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hisfavegirl · 14 hours ago

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Desire Unbound - Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary : Their love had not been without its trials. Whispers in the court had tested their patience, and the fiery temper that burned in both of their veins had led to more than a few clashes. But through it all, they had remained steadfast, bound by something deeper than duty—a love born of understanding, respect, and a passion that neither could deny.

Word Count : 10,5k

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Materlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The firelight from the hearth cast a flickering glow over the walls of your chamber, illuminating Aemond's sharp features as he sat on the edge of your bed, his posture tense. His single eye followed your every move as you stood frozen in the doorway, your heart pounding with a mixture of anger and hurt.

"You shouldn't be here," you said, your voice low but trembling with restrained emotion.

Aemond didn't flinch. He simply stared at you, the guilt evident in the slight crease of his brow. "I needed to see you."

"You needed to see me?" you repeated, incredulous. Your steps were slow and deliberate as you approached him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. "After what you said tonight, you think you can just walk into my chambers?"

He shifted uneasily, running a hand through his silver hair. "I didn’t mean it the way it sounded."

"You didn’t mean it?" You scoffed, your voice rising slightly. "You called me and my brothers bastards, Aemond. In front of the entire hall. You humiliated us—me."

He rose to his feet then, towering over you as he took a step closer. You instinctively stepped back, unwilling to let him close the gap.

"It was a mistake," he said, his tone firm but quieter now. "I let my temper get the better of me."

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. "You know how hard it’s been for us. For me. And you, of all people, Aemond—" Your voice broke, and you quickly turned away, unwilling to let him see your vulnerability.

"I know," he murmured, his voice softening. "I know, and I was wrong. I let my resentment cloud my judgment."

You turned back to him sharply. "Resentment? For what? For my existence? For something I have no control over?"

Aemond took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with his emotions. "Not for your existence," he said carefully, his voice barely above a whisper. "Never that."

"Then what, Aemond? What could possibly justify what you said tonight?"

He hesitated, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he stepped closer again, his voice strained with emotion. "Because I hate how much I care for you," he admitted. "I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you, that you’ve made me weak. And tonight, when I saw them all watching you, smiling at you, laughing with you..." He exhaled sharply, his hand balling into a fist at his side. "I lashed out. I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have."

You stared at him, your breath catching. His words were unexpected, cutting through your anger like a blade.

"That’s not an excuse," you said, your voice trembling. "You hurt me, Aemond. You made me feel like I don’t belong. Like I’ll never belong."

His hand reached out then, hesitating for a moment before it found yours. You didn’t pull away, but you didn’t meet his gaze either.

"You belong," he said softly. "You belong here, and you belong with me."

You glanced up at him then, searching his face for sincerity. His eye, vivid and piercing, held a vulnerability you’d rarely seen.

"You can’t take back what you said," you whispered. "Words like that leave scars, Aemond."

"I know," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "But I’ll spend every day proving to you that I regret them. That I don’t mean them. That I—" He stopped himself, swallowing hard before finishing. "That I care for you more than I’ve cared for anyone else."

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his tone. You wanted to stay angry, to push him away, but a part of you—the part that had always been drawn to him—softened.

"I don’t know if I can forgive you," you said honestly, your voice barely audible.

"Then don’t," he replied. "Not yet. But let me stay. Let me try to make it right."

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling over you. Finally, with a shaky breath, you nodded.

"One chance," you murmured. "That’s all you get."

He nodded, relief washing over his features. "That’s all I need."

As he pulled you into a tentative embrace, the warmth of his body against yours melted some of the ice that had formed in your heart. But the road ahead wouldn’t be easy—he would have to earn your trust, step by step, word by word. And for now, that was enough.

The room was quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. Aemond’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, his warmth enveloping you as you sat in his lap. His lips brushed against your neck, feather-light and apologetic, sending shivers down your spine.

You knew this was his way of saying he was sorry. Aemond Targaryen was not a man of many words when it came to vulnerability. He spoke in actions, in gestures, and this—his gentle kisses and the way he held you so close—was his plea for forgiveness.

“Aemond,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He stilled for a moment, then tightened his embrace, pressing you closer against him as if he feared you might slip away. “Say my name again,” he murmured, his lips grazing your skin.

“Aemond,” you repeated, your tone softer this time.

He exhaled deeply, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he guided you to face him. His eye searched yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. Slowly, he leaned in and captured your lips with his own.

The kiss was tender at first, as if he was afraid of pushing too far, but you responded with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair. His silver locks felt soft between your fingers, and when you gave a gentle tug, he let out a low, deep growl against your lips.

The sound sent a wave of warmth coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smirk.

“You like it when I do that,” you teased, your fingers still threaded through his hair.

“And you like it when I do this,” he countered, leaning forward to press kisses along your jawline and down your neck. His hands slid to your waist, steadying you as he continued his ministrations.

You sighed, tilting your head to give him better access. “You’re impossible,” you whispered, but your tone lacked any real bite.

“And you’re irresistible,” he replied, his voice husky.

He guided your legs to wrap around his waist, holding you in place as he pulled you impossibly closer. “You’re mine,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "I won’t let anything or anyone take you away from me.” There was a possessiveness in his tone, but it was laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

Aemond’s lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. He poured everything into that kiss—his apology, his devotion, his unspoken promise to never hurt you again.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in him, in the way he held you, kissed you, and made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You knew there was still a long road ahead, but in that moment, wrapped in Aemond’s arms, you felt like you could face anything together.

Aemond’s grip on your waist tightened as you shifted in his lap, your movements slow but deliberate. You could feel him hardening beneath you, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

His eye darkened as he growled softly, his voice a warning. “Careful,” he murmured, his tone low and edged with danger. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

You tilted your head innocently, though your actions were anything but. “Who says I can’t finish it?” you teased, leaning in to press your lips to his.

Aemond’s hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly as if to keep you in place. “You’re playing with fire,” he said against your lips, but there was a flicker of amusement in his tone, a hint of challenge.

“Maybe I like the burn,” you whispered back, your hands moving to the ties of his tunic.

His breath hitched as you began to undo them, your fingers working deftly despite the intensity of his gaze. Aemond didn’t stop you; instead, he let you take your time, watching as you revealed the pale, scarred skin of his chest.

“You’re bold tonight,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his scars. “And you’re still overdressed,” you replied, your voice light and teasing.

Aemond raised a brow, his hands moving to the back of your gown. “Not for long,” he muttered, and with practiced ease, he began to undo the laces.

The fabric of your dress slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your waist as he worked with precision. You shivered under his touch, his fingers brushing against your skin as he removed the delicate layers of cloth.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice softer now, filled with genuine admiration.

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze, but instead of responding, you leaned in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense, as if neither of you could get enough.

Aemond’s hands explored your body with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. When he finally pulled back, his lips swollen and his breathing uneven, he looked at you with a mixture of desire and something deeper—something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice firm but tender, as if he needed to remind both you and himself.

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your hands framing his face as you looked into his eye.

Aemond smirked, his fingers tightening on your hips as he leaned in to whisper, “Then show me.”

Aemond’s hands trembled slightly as they slid to your waist, his movements deliberate yet laced with urgency. With your help, he pushed his trousers down just enough to free himself, and in a swift, fluid motion, he buried himself inside you completely.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you felt him filling you, the sensation overwhelming yet intoxicating. Your head tilted back instinctively, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. Aemond’s head dipped to your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured your name softly, reverently, like a prayer.

“You feel... incredible,” he groaned, his voice thick with emotion and desire. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him as if he could fuse your bodies together.

Your breathing hitched, and your fingers tangled in his silver hair, tugging gently. “Aemond...” you whispered, your voice trembling as he began to guide your movements.

Aemond chuckled lowly, his grip on your hips firm but not rough, his touch sending shivers through your body. “That’s it,” he murmured against your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along the sensitive skin. “Move with me.”

He began to rock his hips upward, each movement precise and measured, designed to draw the most exquisite reactions from you. You obeyed his silent command, rolling your hips in tandem with his, your breaths mingling as the rhythm between you grew more fluid, more intense.

Your forehead rested against his as your eyes met, his single violet eye blazing with desire. The intimacy of the moment stole your breath, and a soft moan escaped your lips when he thrust deeper, hitting a spot that made you see stars.

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he growled low in his throat, his hands sliding up to cup your face. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss. The intensity of his movements increased, and his grip on your waist tightened as he drove into you with a mix of passion and possession.

Your body trembled against his, your head falling to his shoulder as he shifted slightly, angling his thrusts to ensure you felt every bit of him. His lips brushed your ear, his breath warm as he spoke. “Say my name,” he commanded, his voice soft but filled with authority.

“Aemond,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as the sensations became too much to bear.

“That’s it,” he growled, his pace quickening as his hands guided your movements, ensuring you matched his rhythm. His gaze never left you, even as his lips found their way back to your neck, kissing and biting gently. “You’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you cried out, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure coursed through your body.

“And don’t you forget it,” he murmured, his voice dark and full of satisfaction.

As the rhythm of your bodies grew more frantic, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving only the two of you in your shared intensity. Aemond’s movements became more erratic, his breathing ragged as he buried his face in your neck, groaning your name as if it were the only word that mattered.

Aemond’s frustration boiled over as he growled deeply, his single eye dark with a mixture of desire and impatience. Without a word, he grabbed your waist and flipped you onto your back, pressing you firmly against the soft mattress.

“Aemond!” you gasped, your voice half a protest, half a plea. You tried to wriggle away when he yanked the fabric of your favorite gown, the sound of ripping fabric filled your room. “That’s my favorite dress—”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn it if you didn’t want it ruined,” he cut you off, his tone sharp yet laced with a wicked edge. Before you could utter another word, he pushed himself into you with a single, deliberate thrust.

Your protest turned into a loud cry, your head falling back against the pillows as your body arched instinctively. Aemond leaned over you, his hair falling around his face as his lips twisted into a smirk. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure you forget everything except me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding.

His movements were no longer gentle or patient; they were fast, rough, and unrelenting. He thrust into you with a pace that left you breathless, every motion purposeful and overwhelming. You clutched at the sheets beneath you, your cries of protest turning into soft moans and then outright laughter as your body trembled under his control.

“Laugh all you want,” Aemond said through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you closer with each thrust. “But you’ll be begging soon enough.”

“I already am,” you replied breathlessly, your laughter fading into a moan as he hit a sensitive spot inside you.

“Good,” he murmured darkly, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His hand slid to the side of your face, holding you in place as his tongue invaded your mouth, taking everything he wanted.

Your hands reached up, tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. He groaned into the kiss, his movements becoming even more frantic as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His body pressed against yours, his heat surrounding you entirely as he buried himself deeper and faster.

“Aemond,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you struggled to keep up with the intensity.

“You can take it,” he whispered against your lips, his voice dripping with determination. “You’re mine—you’ve always been mine.”

Your body trembled as you felt yourself nearing the edge, every nerve alight with the sensations he was pulling from you. Aemond’s eye locked onto yours, his smirk softening for a moment as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice softening slightly as his pace slowed for just a second, only to pick up again. His hand slid down your side, gripping your thigh to pull you closer to him. “You’re everything to me.”

The intensity built until it was unbearable, and you cried out his name as your body gave in, waves of pleasure crashing over you. Aemond followed moments later, his grip on you tightening as he groaned your name, his voice raw and guttural.

As the world around you settled back into focus, Aemond collapsed beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you close. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his breathing heavy but his touch gentle.

“You ruined my dress,” you muttered, your voice teasing as you looked up at him.

He chuckled, his eye shining with amusement. “I’ll buy you another,” he promised, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But you’ll look better without it anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips as you leaned into his embrace, letting yourself get lost in his warmth once more.

You awoke from a brief but deep slumber, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. The muffled sounds of the grand feast still echoed through the halls of the Red Keep, but none of it mattered. All you cared about was the man lying beside you.

Aemond lay on his back, his chest rising and falling steadily, his long silver hair cascading over the pillows. He looked peaceful—almost too peaceful for someone who carried such a heavy burden of ambition and expectation. You let yourself admire him for a moment, his sharp features softened in sleep, the faint scar over his empty eye catching the candlelight.

With a quiet sigh, you gently moved his arm off your waist, careful not to wake him. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin as you shifted, repositioning yourself to sit between his legs. Aemond stirred slightly but remained asleep, his body completely at ease.

Biting your lip, you leaned forward, pressing the softest kiss to his toned abdomen, just above the waistband of his trousers. His skin was warm under your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile when he stirred again, a low hum escaping him. Slowly, you let your kisses trail lower, savoring every inch of him as your lips danced over his skin.

Aemond’s breathing hitched, and he shifted beneath you, his head turning to the side as his brows furrowed. You paused, wondering if he would wake, but when he didn’t, you continued your gentle assault, letting your hands slide up his sides to steady yourself.

“Mm…” Aemond’s voice rumbled softly, his head tilting back as he slowly came to consciousness. His eye fluttered open, the sapphire in his empty socket catching the dim light as his gaze locked onto you. For a moment, he looked disoriented, but realization quickly set in as a sly smirk tugged at his lips.

“What do you think you’re doing, hmm?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and amusement. His hand reached down, tangling in your hair as he gazed at you with a mix of curiosity and hunger.

You grinned up at him, tilting your head innocently. “You looked too peaceful. I thought it was my duty to wake you,” you replied, your tone teasing.

Aemond chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “And this is how you choose to wake me? I should be furious… yet here I am, enjoying it far too much.” His grip on your hair tightened slightly, guiding your face back toward his cock. “Continue, then. If you dare.”

His challenge ignited something in you, and you obeyed his command, letting your kisses venture even lower until your lips reach his cock base. Aemond groaned softly, his hand still in your hair as he leaned his head back, his sharp jawline on full display.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, though his voice was filled with satisfaction. “But I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

As you continued to suck him, Aemond’s breathing grew heavier, his hand tightening its grip as he guided you, bring your head down until you gagged around him. “You always know how to push me to the edge,” he admitted, his voice husky as his smirk returned. “But don’t think I’ll let you take control for long.”

Moments later, he sat up with surprising swiftness, his hand slipping from your hair to grip your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “My turn,” he whispered, his eye dark with desire as he pulled you up to claim your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss.

The feast beyond your chamber walls became a distant memory as Aemond reclaimed control, ensuring you’d both forget the world outside for just a little while longer.

Aemond moved with startling speed, flipping you onto your back as if you weighed nothing. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, spreading them apart while his lips found yours in an instant. His kiss was commanding, full of hunger, and you melted beneath him, feeling the intensity of his desire through every touch.

You tangled your fingers in his silken hair, tugging lightly, drawing a low growl from deep within his chest. The sound sent shivers down your spine, and your breath hitched as his lips trailed down from your mouth to your neck. He peppered you with kisses, each one deliberate, each one sending sparks through your entire body.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, his voice deep and full of possessiveness. His tongue darted out to taste the sensitive spot on your collarbone, making you gasp and arch into him. “Every part of you belongs to me, do you understand?”

You could only nod, your words lost to the sensation of his lips and the warmth of his hands traveling over your skin. Aemond chuckled darkly at your silence, his eye gleaming with satisfaction as he continued his exploration.

He shifted lower, his lips trailing down your body with agonizing slowness. When his tongue flicked against your dripping cunt, your back arched off the bed, and a loud cry escaped your lips. Aemond smirked, his grip tightening on your thighs to keep you in place as his tongue moved with deliberate precision.

“You’re so responsive,” he said, his voice laced with amusement and pride. “Every sound you make, every movement—it's all mine. You always give me exactly what I want.”

Your hands fisted in his hair again, the pleasure he gave you building to unbearable heights. “Aemond…” you managed to gasp, your voice trembling as he pushed you further and further to the edge.

“Yes, my love?” he teased, his nose brushing against your clit as he glanced up at you, his expression smug. “Say my name again. Louder this time.”

You cried out his name, your body trembling beneath him as he took you to your breaking point. Aemond chuckled softly, his lips pressing a final kiss to your cunt before moving back up to claim your lips once more.

He hovered over you, his eye drinking in the sight of your flushed, breathless state. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And you’re mine. Always.”

You cupped his face, pulling him down into another heated kiss. “I’m yours,” you whispered against his lips, your voice full of both love and surrender.

Aemond’s smirk widened, and he kissed you again, deeper this time, as if to seal your words. "Good. Don’t ever forget it."

Aemond wasted no time as he thrust into you with a single, deep motion, his movements commanding and deliberate. Both of you gasped at the overwhelming sensation, the connection between you electrifying and consuming. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he began moving with a rough and unrelenting pace.

"You were made for me," Aemond growled, his voice low and possessive, each word sending a shiver down your spine. "To stand by me, to be beneath me, to belong only to me." His eye locked onto yours, a mix of hunger and dominance evident in his gaze.

Your breath hitched, his words sending a whirlwind of emotions through you. You could barely manage a nod, your voice lost in the moans spilling from your lips as his relentless pace made you tremble beneath him.

"Aemond..." you managed to gasp, your hands clutching at his arms, seeking any kind of grounding as he drove you to the edge of your control.

"Say it," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke again, his voice rough with desire. "Say that you're mine. That no one else will ever touch you like this."

"I'm yours," you whispered shakily, your voice breaking as the pleasure built within you.

Aemond smirked, his lips trailing along your jaw before capturing your lips in a heated, bruising kiss. "Good girl," he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

He suddenly shifted, angling your hips to push even deeper, and you cried out his name loudly as a wave of intense pleasure crashed over you. Aemond groaned, clearly spurred on by your reactions, his movements becoming faster and rougher, his grip on you almost bruising.

"You take me so perfectly," he muttered, his eye dark with desire as he watched you writhe beneath him. "Every inch of you belongs to me now. I will mold you as I please, making your tight little cunt swollen and overstimulated."

You could only nod frantically, your body consumed by the overwhelming sensations he was giving you. "Aemond..." you gasped again, tears forming in your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all.

"That's it," he growled, his voice rough as he drove you both closer to the edge. "Say my name. Let the whole castle hear who you belong to."

"Aemond!" you cried out, your voice echoing in the room as the pleasure finally overtook you.

Aemond smirked in satisfaction, his movements never faltering as he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips possessive and demanding. "You're mine," he murmured against your lips, his voice softening as his pace slowed, though the intensity in his gaze never wavered.

As your protest escaped your lips, Aemond smirked in that maddeningly confident way, clearly enjoying your frustration. His movements slowed to a teasing crawl, each deliberate thrust driving you closer to madness. You tried to take control, lifting your hips to meet him halfway, but his strong hands pressed firmly on your waist, holding you in place.

"Patience, my love," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with control. "Good things come to those who wait."

Your lips parted in a growl of annoyance, your body trembling with need as his languid pace teased and tormented you. "Aemond, please," you whimpered, the desperation in your tone clear.

But he only chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispered, "You’re so beautiful like this—completely at my mercy."

His teasing was relentless, and you felt yourself growing more frustrated with each passing second. "Stop torturing me," you finally managed to gasp, your voice breaking as you gripped his arms. But before you could say more, he shifted, the smirk fading into something darker.

Without warning, Aemond slammed his hips forward, driving himself deep and fast into you. The sudden intensity forced a loud cry from your lips, your body arching sharply against him. "Aemond!" you shouted, his name ripping from your throat as the overwhelming pleasure made you tremble.

He gripped your hips tighter, his powerful movements making your body bounce beneath him, every thrust more punishing and precise than the last. "Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice rough with desire as his sharp gaze locked onto your face.

"Yes—yes!" you cried out, barely able to form words as his relentless pace robbed you of coherent thought. "Oh gods!"

Aemond leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "This is what happens when you test me, love. Do you like it? Do you like being completely undone by me?"

You nodded frantically, your hands clawing at his back as you struggled to keep up with the intensity. His laughter was low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That’s what I thought," he said, his voice tinged with triumph.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take anymore, Aemond tilted your hips slightly, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. You screamed his name, your body trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave.

"That’s it," he groaned, his pace never faltering as he drove you higher and higher. "Scream for me. Let them all know who you belong to."

"Aemond," you gasped again, your voice breaking as tears pricked the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity.

His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his movements slowing only slightly as he whispered against your mouth, "You’ll never forget who owns you, my love. Never."

Aemond’s sharp gaze flicked toward the open balcony, the faint moonlight spilling into the room casting a pale glow across his face. You followed his line of sight, your breath hitching in anticipation as a wicked grin spread across his lips.

Without warning, he lifted you with ease, keeping himself buried deep within you as you gasped and clung to his shoulders. "Aemond, what are you—?" you started, but his lips silenced you with a possessive kiss.

"You’ll see," he murmured against your lips, his tone low and full of promise.

With steady, deliberate steps, he carried you toward the balcony. The cool night air brushed against your flushed skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he set you down. Before you could even process his intentions, he turned you to face the edge, gently pressing your hands against the stone railing.

"Aemond," you whispered nervously, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His long fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back slightly so he could meet your gaze. "You trust me, don’t you?" he asked, his voice low but commanding.

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Always."

Satisfied with your answer, he leaned in to press a searing kiss to the back of your neck before positioning you just how he wanted—your body bent over the edge of the balcony, the vast expanse of the castle grounds stretching out before you under the glow of the moonlight.

Without hesitation, Aemond slid into you once more, drawing a loud, unrestrained cry from your lips. His free hand gripped your hip tightly as he began to move, his pace brutal and relentless from the start.

The combination of the cool night air on your skin, the sensation of him inside you, and the thrilling thought of being exposed sent a rush of heat coursing through you. "Aemond," you gasped, your voice trembling as he pulled your hair tighter, arching your back further.

"You’re mine," he growled, his voice a possessive snarl in your ear. "And I want the whole world to know it."

His thrusts became faster, harder, each one pushing you closer to the edge—both figuratively and literally. You cried out his name, your voice echoing into the night as your hands gripped the stone railing for support.

"That’s it," he groaned, his tone thick with satisfaction. "Scream for me, love. Let them all hear you. Let them know who you belong to."

Your body trembled under the intensity, your legs threatening to give out as he continued his merciless rhythm. The combination of his rough grip on your hair and the overwhelming pleasure sent shockwaves through your entire being.

"Aemond," you cried again, louder this time, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you entirely.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Look at the moon, my love. Remember this moment. You’re mine—completely, utterly mine."

You shivered at his words, your head tilting back against his shoulder as you surrendered fully to him under the pale light of the moon. Aemond’s growls and your cries filled the night air, an untamed symphony of passion that neither of you would forget.

As you glanced downward, a surge of anxiety coursed through you. The sprawling gardens below were still lit with faint lanterns from the evening’s festivities. Anyone who happened to look up might see the scandalous scene unfolding on the balcony, but Aemond seemed utterly indifferent to the risk.

“Aemond,” you whispered in a mix of fear and exhilaration, your voice trembling. “Someone might see us!”

He responded with a low chuckle, his movements unrelenting. “Let them look,” he murmured, his tone possessive, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Let them see how beautifully you fall apart for me.”

Your cheeks burned, both from embarrassment and the heat coursing through your body as his hands roamed your form with expert precision. He grasped your hips tighter, pulling you back against him with each deep thrust, his pace quickening as if he were staking his claim in every way possible.

“Aemond,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as your legs threatened to give out beneath you.

Sensing your weakness, he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you upright against him. His other hand moved to cup your breats, kneading and playing with your nipple in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You can cry my name as much as you want,” he said, his voice dark and teasing, “but I won’t stop until I’ve had my fill of you.”

You let out a soft sob, overwhelmed by the intensity of his movements and the heat pooling in your center. “Aemond, please,” you begged, though even you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

He only laughed, the sound low and dangerous, vibrating against your back. “You’re trembling,” he noted with amusement, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before biting down softly, leaving a mark. “Good. Remember this, my love. Remember that no one else will ever have you like this.”

You gasped as his grip tightened, his pace shifting to sharp, deliberate thrusts that made you cry out in abandon. Despite your earlier worries, your voice echoed into the night, each moan and whimper a testament to his control over you.

“I can’t, to much...” you whimpered, your knees buckling slightly as the pleasure became too much to bear.

“Yes, you can,” Aemond growled, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh and steady you. “You’ll take everything I give you.”

He angled his hips just right, and a jolt of pleasure shot through you, making your head fall back against his shoulder. Your eyes fluttered shut, and tears slipped down your cheeks, overwhelmed by his touch and his sheer intensity.

“You look so perfect like this,” he whispered in your ear, his voice softening for a moment. “Completely mine. Tell me, love, who do you belong to?”

“You,” you breathed out, barely able to form words as his pace grew brutal once more. “Only you, Aemond.”

He let out a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good,” he said, his tone dripping with possession. “And on our wedding night, I’ll make sure you won’t leave our bed for days. You’ll be mine, and only mine, in every way possible.”

His promise sent a shiver through you, your body responding to his words as if on instinct. You could do nothing but surrender entirely to him, your cries and his growls mingling in the cool night air as the world around you faded away.

Aemond let out a low growl as he finally reached his peak, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself deep within you. You gasped, your own body shuddering in response as you felt the warmth of him flooding through you. Your hands instinctively reached back to clutch at his arms, your breathing ragged and uneven as he held you close, his chest pressed against your back.

He stayed like that for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough yet tender. “Made for me.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond, your body still trembling from the intensity of what had just transpired. Instead, you let your head rest against the crook of his neck, your eyes fluttering shut as you basked in the afterglow.

After a few moments, Aemond shifted, his arms wrapping around you as he lifted you effortlessly into his embrace. You whimpered softly at the movement, your body still sensitive and sore, but he hushed you with a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” he said quietly, his tone soft and full of care. He carried you inside, the cool night air giving way to the warmth of your chambers. The faint glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft light on the bed where he gently laid you down.

You watched him through half-lidded eyes as he joined you, pulling the blankets over both of you before wrapping his arms around your waist. You instinctively curled into him, your head resting against his chest as your fingers reached up to tangle in his hair.

Aemond let out a content sigh, his hand tracing soothing patterns along your back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere. “For earlier. For the things I said at dinner.”

You opened your eyes, gazing up at him. His single violet eye held an earnestness that made your heart ache. “You hurt me,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to. I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”

You studied him for a moment before sighing, your hand moving to caress his cheek. “Don’t let it happen again, Aemond,” you murmured, your voice firm but forgiving.

“I won’t,” he promised, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “I swear it.”

The two of you lay there in silence, the tension from earlier melting away as you basked in each other’s presence. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, and he closed his eye, his breathing evening out as he relaxed under your touch.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at his words. “Good,” you whispered, closing your eyes as you let yourself drift off in his arms.

The soft rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. You blinked slowly, waking from the peaceful haze of sleep. Stretching slightly, you turned your head and saw Aemond lying beside you, his features serene and his silver hair splayed across the pillow.

Your lips curved into a small smile as you took in the sight of him. His arm was draped over your waist, holding you close even in sleep, the two of you still tangled in the sheets from the night before. The thought made you chuckle softly, warmth spreading through your chest.

The sound of your laughter seemed to stir him, his brow furrowing slightly before he let out a quiet hum. His arm tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer against his chest. “You’re awake already?” he murmured, his voice low and husky from sleep.

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good morning,” you whispered softly, your fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.

Aemond cracked his eye open, his violet gaze meeting yours. A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he looked at you, still half-asleep. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice carrying a softness that he reserved only for you.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you said, running your fingers lightly over his jawline. “You looked so peaceful.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “I doubt I looked peaceful after last night,” he teased, his tone laced with amusement. “You’re the one who’s glowing this morning.”

You felt your cheeks heat at his words, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “You’re insufferable sometimes,” you said, though there was no malice in your tone.

He smirked, leaning in to kiss you again, slower this time, savoring the moment. “And yet, you still love me,” he teased, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“Unfortunately for me, I do,” you replied with a mock sigh, earning a playful glare from him.

Aemond chuckled again, his eye sparkling with mischief. “You’re lucky I love you too, or I might have taken offense to that.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch as he traced small circles on your hip with his thumb. For a while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside the room forgotten.

“I suppose we should get up eventually,” you said softly, though you made no move to leave the comfort of his embrace.

Aemond shook his head, pulling you closer. “Not yet,” he murmured. “I’m not ready to share you with the world again.”

You sighed, resting your head against his chest. “Just a little longer, then,” you agreed, closing your eyes and savoring the quiet intimacy of the morning.

As Aemond leaned down to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, a soft moan escaped you, melting into his touch. His hand slid down your thigh, pulling your leg closer around his waist as his body pressed against yours. His movements were deliberate and unhurried, savoring every moment as he entered you again, filling you completely.

A quiet gasp left your lips, and he stilled for a moment, his violet eye locking with yours. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered, "I can never get enough of you... You do something to me that no one else ever could."

Your heart raced at his words, and you brushed your fingers through his silver hair, tugging gently. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered breathlessly into his ear, your voice barely above a murmur.

Aemond growled low in his throat, his control slipping at your plea. "You’ll be the death of me," he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck as his hips began to move again. His thrusts were slow but deep, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access as his lips continued to explore the curve of your neck. “Aemond…” you moaned softly, your hands gripping his shoulders for support.

“Say it again,” he commanded in a husky tone, his pace quickening slightly. “Say my name.”

“Aemond,” you repeated, louder this time, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his movements becoming more deliberate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

You nodded fervently, your breaths mingling with his as the room filled with the sound of your shared passion. His lips found yours again, his kiss demanding and possessive, leaving no doubt of the depth of his feelings.

As his rhythm grew more erratic, you could feel the tension building between you. Your nails dug into his back, and you whispered his name once more, urging him on.

“Don’t stop,” you repeated, your voice shaking as the pleasure became overwhelming.

Aemond groaned against your lips, his movements growing faster and more desperate. “Never,” he vowed, his voice filled with a mix of devotion and hunger. "I won’t stop until you can’t even think of anyone but me."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clung to him as the world around you seemed to blur. All that mattered was him, and the way he made you feel like you were the center of his universe.

You froze in place, your breath caught in your throat as you heard your mother, Rhaenyra, calling your name from outside the door. The knock was firm but not impatient, her voice tinged with concern.

“Are you alright, my dear? Why is the door locked?” Rhaenyra asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and worry.

Your eyes widened, and you turned your head to glare at Aemond, who smirked devilishly. “Aemond,” you hissed under your breath, “stop it!”

But instead of heeding your warning, Aemond’s smirk deepened. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, and whispered, “What’s the fun in that, my love? Let her hear you say my name.”

Before you could respond, he shifted his hips, sending a jolt through your body. You bit your lip to suppress a sound, glaring at him with a mix of frustration and pleading.

“Aemond!” you whispered sharply, trying to push him away, but he held you firmly in place, clearly enjoying the situation. “She’ll hear us!”

“Then answer her,” he teased, his voice low and taunting as he moved again. “Tell her everything is perfectly fine.”

You shot him a murderous look, but your mother’s voice came again from the other side of the door. “Are you feeling unwell? You’ve been quiet since last night. I want to make sure you’re ready for the big day. And remember, you and Aemond aren’t supposed to meet until the wedding!”

Aemond chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against yours. “Tradition can wait,” he muttered, his lips brushing your neck as he trailed kisses down your shoulder.

You clenched your fists, torn between annoyance and the undeniable pleasure he was giving you. “Mother, I’m fine” you finally called out, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ll be out shortly”

There was a pause, and then Rhaenyra sighed. “Alright. Just remember, this is important—for both of you.”

You turned to Aemond, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury. “Are you out of your mind?!”

Aemond only laughed, his eye gleaming with mischief as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Completely. Especially when it comes to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “We’re going to get caught if you keep this up.”

“Then let them catch us,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer. “Let them all know you’re mine, now and forever.”

Despite your protests, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go easily. And a part of you didn’t want him to.

As soon as you heard the sound of your mother’s footsteps fading down the hallway, you sighed in relief, your body momentarily relaxing. But your relief was short-lived as Aemond wasted no time resuming his pace, his movements suddenly fast and relentless.

A loud cry escaped your lips before you could stop it, your hands gripping his shoulders as he chuckled darkly. “Aemond!” you half-scolded, half-moaned, your voice trembling with frustration and desire.

He tilted his head, his sapphire eye gleaming with amusement as he looked down at you. “What? Did you think I was done, my love?” His tone was teasing, his lips brushing against your ear. “You think I’d let your mother interrupt us and walk away without finishing what we started?”

You glared at him, your cheeks burning. “You’re impossible! If she hears us—”

Aemond cut you off with a sharp thrust, making you gasp. “Let her hear,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “Let her know that you’re mine—now and always.”

“Aemond!” you cried again, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

He laughed softly, his tone full of mischief. “Scream louder, my love. Let all of Red Keep know who you belong to.”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the noises threatening to escape, but Aemond wasn’t having it. He moved even faster, his hands gripping your hips firmly, pulling you closer to him with every movement.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice dripping with pride and satisfaction. “So beautiful. So perfect. And all mine.”

You whimpered, your body trembling beneath him. “Aemond… please,” you begged, unsure if you wanted him to stop or to keep going.

He smirked, his lips brushing against your neck. “Please what, love? Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”

You couldn’t form words, your mind too clouded by the sensations he was giving you. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his movements never faltering.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “By the time we’re done, you won’t be able to walk to our wedding, let alone stand during the ceremony.”

You shot him a weak glare, your voice shaking as you retorted, “You’re insane!”

He grinned, his eye burning with intensity. “Only for you, my love.”

And with that, he quickened his pace once more, drawing cries from your lips that echoed through the room, making you forget everything else but him.

Aemond smirked down at you, his eye trailing over your flushed face, your trembling body, and the way your lips parted with each cry. The sight of you—the way you looked completely undone beneath him—made something dark and possessive stir deep within him.

“You don’t even realize how perfect you look right now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he moved with precision.

Your body trembled violently, and he chuckled softly, almost mockingly. “Look at you,” he said, his words teasing but filled with an underlying adoration. “You can’t even think straight anymore, can you?”

You managed to glare up at him through your haze of pleasure, though it lacked any real heat. “Aemond…” you gasped, your voice barely audible.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Say my name again. Louder.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress the noises threatening to spill from your lips, but he wasn’t having it. He shifted his angle, hitting that spot that made you cry out involuntarily.

“There it is,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You can’t hide from me, my love. Not when I know every part of you—every sound you make, every way your body reacts to me. You’re mine.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, but he was relentless. He moved faster, watching intently as your body arched beneath him, your hands clutching the sheets desperately.

“Aemond, please,” you whimpered, unsure whether you were begging him to stop or to keep going.

He laughed softly, the sound full of pride and amusement. “Please what, love? Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”

You couldn’t respond, your mind too clouded, and he grinned down at you, his expression smug. “I’ll take that as a ‘don’t stop.’”

His movements grew rougher, his grip tightening as he watched you unravel completely. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “You’ve always been mine. And in just a few days, the entire realm will know it.”

Your breath hitched, and he leaned down to kiss you deeply, stealing whatever words you might have spoken. When he pulled back, he stared into your eyes, his gaze filled with intensity.

“I’ve claimed you already,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But once we’re married, there will be no doubt. No one will question that you belong to me.”

You could only nod weakly, overwhelmed by his words and the way he was completely consuming you.

He smirked, satisfied with your silent agreement, and brushed his lips against your forehead. “Good girl,” he murmured before resuming his pace, his movements pushing you closer to the edge once more.

You cried out his name, your voice echoing through the room, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s it,” he said, his tone a mixture of teasing and adoration. “Let everyone know who you belong to.”

As your body shook beneath him, he whispered, “You’ll look just like this on our wedding night, my love. Only then, you’ll truly be mine forever.”

Aemond let out a deep growl as he delivered one final thrust, his grip on your hips unrelenting. You cried out, your body arching into him as warmth flooded through you. He held you there, his chest pressed tightly against your chest, his breathing heavy against your ear.

"You're not going anywhere," he murmured, his voice husky and laced with satisfaction. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss along your shoulder before turning your face toward his and capturing your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

You panted against his lips, your body trembling beneath him. “Aemond…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He pulled back slightly, his violet eye locking onto yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re incredible,” he said softly, his tone filled with both pride and adoration.

You rolled your eyes, though it lacked any real irritation, and muttered, “You’re insufferable.”

His smirk widened, and he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, softer, as if savoring the moment. “Perhaps,” he admitted against your lips, “but you love me anyway.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Unfortunately for me.”

He chuckled, his hands sliding along your sides, soothing the marks his grip had left on your skin. “You’re not unfortunate, my love,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re blessed. You’ll see soon enough.”

You raised a brow at him. “Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Aemond’s smirk returned, his eye gleaming with mischief. “It means,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “I’m going to make sure you’re carrying my heir before we even step foot in the Sept for our wedding.”

Your eyes widened, and you pushed at his chest playfully, though your cheeks burned at his bold statement. “Aemond!”

He only laughed, pulling you closer against him. “Don’t act so surprised,” he teased, pressing kisses along your jaw. “You know I’ve always wanted you—all of you. This is just ensuring the realm knows you’re mine in every possible way.”

You shook your head, but his words stirred something deep within you. “You’re insatiable,” you muttered, though your voice betrayed the fondness you felt for him.

He grinned, nuzzling into your neck. “Only for you,” he murmured. “And you’ll have to get used to it, my love. Because I don’t intend to stop anytime soon.”

As he held you in his arms, his lips still ghosting over your skin, you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of exasperation and affection for the man who had claimed your heart so completely.

"you have to meet your mother, or she will search the whole keep looking for you when she realizes you weren't in your chambers this morning" Aemond groaned softly, reluctantly pulling himself away from you. He knew you were right—his mother was meticulous when it came to traditions, and she'd undoubtedly be searching for him soon to ensure he upheld every last one before the wedding. But as he stood and stretched, your teasing voice stopped him in his tracks.

"But, of course," you said, a playful glint in your eyes, "you could always stay and join me for a bath. It might... save time."

Aemond froze mid-step, his eye narrowing as he turned back to look at you. There you were, sprawled on the bed, your hair mussed, your skin glowing, and your lips curled into a sly smile. He could see the faintest hint of mischief dancing in your expression.

"You're testing my resolve, love," he said, his tone low and warning, though the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips betrayed his amusement.

You sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around your waist as you stretched your arms above your head, your movements deliberately languid. "Me? Testing your resolve? Never," you replied with feigned innocence, though your grin only widened.

Aemond sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "You know, if I stay, we won't leave that bath until nightfall."

"Then stay," you said simply, tilting your head at him, your voice soft yet full of challenge.

Aemond's jaw clenched, his violet eye scanning you as if weighing his options. "You're impossible," he muttered under his breath before stepping toward you, his movements deliberate and slow.

You laughed, leaning back slightly as he loomed over you. "And yet, here you are, unable to resist me."

He chuckled darkly, leaning down and pressing a hand to the mattress beside your head. "You’re right," he admitted, his voice a low growl. "I can’t resist you. But when my mother finds out I missed another tradition because of you..." He trailed off, his lips brushing against your ear. "It will be entirely your fault."

"Entirely worth it," you murmured back, your breath hitching as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You called for your handmaidens, your voice soft yet commanding. Within moments, they arrived at the door, their expressions neutral as if they were well-accustomed to your requests. "Please prepare warm water for our bath," you instructed, glancing back at Aemond, who leaned against the bedpost with his arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

The maids bowed and began their work without hesitation. It was no secret to the staff that you and Aemond were inseparable, even before your betrothal. Whispers had floated through the Red Keep of the prince's unrelenting devotion to you, and though tongues wagged, no one dared speak ill in your presence.

Once the bath was prepared, steam curling into the cool morning air, the maids excused themselves, leaving the two of you alone. Aemond’s gaze softened as he extended a hand to you, helping you step into the warm, fragrant water. You sighed contentedly as the heat embraced you, washing away the tension from your limbs.

Aemond followed, settling into the tub with practiced ease, and before you could move, he gently pulled you toward him. You found yourself leaning against his chest, his arms encircling you protectively.

"You’re far too relaxed," he teased, his voice a low murmur against your ear as his fingers trailed absently along your arm.

"Should I not be?" you replied with a small smile, tilting your head back to rest against his shoulder. "It’s rare that I get to enjoy moments like this with you. Soon, the entire realm will be watching our every move."

He chuckled softly, the vibration resonating through his chest and against your back. "Let them watch," he said. "It changes nothing. You’re mine—now, tomorrow, and always."

Your cheeks warmed, though whether it was from his words or the bathwater, you couldn’t quite tell. Turning slightly, you looked up at him, brushing a damp strand of silver hair away from his face. "You speak as if I need reminding," you teased, though your voice was laced with affection.

Aemond smirked, leaning down to brush his lips against your temple. "I remind you because I enjoy the way you react," he admitted, his eye glinting with mischief.

You rolled your eyes playfully but settled back against him, your hand trailing lazily along his arm. "You’ll have no one but yourself to blame if I never leave your side," you murmured, your voice soft.

"Good," he replied instantly, his tone resolute. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle splash of water and the faint hum of life beyond the chamber walls. For a brief moment, it was as if the world outside didn’t exist, and all that mattered was the warmth of the water, the steady rhythm of Aemond’s breathing, and the undeniable connection between the two of you.

Aemond’s hands were gentle yet deliberate as he fastened the intricate ties of your gown, his touch lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. Once he finished, he rested his hands on your shoulders, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your bare skin. You caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror before you, and he gave you a small, almost boyish smirk—a rare sight from the usually stoic prince.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. His eye lingered on you in the mirror, taking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

You smiled softly, brushing your hand over his that now rested on your waist. “It’s your handiwork,” you teased lightly, turning your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

Aemond chuckled, his fingers gliding down to your stomach. He traced slow, deliberate circles on the fabric of your gown, his movements thoughtful and affectionate. The gesture made your heart flutter, and you leaned back against him, savoring the closeness.

“If we keep doing this,” you began, your tone playful as your hand covered his, “I’ll be showing within a month of our wedding.”

Aemond’s smirk widened, and he met your gaze in the mirror, his expression unapologetically smug. “Good,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of pride and mischief. “I want the realm to see how well I’ve claimed you—how you’re mine, in every way that matters.”

You laughed softly, turning in his arms to face him fully. “You say that as if people don’t already know,” you replied, your tone warm but teasing. “Aemond, they’ve known since the day you started shadowing me everywhere I went.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. “Let them talk. Let them know. None of them matter—only you.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you reached up to touch his face, your thumb brushing against his sharp cheekbone. “You have a way of making everything else feel so… distant,” you admitted softly.

“That’s because nothing else should matter,” he replied without hesitation. “You are my priority. My betrothed. My world.”

The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you were lost in the depths of his gaze. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead, and you closed your eyes, relishing the tenderness of the moment.

After a beat, you exhaled and smiled. “If we don’t leave soon, your mother will send someone to drag us out of here,” you said, your voice lighthearted but aware of the responsibilities awaiting you.

Aemond sighed dramatically, his arms tightening around you. “Let her send the entire Kingsguard,” he said with mock exasperation. “They’ll have to fight me to pry you away.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you gently pushed against his chest. “And here I thought you’d want to avoid her wrath.”

His smirk returned, and he leaned down to kiss you deeply. “The only wrath I care about avoiding is yours,” he whispered against your lips, making your heart race.

Reluctantly, he stepped back, offering you his arm. “Shall we, my princess?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

You looped your arm through his, smiling up at him. “We shall, my prince,” you replied, your voice warm.

And together, you left the chamber, the bond between you both stronger than ever.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow

#aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #hotd one shot #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond smut #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction

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f1girliefics · 11 hours ago

Text

The Red Thread of Love

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: When Lewis Hamilton celebrates his new chapter with Ferrari, he plans a little surprise for you.

The invitation had arrived with little context, just a brief message from Lewis.

“Be ready at 3. Dress comfortably but leave everything else to me. You’ll see.”

You’d spent the morning wondering what he had planned.

It wasn’t unusual for Lewis to organize surprises, but the cryptic tone left you more curious than ever.

When the car came to pick you up, you were greeted by a cheerful assistant who offered no hints as you were driven to a grand studio in the heart of the city.

You were both nervous and excited.

Stepping inside, your jaw dropped.

The entire space was bathed in shades of crimson and scarlet, from the backdrop to the plush seating area adorned with roses and candles.

A rack of dresses stood in one corner, each more breathtaking than the last.

Red.

All over. Everywhere.

Red.

“Lewis... what is all this?” you asked, turning as Lewis walked toward you.

“Welcome to the celebration,” he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Celebration?” you asked, your eyes scanning the room. “This looks like something out of a movie. What are we celebrating?”

He stepped back, spreading his arms to gesture at the room.

“Ferrari,” he said. “A new chapter. And I couldn’t think of a better way to make it perfect than with you by my side.”

You smiled at just how sweet he was. “So, a photoshoot?”

“A photoshoot,” he confirmed, his excitement unmistakable. As if he was a child in an ice cream shop. “But not just any photoshoot. This is for us. To capture this moment, this feeling. And if the pictures come out half as stunning as you, I’ll call it a win.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Lewis.”

“Impossibly in love with you,” he took your hand and led you toward the rack of stunning dresses.

A stylist and her team appeared and took you away to work their magic.

Lewis disappeared to get ready, leaving you in awe as they helped you into a stunning red gown.

The fabric hugged your body perfectly, the intricate beadwork catching the light with every movement.

When you were ready, Lewis was waiting near the set, now dressed in a deep red suit that complemented your gown and his skin tone perfectly.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes widening slightly.

“Wow. Just... wow.”

You smiled at him. “Not so bad yourself, Mr. Ferrari.”

He laughed, offering his hand to you. “Shall we?”

The photoshoot was filled with laughter, stolen glances, and playful banter.

The photographer guided you through poses, but most of the magic happened naturally.

Lewis was used to the camera, and there were moments when you almost forgot that there was a camera.

“Lean into him a bit more. Yes, perfect. Now, look at each other like you’re sharing a secret.”

You tilted your head toward Lewis. “Secret?” you whispered.

“I was going to say how stunning you look,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “But I don't think that is a secret.”

The photographer’s shutter clicked furiously as you laughed, unable to contain your joy.

Another setup featured a velvet couch, with you perched elegantly while Lewis sat beside you, his arm draped protectively over you.

“Let’s try something more candid. Maybe a moment of celebration?”

Without missing a beat, Lewis leaned over to whisper in your ear. “Remember when I said this was for us?”

You nodded.

“I lied. This is also for me. Because I get to show off the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You smiled at him, your genuine happiness lighting up the frame. It was heartwarming to see Lewis so proud and happy.

As the session wound down, the photographer prepared for the final shot. “Let’s end with something intimate,” she suggested. “A kiss, perhaps?”

You turned to Lewis, your heart full as he cupped your face gently.

The kiss was soft, tender, and unhurried, a perfect reflection of the love you shared.

The camera clicked, but the world around you seemed to disappear.

When you finally pulled back, Lewis pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For being here. For always being here,” he said, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me.”

You smiled, your eyes misting over. “You already do, Lewis.”

The photoshoot ended.

But now you have the pictures to always remember these moments.

Each photograph captured the joy, love, and hope that was your relationship with Lewis.

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writeriguess · 2 days ago

Note

Hiyaa!!!

I'm so so so glad that you're back! I wish you the best and hope you have the perfect time writing and enjoying this🥰

Since you said you got your old requests deleted I guess I'll send mine again XD

I had sorta of a specific request afab!reader x Bakugo first time (nsfw)? Reader and Bakugo known each other since middle school and hated each other's guts but then in the first year of ua thing start to change... Like a enemies to friends to lovers thingy And they confess to each other a day before the final war now it's several months after that and when Bakugo takes reader for hiking on the weekend but then end up having their first time in the hot springs?

I hope it's not too much XD

Thank you!✨❤️

author's note: I remember writing this request before and feeling proud of it, but unfortunately, I cleared my entire queue of over 40 fics when the plagiarism issue surfaced. It's been quite a while since I last wrote NSFW content, so I need to practice again. I apologize in advance if the smut scene ends up being a bit brief.

From Sparks

The crunch of boots against gravel echoed through the serene mountains as Bakugo Katsuki led the way up the hiking trail. The midday sun filtered through the canopy of towering trees, casting golden patches of light on the forest floor. Behind him, you followed, your breath hitching slightly from the climb.

The crisp mountain air filled your lungs as you adjusted the strap of your backpack, keeping your gaze on Bakugo's broad back. The way his shoulders flexed under his tank top with every step he took distracted you from the ache in your legs. He glanced over his shoulder, the usual fiery determination in his crimson eyes softened by a rare smirk.

"Keep up, slowpoke," he teased, his voice playful but laced with the competitive edge you’d grown to expect from him.

“Maybe if you weren’t trying to kill me with this climb,” you shot back, feigning annoyance. “You know, not everyone has the stamina of a hero like you.”

He huffed out a laugh, slowing his pace slightly. “Didn’t think you’d wanna quit on me, considering how much you run your mouth.”

The banter felt natural, a sign of how far the two of you had come since those middle school days filled with endless bickering. Back then, you couldn’t stand each other, always butting heads over the smallest things. Now, years later, things were different. The bond forged through shared battles and late-night confessions made your relationship unshakable.

When you finally reached the summit, Bakugo stopped abruptly, turning to face you as you caught up. His face was flushed, either from the climb or the way his eyes lingered on you. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you with an expression that made your heart race.

“This way,” he said gruffly, jerking his thumb toward a path off the main trail. You followed, curious as to where he was leading you.

The sound of running water reached your ears before you saw it—a hidden hot spring tucked away behind a cluster of rocks. Steam rose from the clear, inviting water, curling in the cool mountain air like a beckoning promise.

“You planned this?” you asked, your voice tinged with surprise and delight.

Bakugo shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Figured you could use some downtime. We both could.”

Without waiting for a response, he began peeling off his boots and shirt, leaving you frozen in place. His sculpted physique was on full display, every scar and muscle a testament to the life he led.

“You coming or what?” he called over his shoulder, his smirk returning.

Your heart hammered as you quickly removed your shoes and outer layers, stepping into the warm water. It enveloped you like a soothing embrace, but the proximity of Bakugo, now sitting beside you with the water lapping at his chest, set your nerves alight.

The conversation dwindled, replaced by a comfortable silence as the two of you soaked in the tranquil atmosphere. His hand brushed against yours beneath the surface, tentative at first, but when you didn’t pull away, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off with a gentle tug, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. His hands settled on your hips, steadying you. “Just… let me do this.”

His lips crashed into yours, a mixture of urgency and tenderness that stole your breath away. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the heat of his touch and the sound of your racing heart.

Your breath hitched when you felt his hardness pressing against your swollen pussy lips, and you couldn't help but moan. Katsuki smirked, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His usual brash confidence was softened by something more intimate, more vulnerable—a rare glimpse of the man beneath the hero.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, carrying the weight of emotions he rarely expressed. His hands tightened on your hips, grounding you as his forehead pressed against yours.

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. You couldn’t imagine a better place to be than here with him, sharing something you had never dared to hope for.

You let out a soft whimper when he entered you, his cock filling you completely. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you rocked against him, taking him deeper. His hips snapped upward, driving his length even further inside you.

Katsuki let out a low growl, his teeth grazing your neck. Your skin prickled with anticipation, heightening every sensation. Pleasure coiled deep within you, building with each thrust until you couldn't hold back any longer.

Your release washed over you like a wave, the rush of emotions and physical sensations threatening to drown you. Bakugo followed shortly after, his body tensing as he came.

When your breathing finally returned to normal, he pulled back, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked, his tone soft despite the edge of frustration in his words.

"I could ask you the same question," you replied, giving him a smile that left no doubt about your feelings.

Katsuki chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess we're both fucked."

His kiss was softer this time, a promise of things to come. You didn't know where the two of you were headed, but whatever happened, you knew it would be worth it.

Feel free to request <3

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #fanfic #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #oneshot #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia

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maxispixels · 1 day ago

Text

HANDPICKED

PART SEVEN.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

2k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?

CW: Minor injuries, vague mention of politics

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight.

The weather had not gotten any softer, but you felt much better. Apart from a few sniffles, you were all good. Naturally, you came back to work, and thanked Rose warmly for the soup. Not for bringing Hobie to your house, although you could’ve.

He didn’t show up again for a while, but you weren’t as worried. You felt confident in the fact he would come back to you at some point. You’d gotten used to his habit of disappearing for a while every few days. Still, it felt a little empty without him, and you caught yourself turning to his corner of the shop to say something, only to be met with his absence.

Rose stayed in the shop with you the first few days after you came back to make sure you were okay. She was stern, and had a tendency for tough love, but you knew she meant well, and you could feel her caring underside. She even made you tea every morning and handed it to you with a look that said, drink this, or else. You’d laugh, but you drank it.

What you enjoyed a lot less was BBC radio 1 constantly on. The top chart was nice, but the news just made you anxious. A lot of strikes were going on across the country, something about coal miners, then about a car company, you weren’t sure. It was confusing and honestly quite scary.

The government’s answer seemed unreasonably violent, and conflict with Ireland seemed to get renewed. You remembered how horrible it went a few years ago, and you shivered at the idea of it degenerating again.

You wondered if Hobie cared, or if he was even involved. He still didn’t tell you about anything, and you could only take his secretive nature for so long. You guys were friends, right? Kinda? Somewhat? He could be honest with you.

Your eyes drifted to the big front windows, as the sun was setting low behind the thick grey clouds. One thing you couldn’t hate here was the sunset in early winter. Sure, it looked a little ominous, but so did all great things. Your mind flickered back to Hobie for a second, before you well pulled back into reality as distant police sirens resonated in the streets not too far.

The newspaper beside the till taunted you with headlines that mirrored your growing anxiety. It dawned on you. There was no escaping your country’s slow descent into madness.

At least, the clock announced the end of your shift, and with a wistful sigh, you gathered your things and closed the shop. You made your way home, avoiding the streets where protesters usually marched in. You just didn’t want to get caught up in anything dangerous. Maybe it was a little cowardly, but you just wanted to maintain your peace.

The ride home dragged on, each turn of the corner to your street tightening a knot in your stomach. You weren’t sure if it was all in your head, if the constant assault of bad news you couldn’t shield yourself from was finally messing with your brain.

You felt the air shift as you climbed the stairs to your flat. It smelled like metal and tar, and it made your insides twist. This was definitely not your imagination. You held your keys in between your fingers inside your pocket.

A large, heavy hand slid on your arm, startling you, and you defensively pulled out your keys. Your heart leapt to your throat as you spun, but the familiar voice grounded you before your panic could spiral. “Not like that, sweetheart.” The relief that it was Hobie was short-lived as your eyes took in his battered state.

“Hobie…” you called softly, your lips parted as your eyes fell on his bruised and swollen cheek.

“Lemme show ya.” He gently grabbed your wrist, adjusting your hand around the key so you held it more like a dagger, pointing downward. “‘ere. You’ll have more strength and you won’t risk breakin’ any of your fingers.” He breathed, his voice rough and low.

You barely registered his words, your gaze scanning every little blemish or mark on his face. You instinctively reached to brush his skin.

In a now familiar gesture, he grabbed your wrist again, moving it away from his face, not allowing you to touch him. Your eyebrows furrowed but you let go, instead rushing to open your door. “How long have you been waiting?” You asked as you kicked your shoes off and held the door for him.

“For you? Forever.”

You didn’t know if you were supposed to laugh at his cryptic words. You took another long look at his face. It looked like he took a good punch, at least. The skin on his cheek was swollen and inflamed. His lip had been busted, but the blood was already dry. You grabbed a bag of frozen peas, wrapping it in a cloth as you gave it to him.

“Thanks…” he muttered, holding the pack to his swollen cheek. With a quiet hiss, he sank onto your bed.

You looked down at him, your chin tilted down to your chest. “You know, I’m going to have to ask questions at some point.” You murmured, almost shy.

“Mmh.” He laid his head on the pillow. “No one’s forcin’ ya to.”

You sighed at his retort. “First, are you hurt anywhere else?”

He shook his head, but you hesitated to believe him.

“Could use a massage.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “My shoulders are really sore.” You just pouted at him, earning a low laugh. “Kiddin’.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You insisted, your eyes scanning for more injuries.

“Mhh. You shoulda seen the other guy.”

You puckered your lips a little, biting the inside of your cheek. You weren’t sure if you should be angry at him or not. It wasn’t your place anyway, was it? “Hobie.” Something like a plea bled through your tone, taking you both by surprise.

A moment of silence stretched between both of you, until you plopped down next to him, bouncing on the mattress for a second.

“So, you were in a fight…” You assumed, as he spoke about ‘the other guy’. “What happened?”

His gaze flickered away in a moment of hesitation. “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the mystery.”

Your fists clenched the fabric of your clothes tightly, and the way the corners of your lips tugged down made his throat tighten. Your heart sank. He wasn’t looking away, and you didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

Then, you noticed his hand getting cold and sore, holding the bag of frozen peas on his cheeks. You leaned closer and held it for him. “There.” He twitched and pulled back a little.

“Hold still—You’re going to make the swelling worse!” You scolded softly, careful with the bag and the cloth. You shifted on your knees, just slightly closer to him.

“Mh. Ain’t used to someone lookin’ after me like this. Dunno if I’ll get used to it or run away scared.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re scared of a frozen bag of peas?”

“Nah, scared of ya lookin’ at me like that, all soft an’ sweet.” His voice dropped. “Dangerous, you are.”

You weren’t sure just how much he was just trying to mess with you, and you just stared up blankly, blinking at him. Your jaw hung open, your breath uneven and he rolled his eyes. “You’re doing it again—”

Suddenly, your lap was the most interesting thing in the world as you couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. You caught a glimpse of his raw knuckles, and it reminded you of why you were in that position in the first place.

“You can’t keep dodging my questions…”

“How I’d love to prove ya wrong.”

You sighed softly, examining his face again, his slightly busted lip, his discomfort at the cold against his cheek. You looked at his eyes, almost able to count his eyelashes. Thick and long.

“Hobie…” You pleaded again, not sure what about.

“You can’t keep usin’ that on me.” He groaned.

“Why the secrecy?” Your voice softened, almost timid. “Don’t you trust me?”

A silence lingered at the end of your sentence.

“I don’t want to drag you into this mess.”

Your stomach twisted.

“I almost did, but I don’t want to anymore.” He breathed softly.

“What do you mean?” You asked in a murmur.

“I wanna keep ya in your bubble.” Your eyebrows knitted together, needing him to elaborate.

“Y’know, it used to frustrate me a little, how… Oblivious, you seemed. Nothing touched you. This place is sinkin’, people are dyin’ in the streets while the queen's parade for her jubilee and you… You just fuss about your flowers, an’ you do watercolors.”

You felt a little hurt at that. Not only did you just learn that you frustrated him, but hearing him talk about you like you didn’t care was upsetting. You weren’t the most involved, but every headline you read made you sick. You cared so much it overwhelmed you.

“Am I supposed to stop living and sulk over everything wrong in the world all the time?”

He didn’t look away. “That’s not what I mean.” He pinched his lips, looking for his words. “On the contrary, that’s what I learnt to appreciate so much. I’d walk into the shop and feel like I could breathe again, that things could still be alright.” His voice dipped lower.

“Flowers can have that effect…”

“T’was not the flowers, love.” His hand found the back of your head, gently resting on the nape of your neck.

The hair on your arms stood up, and you almost did as well, just to try and run from the burning sensation in your stomach. The hand holding the frozen peas had started to shake a little, and his free hand grabbed the bag to let it on the bedside table. “I should put them away, not waste them…” You murmured.

“Shh.” He held you in place. “I’ll get ya the whole aisle of frozen peas if you want. Asparagus even. Stay ‘ere.”

His hand lingered on the back of your neck, his thumb tracing barely-there circles that made the hair stand up across your back. The air had never felt heavier, so thick it made it hard to breathe. He was touching you so gently, like you were something precious. Like you were one of the roses he picked up so carefully when you first met him.

“Y’know,” he started again, his voice a hint softer. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m bangin’ my way on the wall, tryin’ to change a world that just don’t want to. But then there’s you.”

You blinked, unsure if he was still joking or if the warmth in his voice was real.

“Me?”

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. You. With your watercolors and your daisies. Remindin’ me there’s still somethin’ worth fightin’ for.”

Your heart twisted, caught between surprise and something warmer. “Hobie… That’s not—”

“Sh. Don’t argue. Don’t argue with me on that.” Your eyes were wide and his half-lidded. “You don’t know what it’s like to come outta all that chaos and find you.” He paused, his thumb stilling on your skin. “That’s why I don’t wanna tell you a thing. Keep you out of everythin’. T’keep me sane.”

Anything you’d try to say would come out in a jumbled mess, and you weren't even sure you could keep your voice steady. So instead, you remained silent, your eyes tracing the lines of his cheeks, the shadows beneath his eyes.

His hand slipped away and you suddenly felt cold. He shifted, leaning back against the wall, his head tilted towards the ceiling. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it still felt heavy, full of bottled up feelings that refused to be shared.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You shouldn't let me stay too long. It's bad 'abit."

You tilted your head to look at him. "Hobie," you murmured quietly, like you were calling his name in a prayer. "I don't think I could stop you even if I tried."

His lips curled into something between a grin and a smile. "Dangerous, you are."

You let the silence fill the room again, it felt lighter somehow. You just stayed close to him, close enough to hear his breathing, much slower than the pulse you felt in your temple.

Part eight.

@hoe-bie (since you asked, hope that's how we do it)

#hobie brown #astv fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spiderpunk #x reader #handpicked

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rubyuji · 3 days ago

Text

Where the Roses Bloom (Joshua Hong) ✞⋆⭒˚.⋆

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Genre: Slowburn, Angst

AU: 1950s AU

Pairing: Friar!Joshua x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Working unconventional jobs (Reader is a dancer in the red light district because she's a run away), Seungcheol is an asshole

Synopsis: A wealthy runaway seeking freedom and a devout seminarian devoted to faith find an unexpected connection in Crimson Lane, where love becomes their greatest salvation and torment. Torn between their hearts and the lives they are destined to lead, they are forced to confront sacrifice, identity, and the cost of their choices.

Note: I've been obsessed with Hilda Furacão lately and am currently watching it because the story is so intriguing, so why not publish my own take on Hilda and Malthus' story you know? Also, I'm so glad I've found the time to publish a few more works in my busy schedule because I've missed writing. I hope you guys enjoy reading! Don't forget to like + reblog as always.

W.C: 7.2k

You are the beloved daughter of a wealthy, conservative family, a fragile porcelain doll meant to adorn the halls of high society. Every word you speak is measured, every gesture rehearsed, every smile carefully crafted to maintain the illusion of perfection your family has built around you.

You have always known your place in their world—a tool to be wielded in their quest for status and legacy.

But tonight, the cracks in that porcelain threaten to shatter completely.

“You bring shame to this family!” your father’s voice thunders through the drawing room, his face flushed with fury. He paces back and forth like a predator circling its prey, while your mother sits rigidly on the velvet settee, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Do you even realize what you’ve done? Do you understand the humiliation you’ve caused us?”

Your fiancé stands off to the side, his arms crossed and a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He says nothing, content to let your parents do the dirty work of berating you.

You can still feel the sting of his earlier words, the way he dismissed your reluctance as childishness and called you ungrateful for even questioning the life planned for you.

“Humiliation?” you finally snap, your voice trembling but strong enough to cut through the oppressive atmosphere. “The only humiliation here is being forced into a marriage with a man who sees me as nothing more than property!”

“Watch your tone!” your father bellows, slamming his hand against the mahogany table. “You will marry him, and you will do so with dignity. That is your duty to this family.”

“And what about my duty to myself?” you demand, your voice breaking. “Don’t I deserve to choose my own life? To be something more than just a pawn in your plans?”

“Enough!” your mother interjects sharply, her icy gaze locking onto yours.

“You are selfish, ungrateful, and disgraceful. Do you think anyone else would have you after this display? Your childish rebellion ends now. Tomorrow, you will apologize to your fiancé and prepare for the engagement ceremony.”

The room falls silent, the air thick with unspoken threats and unrelenting pressure. You look at each of them—your father, red-faced and seething; your mother, cold and unyielding; and your fiancé, smug and victorious. It feels as though the walls are closing in, the weight of their expectations suffocating you.

“I’d rather die than live like this,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Your father stiffens, his face twisting with rage, but you don’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you turn on your heel and storm out of the room, the sound of your mother’s sharp voice calling after you fading into the background.

You run to your room, grabbing a small bag and stuffing it with essentials—money, jewelry, a coat.

The thought of staying here one more night, of bowing to their will and losing yourself completely, is unbearable. With shaking hands, you throw open the window and climb out, your heart pounding as you disappear into the cool night air.

The city is a blur as you wander, your breath visible in the chilly air. Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You’ve made your choice. There’s no turning back now.

By the time you reach Crimson Lane, your feet ache, and your throat is raw from the cold.

The district looms before you like a forbidden dream—a world of sin, danger, and freedom. Smoke rises from narrow alleyways, mingling with the faint strains of music and the chatter of strangers.

You stumble, and a hand reaches out to steady you. A woman with painted lips and tired but kind eyes looks you over, taking in your disheveled appearance and the fine fabric of your coat.

“You’re not from here, are you?” she asks, her voice gentle but wary.

You shake your head, your voice faltering as you say, “I… I have nowhere else to go.”

She studies you for a moment, then gestures for you to follow her. “Come on, then. You’ll freeze out here.”

She leads you deeper into the district, where the streets glow with lantern light and the scent of spice and smoke fills the air.

The people here are rough around the edges, their laughter loud and unapologetic, but there’s a warmth to them—a sense of camaraderie that you’ve never felt in your old life.

The woman introduces herself as Lucia and takes you to La Rosa, a club that feels like the beating heart of Crimson Lane. The velvet curtains, the glittering chandeliers, the sound of laughter and music—it’s a world so far removed from the one you left behind that it feels almost dreamlike.

“You’ll be safe here,” Lucia says. “We take care of our own.”

For the first time in your life, you feel a flicker of hope. Here, you are not a disgrace or a disappointment. Here, you are free to be whoever you want to be.

Joshua steps hesitantly onto the cobblestone streets of Crimson Lane, his polished shoes carrying him into a world that seems to pulse with temptation and sin. The air is thick and heavy with the mingling scents of smoke, cheap liquor, and perfume.

Neon signs flicker above the doorways of clubs and gambling dens, casting the streets in a kaleidoscope of red and gold. Laughter and music spill out into the night, wild and unrestrained, unlike anything he’s ever known.

He grips the cross hanging from his neck, the smooth metal cool against his palm, as if to remind himself of who he is and why he’s here.

This place feels godless, a maze of excess and indulgence, yet it is precisely where he believes his mission lies. Beneath the vice, he is certain there is still humanity—still souls waiting to be saved.

Joshua’s purpose tonight is clear: to bring a young man, barely more than a boy, back to the fold. The boy has been seen frequenting La Rosa, a club infamous even in this district.

Its reputation precedes it—a place of opulence and decadence where rules are rewritten nightly. Joshua’s breath quickens as the club comes into view, its crimson façade glowing like an ember in the darkness.

The doorman eyes him with suspicion as he steps inside, but no one stops him. The moment he enters, the atmosphere changes. It’s warmer, almost stifling, and alive with sound.

The low hum of a saxophone weaves through the air, mingling with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. The scent of wine and something floral—jasmine, maybe—lingers in the room, intoxicating and overwhelming.

He scans the room, searching for the boy, but his attention is drawn to the stage. The lights dim, and the murmur of the crowd fades as a figure steps into the spotlight.

And then he sees you.

You command the stage with an effortless grace, your every movement exuding confidence and allure. The dress you wear shimmers under the soft glow of the lights, its fabric hugging your figure in a way that makes the audience hold their breath.

You are radiant, magnetic, and utterly otherworldly. But what strikes Joshua most is your voice—a sultry, melodic sound that seems to reach deep into his chest and pull something loose.

His heart stirs in a way it never has before, and for a moment, the weight of his faith feels distant. He forgets his mission, forgets the boy, forgets where he is. All he can do is watch as you weave your spell, your voice filling every corner of the room.

And then, as if sensing his gaze, you look at him.

The moment your eyes meet his, time seems to slow. You’ve seen countless faces in your time at La Rosa, most of them predictable—men with hungry eyes and insincere smiles, women with envy or admiration etched into their expressions. But he is different.

There’s something pure in the way he looks at you, something almost reverent. His gaze doesn’t linger on your body like the others; instead, it searches your face, as if he’s trying to understand you. It unnerves you, yet you can’t look away.

Joshua’s grip on his cross tightens, a silent prayer forming on his lips as his mind races.

Who are you? How can someone so captivating, so seemingly untouchable, exist in a place like this? He feels a pang of guilt for the way his heart beats faster, but there’s something deeper, something undeniable, that draws him to you.

The song ends, and the applause erupts, breaking the spell. You step back from the spotlight, but your gaze flickers toward him once more before you disappear into the wings. Joshua stands frozen, the world around him fading into a blur.

Later that night, as the crowd thins and the music softens, Joshua lingers near the edge of the stage. He tells himself it’s to wait for the boy, to fulfill the purpose that brought him here. But his eyes keep darting toward the backstage entrance, his mind replaying the moment your eyes met his.

When you finally approach, your footsteps soft against the polished floor, he feels a jolt of panic and something else—anticipation. You stop in front of him, your head tilted in curiosity.

Up close, you’re even more stunning, but there’s something in your expression that takes him by surprise. Beneath the confidence, there’s a flicker of vulnerability, a depth that the stage lights couldn’t fully reveal.

“You don’t look like the type to spend your nights in places like this,” you say, your voice softer now, laced with intrigue.

Joshua clears his throat, his fingers brushing against the cross again. “I’m… not,” he admits, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest. “I’m here for someone. A young man from my parish.”

“Ah,” you reply with a wry smile. “A shepherd in the den of wolves.”

Your words are teasing, but your tone isn’t cruel. There’s a warmth in your gaze that disarms him, even as his instincts tell him to tread carefully. “I believe there’s good here,” he says, surprising even himself with the conviction in his voice. “Even in a place like this.”

Your smile falters, just for a moment, and Joshua catches the shadow that crosses your face. “Goodness,” you murmur, almost as if testing the word. “Not many would think so.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but you step closer, your presence enveloping him in a way that makes the world feel impossibly small.

“So, what’s your name, shepherd?” you ask, your eyes studying him with genuine curiosity.

“Joshua,” he answers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You repeat his name, letting it roll off your tongue as if savoring its simplicity. For a moment, you forget about the performance, the crowd, the life you’ve built in La Rosa. There is something about this man, something untainted and sincere, that draws you in despite yourself.

And as you stand there, the weight of your respective worlds pressing against you, neither of you realizes how deeply your lives are about to intertwine.

The first time you and Joshua meet outside of La Rosa, it’s in the quiet corner of a small café tucked away from the chaos of Crimson Lane.

You arrive first, your coat wrapped tightly around you to ward off the chill, though you know it does little to shield you from the prying eyes of those who recognize you.

When Joshua enters, his presence shifts the room. He isn’t dressed in his cassock but in simple, clean-cut clothes that make him seem less like a devout seminarian and more like a boy trying to blend into a world he doesn’t belong to.

Still, his earnest gaze gives him away, and the way he hesitates before sitting across from you tells you he’s nervous.

“You came,” you say softly, sipping your tea to mask the flicker of relief in your voice.

“I wasn’t sure if I should,” Joshua admits, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “But I thought… maybe you needed someone to talk to.”

The words catch you off guard. Most men come to you with expectations—of entertainment, of distraction, of something shallow and fleeting. But Joshua looks at you as if he genuinely wants to understand, to know the real you beneath the performance.

“I’m not used to people wanting to just ‘talk,’” you reply, your lips curling into a small smile.

He smiles, too, and for a moment, the tension between you eases. “I’m not like most people.”

Your meetings become a routine, a secret shared only between the two of you. Sometimes you meet in quiet cafés; other times, it’s in the park just as dawn begins to break, the city still cloaked in silence.

Joshua asks you questions no one has ever dared to ask. “Do you ever miss your old life?” he asks one morning, his voice gentle but probing.

You pause, your gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun spills golden light over the rooftops. “I miss parts of it,” you admit. “The security, maybe. The certainty. But not the suffocation.”

Joshua nods, his expression thoughtful. “And now? Do you feel free?”

You turn to him, meeting his earnest gaze. “Freedom isn’t as simple as leaving behind what holds you back. It’s… complicated.”

He doesn’t push further, but the way he looks at you lingers, as if he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that’s missing too many pieces.

The conversations shift over time, becoming deeper, more intimate. Joshua talks about his faith, his calling, and the doubts that sometimes creep in despite his unwavering belief in something greater.

“I’ve always wanted to help people,” he says one evening, the two of you seated on a bench under the soft glow of a street lamp. “To give them hope, to remind them that they’re not alone. But sometimes… I wonder if I’m enough.”

“You’re more than enough,” you say, the words slipping out before you can think better of them. He looks at you, startled, and you feel a rush of heat rise to your cheeks. “I mean… you’ve already helped me, haven’t you?”

Joshua’s expression softens, and for a moment, the distance between your worlds feels smaller.

The unspoken desires between you grow harder to ignore. There are moments when your fingers brush as you walk side by side, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you.

When he speaks, his voice low and full of conviction, you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to pull him closer, to feel the weight of his devotion turned entirely toward you.

For Joshua, the temptation is both exhilarating and terrifying. He tells himself that he is here to guide you, to help you see the light. But with every meeting, every shared smile, he feels the foundation of his faith tremble.

You are not the sinner he expected to find in Crimson Lane. You are complex, brave, and endlessly captivating.

In you, Joshua sees a reflection of his own humanity—the doubts he wrestles with, the longing for something more than the rigid path he has chosen. And in him, you see the purity and sincerity you thought the world had forgotten.

One night, after hours of quiet conversation and stolen glances, the silence stretches between you. The streets are unusually still, the usual hum of Crimson Lane reduced to faint murmurs and the occasional clatter of footsteps in the distance.

You’re seated on a weathered wooden bench beneath a streetlamp that flickers every so often, casting fleeting shadows across your faces. The glow illuminates Joshua’s profile, highlighting the soft curve of his jaw and the furrow in his brow that deepens when he’s lost in thought.

The air between you feels heavier tonight, charged with something unspoken, a tension that neither of you has dared to fully acknowledge.

You’re no stranger to silences, but this one feels different, as if the words trapped within it could change everything.

“Joshua,” you finally say, your voice barely audible against the stillness.

His name lingers on your tongue, familiar and strange all at once. It feels too intimate, like a secret you’re not sure you should share, yet you’ve never been able to call him anything else.

He turns to you, his eyes meeting yours with that quiet intensity that has always disarmed you. His gaze is steady, but there’s a vulnerability in it tonight, a crack in the armor of his resolve.

“Do you ever wish things were different?” you ask, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. Your voice trembles slightly, betraying the depth of your hesitation. “That you could… choose a life that wasn’t already decided for you?”

Joshua doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks away, his eyes following the faint outline of smoke curling from a nearby chimney. His fingers toy with the cross hanging around his neck, the movement absentminded yet telling.

“I think about it,” he says after a long pause, his voice thick with emotion. “Sometimes, when I’m alone, I wonder what it would be like to live without all the expectations. To… to make choices just for myself.”

His confession surprises you, and you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name—relief, perhaps, that even someone as steadfast as Joshua isn’t immune to doubt. “And what would you choose?” you ask, leaning closer without realizing it.

He hesitates, his gaze flickering back to you. For a moment, you see the walls he’s built around himself falter.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I think about you.”

The words hit you like a storm, sudden and all-consuming. Your breath catches, and for a moment, you forget how to speak. “Me?” you manage, your voice unsteady.

Joshua nods, his eyes searching yours for something—understanding, perhaps, or courage.

“I think about the way you talk about freedom, about wanting to find yourself. I’ve spent my whole life trying to give myself to something greater, to serve a purpose beyond myself. But when I’m with you… I don’t feel lost. I feel like I’m finally being seen.”

The honesty in his words is almost too much to bear. You feel your throat tighten, your chest aching with the weight of emotions you’ve tried to suppress.

“You see me, too,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Not the person I pretend to be at La Rosa, or the daughter my family wanted me to be. You see the parts of me I thought were long gone.”

The silence that follows is deafening, every breath, every heartbeat magnified. You want to reach for him, to close the small distance between you, but you’re paralyzed by the fear of what it might mean.

“Do you ever wonder if we were meant to meet?” you ask quietly, your words tentative, as if afraid to give them too much power.

Joshua’s lips curve into the faintest smile, a mixture of sorrow and something almost like hope. “All the time,” he says. “But I also wonder what it means. If this—if we—are a test or a gift.”

You don’t know how to respond. You don’t know how to tell him that the mere thought of him has become both your solace and your torment, that he’s made you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

“I don’t have the answers,” you say softly, your gaze dropping to the ground. “But I know that being with you makes the world feel less heavy. And maybe that’s enough.”

Joshua reaches out then, his hand hovering between you as if he’s fighting an internal battle. Finally, he lets it rest gently on yours, the touch warm and grounding. You look up at him, startled, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Maybe it is,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

In that moment, the world around you seems to fade, the noise of Crimson Lane replaced by the quiet rhythm of your breathing. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe in the possibility of something more.

The change in Joshua is subtle at first, almost imperceptible to those around him. He still attends his daily prayers and still preaches sermons that touch hearts and inspire hope, but there’s a new uncertainty in his eyes, a hesitance in his voice when he speaks of his calling. His mentor at the parish, Father Miguel, notices the shift and questions him one evening.

“You seem troubled, Joshua,” Father Miguel says gently, his gaze steady but not unkind. “Is there something you wish to confess?”

Joshua hesitates, the weight of his secret relationship with you pressing heavily on his chest. He shakes his head, offering a polite smile. “No, Father. I’m just… reflecting on my work here.”

Father Miguel doesn’t push, but his concern lingers. “Remember, doubt is part of faith. But so is discernment. Pray on it, Joshua, and trust that you’ll find your way.”

Joshua nods, but the advice feels hollow. He doesn’t need to pray to know what troubles him—it’s you.

For you, the change is more visceral. The armor you’ve worn for so long, the persona you’ve carefully crafted at La Rosa, begins to crack.

Joshua’s faith and kindness, so foreign in a world that has often shown you cruelty, force you to confront truths you’ve buried.

One night, after a particularly vulnerable conversation, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror backstage at La Rosa. The vibrant makeup and glittering costumes no longer feel like a shield but a mask you’re desperate to shed.

You think of Joshua’s words, his belief that goodness exists even in the darkest places, and wonder if you could ever truly believe that about yourself.

Later, as you and Joshua sit on the steps of a quiet chapel he’s introduced you to, you let the words spill out. “I’ve spent so much of my life pretending,” you admit, your voice trembling.

“Pretending to be the perfect daughter, pretending to be strong, pretending that none of this bothers me. But with you…” You pause, struggling to find the words. “I feel like I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Joshua reaches for your hand, his touch gentle but firm. “You don’t,” he says quietly. “You never did. You’re enough just as you are, Y/N.”

His words undo you, tears slipping down your cheeks as the weight you’ve carried for so long begins to lift.

But the fragile connection you’ve built with Joshua doesn’t go unnoticed. In a world as tightly knit as Crimson Lane, whispers spread faster than wildfire.

At La Rosa, the staff begins to exchange knowing looks, their smiles laced with curiosity and judgment. Madame Maria, always watchful, pulls you aside one evening after a particularly dazzling performance.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” she says, her voice light but with an undertone of steel. Her sharp eyes bore into you, assessing every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. “Is there something—or someone—you’d like to tell me about?”

Your heart races, but you force yourself to remain composed. “I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, carefully neutral.

Maria’s smile doesn’t waver, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes. “Be careful, darling,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “You may think you’re invincible, but the world outside these walls has a way of tearing people like you apart. And men like him…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“Men like him don’t belong here.” The warning lingers in the air, unspoken yet clear: your relationship with Joshua is a risk, not just for you but for him as well.

Joshua also faces his share of scrutiny. His absences and distracted demeanor don’t go unnoticed by the parish elders, who begin to question his commitment.

One evening, as he prepares to leave for another secret meeting with you, Father Miguel intercepts him at the church doors.

“Joshua,” the older priest says, his tone firm but kind, “it’s clear that something is weighing on you. You’ve always been a man of conviction, but conviction without clarity can lead you astray. Is there something you need to confess?”

Joshua hesitates, his hand tightening around the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m… just trying to help someone,” he says, the words feeling both true and insufficient.

Father Miguel’s expression hardens, though his voice remains gentle. “Sometimes, the greatest tests of faith come disguised as acts of kindness. Be sure you are not mistaking temptation for charity.”

Joshua looks away, guilt and longing warring within him.

“She’s not a temptation,” he says quietly. “She’s someone who’s lost, someone who deserves to be seen, to be valued. I can’t turn my back on her.”

Father Miguel sighs deeply, his disappointment palpable. “Then you must ask yourself, Joshua, if this is the path you truly wish to walk. Because once you choose, there may be no turning back.”

The scrutiny grows, and the walls around your relationship begin to close in. You find yourself plagued by doubts late at night, wondering if holding on to Joshua is selfish, if you are pulling him away from a life he was meant to live.

One evening, as you and Joshua sit together in the dimly lit chapel, the weight of everything finally becomes too much to bear.

“They’re watching us,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “People are talking, and I… I can’t let them ruin you, Joshua. You’ve worked so hard for this life.”

Joshua reaches for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “You’re not ruining me,” he says, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“You’ve made me question things I was too afraid to question before. You’ve shown me that there’s more to faith than rules and expectations. There’s… love. Compassion. Humanity.”

“But what if I’m a mistake?” you ask, your voice breaking as tears threaten to spill. “What if loving me ruins everything you’ve built?”

Joshua’s gaze softens, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

“You’re not a mistake,” he says, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “And if loving you is wrong, then maybe everything I’ve been taught about right and wrong isn’t as simple as I thought.”

His words hang in the air, a declaration that feels both like a promise and a challenge.

As the night stretches on, the line between what is right and what is necessary blurs, leaving the two of you caught in the fragile, intoxicating space in between.

The fragile world you and Joshua have built begins to teeter as the shadows of your past and the expectations of his present loom closer.

It begins with the sudden arrival of your former fiancé, Seungcheol—a man you thought you’d left behind forever. He finds you at La Rosa one evening, standing in the crowd with a smug, self-satisfied smirk that sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re performing when you see him, your practiced poise faltering ever so slightly as his face registers in the crowd. Panic coils in your chest, but you force yourself to finish the performance, smiling and bowing as though your world hasn’t just shifted on its axis.

Afterward, he waits for you in the dimly lit corridor outside your dressing room, leaning casually against the wall as though he belongs there.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery. “Or should I say, Scarlet?”

You glare at him, your pulse racing as you step closer.

“What do you want, Seungcheol?” You hiss, his name slipping off your tongue like venom. He chuckles, his smirk widening.

“What I’ve always wanted. Control. You humiliated me, Y/N—running off like that, abandoning your family, your responsibilities, me. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal you caused?”

“I don’t care,” you snap, though your voice betrays the fear bubbling just beneath the surface. “You don’t own me, Seungcheol. You never did.”

His smile hardens, his tone growing cold. “Maybe not. But I do know things about you—things the world would love to hear. And I imagine your new… friend wouldn’t fare too well if they knew he was involved with someone like you.”

The threat hits its mark, your breath hitching as dread seeps into your bones.

“Leave him out of this,” you say, your voice firm despite the tremor in your hands.

Seungcheol shrugs, his eyes glinting with malice. “That’s up to you, darling. You come with me, quietly, and I’ll forget about this sordid little chapter of your life. Stay here, and I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who you are—and what you’ve done.”

Meanwhile, Joshua faces his own challenges. His growing absences and distracted demeanor have not gone unnoticed by his superiors at the parish. Father Miguel, once quietly concerned, now takes a firmer approach.

“You’ve been neglecting your duties, Joshua,” he says one evening, his tone sharper than usual. “The parish is a sacred commitment, one that requires your full devotion. I’ve given you time to reflect, but it’s clear your heart is no longer here.”

Joshua stiffens, guilt flickering across his face. “That’s not true, Father. I’ve been serving the people, just… in a different way.”

Father Miguel narrows his eyes, his voice dropping into a warning tone. “Serving them? Or serving yourself? I’ve heard the rumors, Joshua. About her. Is it true?”

Joshua hesitates, the weight of his connection to you pressing heavily on his chest.

“It’s complicated,” he finally says.

“Faith is not complicated,” Father Miguel retorts sharply. “It is a path of sacrifice and conviction. If you continue down this road, you will not only jeopardize your future in the church but also your soul.”

The tension between your two worlds becomes unbearable as Seungcheol’s threats grow bolder and Joshua’s superiors demand he sever ties with Crimson Lane entirely.

One evening, you and Joshua meet in the chapel, the only place you both feel safe enough to speak freely. The dim light of the candles flickers across Joshua’s face as he sits beside you, his expression a mixture of anguish and determination.

“He’s threatening you, isn’t he?” Joshua asks, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.

You nod, your hands trembling as you grip the edge of the pew. “He wants me to go back with him, to leave this place—and you—behind. If I don’t, he’ll ruin both of us.”

Joshua’s jaw clenches, his fists curling in his lap. “You don’t have to go with him. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“But what about you?” you ask, your voice breaking. “Your superiors are already suspicious. If Seungcheol exposes the truth, they’ll force you to leave the parish. Everything you’ve worked for will be gone.”

Joshua turns to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. “I don’t care about that,” he says firmly. “I care about you. I care about what’s right. If staying in the church means abandoning you, then maybe I’m not meant to stay.”

His words stun you into silence, your heart pounding as the gravity of his declaration sinks in. “Joshua,” you whisper, tears pooling in your eyes. “You can’t just give up everything for me. It’s not fair.”

“Fair or not, it’s the truth,” he says, his voice unwavering. “You’ve made me see things differently, Y/N. Maybe this is the test I’m supposed to face—not of my faith, but of my humanity.”

The decision weighs heavily on both of you. Seungcheol’s presence looms like a storm cloud, and Joshua’s faith is tested as he grapples with the idea of leaving behind a life he once thought was his calling.

In the quiet moments you share, there’s a sense of both urgency and tenderness, as though every touch, every word, could be your last.

Together, you must decide: will you stand against the forces threatening to tear you apart, or will you sacrifice your love to protect each other from a world that refuses to understand?

The days that follow Seungcheol’s threat and Father Miguel’s ultimatum feel like an unending storm, pulling you and Joshua in opposite directions. The quiet haven you had built together becomes fraught with tension, every meeting tinged with the unspoken knowledge that your time is running out.

You find yourself haunted by Seungcheol’s words. Every glance from a stranger feels like suspicion, every shadow a threat. At La Rosa, the staff are growing more curious, their whispers louder.

Even Madame Maria, who has always been fiercely protective of her own, seems hesitant now, her sharp gaze following you with a caution that wasn’t there before.

“Whatever you’re planning, darling,” she says one night after a show, her tone uncharacteristically soft, “be sure it’s worth the cost. Men like your Joshua—they don’t survive in places like this. And if you’re not careful, neither will you.”

Her words cut deep, but it’s the truth you already know.

Joshua, too, is unraveling. His prayers feel hollow, his faith no longer the comforting constant it once was. The parish feels foreign, its walls oppressive. Father Miguel’s disappointment lingers like a shadow, his words echoing in Joshua’s mind.

“This is your moment of truth, Joshua,�� he had said during their last conversation. “You must choose. Your faith or this… distraction. You cannot serve both God and your desires.”

But how could he explain that you weren’t a distraction? That what he felt for you was not temptation but something more profound—something that made him question the very foundations of his beliefs?

Still, doubt claws at him. He wonders if loving you is selfish, if he is abandoning his calling for something fleeting. Yet every time he sees you, every time your eyes meet his, he feels that his path might lie not in the church but in the simple, devastating truth of his feelings for you.

One evening, as the tension reaches its breaking point, you meet in the chapel again, both of you weighed down by the decisions looming ahead. The air between you crackles with unspoken words, the silence heavy and suffocating.

“Joshua,” you finally say, your voice trembling, “we can’t keep doing this.”

He turns to you sharply, his expression a mix of desperation and sorrow. “Don’t say that. Don’t give up on us.”

“It’s not about giving up,” you reply, your voice cracking. “It’s about doing what’s right. Seungcheol’s not going to stop. Your superiors are already suspicious. If we keep this up, it’ll destroy us both.”

“Let it,” he says fiercely, his hands curling into fists. “I don’t care about the church, about their rules. None of it matters if I can’t be with you.”

“But I care,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “I care about what this will do to you, Joshua. You have so much good in you—so much to give. You’re meant for something greater than this. Greater than me.”

“Stop it,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Stop saying that. You’re the one who’s shown me what faith truly means. You’ve made me see the world differently, made me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. How can you say you’re not worth it?”

“Because I love you,” you cry, your voice raw and aching. “And because I love you, I can’t let you throw your life away for me.”

The words hang between you, a devastating truth neither of you can escape.

Joshua’s shoulders slump, his resolve crumbling as he looks at you, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrors your own. “So this is it?” he whispers. “After everything, we’re just… walking away?”

You nod, though it feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest. “We have to. For both our sakes.”

He takes a shuddering breath, stepping closer to you. For a moment, you think he might argue again, but instead, he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as though trying to memorize the feel of your touch.

“I’ll never forget you,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “No matter where I go, no matter what I do… you’ll always be with me.”

You choke back a sob, squeezing his hand one last time before pulling away. “And I’ll always carry you in my heart, Joshua. But we can’t keep holding on to something that was never ours to begin with.”

The days that follow are excruciating. Joshua resigns from his post at the parish, choosing to leave Crimson Lane entirely. He doesn’t return to the church but instead travels to another city, seeking to rebuild his faith and his purpose in the quiet solitude of helping others.

You remain at La Rosa, but everything feels different now. The lights seem dimmer, the music hollow. The mask you wear grows heavier with each passing day.

Seungcheol eventually loses interest, his threats subsiding as he realizes you’ll never return to him. But his presence leaves a scar, a reminder of the life you escaped and the one you can never fully leave behind.

Years later, you hear the whispers of Joshua. He has become a quiet figure of inspiration, dedicating his life to working with the marginalized. His name is spoken with reverence in places far from Crimson Lane, but the man who loved you remains a ghost in your memory.

For him, you remain a lingering ache, a lesson in love and loss that shaped the man he has become. And though you’ll never see him again, you carry him with you—a reminder of the man who taught you to believe in something greater, even if that belief meant letting him go.

In the end, your paths diverge, but the love you shared leaves an indelible mark—a bittersweet testament to what could have been and what was sacrificed for the sake of survival.

Epilogue:

The grand ballroom is bathed in golden light, chandeliers casting their glow over a sea of elegantly dressed guests. The hum of polite conversation mingles with the soft strains of a string quartet, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and calm.

The gala, held to raise funds for a foundation supporting marginalized communities, is a testament to second chances—a theme that seems almost poetic as you step into the room.

You’ve come far since your days at La Rosa. The years have transformed you, though the fire in your spirit remains. Now a philanthropist in your own right, you’ve built a life dedicated to helping others reclaim their dignity, much like you once reclaimed your own.

Dressed in an understated yet elegant gown, you move through the crowd with quiet confidence, exchanging pleasantries and offering kind words.

But then, as you glance across the room, you see him.

Joshua.

He stands near the edge of the ballroom, deep in conversation with an elderly patron. Time has softened his youthful features, but his presence is as commanding as ever. His tailored suit fits him impeccably, and his familiar calmness radiates outward, drawing others in with his sincerity.

Your breath catches, memories rushing back in vivid detail—the warmth of his voice, the way his hand felt in yours, the bittersweet goodbye that had shattered you both. You had imagined this moment countless times but never truly believed it would come.

Joshua turns as though sensing your gaze, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. For a moment, the noise and motion of the gala seem to fade, leaving only the two of you in a shared silence.

His eyes widen briefly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips before his expression softens into something more unreadable—nostalgia, perhaps, or quiet wonder.

You hesitate, unsure whether to approach or retreat. But then, he takes a step forward, and the decision is made for you.

“Y/N,” he says when he reaches you, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

“Joshua,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel.

The world seems to slow as you take each other in, noting the changes time has wrought and marveling at the things that remain unchanged.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, his tone warm but tinged with surprise.

You smile softly, glancing around the room. “I could say the same about you. But then again, it doesn’t surprise me. This… this is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

He chuckles lightly, the sound stirring something deep within you. “And you? What brought you here?”

You shrug, your smile turning wistful. “Purpose. A second chance. I’ve learned a lot about how much people can overcome when someone believes in them.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze filled with something like admiration. “You’ve always had that strength. Even when you didn’t see it in yourself.”

You feel your chest tighten at his words, the tenderness in his voice tugging at old wounds and forgotten hopes. “And you?” you ask quietly. “Are you happy?”

He nods, his smile reaching his eyes. “I am. Life isn’t what I thought it would be, but… it’s good. I’ve found peace in helping others. It’s fulfilling in ways I never imagined.”

You nod, feeling a bittersweet mix of pride and sadness. “I’m glad. You deserve that, Joshua.”

For a moment, silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken words. There is so much you could say, so much you could ask, but you both know the answers won’t change the past—or the choices you made.

“I’ve thought about you,” he admits suddenly, his voice quiet. “Over the years. Wondered how you were, what you were doing. If you were happy.”

Your throat tightens, but you manage a small smile.

“I’ve thought about you too. More than I should, probably.”

His expression softens, and he takes a half-step closer, his voice dropping. “Do you regret it? Walking away?”

You take a deep breath, your eyes meeting his with a mix of honesty and pain. “I don’t regret loving you, Joshua. Not for a second. But I think we both know it couldn’t have ended any other way.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “You were right,” he says. “About everything. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

As the evening progresses, you find yourselves pulled back into the current of the gala. But even as you move among the other guests, you’re acutely aware of his presence, as though some invisible thread still connects you.

At the end of the night, you see him again, standing near the exit. He catches your eye, and this time, his smile is lighter, more peaceful. You return it, a silent acknowledgment of what you once shared—and what you’ve both become.

As you leave the gala, you carry the moment with you, a reminder that some connections endure even when paths diverge. Though you’ll never be together, the love you shared has shaped you both, leaving behind a legacy of strength, purpose, and bittersweet beauty.

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katharine1994-blog1 · 2 days ago

Text

Aaron Hotchner xBAUreader!

I Will Find You Part1

First time posting this kind of fanfic, super excited, would love feedback but please be kind haha! not totally sure of correct terminology so forgive for any mistakes.

Back story: You and Hotch have been very close/pining but nothing has ever happened despite all the team knowing and wanting you both together, when something goes wrong with a seemingly unconnected murder case and your stalker, Hotch is forced to confront his feelings about you and fight to keep you alive.

CW: age gap, pining, stalking, murder, kidnapping, physical abuse/assault, adult themes, sexual content. POV reader and POV Aaron Hotchner

The bullpen is eerily quiet, its a Friday 2am, the other agents have gone home or are out on field for other cases, your team is the only one in the office.

The team have been working tirelessly on a local murder case for a few weeks now and are no closer to catching this killer, 5 young women, all killed by asphyxiation, he's raped them before and again post mortem but leaving no physical evidence, then they are posed in the middle of the bed with a bouquet of dead flowers and dressed in a white dress, the rest of the scene is tidy and spotlessly clean, the local PD requested the BAU's support on Monday when they had the name of another missing girl, hoping she would be found alive, the press have started dubbing him the 'Black Groom' and started causing panic and chaos on the streets of DC, JJ has desperately tried to steer them away from using this name but to no avail, on Tuesday when the latest victim was discovered, Hotch, yourself and Morgan were first on the scene where discovered a new detail, a new part of the signature.

The first periluminal profile built was he's a white male in his 20s to 40s, he's a sexual sadist and has a deep routed hatred of women in his life, possibly started with his mother but most likely a girlfriend or wife are the stresser, perhaps a recent rejection or stressful situation where he feels a woman has emasculated him, despite his sadism he is methodical, calm even, keeps the girls for a few days before returning them home 'safely' tucked in bed or left in a motel room close by if there's too much police presence, none of the girls are linked, all single workaholic types with friends being the ones noticing them missing after a few days, usually these women keep to themselves so not hearing from them wasn't uncommon in most scenarios, no men in their lives not even online.

Garcia has combed through these girls lives and there's no link, all are on dating sites but with no common linked matches meaning he's likely following them for a few days before taking them in a spree attack using chloroform to subdue them, he continues using this drug during the following 3 days to keep them subdued and too weak to fight back.

The only factor about the girls which was painfully obvious is that they all looked just like you, no one had said it out loud which made it worse, you had been with Hotch when you saw the most recent victim and you'd become visibly distressed, Hotch tried to approach you but you had played it off as a bout of sickness, how could you tell him? The single perfect red rose left at the foot of the bed, the new signature, you see it in your minds eye, with the black satin ribbon tied round it, is it him?

You'd been working with the team for over a year now and grown close with them all, at first understandably they were weary of you but making some great calls on your first case and saving Morgan's life with an unsub had really propelled you forward in their estimations, you noticed the most change in Hotch, at first he seemed to not like you very much, he seemed to pay particular attention to you, at first you thought he was being over bearing because you were younger, but as it continued you realised he was protecting you, he would stand with you when out in the field and would often put you in his team, he would help you with your bullet vest and would always check on you after a rough case, he even sometimes drove you home, you thought it was him being a great boss until Morgan pointed out it might be more, deep down you tried to stifle your feelings for him but you felt yourself leaning towards him while he spoke, reaching for his arm and being equally as protective of him, maybe he did feel the same, but nothing could happen, how could they? He is your boss for a start, your stern, tall, strong boss! he's had a kid, Jack was such a great kid and since Hayley's death Hotch had really taken time for them both, stopped taking on everyone else's work and allowed the team to help, all of you helping him finish reports on time, even Will and JJ making play dates even though Henry was far too small to really appreciate a bigger kid to play with yet you all spent time together outside and at work, its not surprising you feel this way. Everything screamed for you to stop liking this man, but you cant help how you feel, and even if he didn't feel the same way, what harm is it doing? apart from that one night, the memory is burned on your memory.

"Alright lets go over this again, the ME said the ligature marks were made on top of each other with fibres found deep under the skin like friction burns, these fibres are commonly found in satin scarfs or something similar, there's no way to pin point exactly from what or where, the unsub is likely choking them until they fall unconscious, the ME also suggested by the wound pattern he's raping while they are unconscious" Hotch states stiffly rubbing the bridge of his nose "can we deduce anything with a geography profile Reid?"

"Not really, all these women live in different areas and are from different class backgrounds, so there's no safe zone he's choosing its very sporadic, I think he's choosing the girls rather than whether its easier or further from home. Their bodies at first seemed to never leave their own home with no evidence of a break in or struggle but the last people to see them said they were heading home, he might of picked them on the way in a spree attack, the latest victim we knew was missing which gave us an advantage slightly thinking he would bring her back home, but he's watching us too it seems, the motel was a few blocks away, he was in and out before anyone noticed she was there"

Reid says staring away from the map of the white board and turning to face the room, fiddling with the marker pen lid popping it on and off the pen, chewing his lip.

"Garcia, anything from those motel CCTV" Hotch didn't look up from his file as he spoke

"No sir nothing, the rooms were vacant with no security cameras on the grounds, seems like a cash on the door no questions asked kinda place, only ones I could find were located around the buildings and apart from supplier vans, cleaners, laundry services picking up, which I've checked there's nothing suspicious and all accounted for and have alibi's, its like he's a ghost" Garcia clicks the keys on the laptop in front of her joining the team in the main conference room as according to the current time frame, he has another girl and she's got less than 12 hours.

"Don't his actions scream remorseful to you guys? like he has to do this rather than wants to? he's not a rapist seeking dominance and to overpower his victims, not like your usual sadist, its the equivalent of turning their faces away during the act or asking how it was, his first kill could've been accidental, the scene seems more practice then perfect but caused him greater sexual release, leading him to want to do it again"

Emily interjects chewing the top of her pen leaning on her elbows on the table glancing down at the scene photos on the table.

Empty coffee cups and take-away containers scattered around the table, yours is untouched, you, Morgan and Hotch went to see the last victim Tuesday, he keeps them for 3-4 days, he's likely got a victim now but no ones been reported missing, he's 2 steps ahead and with this change in leaving the rose, his time line might of also changed, you sit staying into space chewing your nails

"Yet the Unsub is now killing them on purpose, you could argue it was an accident on the first victim but now he's got a taste for it, he's coming into his own sadism, he's likely a slim build, can't overpower women normally so the choking and drugging is a crutch, how he's leaving them yes you could say its an act of remorse, but what if its actually a taunt?"

Morgan points out to Emily, leaning back with his feet on the desk balancing on two chair legs

You shiver at the thought of it crossing your arms rubbing them as goosebumps appear all over, these girls suffered for hours before dying and he's only getting more confident, it makes the hair on your neck stand on end, but you've seen worse so why does this case matter you wonder? because its in your city, your home? or something else, the rose.

"He's spending hours with them, days even, I don't think the unsub is leaving them alone at all, the multiple rapes and choking is only a small part of it, see her hair has been washed and combed, she's got makeup on, it its well applied so maybe she's done it herself? but see her arms and legs, she's been beaten, and look this victim is the same, her abdomen is also bruised, victim one seems to of got the worst with him even leaving bruises on her face he's beating them, this show pure rage in-between all the calculated steps he takes" he pauses and takes a breath in before continuing "they are workaholic, single, strong women, same build, hair type and race, who would likely not give him a second glance, we need to figure out who his real target is, profile the victim then we might find him, and figure out if she was one of these women or if she's still out there" Rossi states, removing his glasses and stares at everyone before letting his eyes fall onto you, he lingers then returns to his file Infront of him.

You and Morgan look at each other knowingly from across the table, you try to avoid his piercing stare as your stomach starts turning when suddenly your eyes catch Hotch, he's been watching you for a while, even though you kept your eyes forward you knew he was watching you, you could feel it, his stern brow knitted together burning a hole into you, but when your eyes finally meet his eyes are all softness and concern, somethings off with you and he knows you are keeping something from him, you've been close in the past but for a few weeks you've been distant, since that night, keeping him at arms length and maybe been a little short with him, he keeps asking if you're ok, you cant worry him, not now, its better this way. there's a girls life on the line.

Morgan signals you to leave the room, you stand Hotch's eyes don't leave you as you try desperately to lose his gaze, if you could melt in to the wall you would

"excuse me" you say quietly and exit the room

"are you alright Y/N?" Hotch's stern voice low and calm freezes you into place.

"Yes, I just need some coffee" you lie with a full cup on the table, Hotch clocks the cup and his eyes burn into your head as you keep your back to him so he doesn't see the rising panic as you slink out the room, as you leave you hear Rossi whisper "come on Hotch she's clearly not OK, this unsub is hunting girls just like her, just give her a minute"

Morgan excuses himself and follows you, nodding at Hotch letting him know that he's on the case.

You stand in the small kitchen area your hands are shaking, you take some deep shaky breaths trying to steady them, you grab a glass and start filling it with water and take some slow small sips, barely being able to hold the glass, you it grasp with two hands, this cant be happening, it cant be him?

You had told Morgan a few months ago you'd been getting strange notes under your door at home, love notes along with a bouquet of red roses with a black ribbon nearly ever other day at work, at first you were flattered if not a little creeped out, Pen and Emily immediately started the 100 questions of who this guy was and how many dates we went on, but you played it off, after a while of sneaking them into the garbage you had told reception to stop bringing them through, as the attention was getting a bit much particularly from the team teasing about dating someone, and why they knew nothing about him, and he clearly likes me, this seems to really bother Hotch who you noticed would avoid the pit when you didn't get in early enough to remove them, but then they appeared at home instead, you had tried to play it off and believed they would eventually lose interest, Reid had mentioned how he got gifts from victims we saved when the projected feelings on to us so you supposed this was a likely explanation. But as time went on you thought best to ask for some advise, once Morgan knew he got Penelope to see if she could find who it was, nothing, this guy was a ghost, Morgan even came home with you a few times to check everything over and had a rather heated discussion with the building manager about letting people through the building who didn't live here, the letters became increasingly graphic about your 'relationship' but a few weeks ago everything stopped, that was until Monday morning on your way out the front door of your apartment a red rose with a black ribbon lay on the ground next to a note saying 'we will be together soon', you hadn't yet told Morgan about this new development and weren't sure when it would need to come up again, surely it was nothing.

when you saw the rose at the crime scene everything had gone dark in your mind, this was no coincidence, this was your stalker! Were these girls dying because of you?

Morgan rushes through ad grabbed your arm forcing you to look at him almost making you drop the glass

"you need to tell him sweetness, this unsub is after you" taking the glass from your hands and resting it on the counter top

"we don't know that for sure, and you know the moment I do I will be off this case, I am much more useful to you helping the team"

"come on Y/N, the rose, you saw it, he's not been active for a while, has he been in touch again?"

you look at the floor contemplating how you should tell him, Morgan sighs and takes your face in his hands forcing you to look at him

"when?"

"Monday morning"

He drops his hands and panic filling his eyes and takes a deep breath

"Y/N you should've told me!! don't you get it? you are in danger"

"why is Y/N in danger?" A deep rumble seems to come from Hotch's chest, you both freeze and hold your breath as you turn and both see Hotch standing looking straight at Morgan, shock and pain all over his face

"its nothing I-" you begin but Hotch raises his hand to quiet you

"I was asking Derek, so will you finally tell me what is going on?"

It felt like hours past but it must've been a few seconds, you pleaded with Morgan in your mind to not make this a big deal, once he knows, everything will change, you will be a victim to your team.

"She's being stalked, and I believe the stalker might be our unsub, I think she's who he's actually after"

The air seems to leave the room, it was true, you thought the same you just didn't want to believe it, you were the intended victim, you were the reason these girls, these beautiful young women with their whole lives ahead of them, were murdered, because you caught this sick bastards eye. Your eyes begin to brim with traitorous tears as you fight them back.

Hotch looks at you for a while his face moving from broken, to full of rage, to completely calm in a split second, was he mad at you? did he blame you too? At that moment his phone begins to ring in his pocket, he takes a breath and reached in his pocket and turns away from you and Morgan to answer, Morgan turns to you and wraps his arm around you mouthing 'am sorry baby girl' as he kisses your forehead, you feel the tears fall down your face and wipe them away quickly. Hotch turns back to you both still holding the phone to his ear

"they've found another victim, up town"

Part 2 to follow

#aaron hotchner #bau reader #aaron hotch x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #thriller #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #one shot #criminal minds

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calirph · 14 hours ago

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𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄/ 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒. all these sentences quotes are the key words of gothic horror romance, dark romances and enemies to lovers. it also includes scenarios that fit the thematic. please change names, locations and pronouns as you see fit.

Dark Romance & Gothic Horror Romance

“I dream of you in crimson and shadows, and I wake up gasping for air.”

“You should have run when you had the chance.”

“Kiss me now, or I’ll tear your world apart.”

“You haunt me, and I can’t tell if I love it or if it’s killing me.”

“There is no light where I come from. Only you.”

“I warned you, my love, that once you are mine, you can never leave.”

“You smell of death and roses.”

“A monster can love too, but never gently.”

“I feel your presence in every shadow, every whisper of the wind.”

“I would burn the world to keep you safe, but would you still want me after the flames die down?”

“Don’t fear the dark, darling. Fear what’s waiting in it.”

“You are the only thing that keeps me tethered to this cursed existence.”

“My love for you is a graveyard of broken oaths and bleeding hearts.”

“Your touch feels like a ghost against my skin.”

“Even if it damns me, I would choose you over salvation.”

“Do not mistake my devotion for kindness.”

“I carved your name into my soul long before you knew mine.”

“Your love will be the death of me. And I will die smiling.”

“Why do you keep coming back to me?” — “Because you call to me like a song of the damned.”

“We are bound by something older than time, darker than sin.”

“If I kissed you now, would you run, or would you stay and let me ruin you?”

“Let me show you what it means to be truly loved—terrifying, all-consuming, and eternal.”

“You think you know what I am? Then tell me… do I scare you?”

“I should let you go, but your suffering is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“If I must be a monster, then let me be yours.”

“You have no idea what it means to be loved by something unnatural.”

“There is no happily ever after for us. Only a beautiful, tragic ending.”

“Love me or fear me. Either way, you are mine.”

“You are poison and honey, and I would drink you down without hesitation.”

“Would you still love me if you knew what I’ve done?”

Enemies to Lovers

“You are insufferable.” — “And yet, here you are.”

“The worst thing is, I think I hate you because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Every time I look at you, I want to fight you… or kiss you. I’m not sure which.”

“You say you despise me, but your eyes tell a different story.”

“I could kill you right now.” — “Then why don’t you?”

“If you touch me again, I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

“I don’t know if I want to strangle you or pull you closer.”

“I promised myself I would never love you, and yet here I am.”

“Do you think of me when you lie awake at night?”

“You don’t have to like me. You just have to want me.”

“You don’t trust me.” — “Should I?” — “No.”

“You are my ruin, and I am yours.”

“I’d rather die than fall for you.” — “Funny, I was about to say the same.”*

“Tell me to stop, and I will. But we both know you won’t.”

“I hate you.” — “You keep saying that. Say it again, but this time, try to mean it.”

“You broke my heart first.”

“I should kill you for what you did.” — “Then do it. But if you hesitate, I’ll know you feel the same.”

“We are on opposite sides of this war, but my heart is on yours.”

“You are my enemy. You have no right to make my heart race.”

“I’d rather love you in secret than hate you in public.”

“If we weren’t enemies, could you have loved me?”

“You tried to kill me, and now you want to kiss me?”

“I will always fight against you, but I will never stop loving you.”

“We are fire and fire, bound to burn each other to ash.”

“You’re a monster.” — “And yet, you can’t stay away.”

“Do you know what it’s like to want something you should never have?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” — “Then stop me.”

“I hate that I love you.”

“The only reason I saved you was so I could kill you myself.”

“One of us will betray the other. We both know it. So why are we still here?”

Scenarios

A vampire falls for the very hunter sworn to destroy them.

A ghost lingers in a decaying mansion, drawn to the living intruder who dares to stay.

An assassin is sent to kill a powerful enemy but instead finds themselves unable to pull the trigger.

Two opposing generals meet in secret, their battlefield hatred clashing with their undeniable attraction.

A noble is cursed to love only the one who will be their downfall.

A human discovers their lover isn’t entirely human—and never was.

A prisoner and their captor grow dangerously close.

A warrior is haunted by a mysterious figure in their dreams, only to meet them in waking life.

A dark sorcerer offers an innocent soul a terrible bargain in exchange for love.

A beauty is trapped in a monster’s lair, and the monster is not as cruel as the world believes.

A rival thief and bounty hunter must work together to survive.

A masked stranger saves a doomed soul, but at a terrible cost.

Two heirs of warring kingdoms are forced into a deadly arranged marriage.

A widow finds solace in the arms of the man responsible for her husband’s death.

An executioner spares the life of their enemy for reasons they can’t explain.

A demon falls in love with the exorcist who was meant to destroy them.

A scientist falls for their own cursed creation.

A detective and a serial killer play a dangerous game of obsession.

A fallen angel and a mortal become entangled in forbidden love.

A werewolf fights against their instinct to claim their enemy as their mate.

A forbidden romance unfolds in a haunted asylum.

A fae bargains for love but is tricked into servitude.

An aristocrat falls for the masked vigilante fighting against their family.

A witch saves a wounded knight, only for him to realize she is the enemy.

A pirate and a naval officer share an undeniable connection despite their allegiances.

A woman is drawn to the reclusive lord rumored to be a monster.

A scholar studies forbidden texts and attracts the attention of something otherworldly.

A cursed artist paints their love into existence.

Two enemies must survive the night trapped in a cursed castle.

A creature of the night watches over their oblivious beloved.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #◟ ⋆ memes › roleplay sources.

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luvyurself · 13 hours ago

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family matter

a/n : inspired by this post from @cabbagethegoldfish because I just found it silly and cute ‼️

c/w : she/her pronouns used, polygamy(?), you are dating all the brothers cause I love them all teehee, ‼️ NO INC$ET ‼️ reader is said to have four brothers and a little sister, kind of projecting lolol, just fluff and silliness

the table was just as lively as ever, filled with random chatter and bickering of everyone’s day and what not.

she listened as mammon talked on and on to asmo across the table while subconsciously fiddling with beel’s fingers as he sat next to her.

the sixth born didn’t mind, he had no trouble stuffing his face with using only one hand. he would flex his fingers under hers from time to time.

she was also right next to lucifer, by his order (and not because he loved to have her physically next to him), as he also listened to what his brothers were talking about.

she stuck some food into her mouth, tuning in to what was being discussed.

“you know what can liven this place up-“ mammon began, sticking his fork into his food and pointing with it, “a pet.”

lucifer rose a hand up, “no. you can barely take care of yourself, mammon.” he ignored his younger brother sputtering at the insult, “and besides, we have cerbeus.”

“that thing is barley a pet!” asmo spoke, gripping his arms tightly, “we can’t even go down there without the risk of getting eaten alive!”

the oldest held back an eye roll, “and may I remind you of levi’s old pet?” levi flinched at the call back, looking up from his phone, “he-hey! don’t bring henry 1.0 into this!”

satan snorted a bit, a grin stretched on his lips. “don’t think I forgot about your hoarding problem, satan.”

green eyes snapped towards the end of the table, his grin gone as he scoffed, “I do not have a hoarding problem, lucifer.”

“I’ve woken up with more cat hair in my mouth in your room than anywhere.” belphie mumbled, eyes closed as he leaned on his palm.

satan rolled his eyes, grumbling something to himself as he stabbed his fork into his food.

she listened on for a little while more, before she cleared her throat. “my brothers actually had like….how much was it-four or five lizards.”

she pulled her hand away and began counting on her fingers, “actually we had a dog, four lizards, a tortoise, a bearded dragon, and oh- another dog.”

a hum escaped her lips, “I wonder how they’re doing.” she mumbled to herself, putting her hand down as she began to eat again.

it was only after a minute that the table grew quiet, her gaze moving upwards to find them all staring at her. she covered her mouth with one hand, a bit of food in her mouth as she swallowed, “….what?”

beel scooted a bit closer to her, “what did you say right now?” he spoke, stuffing his mouth with food afterwards.

“about the pets, oh, that I had like-“

“no no no, sweetheart-“ asmo grinned, cupping his hands together as he leaned onto the table, a grin on his face, “you said something about…brothers?”

her brows furrowed, nodding her head, “oh, yeah, I have brothers, a little sister too.” the avatar of lust gasped, a little squeal escaping his lips.

lucifer rose a brow, “you never mentioned anything about siblings.” she gave a awkward smile and a small shrug, “ah, well….it never got brought up.”

mammon leaned back into his chair, “really? you could had atleast told me, I mean, we’ve basically told each other everything!” he bit his lip in thought after a moment, “I mean, not everything, but you know-!”

satan propped his hand on his chin, “you mentioned brothers…how much do you have?” he asked, his tone a bit curious.

she tapped her finger on the table, feeling her smile grow a little wider, “four.”

levi sputtered a bit, finally giving his full attention, “fuh-four?! you had to deal with four brothers?!”

belphie grumbled a bit at the loud noise, though he seemed more awake than usual, “no wonder she can put up with us so easily.”

beel laughed a bit at that, turning to face his twin, “yeah, she has experience with brother stupidity.” he looked back at her again, “and you have a little sister?”

she nodded, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, “ye-yeah,” she cleared her throat, “I have five siblings, I’m the second oldest.”

mammon grinned at that, “I didn’t know you were a second born too! no wonder we are so good together.” he pressed a hand to his chest, “second oldest are obviously the best ones.”

his younger brothers all groaned at that, lucifer shifting to pick up his wine glass as a tiny grin spread across his lips, “so, you come from a big family, hm?”

and with that, a whole flurry of questions were unloaded on her. all coming from different sides of her.

“how did you deal with so much brothers?”

“do any of them like anime?”

“family dinners must be fulfilling to feed that much.”

“imagine taking trips with that much siblings! did you all fit in a car?”

she shrunk a bit in her chair, feeling her ears grow warmer as she tried her best to answer the questions.

lucifer watched with a grin all the while, seeing how much his brothers seemed so invested in her families life.

“you know,” he started off, making the table go silent as he took another sip of wine, “it’s only cordial to….meet your parents as well.”

she let out a awkward laugh, “ah-ah? meet-meet my parents?” she stuttered, not knowing if he was actually joking or not.

he nodded, “of course, it’s only natural if we meet our girlfriends parents and family, is it not?” his grin grew a bit more, his tone ever the more serious as it always is.

asmo clapped a that, squealing, “ohh, we just have to go!” he cupped his cheek as he dreamily sighed, “a trip to the human world to meet your family, and to think what they can show us about you,”

he began to list off the things out loud, “childhood stories, family history, baby pictures-“ he then cut himself off with a gasp, slamming his hands on the table as he let out a squeal once more, “baby pictures! oh I bet you were adorable!”

she blinked, “wha-what are you-“

“hey, parents love showing their kids partners baby photos.” mammon pointed out, getting excited too, “I bet if we asked, they would show us her whole photo album!”

levi giggled a bit, hiding his face with his hands as his voice came through, “ahhh! cute-cuteness overload!”

beel spoke with his mouth full, “we should start packing.” his voice was muffled a bit, but his brothers knew what he said.

before she could stop anyone, satan stood up, sly grin on his face, “I’m already on it.” he then turned and began walking out, the others following.

“no-no wait, guys-!”

“I’m keeping a picture for when we get back!” levi began, making asmo whine, “no fair! I want one too!”

mammon ran after them, “I call standing next to her when lucifer makes the portal!”

“we already called it.” beel spoke, walking passed him with belphie next to him, “snooze you lose, mammon,” the youngest spoke, yawing a bit as mammon groaned, “hey! I’m older, so I have more authority!”

soon enough, it was just her and lucifer at the table. she shot a look at him, who still had that stupid handsome grin on his face, “why didn’t you say anything?”

he hummed, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth with it, “who am I to crush their spirits?” he spoke, standing up from his chair and walking behind her.

“where are you going?” she asked, following him with her eyes as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“well, what else? going to inform diavolo of our….upcoming trip.” he rubbed the spot for a bit, before moving the hand to her hair and brushing through it and walking away, “better begin packing.”

she watched as he walked away, hearing his footsteps echo until it was finally quiet. she groaned and rested her head on the table, letting out a long sigh.

she should have just kept her mouth shut.

#x female reader #x reader #fluff #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me x female reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphagor x reader

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hollaforlyla · 14 hours ago

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"YE MAY BE IN LOVE..." ── prime!sonic x reader

posting this here because why not :p

NOTE: wrote this back in 2024, and i really like it, so im reposting it here. originally from my wattpad. <3

enjoy, if have not already read!

You kicked the tree that was on the one single island you and your crew members were able to invade and a single coconut fell from the leaves, landing near your foot. " ARGH ! I told yall we'd find some food on this pity island ! " You grinned as you lift the food and threw it in the air, catching it in the air with a toothy grin decorating your lips.

Suddenly a loud splash of water caused you and your three members to jump in fright and look towards the shore of the land to see some sort of blue figure emerge from the blue waters and on the land.

You all hid behind the large rocks to overhear him talking to himself, " Okay, stay calm. One minute, I was looking for Nine, then I saw that gnarly ship, and then, somehow... " he pauses as he looks around and questions, " Wait, where am i? "

He suddenly sat on the green grass and huffed, " How did i get... "

" Ah! wonder what these guys do. " He spoke looking at his shoes and gloves at the same time before Batten spoke aloud, " Ahoy there, stranger! What brings ye to the No Place? " She asked while you, and you, Black Rose, and Sails sat behind her while she hung from the single tree.

"Seriously? " the creature suddenly laughs causing you to raise an eyebrow. " Pirates? That's--that's super! Just great ! Of course your pirates ! " He laughs as he extends his arms out.

" I bet he's one of the old crew ! " Sails spoke and that's when you made yourself known.

" Do you have some sort of hate for us pirates, mate ? " You spoke, getting close up to the blue hedgehog causing him to bend back as you tower over him with the tip of your sword close to his throat.

The blue hedgehog gulped as he chuckles, " No-no ! Of course not ! Pi-pirates ar thy best ! " He spoke in the worst accent as he backed away from your sword far as possible and uses his finger to move the tip of your sword.

" What should we do ? " Rose spoke as you stood in between her and Sails. " I say, we pirate ! " Batten suddenly jumped beside Black Rose, causing her to jump as Batten raises her sword in the air and grins. " But the captain's not here ! " You spoke up, causing Batten's grin to disappear as she looked back at you three. " Yar be right ! " Rose added, " I don't think he'd approve of us, you know, 'pirating' ".

" What kind of pirates don't pirate ? " Sonic asked and you suddenly grinned after hearing that sentence escape from his lips. " Landlubber is right ! Yarr know how the saying goes ' Dead men tall no tales ! ' ". And once again, you along with your crew raised your swords to the unknown hedgehog, causing him to back away and try to talk with you in his once again pirate voice.

" Argh, Argh ! I don't mean to harm ye ! I'm just a wayward hedgehog looking for a way home ! "

None of you listened to the creature and when you all threw your swords down he was able to jump over you all and run around the island. He looked back to see Batten fly after him and when he looked forward he skidded to a stop before he could hit the water.

No matter where the hedgehog went, you and your crew were always one step ahead of him because this island was so small he didn't have much space to run around. " Boy, it sure feels good to a pirate, don't it ? " Black Rose asked and grinned, squatting beside her as you were somehow able to pin the hedgehog to the edge of the large rock. " Aye ! Brings me back to the good ol' days, Black Rose ! "

You and the blue hedgehog were able to make eye contact for a longer period of time and this time he had a blush on his face. Back in your old world, Sonic had some sort of crush on you, so to speak. But being the Hero of Mobius he didn't have much time to worry about all the lovey-dovey stuff because of a so-called Egghead.

Whenever you got close to the Blue Blur he would panic and hide it with his heroic charm and runoff. He had no clue if you liked him back, but he knew for sure this version of you didn't, 100%.

Black Rose was able to trip the creature as he ran past her, and let out a scream as he was about to collide with the water, but suddenly he felt Sail's robotic arm catch him and lift him into the air and keep him there as he stared at Batten, Black Rose, and ..... Y/N.

" Well, wouldn't you know. I'm caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. " He spoke and Batten and Black Rose shared a puzzled glance with each other before Sails spoke up, " You know, he's too fast to be part of the old crew. "

" Listen, I am not a part of any crew you're looking for. In fact, I've lost my crew. It's a bit of a sore spot actually. " He admitted and Batten only smirked as she raised the tip of her sword to his throat once again. " I'll give you a sore spot, all right ! " Before she could do anything else, you step in front of her and pushed her back. " All right, all right. Enough of that Batten. Not everything needs to be beaten to a pulp....even if they are among our seas... "

The blue hedgehog and you made eye contact, but this time you glared at him as you placed your sword back around your waist in your belt whilst Sonic blushed...trying to keep his composure. " Gather the coconuts. The captain would want us to get back to the ship with something other than a filthy landlubber. "

" Arr, Y/N. " Black Rose agreed, " Leave this scalawag for the bazzards. " Batten only sighed as she watched you and Black Rose collect the coconuts, " Well, it was fun while it lasted. " And with that, Sails tossed the hedgehog back on the land as he faceplanted and followed his crew to collect coconuts.

" Wait, you're leaving ? " He questioned as he watched your four work, " Uh, you can't leave me here ! " He cried. " And why is that ? " You asked, leaning against the tree trunk and kicking it once more to gather the coconut from its leaves. " There's literally water everywhere ! "

You rolled your eyes and followed your crew to a small boat as you tossed the coconuts in there. " Uh, where're you going ? " He asked, " Somewhere with a lot of land, hopefully. "

" Back to our ship, and we don't take scalawags. " Batten responded, tired of the blue hedgehog's whining. " You know, with all that speed, this landlubber could be useful. " Sails explained as he circled around the creature using his tails to hover around. " Swabbing the deck, raising this mizzen mast, rowing the boat. "

Batten sighs, " I hate rowing the boat. " " Gives me bad cramps for days, " You added and Black Rose nods. " I'll row ! I'm a great rower ! Heh, I'll bet you 20 coconuts I'm the best rower you've ever seen ! " the creature grins as he nudges Sail's side before jumping down to the three others.

" FIne, I, too, hate rowing. But, there is one condition when we get back to the ship. It's captain's orders or else ! " Black Rose spoke as she turned, but suddenly Sonic zoomed in front of her and chuckled, " Or else? The plank ? I can assure you that this hedgehog has no interest in planks. " The creature spoke and you suddenly spoke up,

" Then prove to us you can take orders from a captain, or the plank is what you'll get ! Savvy ? " You placed a hand on your hip as he winked at you. " Captain's orders got it !...I love captains... " You roll your eyes as you pushed him to the side by placing a hand to his face and got into the small boat.

Once everyone was seated in the boat, Sonic grinned as he sat in his said spot. " Everybody got seat belts on? " You all blinked in silence and you stared at the hedgehog. " Seatbelts ?-- "

All of a sudden you felt yourself grab Batten's arm as the boat zoomed through the water faster than you've ever seen a bird soar above the ship's sails. You all let out a scream before you made it back to the ship, and your grip on Batten fell loose and you felt yourself fall a top of the blue hedgehog. Your arms were extended outwards and pinned on the sides of his stomach and your face was buried in his chest.

A blush formed on Sonic's face as you sat up as the boat was lifted onto the actual ship and you looked back up to see the hedgehog was gone and by the other side of the boat, covering his face to hide the blush.

You on the other hand felt your stomach twist in different directions until Batten tossed an arm around your shoulder, " Aye ! Looks like little Y/N caught herself a lucky one ! " You only nudged her arm and pushed her off of you, crossing your arms as you spoke. " Blimey ! 'Il crush ye barnacles if you think I would have some sort of feelings towards a stinkin' landlubber ! "

As Batten rose her arms in the air with a snarky smile, you looked back at the hedgehog and blushed before splashing some water on your face from one of the barrels and entered inside the ship and towards your room where you sat for a while until the captain was introduced to the blue hedgehog.

🏴‍☠💙🏴‍☠

The sound of the seagulls cawing awoke you from your slumber and as you entered the deck of the ship you saw your captain and other crew members sound asleep. You looked around for the blue hedgehog but you couldn't find him anywhere on the ship until you suddenly felt two hands grab onto your shoulders, " BOO-AH ! " You turned around and were able to tackle the intruder to the ground by the poop deck, but as the tip of your sword hits the neck of the person you let out a puff of air when you noticed the intruder was no one but that Sonic fellow.

" Sneak attacking a pirate can be a bad idea mate, especially if you're trying to befriend said pirate... " Your feet were planted to the floor as your back was leaned forward as the hedgehog's back was pinned to the ground, his quills squishing between his face as he lets out a half-heart chuckle. " I never knew pirates could be sneak-attacked? You're not like all of them, are you ? :"

" Your one to talk, hedgehog. Your fake pirate accent couldn't threaten a baby sea horse ! "

Sonic's belly laughter soon escaped from his lips and you cocked an eye up. " Yhou make uhup the strangest pahrases i've ehever hehard ! " You growled softly under your breath and moved your sword away from his neck and stepped off him so he could stand. You placed your sword back around your waist and walked towards the portside and stared at the water. Sonic slowly walked beside you and placed one elbow on the ledge and the other arm was placed on his hip.

" So you have no idea who I am ? " Sonic suddenly asked and you looked over to him playing with the small locket on your neck, " Well, I know you are very easy to tackle, you are very fast, and you have a very strange laugh... " You explained and Sonic chuckled,

" You somehow still remind me of my Y/N .. "

" Your Y/N ... ? "

" Oh, N-nevermind .... Have you, uh, got any sleep? You look overworked and tired. " He asked and you smiled, " I could be asking you the same thing, you look like you haven't slept in weeks. " You flicked his nose causing him to grab it and laugh, " I got my fair share...your the one who looks like they need some shut-eye... " Your smile died down and you had to admit you were tired. " A pirate's work is never done...stayed up all night cleaning the poop deck and made sure the captain's cabin was cleaned from sea bugs and other sea creatures. Got 'round 3-maybe 5 hours of shut-eye? " You guessed and Sonic looked to the water and thought for a moment.

Looking at the sun he could tell it was around maybe, 7 AM, and the rest of the crew was still asleep, so Sonic grabbed the sword from your waist and stabbed it to the pole of the sails. " Hey ! What do you think your-- " Before you could say anything, the blue hedgehog swung his legs into your ankles causing you to fall back but he caught you and placed you to the wooden floor of the deck and he laid beside you, his hands wrapped behind his head.

He sighs as he closed his eyes but you were still confused. " I- what are you doin- " He hushed you but slammed his hand over yours gently and you glared at him, about to bite his hand until he removed it and spoke, " It's still early in the morning...thank me later when you get at least 7 hours of sleep. "

And with that, he closed his eyes once more and you turned your body to face him and stayed like that waiting to see if he'll do anything...but he didn't. He just laid there with eyes shut, his chest moving up and down lightly. You looked around to see the rest of your crew sound asleep and you huffed quietly.

Eventually, you shut your eyes and around 10 minutes later you found yourself asleep, the waves hitting the bottom of the ship rocked it, giving the atmosphere a more calmer sound.

When morning hit, Sonic was the first to wake up and he found you sound asleep beside him, your mouth gaped open to create a small circle and he smiled fondly at the sight until he stood up......

#sonic #sonic prime #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic series #sonic fandom #x reader #sth #sth fandom #fluff #reader insert #gn reader #female reader #my writing

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lightdancingwords · 2 days ago

Text

Second Chances - Part Twelve of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock. Word Count: 4,586 Tags/Warnings: murder, murder/death/kill, so much angst, police work, affair A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Phew! All of you are definitely reacting to Rachel! I hope you like the twist here! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Second Chances: Chapter Twelve

The call came just before dawn. Another body. Another life stolen. Beau stood in the middle of the crime scene, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stared at the lifeless form on the floor. The victim was a young man this time, barely in his twenties, lying face-up in the living room of his modest apartment. There were no signs of a struggle, no forced entry—just like the others.

The killer had struck again.

Around him, officers moved carefully, snapping photos and gathering evidence, their faces tight with exhaustion and frustration. Jenny stood nearby, her arms crossed as she watched Beau with growing concern. He hadn’t said much since arriving—just barked a few orders before falling into a grim silence.

Beau’s green eyes were like steel, cold and unyielding as he finally turned to Rachel, who was standing by the window, studying the scene. “It’s the same,” he said, his voice low but steady. “No pattern, no reason. Just a goddamn ghost leaving bodies in his wake.”

Rachel looked at him, her auburn hair catching the faint morning light. “He’s escalating,” she said quietly. “It’s not about the victims—it’s about control. About making sure we know he’s in charge.”

“Well, not anymore,” Beau muttered, his jaw tightening. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number with sharp, deliberate movements.

Jenny stepped forward, alarmed. “Beau, what are you doing?”

He glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. “Callin’ the press.”

“The press?” Jenny’s voice rose slightly. “Beau, that’s not a good idea. This guy thrives on attention—giving him more could make things worse.”

“I’m done sittin’ back and waitin’,” Beau snapped, his voice cutting through the room. “If he wants attention, I’ll give it to him. But on my terms.”

Later that afternoon, the press conference was set up outside the sheriff’s department. Reporters from every local and regional news outlet had gathered, their cameras aimed squarely at the podium. The air was thick with tension as Beau stepped up to the microphone, his hat in one hand and his notes in the other.

Rachel stood off to the side, her arms crossed as she watched him carefully. Jenny stood next to her, her expression a mix of concern and disbelief.

Beau set his hat on the podium, his green eyes scanning the crowd before he leaned into the microphone. His voice was calm, measured, but there was an edge of steel that carried through every word.

“To the people of Big Sky: I know you’re scared. And you have every right to be. This killer has taken too many lives, and every one of them matters. Every victim had a name, a family, a future that was stolen from them. And I won’t stand for it.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping the crowd, ensuring his words hit home. “To the person responsible: I know you’re watchin’ this. I know you’re sittin’ somewhere, feeling’ proud of yourself, thinkin’ you’ve outsmarted us. But let me tell you somethin’—you’re not invincible. You’re not untouchable. You’re a coward who hides in the shadows, preyin’ on innocent people. And I’m comin’ for you.”

The reporters murmured amongst themselves, the tension in the air palpable. Beau straightened, his jaw set as he continued. “You think you’ve won because we haven’t caught you yet? That’s fine. Keep thinkin’ that. Because every step you take, every move you make, we’re closin’ in. You’ve made mistakes, and I promise you—we’ll find them. We’ll find you.”

He leaned closer to the microphone, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. “You’ve had your time. Now it’s mine. Turn yourself in, or I’ll make sure you have nowhere left to hide.”

The crowd erupted with questions, reporters shouting over each other in a frenzy. But Beau ignored them, stepping back from the podium and grabbing his hat. Rachel and Jenny quickly followed as he walked back into the station, his expression unreadable.

Inside, Jenny grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “What the hell was that, Beau? You just challenged a serial killer on live TV. Do you know what kind of mess this could create?”

“I know exactly what kind of mess we’re in, Jenny,” Beau snapped, his voice still calm but laced with cold fury. “And I’m not playin’ his game anymore. He’s playing mine.”

Rachel stepped in, her voice softer but no less firm. “You realize you just gave him what he wants—attention. This could escalate things.”

Beau turned to her, his green eyes sharp. “Good. Let him escalate. Let him make mistakes. Because I’m done lettin’ him control this town.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Beau’s words settling over them like a heavy fog. Rachel studied him for a moment before nodding. “Let’s hope you’re right, Sheriff. Because if you’re not, this could get a whole lot worse.”

Beau’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked toward his office, his fists clenched at his sides. He was tired of waiting, tired of reacting. It was time to take control—and if that meant drawing the killer out into the open, then so be it.

The sheriff’s department was quieter than usual after Beau’s press conference, but the tension was heavier. Deputies moved around carefully, almost as if the walls themselves could collapse under the weight of the gamble their sheriff had just made. Rachel sat in the conference room, sifting through files, her auburn hair pulled back into a messy bun. Jenny sat across from her, arms crossed, glaring into her coffee cup.

“You think he made the right call?” Jenny asked, finally breaking the silence.

Rachel glanced up, her expression unreadable. “It’s a bold move, and bold moves can go either way.”

“That’s not an answer,” Jenny said, her voice edged with frustration. “He just gave that bastard exactly what he wanted. What if it backfires?”

Rachel leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she regarded Jenny. “It could. But it could also force the killer to make a mistake. People like him—they thrive on control. Beau’s just taken some of that away.”

Jenny frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she looked toward the hallway leading to Beau’s office. “He’s hanging by a thread, you know. This case—it’s pulling him apart.”

Rachel’s gaze softened slightly. “I’ve noticed.”

“And yet you’re right there with him,” Jenny said pointedly. “Closer than you need to be.”

Rachel held her gaze, her voice calm but firm. “We’re working a case that has this entire town on edge. If that means being close to the sheriff, so be it.”

Jenny’s jaw tightened, but before she could reply, the phone on the wall rang sharply, cutting through the tense atmosphere. Both women froze for a moment before Jenny moved to answer it.

“Sheriff’s department,” she said briskly. Her expression darkened almost immediately. “What?”

Rachel stood, already sensing the shift. “What is it?”

Jenny hung up the phone, her face pale. “Another call. Another body.”

Beau stood on the edge of the latest crime scene, his hat pulled low as he stared down at the lifeless body of a young woman sprawled in the middle of her living room. The now-familiar signs were all there—no forced entry, no struggle, no discernible reason. Just another life stolen.

Rachel stepped up beside him, her voice low. “It’s like he’s taunting you. Hitting back after your challenge.”

Beau didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tight as he took in the scene. “You think this is retaliation?”

“I think it’s a message,” Rachel said, her brown eyes scanning the room. “He wants to remind you who’s in control.”

Beau let out a slow breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Not for long.”

As the forensic techs worked around them, Rachel stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his. “This was a risk, Beau. You knew that when you made that call.”

“I did,” he said, his voice steady. “And I’d do it again.”

She studied him for a moment, her gaze searching. “This is personal for you, isn’t it?”

He turned to look at her, his green eyes hard but full of conviction. “Every case is personal. These are my people, Rachel. I’m not just a sheriff—I’m their neighbor, their friend. I know what it’s like to lose someone and feel like there’s no justice. I won’t let that happen here.”

Her expression softened, and she reached out, her hand briefly brushing his arm. “We’ll get him, Beau. I promise.”

The moment lingered longer than it should have, the air between them charged. Beau felt the familiar pull, the tension he’d been trying to ignore since she’d arrived. He stepped back slightly, breaking the moment.

“We need to find somethin’ here,” he said gruffly, turning his attention back to the scene. “Anything. There’s gotta be somethin’ he’s leavin’ behind.”

Rachel nodded, stepping back as well, her professional demeanor sliding firmly into place. “We’ll comb through everything.”

Hours later, Beau returned to the station, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The latest murder weighed on him more than the others—it felt like a direct slap in the face. His gamble with the press conference hadn’t worked. If anything, it had emboldened the killer.

As he sat at his desk, the silence of his office was broken by a knock. Rachel stepped in, her expression a mix of determination and concern. She closed the door behind her, holding a stack of papers.

“We’ve got something,” she said, setting the papers on his desk.

Beau straightened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “What is it?”

“A pattern,” Rachel said, pointing to the papers. “It’s faint, but it’s there. The locations of the murders—they all fall within a specific radius. Almost like he’s circling something.”

Beau leaned over the papers, his eyes narrowing. “What’s in the center of the circle?”

Rachel hesitated before answering. “Nothing obvious. But we’re digging into the area now.”

Beau nodded, his jaw tightening. “Good. Let’s see where this leads.”

As Rachel turned to leave, she paused, glancing back at him. “Get some rest, Beau. You’re no good to anyone if you burn out.”

“I’ll rest when this is over,” he replied, his voice firm.

Rachel didn’t push, simply nodding before stepping out of the office. Beau sat back in his chair, staring at the papers spread out before him. The flicker of hope Rachel had brought was faint, but it was enough to keep him going. And as he stared at the center of the circle on the map, he silently vowed that this time, he wouldn’t let the killer slip through his fingers.

The sheriff’s department was quiet, the clock on the wall ticking softly in the background. Papers and files were spread across the table in the conference room, the culmination of weeks of dead ends and frustration. Beau sat at the edge of the table, leaning over a map, his green eyes scanning the marked locations for what felt like the thousandth time.

Rachel was across from him, her auburn hair loosely tied back, her brown eyes focused as she pored over a stack of property records. The tension in the room was palpable—both from the case and something unspoken that had been building between them for weeks.

“Beau,” Rachel said suddenly, her voice breaking the heavy silence. She straightened, holding up a sheet of paper. “I’ve got something.”

Beau looked up sharply, his exhaustion momentarily replaced by sharp focus. “What is it?”

Rachel moved around the table, standing next to him as she spread the paper on top of the map. Her finger traced the lines of the radius they’d identified weeks ago. “I went back through the property records. There’s one location that ties it all together—this house, right here.” She pointed to the center of the radius.

“What about it?” Beau asked, leaning in closer.

“It used to belong to Ia Hanlon, but when he died, it was abandoned. His son, Victor Hanlon, was institutionalized as a teenager for violent behavior. He was released five years ago—right around the time these killings started.”

Beau’s jaw tightened as he processed the information. “You think he’s been livin’ there?”

“It fits,” Rachel said. “It’s secluded, off the main roads, easy to access without drawing attention. It’s the perfect hiding spot.”

Beau stared at the map, the weight of weeks of frustration lifting just slightly. For the first time, they had something concrete. He turned to Rachel, his green eyes locking onto her. “Rachel, this could be it. This could be what breaks the case.”

She smiled faintly, her brown eyes lighting up with the same spark of hope. “We need to move fast. If he’s there—”

“We’ve got him,” Beau finished, his voice firm.

For a moment, the intensity of the moment hung between them. Beau stepped closer, his gratitude and relief written plainly on his face. “You don’t know what this means,” he said softly, his voice low. “After all this time…”

Rachel looked up at him, her expression softening. “I told you we’d find him, Beau.”

The space between them disappeared, and for a fleeting moment, Beau felt himself leaning in, his hand brushing against hers on the edge of the table. Her breath hitched, and her gaze flickered to his lips. The pull between them was undeniable, electric.

But just as he moved closer, the image of Y/N and Eliza flashed in his mind. He froze, reality crashing down around him. Jaw tightening, he stepped back abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t do this.”

Rachel blinked, her expression flickering with a mix of understanding and disappointment. She nodded, stepping back as well. “Let’s just focus on catching him.”

Beau exhaled, nodding sharply. “Jenny’s on call. Let’s move.”

The convoy of patrol cars sped toward the Hanlon property, the cool night air whipping past as Beau gripped the wheel tightly. Rachel sat in the passenger seat, the tension between them unspoken but heavy. Neither said a word, their focus squarely on the task ahead.

The property came into view—a dilapidated house shrouded in darkness, overgrown trees and weeds framing it like a grim portrait. Beau pulled the truck to a stop, his green eyes scanning the area. “Surround the house,” he ordered into his radio. “We take this slow.”

Deputies spread out, their flashlights slicing through the dark. Beau and Rachel moved toward the front door, their movements quiet but deliberate. Just as Beau reached the porch, a rustling sound came from the side of the house.

He froze, his hand moving to his weapon. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

Rachel nodded, her flashlight sweeping the area. The sound grew louder—footsteps, quick and frantic, coming from the side yard.

“Hanlon!” Beau shouted, breaking into a sprint as a figure burst from the shadows, darting toward the woods. The man’s silhouette was sharp against the faint moonlight, his movements panicked but fast.

“Stop!” Beau yelled, his voice cutting through the night. Deputies fanned out, their flashlights converging on the fleeing figure, but Hanlon was too fast, his path erratic as he disappeared into the thick trees.

“Damn it!” Beau growled, his fists clenching as he stopped at the edge of the woods. He turned to the deputies. “Fan out! Don’t let him get too far!”

Rachel caught up, her breath coming in quick bursts. “He’s running scared,” she said. “That’s something.”

Beau shook his head, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “Not enough. We had him, Rachel. We had him.”

Rachel placed a hand on his arm, her touch grounding him. “We’ll get him,” she said firmly. “He can’t run forever.”

Beau exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he stared into the dark forest. “Tear this place apart,” he said, his voice cold. “Every inch. He’s left somethin’ behind, and we’re going to find it.”

And as the deputies moved to search the property, Beau stood at the edge of the woods, his mind racing. He’d been close—so close—and he wouldn’t stop until Victor Hanlon was behind bars.

The exhaustion hit Beau like a freight train the next morning. His body ached with fatigue, his green eyes bloodshot as he stared at the murder board in the conference room. The familiar faces of the victims stared back at him, each one a painful reminder of how far they were from catching Victor Hanlon. His coffee sat untouched, going cold on the desk as the minutes dragged on.

Jenny stepped into the room, her boots clicking softly against the floor. She folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe as she watched him with a mix of concern and frustration. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, Beau.”

“I haven’t,” he replied flatly, not looking up.

Jenny sighed, stepping closer. “You need to take a break. You’re running yourself into the ground, and it’s not helping anyone.”

“I can’t,” Beau said, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Not when he’s still out there.”

“Beau,” Jenny said, her tone softening, “you’re not doing anyone any good like this. Take a couple of hours. Recharge.”

Rachel entered the room then, carrying a stack of reports. Her brown eyes flicked between Jenny and Beau, sensing the tension immediately. “Jenny’s right,” she said, setting the papers down on the table. “You’ve been at this nonstop. You need to clear your head.”

Beau shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I don’t have time to—”

“Then make time,” Rachel interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “There’s a pub down the road. Come with me. Get out of here for a little while.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but she didn’t say anything. Beau hesitated, the tension in his shoulders visible. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he stood, grabbing his hat from the chair. “Fine. One drink. Then we’re back here.”

The pub was quiet, its dim lighting and rustic charm offering a stark contrast to the chaos of the department. Beau and Rachel found a booth in the corner, away from the other patrons. The jukebox hummed softly in the background, and the low murmur of conversation filled the space.

Beau wasted no time ordering a beer, draining half of it before Rachel had even taken a sip of hers. He leaned back in the booth, his green eyes heavy with exhaustion as he stared at the table.

“You’re carrying too much,” Rachel said softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You’ve been doing this for weeks, Beau. You can’t do it alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Beau muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve got the team. I’ve got Y/N…”

Rachel tilted her head, her auburn hair falling over one shoulder. “When was the last time you saw her? Really saw her?”

The question hit him harder than he expected, and he looked away, guilt flickering across his face. “This case doesn’t leave room for anything else.”

“And that’s not sustainable,” Rachel said gently. “You’re going to burn out, Beau. Let someone else carry some of the weight.”

Beau didn’t respond immediately, instead finishing his beer and signaling for another. By the time he started his third, his posture had relaxed slightly, the alcohol taking the edge off his frayed nerves. He wasn’t drunk, but the weight on his shoulders felt just a little lighter.

“This is the first time I’ve felt… normal in weeks,” he admitted, his voice low.

Rachel smiled faintly, her brown eyes warm. “Sometimes you need to let go, even if it’s just for a moment.”

The air between them shifted, the noise of the pub fading into the background. Rachel leaned forward slightly, her voice soft. “You don’t have to carry it all, Beau. You deserve someone who—”

Before she could finish, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was brief, tentative, but there was no mistaking her intent.

Beau froze, his green eyes widening as his mind caught up with what was happening. He didn’t move, didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he pulled back, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze.

“Rachel,” he said firmly, his voice steady but strained. “No.”

She blinked, her expression a mix of surprise and disappointment. “Beau, I—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “I will never cheat on Y/N. No matter how hard things get, no matter what’s going on—I won’t do it.”

Rachel sat back, her cheeks flushing as she looked away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Beau exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best we call it a night,” he said, his tone clipped. He tossed a few bills onto the table and stood, grabbing his hat. “I’ll see you back at the station.”

Rachel didn’t stop him as he walked out, the sound of the door swinging shut echoing in the quiet pub. She stayed in the booth, staring at her drink, the weight of her actions settling heavily on her shoulders.

As Beau walked back to his truck, the cool night air hit him like a slap in the face, clearing his mind. He felt a surge of anger—not just at Rachel, but at himself for letting things get so close to the line. He thought of Y/N, her quiet strength, her unwavering support, and the life they were building together.

He climbed into the truck, gripping the wheel tightly as he started the engine. Whatever exhaustion he felt before was replaced by a renewed determination. Y/N was his home, his anchor, and nothing—not the stress of the case, not the chaos of the department, and certainly not Rachel—would come between them.

And as he drove back to the station, the lights of Big Sky passing in a blur, he silently vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let anything jeopardize the family waiting for him.

The drive home was quiet, the hum of Beau’s truck engine the only sound as he navigated the familiar streets. The tension from earlier still lingered in his chest, but his mind was focused now—on Y/N, on Eliza, on the home that had become his sanctuary amid the chaos. He’d been away from them for too long, and tonight, he was determined to make things right.

As he turned onto his street, something prickled at the back of his neck—a vague unease that he couldn’t quite place. When the house came into view, his stomach sank. The porch light was off, and the front door was slightly ajar, the wood splintered near the lock.

Beau slammed the truck into park, his heart pounding as adrenaline surged through his veins. His hand instinctively went to his holstered weapon as he stepped out of the vehicle. Every instinct he had screamed that something was wrong.

He pulled out his phone, his voice low and urgent as he called the department. “This is Sheriff Arlen. I need units dispatched to my residence immediately. Possible break-in, potential hostages. Approach with caution.”

“Copy that, Sheriff,” came Jenny’s voice, sharp and steady. “We’re on our way.”

Beau hung up, his grip tightening on his gun as he approached the house. The slight creak of the door as he pushed it open made his stomach twist. The living room was dimly lit, the air heavy with an unnatural stillness. Then he heard it—a soft, terrified sob coming from the kitchen followed by Eliza’s frightened wails.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his heart hammering in his chest.

He moved carefully, his boots silent against the floor. As he rounded the corner, the sight before him stopped him cold.

Y/N was sitting in a chair, her hands bound behind her back, her face pale but defiant. Behind her stood a man—Victor Hanlon. His wild eyes darted toward Beau, a knife pressed firmly against Y/N’s neck. Eliza wailed from the playpen in the corner, her cries sharp and frantic.

“Don’t move!” Victor barked, his voice shaking but filled with dangerous desperation. “I swear, I’ll do it!”

Beau’s green eyes locked onto Y/N’s, his breath catching at the fear and resolve he saw there. “Victor,” he said calmly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “You don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t know what I want!” Victor shouted, his grip tightening on the knife. “You think you can just come after me, ruin my life? You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

“I know you’ve been running’,” Beau said, his tone measured. He took a slow step forward, his hands raised slightly. “I know you’re scared, but this isn’t the way, Victor. Let her go. Let the baby go.”

Victor’s eyes flicked to Eliza, her cries growing louder with every passing second. “Shut her up!” he screamed, his voice cracking.

Beau’s heart twisted, but he kept his focus on Victor. “She’s just a baby, Victor. She doesn’t understand. Let her mother go, and we can talk. Just you and me.”

Y/N’s voice broke through, soft but firm. “Beau,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. “Don’t.”

He shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving Victor. “I’m not lettin’ this happen, Y/N.”

Victor laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “You think you can talk me down, Sheriff? You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything!”

“You’re right,” Beau said, his voice low. “I don’t know what you’ve been through. But this? This isn’t the way to fix it. You’re makin’ it worse for yourself.”

Victor’s hand wavered for a moment, the knife loosening slightly from Y/N’s neck. Beau saw the opening, his grip tightening on his gun.

“Victor,” Beau said, his tone soft but firm. “Let her go. Ya don’t want this on your conscience.”

For a moment, it seemed like Victor might relent. His shoulders sagged slightly, his gaze darting between Beau and Y/N. But then his eyes hardened again, his desperation flaring.

“I’m not going back to prison!” Victor screamed, his grip on Y/N tightening.

In that instant, Eliza let out a piercing scream, her tiny hands clutching the sides of the playpen. The sound broke the tension like a gunshot, and Victor flinched, his attention snapping toward the baby.

It was all Beau needed.

He moved with lightning speed, his gun aimed and steady. “Drop it, Victor!” he shouted, his voice like thunder.

The kitchen erupted in chaos as Victor hesitated, torn between his rage and his fear. Beau’s green eyes blazed with determination, his focus razor-sharp. “Let her go, or I swear, I’ll drop you where you stand.”

Victor’s hand trembled, the knife wavering dangerously close to Y/N’s neck. Seconds stretched into eternity before Victor snarled, shoving Y/N forward and bolting for the back door.

Beau rushed forward, catching Y/N before she fell, his arms steady around her. “You okay?” he asked, his voice tight with emotion.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. “Eliza—”

“I’ve got her,” Beau said, releasing Y/N and running to the playpen. He scooped Eliza into his arms, her cries quieting slightly as he held her close.

The sound of sirens grew louder in the distance, and Beau turned to Y/N, his voice resolute. “Stay here. Deputies are on their way.”

“No, Beau!” Y/N cried, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave us.”

He hesitated, his heart torn, but the sound of the back door slamming snapped him back into focus. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

And with that, he handed Eliza to Y/N, kissed her forehead, and ran out the door, his gun drawn, ready to finish what had begun.

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