#the buried harbor

[julianpeterscomics]

"Il porto sepolto" di Giuseppe Ungaretti

My graphic interpretation of the 1916 poem “Il porto sepolto” (“The Buried Port”) by the great Italian poet Giuseppe Ungaretti (1888-1970). This comic originally appeared in the third issue of “Junior Poetry Magazine,” an Italian magazine of poetry for young people. La mia “fumettizzazione” della poesia “Il porto sepolto” (1916) di Giuseppe Ungaretti. Questo fumetto è stato pubblicato per la…

[0vergrowngraveyard]

I feel like that since Tails was raised by Sonic, he'd downplay his own trauma out of instinct. So much that it concerns everyone but Sonic, who doesn't notice that well since it's the same attitude and wordplay he uses. Ex: "People used to try to cut off my tails all the time, just made me fast enough to keep up with Sonic haha!" Like no baby that's badddd.

i’ve always seen tails as someone who just doesn’t even want to think about his past. he doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. it’s behind him and he has a brand new life now. a better life

i think he’d only downplay it to a) get people to worry about him less and b) to get out of talking about it.

to me, that’s partially why he drowns himself in project after project. he does love tinkering, but it also keeps his mind busy (especially after the war when he’s had six whole months to do nothing but think)

idk tho that’s just me. i think maybe he made nonchalant comments when he was younger (ex: “i learned to swim when i was pushed into a river”) but as he gets older, it starts to weigh on him more and more so he’d just rather think about anything else

[stargirl-and-potts]

Gemma was so soft and bright and warm and full of life in all the photos of her, but Miss Casey’s half-frozen. Her expression barely changes. It’s not the hapless earnestness of the other innies. Her eyes are shadowed always. Is because she works alone, never with friends? She can only ever sit with a stranger, reading a list, which must not evoke too strong an emotion. Or is it because of what happens when she’s buried down in Testing?

What are they Testing on her?

[akiradachi]

digging through far harbor voice files in LVF for reasons and apparently bethesda left in placeholder files??

only reason i found this is because they used some preexisting base game characters voicetypes to host these files. like you just look in the voice types tab and fucking pickman is there

all of these are TTS, most likely for playtesting before they implemented the final voice acting

even weirder is that the lines arent specific to one character? like some of these seem to be player dialogue. and others seem to be NPC dialogue meant to be said to the player. like youd think theyd at least keep it consistent so theyd know what goes where but i guess not??

Wild

[harveyspictures]

Tombstones in the Old Burying Ground, Sag Harbor, NY. July 18, 2023

[princessbellecerise]

Court Shenanigans

Summary ✩ Missing their father, your children decide it’s a good idea to interrupt him in the middle of court

Warnings ✩ Mentions of pregnancy

Authors Notes ✩ Everyday I cry cause this man isn’t real but at least I have fanfic

You tried to stop them, you really did.

But being almost nine moons pregnant and having the most swollen feet known to man, it was almost impossible to chase after and keep up with two rowdy tots.

Usually, their nursemaids would have them by now and would be helping to assist you, but Aliza was sick and Joanna was with her family. Both of them would have scolded you for trying to run when you couldn’t even see your feet, but your kids were a mischievous bunch and you had a sinking feeling on where they were headed.

Aemma, the eldest of the two twins, had been complaining all day about not being able to see her father, as Jace had missed out on breakfast and lunch with her in order to hear a few extra petitions.

It seemed as if the Kingdom was more unruly than usual, and Lords had come from all over the realm to plead their cases.

Wanting to be a good King and make sure that he could adhere to all of his subjects, Jace had opted to spend a little extra time on the throne and a less with his family.

This of course didn’t sit well with Aemma, and as her shadow Jaelin followed right on along with her.

Try as you might have, you weren’t fast enough to catch up to them and your protests for them to stop didn’t do much good, either.

Before you could even blink, your twins were flying past the Kingsguard and bursting into the throne room, with little Aemma’s excited shouting making you want to crawl into a hole right there and then.

“Kepa!”

In no time your baby girl ran across the room, interrupting some poor Lord under a pink banner. You thought that he might’ve been from White Harbor, or maybe he was from Maidenpool.

Whatever it was, you didn’t pay much attention as suddenly, all chatter stopped, and you were the center of attention as you wobbled towards Jacaerys and fixed Aemma with a stern glare.

“Aemma! Come back here!” You shouted after her sternly, and thankfully Jaelin was too afraid of your ‘motherly voice’ to get any closer.

He stopped just short of the Iron Throne, choosing to remain by Ser Darklyn’s side rather than follow his sister up the steps. With horror, you realized that Aemma was headed straight to Jacaerys, exclaiming happily as she threw herself in her father’s open arms.

“Kepa!”

She bounced excitedly as Jace pulled her on his lap, looking amused while you struggled to catch your breath.

Running at your size was no joke, and you ached to sit down somewhere and rest. You couldn’t do that though while your two year old twins were causing mayhem.

It was unbefitting of a Queen, you knew that, but desperation had you hiking up your dress, climbing the the steps, and holding your arms out expectantly while Jace chuckled.

“Aemma. It’s time to say goodbye to Kepa and go back to our chambers. Now,” You told her, but that only resulted in the toddler shaking her head and burying herself even deeper into Jacaerys’ arms.

“No! I want to stay with Kepa!” Her defiant little voice shouted, and you winced as a few murmurs echoed through the court.

You were painfully aware that everybody was staring at the scene, which made it even more embarrassing when you reached out again and failed to grab Aemma.

After about the third attempt to pull her away with no avail, your husband seemed to finally take pity on you and sighed.

“It’s alright my love. She can stay,” Jacaerys said, and upon hearing this Aemma beamed. “It’ll be her seat one day after all. Let her gain some experience; even if it is during the middle of a petition.”

You gave him an apologetic look, and you made a mental note to apologize to Lord…well, whoever you were currently interrupting. You had to admit, the sight of Aemma babbling broken phrases to Jace while she tried to grab his crown was adorable.

You sighed reluctantly.

“Alright,” You said, willing to leave Aemma where she was. At the very least you could persuade Jaelin to follow you and take him away, but as you turned to go back down the stairs you suddenly paused.

Had there always been that many, you wondered?

You hadn’t really paid attention that much, but now that your feet were practically screaming at you to sit down, the idea of going down so many steps didn’t seem so appealing.

Of course, you could’ve just asked one of the Kingsguard to help you down, but you didn’t want to be a bother—as silly as it sounded. You also didn’t want to risk your knees giving out and falling, either.

You were in a dilemma, but before you could even decide, Jace did it for you. Your husband, ever attentive, noticed your hesitation and immediately got up.

“Here, my love. Why don’t you rest and I’ll stand for now,” He suggested.

Even more whispers broke out at this. What Jacaerys was proposing was sweet, but it had never happened before and the idea of the Queen sitting on the throne in the presence of the King was…well it was simply unheard of.

You were sure a few people would call the action scandalous, but at the moment though, you didn’t really care what they thought. Your feet were aching and you needed a place to sit down before your knees decided where for you, so you nodded and accepted his offer.

“Thank you, my love.”

You sighed in relief as you sat on the throne. Albeit, it wasn’t the most comfortable of seats with all the swords and points, and you would’ve much rather been in your cushioned chair in your chambers, but it was better than nothing and the pressure on your feet was gone.

Nodding his head, Jacaerys gave you a small kiss on the side of your head and then he stood with Aemma in his arms, and gestured for Lord whoever to keep speaking.

Had you not been out of breath, you would have laughed at his face and the face of many others as they not only witnessed their King give the most powerful seat in the realm to his pregnant wife, but also witnessed him stand up while bouncing his baby daughter in his arms.

It was an unusual sight, but an adorable one that you cherished.

Motioning to Ser Darklyn to bring Jaelin up so that your family would complete, you smiled in content and Jacaerys once again motioned for the man who had been interrupted to continue his petition.

“Lord Mooton. Please, do continue,” He said with a large smile.

You giggled.

Ah, so that was his name.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Twisted

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: fluff, smut, thriller

wc: 6.6k

synopsis: felix and you live a normal, happy life as a couple. until you start noticing little things that make no sense. felix calls you silly for thinking anything could ever be wrong in your perfect little world. is he being honest or harboring a bigger secret?

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, oral(f), two plot twists!!, dark ending!

a/n: i can't really put all of the warnings here bcs i would spoil the plot twist but i hope you enjoy this one hehehe🤭🫶🏻

divider by: @cafekitsune

~masterlist

There is nothing more beautiful than waking up next to the person you love.

Traces of last night's loving and passionate activities linger in the air all around you as your limbs are entwined with his, not knowing where you begin and where he ends; almost like you've merged into one person.

You stir a little, the warmness of his naked body pressed against yours makes your heart dance inside your chest and your core throb with the everlasting craving you have for Felix.

Your eyes flutter open and you look at him, his hair a royal mess, the strands falling over his forehead and into his eyes, where his eyelashes kiss his freckled skin, his plump lips slightly parted as he cutely drools on the pillow.

You chuckle a little and that stirs him up, he smacks his lips together as you lay on your tummy, facing him, his leg thrown over you.

Felix cracks one eye open and smiles instantly, his fingertips dancing on your back, all along your spine.

"Morning, sweets." his voice is even deeper when he wakes up, but still dripping with honey.

"Morning, love." you whisper and his smile widens, making him look even cuter to you so you lean in and press your lips to his forehead.

Your hand caresses his hair out of the way as your lips repeatedly collide with his skin, kissing his eyebrows, eyelids, nose, all of his starry freckles.

Felix giggles at the onslaught of love, giddy as his arm curls around your waist, bringing you even closer to him.

You enjoy the quiet moment before you have to get up and start your day, face the real world.

As your hands gently caress each other's skin, both of you become hungry for more, hungry to become one like you did last night, more than once.

Felix's breaths are shaky as he ruts his middle against your thigh, his hot leaky cock dragging against your plushy flesh.

You moan quietly as your hand explores his soft skin and Felix maneuvers you so your back is facing him.

"Wanna hold you." he murmurs into your hair, adjusting your leg before he sinks his cock into you easily, your cunt always ready to take him in.

Felix buries himself inside your warmth, holding you tightly as his lips attach to your neck and whisper words of love in your ear.

You melt into his embrace, letting him rock against you, his cock sliding in and out of your wetness in a steady rhythm, his arm wrapped around you as his fingers press on your clit.

Euphoria soon takes you both over as you spill into each other, all wet and warm, full of love.

"I love you, sweetheart." he kisses your shoulder and arm gently.

"I love you too." you turn to smile at him.

Yes, nothing is more beautiful than this moment right here.

-

"Lixie! Are you done getting ready?" you yell out from the hallway.

"Yes! I'm coming, babe." he yells back from your room before he comes skipping down the steps with a big smile on his face.

You chuckle at him as he jumps right in front of you, cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips into yours, a wet smooch sound echoing off the walls.

"You're so cute." your face is warm as you giggle at him.

"That's you." he pinches your cheek, making you whine a little.

"So, do you like my outfit?" he asks with a little spin, a bright smile on his face.

"Of course, you look very handsome." you giggle.

"Don't I always?" he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes at him playfully.

"Why is this new diner so special that you're sooo excited about it?" you ask as the two of you make your way out of your house.

Felix swings your linked hands and smiles.

"You'll see. I know you'll love it." his eyes shine as he beams at you.

"Fine, I trust you." you say and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently.

It's another beautiful sunny day, the birds are chirping in the trees, there is no trace of clouds in the sky, everyone around you seems to be happy, wearing big smiles and saying a polite 'good morning' as you pass them by.

You smile too, enjoying the sun's warmth as Felix yaps about a new video game he discovered recently.

Come to think of it, you don't remember the last time it rained or snowed.

While you ponder this, Felix notices your absent-mindedness and nudges you.

"You're not listening to me." he pouts.

"Sorry, I was just thinking how it's been sunny for so long that I almost forgot what it's like when it rains." you chuckle and Felix's eyes widen for a moment.

"Oh- I mean, isn't that good?" he asks, licking at his lip nervously.

"Sure, but it'd be nice to get some rain now and then." you shrug, looking around.

"I'm sure it'll rain soon." Felix is more quiet than usually when he says that but you pay no mind as the mysterious diner he'd been raving all week about finally comes into view.

"Felix!" you exclaim, grabbing at his arm, a big smile spreading on your face upon seeing what all the rave was about.

Your boyfriend's demeanor changes instantly as he perks up, a big smile on his face.

"It's a space themed diner!" you clap excitedly as you near the entrance.

"Mhm. Just what you love." Felix's eyes sparkle as he looks at your face adoringly. "Are you happy?" he adds.

"Happy? I'm estatic!" you practically skip the rest of the distance as Felix trails behind you with a satisfied smile on his face.

Seeing you like this is the biggest gift he could ever have the honor to indulge in, it's all he needs.

To see you happy.

You hurry inside and the interior of the diner makes you gasp.

The walls are filled with beautiful space paintings and photographs, the ceiling is made of some kind of big screen that has an entire galaxy lighting up here and there, as if all the little stars are actually shining above your heads, spacecraft oval shaped chandeliers hang from the stars, the little lights inside them shining with different colors of the rainbow.

The whole diner seems to be presented as the Solar System, each booth belonging to one planet and designed according to colors and traits of the planet.

Everything seems shiny and sparkly, some experimental electronic music is playing from the speakers as the waiters rush around, all dressed in shiny suits, with cute space details sewn into them.

The place is packed but as if it was waiting for you, the booth inspired by Jupiter, your favorite planet, is empty.

"Shall we?" Felix smiles, reaching his hand out to you.

You nod fervently, still trying to process the entire design of the diner, your heart dancing inside your chest happily.

Felix chuckles and leads you to the booth and as soon as you sit down, an automated voice starts talking from the little speaker on the wall.

"Welcome to Jupiter, the gas giant of our Solar System! It is primarily made out of gases and liquids so your feet won't really touch any ground but that's okay, you can always float along! Just be careful not to get swept away by the famous cyclonic storm called the Great Red Spot, hehe! Fun fact: Jupiter has 80 moons!" the voice talks.

"Startled me at first." you chuckle. "Actually, Jupiter has 95 moons discovered, as of lately. I guess they didn't update the fun fact." you add and Felix frowns.

"Hm." he purses his lips and you giggle. "How could they not update it?"

"It's okay, it's not that big of a deal." you giggle at his pouty face.

Before he can answer, a waiter appears next to your table.

"Hello, my fellow space explorers! I'm glad to see you've chosen Jupiter as your destination today. Take a look at the selection on our menu, it's just out of this world!" the waiter laughs, putting down your menus and twirling around as he walks away giving you some time to decide.

"This place is so kooky." you laugh in delight and your boyfriend smiles at you.

"You like it, right?" he asks.

"I love it, Lixie." you confirm and Felix's face becomes brighter again.

"I wanna try the Milky Way shake." Felix says as he skims through the menu.

"Yeah, we can get a big one, share it?" you blink at him and he melts.

"Of course. What do you wanna eat?" he asks.

"Um- the trip to the moon pancakes sound yummy."

"Ooh, I will get the andromeda cake then and we can share and taste both."

After placing your order, you look around, marvelling at the way they thought about every little detail as whoever made this put a lot of thought into this diner and is obviously a space lover like you.

Your eyes fall to another booth, the Mars one, hues of orange and red swirling on the wall and the seats as your eyes follow the intricate design all the way to the woman sitting in the booth with another woman, perhaps a friend, perhaps her lover.

Something seemed off, though.

The woman was taking sips from her glass, but it seemed like no matter how many times she sipped, the liquid inside didn't move.

Again, she took a big sip and you could see her throat move as she swallowed but the same amount of red liquid with little golden sparkles inside it remained.

You don't know why you were fixating on such a little detail, but it was so peculiar.

"What is it? You like the Mars booth more?" Felix follows your eyes.

"N-no. Just... nevermind." you smile at him. "I'm just looking at the different designs. They're all so pretty." you settle on saying.

"I'm glad- I mean yeah they are." he smiles at you.

Your Milky Way shake arrives along with your food, and everything looks sparkly and delicious, decorated with little edible stars and edible glitter.

Felix and you talk about nonsense, relaxed and full of laughter as you share the shake, sipping from it at the same time.

The way he stares at you, his eyes dark and intense yet so soft and full of love, makes your stomach do backflips every time he's this close to you.

After the delicious brunch, the two of you decide to take a walk to a nearby park, wanting to catch some fresh air and stretch your legs.

Felix's arm is wrapped around your shoulders as you melt into him, your arm wrapped around his waist.

"Ugh Felix, what day is it today?" you suddenly feel confused.

"It's Thursday. Why?" he chuckles.

"Weren't you supposed to be at work?" your brain struggles to remember if he said he had a day off or not.

"Y/n, don't be silly. I have the whole week free, remember? We said we'd spend as much time as we can together."

"Right." you chuckle, your memory refreshed. "Silly me. Must be the Milky Way shake with the way I'm spacing out."

Felix laughs at your pun as you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

The world is so beautiful with the sound of his laughter gracing it and with his attention focused only on you.

With warmness in your heart, you return to your home.

-

You work from home, so as soon as you arrive back at your house, you sit down at your desk.

You feel bad for not helping Felix with dinner but he reassures you that he doesn't mind cooking a meal for the two of you, in fact, it makes him happy.

Retreating into your home office, you began working.

Exhaustion takes you over after a few hours, not even realizing what time it is until there's a knock on your door.

"Y/n, love? Dinner is ready." it's Felix's warm deep voice and you turn to look at him, a smile on your face instantly.

"Okay, I'll be down in a few minutes-"

"Babe, you've done enough. Come on, you need to eat something." Felix makes his way to you, his hand gentle on your upper back as he caresses you.

You melt into his touch instantly, thoughts of continuing to work disperse immediately.

"Okay." you chuckle as he leans down to kiss your forehead gently.

The food is delicious like always and as you keep eating, the sky outside darkens suddenly.

You squint your eyes, lifting your head up to look out the window.

"Oh!" you exclaim as thunder rolls in.

Felix turns his head towards the sound, seemingly unphased but there is a small smirk dancing on his lips that you miss.

"Looks like it's gonna rain after all." he says.

"Yeah." you quip, a weird feeling settling in your stomach.

You decide to ignore it, it's a coincidence that it started raining just when you thought about it, it's not like you predicted the weather or something.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" Felix smiles and you nod.

"Of course, it was delicious. I'm not letting you wash the dishes alone though." you point at him jokingly.

"It's fine, sweetheart." Felix is quick to shake his head as he starts cleaning out the table.

"No, you cooked. Let me be useful for something at least."

"You are useful."

"You know what I meant." you say and he nods, the two of you settling on washing the dishes together.

As you're putting the last plate in its place, Felix appears behind you, pressing his body into yours as his arms wrap around you.

He whines, nuzzling his face in your neck as goosebumps rise on your skin and you melt into him.

"Hello there." you giggle.

"Mm." his lips attach to your neck, leaving gentle kisses and you lean your head back on his shoulder, giving him more space.

"Let's shower together." you suggest and Felix hums against you with a smirk.

It's a daily routine you have, any moment you don't have to spend apart, you spend together including showering.

If someone gave Felix the chance, he would quit his job and just be your boyfriend.

He often thought about that, spending every second of the day with you, even while you work, he'd be content in sitting quietly next to you.

He'd have you all to himself, forever.

But, real life gets in the way but he concludes that that's what makes every moment you are with him even more precious.

"Let me help you, sweetheart." his voice drips with honey again as he turns your back to him while the two of you stand under the shower.

Shivers run up your spine as his fingertips slide on your back.

He grabs your shampoo, pouring it on his hands before he starts washing your hair.

You relax into his touch, loving the way he always takes care of you. His hands are gentle but firm as he massages the bubbles into your scalp before rinsing it off.

As you lean back into him, his semi-hard cock brushes against your backside and you chuckle.

"Someone's getting excited." you look back at him with a playful smirk.

"Can you blame me? My beautiful girlfriend is naked right in front of me." he smiles somewhat of an innocent smile, a contrast to the steamy atmosphere shaping between you.

His arms wrap around you as he pulls your body flush against his, making you shiver.

"I need you, my sweet." he whispers, bumping his nose with yours, lips brushing against you.

"Lixie." his hands roam on your body, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "Let's go to bed, hm? I love the thought of shower sex but last time you slipped and almost cracked your head open on the tiles and I really don't want to go through that again."

Felix whines in embarassment, burying his face in your neck as he tightens his hold on you.

"That was one time. All the other times were fine." he pouts against your skin.

"I don't wanna see you hurting, come on." you say and he reluctantly follows you out of the shower.

After drying off, Felix whisks you away to your bedroom, almost throwing you down on the soft bed as you squeal, the room filled with laughter.

"My sweetheart." he coos at you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb swipes on your skin.

Before you can say anything, his plump lips are on yours as he kisses you lovingly, passionately, possessively, his tongue pushing inside and swirling around yours, taking your breath away.

You clutch onto him as he lowers his middle into yours, grinding his hardening cock against your wet pussy.

He keeps kissing you and swallowing your moans, as his tip catches your entrance a few times but he keeps grinding against you.

"L-Lix, need you." you whimper in frustration, wanting him to fill you up.

"Yeah? My baby needs me?" he smirks and you whimper again.

"Yes, please. Need you inside me." you bat your eyelashes at him, trying to look as cute as possible even though Felix would kiss the ground you walked on if you told him to.

"Such a good girl. Asking so nicely." he keeps smirking before grabbing his cock and slowly sinking into your heat.

Both of you moan at the feeling as he slowly pushes in, bottoming out and fitting snuggly inside you.

Felix tries, he really does, he tries to be gentle but you feel so damn good clenching around him, keeping his cock inside you, your legs and arms wrapped around him as he fucks into your sweet spot.

"Ah!" you exclaim as Felix picks up his speed, his hips snapping into you as he presses your knees to your shoulders, coming down on you with all his weight.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head as he fucks you relentlessy, making you cum in mere minutes.

"Shit, baby you're so wet." Felix looks down at his cock, the white cream of your pleasure painted on his length.

He grunts deeply before fucking into you again, the squelching sounds making your face and ears burn.

Your boyfriend is like a bunny in heat, never stopping or slowing down, making his cock slip out of you on accident as he keeps wilding above you.

A little whimper escapes his lips, missing your heat immediately as he grabs his length and pushes back into you, resuming his ruthless pace.

"Mm, yeah, take it." he groans and all you can do is moan as you let him have his way with you.

"F-Felix!" you moan as he brings you to your second orgasm.

"Yeah, say my name baby." he smirks as he pounds into you.

You keep moaning his name as you climax, getting his cock even more wet which in return makes him even crazier for you.

You're sure the bed will break with the force he's fucking you with, his cock slipping out of you a few more times, making him whimper every time it happens.

He grips your hips, thrusting into you erratically as his cock twitches inside you.

"Gonna give you my cum." his voice is whiny and high-pitched, breathless from the exertion.

"Yes, fill me up, Lixie!" you whimper and he cums, buried deep inside you as your pussy milks his cock down to the last drop.

Felix collapses on top of you and you hold each other, as you listen to the sound of the rain hitting the glass.

"Isn't it weird that it started raining as soon as I mentioned it?" you swallow, staring out the window, your hands drawing random patterns on Felix's back.

You feel him tense in your hold before he lets out a chuckle.

"No, maybe you heard it on the news and subconsciously thought about it or something. Or maybe..." he turns to look at you, his cheek leaned on your breast. "Maybe you have superpowers and you can predict the future." Felix wiggles his eyebrows playfully and you let out a snort.

"Oh sure, that sounds highly likely." you shake your head as he lifts up and kisses you.

"I love you." he smiles after attacking you with sweet kisses.

"I love you, Lixie." you cradle his face.

"Guess we gotta shower again?"

The next morning, you were woken up by Felix's lips on your inner thighs as he made his way to your core.

"Lix..." you mutter half asleep and he only hums in response, lips ghosting over your panties before pressing a kiss to your cunt.

"L-Lixie!" you whine when his tongue darts out to lick at the damp spot on the fabric.

"Relax, baby, let me take care of you." your eyes flutter closed again as he slips off your underwear, his lips wrapping around your clit immediately.

As always, Felix is hungry for you, like he can never get enough of your taste and the way you feel against his tongue, the way you grip his hair or press your thighs around his head.

He ruts against the bedsheets as you slide your middle against tongue, gripping his hair.

He moans into you, the vibrations helping you get closer to the edge as he digs his nails into your plushy thighs.

Fireworks explode from the inside, spilling your sweet juices on Felix's tongue and chin.

"Mm, baby." he whines against your cunt, lapping you up and leaving more kisses on your clit and all along your folds.

"Sensitive..." you whimper and he leans back before lifting up and hovering over you.

"I couldn't help myself, you just looked so sweet while sleeping." Felix bites on his lip as he looks at you adoringly.

"Oh, I don't mind." you smirk. "Let me help you."

"Um..." his face becomes red suddenly. "I - erm, finished already."

"Oh. Oh." you look down at his boxers.

"Embarassing, really."

"It's not. I'm flattered actually." you smirk, caressing his face.

Felix chuckles cutely before leaning down to kiss you.

"What's the plan for today?" you ask against his lips.

"Well, I was thinking we could have a picnic. I mean, it's sunny again." he nods towards the window.

"Okay, I love picnics." you smile as he gets up.

"Actually, I don't remember when was the last time I went on a picnic." you purse your lips, sitting up.

For some reason, memories seem blurry when you start thinking about them, it almost hurts your brain to try and remember well; almost anything.

"We had one like a month ago. Remember? You cut up fruits in the shapes of little stars." Felix says, rummaging through his drawer.

It's as if it suddenly appears in your mind, the clear memory of you preparing for the picnic together with Felix, enjoying a sunny day in the nature.

"Right, I remember now." you chuckle nervously. "Why couldn't I remember that?"

"You just woke up, you need some coffee, my love." Felix comes up to you and kisses your head.

"I'm gonna go take a quick shower." he says and you nod, watching him leave to the bathroom.

You get up and make your way to the kitchen, making some coffee and toast for the two of you, before you start preparing snacks for the picnic.

While you're working on the sandwiches, you can't shake off the uneasy feeling that's creating a knot in your stomach.

When was the last time you went outside without Felix? When was the last time he walked out of the house to go to work? When was the last time you talked to your family?

You can't remember. None of it.

Before you start panicking, Felix appears in the kitchen, startling you.

"Oh, Lix!" you exclaim, your hand on your chest.

"What scared you? It's just me." he smiles sweetly at you.

You stare at him for a moment, could he be hiding something from you?

But Felix is always so caring and loving, he is the best partner you could ever ask for.

He always makes an effort, takes you out on dates, takes care of you when you're tired or sick, is attentive towards your wants and needs; he actually listens to you when you talk.

He loves you.

"Y/n?" Felix chuckles, waving a hand in front of your face.

"Ah, sorry." you laugh awkwardly. "Was just lost in thought."

"What were you thinking about?" Felix grabs one of the toasts you made and bites into it.

"You. How wonderful of a boyfriend you are." you settle on saying, because it is sort of true.

"Aw, darling. Only the best for you." he skips towards you with a big smile, enveloping you in a bone crushing hug as you squeal and grab at him, both of you laughing.

How could you even doubt him?

Felix helps you with the rest of the snacks before the two of you get ready and walk out into another beautiful sunny day.

The walk is short, as there is a park near to your house, your memory now refreshed as you see the tree you always sit under coming into view.

Felix and you race towards the tree, laughing and giddy like little children.

You almost get there first but his arms wrap around your middle and he pulls you back into him, making you almost drop the basket of food you were carrying.

"Lixie! That's cheating!" you put as he turns you around and touches the tree with his foot.

"I won!" Felix smirks.

You pout at him as he puts his backpack down and takes out the picnic blanket.

"Not fair." you whine and he chuckles at you, cupping your face.

"Fine, you won and I'm just a dirty cheater." he smirks and you laugh as he kisses you.

"There, is that better?" he rubs his nose against yours.

"Yes." you nod, making him laugh.

The two of you settle on the blanket, even bringing a speaker so you can play some music while you chat and eat.

After some time, Felix wraps his arm around you and leans on you so you wrap your arms around him as he settles on your chest.

It's quiet for a while and since your focus is not on Felix at the moment, you start looking around.

Cars roll in the distance, one, two, three, four, five, six, then again... It seems as if the same six cars keep passing by.

You stare in disbelief before your eyes fall near the pond where a man is throwing a stick to his dog.

It lands next to a tree and the dog runs to get it, bringing it back to its owner. Then it repeats, the man throws the stick, it lands next to the same tree, the dog gets it, the man throws the stick...

The stick keeps landing on the exact same spot next to that tree, the probability of that is too low for it to be happening repeatedly.

"Lix?" you swallow.

"Yes, sweets?" Felix looks up at you.

"Do you ever- do you ever feel like something is wrong? But you can't quite put your finger on it."

"What do you mean?" he lifts up to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Well... Look at that man and his dog." you point and Felix turns to look.

"What about them?"

"Watch where the stick lands." you say and Felix watches as it lands next to the tree.

And so it does again. And again.

"So?" he licks his lips.

"How is he hitting the exact same spot every time?"

"Good hand-eye coordination? Practice?" Felix says, a nervous smile on his face.

You sigh in frustration.

"What about the road? Look at the road!" you point again and Felix looks.

"The same six cars keep going round and round."

"They're not the same, it just seems so."

"Felix, something is wrong. I can feel it! Like how it started raining when I mentioned it. And the lady in the diner yesterday, she kept drinking from her glass but the amount of liquid stayed the same."

"Babe, that's silly. Nothing is wrong. I'm sure it just seemed so, maybe the glass was in the same color as her drink?" Felix places his hand on yours cautiously.

"Lix... I don't know, it's just that I can't remember certain things and it's bothering me."

Felix's eyes dart left and right, his lips pursed.

"Like what?"

"Like the last time I saw my friends or family. The last time you left the house. The last time I was home alone."

"We visited your family two months ago. You saw your friends last weekend. I left the house last week every day when I was working and you were home alone then." Felix frowns as he looks at you. "Baby, are you feeling alright?" he adds, touching your forehead and your eyes water.

"N-no." you whimper, feeling so confused and wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

"How about we go home and you take a nap? I promise you'll feel better after sleeping." Felix coos at you, caressing your face.

"Are you sure it's gonna be okay?" you hiccup.

"I promise, my love." he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Felix takes you home, and you trust him when he lays you down and whispers how everything is going to be just fine.

You wake up from your nap feeling drowsy and slightly confused.

Felix is next to you, his arms wrapped around you as he breathes deeply.

You sit up, grabbing the glass of water he has left on the nightstand for you when you wake up.

After sipping on the refreshing liquid, you look outside the window and freeze.

"What the fuck?" you mumble to yourself, squinting your eyes as you get up.

"What the fuck?" you repeat, trying to process what your eyes are seeing and Felix stirs behind you.

"Babe?" he grunts a little as he sits up.

"L-Lix..." your voice is shaky as you start panicking.

Felix gets up as you keep staring out the window.

The void stares back at you.

There is nothing outside. No road, no trees, no supermarket, it's not the street you live on, it's one big nothing; just a white light.

"Oh, shit!" Felix exclaims as he sees what you're looking at.

"I told you! I told you something is wrong!" you turn to look at your boyfriend, tears sliding down your cheeks.

But instead of looking scared, Felix looks angry.

"Fucking shit!" his voice raises as his hands reach towards the books on your table, and in frustration he pulls on them, making them clatter down on the floor.

"Felix!" you exclaim as he starts raging, throwing everything on the table down to the floor in a wave of anger.

You've never seen him like this, panicking you step back, not knowing how to react to his outburst or what it all means.

Felix looks up at you suddenly, his eyes softening and filling up with guilt.

"I'm- I'm sorry, y/n."

"Tell me what is happening." you say and he shakes his head.

"Stay here." he says and you step towards him.

"No, tell me what's going on!" you demand and the scowl is back on your boyfriend's face.

"Stay right here and stop asking fucking questions." he says angrily, making you flinch before he leaves the room.

The door slams behind him and as you make your move to follow him, you hear the lock click.

"Felix?" you grip the handle, trying to open up the door. "Felix! You can't just lock me in here without any explanation!" you scream, rattling and kicking the door.

"Felix, please come back!" you yell, your fists pounding against the wood. "I'm scared." you add quietly as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

Felix disconnects the VR set from his head.

How the fuck did this happen?

How come it didn't render the street as it always does? Why have you started noticing the little things you've never noticed before? Why have you started thinking about your past so much?

He opens up the code with a frustrated sigh, his fingers gliding against the keyboard.

Maybe the AI is getting stronger and more brainy the more he plays with it.

Felix's eyebrows knit together as he goes over the thousands lines of code, trying to figure out if there is some kind of mistake that the computer is not picking up on.

His stomach grumbles and he leans back with a sigh, the virtual food can only do so much.

Felix finally stands up from his table, realizing how long he must've been sitting there judging by the ache in his legs and back.

"I'll deal with you later." he waves his finger towards the computer before picking up his phone and ordering pizza.

He grabs a can of soda from his fridge and looks around.

It's eerily quiet in his apartment, save for the silent buzzing of his computer and the distant hum of traffic outside.

Felix makes his way to the big glass windows, staring down at the city before him.

He's gonna have to go back to work on Monday, knowing he can't spend as much time with you the way he wants to when his vacation days end, brings a sadness to his soul.

The 'you' who basically doesn't exist, you who is just lines and lines of code, a program, there only when he disconnects from reality.

If he could, Felix would disconnect from it forever just so he could be inside the damn device next to you, always.

And now since he made you upset, it's going to be hard to get everything back how it was before, under his control.

He gets angry at himself for not being more careful and adding in more details, all for the sake of just being with you the whole time, seeing you happy and satisified.

Yes, that's all Felix wants.

He wants to be the only one you smile at, the only one that gets to enjoy something so holy and beautiful like your love and your touch.

The doorbell snaps him out of his thoughts and after paying the delivery guy, Felix sits alone and eats his dinner while thinking of ways to correct his mistakes.

You were not gonna slip from his fingers.

This won't be ruined for him.

You open your eyes and turn to see Felix already awake, on his side, his head propped on his hand as he stares at you lovingly.

"Good morning, my angel." he smiles at you.

"M-morning. I- ugh... I feel weird. I think I had a nightmare." your throat is dry as you swallow and Felix grabs the glass of water, bringing it to your lips.

"What kind of nightmare?"

"Well, there was nothing outside- outside the windows. And you got mad and started throwing stuff around. You really scared me."

"Oh my love, that would never happen." Felix quickly wraps his arms around you. "Everything outside is fine too, look." he turns you both towards the window and sure enough, everything looks normal.

"I'm so glad it was just a dream. I never want us to fight or anything." you whimper and Felix shushes you.

"Everything is perfect, my love. And I will make sure it stays that way." Felix mutters into your hair before pressing a few sweet kisses there.

"It's my last free day before going to work. Let's enjoy it together, without you worrying your pretty head about anything, hm?" he adds and you nod with a chuckle.

Felix and you decide to go bowling and then out for lunch, topping the outing off with a nice walk near the beach and everything seems perfect again; nothing like the bad dream you had or the unsettling feeling in your stomach.

No, that feeling was replaced with butterflies as Felix smiled lovingly at you, telling you how much he loves you.

When you got home, you spent hours in each other's embrace, connected as one.

Everything was beautiful, the way it was supposed to be.

It's Monday and Felix makes his way to work.

The bell on the door chimes as he opens it, eyes looking up at him from the counter.

He smiles wide as he enters.

"Hi, Lix!" you smile innocently at him.

"Hey, y/n." he smiles back, the voices in his head telling him he's sick but he ignores them.

"How was your vacation? Did something fun?" you ask, always so sweet, so polite, so pretty.

"Oh yeah. It was amazing." he nods at you.

You smile, not wanting to pry too much, unaware of what Felix has been doing for almost two years since he started working with you.

As soon as he saw you for the first time, Felix swears he felt Cupid shoot his arrow right into his heart. You were so beautiful, so pure like an angel.

Always smiling, always nice with everyone. The sound of your laughter melodious inside the cafe, echoing off the walls.

You always gave extra sweets to kids.

You always stayed behind to clean up.

You always offered to help out.

He wanted to have you all to himself.

He wanted to capture your beauty and innocence and hold it in the palm of his hand, have it exist only for him.

Yes, Felix could've confessed or asked you out.

But then you would see how boring he is, how he has nothing to offer to you.

You'd leave him, you'd smile at someone else, your attention wouldn't be only directed towards him.

Felix started staying behind with you, under the guise of helping you out just to get more information about where you live, what you enjoy, what you dislike, what your hobbies are.

It wasn't enough.

He became obsessed.

Felix learned your schedule and started breaking into your house.

At first, he stole some panties and went through all your stuff, reading your diaries, going through your photographs, taking your privacy away from you without you having a clue about it.

But then it became worse as he would wait for you to come home, his body cramped under your bed.

He would watch you get undressed, listen to you touch yourself on your bed, his cock straining against his pants and he couldn't do anything about it except squeeze it occasionally.

Embarassingly, he came into his pants while only listening to you more times than he'd like to admit.

It wasn't enough.

Felix was hungry for more.

That's how he came to the idea to steal your dna and feed it to the new AI system he was working on in his spare time.

He had to collect enough of it to have the ai take on your personality, the one he loved and admired so much.

Felix spent hours and hours coding and working on the program, until finally he could use it.

It was everything he wanted and more.

You were happy there.

You were his there.

Here, in the real world, you were just coworkers and that fact started bothering Felix more and more.

Unaware of his intentions, you smiled at Felix and he smiled back at you.

It was time to take another step so he could have you for real this time.

Tonight, you were gonna become his and there was no way to escape.

Felix was gonna show you how happy he can make you, only him.

You're going to be right where you belong.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | there's always a first for everything

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @sonichkkaaascreams) : you are extremely playful, flirty, and teasing with your formula one boyfriend but when times comes to move to third base, you admit that you're actually quite inexperienced...

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : mentions of sex, first-time, suggestive themes ୨ৎ : word count : 5289

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was such a fun request to write ty!

ʚ・max verstappen

the atmosphere was filled with a faint hum of the harbor mixed with the chatter of distant parties, but all you could focus on was max beside you. he stood just close enough that his arm brushed yours, his piercing blue eyes locked on you with a sly smile tugging at his lips.

"you keep staring at me like that, verstappen… should i be worried?" you teased, nudging his side with your shoulder.

his laugh was low and warm, curling around you like the balmy night air. "worried? no. flattered? definitely."

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned at the way he was looking at you. "you talk a big game for someone who's never beaten me at darts."

"that’s because you cheat," he shot back, stepping a little closer. his voice dropped, teasing but laced with something heavier. "but i’m pretty sure i could beat you at something else."

you raised an eyebrow, keeping your tone light even as your pulse kicked up. "like what? racing?"

he smirked, tilting his head as his fingers ghosted over yours. "i was thinking something a bit more… hands-on."

your breath caught, but you played it off with a quick laugh. "careful, max. you might actually scare me off."

"i don’t think you scare that easily," he murmured, his voice soft and steady as he leaned closer.

the teasing melted into something electric, the space between you shrinking until his lips hovered just over yours. when he kissed you, it wasn’t hesitant or rushed—it was deliberate, like he’d been waiting for this moment and wanted to savor every second.

his hands cupped your face gently, his touch tender even as the kiss deepened. you felt your heart pounding in your chest, heat flooding your veins. but as his hands began to drift lower and his lips trailed along your neck, you froze.

"wait…" you whispered, pulling back just enough to break the moment.

max stopped instantly, his hands dropping as he searched your face. "what’s wrong? did i—"

"no," you cut him off quickly, your cheeks burning. "it’s not that… i just… i’ve never done this before."

it felt clumsy and awkward spilling out, and you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, too embarrassed to look at him. "i don’t really know what i’m doing, and i didn’t want you to think…" you trailed off, unsure how to finish.

"hey," he said gently, his voice pulling your gaze back to him. his expression was soft, his blue eyes warm and understanding. "you don’t have to explain. it’s okay."

"i just didn’t want you to think i’m—"

"don’t," he interrupted, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "don’t overthink it. there’s no pressure. we’ll go at your pace… or not at all, if that’s what you want."

you blinked up at him, your chest tightening at the tenderness in his voice. "you’re really okay with this?"

he brushed his thumb along your cheek, his smile growing. "more than okay. this isn’t a race, you know. and with you, i don’t mind taking my time."

a laugh bubbled out of you, easing the tension that had built in your chest. "you’re too good to me, verstappen."

"yeah, well," he said, his trademark cocky grin returning as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "don’t forget it. you’ve got the exclusive version."

you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder as your nerves gave way to something softer—something that felt a lot like love.

"thanks, max… i love you," you whispered.

"i love you too," he murmured, his arms tightening around you. then, his voice turned playful again. "now, let’s go inside before you start using this as an excuse to dodge another darts rematch."

you laughed, pulling back to meet his mischievous gaze. somehow, max always knew how to make everything feel right—like there was no place in the world you’d rather be.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you sat cross-legged on the plush couch, sipping wine as lewis leaned back beside you, one arm draped casually over the cushions, his other hand wrapped around his glass.

he was watching you again—that familiar, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“you’re quiet,” you teased, setting your glass on the coffee table. “that’s not like you.”

he chuckled softly, his voice low and smooth. “i’m just enjoying the view.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you, flushing under his gaze. “you’re laying it on thick tonight, hamilton.”

“am i?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his grin widening. “maybe i just don’t say it enough.”

“sure,” you replied, trying to sound unaffected as you reached for a throw pillow to hug against your chest. “lewis hamilton, seven-time world champion, and suddenly you’re a poet too.”

he leaned forward, setting his glass down before turning his full attention to you. “you act like you’re not used to me complimenting you by now. do i really need to convince you i mean it?”

his voice softened at the end, and suddenly the playful banter felt heavier, more intimate. he shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours as his fingers traced light patterns on the pillow you were clutching.

“you’re impossible,” you murmured, though your voice wavered slightly, your defenses slipping.

lewis smirked. “you’re still here, though.”

before you could reply, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. it wasn’t rushed or insistent—it was patient, as if he wanted to savor the moment, to make sure you felt it too.

you kissed him back, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, his warmth grounding you as the world outside faded into the background. but as his hand slid to your waist and his lips moved to the curve of your jaw, you stiffened, pulling back just slightly.

“wait…” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

lewis immediately stopped, his hand retreating as he searched your face. “what’s wrong?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

you swallowed hard, feeling a knot of nerves tighten in your chest. “it’s not you… i just…” you looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “i’ve never done this before.”

it felt like the words were tumbling out of your mouth ungracefully, and you braced yourself for his reaction.

“you mean…” he started, his voice gentle.

you nodded quickly, your cheeks burning. “yeah. i’ve never gone this far, and i don’t really know what i’m doing. i— i didn’t want to disappoint you or make it awkward.”

lewis stayed quiet for a moment, and when you finally glanced up at him, his expression was so soft it made your chest ache.

“why would you think that’d disappoint me?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.

“i don’t know…” you admitted, shrugging as you looked down again. “you probably expected someone who—”

“stop,” he said, his fingers tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “i don’t expect anything from you, okay? this… you… it’s not about experience or any of that. it’s about us, and i’m not going to rush you.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “you’re not… disappointed?”

“disappointed?” he repeated, shaking his head with a small smile. “not even close. if anything, it just makes this more special.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, the weight in your chest lifting slightly. “you’re really okay with this?”

“of course i am,” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek in that impossibly tender way of his. “we’ll go as slow as you need to. and if you’re not ready, that’s fine too. i’m not going anywhere.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you found yourself leaning into his touch. “you’re too good to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling just a little.

lewis smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you deserve nothing less.”

you let out a soft laugh, the tension in the room easing as you rested your head against his shoulder. the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing calmed you, and for the first time that night, you felt completely at ease.

“i love you,” you murmured after a moment, the words slipping out naturally.

his arm tightened around you, his voice low and full of emotion as he replied, “i love you too.”

ʚ・george russell

george laid beside you, his long frame relaxed as he rested on one elbow, looking at you instead of the stars.

“you know, the view up there is stunning,” you said, pointing to the sky, “but you keep staring at me.”

“can you blame me?” he replied smoothly, his lips curling into that signature lopsided grin.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading across your cheeks. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’ve been called worse,” he teased, his voice soft, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet beauty of the night. “but it��s true. you’re impossible to look away from.”

you shook your head, laughing lightly. “you’ve got the stars and the whole milky way up there, and you’re wasting your time looking at me?”

“absolutely,” he said without hesitation, his tone sincere enough to make your breath catch.

before you could reply, george shifted closer, his hand brushing against yours where it rested on the blanket. the touch was small, almost imperceptible, but it sent your pulse racing. when his fingers slowly intertwined with yours, you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim starlight.

he leaned in then, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft and careful, like he was testing the waters. you melted into it, your hand moving to his shoulder as the kiss deepened, his touch both gentle and grounding.

but as his hand moved to your waist, and the kiss became more intense, a wave of nerves washed over you. you broke the kiss, pulling back slightly, your breathing unsteady.

“wait…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

george froze instantly, his brows knitting together as concern flickered across his face. “are you okay? did i do something wrong?”

“no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “it’s not that.” you looked down, chewing on your bottom lip as embarrassment bubbled up. “i’ve just… i’ve never done this before.”

his confusion gave way to realization, and he sat up a little straighter, his grip on your hand never loosening. “you mean…?”

you nodded, the words catching in your throat. “yeah. i’ve never gone this far, and i don’t really know what i’m doing. i didn’t want you to think i’m… i don’t know… weird, or inexperienced, or—”

“hey,” george interrupted gently, his free hand reaching out to tilt your chin up so you’d meet his gaze. “you’re not weird, and you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

you blinked at him, surprised by how calm and steady his voice was. “i just… i didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

“disappointed?” he repeated, his lips twitching into a small smile. “the only way i’d be disappointed is if you felt like you couldn’t be honest with me.”

his words were like a balm, easing the knot of anxiety in your chest. “so you’re really okay with this?”

“of course i am,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “it’s not about what we do or don’t do. it’s about being with you. that’s what matters to me.”

your throat tightened at the sincerity in his voice, and you looked away briefly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. “you make it sound so simple.”

“because it is,” he said, his smile soft as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. “we’ll take things at your pace, okay? there’s no rush. and if you’re not ready, that’s perfectly fine too.”

you exhaled shakily, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “how are you so perfect?” you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

“i’m not,” he said with a small chuckle. “but i’m trying my best for you.”

you tilted your head to look up at him, your chest swelling with gratitude and something far deeper. “thank you, george.”

“for what?”

“for… everything,” you said softly.

he smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to thank me. i’m exactly where i want to be.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos laid beside you on the bed, propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes locked onto yours. the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered—sent your heart racing.

“what are you thinking about?” you asked softly, your fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

“you,” he said simply, his voice low and warm. a small, teasing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “always you.”

you laughed lightly, rolling your eyes. “you’re such a romantic.”

“i mean it,” he said, leaning in closer until his nose brushed against yours. “you drive me crazy, you know that?”

before you could respond, his lips found yours, slow and deliberate. the kiss deepened quickly, his hand sliding up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your stomach flutter.

carlos shifted, guiding you onto your back as he hovered over you. his kisses grew hungrier, trailing from your lips to your jawline, then down the curve of your neck. his hands slid to your waist, his touch sending sparks through your body.

you felt the heat between you building, the line between playful and passionate blurring. when his hand slipped beneath the hem of your top, a nervous knot tightened in your chest, and you froze.

“carlos, wait,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he stopped immediately, his lips stilling against your collarbone as he pulled back to look at you. his brow furrowed slightly in concern. “what’s wrong, cariño? did i do something?”

“no, it’s not you,” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. you avoided his gaze, embarrassed, as you fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “it’s just… i’ve never done this before.”

the silence that followed made your heart pound even harder, but when you dared to look up at him, the worry on his face had softened into something tender.

“you mean… nunca?” he asked gently, his voice softer now.

you nodded, swallowing hard. “yeah. i’ve never… gone this far before. i didn’t want you to think i’m… i don’t know, inexperienced or—”

“stop,” he said, cutting you off gently as he cupped your face with both hands. his eyes searched yours, filled with nothing but warmth and reassurance. “don’t do that. don’t feel embarrassed about this. it doesn’t matter to me.”

“it doesn’t?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“no, cariño,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “the only thing that matters is you. if you’re not ready, we don’t have to do anything.”

you hesitated, his words melting some of your nerves. “i want to… with you. i just… i don’t know what i’m doing.”

carlos’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “then let me show you,” he murmured. “we’ll take it slow. i promise. and i’ll make it special for you… the way it should be.”

your chest tightened, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his voice. “you’re sure?”

“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

he leaned in, kissing you softly, as if to prove his words. his hands moved carefully, his touch unhurried and deliberate as he coaxed you into relaxing. he spoke to you in whispers, his deep voice grounding you as he told you how beautiful you were, how much he cared about you.

every moment felt like it was filled with purpose—no rush, no pressure. he focused entirely on you, watching your reactions and pausing whenever you needed. the world outside faded completely, leaving only him and the warmth of his presence.

and when it finally happened, it was everything you could have hoped for—gentle, intimate, and filled with love. carlos made sure every second was about you, showing you just how much you meant to him.

you tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling as his brown eyes met yours. “i love you, carlos.”

his smile widened, and he kissed you again, slow and sweet. “te quiero más, mi amor. always.”

and in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you knew you’d never felt safer—or more loved—in your entire life.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the hotel room was quiet except for the sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside. the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a silvery glow across the room. you sat cross-legged on the plush bed, your knees brushing against charles’s as he sat opposite you, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“you know,” he said, tilting his head, “you’re staring at me an awful lot tonight. do i have something on my face?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “no, but you do have this annoying habit of thinking the universe revolves around you.”

he clutched his chest dramatically, falling back onto the bed. “mon dieu! you wound me.” (my god!)

laughing, you leaned over and gave him a playful shove. “get up, you drama queen.”

instead of sitting up, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down beside him, his arm sliding around your waist to keep you close. your breath caught as his face hovered just inches from yours, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“you like it,” he murmured, his voice dropping slightly.

“maybe,” you whispered back, your cheeks heating.

the playful teasing shifted as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft at first, then deepened as his hand moved to cradle your face. your fingers found their way into his hair, and the kiss grew more heated, his body pressing into yours as you lost yourself in him.

but just as his hand slid down to rest on your hip, you froze.

“wait,” you said, breaking the kiss.

charles stopped instantly, his brows knitting together as he pulled back slightly. “qu’est-ce qui ne va pas? what’s wrong?” (what’s wrong?)

you bit your lip, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “i… i’ve never done this before.”

his confusion was almost comical as he blinked at you. “you’ve never…?”

you nodded quickly, your face burning. “yeah. never. and i know it’s probably ridiculous at my age, but—”

“wait, wait,” he said, sitting up suddenly, his hand going to his mouth like he was trying not to laugh. “are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

“charles!” you hissed, swatting his arm, mortified.

“i’m sorry!” he said, laughing now, though his tone was more amused than mocking. “i just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. you, uh… you had me fooled.”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

“non, non,” he said quickly, gently prying your hands away from your face. (no, no) his grin softened into something more affectionate. “it’s not embarrassing. it’s… cute, actually.”

“cute?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him.

he shrugged, his lips quirking up again. “yes, cute. you’re like a little… how do you say… a rookie?”

“charles!”

“okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, though he was still grinning. “i’ll stop. but seriously, you don’t have to feel embarrassed. everyone starts somewhere.”

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, his lighthearted teasing easing some of your nerves. “you’re such an idiot.”

“but i’m your idiot,” he quipped, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

as the laughter faded, the room grew quiet again, the air between you shifting. charles’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he looked at you, his teasing demeanor giving way to something more serious.

“are you okay?” he asked softly. “i don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

you stared at him for a moment, your heart swelling at how genuine he was. slowly, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was more confident this time. when you pulled back, your eyes met his, and you smiled.

“i’m sure,” you said firmly. “if i’m going to do this, i want it to be with you.”

charles’s eyes widened slightly, and then his expression softened into something that made your chest ache—in the best way. “you’re really sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yes,” you said, your hand moving to cup his cheek. “with you, charles. only you.”

“you’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

you smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. “you’re not so bad yourself.”

he laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “so… do you think i will be good enough for your first time?”

“charles!” you said, smacking his shoulder, though you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped.

“what? i’m just asking,” he said, grinning down at you.

you rolled your eyes but leaned up to kiss him anyway. “perfect. you will be perfect.”

“good,” he said, pulling you closer. “because i'm going to be your first, and your last."

and with that, he kissed you again, leaving you with no doubt that you’d made the right choice.

ʚ・lando norris

the two of you were supposed to go to the team dinner, but after some poor excuses and convincing from lando (“come on, do you really want to sit next to zak while he lectures us on efficiency?”), you’d ended up here instead.

“you’re seriously telling me you’ve never seen shrek 2?” lando asked, his mouth half-full of pizza, his voice dripping with exaggerated disbelief.

you groaned, tossing a crust at him. “why is that so shocking? it’s not like it’s a rite of passage!”

“it is!” he shot back, dodging the crust with dramatic flair. “forget racing—this is what’s wrong with society. people skipping cinematic masterpieces.”

you rolled your eyes, unable to keep from laughing at his antics. “if you care so much, put it on.”

“fine,” he said, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the options. “but don’t say i didn’t warn you when your life changes forever.”

the movie started, but somewhere between donkey’s singing and your shared commentary, you ended up on the bed, legs tangled as you debated which animated character was the best.

“it’s obviously puss in boots,” you said, gesturing at the screen.

“no way. donkey carries the entire movie,” lando argued, his head propped on his hand as he looked at you, his dimples showing with every word.

“you just love chaos,” you teased, poking his cheek.

“true,” he said, catching your hand before you could pull away. his expression shifted slightly, his playful grin softening as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “but i also like moments like this.”

the teasing reply you’d planned died on your lips as he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. when his lips finally met yours, it was sweet at first, a kiss that sent warmth flooding through your chest.

but then it deepened, his hands finding your waist as yours slid up to tangle in his curls. the kiss turned urgent, and soon you found yourself lying back, his weight shifting over you as his lips traveled to your jaw, then your neck.

your breath hitched, nerves suddenly rushing to the surface. you pulled back slightly, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“lando… wait,” you said, your voice barely audible.

he stopped immediately, sitting back on his knees as he looked down at you with wide, concerned eyes. “what’s wrong? did i—did i do something?”

you shook your head quickly, sitting up. “no, it’s not you. it’s just…” you hesitated, feeling your cheeks heat. “i’ve never done this before.”

his brows furrowed for a moment before realization dawned. “you mean… like, never ever?”

you nodded, already feeling embarrassed. “yeah. never ever.”

there was a beat of silence, and then—lando burst out laughing.

you smacked his arm, your face burning. “lando! don’t laugh at me!”

“i’m not laughing at you!” he said between breaths, holding up his hands in defense. “i’m just—really? you’ve been holding out this whole time? that’s impressive!”

“impressive?” you repeated, glaring at him.

“yeah!” he said, grinning now. “i mean, i thought i was going to have to work harder for this! you’ve been playing hard to get.”

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

“hey, hey,” he said, his laughter fading as he gently pulled your hands away. “i’m sorry, i’m just surprised. but seriously—it’s not a big deal.”

“it feels like a big deal,” you muttered.

“well, it shouldn’t,” he said firmly, his tone softening. “there’s nothing wrong with waiting, and it doesn’t make you weird or anything.” he paused, a cheeky grin creeping back onto his face. “although, it does make me feel special. i mean, out of all the people in the world, you chose me.”

“don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but smile.

“too late,” he said, leaning in to nudge your nose with his. “but seriously, we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

you looked at him for a long moment, taking in the sincerity in his eyes, the way his usually goofy demeanor had softened. slowly, you reached out, cupping his cheek. “i’m ready. if i’m going to do this, i want it to be with you.”

his expression shifted, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into a warm, slightly shy smile. “you’re sure?”

you nodded, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “i’m sure.”

lando grinned, his dimples making a reappearance as he kissed you again, his movements more deliberate this time. “alright,” he murmured against your lips. “but if you get scared, you tell me, okay?”

“okay,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

as the night went on, the laughter and teasing faded into something deeper, more intimate. lando was attentive, gentle, and when he whispered, “you’re amazing,” it felt like he wasn’t just talking about the moment but about you.

afterward, you lay curled against him, his arm draped over you as the credits to shrek 2 rolled in the background.

“so… was it worth missing the team dinner?” he asked, his voice filled with humor.

you laughed, burying your face in his chest. “definitely.”

“good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “because i don’t think zak would’ve let me live it down if i brought you back late.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar had always had a way of making everything feel easy. no pressure, no rush, just two people enjoying the moment. tonight, though, the tension was different, something heavier in the air as his eyes met yours with a soft intensity that made your heart race.

"hey," oscar said gently, his voice calm but with an edge of curiosity. "you okay?"

you nodded quickly, but your mind was whirling. he had that effect on you—making everything feel so natural and comfortable, but tonight, you could feel the weight of the moment. his hand brushed against yours, sending a shock through your chest, and you pulled your hand back slightly, biting your lip.

"actually," you started, your voice quieter than you’d intended, "there’s something i need to tell you."

oscar’s brows furrowed in concern, and he turned to face you fully, his body shifting to mirror yours as he gave you his undivided attention. "what is it?"

you hesitated, biting your lip as nerves bubbled in your stomach. "i’ve never…done anything like this before."

there, you said it. the words felt strange, vulnerable as they left your mouth. you could see the surprise flicker across oscar’s face, but he didn’t say anything right away. his expression softened, and instead of pulling back, he leaned in closer, gently taking your hand in his.

"you mean…" he trailed off, searching your face.

you nodded, the embarrassment creeping up your neck as you avoided his gaze. "yeah. i’ve never really… i don’t know how to do any of this."

oscar was quiet for a moment, but when he spoke, his voice was soothing, soft. "it’s okay. really, it is. there’s no pressure."

his words were like a balm to the anxiety that had suddenly surged through you. you had feared he’d think differently, but instead, he seemed genuinely relieved, even protective.

"you’re not… upset?" you asked, still unsure, a tinge of self-doubt lingering in your chest.

"upset?" he chuckled, but there was no mockery in his tone—just warmth and reassurance. "not even a little. honestly, i think it’s kind of sweet."

you blinked, surprised by his response. "sweet?"

"yeah," he grinned, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "you don’t have to know everything all at once. i like that you’re willing to take it slow. it makes this… well, it makes this special."

a sense of relief washed over you at his words, your heart lightening. the idea that he wasn’t seeing you as inexperienced or “behind” felt like a weight lifted.

"you’re really okay with this?" you asked, still half-doubting yourself.

"of course," he said softly. "if anything, i’m happy. we’re going to take it at your pace. no pressure."

oscar paused, his gaze searching yours, and you felt his sincerity in every word. the nervous energy you had been holding onto slowly began to dissipate.

you finally met his gaze, his calm eyes locking onto yours as he moved even closer, his hand gently resting on your leg. there was something about the way he was looking at you—something that told you he was as in this moment as you were.

"i want to do this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper but firm. "if i’m going to do this with anyone, i want it to be you."

oscar’s eyes widened slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "are you sure?" he asked, his voice soft, almost uncertain despite the way his hand traced small circles on your knee.

you nodded, feeling your heart race in a different way now. "yes. i trust you."

the corner of his lips lifted, and he leaned in slowly, kissing you softly, tenderly. there was no urgency, no rush. just the quiet comfort of two people wanting the same thing in the same moment.

oscar pulled away after a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "i’m really glad it’s with you," he murmured.

"me too," you whispered back, feeling completely at ease in his arms.

the moment continued, and while things didn’t escalate immediately, there was no pressure. everything felt right because you were together, and when you were ready, oscar was more than willing to take it slow, to make sure you felt safe, comfortable, and cared for every step of the way.

and when you finally reached that point, it was nothing like you had expected. it wasn’t dramatic or rushed—it was tender, affectionate, and everything you needed.

oscar kissed your forehead, his voice soft as he said, "you did amazing, you know that?"

you smiled, nestled in the crook of his arm. "i think we both did."

and in that moment, you both knew you’d take things as slow as you wanted—together, at your pace, with no rush.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[eraenaa]

Loathe to Love

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Seeking forgiveness is not a thing Aemond bothers himself with, but that quickly changes when he deeply offended you.

Warnings: ¿Softer Aemond?, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Targcest, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 6,411

Prequel: Blessed Curse

A/N: Based on a request where they wanted "Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, who, like her brothers, doesn't have Valyrian characteristics. A scene like at dinner, in which Aemond accuses his nephews of being strong and, consequently, his wife too." (!Not related to the past two fics that were Aemond x Reader Wife!)

A blessing or a curse? Neither of you knew how to take and label this marriage devised by your grandsire. It was a final plea to unite your estranged family, offering you as Aemond’s bride because the King’s fading mind was still set on how you and Aemond were entirely fond of each other in childhood. However, that sentiment had completely changed during the fateful night in Driftmark. Whatever fondness you and your uncle had in childhood had rolled away with the tides in your supposed father’s home. Affection turned into animosity, and animosity quickly turned into resentment.

However, with the marriage you and Aemond were succumbed to, you both tried your most ardent effort to work through past differences. And with half a year since your union, you and Aemond had almost fully buried the grievances you harbored against each other. Gone now was the reluctant prince who stood by the end of Sept waiting for his bride, who was practically dragged down the aisle. Looks of unbridled hatred had faded and turned to looks of passion and longing. Deep-rooted loathing was slowly fading into love that both of you had yet to admit to the other. 

You broke fast in the gardens with your husband, a daily tradition that you and him established since the first days of your marriage. Most of the time, it would be just the two of you, but on some days, you two would be joined by his siblings and his mother, who surprisingly did not hold such great bitterness for you when compared to other members of your kin. And on a day such as this, you were joined by the queen and her only daughter, Helaena. “I saw the maids preparing some of the guest chambers. Are we to host a lord and their house, my Queen?” You asked your mother through marriage with a tilt of your head, your hand intertwined with your husband’s under a table, hidden from anyone’s view. 

Aemond raised his eye from the book he was reading and placed it on his mother. “Not particularly guests… your mother and your brothers are set to visit,” She replied, and your brows shot up in surprise. Aemond turned to you, plush lips agape in shock. “Did you not know?” The queen asked, and you shook your head. “No… they had not written to me about such matters,” You said, your lips twitching into a smile of excitement as you had terribly missed our family. You turned to your husband; whatever reaction he had was hidden behind his ever-stoic expression. However, you did feel his hold on your hand grow tighter. Though his animosity towards you had died with every kiss shared and every hour spent in each other’s arms, you could not say that that would be the case for the other members of your family. You could practically feel the tantalizing anger within radiating off him. 

“I’m going to the tiltyard,” Aemond suddenly announced and abruptly stood up, making you sigh. His mother and sister nodded, but before his departure from breakfast, you felt him place a chaste kiss on your temple before walking off. Leaving you wide-eyed and blushing before his kin for neither of you had displayed such affections so openly. The touches and kisses and pleasures you shared were saved for the privacy of your marital chambers, and to have him do such an affectionate action in front of others was completely uncharacteristic of him. You lower your head as you feel your cheeks burn red, but if you had kept your head held up high, you would see a small smile on the queen’s lips, for she too was shocked and amused by her son’s actions. Never had she imagined for her favored son to find a wife that would bring out the warmth and tenderness in him that everyone believed to be lost the day his eye was taken by your younger brother.

For the rest of the day, you were busied with your engagements with the other ladies of the court to the point that the day had faded into the night. It was past the usual time of your supper, and you were certain your husband was preparing himself for bed, which is why it was a surprise when you entered your marital chambers with Aemond seated by the table where a meal for both of you lay, untouched. “You still have not eaten?” You asked as you stood behind your seat that was across your husband’s. “I was waiting for you,” Was all he said, as he motioned for you to sit. You blinked at him; the warm, flickering light of the fire illuminated his silver locks that were unique to your house but you had not inherited. The silhouette cast made his angular, Valyrian features more prominent, and you could not help but feel a small pang of jealousy, for you were never blessed with such acclaimed features that your house was celebrated for. 

You licked your lips and removed your gaze from your husband’s lilac eye. You took your seat and quietly watched him as he placed items of food onto your plate. “You should have eaten earlier,” you said quietly, knowing that Aemond’s last meal was the one you shared in the morning, for your husband did not eat luncheon nor any other small meal to aid him between the morning and the evening. “Like I’ve said, I was waiting for you,” He said as he poured wine into your chalice. You flashed him a small smile of gratitude, and like always, he gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. “How was your day?” You asked before taking a bit of the temped meal that had been waiting for you along with your husband. “Fine. I trained, I read, and then accompanied my grandsire with business,” he said and took a sip of wine. “And yours?” He asked, and you smiled as you began to recall your day. 

Aemond nodded along as he ate, and you went on to tell him about your day. He had no intention of telling you, but this was his second-most favorite time of each day. He quickly had gotten used to listening to you babble and tell him about the ventures you had just hours before. He had no particular care about the subjects of which you spoke of; all he cared about was hearing you speak. Watching you as you would reenact your encounters or how your expression would change when you told him about the latest gossip in court. He would always note how your voice would grow an octave higher when you spoke of an event you found most entertaining or exciting, and he loved gazing into your beguiling, brown eyes that would twinkle in the candlelight.

“Will you accompany me tomorrow?” You asked as you had finished retelling your day to your husband. “To where?” Aemond asked as he was slightly disappointed that you did not have many anecdotes to share that night; you would usually have prolonged stories that Aemond would listen attentively to until he had fished his meal. “To welcome my mother, father, and brothers by the pits when they arrive,” You say and play with the peas on your plate. Aemond was silent for a moment; you took in a deep breath and thought that perhaps your request was a bit much for him. Though you expected him to act civilly with your kin, wanting him to join you in welcoming them was perhaps a bit much. “Nevermind… I ca—“ Your husband interrupted your sentence. “I shall join you,” he said, and your lips agape in shock once more. 

Aemond bit his tongue to hinder himself from smiling widely at the expression that flashed before your pretty face. His urges announced himself as his eye caught your plump lips parted; amusement and arousal swirling within him. “You will?” You asked, making certain you had heard no false agreement. “My lady wife had made a simple request; of course, I shall oblige it,” He answered and felt his heart flutter as a beaming smile spread to your lips. Aemond felt fire in his veins as you stood from your seat and went to him to place a supposed chaste kiss on his lips, but Aemond wanted more. You gasped as you were pulled to sit on his lap, your kiss deepening with each moment and your body aching with need as Aemond’s hands were holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek. You feel your husband’s need through his trousers and through your dress. 

You moaned at the taste of wine on his tongue. His hand traveled toward your bosom, cupping your tit through the bodice of your dress, his fingers undoing the laces of your gown but the two of you never parted your intertwined lips. Aemond groaned as you accidentally bit his lip, but you would take it that he liked the occurrence as you felt his hips buck upwards and seek friction. Aemond reluctantly parted your lips to gasp for air; he watched you pant, eyes filled with longing and lust, lips swollen and shined with a glossy shine of him. 

You yelped as your husband punched you on the table, sweeping away the meal you two had just shared, the plates and cutlery falling onto the floor with a loud noise, but neither of you heard as you two were completely lost and dazed with want for each other. You pulled Aemond towards you as you wanted to feel his lips once more. Aemond had fully undone the laces of your gown, and you felt the sleeves of it draping off and the hem of it being risen by your husband. You hummed in question as you felt Aemond push you to lie down on the wooden table. You propped yourself by your elbows to see what he was doing. Your eyes locked with his lone one as he sank to his knees. The hem of your dress had bundled up to your waist, and Aemond placed his cold hands at each of your thighs. 

You bit harshly at your lower lip as he placed kisses on each side of your thighs, nipping the soft skin making you whimper at the stinging pain that he would immediately soothe with his tongue. “Aemond,” you called as he continued to tease you, his tongue licking strips upward to your needing heart but would abruptly stop before inching closer towards the place you need his tongue most. “Yes, wife?” He hummed, and you huffed as you sensed tease in his voice. “Please,” You pleaded in ancient tongue, and there was a long pause before he obliged your request. You breathed heavily as Aemond sucked on your delicate pearl, him humming in delight as he tasted your essence and as well to add to your pleasure. 

Your moans accompanied the crackle of the fire as Aemond inserted two of his fingers, him curling the calloused digits and spurring you quickly to your peak. You could not understand how he was so skilled in such endeavors, able to make you quickly come undone even though he confessed himself that before you, he had only laid with a woman once, on the behest of his older brother. 

Aemond smirked as he gazed at you laying on the table you two had your meals on, your pretty face that everyone tried to sell as plain still contorted in pleasure that he was the cause of. Aemond brought his fingers to his lips and sucked the essence of you clean, his other hand undoing the laces of his trousers as his cock painfully sought to be inside you. Aemond had always believed himself to be indifferent to the acts of intimacy, but he quickly learned that that sentiment was completely false when it came to you. On the night after your marriage, he had no plan to partake in the marital act, ready to cut his palm and pretend he beaded you so the court would not have a new gossip piece in the morning. However, that plan was quickly forgotten by just the sight of you undressing behind a divider. The candlelight illuminated your form and created a silhouette of your frame undressing and caused Aemond to need greatly. And ever since that night, the pleasures of the flesh he always thought he was indifferent to quickly turned, and he now harbored the same needing patterns he saw in his brother that he used to frown upon. 

Aemond locked your lips and assisted you off the table, you had thought he would lead you towards your bed, but you frowned through your kiss as he turned you around in his arms, your back resting against his chest, his pulsating length resting against your still hiked up gown. You feel Aemond’s lips move from your lip to your neck, his cold hands forcing your gown downwards and letting it pool at your feet, leaving you exposed. You whispered as his hands made their way to cup and squeeze your breast. The sensitive buds grew taut at the coldness of touch. You hear Aemond take in a deep breath of your scent, and you let out a bubbling moan as his length is placed in the crevice of your bottom, Aemond letting it glide in between your bum. 

You gasped in shock as you felt Aemond push you down onto the table, bending you over the sturdy wood and abruptly entering you without warning. You let out a wry moan as you did not know if you should focus on the pain or pleasure he gave. Aemond bit harshly at his lip as he was incredibly pleasured by the new angle he was taking you in, as well as the sight of you bent over the wooden table. He bundled your dark hair into his hands, feeling the soft silky waves and pulling on it and earning a moan from your lips and caused a further tightening in your cunt. “It would seem that my wife likes to be fucked like a common whore,” He gritted in between thrusts. Aemond knew he pleasured you well, but with this new position, your moans had only grown louder than the past times you had laid. Your cunt grew tighter and more wet, and you were quicker to come undone once more. 

“Yes… yes, Aemond! Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” You cried as he pounded at you from behind. Aemond griped the plump flesh of your behind, watching as the skin grew red from his hold; he moved his hands to your waist as he felt the urge of release coming to him as well. Your moans rang louder in his ears, his name slipping from your lips, urging him to come quickly than past nights. He groaned out your name as he spilled his seed deep inside you, hoping that his seed would finally take as he was already zealous with the thought of you swole with his child. Your dazed mind could barely comprehend Aemond assisting you up from your bent position because all your body could focus on was the peak you had reached and his lips against yours once more. You let your husband carry you to bed, him tucking you in his arms like always, and you drifted to sleep wholly satisfied. 

Aemond placed his gaze upon you, who was practically bouncing in excitement at your spot next to him. You two stood by the pits as a welcoming party for your kin. Aemond placed great restrain upon himself to not let his animosity show when he spotted your brothers landing your little dragons. “Sister!” He heard the boy who took his eye scream, and Aemond felt you let go of his hand to run to your brother. He did not want to entertain the small pang in his heart as you readily let go of his hold to run and warmly embrace the boy who had maimed him beyond repair, but he knew that with your marriage, whatever fondness and understanding you and Aemond had and will develop will be divided with your love for your true family. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” You gushed and kissed Lucerys’ cheek; you smiled widely that even though your brother was on the cusp of adolescence, he melted of talc and your mother’s oils. “Your favoritism is showing, sister,” You hear Jacaerys tease, and you sigh in amusement, letting go of Lucerys and moving to embrace your older brother. 

Aemond watched you as you greeted your family with such open warmth and love that he and his kin were never accustomed to. Aemond shifted his gaze to your younger brother, who had a wary look in his oak eyes. Aemond bit his cheeks as he stared down the boy who cowardly shifted his gaze and went closer to you, like a little scared pup hiding behind Aemond’s wife. 

“Where are Baela and Rheana?” You asked as you let go of your embrace of Jacaerys,  looking around the pits. “They went on the ship along with Joffery and the babes. They shall reach by nightfall,” he answered, and you nodded. Your brother’s gaze shifted between you and your husband, who stood by the side, “How… how are you, sister? Is…” He trailed as Aemond challenged his gaze. You gave him a small smile, “I’m fine, Jacaerys, perfectly fine, better now that you are all here.” You said, and Jacaerys hesitantly nodded, not completely believing your sentiments. “Tala,” You hear yourself being called by your stepfather, who stands beside your mother, and you hurriedly go in their direction. “My sweet girl!” Your mother smiled and kissed your cheek as you went to embrace her. “You look more cheery since we left you. Are they treating you well? Or do I have to behead that cunt of a husband that you have?” Daemon asked, and your smile faltered at his words. “Father,” You warned, and you heard him sigh. “They are treating me perfectly well,” You said, and just like Jacaerys, Daemond gave an unconvinced nod. 

You turn to Aemond, who still stands idly by the side; you make hastened steps towards your husband as members of your family remove their riding gear. “Do you wish to return to the keep?” You asked, learning he had grown bored and impatient. He turned his body to face you, his brow raised in question. “I could ride with them in the wheelhouse; you can return to your training if you wish,” You smiled. Aemond studied your eyes; he knew that the words you uttered were for his benefit, but he could not help but think it was you driving him away as you would rather spend time with your family than him. 

“It is not that I wish for you to leave, but if you would rather return to your training or reading, I would completely understand,” You added, and Aemond froze at your words; it was as if you could read his mind. He did not know how you did it, but you had this ability to know things about him without him even saying them out loud. He was quick to learn that you could see past his hardened exterior and see the intent and thoughts he kept to himself. You were the only person who knew him with such a deep level of understanding. “It is fine. I shall wait for you, and we could ride back together to the keep,” He said, and his cold heart ran warm as you flashed him with your beaming smile. 

“What did they do to her?” Jacaerys asked as he stood near his brother and parents. “That last time we were here, she was completely ready to sail off to Essos just to escape him,” he added, and Daemon shook his head, removing himself from the conversation as he, too, was perplexed at how you completely turned your views towards this marriage. “I believe that is what love does,” Rhaenyra sighed, and Daemon scoffed in ridicule from a distance, and Jacaerys quickly shook his head. “Love? You practically had to drag her down the aisle! That is not love… that is some work by a potion slipped into her wine!” Jacaerys disagreed, and your mother breathed out a laugh. “Believe what you want, but your sister is stronger than to let a potion alter her emotions; that affection is brought by love,” She sighed as she, too, was surprised by the outcome of this marriage but was entirely pleased to learn that you found love in a person that all believed had none. 

When all of you returned to the castle, your husband went straight to the tiltyard whilst your parents set off to visit your grandsire. You, however, accompanied your brothers as they wanted to tour around the keep that was once their home. Throughout your whole tour, you could not help but grow curious at the curious and prying glances thrown at the three of you that had faded during the moons of your return to the Red Keep. “They keep staring at us,” You hear Lucerys whisper to Jacareys, who still kept his head held high despite being in the den of vipers. 

“Ignore them,” You whispered to your younger brother. You smile as Jacaeyrs pulls Lucerys towards the tiltyard, hurriedly going down the steps to explore the place they used to frequent as children. You stood by the railings, your eyes catching the flutter of silver hair, your husband training with his sword along with Ser Criston, whom he battled with. You stood steady by your spot by the balcony that overlooks the tiltyard, leaning in on the railing as you watched Aemond impressively train with his sword. It was truly a wonder to watch Aemond with his sword; he was able to command the room with each swing and movement he did. Captivating everyone as he simulated the battlefield, even your brothers stopped their reminiscing to watch him train. Far was he from the little boy he tripped over his wooden sword and struggled to even keep it upright. 

“Well done, my prince, you will be winning tourneys at no time,” You hear Ser Kristen compliment the prince he had molded into a warrior as the tip of Aemond’s sword placed at the knight’s neck. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” You hear your husband reply as you descended down the stairs, making your way to your brothers. “Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked as you paused behind Lucerys and Jacaerys. Aemond’s challenging gaze turned to you, who announced her presence. You stared into his lilac eye and saw it somewhat softened. Aemond clenched his jaw and lowered his sword as the crowd that surrounded him began to dissolve. A clear path leading to you was made, and Aemond crossed it, forgetting about his want to challenge his nephews.

“You were most impressive with your sword,” You complimented lowly as you felt Aemond guide you to the side, and he placed his hand on your lower back. “I am glad that you found that impressive, little wife,” He hummed and wiped his sword, ignoring the stares of your brothers who stood by the side. “Perhaps I should wonder more often to the tiltyard; I would not want to miss an opportunity to watch my husband best the most acclaimed knights of the realm.” You feel your heart flutter as Aemond’s lips twitch into a small smirk. “Perhaps you should,” He said, unable to control the amusement that laced his voice and shinned brightly in his eye. 

“Do you believe what Mother says? That they are in love?” Jacaerys whispered to Lucerys, who looked at you smiling upon your husband, “I… I do not know, perhaps,” he whispered as he noted that the smile on your lips was no pretense nor was it forced. And the gleam in your eyes could only be translated into love. Lucerys shifted his gaze back to his brother as you walked off and Aemond returned to training. “But how? How could our sister love someone like him?” Jacaerys asked incredulously, his voice growing a bit louder. 

Aemond clenched his jaw as he heard your brother’s words. It was a danger to all that rage was quickly bubbling inside him, and he had a weapon in his hold. The one-eyed prince took in deep breaths to calm himself, reminding himself that you were just by the side waiting and watching him. 

But a gnawing feeling in his gut had settled, and he too started to wonder as to how you could ever love someone like him. It is no secret that you and he were raised with opposing views of the world and even clashing families as well. His mother never approved of how your mother had raised you; everything about yours and your brother’s conception and upbringing had brought shame upon the Targaryen name and reputation. And the years before were nothing short of hatred. Yes, the both of you were fond of each other in childhood, but is that enough to undo the following years of animosity and contempt? Will these past moons that were filled with shared understanding and longing be enough to undo the resentment of the past? 

It was enough for him. You were enough of a reason for him to let go of the grudges and grievances harbored. By some divine, paradoxical power, your blessed touch was the only touch that could tend and stitch Aemond’s broken past created by your own kin. Even with all the traditions and honor that were desecrated by your mere birth, Aemond could not help but love you, even if he had not said it out loud. No matter your differences, no matter the truth of your illegitimacy, he loved you truly. 

However, that overflowing affection he had towards you was for you and you alone. The civility he knew that he should display was slipping out from his hold as old hatred for your brothers was starting to wake, and Aemond was not entirely certain if he could control the burning rage in his veins once more. 

You sat next to your husband for a rare family dinner; it was the first time the whole of your clan had been together since your and Aemond’s wedding. You smiled fondly as Baela and Rhaena had already arrived along with your youngest brothers, who were now fast asleep in the nursery. You kept your secret hold on Aemond’s hand as the dinner proceeded, your heart full of joy as you wanted to erase the emotions you were feeling the last time the whole of the family was together with something more pleasant. Gone now was the hatred and agony you felt in your heart as your grandsire ordered your marriage with Aemond. The only thing you now felt for your husband was love. It could be considered ridiculous that with just half a year of marriage, all the deep-rooted anger and ire from the past had completely decimated and turned into blooming love, but that was the truth of it. 

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table.” The king said “The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.” His final plea for peace was supposed to be yours and Aemond’s marriage, but that seemed to do little for the others to bury the grievances made years before. Your hold on Aemond’s hand tightened as you Grandsire removed his mask and exposed his decaying face. “My own face is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king… But your father.” He said and turned to his children, “Your brother,” the king turned to Daemon. “Your husband,” he said to the queen. “And your grandsire.” He finished turning to you and your siblings. “Who may not, it seems…walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts.” He ended. 

You were so entrapped by the speech given by your grandsire that you had not even realized that in the midst of that heartfelt moment, your husband was having a contest of stares amongst your brothers. Not a word by the king affected nor lessened the hatred in their hearts for each other. 

You watched and listened intently as toast from both sides of your families started to circulate to the table, obliging the king’s request for civility and the possibility of unification for your house. By the end of the toasts, the intimate feast once more commenced, and your smile only grew with each passing moment of peace. However, it was quickly taken from you as a roasted pig was placed in front of you and Aemond, our gaze flying to your younger brother, who snickered as he recalled the cruel jest they made at Aemond’s expense years before. “Lucerys,” you hissed sharply in warning. Your heart skipped a beat as your husband let go of your hold and slammed his clenched fist on the table, rendering the room silent. “Final tribute,” He announced, the attention of the entire room upon him. 

“To the health of my nephews. Jace… Luc… and Joffery,” He began, and you felt your hands grow cold at his words, already knowing where this would lead. “Each of them handsome, wise…” He trailed, catching your eyes that pleaded for him to stop and not speak of offense. He, however, ignored your pleas. “Strong,” He ended, and you feel your heart painfully pit in your chest. Your gaze flew to your lap, and you softly shook your head in disappointment, for you had foolishly believed that your husband would at least grow somewhat sensitive at the matter of you and your brother’s true paternity. “Come. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys!” He announced, and you felt a painful twist in your stomach. 

The peaceful meal between your kin that you had longed for had turned ugly and violent; you shook your head as your husband and his brother, along with your brothers, waltzed back into old patterns and began to brawl and fight each other. You shook your head and stood from your seat, quietly exiting the room and leaving the fight that the other tried to break up. Aemond watched your departing figure, disappointment oozing off your frame as you exited the hall. He turned to your brothers' red and angered faces, and it only dawned upon him the severity of his offense. He was ready to go after you, but his mother pulling on his arm hindered him, the queen scolding her grown son as if he were a boy. 

Moments after, Aemond rushed to your chambers in dire need to speak with you, but you were not there. Aemond walked the darkened corridors of the keep, searching every spot you would frequent but to no avail. Aemond halted in his steps as he heard footsteps and voices approaching. “I’ve told you that they were not suited for each other,” Aemond heard your stepfather say, voice enraged. “You saw how openly he disparaged and humiliated her and her siblings— what more if they were behind closed doors?” Daemon seethed, him having half the mind to march to the king and demand an annulment of your marriage with Aemond.

Aemond clenched his fists in anger as he heard how low the opinion of your stepfather had of him, but that anger was being overpowered by guilt as he recalled your pleading face earlier as you quietly begged him not to speak offense. But Aemond could no longer control himself as being in the presence of your brothers brought back the uninhibited rage he genuinely thought he could control for your sake. Aemond took in a deep breath and stomped off, determined to find you. He scoured the entirety of the keep in search of you, with each passing moment that you were not found added to his guilt and the pang in his chest. It was nearing the hour of the wolf, and Aemond still had not found you. Aemond rarely felt fear; he refused to be in fear of anything, but just by just the mere hours of your absence had him drowning in dread and despair.

Aemond thought of retiring back to your chambers and perhaps try to find you when the sun had risen, but his body could not physically rest without your presence. Aemond found him straying towards the gardens, his feet carrying him towards the weirwood tree that you two had often frequented in childhood. He halted in his steps as he heard quiet sobs and sniffling, his knees growing weak at the sight of your body curled upon the trunk of the tree, your face in your hands as you tried to stifle your sobs. Aemond made cautious steps towards you, swallowing thickly as he had never succumbed to such guilt and pain before; it was unbearable to see you cry— more so for he knew that the reason for your tears was him. 

Aemond felt his breathing caught in his throat as you lifted your gaze, and your bloodshot eyes met his. “Why?” You managed to ask, your voice hoarse and filled with emotion. It was too much; Aemond wanted to fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness; he could not take the way you stared up at him with such great sadness. “Why… why would you do such a thing? Why could you not l…” You could not even make yourself finish your words as a bubbling sob of angered sadness took over you. You tightly shut your eyes as Aemond fell on his knees before you, trying to take hold of your hand, but you over away from his touch. 

“I know of the resentment you have for my siblings— for me because we are bastards and because Lucerys had taken your eye. It was foolish for me to think that with our marriage, perhaps that enmity in you would lessen or at least be concealed enough that you would not seek out revenge so… so openly and as well as disparage me and my honor,” You say, your voice shaking as you try to take hold of your cries. “I did not mean to offend you; that was not aimed toward you,” Aemond said, and you shook your head. “They are my brothers, Aemond. Questioning their paternity means to question mine as well. Wounding them would be wounding me as well,” You countered and shook your head as Aemond moved to take hold of your hands. 

“I… I know it is difficult for you to be subjected to a room with my kin— especially my brothers, but could you not have let this one-night slide past peacefully? I am not seeking out your forgiveness; I was just hoping for something that resembled peace, just for one night,” You said lowly, voice trembling with your sobs and the cool night air that gusted around the gardens. Aemond sighed and rested his head against your clasped hands, still on his knees as you sat before him dejectedly. “I’m… I’m sorry, my love,” He whispered, and you froze, trying to decipher if you had heard him correctly. Never once had you heard him apologize nor use such an endearment. 

“I apologize. I was consumed by my anger, and I could not control my rage. I should have kept my composure,” He said and looked up at your face, tear-stained cheeks flushed with sadness, bloodshot eyes in question, and pink lips agape in mystification. “I’m sorry,” Aemond said once more and placed a kiss on your knuckles. The word felt foreign on his tongue, but at the same time, it rolled effortlessly as he knew it would be his saving grace not to lose you. You sat quietly, uncertain what to reply, though you had been enveloped in rage and sorrow, by Aemond’s actions, it somehow miraculously faded by his words and touch. 

“You called me ‘love’,” was all you could manage to say, the word still ringing in your ears even though you knew you should focus on the other matter. Aemond scrunched his brows as he gazed at your face, “I… I suppose I did,” He said, not even realizing the word slipped out his lips. He had been wanting to call you that endearment for weeks now, but he thought you would not take it well or that the softness and affection of it would lessen his stoic exterior. “Do you love me?” You could not help but ask, preparing yourself for the blow if it proves that your judgment was false. Aemond’s cold hands turned a degree colder as you asked the question. With each moment of silence, you feel your heart pit further, your mind scolding you for asking such a query. After another moment of prolonged silence, you sighed and were ready to stand, ready to mourn a different type of sadness. 

“Of course I do,” Aemond finally spoke, “I love you,” He added, determined for you to believe his words. You were stunned at his confession that words eluded you, and all you could do was pull him close and kiss his lips. “I do not care about your paternity. I don’t think I ever truly did… I only acted as such to appease my mother and her father. And I know I have played the part well, acting as if I harbor loathing for you ever since childhood, but I could never resent you, not truly.” Aemond sighed as your lips parted, and you smiled widely against his lips. Tears of melancholy turned into tears of glee. 

“You love me,” You mused as you cupped his cheeks, your thumb gently brushing the raised skin of his scar. “I love you.” Aemond confirmed, and he hummed as you kissed his lips once more. The events at supper were long forgotten as you and he finally shared the affection you both harbored long ago but were just too afraid to say out loud. 

[windser]

the first time sylus gave you access to his home at your leisure, his finger had curled under your chin to prompt it to raise until your gazes met. he'd told you to use it whenever you felt like it— to use it when he was gone, if you were feeling lonely or just wanted to curl up into the plush lining of his mattress and the high thread count of his sheets. but his eyes wanted most for you to stay and never leave.

you found it easier than expected to find yourself wandering back to his home. which frankly was no easy feat given that it was housed in the n109 zone. yet, more frequently sylus began receiving pictures of his refrigerator fully stocked with your favorite snacks. other times, he would receive text messages and phone calls while you were buried underneath the comforter of his bed. it was simultaneously the best and worst thing, for he knew you were okay in the boundaries of his home, but he hadn’t properly asked you to make it your home yet.

when he returned home to the secluded location, there a slow gait to his steps, but it was alright - because he was smothered in you. your arms had immediately been around him with his chin tucked into your shoulder so he could get a better grip on the scent he had craved throughout the hours you had been apart.  

it fell into a routine after that and was no longer a request that needed reminders. sylus didn’t have to ask if he needed to clear a drawer in the bedroom dresser or space in the master bathroom because you were already there nearly every night, your knees digging into his stomach while you were sleeping until he grumpily grumbled and pushed them down, your shoes left by the front door, your toothbrush lying around. mephisto's shadow edging closer by each night until he learns to sleep with the light hum of machinery above his head.

he couldn’t find it in him to complain because there was nothing to grouse about. you were in his house, your shampoo lingered on his pillow, and he could walk through the front door to find you lounging on the couch. 

“why do I always seem to find you like this, sweetie?” he asked one particular late night after finishing his affairs for the night. he let out a soft groan, a small but noticeable sign of vulnerability that was reserved just for your shared proximity as he lowered to be able to get to a height that suited your resting form. 

“mmm?” you mumbled through a cloud of exhaustion. “me on the couch?”

sylus chest rumbled softly with a chuckle, brushing the mussed hair away from your eyes. “yes, kitten, you fell asleep on the couch. come, let’s get you up." 

but you had fallen still to his advances to tuck his insistent hands despite your sluggish resistance to help hoist you to your feet. you peered up at him through blinking eyelashes, assessing his gaze while you intertwined your fingers around his. "i like the couch, sy,” you whispered softly, “i like everything about your home." 

he paused, tongue suddenly heavy with the weight of words he'd been harboring for weeks. "do you enjoy it enough to stay here permanently and bicker with me about who ate the last imported candies? or if one of us remembered to let mephisto back in?" 

”‘course, sy.“ you buried your fingers deeper into his hair and watched as his eyelids fluttered shut in relief. "i love wherever you are." 

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗.

mom's fiancé/bf! joel miller x f! reader • part two • part three

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, nsfw, p in v unprotected, breeding kink.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ me writing angst?? wow could never imagine it. i hope you guys like this i dunno what came over me. almost 7k (oops) words of hurt confusion and a filthy finish to dry your tears. not proofread!!

The house smelled like home, like it always had. Fresh cut grass from the lawn, the faint scent of laundry detergent, and the crisp autumn air breezing in through the windows. But the warmth that had once filled it felt absent now, replaced by the coolness of change. A change you hadn’t been able to brace for. Your mother had finally met someone after years of being alone, and that someone was Joel Miller.

You sat at the kitchen table, your fingers trailing the edge of your mug, staring at the steam rising from your coffee. The engagement ring on her finger glinted as she poured a second cup of coffee, smiling to herself. You couldn’t take your eyes off it—the gold band, the small, delicate stone. Joel had chosen it.

"Can you believe it?" she said, laughing lightly. "I didn’t think I’d find someone after your father. But Joel... he’s good to me."

You swallowed hard. "Yeah, Mom. I can tell."

You knew he was good to her. You saw it every time they were together. The way he would brush his hand over her back when he passed her, the way he’d laugh at her jokes. The way she looked at him, like he was everything she had wanted but had never thought to ask for.

But that wasn’t what twisted the knife in your chest.

Joel had always been more than just a neighbor. You’d been only nineteen when you started noticing him, the way a girl starts to notice a man—how his shoulders would flex when he lifted something heavy, the rasp in his voice when he spoke to you, low and careful. He was rough around the edges, with that Southern drawl and hands scarred from years of work. A part of you had always wondered what those hands would feel like on you, against your skin, but you never let the thoughts go far. He was older, after all, and back then, it had been nothing more than an innocent crush. But now he was here, in your life in a way you hadn’t imagined, not as some distant neighbor or a fleeting thought, but your mother’s fiancé. The reality of it made your stomach churn, and you hated yourself for the way your heart still skipped a beat whenever he came around.

"I’m glad you like him," your mom continued, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. She took a seat across from you, her eyes soft with affection. "I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this, but... it means a lot to me that you’re okay with it." You forced a smile, the tightness in your chest growing. "Of course. I just want you to be happy." She reached out and touched your hand. "I am."

You wished you could say the same.

The days stretched into weeks, each one bringing you closer to the wedding. The house buzzed with preparations, your mother caught up in a whirlwind of joy and excitement. You tried to blend into the background, to stay out of the way, but it was impossible. Every time you turned around, Joel was there, a steady, looming presence.

One afternoon, you found yourself out in the yard, helping your mom plant some new flowers along the fence. The sun was high in the sky, the heat beating down on your skin. You wiped the sweat from your forehead, focusing on digging the next hole. "Need some help?" Joel’s voice came from behind you, making you jump. You turned, finding him standing there with a shovel in hand, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. He was wearing a faded flannel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the sinewy muscles of his forearms. His hair was streaked with gray at the temples, his face lined with years of hard work and sun exposure, but he was still undeniably handsome. Too handsome.

"No, we’re good here," you replied, keeping your voice steady as you turned back to the soil. Your mom looked up from her spot, grinning. "Actually, Joel, I think we could use a little extra muscle." He chuckled and came over, kneeling beside you, close enough that you could smell the scent of earth and sweat on him. His presence was overpowering, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep your mind from drifting.

"So," he said casually, his voice low as he worked beside you, "you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alright?" You felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t look up. "Yeah, 'm just busy."

"Busy, huh?" He tossed a clump of dirt aside, his tone teasing but not unkind. "You don’t strike me as the busy type." You shrugged. "Things change." Joel paused, his fingers still in the dirt. "That they do." There was a weight to his words, the way he said it, something that settled deep in your bones, like he knew what was deep beneath your facade. You risked a glance at him, and when your eyes met, the air around you seemed to thicken. His gaze was too intense, too knowing, and it made your heart pound in your chest. "Joel, could you help me with these pots in the back?" your mother called, oblivious to the tension that had been steadily growing between you and him.

Joel blinked, breaking the moment. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Yeah, sure thing." As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You couldn’t keep going like this.

Temptation lurks.

The engagement party was held at your house, the backyard filled with neighbors, friends, and family. You had helped set everything up, stringing lights across the trees, setting up tables with white linen. Your mother had been glowing all day, her happiness contagious to everyone but you.

You were standing near the bar, sipping on a drink when you saw him. Joel was talking to your uncle by the grill, his hand resting casually on the back of your mother’s chair. You watched as he laughed at something your uncle said, the sound of it rumbling low in his chest. He looked so at ease, so comfortable in this life he had built with your mom. But there was a crack in the facade, something that only you could see. The way his eyes flickered to you, even when he was mid-conversation. The way his smile faltered just for a moment when your gaze met his.

he feels it.

"You look lost in thought." You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. Joel was beside you now, his presence like a shadow that followed you everywhere. You forced a smile. "Just thinking." He leaned in a little closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Care to share?" You shook your head, setting your glass down on the bar. "It’s nothing."

Joel’s hand brushed yours as he reached for his own drink, the touch so brief and fleeting, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. He must have felt it too because he hesitated for a moment, his fingers lingering a second too long before he pulled away. "You seem different, sweetheart." he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to figure you out. sweetheart. it sounded so natural, meant just for you. "Not like yourself." He continues. You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. "Maybe I’ve changed. Or maybe you don't know me that well."

"Maybe," he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. "But I think I know you better than that." Before you could respond, your mother appeared, smiling brightly as she slipped her arm around Joel’s waist. "There you are!" she said, looking between the two of you. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

Joel’s eyes never left yours. "Just catching up."

You excused yourself quickly, retreating inside the house, your chest tight with frustration and confusion. You needed air, space, anything to clear your head. But no matter how far you ran, you couldn’t escape the way Joel made you feel. The way you wanted to feel, despite everything.

everything beneath the surface.

The weeks leading up to the wedding were a blur. You kept your distance from Joel as much as you could, but it was impossible to avoid him completely. Every time you saw him, the tension between you grew stronger, pulling you in even when you wanted to push it all away. One evening, after a particularly long day of wedding planning, you found yourself alone on the back porch. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You sipped your drink slowly, trying to let the cool night air calm your nerves.

"You okay?"

You turned to find Joel standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. You hadn’t even heard him come out. You straightened up, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’m fine. Just needed some air." Joel stepped onto the porch, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, his hands in his pockets as he looked out into the yard. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. "You’ve been avoidin’ me," he said quietly, his voice low and rough in the quiet night. Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t deny it. "It’s not like that."

"Then what’s it like?" You sighed, setting your drink down and standing up, needing to put some space between you. "Joel, this... it’s complicated. I can’t—"

"Complicated," he repeated, his tone tinged with frustration. He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "It wasn’t complicated before, was it?"

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. His words hit you like a punch to the gut because they were true. It hadn’t always been complicated. Before your mother, before the engagement, there had been something between you and Joel that had lingered, unspoken, for years. Maybe it had been innocent at first, just a crush you’d had on the older man next door. But it had evolved into something else—something dangerous.

"Joel," you whispered, shaking your head, trying to regain control of the conversation, but he was already too close. His presence overwhelmed you, drowning out the rational part of your brain that screamed for you to walk away.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" His voice was almost a whisper now, and the way his eyes bore into yours made it impossible to look away. "I’ve seen the way you look at me, baby." You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. "This isn’t fair," you managed, your voice breaking. "You’re marrying my mom, Joel." He winced, as if the words had physically hurt him, but he didn’t back away. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "I know I shouldn’t feel this way. Goddamn it, I tried not to. But I can’t help it, baby, Iㅡ" You took a step back, trying to create some distance, but Joel followed, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached out, brushing your arm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Don’t—"

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his hand dropping, but his eyes were still fixed on you. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. Should've been ya."

"Then why did it happen?" you asked, your voice breaking with the weight of the question. "Why are you doing this, Joel? Why are you marrying her?" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not what you think."

"Then tell me," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. "Tell me why you’re with her when—"

"When I want you," Joel finished for you, the rawness in his voice making your heart ache. The admission hung between you, heavy and undeniable. You wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard it, that it didn’t mean anything, but it did. It meant everything.

Your breath hitched as you stared up at him, the world tilting on its axis. You felt the pull between you, that magnetic force that had always been there, but now it was more dangerous than ever. It wasn’t just some unspoken tension anymore. It was real, out in the open, threatening to tear everything apart. "Joel, this isn’t right," you said, your voice trembling, even though your heart screamed at you to move closer to him. "It can’t happen. Not like this."

"I know," he said, stepping closer, his voice barely a rasp. His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "But that doesn’t change how I feel." You pulled your hand away, the loss of contact almost painful. "You have to stop," you whispered, your throat tight. "You have to marry her. You can’t do this to her." The agony in his eyes was unbearable. "You think I don’t know that?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your pulse racing. "Then why are you doing this?"

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, like he couldn’t bear to face the truth. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost broken. "I thought I could love her the way she deserves. I thought... if I just tried hard enough, I could make it work." Your heart ached for him, for your mother, for yourself. "But you don’t, do you?"

His silence was answer enough.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay strong. "You need to go through with the wedding, Joel. My mom... she loves you. She’s happy."

"I know," he murmured, the weight of his guilt evident in his voice. "But what about you? What do you want?" The question hung in the air, suffocating you. What did you want? You wanted him, but not like this. Not in a way that would destroy everything around you. Not in a way that would hurt your mother, who had already been through enough pain. "I want my mom to be happy," you said finally, even though the words felt like they were tearing you apart. "That’s all." even if it was a lie.

Joel stared at you, his expression unreadable, before he finally nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too." He stepped back then, creating the distance you desperately needed. "I’ll do the right thing," he said, his voice low and resolute. "For her." he wouldn't believe himself either.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice to say anything else. The weight of the moment settled over you both, heavy and oppressive. Without another word, Joel turned and walked back into the house, leaving you standing alone on the porch, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

It was all ready to collapse.

The wedding day approached faster than you had anticipated, each moment feeling like a countdown to an inevitable disaster. You tried to bury your feelings, to focus on helping your mom with the final touches, but the weight of what had been left unspoken between you and Joel hung over everything. You hadn’t spoken to him since that night on the porch, and the tension gnawed at you.

The morning of the wedding was bright and warm, the sun filtering through the lace curtains in your bedroom. You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the soft fabric of your bridesmaid’s dress, trying to shake the growing sense of dread that settled in your chest.

You wanted to be happy for your mom—she looked radiant, glowing in her wedding dress, and she deserved this moment. She deserved love, peace, after the years of struggle she’d endured. But underneath your forced smiles and quiet congratulations, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel. About his eyes when he looked at you, about the unspoken words still hanging between you.

Downstairs, the house sung with excitement, guests gathering for the ceremony. You could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music, the clinking of glasses as the day unfolded. But it all felt so distant, like you were watching it from the outside, detached from the joy that filled the air.

Just as you were about to head downstairs, there was a soft knock at your door.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. You already knew who it was before you even opened the door. Joel stood there, looking as conflicted as you felt. He was dressed in a suit, but the usually rugged man looked uncomfortable in the formal attire. His hair was neatly combed, but there was still that familiar edge to him—rough, worn, and undeniably Joel.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you, his dark eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite name. "You look beautiful."

"You shouldn’t be here," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I know," he said, his voice low. "But I had to see you. Before—"

"Before what?" you interrupted, your hands trembling. "Before you marry my mom?" Joel’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice barely audible. "For all of this. For... for everything I’ve put you through." Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "You have to go through with it, Joel. You promised her."

"I know," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But I can’t stop thinking about you." The rawness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to stay strong. "You don’t get to do this now," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Not today." Joel’s hand reached for yours, but you pulled away, stepping back. "Don’t," you warned. "Please don’t make this harder than it already is." He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with regret, before he finally nodded. "I’m sorry," he said again, his voice breaking. "I’ll... I’ll go."

You watched as he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall, each one like a nail in the coffin of what could have been.

Unbeneath.

The wedding was beautiful. The flowers were perfect, the music soft and sweet, and your mother’s face glowed with happiness as she walked down the aisle. Joel stood at the altar, looking handsome and calm, the picture of a man ready to commit to a life with her.

But you saw the cracks beneath the surface. You saw the tension in Joel’s shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as your mother approached him with a radiant smile. You knew he was trying to hold it together, trying to play the part of the perfect groom. But deep down, you could see it—he wasn’t entirely there.

Standing as a bridesmaid near the altar, you forced yourself to smile, to focus on your mother’s joy. But it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. The weight of what Joel had said to you that morning still clung to you, heavy and suffocating. As the officiant began to speak, your heart pounded in your chest. The words felt hollow, echoing in your mind. The vows of eternal love, of commitment, of being faithful—it all felt like a lie. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stay focused, trying to hold on for your mother’s sake.

But then Joel glanced at you.

It was brief—just a flicker of his eyes in your direction, but it was enough to make your breath catch. His gaze was filled with conflict, guilt, and something else you couldn’t name. And in that moment, you knew—he was thinking about you. Even here, even now, when he was supposed to be pledging his life to your mother.

Time seemed to slow as the officiant asked Joel to recite his vows. He hesitated for just a second too long, the pause so subtle that no one else seemed to notice. But you did. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between doing what was right and doing what he wanted.

"I, Joel, take you—" His voice caught, barely noticeable, but you saw it. He cleared his throat, trying again. "I take you, to be my wife."

Each word felt like a stone dropping into a bottomless well.

Your mother smiled at him, tears of joy in her eyes. She was completely unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. She believed in this moment, believed in the future they were about to share. And you hated that you couldn’t give her that same belief, that you couldn’t share in her happiness.

When the ceremony ended and the guests erupted in applause, you clapped along with them, your hands numb and mechanical. The celebration carried on around you—people laughing, clinking glasses, congratulating the happy couple—but you felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath you.

At the reception, you stayed at the far end of the garden, away from the crowd. The string lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow on the scene, but the beauty of it all felt distant, unreachable. You sipped your champagne, staring blankly at the dance floor where Joel and your mother swayed together. They looked perfect, like a picture from a magazine. But you knew better.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Joel came up beside you, his presence like a storm cloud looming on the horizon. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and there was a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"You disappeared on me," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the music and chatter. You didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the dance floor. "Just needed a moment." He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I didn’t mean for things to get this way. Please believe me, I didn’t knowㅡ didn't know she'd fall." You finally turned to face him, the rawness of his words cutting into you. "Well, they are and she did so.."

Joel looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache, the same look he’d had earlier that morning. "I can’t stop thinking about you, baby." he repeated softly, his voice rough with emotion. "Even now. Especially now."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "You need to stop," you whispered, your voice trembling. "You made your choice. You married her. I don't even know what your plan was."

"I know," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "I know what I did, but that doesn’t change what I feel. It doesn’t change this." He gestured between the two of you, his eyes pleading. "I never wanted to hurt you, or your mom. But... I can’t pretend anymore. Not with you." Your chest tightened, the pain almost unbearable. "You have to pretend, Joel. You have to. For her." He stared at you, his expression torn between guilt and desire. "And what about you? What about us?"

"There is no us, Joel. Never was." You said the words like poison in your mouth. "There can’t be." Joel’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing your arm, and the familiar spark shot through you, the one you’d tried so hard to ignore. His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled away, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"You’re right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "There can’t be." But the words felt like a lie the moment they left his lips because despite everything, despite the weight of his new vows, you saw him lean in closer. His breath mingled with yours, and his eyes-filled with guilt, longing, and desperation bore into you. His lips inched toward yours, the world around you fading into a blur of muted colors and distant laughter. People were far enough to not see you, but that didn't make it any easier. Your heart pounded, your breath shaky as you felt the warmth of his body close to yours. You knew this was wrong, that you should push him away, but your body betrayed you. The yearning, the suppressed need that had lingered between you for years, finally pushed through the cracks.

With one last glance into your glassy eyes, as if seeking permission-or maybe forgivenessㅡ Joel closed the distance.

His lips intertwined with yours, soft and rough at the same time, filled with everything that had been left unsaid. You froze for a moment, the shock of it crashing through you like a tidal wave. But then something snapped inside you, and you kissed him back. All of the restraint, the pain, the buried feelings surged to the surface, spilling into that one kiss.

His hands cupped your face gently, his touch tender despite the intensity of the moment. The world around you ceased to exist. It was just you and Joel, a stolen moment in a sea of impossibilities. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as if both of you knew this would be the only time you'd have. As if the kiss had to say everything words couldn't

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, reality crashed back in. You broke away, gasping for air, your chest heaving. The warmth of his touch still lingered on your skin. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Finally, Joel stepped back, his face hardening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I’m sorry," he muttered, though you knew the apology wouldn’t fix anything.

You watched as he walked away, back to the party, back to your mother—the woman he had chosen. The woman he was supposed to love. Your heart broke all over again as you realized that no matter what you felt for him, no matter what he felt for you, it would never be enough to change the reality of the situation.

And so, you stood there, the cold night air brushing against your skin, watching as Joel rejoined the celebration. The sounds of laughter and music filled the garden, but all you could hear was the silence between you and the man you could never have.

Was one night really that important?

You stood there, alone in the shadows, the air growing colder around you. The question gnawed at you, refusing to let go. What harm could it do? One night. One moment where none of thisㅡ none of the guilt, the secrecy, or the heartbreak mattered. No one would know. No one had to.

Would it really hurt?

The thought was reckless, dangerous even, but it lingered, growing more persistent with each passing second. Your mind kept replaying the way Joel had kissed you, the heat and desperation in his touch, the wayyou had kissed him back without hesitation, as if your bodies knew what your hearts refused to admit. You hadn't wanted to stop. And he hadn't either.

Your breath quickened as you thought of him, standing there, so close you could still feel the faint echo of his warmth, his scent, the way he had made you feel as though the world had disappeared, as if nothing else mattered but the f you, in that moment.

No. You couldn't. You couldn't do this to your mother. You couldn't betray her like that, not even for one night, no matter how desperately you wanted him. But the longing was still there, a dark ache deep in your chest, making it harder and harder to ignore. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath and looked back toward the reception toward Joel, who was now standing by the bar, talking with a few guests. The smile he gave them was easy, practiced, but you could still see the shadows under his eyes. You could still see the guilt that gnawed at him from the inside.

What if nobody knew? What if this one mistake, this one selfish moment, stayed just between the two of you? What if you could find a way to make it work-just for one night, just to feel what it was like to truly have him without the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders?

You swallowed hard. you could still taste his kiss on your lips. You could still feel the burn of his fingertips against your skin.

But then, you remembered your mother's face. Her warmth. Her trust. She was so happy, so completely in love. The thought of betraying her, even just for a moment, tore you apart. Could you really live with that kind of guilt?

No.

Butㅡ

You closed your eyes and exhaled, trying to quiet the storm inside you, trying to remind yourself of what was right. This wasn't a fleeting desireㅡ it was a devastating disaster waiting to happen

And yet, your body ached with the need to be close to Joel again. The yearning, the intensity of that single kiss and one pathetic touch, it was too much to ignore. You had given in once, but you couldn't go down that path again.

You took a step away from the garden, retreating into the shadows. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe one night wasn't worth it. But then you heard his voice, low and familiar, cutting through the noise. He was closer than you expected.

"Hey."

You froze, your heart stuttering in your chest. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Joel. His voice was all too familiar now. He stepped into the shadows with you, the dim light casting sharp lines across his face, making him appear even more worn, more conflicted. "Iㅡ" He hesitated, his voice thick with emotion. "I shouldn't have kissed you earlier. I know I shouldn't have."

You didn't say anything. You couldn't. You didn’t regret it. You wish it never ended.

Joel's gaze softened, and he stepped closer, but you kept your distance. He seemed to notice the space between you, the invisible barrier that neither of you wanted to cross but couldn't help but feel. "I don't know what to do anymore," he said. "I just know I don't want to lose you." His words shattered what little resolve you had left.

And in that moment, everything that had been building between you, the unspoken, the impossibleㅡ became undeniable. It was wrong. It was selfish. But here he was, standing before you, asking you for something you both knew you could never truly have. And for a moment, it didn't matter that it was wrong

You let out a shaky breath, your voice barely a whisper. "One night," you murmured. "Just... one night."

Joel froze. His eyes searched yours, and for a second, it seemed as if he might say no. But then his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him, his lips catching yours in a kiss that was deeper this time, hungry, urgent. There were no more words between you, just the frantic need to close the distance between your hearts, to feel something real, even if it was only for one night.

As his hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer, there was a fleeting moment of clarity,a brief flash of the consequences. But it was swallowed up by the heat of the kiss, the intoxicating feeling of finally giving in to the desire that had been burning between you for years,

It was wrong. It was a mistake

But as Joel's lips moved against yours again, you forgot about everything else. Joel’s hand slid to your wrist before you could pull away, a firm, steady grip that tugged you gently toward him, toward the quiet behind the chaos. The party’s laughter and chatter were left in the distance, fading as you followed him, the night air thick with tension.

"We should go to a room," he whispered, his voice hoarse and urgent, almost pleading. "The party still has a few more hours before it ends. Don't worry, baby. It'll all be okay. She won’t even notice we're gone." You looked at him, heart racing, mind reeling, torn between the gravity of his words and the electric heat still burning in your chest from the kiss. He was leading you, his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you through the garden, toward the back of the house where the guest rooms lay hidden behind thick foliage and shadows.

You followed, not because you were sure, but because the pull between you was undeniable. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, and maybe you didn’t want to. His pace quickened as he sensed your hesitation, his breath hitching, more desperate now, as though he needed you to understand. "We can’t keep doing this," he said, his tone a mix of anger and longing. "We can’t keep pretending like we don’t feel it. This—" he glanced back at you, "this is what we've been needing for so long."

You could barely catch your breath as you stepped into the hallway of the house, away from the party. The muffled noise of music and chatter was barely a memory now. The quiet was heavier, more intimate. And when you finally stopped, your back pressed against the closed door of a guest room, you both stood there in the dim room, hearts pounding like they were about to burst.

His hands were still on you, strong but gentle, but this time, they didn’t move to pull you in. Instead, he lingered, his fingers barely grazing the skin of your arms as though he was afraid of breaking something fragile—something that might never be repaired.

"Joel..." Your voice was soft, porcelain, and it trembled in the stillness of the room. "Please.." you can hear him mumble a soft 'fuck' before his lips crash onto the exposed skin on your neck, his hands roaming your body like he's been waiting to do this for a thousand years. he quickly manages to discard the jacket of his tuxedo and unzip the back of your dress, your hair that was neatly pulled up now down on your shoulders. "You're so beautiful, baby. Always have beenㅡ god, I was so stupid not doin' this earlier." Your mind reeled, cunt pulsimg. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breath, trying to steady your pulse. the fire between you crackled and burned hotter, and for tonight, you gave into it.

"Joel, please, justㅡ touch me, please.." he nods his head. "fuck, yeah, okay. You sound so pretty when you're desperate." you shudder at his words, a soft moan slipping from your lips. " 'm gonna fuck you tonight 'n make up for all of the nights i didn't." that was a promise.

you were now almost fully naked, the only thing covering your body was a soft, laced, white set you had on. "Pretty girl." he begins to discard those items from you too, but removes only the bra, leaving the white panties on. you look up at him, his presence swallowing you whole. without words you reach our hands out, promptly placing them on the hem of his pants and starting to unbuckle the belt he had on. you fingers fumble from the tension, but you finally do it. you trail you fingers onto his abdomen, drawing small hearts before you hear him growl. he picks you up swiftly and throws you on the bed settled in the middle of the room. his pants come undone so he pulls them off fully. "Spread your legs, baby." you do, your pussy spilling over the lace that barely covered anything. his rough fingertips trace your clothed folds, making you look away. "Look at me. Look at me, tell me what you want."

"Want you, Joel.." he hums. he pulls the panties to the side, eyes fixed on the way your cunt glistened under the dim light. its not long before he gets on his knees between your legs. "sweet girl. been dyin' to know what's inside that pretty head of yours when you look at me like that." His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. "you know how much i had to hold back? wanted to ravage you, toㅡ" he trails "to destroy you. make you beg for me to stop..." joel leans down, his rough beard tickling your neck, drawing a soft moan from between your lips.

"Sure you want this, darlin?" Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits for your signal. "So sure." This is it, the moment you had only dreamed of. that's when his lips crashed against yours again, his mustache pricking your skin. you kissed back, hungry, so hungry like you've never felt before.

"want that pretty pussy wrapped around my cock." you whimper pathetically at his dirty words. dirty. dirty like his touch that left your skin tainted, dirty like how you know you'll feel after all of this is over.

but you like dirty. you love dirty.

joel pressed himself against you, his briefs now fully off. fuck, he was huge. his leaking tip was pressing against your folds. "so wet, baby. all this for me? c'mon, let me hear you say it."

" 's all for y-ou, Joel ㅡ" you choked back a moan, pushing yourself back onto his bulge. he laughs, tilting his head to the side slightly. be drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down again and again, as if he didn't make you wait long enough for it. after he thinks its sufficient, he starts to push inside, causing you to bite onto your forearm and shut your eyes as tears welled up in them. "atta girlㅡ you can take it. you're a big girl, ain't ya?" he teased. "My little girl, takin' my cock so well."

by the time he was fully inside, you were a mess, tears stained your cheeks, drool at the corners of your mouth covered in smudged lipstick ㅡ you were in a dream for sure. joel moves, at first, slowly as to let you adjust. he's patient. praises trail onto you as he kisses little pecks on the small of your back. "That's it, darlin'. take it all." your body trembles from every breath and touch of his.

his pace picks up, skin hitting yours roughly, fingers tangled in your hair and his other palm flush against your belly. "feel me there, sweet girl?"

"I- yes, yes, please, p-please ㅡ " You were hanging on the mattress for dear life, your brain foggy. nothing made sense but this. Joel buried deep inside of you. he fucked you hard, and deep, your stomach churning at every hit. his calloused hands gripped tightly at you hips, his moves now more ragged.

"shitㅡ whish I married you, baby.." he says through grunts, palms still gripping your hips. "Wish it were you there in that dress. 'm sorryㅡ" you cry a little louder as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. "let me put a baby in you, sweet girl, we can run away andㅡ fuck, run away and be happy. have our own little family." your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Joel, Iㅡ"

"You'd want that? imma make you a mommaㅡ my pretty wife, god."

" 'm s-so close, Joel, please "

"I know, baby, I know. Y-You go ahead." With a few more snaps of his hips, you're both coming, bodies writhing, as his head falls upon your chest. For a long, heavy moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish. All that was left was the two of you, in that silent little room.

Joel pulls out, making you moan. He watches intently as his seed drips out of you, licking his lips as a palm rubs your lower belly. He hopes it'll stick.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, Bakugo jacking off, se*ual fantasies, male orgasm, ejaculation

Summary: you're Bakugo's roommate, and although you hardly ever interact, Katsuki secretly develops intense feelings for you. Unable to gather the courage to confess, he silently admires you from a distance — until the day he stumbles upon your OnlyFans account

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Living with Bakugo Katsuki was always an unpredictable ride. He was a walking firestorm - intense, brash, and always on the edge of exploding. But after a few months of sharing an apartment with him, you’d come to realize something: Bakugo wasn’t just a chaos incarnate. He was meticulous, sometimes even thoughtful, and despite his rough edges, he’d never once crossed any boundaries.

You’d gotten the room through your mutual friend, Kirishima, and Bakugo had agreed reluctantly. 

From the very beginning, he’d kept his distance - never really speaking unless necessary, and most of the time he stayed in his room, went on missions or trained late into the night. 

You could feel his eyes on you sometimes, though, watching silently, like a predator sizing up his prey. But whenever you looked, he was back to his usual aloof self.

What you didn’t know was that Bakugo was harboring a dangerous attraction to you. He’d never admit it, not to you, and definitely not to himself. You were out of his league. Too sweet, too gorgeous, and the very idea of being vulnerable enough to confess his feelings made him grit his teeth in frustration. He'd fantasized about you countless times though - his imagination running wild with ideas of what it would feel like to claim you. But he buried those desires deep, thinking you'd never look at him the way he wanted.

That was, until one night.

Bakugo had come home late from a mission, exhausted but restless. After a shower, he threw himself onto his bed and mindlessly scrolled through his phone, his thumb hovering over the OnlyFans app. He opened it to unwind, expecting to see the usual faces he followed. 

Katsuki wasn’t the type to do things halfway. Whether it was in battle or in bed, he always gave everything he had. He liked control, craved it, and when it came to sex, that desire for dominance only amplified.There was something about seeing his girls completely undone - driven to the point of exhaustion, their minds hazy and bodies twitching from overstimulation - that made his blood rush straight to his meaty, veiny cock. He loved it. Loved fucking them stupid, pushing them until they were too weak to even move, taking them apart piece by piece until they were nothing more than a quivering, overstimulated mess. He'd fuck them hard, in the deepest, most mind-numbing positions that left them gasping for air, so lost in the pleasure that they couldn’t think straight. And when he was done, when he was satisfied and had cum deep inside them, he’d sit back and admire his work - the way his cum would slowly dribble out of their abused, slippery holes, their bodies so spent they couldn’t even squirm at the discomfort. That sight alone was enough to make him hard all over again. 

Not everyone could keep up with him. He knew that. His sex drive was relentless, and sometimes, it was easier to find that satisfaction elsewhere - somewhere he didn’t have to hold back or deal with the aftermath. Because that was the thing about Bakugo Katsuki - he didn’t just fuck. He conquered. 

That’s why he liked OnlyFans. It was a place where he could explore the things that got him going without any strings attached.

Bakugo liked to watch. He followed plenty of girls there who reminded him of the kind of sex he liked to have - the ones who weren’t afraid to push their limits, who would ride their toys until their legs were shaking, their eyes fluttering in that tell-tale sign of pleasure that had turned to something far more intense. The girls who let him imagine fucking them so stupid, until they couldn’t even think, until all they could do was huff and puff his name into the mattress, their bodies boneless, overwhelmed, claimed his.

Upon spotting a familiar figure suggested in his feed, he felt his entire body go rigid.

It was you.

No fucking way, he thought to himself, eyes wide in disbelief. There you were, posing in a barely-there lace bra and panties, your lips curved into a teasing smile. You looked so different - so confident, so seductive - nothing like the girl he passed by in the hallway every day. His cock immediately stirred, blood rushing south as he continued to stare, unable to believe his eyes.

Bakugo's mind raced, trying to process the image. You had an OnlyFans? Fuck, that’s hot. The realization hit him like a truck - he could actually watch you, see more of you than he'd ever imagined.

Without thinking, he subscribed, and a moment later, a notification popped up: “New subscriber: ExplosiveKing.”

His cock twitched at the sight of your next photo - a close-up of your tits spilling out of the lacey bra, your nipples hard and pushing against the fabric. Then came a greeting message, and Bakugo almost dropped his phone when he saw it.

Thanks for subscribing, handsome ♡ Hope you enjoy the content! 

You even attached a photo of you in nothing but a thong, your ass up and face turned towards the camera with a playful wink.

He groaned softly, his cock already straining against his boxers as he stared at the image, replaying every interaction you two had ever had. All the tension, all the moments he pushed away, came rushing back in an overwhelming wave of desire. His dick was dribbling more precum into boxers, the fabric going from damp to soaked quickly as he feverishly sought his release.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, already palming himself through his Kalvin Clein boxers. His left hand reached down, cupping his dick through his pants. "Nnnnhhh," he couldn't stop the soft and breathy moan that escaped him as he flipped his dick up, into a more comfortable position. His hips were already pushing forward, into his hand. He needed more.

His fingers fumbled as he tugged his boxers down, needing relief as he gripped his length, hard and throbbing. His breathing grew heavy, and within seconds, his rough hand was wrapped around his cock, the image of your perfect ass burning in his mind. He pumped himself slowly at first, his imagination running wild. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you lived just a few feet away from him, and here he was, jerking off to your nudes. 

"Shit, you're perfect," he muttered under his breath, eyes glued to the screen as he pumped his cock. He imagined your hands on him instead, the way your soft lips would feel against the tight skin on his rock-hard cock, the sound of your breathy, sloppy moans in his ear. His grip tightened, matching the pace of his fantasy, biting his lip to muffle the groan threatening to escape.

As he stroked himself faster, the guilt began to fade, replaced by raw, animalistic desire. You’d never know. And hell, if you were posting this shit for other guys to see, then why not him?

It didn’t take long before he was groaning your name under his breath, imagining you on top of him, your tight body grinding down on his cock. The idea of having you - right there, in the flesh - made his pulse race. His fist moved faster, eyes squeezed shut as he pictured the way you’d look riding him, those soft lips of yours gasping for breath as he filled you up with his meaty dick.

His imagination ran wild - your pretty face, your tits bouncing as he fucked you senseless, the way you’d cry his name. That thought alone sent him spiraling, his cock twitching. With a low growl, Bakugo came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling onto his hand as he panted, chest heaving. He kept pumping, riding the high of his orgasm, but even as the pleasure subsided, he couldn't get you out of his head. 

For a moment, guilt flickered in the back of his mind again. You were his roommate. Hell, you were always so nice to him, always sweet and considerate. And here he was, jerking off to your pics in secret. But as his phone buzzed with a new notification, that guilt quickly dissolved into something primal. 

You had just started a live stream.

Bakugo's cock twitched in his hand again as he opened your stream. 

You were sitting on your bed, wearing a cute little lingerie set that clung to your body in all the right ways, thigh-high stockings completing the look. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you adjust the camera, giving everyone a perfect view of your body. "Hey, cuties!" you chirped happily, the camera lighting up with your playful smile as more viewers trickled in. "Hope you're ready for some fun tonight!"

ExplosiveKing: Damn, doll, you look fucking amazing tonight

"Aw, thank you, ExplosiveKing!" you giggled, reading his comment. "So sweet of you to join!"

Hearing you say his username in that sexy, cheerful voice of yours set something off in him. His eyes darkened with lust as he started stroking his slobbery cock again, the thought of you calling out to him making him harder than ever.

You started off slow, teasing your viewers with gentle touches, running your hands over your body as you spoke sweetly to them. But when you pulled out the vibrator, Bakugo nearly lost it. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse racing as he watched you slip the toy between your legs, letting out soft moans as you teased yourself.

He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every little gasp, every roll of your hips - it was driving him wild. He matched your pace, fucking his fist like he was fucking you, imagining how your pussy would feel clenching around him.

Then, as if reading his mind, you slid the vibrator inside your already sopping pussy, your breath hitching as you moaned for your audience. 

Bakugo bit his lip hard, stroking himself faster as he imagined what it’d be like to have you under him, begging for his cock. His grip tightened, pumping his length in time with your movements, chasing that high again. 

It happened so quickly that his brain barely registered the exact moment.

His cum surged up through his throbbing, overstimulated cock in powerful spurts, spilling and bubbling from the slick, swollen tip, leaving a thick trail of pearly semen coating his hand and seeping through his fingers as Katsuki moaned your name. 

The young man fervently hoped you hadn’t overheard him from your bedroom.

Weeks passed, and Bakugo’s obsession with you only grew. He watched every stream, donated more than anyone else, and even bought his first sex toy - a pocket pussy - just to mimic fucking you when you used your toys on camera. Every Wednesday and Friday became his ritual. He’d lock himself in his room, pull out his laptop, and jerk off until his cock was raw and spent. Sometimes he'd cum three or four times in a single stream, completely lost in the fantasy of you.

But as much as he enjoyed it, it started to get under his skin. The other men watching you, the ones leaving comments and drooling over you - it pissed him off. You were his. He hated knowing they were getting off to you too, even though you were right there, living with him, just down the hall.

One night, after one of your streams, you noticed something unusual - ExplosiveKing had donated more than usual. 

There was a short comment attached to the donation:

"You have a way of getting under my skin like no one else. No matter how many others are watching, you’re mine in a way they’ll never understand."

And honestly? You didn’t mind. Among all your fans, he stood out as your favorite - dedicated, generous, and mysterious.

What you didn’t know, though, was that the man behind the screen was Katsuki Bakugo, your roommate. That the same explosive hero you lived with was jerking off to you multiple times a week, falling deeper into his secret obsession with every stream.

He wasn’t merely your biggest fan - he was the man who longed for you entirely to himself, who fantasized about fucking you dumb every time he heard your sweet voice. For now, Bakugo remained hidden in the shadows, silently worshiping you from his bedroom, awaiting the day he would muster the courage to reveal just how desperate he was to be your boyfriend.

[ariichive]

SURVIVE────°˖✧ ✧˖°────

being in an arranged marriage with mydeimos was bound to come with problems—sharp words exchanged like drawn daggers, every touch charged with defiance rather than desire. resentment simmered beneath forced smiles, yet in the moments between their clashes, something dangerous lurked—a spark neither of them dared name, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

the heart grows stronger with distance, or so they say. with mydeimos sent off to war, the kingdom of castrum kremnos grew colder, the weight of his absence pressing heavier than an unspoken longing. but loneliness was a quieter enemy compared to the kremnoans, who saw the new queen not as a ruler but as a weakness. whispers turned to plots, daggers drawn in the shadows. they would see her dead before they let her soften their king.

cw: violence, threats, friends to enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, childhood friends, death, parent issues on both ends, slight angst but happy ending, gore. fem reader wc: 12k took this fic so seriously that i typed it with proper capitalization and proofread it... i could have missed something though, my ideas were everywhere but i think i connected everything!

The man who stood before you was no longer full of that youthful spirit from a decade ago. The light in his eyes was diminished, something darker and more primal in them now. though, you're sure the same could be said about you.

Gone was the admiration in your eyes. Gone was the eagerness to learn more about your husband. In its place stood a wary acceptance, a silent understanding forged through years of unspoken grievances and battles fought both on the field and within these very walls. The love you once searched for had been buried beneath duty and bloodshed, leaving behind something colder—something you didn't have the courage to name.

This marriage was something neither of you wanted. While he was much more vocal with opposition, you couldn't deny the snarl of your lips when your parents would open their mouths and order you around like you were some object.

Obedience had been expected, demanded—but resentment had taken root long before you ever stood at the altar. Mydeimos fought his fate with fire and fury, yet you had been forced to smother yours beneath clenched teeth and measured silence. Still, the bitterness remained, coiling deep in your chest, waiting for the day it could finally be set free.

"Do you, [name] of Styxia, take Mydeimos as your husband? To be there after every battle, after every bloodshed? Will you be able to withstand the consequences and hate that comes from this marriage?"

The priest had a chilling smile on his face.

Of course, the people of Castrum Kremnos had a terrible hatred harbored for you. They believed in fighting for power, tearing through everything and everyone with brute strength.

Mydeimos' parents were wedded through battle and countless fights. That is precisely what Kremnoans expected out of their only son: marry a wife who rivals your strength and can hold the crown when the king is away. It was natural for them to protest the political marriage between you and Mydeimos.

Of course things were not always this way.

"Mydei, look at the butterfly I caught!" You gently lifted your finger to the young prince's face. "Playing with such insects?" Mydei crossed his arms and let out a 'hmph', "Young girls like you should be scared of those mindless- G-GET IT OFF!" The 8-year-old Mydeimos yelped in absolute terror as the yellow winged bug flew from your finger to the tip of his nose.

You let out a laugh that your parents would have ridiculed you for. You could hear your mother's nagging voice already, "[Name], no daughter of mine can let out such an unruly sound." And of course, your father agreeing.

"Mydei, c-calm down." you managed to get out through your weezing. "You'll hurt the poor thing!" Mydei snapped back to reality as your gentle hand took back the butterfly on his face, now red from panic or embarrassment, you couldn't quite tell. Either way, he refused to meet your gaze, lips pressed into a thin, sulky line.

"You’re insufferable," he muttered, dusting off his tunic as if the butterfly had tainted it. "One day, you won’t laugh at me like that."

You tilted your head, still smiling as you cradled the delicate creature in your hands. "Why? Because you’ll finally be brave?"

His glare deepened, and for a moment, you thought he might stomp away like he usually did when you got the better of him. But instead, he huffed and turned on his heel, nose still slightly scrunched.

You watched him go, amused, before gently releasing the butterfly into the breeze. It flitted away, its bright yellow wings catching the sunlight, oblivious to the way childhood had already begun to slip through your fingers.

"I do," you said quietly as you lifted your head up for the first time during the ceremony. The golden cup was passed into your hands by the priest, who looked content with himself.

The tension only rose as you raised the cup to your lips.

Tilting your head back, the smell of the wine hit your nose a second too late, as a drop of something sinister—a sharp, metallic taste— hit your tastebuds, leaving a cold chill down your spine.

It was a small amount, but it was clear there wasn't only wine in the cup.

Poison.

The thought flashed through your mind like a fire igniting your blood. They tried to poison you.

Your vision blurred as nausea twisted in your gut, but you managed to hold back the bile rising in your throat. The air felt heavy as you sank to your knees, desperately trying to stifle the coughs that threatened to betray you.

And then, for the first time that night, your eyes locked with Mydeimos.

He stood at the altar, glowering down at you with that familiar, icy indifference. There was no panic in his gaze, no concern—only disdain, as if this was just another inconvenience he had to endure.

"Do you, Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos accept this lady as your wife?"

Your chest tightened, and you gripped the cup in your hand, now too weak to hold it. The priest, who had been watching this unfold with an unsettling calm, crouched down beside you and gently took the unspilled cup from your hands.

He didn’t look at you, only at Mydeimos as he straightened, holding the cup up.

The room held its breath and watched Mydeimos take the cup from the priest without breaking eye contact with you.

With swiftness and no hesitance, Mydeimos downed the drink as if it was water blessed by the Gods.

"I do."

The words were a simple declaration, but they hung in the air with a heaviness that suffocated. The indifference in his tone sent a chill through your already fragile state.

You had thought you were prepared for this marriage—prepared for him—but in that moment, you realized just how little you truly knew him.

And then, the full weight of it hit you.

You had spent years preparing for this day, telling yourself that you could endure it, that duty and honor would bind you together. But now, as you struggled to keep your breath steady, barely able to keep your eyes open, you realized the truth—you were not the prize here.

You were nothing more than an afterthought.

The room swirled around you, but you could still see Mydeimos standing there, his expression unreadable, a mask of stoic indifference.

It wasn’t just the poison that made your stomach turn now. It was the realization that this man—the man who you had been promised to, who now held the power to determine your fate—did not see you, not really.

"She is yours now," the priest continued, his voice echoing through the silence. But you heard nothing. Your world had narrowed to a single, suffocating thought: He does not care.

Your gaze flicked back to him, but Mydeimos wasn’t looking at you anymore. He turned his back on you, eyes already focused on the path ahead, as though the woman who lay gasping on the floor was of no more importance than the shadows that clung to the walls.

“She couldn’t even bear a little poison!"

“Castrum Kremnos is doomed!”

Their unconcealed voices cut through you, sharp and cruel, their judgment more venomous than the poison coursing through your body. You could almost hear their sneers, see the way their eyes looked down on you, the woman who had failed even in this most basic test.

A bitter taste filled your mouth—was it the remnants of the poison, or the humiliation? The sting of failure was so much worse than anything the poison had done to you. You were nothing but a pawn in this political game, a symbol of weakness.

It was then the tears finally hit.

Mydei, now 12, watched from the training grounds as you played in the nearby open field with a Kremnoan guard dog. The usually stoic and intimidating dog was now reduced to a cheerful puppy by an 11-year-old girl, showing off his belly to you as if it was the most prized thing in the world.

And maybe to you, at that moment, it was. Mydei would agree too, as he admired the enormous smile on your face. Your laughter somehow drowned out the sound of swords clanking against each other, the sounds of men screaming 'Watch out!'

"Watch out, Mydeimos!"

Mydei broke out of his trance as a rough kick to his abdomen caused him to end up on his back. No longer the view of you playing with the dog in his eyes, but instead the ever-blue sky.

For a moment, Mydei laid still, winded, staring up at the clouds drifting lazily by. His heart was still pounding from the kick, but his mind, for a brief moment, was somewhere else. In that space between the fight and the fall, he let his gaze drift back to you, watching the way the dog nuzzled against you, the two of you sharing some unspoken bond that felt as distant to him as the sky above.

He could feel the bitterness rise within him, a mix of frustration and something he couldn’t quite name.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched his mentor, Krateros, signal towards the field. It was then when an abundance of guards rushed over to that very field. Some grabbed your wrists roughly and dragged you away from the training grounds. Others were quick to drag the dog away with a prong collar.

If Krateros could describe how he felt about you, he'd say indifferent. He was well aware of the planned marriage between the two of you, but having spent more time with Mydei than anyone, he knew it wasn't a good idea for the future of Castrum Kremnos. However, his pleas fell on deaf ears. The king and queen were desperate for a change, even if it went against tradition.

"Focus, Mydeimos."

"Focus Mydeimos."

Mydei snapped out of his daze at Krateros' sharp words.

"She was supposed to finish the cup of wine as your wife. You had no business intervening like that."

When Mydei ignored the words of Krateros, he took it as his sign to continue. "Do you want your own people to think of you as weak? Standing before me cannot be the same man who killed-"

"Krateros, hold your tongue."

Used to the threats hidden in his words, Krateros sighed. "My apologies, my king. What I mean is, your parents, they did not die just for their son to be reduced to a fool in love! I never agreed on the marriage between you two, and it would seem I would be correct to have thought so!"

Mydei crossed his arms, forcing his gaze to meet Krateros' own with a coldness that mirrored his father’s. "I do not need your lessons on loyalty or strength," he said, his voice steady, though a flicker of something more vulnerable threatened to show. "If you weren't such a lapdog to the throne, this all could have been avoided."

Mydei had been groomed for this position, taught to never show weakness. The weight of their bloodline, their legacy, was supposed to be carried with pride, but now, Mydei was faced with the harsh reality of the expectations placed on him.

He straightened, pushing the heaviness of those thoughts aside, feeling the pressure of those around him. He was supposed to be something else, something his parents had wanted. But this… this was not the life he had chosen.

Krateros was still watching him, waiting for a response. Mydei met his gaze with a coldness that surprised even him. “I am not a puppet, Krateros. I will never be.”

Krateros’ face darkened, but Mydei didn’t flinch. The weight of their shared history hung between them, but it was no longer enough to bind him. His destiny was his to choose, even if it meant shattering the expectations they had built for him.

“You think you can change this, don’t you?” Krateros sneered, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You think you can escape who you are. But it’s in your blood, Mydeimos. You can’t outrun what’s inside you. You can't run from the lady waiting for a change that'll never happen.”

Krateros opened his mouth to continue, but Mydei turned away, his back to the man who had watched him grow.

For the first time, Mydei wondered if Krateros even knew who he truly was—or if anyone did.

The older man had shaped him, molded him into a figure of strength and cold precision. But did Krateros truly see him? Or was he just a reflection of the expectations placed upon him, a mirror of the man his father had been, a man Mydei no longer wanted to be? Krateros had seen him grow, yes, but had he seen the boy beneath the armor? Had anyone?

You had.

Mydei chose not to think about it.

With a quiet breath, Mydei stood taller, his back still turned to Krateros. The silence stretched, but Mydei could feel the shift inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was strength or defiance, but it was something. And he wasn’t going to let it be drowned out by the weight of his bloodline, by the sharp edges of Krateros’ scorn.

“I don’t need to escape,” Mydei said quietly, but his words carried weight. “I need to find my own path.”

Mydei walked away, walked until he made it to a familiar field. One where the two of you would spend days playing, joking around with each other until night came.

This was also the same place Mydei delivered the final blow to his father, King Eurypon.

Mydei was almost 18 now, soon ready to take the throne as king and takeover all of his father's errors and debts.

Tensions were high in the royal palace. Queen Gorgo and King Eurypon have been arguing day and night. Behind the heavy wooden doors of the royal chambers, they clashed with words sharper than any sword. Every decision was met with resistance, every plan torn apart by an unyielding will that only seemed to grow more bitter with time. Castrum Kremnos was falling.

The kingdom had long been a fortress of power and tradition, but now it felt as though it was crumbling under the weight of the monarchy itself. Whispers of weakness spread like wildfire through the court, fueled by the incessant quarrels of its rulers. Their once-unified front was now shattered, each king and queen stubbornly holding to their beliefs, no matter the cost to the kingdom.

Mydeimos could feel the tension pressing down on him like a vice. He had been watching this slow unraveling for years, but now it was so blatant that even the youngest of court members could sense it. His parents, once the pillars of their nation, were becoming strangers to each other—and to him.

His mother’s harsh words and his father’s biting retorts were more frequent now, each exchange more volatile than the last. The staff had become accustomed to the constant arguments, their faces drawn in exhaustion as they tried to carry on amid a palace that was slowly becoming a war zone.

As Mydeimos walked through the corridors, he passed the guards standing at attention, their eyes flicking nervously to one another. They had always been a symbol of strength, of unwavering loyalty to the crown, but now even they seemed uneasy. The very walls of the palace seemed to pulse with the strain of something fractured, something teetering on the edge of collapse.

"Where are mother and father?" The guards all looked at each other, hesitant to answer the prince's question. It wasn't until Mydei rested a strong hand on the hilt of his sword did one answer.

"They are at the field of flowers, the one where... lady [name] usually resides."

Mydei felt something in his gut, something akin to fear, and he wanted nothing more than to rip it out of him like a true Kremnoan.

With haste, he was quick to make it to the field.

The journey, once full of laughter and joy, was now one of dread and anxiety. The closer he got, the stronger the stench of blood became. Beautiful flowers were stomped on, bloody hand prints rested on trees, and animals were scurrying away.

When he finally arrived, the sight before him tore him into pieces. You were there, cradling Queen Gorgo's body in your arms; she was barely holding onto life. It got worse as Mydei realized the reason behind her state was none other than his own father.

King Eurypon stood before the two women with his sword raised.

The last thing Mydei heard before he took action was the cruel words of the bastard King.

"I will puncture through you to put an end to this reign. I have no sympathy for the wife of the man who'll take my throne."

The words echoed in Mydeimos' ears, each syllable striking like a hammer. His heart stopped. The finality of his father’s words—the utter disregard for human life, for loyalty, for everything they had built—was too much.

And just like that, something inside Mydeimos snapped.

The rage that had been building in him for years—his silent rebellion, his frustration, his hatred for the path he had been forced to walk—exploded in an instant. His father’s face, cold and cruel, became the target of his fury. He could hear nothing but the deafening roar in his ears, the pounding of his own heart as it raced faster than reason could catch up.

Without a second thought, he lunged.

But it wasn’t the sword he raised. No, instead, it was his own hands, his own fists, that continued to strike.

"You ruined everything!" Mydeimos yelled, voice hoarse, raw with emotion. "You ruined us!"

His father’s face, contorted in shock and pain, finally shifted. "You’re nothing but a spoiled child, Mydeimos. I’ll show you what it means to rule."

In that moment, Mydeimos saw through the façade of the man who had called himself king, the man who had been nothing but a tyrant hiding behind a crown. He had never cared about his people, never cared about his family. He had only cared about power, about maintaining control at any cost. And now it was too late.

The two fought like beasts, Mydeimos with his fists and the king with his sword. The wounds inflicted on them were paid no mind; it was time to put an end to this once and for all.

Mydeimos barely registered the sting of his own wounds, the cut on his cheek or the gash on his arm. The sound of your sobs seemed to only fuel his anger. The blood was a secondary concern—he could feel it dripping down his skin, but it was nothing compared to the burning need to destroy the man who had caused all this. To destroy the symbol of everything that had broken him, broken his family, and shattered his kingdom.

The king, too, seemed to feel no pain. The blade in his hand moved with a deadly grace, despite the fury in his eyes. It was a fight of survival for him as well. He didn’t just want to kill his son; he wanted to prove that he still had power, still had control. He wasn’t going to let a young fool like Mydeimos take away his reign.

The fight stretched on, each moment a battle of wills. Mydeimos could feel his muscles burning, his body screaming for respite, but there was no turning back. Every strike from the king was an insult. Every thrust of the sword was a reminder of his father’s disdain. And yet Mydeimos could see it in the king’s eyes, that flicker of uncertainty—he was losing. His own strength was fading.

As Mydeimos stood over the king, fate seemed to laugh at him as Krateros appeared with royal guards behind him.

The shock on his face would've been laughable if under different circumstances.

With a final breath, King Eurypon's gaze shifted to Krateros. "Krateros, you will make sure my son marries that girl as Gorgo planned so many years ago."

The words, though strained, hung in the air like a sentence. Mydeimos froze, his body taut with disbelief, his pulse pounding in his ears. That girl—the one who had been nothing more than a pawn in his father’s games, a figure to be manipulated, controlled, and discarded when it suited him.

The plan had always been to bind Mydeimos to you—his wife, his kingdom’s political future, his duty to the crown. The thought of it had always been a bitter pill, but never had he imagined that it would come at the cost of everything else. His father, in his final moments, had not even offered a word of apology or remorse for the years of manipulation, the pain that had been caused by their arranged union. No, it was a cold, calculated command, one more betrayal among many.

Krateros, standing near the edge of the scene, nodded solemnly at the king’s words, his expression unreadable. His eyes shifted to Mydeimos, but there was no sympathy, no understanding. There was only the weight of duty in Krateros’ gaze. Duty to the crown, duty to the plan, duty to the legacy of the Kremnos bloodline.

“My king,” Krateros said, his voice a low murmur, almost reverent, “I will see to it.”

King Eurypon was no more.

Mydei could barely register the shouts from Krateros, telling them to leave Queen Gorgo to lay to rest. The sound of you crying as the former queen was ripped from your grasp didn't even make him flinch.

The Kremnoan guards were quick to flee, Krateros deciding to leave you and Mydei alone.

"M-Mydei," you sobbed, your voice trembling, not knowing how to reach him through the walls of fury and exhaustion that seemed to encase him. The sound of his name seemed to strike something deep within him, though it only made his fists clench tighter, as if the very mention of the old name was a reminder of all the pain, the betrayal, and the heavy burden he'd been carrying.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Not yet.

The sight of you, crumpled before him, bloodied and broken, stirred something deep inside him—something fierce, something tender, something buried beneath the weight of years. But it wasn’t enough to stop the coldness in his eyes.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Tears spilled from your eyes, the overwhelming reality of what had happened crashing into you. “I don’t know what happened! O-oh my god, there's so much blood, I-”

The words died on your lips as the nausea hit you all at once, a sharp wave of sickness sweeping through you. Your stomach churned, and before you could do anything to stop it, you found yourself hunched over, retching in the dirt. The bile tasted bitter in your mouth, the sharp tang of it mixing with the overwhelming metallic scent of blood that lingered in the air.

Mydeimos stood there, silent, his gaze unwavering, though his jaw clenched tighter as he watched you. For a moment, it felt like everything was at a standstill. The wind seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the distant rustle of leaves, the drip of blood on the ground.

His hand twitched, but he didn’t move toward you. It was as if the space between you both had become an impenetrable wall, one that neither of you knew how to cross.

For a long, agonizing moment, Mydeimos didn’t speak. He simply watched you, as if waiting for something—perhaps an explanation, perhaps for you to offer him the closure he didn’t know he needed.

The tension stretched taut between you, but the silence remained. The world around you felt too loud, too chaotic, but Mydeimos stayed still, his breathing steady, as though he were holding something back. His expression was unreadable, impossible to decipher.

"Instead of apologizing, maybe you should focus on getting stronger and growing up."

Mydei sighed as he recalled that day. After everything had gone down, he found refuge in his father's office. That is where he read the countless letters and documents concerning the marriage between the two of you. Papers that were dated back to almost a decade ago.

The marriage between you both was confirmed from the moment you stepped foot from Styxia and into Castrum Kremnos.

“You are just as trapped as I am, aren’t you?” he muttered under his breath, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. He couldn't even be sure if you felt the same way. The distance between you two had only grown since that night. Since the bloodshed. Since that moment, everything had come crashing down. It was for the better, being close to Mydei has only brought you pain.

But still, despite the rage, the resentment, the years of manipulation, Mydeimos couldn't help but wonder—would things have been different if he had taken the time to talk to you that day? Instead of leaving you there, curled in your own warmth, trying to comfort yourself?

He shook his head, his fingers clenching around the papers, crumpling one of the letters in his grip. It doesn’t matter now,he thought bitterly. What matters is what happens next.

But the problem remained: He couldn’t just cast you aside, not when the fate of the kingdom—and his own future—hung in the balance. You were always part of the plan, whether either of us liked it or not.

And now, you were waiting for him at the very place he wished to escape from.

The room felt like a distant, hollow space—a far cry from the warmth you had once imagined a marriage bed would hold. The sheets were cold against your skin, the air thick with the emptiness of your thoughts. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, stretching into corners that seemed to hold secrets you weren’t ready to confront.

Tradition dictated that this would be the night—your wedding night—when you were expected to share more than just vows, when the marriage would be consummated and the bond between husband and wife would be solidified. But tonight, you lay alone, your fingers tracing the edge of the cold, untouched bed. There was no Mydeimos to fill the silence, no warmth of his presence to break the quiet.

Instead, your mind drifted back to that fateful night.

All you could do was watch as Mydei turned his back on you, leaving you covered in blood that wasn't your own.

The night suddenly took a turn for the worse. One moment, you were enjoying the calming breeze, counting the stars that hung in the bright sky. A shadow loomed over you, one you thought was Mydeimos, only to make eye contact with the eyes of the king.

"K-king Eurypon, it is an honor to be in your presence." You bowed your head in greeting.

"Tell me girl, what do you think of my son?"

The question caught you off guard, but you still chose to tell the truth anyways.

"Mydei," the king's eyes glared at you, "M-mydeimos is a strong warrior. He is very hardworking and prideful. It's truly admirable."

He hummed in thought. "I'm glad you think so highly of my son. I'll be sure to tell him you held him in such high regard."

The words were barely registering in your mind as his sword was quick to be drawn and pointed against your chest.

"A shame, truly. My wife thought it would be a good idea for a marriage alliance between you two."

Marriage? And why is the king trying to murder you?!

"W-what?" You managed to stammer out. This only made the sword press deeper into your chest. "You will never be able to live up to Kremnoan traditions and strength. You will only bring my son and this already fallen kingdom to hell."

It was then when Eurypon struck down with his sword, and it would've been the end of you if another sword hadn't come down to block the strike.

"Even now, you still are fighting against me, Gorgo?"

There in front of you, was none other than the queen.

"Eurypon, this is not how to go about business matters. Killing the girl will not solve all of our problems."

Eurypon and Gorgo had very opposing views with the alliance of Styxia. Eurypon wanted to take over by force, like a true Kremnoan. Gorgo sought other means, wanting less bloodshed and a possible connection with Styxia. Gorgo wanted connections, Eurypon wanted land.

"Gorgo, do you need a reminder of how a king rules his people?"

The two fought endlessly, and all the pressure that built up over time came out in their fierce battle. All you could do was watch as Gorgo began to weaken, her body falling pathetically in front of you.

She paid the king no mind; instead, her fading eyes focused on you. "I...I know you will bring good to my kingdom, to my son."

"Gorgo, I will make sure the two get married as your dying wish. The kingdom you brought to power will fall because of you, and I'll be there to fix it all my way."

It was then that another person came into view, a heartbroken Mydeimos who slained the king. Later, it was a shocked Krateros who took the queen from your hold.

The end of a reign and the start of a tragedy.

You didn’t know how to feel. Grateful or embarrassed? Humiliated, even. You were still his wife (once childhood friend), but it felt like you didn’t even exist to him anymore. Not since that night. The night that had changed everything between the two of you.

Your chest tightened at the memory—the chaos, the violence, the words left unsaid. That night had burned itself into your mind in a way you couldn’t forget, no matter how much you tried to block it out. His eyes had been cold, distant, filled with a rage and grief you didn’t know how to reach through. You hadn’t spoken since, not really. Not the way you used to. You couldn’t even recall the last conversation you had before everything fell apart.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you pulled the blanket tighter around you, hoping it would offer you some comfort against the chill that had settled in your heart. The silence seemed to stretch forever, the weight of it heavier than anything you had felt before.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was how it would always be—if the distance between you and Mydeimos was something that couldn’t be undone.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you pulled the blanket tighter around you, hoping it would offer you some comfort against the chill that had settled in your heart. The silence seemed to stretch forever, the weight of it heavier than anything you had felt before.

The once-familiar castle felt nothing more than a dreading curse on your soul. Halls where you would spend chasing around the young prince were now full of laughter and insults.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was how it would always be—if the distance between you and Mydeimos was something that couldn’t be undone.

As sleep was finally about to take over, the door slammed open and an angry Mydei stormed in.

He seemed shocked to see you actually there, his eyes silently saying 'so you didn't run away?'

The maids had dressed you in the finest of red silks, a color they said their king enjoyed. But in this moment, it seemed he didn't even want to look at you.

Your mind stumbled over a greeting, scared to say the wrong thing and scared that your voice would still be hoarse from the poison. None of that mattered as he took the initiative to speak. "I will be heading off to war in a few days. There is no need to see me off."

The silence between you was suffocating, thick with all the things neither of you were willing to acknowledge. You longed to break it, to ask him why, to demand an explanation for the way he was shutting you out, but the truth was, you were afraid of the answer. And even more, you were terrified of the way you might look to him now—the woman who had failed him, who had failed to be the wife he needed, who was now only a shadow in his life.

You shifted on your feet, the cold weight of the silence pressing harder with every passing second.

"I... I understand," you finally managed to say, your voice barely a whisper, betraying how broken you really felt. "I’ll... I’ll respect your wishes."

Mydei turned to leave, but just before the door closed, you heard him.

"Don't follow me." His voice was so quiet it almost seemed like an afterthought, but the command within it was unmistakable. It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle, either. It was the final word, the one that sealed the distance between you both.

With that, he shut the door.

During these past days, you didn't leave the room once. You aren't sure where Mydeimos has been or if he has already gone off to war. The maids were kind enough to bring you food, but you were cautious to eat it after the poisoned wine.

The meals sat untouched on the small table by the window, cooling and growing stale. You were hungry, but fear held you back. Fear of what the food might hold, of what new betrayal could come from the very people who should have protected you.

As the days passed, your body began to feel the effects of the isolation—weakness in your limbs, a constant dull ache in your chest. The silence in the room became unbearable. You had become a ghost in your own life, tethered to the bed by your own insecurities, trapped in a room full of memories that both comforted and tormented you.

It wasn't long before rumors started to spread around the castle.

"The Kremnoan soldiers last weeks without a proper meal, and that invader can't last a few days?"

"She's probably trying make our king pity her."

"Does she not know we Kremnoans have no room for pity?"

"I heard, on the night of their wedding, she seduced one of the guards and bedded him. That's why King Mydeimos looked so frustrated!"

It was endless chatter happening outside of your door, the rumors you heard were absurd, and it almost made you cry a few times.

Everything about this situation was so frustrating! You had no one to talk to; sure, the maids were nice, but they loved to partake in all the gossip. You weren't even able to find comfort in your parents, who put you in this mess in the first place.

All you could do was stare out the window and wish for better days.

Even today, the commotion happening outside was nauseating. Cheers and screams of triumph were heard all over, and you couldn't help but be curious.

With a peek outside, you witnessed the ginormous army of Castrum Kremnos being led by no other than Mydeimos himself.

He was going off to war today.

The banners of Castrum Kremnos billowed in the wind, the rhythmic stomp of soldiers’ boots shaking the very ground beneath them.

The people cheered, their voices rising in a deafening roar of admiration and loyalty. To them, this was a moment of pride—of power. To you, it was something else entirely.

Your fingers curled against the windowsill as you watched him from the safety of your prison, your place in his life now reduced to that of a silent observer.

Your heart twisted painfully.

You should have been down there. You should have been by his side.

But Mydeimos had made it clear—Don’t follow me.

And so you stayed, trapped behind glass, watching the man you once knew disappear into the distance, leading an army to war.

All you could do was ask yourself why?

Why did he leave you alone that day? Why didn't he let you explain everything that happened?

Why did he shut you out?

Maybe it was because of everything piling up, but you couldn't bear to look outside the castle window anymore. It was a tragedy, a tragedy that could've been avoided if he had just listened to you.

But maybe his anger towards you was valid?

The thought unsettled you, but you couldn't deny some of the truth behind it. After all, you were the woman forced into his life, a foreign queen whom his people despised.

After all, you were his father's dying wish, the man he hated most.

You turned your back to the window, missing the way Mydei spared a glance at the highest window on the castle; missing you.

The night Mydeimos left was one celebrated. Everyone knew he and his army were going to obtain an easy victory, so they celebrated with the most delicious alcohols and foods.

You, however, found no comfort in their revelry.

Seated at the far end of the grand dining hall, you felt like a ghost in your own castle. No one paid you any mind—not the lords who clinked their goblets in toasts, nor the noblewomen whispering behind painted fans. You were nothing but a reminder of an unwanted union, a foreign queen with no real place in their hearts.

You felt grateful; it took a lot of courage to even come out in the first place.

The wine before you remained untouched. The food, no matter how enticing, held no appeal. You felt sick, not from the lingering fear of poison, but from the weight of isolation pressing on your chest.

"Ah, this is the King's wife? How weak." A group of scholars in the corner decided to be the first to interact with you tonight, albeit negatively.

"She's meek, but her looks surpass the brutes of Kremnoan women." Another one snickered out.

"Tell us, wife, how did your first night with the King go?" This caught the attention of the rest of the patrons in the room.

"Is it true he's as ruthless in bed as he is in battle?" A lady, one who you remember laughing at the wedding, asked intrusively.

"I-"

"Didn't you hear? She was unable to get him to enter the room! She had to go find a guard to take care of her harlot needs."

"That's not what..!"

Before you could even finish your sentence, the group of men glared at you, as if daring you to speak up.

"You need to be confident in your abilities." A 16-year-old Mydei said to you. "If you sound confident, people will naturally believe it."

You sighed. "Mydei, I don't think it'll matter how hard I try. I'm not a Kremnoan, just some girl her parents sent here so they wouldn't have to be responsible for me."

Mydei let out a deep chuckle.

"You think that's all you are?" he asked, shaking his head with something close to amusement. "You underestimate yourself."

His confidence in you was almost laughable. You gave him a skeptical look, crossing your arms. "And what am I, then? Some grand strategist? A warrior in disguise?"

He leaned in slightly, the moonlight casting sharp shadows across his face. "You are someone who can shape the world with nothing but your words—if you learn how to use them properly."

You blinked at him, taken aback by his certainty. Mydei was never one to sugarcoat things, and he certainly wouldn’t say something just to spare your feelings.

"Confidence is half the battle," he continued, arms folded. "If you say something with conviction, even the gods might start to believe it."

For a brief moment, you almost believed him.

You brushed off his words with a laugh. "I have you with me, and I know you'll never let any harm come to me." Although you said it jokingly, you both knew it was the truth.

How laughable.

"That's not what happened that night. You all are so concerned in the king's business and involving him in such baseless rumors. Is this how you act while he's out there fighting for us all?"

There was a wavering in your voice, one even you couldn't deny, but it was enough to stun them all into silence. The once lively air was now tense and awkward.

With a clear of your throat, you excused yourself for the night.

As you stepped away, the weight of their stares clung to you like a phantom touch. You could still hear the hushed whispers behind you, muffled by the clinking of goblets and the distant melody of a lute. They wouldn’t dare speak louder, not after the way you had silenced them.

But had you truly silenced them? Or had you only made yourself a greater target?

Your hands trembled slightly as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors to your chambers, the warmth of the grand hall replaced by the biting chill of isolation. You barely made it to the vanity before gripping its edges, trying to steady yourself.

You had spoken with confidence, just as Mydei once told you to. Yet, your voice had wavered.

Would that be enough for them to see through you?

With a heavy sigh, you turned toward the mirror, searching your own reflection for something—anything—that resembled the queen you were supposed to be.

But all you saw was a girl trapped in a place that would never truly be hers.

Sleep came a bit easier that night.

The morning was full of regrets as the door to your chambers was nailed shut.

You pulled and slammed against it but to no avail. You heard the snickers as people passed by, and the tears began to fall.

The laughter outside was distant now, their amusement fading as they moved on, leaving you alone with your humiliation.

You wiped at your tears angrily, hating how easily they fell. This was what they wanted—to break you, to remind you of your place, to make sure you knew you were nothing more than an outsider playing queen in a kingdom that would never be yours.

But would Mydeimos find out?

Would he even care?

A bitter taste filled your mouth at the thought. You turned away from the sealed door, your body shaking with something far stronger than sorrow.

If they thought this would make you cower, they were wrong.

Your breathing evened out as you forced yourself to stand tall. If they thought this was enough to break you, they underestimated you.

You turned from the door, scanning the room for anything—anything at all—that could help. The windows were too high, the furniture too heavy to use for leverage. You were trapped like an animal in a cage, but you refused to let yourself feel like one.

Instead, you paced.

Minutes turned into hours, the once-dim light of morning stretching into the harsh glow of midday. The laughter outside had long faded, replaced by the distant hum of daily life in the palace. As if nothing had happened. As if you weren’t locked away, forgotten.

A sudden sound startled you—a soft rustling from the door. Your heart pounded as you turned, half-expecting a cruel trick. But then, a shadow moved just from under the crack in the door.

A quiet knock, and then the sound of something being slammed against the door.

It was scary, and it caused you to take cautious step-backs.

One final slam, and the door busted open.

"Krateros?" You said in utmost shock. You remember your few interactions with him, all very brief. The last time you'd seen him, he was at Mydei’s side, whispering words of war and legacy into his ear.

Krateros stood in the doorway, his broad frame casting a shadow over your trembling form. His dark eyes swept the room before settling on you, unreadable as ever.

"You look surprised," he muttered, stepping inside without invitation. His boots left faint imprints on the rug, damp from the evening chill. "Did you think they'd just leave you here to rot?"

You swallowed hard, your back pressing against the far wall. “I—” You didn't even know what to say, because honestly, yes you did believe that.

"As much as I believe you aren't fit as queen, I... made a promise that night. Before the queen fully passed."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of that night. The one where everything had fallen apart, where Mydei's father had been killed, where the weight of duty had been thrust onto both your shoulders, though neither of you had truly chosen it.

"What promise?" Your voice barely rose above a whisper. The chill in the room seemed to deepen as you tried to comprehend his words.

Krateros’ eyes softened, just for a moment. It was a fleeting glimpse, quickly masked by his usual hardened demeanor. He crossed the room toward you, the air between you heavy with tension.

"The queen," he began, his voice a rare softness, "she... asked me to ensure you weren’t left to suffer in silence. That you were given the chance to survive."

"I couldn't give her a quick enough response before she passed, so to be quite honest, I never felt indebted to her... to you."

He avoided your eyes.

"But I spoke with Mydeimos recently." Your body visibly tensed at the mention of his name. "There's no changing his mind," Krateros had a fond look in his eyes.

"If you want to be more than a puppet queen, then you’ll need to change. Prove to these people that you have teeth, not just a crown," Krateros said, his words heavy with a cold truth.

You wanted to protest, to scream that you hadn’t asked for this role, that you’d never wanted to be a pawn in a game you couldn’t even understand. But Krateros wasn’t wrong.

"I’m not… I’m not like them," you said, the words escaping before you could stop them. "I can’t just… pretend to be someone I’m not."

Krateros raised an eyebrow. "No one expects you to pretend, but right now, you're invisible. And in this world, that’s worse than being hated."

ou flinched, the truth of his words stinging more than you cared to admit.

"And as for Mydeimos…" He paused, as though considering how much to reveal. "He doesn’t want a queen who’s meek, who lets herself be shut away. He wants power. And you—" Krateros’ eyes flicked to your face, sharp and calculating, "—you need to show him you can wield it."

Your mind spun with the idea. Could you do this? Could you become the queen the kingdom demanded, even if it meant losing yourself in the process? Or perhaps—just perhaps—you could reclaim something from this mess and turn it into something of your own.

"Yes... You're right. I need to survive because I..." I miss my friend is what you wanted to say but left quiet.

Krateros took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. There was a calculating coldness in his eyes, but beneath it, something more dangerous lingered. It wasn’t kindness, but something akin to respect, or perhaps something more manipulative.

"If you want to prove your worth, start by helping in this war."

His words were a bit of an eye-opener; you had no idea who Mydeimos was even fighting or why. If you were able to help someway, it'll be perfect. "With all due respect sir, I don't think I'm fit for fighting." You couldn't help but shy away.

Krateros’ lips curled into a smirk at your hesitation, his eyes scanning you with something akin to amusement. "No one’s asking you to wield a sword, Your Majesty. But you’re smart enough to know there are other ways to contribute. War isn’t just about fighting on the frontlines. It’s about strategy, influence, and knowing how to manipulate the forces around you. Your place in this war isn’t on a battlefield, but in the court, in the strategy rooms, and with the people who can sway the outcome."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Strategy. Influence. Those were things you’d never thought of in relation to yourself, and yet, here they were, suddenly thrust upon you.

"But I—" you started, but Krateros cut you off with a sharp gesture of his hand, his eyes darkening.

"You’re not a helpless pawn, [Name]. If you want to survive, you need to learn how to play the game. And that means you need to start thinking like the Kremnoans do." His voice was low, firm, almost a growl. "Every action has a purpose. Every word spoken in court, every ally made or broken. You need to learn how to use them all to your advantage."

"I’ll do it," you said quietly, more to yourself than to him. "I’ll learn."

Krateros nodded approvingly, the faintest trace of something—satisfaction, perhaps?—glimmering in his eyes. "Good. You’re starting to understand. Freshen up and meet me in the library in approximately 5 minutes."

Your eyes widened. "5 minutes? Is that even enough time to...!" Krateros was already out the door.

You rushed to the mirror, hastily brushing through your hair and adjusting your clothes. A queen. You need to look the part. But the rush, the pressure—it felt like everything was moving too quickly.

You didn't even have time to catch your breath as you pushed open the door and hurried toward the library. You had no idea what Krateros had planned for you there, but you knew it wouldn't be anything easy. It never was with him.

When you arrived, you found the massive wooden doors already slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside. The room was as imposing as ever, shelves filled with scrolls, books, and maps, the air thick with the scent of parchment and ink. Krateros stood by a long table, his back to you as he perused a map laid out before him.

"Right on time, good."

You finally managed to let out the breath you were holding in.

He finally turned to face you, his gaze sharp. "Sit."

You hesitated for a moment before doing as instructed. Krateros slid the map over to you, revealing the territories and borders of Castrum Kremnos, marked with different symbols and annotations.

"Start here," he said, tapping a red X near the southern border. "This is where we’ll be focusing our efforts. A new alliance is forming in the region called Pixara, and we need to decide how to handle it."

Your gaze flicked to the map, uncertainty creeping in. "But... how can I—"

"You're not here to question," Krateros cut you off sharply. "You're here to learn, to make decisions. I'll guide you, but you have to think like a ruler. Think about the people, the stakes. And then, decide what the best course of action is."

"Now, I want your opinion. What do you think we should do? You've been in Castrum Kremnos long enough, it's about time you started learning how things work around here." Krateros pressed, his gaze unwavering. "How do we deal with this new alliance? How do we defeat Pixara?"

"From the perspective of a Kremnoan, charging in and defeating them would be their first choice. A quick and easy slaughter. Though I..." you thought back to all the letters sent from your mom, teachings she was too lazy to do in person. "We could negotiate with them, offer an alliance of our own—one that strengthens us both. Or... we could play them against each other, cause dissent, and let them destroy themselves."

The air in the library felt heavier, more suffocating now. You could feel Krateros' gaze on you, his silence pressing down like a weight. You’d spoken, given him your answer, and now you had to prove that you could handle the consequences of those words.

Krateros stepped closer, running a finger along the edge of the map. His voice was low, calculating. "I like your idea. Playing them against each other will keep us in a position of power, but it’s a dangerous game. We’ll need more than just words. We’ll need spies, alliances of our own, and a very sharp eye for deception."

He paused, allowing his words to hang in the air like a threat. You felt your palms begin to sweat. This was it. This was where you either sank or swam.

"And you'll need to be careful," Krateros added, his eyes finally locking with yours. "You don't have the luxury of hesitation. They won’t wait for you to make up your mind. If you hesitate, they’ll tear you apart."

His words struck like a slap, and you flinched involuntarily. "I understand," you managed, your voice steadier than you felt.

He nodded. "Good. We’ll begin at once. First, you need to learn the geography of Amphoreus and history of Pixara. Then, you'll need to meet with the generals and get a grasp on the situation. Learn everything you can about our current position. Finally, we’ll start making moves."

You nodded quickly, wanting to appear confident, even though your mind was racing. Become more aware and educated. Meet with the generals. Get a grasp on the situation. The task was daunting, but it was the only way forward.

Krateros’s eyes narrowed, his lips curving into a slight smirk. "Don't forget what you've learned here, [Name]. Your position is tenuous at best. You’re not just representing yourself anymore. You represent Kremnos."

Your first task—Pixara's geography and history. It was a daunting start, but you had to begin at the root of the problem. Why was this alliance forming in the first place?

The library felt even more overwhelming than before. Rows upon rows of ancient tomes lined the walls, each one seemingly a gateway to a piece of the puzzle you needed to solve. You glanced at the high shelves, the vast collection of knowledge all at your disposal. But where to begin?

You pulled down one of the books labeled History of the War Between Nations, and the sheer weight of it felt like a burden. You flipped it open, eyes scanning the pages, trying to piece together the history of Kremnos and its wars with neighboring kingdoms. As the hours passed, the words began to blur together, the names and dates sinking into a fog. The more you read, the more questions you had.

Who could be trusted? Which alliances were real? Where had the kingdom gone wrong?

And what could I possibly do to fix any of this?

It was then an idea hit you: You were still a royal from Styxia, they could join us!

The reason for Kremnos's alliance with Styxia—and why they wanted to secure your marriage to Mydeimos—wasn't just about the kingdom’s internal strength. It was about survival.

From what you gathered, Kremnos had once been a much larger power, holding dominion over vast stretches of land, but it had splintered over the centuries, weakened by betrayal and constant war. The neighboring kingdom of Styxia had always been a threat, a kingdom rich with soldiers and political influence, but the alliance was not born out of mutual respect. It was born out of necessity.

Kremnos needed Styxia’s resources, its warriors, and its sheer manpower to maintain any semblance of power in Amphoreus. And Styxia needed Kremnos for access to the trade routes, the wealth, and the stability of a larger kingdom. Now, they had what they wanted through the marriage of you and Mydeimos; it was about time they paid you back.

And so, your first step was writing a letter to your mother back in Styxia.

To My Beloved Mother,

I trust this letter finds you well, as it is my hope that this message will carry more weight than mere pleasantries.

I am reaching out to you, Mother, because it is time to ask for what I need in return. Styxia must come to my aid—not through direct intervention, but through resources, information, and political maneuvering. I need Styxia’s support in securing my place here as a force to be reckoned with, both to stabilize this kingdom and to help guide Mydeimos toward becoming the ruler this land needs.

With all the respect I can muster,

[Name] Queen of Castrum Kermnos.

The days following the letter’s dispatch were filled with tense anticipation. Every moment felt like a countdown, but you had no idea when the reply would come. Krateros was still helping you and making sure you were actually eating.

You had done all you could for now—sending a message to Styxia and beginning your education on Kremnos’ geography, history, and its position in the war. Krateros’s demand to meet with the generals was still looming, but there was no immediate need to rush into that; for now, you kept busy with what you could control.

The knock on your door broke through your spiraling thoughts, and you quickly stood, adjusting your posture to appear composed. You didn’t have the luxury of weakness anymore.

"Enter," you called, voice steady.

The door creaked open, revealing one of the castle’s servants holding a sealed letter.

"Your Majesty," she said, bowing low as she extended the letter.

Your heart skipped a beat. The seal was unmistakable—it was from Styxia.

Without a word, you took it from her hands, immediately breaking the wax seal. You read through the contents quickly, your eyes widening as you absorbed the information within.

Your hands clenched around the letter as you processed its contents. The message was clear: Styxia had granted you their conditional support.

You had no time to waste. The war, the generals, the people—they all awaited a queen who could lead them.

The next steps were clear now. You would prepare to meet with the generals and gather the information Krateros had insisted you understand. You would learn every detail about the war—what they were fighting for, who the enemy was, and where the key strategic points were.

The next morning, you dressed in a simple yet authoritative gown, forgoing the luxurious silks that you were once adorned with. You needed to prove yourself capable, not just of ruling in the shadows, but as someone worthy of standing in the light. Your expression was set with determination as you stepped out of your chambers, ready to face the generals.

The long walk through the palace halls felt longer than it should have. Every step echoed, as if the palace itself was waiting for you to take action. As you arrived at the war room, the heavy wooden doors loomed ahead, guarded by two sentries.

"Your Majesty," one of them greeted, opening the door without hesitation. You nodded and entered, only to be met with the steely gazes of several high-ranking generals. They were older, grizzled men, some of whom had seen more battles than they would care to count. But their respect was not given freely.

At the far end of the room, General Mavros, an older man with a thick beard and scarred face, looked up from a map sprawled across the table. His gaze shifted to you, and despite his age and experience, there was a visible flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Your Majesty," he began, his voice a mixture of authority and curiosity. "To what do we owe this honor?"

"I’ve come to understand the situation in full," you said, your voice steady, clear. "I’ve come to see how I can help lead this war."

Mavros raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

"I want to know everything," you demanded. "The enemy, our positions, our strengths and weaknesses. All of it. I intend to be involved. I will not be a queen in name alone."

The next few hours were a blur of information, names of enemy factions, strategic locations, and key battles. The complexities of war unfolded in front of you as Mavros and the other generals taught you what they knew—about the landscape, the movements of enemy armies, and the politics of the other factions involved.

It was then you suggested your idea of tearing them apart from the inside. Plant a mole, spread misinformation, and make them surrender.

Krateros, who had remained in the background up to this point, stepped forward, his eyes calculating. "It’s bold. But it’s also risky. The enemy could catch on quickly, and if they do, we’ll be exposed as the ones responsible. We need to be careful with this approach."

"That is where my home kingdom comes into play. Styxia will be our alibi."

"Explain," Mavros said, his tone all business now.

You stood straighter, your confidence solidifying. "Styxia, my homeland, has a history with the neighboring kingdom we're fighting. They’ve always wanted influence in Amphoreus, and as a result, they’re often suspected of meddling in its affairs. We can use that suspicion to our advantage. By making it look like Styxia is supporting the enemy, we can feed into their paranoia and create division within their ranks."

You could see the generals begin to process what you were proposing. Krateros’s gaze flickered with recognition, while Mavros’s calculating expression told you he was considering the broader implications.

"We don’t need them to know we're involved directly. If Styxia's name is associated with the unrest, the enemy will begin to doubt every move their allies make. They’ll turn on each other, without us ever lifting a sword."

Krateros, ever the skeptic, crossed his arms. "But Styxia would never commit to such an act openly. If we move forward with this, we’ll need to make sure they’re kept in the dark. Their involvement must be only implied, and that requires finesse."

"That's why our mole is essential," you replied, stepping forward. "We can use Styxia's reputation as a shield. The rumors can start with someone who has a connection to the kingdom, someone with the knowledge to plant seeds of doubt. This way, Styxia can remain unaware, and our position won't be compromised."

"Let’s not waste any time," you said, your voice firm. "The longer we wait, the more chances they have to uncover our plan. Let’s set this into motion immediately."

Mavros looked to the others, who gave a quiet nod of agreement. "We move quickly, then. This could be the turning point we’ve been waiting for."

Another warrior was slain by the hands of Mydeimos. It was never-ending at this point. A week into battle and Pixara has yet to yield.

It wasn't that Castrum Kremnos was weak by any means, but Pixara had numbers. Numbers that shouldn't be possible for a newer alliance.

It was clear to Mydeimos that Pixara had underground connections. Connections to kingdoms that most likely wanted to witness the fall of Castrum Kremnos.

It was then that an argument broke out amidst battle between warriors on the opposing side. "What are you saying? Styxia was never promised to us! We're fighting for bigger kingdoms than that!"

"You fool! Styxia and Castrum Kremnos are relying on each other now! If we take down one, we get the other!"

"Then why are we even fighting? King Mydeimos and his wife don't even get along! She'll give us their powers without all this bloodshed!"

"Where did you hear such rumors!?"

The argument between the warriors grew louder, their voices sharp and accusatory, as if the tensions on the battlefield were not enough to contend with. In the midst of the chaos, the clatter of swords and shields drowned out the shouts of their own comrades.

One of the warriors, his armor dented and worn from the heat of the battle, spat out, "You think too highly of yourself. If Styxia were truly so eager to abandon Kremnos, they would've done it by now! But they haven’t. They’re still dependent on us, just like we’re dependent on them."

Another voice, thick with disbelief, responded, "Don’t be so naïve. You don’t understand the politics of it all. It’s not about kingdoms anymore—it’s about survival. Mydeimos' wife—what a joke. She’s as much of a pawn as anyone. When she takes control, the entire balance of power will shift. Kremnos will fall. Styxia will take the reins.”

The first blow came suddenly, without warning. A crazed, bloodied warrior, his face twisted with exhaustion and frustration, swung his sword at the nearest comrade. The strike was wild, driven not by skill, but by pure desperation.

The clang of steel hitting steel echoed across the battlefield, and for a brief moment, the fighting halted, the warriors around him looking at one another in confusion.

"What are you doing?" someone shouted, trying to back away from the escalating madness. "If you keep this up, Pixara will fall! All of our effort, all our resources!"

But the man, his eyes wide and unseeing, didn’t answer. He was too far gone, the madness of battle overtaking his sanity. His sword came down again, this time finding its mark in the chest of another warrior, sending him crashing to the ground with a pained scream.

The shout of alarm spread quickly. “Traitor! He’s lost his mind!”

Mydeimos signaled for his warriors to fall back.

His warriors hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to follow orders or try to salvage what was left of the frenzied battle. But the sight of Mydeimos—calm, collected, his expression stone cold—was enough to sway them. Slowly, they pulled back, retreating from the chaos unfolding behind them.

The battlefield, once a chorus of clashing swords and battle cries, fell into a grim silence, punctuated only by the ragged breaths of the fallen and the distant cries of those still fighting amongst themselves.

Mydeimos surveyed the scene, his jaw clenched in frustration. His eyes scanned the disarray—the scattered bodies, the warriors who had once been allies, now locked in confusion and violence against one another.

"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, his fists tightening. "With the diverse group of nations in this alliance, opinions were bound to be different. But this?" His voice rose in disgust. "This is the end of unity, the end of purpose."

"Today, my army, we witness the fall of the weak known as Pixara!" Mydeimos shouted with a raise of his sword.

"We are Kremnoans! And we will never fall to these cowards!"

The battle cries that followed were fierce, loud, and unrelenting. The warriors surged forward once more, and with Mydeimos at their helm, they began to push back the disarrayed forces of Pixara. His eyes were focused, his mind calculating. This time, it was different. The defeat would be decisive. The rebels would feel the weight of their disobedience.

He'll be back home sooner than expected.

The news of their army's victory spread around Castrum Kremnos quickly, many were preparing for the return of the warriors excitedly.

You were also finally starting to be seen and respected as good word began to circuit about your participation in the small war.

You hadn’t truly expected it. You had been preparing for failure, even as you worked tirelessly behind the scenes. But now, as the whispers grew louder, you couldn’t deny the shift. You were no longer just the wife of Mydeimos, the one who had been thrust into a kingdom full of political intrigue and turmoil. No, now you were beginning to be seen as an asset, someone who could hold her own.

The palace felt different now. People greeted you with more respect, the once-dismissive looks were replaced with nods of acknowledgment. Some even approached you with suggestions, offering advice that seemed more like an invitation to join the ranks of those who would guide the future of Kremnos.

Your mind, though, was still occupied with Mydeimos.

What would Mydeimos say when he returned? Would he see your involvement in the war as a sign of your loyalty, or would it further estrange you both? Would this newfound respect be enough to create the change you desperately needed?

There was only one way to find out.

A few days later, the army returned with their king.

People lined the streets, their faces a mix of joy, curiosity, and anticipation. It was clear this victory meant more than just a battle won—it was a declaration of power, a symbol of the strength Castrum Kremnos now wielded, and a glimpse into what the future could hold.

Mydeimos was leading them; there was something in the way he looked at the crowds that made your stomach twist. It wasn’t joy or triumph in his eyes; it was a quiet, brooding intensity, as if the weight of the kingdom’s expectations, the loyalty of his people, and the complexities of his reign were bearing down on him all at once.

It wasn't until late into the night, when you were up walking around the now familar castle, when a hand came out of a room and yanked you inside.

The door slammed shut behind you, and for a moment, everything was still—silent and suffocating.

Your eyes adjusted to the low light, and before you could speak, you heard a voice.

"Don't make a sound," Mydeimos’ voice commanded, harsh and firm. It was the first time in weeks you’d heard it so close, so raw. His presence in the room felt almost like a storm, unpredictable.

He released his grip on your arm, and you took a step back, your pulse still racing. "Mydeimos, what—?"

"I told you not to speak," he snapped.

Mydeimos’ gaze softened for just a fraction of a second, though it was fleeting. "You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing? The whispers around the court… the way they look at you now."

Your stomach dropped. "I only—"

"I don’t care what you’ve been trying to do." 

Your nervousness was quick to turn into anger.

It was as if the weight of everything that had happened—every word unsaid, every action, every betrayal—had been building up inside you, and now, finally, it was spilling over.

"You think you can just walk in here after everything, after everything that's happened, and still treat me like this?"

Mydei looked shocked before his brows furrowed, but you didn't give him time to speak.

"You left me at the altar; you left me without saying goodbye before heading into a war! Y-you even left me that night when all we had was each other!"

Your chest heaved with every breath, and the tears, which you had been holding back for so long, began to threaten. But you wouldn't let them fall. Not now.

"I wondered what I did wrong for so long! I just wanted my friend back. I wanted to be there for you after the fall of your parents! I just thought you'd need me the way I need you..."

You couldn't help the tears from falling now.

For a long moment, there was silence, broken only by the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears. Mydei looked at you, his face unreadable, but you could see the flicker of something—guilt, remorse, maybe even regret.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"You did a terrible job, Mydeimos!"

Your anger seemed to rub off on him now. "Could you stop calling me Mydeimos! To you, I am your Mydei!" He was damn near growling now, an animalistic look in his eyes. "Did you ever stop being selfish for one second and think about the consequences of us being so close?"

"Selfish? You're calling me selfish?"

"[Name], let me finish talking." He wasn't asking, and with the look in his eyes, you knew it'd be best to be quiet.

"I did what I had to do," Mydei continued, his tone low, laced with frustration and something darker—resentment, maybe. "I didn’t want to push you away. But we’re not children anymore. We’re not playing games. Every choice I made, every move I made, it wasn’t for me, it was for this damn kingdom, for Kremnos, for us, whether you understand it or not."

His fists clenched, the muscles in his jaw working as if he were restraining himself from saying more. His eyes never left yours, dark and intense, the emotions running so deep beneath the surface.

"You don’t get it," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with bitter frustration. "You think I’ve been selfish? You think this is easy for me?" His breath hitched, and there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his gaze before he quickly masked it again. "I’ve been carrying this weight, this burden, all by myself. And I didn’t want you to have any part in it. That night in the field... I saw what my people, my own father, were capable of. It haunted me every night, seeing you like that, holding my mother's deceased corpse."

"Then... the marriage actually happened, and I knew there was no way for either of us out of it."

Your heart clenched, the venom in his words stinging more than you expected. Hell that’s coming... You didn’t want to ask him to explain. You didn’t want to know the details of his world, of the decisions he had to make. But you couldn’t help it.

"Is that why you avoided me? Because you thought it would keep me safe? Because you thought I couldn’t handle it?"

His eyes softened, just for a moment, before the harshness returned. "I left because I thought you deserved better. I thought you could have a life without the weight of this kingdom crushing you. Without being tangled in my mess. But maybe I was wrong about that."

You stepped back, your hands trembling, unsure if you wanted to hear more or if the truth was too much.

"Maybe you’re wrong about everything," you whispered, barely able to hold back the tears. "You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to keep me in the dark while you fight your battles and make your choices."

Mydei’s expression shifted—something flickered in his eyes. Regret? Sorrow? "I didn’t want to make those choices alone."

"You think you can fix this? After everything?" you asked, your voice trembling, raw with emotion. "What do you want from me, Mydei? After all this time, after everything you’ve put me through?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the words.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, more uncertain. "I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I just know I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to keep running away from you."

You let his hand touch your face. "I heard about everything you did to help us, me, come home. It made me think about how much stronger you actually are. I... regretted making you rely on me so much as kids. You could have always been a strong leader if I had just given you the chance. If I let you adapt to life here instead of trying to seclude you from it."

Mydei’s expression softened, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. There was a quiet sincerity in his eyes now, a vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to see. He took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to say something more.

"I’ve been so scared of losing you," he confessed, his voice tight. "But maybe... maybe I’ve already lost us, in some way. Maybe we’ll never be what we once were."

You shook your head, stepping closer to him, your heart pounding. "We don’t have to be what we were, Mydei. We can be something else. We can start again—slowly, but together. If you’ll let me in again."

"We can be different from your parents; we don't have to end in tragedy."

He paused, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options, as if the weight of his past mistakes was heavier than the future he could possibly have with you.

After a long, tense silence, he nodded, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. "I want to try," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I want to try with you. If you’ll have me."

You took a deep breath, your chest tight with all the emotions you had been holding onto for so long. "I’ll have you, Mydei. But you have to promise me something. Promise me that we won’t hide from this anymore. Promise me we’ll face whatever comes together, no matter how hard it gets."

His grip on your face tightened slightly, a silent vow in his eyes. "I promise. No more running away."

You smiled. "No more running? Not even from a pretty butterfly that lands on your nose?"

Mydei's once longing face turned into one of annoyance. "You cannot be serious."

The look on his face made you laugh even harder; his scowl, which was usually threatening, felt like looking at a puppy. "If you had something randomly land on your nose, would you not freak out?"

With your laughter dying down, Mydei looked lovingly at you. He missed this.

"Not as much as you, that's for sure."

Mydei let out a 'hmph' as he grabbed your chin with his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. "W-what are you..!"

He leaned in gently, placing a soft kiss on your nose. This action left you flustered and a stuttering mess.

"I promise you, [Name]. I will not leave your side; I'll protect you no matter what." He pressed his nose against yours, forehead to forehead.

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him.

wowie this was long, i'm working on something similar for phainon (probably not as long), lmk if you wanna be tagged!

[wroetolando]

𝙿𝚒𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚕 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where lando proposes to his partner after securing a podium finish at Monaco, turning race day chaos into a perfect, unforgettable moment

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: oscar winning tears - raye

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The air was fresh at dawn when the sun broke over Monaco, bathing the harbor in a golden glow lined with luxury yachts. In the midst of the frantic atmosphere of race day that filled the air, there was tranquility in your hotel room. The balcony door was wide open, where a light breeze made the curtains dance in the air with the surf miles away mixed with that of the lone engine being revved up somewhere down in the paddock below.

Lando lay in bed, nose-first into his belly, face buried half into the pillow. His curls were a jumbled mess, flattened against the side of his head, and the sheet was pulled down across his back, showing the muscles beneath. He slept that way, peacefully, so unlike high-strung, always-moving Lando that the world had learned to expect.

You rolled over onto your back to turn and look at him, supporting yourself on an elbow. "You wake up, race boy."

A moan came from the pillow. "Five more minutes," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, reaching out to push his curls back from his forehead. "Your pre-race warm-up is très professional, I see.".

"Mm," he growled, not stirring still. And then, just when you were about to push him again, his arm came out, drawing you into his chest and around your waist. His body was warm, the sort of warmth that prevented you from uncurling yourself around him.

"Part of my ritual," he whispered, opening his eyes slightly at last. "Hanging on to my good luck charm before I go out there and risk my life for the sake of entertainment."

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide a smile. "So melodramatic."

He smiled but didn't complain, instead leaving a sleepy kiss on your shoulder. His arms around you eased for an instant before he groaned. "I don't wanna get up yet."

You wanted to be able to leave him so, too—coiled in the moment, in the heat of each other, away from cameras, excitement, tension for what was to come. But you knew he'd be in the middle of the paddock soon enough, with engineers, with strategists, with cameras, preparing to pilot one of the year's most important races.

"Come on, Monaco doesn't wait for anyone," you panted, fingers tracing idle patterns along his naked back. "Not even Lando Norris."

He cursed again but finally released you, rolling onto his back with a sigh. "Fine, but because you asked so nicely."

You sat up and stretched, both of us laughing. The sunlight pouring through the window lightened everything into warm, golden light, so the morning was itself soft and easy even in the underlying beat of race day.

Lando sat up, too, wincing back from his fingers as he rubbed at his eyes before turning to glance over at you and smile a small smile. "You coming on the grid with me today, yeah?"

"Yeah," you told him, as if it was ridiculous to even consider being anywhere else.

He grinned smugly and leaned in to plant a quick, careless kiss on your lips before pulling himself out of the bed at last.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

By the time you arrived at the paddock, though, everything was changed. Morning's easy-going sociality was over, handed over to race-day high-pace, high-releasing activity. The McLaren pit was alive—engineers running last checks, mechanics working their car double-check one more time, journalists interview prepping.

Lando squeezed your hand lightly and then let go, already race-mind by then.

As he melted out of the garage for his debrief, you waited with his performance coach, Jon, who grinned knowingly at you. "He's a little more tense than usual today."

You raised an eyebrow. "Actually? He didn't seem all that anxious before."

Jon grinned, crossing his arms. "That's because you calm him down. But I'm telling you, something's different. He was fidgety all morning."

You furrowed your brow a little, glancing over toward the garage where Lando was grim-talking with his engineers. Race nerves were inevitable, and particularly for Monaco. The track along the road was merciless with extremely tight corners and little tolerance for mistakes. In spite of this, Jon's words seemed to echo in your head.

Why was Lando getting so worked up?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Anticipation mounted while the cars queued on the grid. You were positioned just behind the barriers, your McLaren team scarf draped about your neck, amidst the chaos of a race day. Lando's car was in line, and while he settled in, he looked back over his shoulder a bit in an effort to catch a glimpse of you amidst the crowd. You could sense the power of his glance even behind the reflective visor.

You gave him a swift thumbs-up, mouthing, "You got this."

A fraction of a second later, his engineer was chatting to him on the radio, reminding him of the race.

And then, lights on.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Lights out.

The following hour and a half was absolute pandemonium. Monaco was famous for drama, and this race did not disappoint. A red flag in the early stages. A fight for position that had your heart in your throat. A heart-stopping pit stop that could have cost him everything.

And yet, through it all, Lando maintained P3.

When he crossed the line in podium position, the McLaren garage spontaneously erupted into a victory cheer. There was joy and relief that welled up over you as you joined in the yell with the team, your chest still thumping with the intensity of it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You were already parc fermé waiting when Lando emerged from his car, still glowing with the adrenaline. The moment the helmet came off his head, he looked for you. Cameras trained on him, but he didn't care—he charged through the crowd barrier and headed straight for you.

You didn't even have time to react before he was wrapping you in a bear hug, lifting you off the ground in a crushing embrace. "Holy shit," he breathed, burying his face on your neck. "That was crazy."

"You did it," you giggled, holding just as tight. "P3 in Monaco!"

He was holding close enough to gaze into your eyes, his own shining. "I couldn't have done it without you."

He'd reached inside his glove even before you'd said a word to him.

Your heart was pounding.

Before all the cameras, the McLaren crew, the crowd, and the entire vast world to see, Lando Norris slowly fell onto one knee.

The bystanders gasped. You gulped hard, your hands clapped to your mouth.

"Lando—"

"I was going to do it no matter," he said to you, his tone more even than you'd expected. "Win, lose, DNF—it didn't matter. I just didn't feel like waiting anymore."

He popped the lid off of the tiny little black box, and within its depths glowed a ring of glittering gems. It basked in the sun as accurately as did the sea beyond you.

Your fingers trembled.

"You've been with me through all of this," he continued. "Every race, every disappointment, every stupid Twitch stream. You light up my world just being present. And I don't want to spend one day ever again with the knowledge that you won't always be there for me."

Your eyes full of tears, you looked at him, and you waited for him to continue.

"So," he exclaimed, a little breathlessly. "Will you marry me?"

The world was cacophonous, but in that moment, there were only the two of you.

You did not blink.

"Yes!" you roared, your head moving furiously.

The instant you spoke the word, Lando sprang to his feet, slipping the ring onto your finger before drawing you into a bruising, breath-stealing kiss.

The cameras clicked. The crew applauded. The champagne spattered.

And in the midst of it all, Lando embraced you, his lips smiling against yours.

"Best podium ever," he breathed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[harveyspictures]

Old tombstones slanting at chaotic angles in the Old Burying Ground in Sag Harbor, NY July 17, 2023

[hlysins]

tag dump: characters part three