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doromoni · 8 months ago

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Off Track Pace | MV1 , ?

Ships Max Verstappen x presenter! Reader , ? x presenter! Reader , Platonic! Charles Leclerc x presenter! Reader

Genre : Fluff , Angst

Sub tags : mutual pinning , She fell too early , He fell too late,

Summary : A new f1 presenter and journalist has entered the paddock and she brings chaos along the way. And as competition looms , will the current Champion be as fast outside the track?

Face claim: Sofia Wylie

A/N : I’m so sorry luvs! I’m working on updating Clash of Champions , i promise ~ it’s my uni’s finals exams so I gotta focus on that first… so here’s a peace offering.

Part 2.

Media day, usually on a Thursday — a day that most Formula 1 drivers dread. A day where cameras followed their every move, interviews with journalists that twisted their every word and silly PR stunts forced on them by their teams. It used to be just all racing and winning podiums, but modern Formula 1 is all about media politics and sponsorships.

If you were to ask any driver on the grid if they were given the chance not to do PR, they would say yes to skipping it. But not everything about media day is horrendous.

Not when a new motorsports journalist joins the paddock that was an absolute sweetheart and delight to have around. A natural on the job — she always made sure that every driver that she interviewed was comfortable and enjoying their time with her and the segment.

the.Y/N

liked by skysportsf1 , lissiemackintosh, f1 , and 689,270 others

the.Y/N first day on the job? . i’m not nervous, you are! (She said literally shaking)

skysportsf1 Welcome to the team Y/N! ❤️

the.Y/N thank you kind employers. 🤍

lissiemackintosh Babe!! It’s finally official. Congratulations!

the.Y/N Thanks to you Babe!! I swear I would’ve been lost without you 😭

User1 who is she?

the.Y/N literally no one

User2 Ohhhh a new commentator? 🤔

User3 maybe she’s a journalist?

scuderriaferrari the kids had fun. They want their clay statues on display!

User2 Clay statues?? Hello?? Wut?

User3 Same question, Clay statues??

the.Y/N wait and see 🤷‍♀️ , the interview would drop tomorrow? Maybe~

User4 Its her first day and she literally had an interview with Charles and Carlos in Ferrari???

the.Y/N well no , the first interview was with Lewis Hamilton … so. 🤭

User5 WHAT?? Ok , queen slay!

User4 damnn , imagine being new to your field and already interviewing the big guys.

mclaren Do us next please 🙋‍♂️

redbullracing get in line!

the.Y/N gotta stop by Aston first , sorry besties.

User6 OK WHAT IS HAPPENING, ms. Y/N who are your connections 😭 i want in.

User7 why are all the teams here??

Y/N L/N was the F1 presenter and journalist who put drivers willingly out of their comfort zones and made them try something new. You genuinely loved what you do and you were passionate about it. You never showed partiality among the drivers, you treated everyone with the same attitude — this earned the respect of all drivers on the grid.

You were quickly becoming a paddock favorite. The fans enjoyed the content you put out and the drivers looked forward to your interview when they saw your name on their schedule.

Interviewing with you usually meant cheat meals and unusual activities that you thought they would like.

the.Y/N

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 740,155 others

the.Y/N maybe bowling isn’t the best idea. @charles_leclerc you suck, ngl. New vid out on Monday at the sky sports channel🤍

charles_leclerc i hate you ❤️

the.Y/N no you don’t 😌

charles_leclerc no, i don’t

User1 I love their dynamic so much!! I need more of the Paddock siblings pleaseee

User2 I can’t wait for more of Y/N bullying Charles into weird things and Ferrari doing nothing about it🤣

landonorris but why is charles in a cowboy costume?

the.Y/N i dunno? He just showed up in that 🤷‍♀️

charles_leclerc You told me we were riding horses and you wanted me to wear smth cowboy!!

the.Y/N oh yeah! Lmao

landonorris should i feel bad?

the.Y/N Nope. He’s happy either way. Aren’t you @charles_leclerc?

User2 NOT THE LMAO . Y/N thank you being you

User3 Y/N giving us Cowboy Charles , yes ma’am

User3 JUST DATE ALREADY!

the.Y/N EW. No

charles_leclerc Ok , the ew was unnecessary. But same. No thanks :)) i’m not dating my sister .

User4 Charles call y/n his sister 🥺

However, No matter how much you tried to keep things professional by being just a driver: journalist, something your boss commented during a quick meeting because fans kept shipping you with every driver. What you found weird is that most drivers you see as older brothers and some even uncles (don’t tell Nando). Plus most of them had girlfriends!

Nevertheless, your relationship with them seems to always end up with them hanging around your office at Sky, whenever they are free. Even the older drivers like Nando, Lewis and even Nico and Kevin use your office as an escape from the chaos of their motorhomes.

You didn’t mind hosting the older drivers in your room, as they were usually tame and kept to themselves as they read the books on your shelves in peace. They usually plop themselves down your couch and place the oversized plush you always bring on their lap. They always brought you snacks, so you looked forward to the times when their heads popped in your door and asked if they could come in.

But when the younger drivers visit your office? And if they came in groups — which they usually do. Oh boy, it was either a clusterfuck of them stealing snacks from your secret stash or your office becoming a den for hot gossip in the paddock usually led by the one and only Charles Leclerc.

Case in point. You now have Charles, Carlos, Max and to your surprise Checo in your office. The older Spanish-speaking driver was a rare visitor, but a welcome one nonetheless.

But considering the topic in discussion, you understood the presence of the two Red Bull drivers.

You were in the middle of typing away on your laptop when suddenly they barged in with ice cream tubs and spoons at hand then found a spot to sit and made themselves comfortable.

“Is Newey leaving Red Bull?” Charles asked Max and Checo, as he scooped a bite from his ice cream.

“We have no clue! Christian is saying nothing to us. Nothing” Max exclaimed exasperated as Checo nodded in agreement.

“So Adrian Newey is moving to Ferrari?” You questioned as you pointed your spoon at Charles

“Y/N, I love you like a sister and I know that you’re incredibly smart, but sometimes you are stupid. We’re clueless in Ferrari, hence my question ”

You threw your wooden spoon at the Monaco-born Ferrari driver. Which he easily avoided thanks to his fast reflexes. Freaking f1 reflexes!

“ I wasn't the person who got named for being stupid— HEY! Max give that back!! You don't even like salted caramel” You were trying to rebut Charles’ insult but were distracted when Max took your ice cream for himself.

Max just shrugged and placed his half-consumed chocolate brownie fudge ice cream in your hands — his spoon still in it. You didn’t complain further as you took his spoon and took a bite yourself. Yum! Brownie fudge is your favorite.

“Dude, what is even going on inside Red Bull? What was Horner under investigation for?” Carlos pressed on, trying to find answers. You were curious yourself

“Everyone is being weird. They’re keeping things from us. “ Checo added. You knew that they were truly left in the dark because if they knew they would’ve spilled instantly. NDAs be damned.

“Every interview, people keep asking if we know something! one more journalist and I swear I’ll run them over with my car! I hate each one of them” Max grumbled to himself.

You coughed. You knew that you were an exception but you couldn’t help but mess around with your friends.

“Don’t even, Y/N. You know you don’t count. “ Max waved you off.

“Wow! Thank you for that babe. Way to make a girl feel special” you said jokingly to the Dutch driver, as you winked dramatically. To which he only rolled his eyes — making you and the rest of the drivers laugh.

Max was immune to your flirting, unfortunately. It sucked especially when you had a tiny …. Ok big … HUGE crush on the 3 time world champion.

Max to you was like an Older brother’s best friend — Where you were the little sister crushing on him and you didn’t have a chance. You knew that like the other drivers, he just saw you as a little sister. But still you couldn’t help but fall the star driver of Red Bull.

Everything started when you brought your niece to the paddock because your sister had an emergency. You were scheduled to interview Checo in the RB motorhome and your niece was starting to feel fussy and you were slightly panicking on what to do— when Max suddenly came to your rescue and took your niece out to ice cream.

You admit you found Max attractive even before— like so damn attractive, but that was it— nothing more. But when you found Max carrying your niece in his arms as they played inside his garage, you knew that you were a goner to the charms of Max Verstappen.

You have been pinning for Max for a year now. You wished that you had the confidence and courage to just confess. But the fear of rejection freighted you, so you settled to just keep your friendship with the devastatingly handsome Red Bull champion.

As time went on, and nothing but friendship between you and Max developed — You’ve come to terms with the process of letting go of your feelings. Even when you’ve already met his mom and sister, hung out in his yacht and spent nights over his place when movie nights with Charles and his girlfriend went too late. You knew not to think anything of it.

And you were right to think nothing of it. Because not a week later, rumors had spread all over the paddock that Kelly Piquet had set her eyes on Max. You didn’t believe it at first, but when you saw with your own two eyes them engaged talking happily in his garage. The sparkle in Max’s eyes had solidified your will to move on.

A few weeks had passed and Kelly’s presence was constant in the paddock. Everyone had speculated that she had become Max’s girlfriend. But no one was sure, not even you — Max had been silent about it.

You tried to be happy for them you did. But you can’t blame yourself for wishing that it was you instead. Even to this day, you are still trying to forget and bury your feelings for Max.

“Y/N? Y/N? Oi Y/N” You suddenly were startled out of your thoughts. You forgot that you were still with the drivers in your office.

“What? Sorry, I just remembered something. What did you say?” You asked Charles as he was the one who called you.

“I asked if you had an interview today” Upon hearing the words of the Monegasque, your eyes grew wide as you remembered that you did have a job to do and you were indeed almost late.

“SHIT! I DO I’m late! “ You suddenly sprang up from your seat and quickly gathered the things you needed — while the 4 drivers looked at you with amusement.

“Who’s scheduled for you today, Y/N?” Max had also sat up from his seat and gave you an opened bottle of water.

You received the bottle from Max. You didn’t have to thank the driver — just one look from you and he knew.

The other drivers looked amongst themselves as they saw your exchange with Max. Everyone had a knowing look on their faces.

“I'm going to Mclaren today! I have the whole day with Lando. “ You said as you closed your once abandoned laptop and placed it in your bag — the one Max gave you on your birthday.

“What have you planned for Lando, Y/N?” Checo asked curiously. He still remembered his interview where you both made bracelets and stuffed toys for his daughters — his daughters loved it and went to sleep with it every single day.

“Oh! I’m taking Lando to a rage room, then drive-thru for food.” You explained happily to the older Mexican driver.

“Which part of that is the interview?” Charles had interjected

“While we eat the food in the parking lot, duh,” You said as if they should’ve already known. Well, they should by now.

“You know Y/N, Lando likes you right? ” Carlos had suddenly dropped a bomb on you. You didn’t expect it at all.

“What?” Max had suddenly said — catching all of you off guard. You didn’t understand, why Max had reacted so suddenly. But you pushed that aside for now as you continued to stuff everything you need in the bag

“What do you mean, Lando likes me?” You asked Carlos, with your eyebrows scrunched together.

“He likes you. Like you know? Take you out on dates and all that” Carlos replied as he gauged your reaction.

“Ohhhh, that’s cute! how did you even know about it, Carlos” you asked not taking any of it seriously.

“Cute?” You heard Max muttered under his breath.

“He told me. I won’t spoil anything else. I’m not even supposed to say that he likes you, but oh well.” Carlos shrugged as he finished off his ice cream.

“What do you think about Lando?” Charles suddenly asked you. The Ferrari driver leaned forward

“Will you date him if he asks you ?” Checo then joined the conversation.

“ You should say yes, I mean you two are the same-“ Charles had suddenly grown excited.

“Ok whoa, calm down dads. He hasn’t asked anything yet! “ you exclaimed

“But will you say yes if he asked?” Max then asked you, his eyes piercing your soul. After all of the other questions, Max was the one to Catch you off guard.

“Uh yes, I guess? I mean, why not? Lando is fun And he is single right … ” You were panicking so you said yes, even when you knew that you weren’t ready for anything like that since you still held feelings for Max.

“ YES! I thought that you-“ Charles wasn't able to finish his sentence when you cut him off.

“OK, bye guys! See you later. I need to go!” And just like that you were gone, leaving the four drivers in your office — not letting them question you further.

“I swear, that kid is weird.” Charles shakes his head from side to side at your actions.

“Lando likes Y/N?” Max had asked again just to make sure that he had heard the Spaniard correctly.

“ Lando is a good kid. They’ll make a good couple, no?” Checo asked no one in particular, as Max was not moving from where you left him.

“Wait, wait… since when did Lando like Y/N?” Max asked confused, looking green with jealousy. Fingers tingling as they clenched on itself

“Well he was interested in Y/N since the beginning but he backed off since everyone thought that you two had a thing” Carlos explained as he stood up and went to raid your snack stash.

“Yeah, but now you’re with the daughter of Piquet. what’s her name again? KELLY! yes, kelly. So Lando is taking his shot” Charles added

“You knew? Charles, you knew about Lando?” Max was aghast at the knowledge that was just receiving now.

“Well yeah? I was the one to encourage him to ask Y/N out. ” Charles shrugged nonchalantly. He knew about your feelings for the Red Bull driver, but he also saw how hurt you were when Max started seeing Kelly out of nowhere. Charles wanted to help his friends — specially the ones that he grew to love like his own sibling in any way that he could. Plus it was time for Y/N to have fun, and Lando Norris is exactly that.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Max was conflicted. His emotions growing uncontrollably by the second.

“ Mate, we haven’t seen you for how many weeks! You were always out with your new girlfriend. Even Y/N had no contact with you “ Carlos explained to Max.

silence filled the room, when suddenly pings of notifications sounded all over the rooms.

And Charles couldn’t help but whistle.

“Well he sure does move past” he had added.

Your story

As Max looked at his phone. Your Ig story flashed. His heart had started to hurt and the feeling of a pit in his stomach grew. it was as if someone punched him right in the gut.

And another notification ping had popped . And it only made Max’s stomach churn even further.

landonorris

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loverofpiggies · 4 months ago

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Beginning | Previous | Next

Check out my Etsy!

I'm sad to admit I've always been cursed at finishing chapters. Can't tell you how many times I just threw down a gradient over some dialogue and said 'scene'! And half the time the dialogue is bad.

Anyway, "Your Favorite Season" or chapter 2, has officially concluded!

I'm almost completely done drawing up chapter 3, coloring just takes a long time. I know people are wondering what's going on with Simon, but I promise you, the wait will be worth it. Or, I hope it'll be worth it. There's some super important storytelling build up that HAS to happen before Simon returns, and you'll see why, when it happens. He's guaranteed to return in chapter 4, at the very least! And I think you'll like what I got planned.

Also sorry to the Adventure Time tags. I uhhh. I can't stop drawing.

Oh! Also I'm doing two conventions, back to back. Las Cruces comic con this weekend, and Colorado Springs Comic con next weekend! CSCC in particular is a madhouse, and back to back shows are INSANE and a lot of work, so updates will probably be way slower for a little while. I'll probably be drawing pages during my downtime, but coloring takes more focus. That, and the next chapter needs new backgrounds, too.

Anyway, if you happen to be going to either of those two events, my table is under the name 'Crayon Queen Creations', so feel free to stop by!

Now that all that dialogue is out of the way, enjoy!

#adventure time #adventure time fionna and cake #fionna and cake #artists on tumblr #fionna campbell #fionna the human #winter king #the winter king #fionna and cake fanart

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moviecritc · 6 months ago

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strawberry shortcake ⋆ carlos sainz smau

pairing: carlos sainz x reader (fc: various from pinterest)

summary: everyone is surprised about the woman that carlos is dating, knowing how classy he is

warnings: some hate comments

a/n: i'm blonde and i'm planing to do pink highlights for this summer, so this seemed fun to do <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted!

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,409 others

yourusername 9 to 5 🌶️

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yourbff stop being so cool you're making others seem lame

user1 is this carlos new gf?

user2 i think she is! they were seen together two weeks ago, he soft launched a dinner and now she's posting watching the race, so they probably are

alexandrasaintmleux ohh gorgeous 😍 liked by author

user3 girl you're like 27 what are you doing dying your hair pink

user4 nah some people are allergic to having personality

carlossainz55 🥰🌶️

user5 pls tell me that he's just being friendly user6 no bc what is he doing with a girl like that... she looks so messy user7 that's exactly what i was thinking! nothing against her, but she's not the type of woman for carlos

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user1 i'm sorry, but she's a no for me

user2 she works in fashion????

user3 ultimate cool girl frr

user4 ok i've stalked her and she is GORGEOUSSS, and effortlestly cool?? i would die for being half cool of her

user5 dying my hair pink rn

user6 i can't believe there's people saying that she's not enough for carlos?? girl, carlos is not enough for HER

user7 FRRR she is THAT GIRL, in capital letters and bold

user8 i've dig a little and i found a few things: she was born in ireland (irish queen, i can't imagine how cool is to hear her talk), studied marketing at trinity college and moved to london a few years ago, she was a month in madrid last march (probably when she met carlos)

user9 i mean cool, but please go touch some grass

carlossainz55 just posted!

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 32,654 others

carlossainz55 So excited to race in Australia this weekend 🔜 🇦🇺

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yourusername 🤞🏻🔜

user1 SHE'S COMING TO A RACE? user2 honestly i would be embarrased to go to a gp with her

user4 carlos you have to update your taste in women bc wtf

user5 imagine calling yourself a carlos fan and hating on his gf who literally did nothing

user6 we're not hating, she's just vulgar, that's factual

user7 i can't believe people is making this post all about his relationship

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user1 her outfits are in another level

user2 Carlos couldn't stop touching her, he's DOWN BAD

user3 she looks so sweet, i don't understand the hate

user4 she's iconic, you guys are just boring people

yourusername just posted on her story!

[caption 1: gettin ready for the race 💋] [caption 2: thank you for this @scuderiaferrari]

replies

carlossainz55 c'mere i need my good luck kiss

carlossainz55 i mean you ARE the prettiest and i'm the luckiest

user1 ok you actually look nice

user2 first time i see one of the wags being grateful with the team

Carlos interview after quali

f1 just posted!

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 23,0129 others

f1 CARLOS SAINZ WINS IN AUSTRALIA 🤩

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user1 SMOOOTHHH 🌶🌶

user2 and this man doesn't have a seat?? be ffr

user3 ALL I SEE IS SAINZ, ALL I SEE IS CARLOS SAINZ 💅🏼

user4 and that podium>>>>>

user5 YESSS his gf was there and looked so so happy user6 omg i saw it!!

yourusername VAMOSS ❤️💛

user7 oh hi y/n user8 you speak spanish? user9 i love her. i don't care you guys don't, but she's da best

carlossainz55 just posted!

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 72,102 others

carlossainz55 Unforgettable weekend ❤️💛

tagged; yourusername

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yourusername Beyond proud of you darling ❤️🥹 liked by author

carlossainz55 Te amo ❤️ user2 AAAAHH I LOVE EM user3 brb im taking a bath with a toaster

user1 so we're hard launching now?

user2 she's his lucky charms, 100% sure

user3 bro casually hard launches in his race win post

user4 carlos and y/n picture was a jumpscare. but like a good jumpscare, and not scary at all im actually in love with them

user5 looking for a third?

yourusername just posted!

liked by carlossainz55, yourbff and 9,427 others

yourusername Left the office to support this handsome fella 💞💞

tagged; carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 Te amo, hermosa. My lucky charm 🍀👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

yourusername Can't wait to the next one 😊😊 user2 I CAN'T THEY'RE TOO PRECIOUS user3 there's nothing better than private but not secret but also not too private relationships

user1 I thought i was early but carlos' already here

user4 and they've been dating for over a year, if i had to wait so much to post carlos sainz i would've died

user5 ugly as fuck liked by author

user6 not y/n liking it- user7 LMAO I ADORE HER

alexandrasaintmleux Coolest ❤️

yourusername i'm afraid that's you hun ❤️ user8 this is so cute ngl user9 wags that get along with each other >>>

user10 y/n, do you speak spanish?

yourusername Un poco, Carlos me está enseñando 🥰 (a little bit, Carlos is teaching me)

elleuk and carlossainz55 just posted!

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 12,012 more

elleuk He was the only non-Red Bull Racing race winner in last season in Formula 1, and the first one this year. And althought his place in F1 is still unknown, it is certain that Carlos Sainz has already left a legacy in the sport.

The April issue of ELLE UK is out March 28. Read the interview at the link in our bio.

view all comments

user1 Oh we all know who edited this pictures

user6 and he even changed the pfp to the first one, he's obsessed

carlossainz55 Thinking of pursuing a modeling career after this

yourusername You should. I'll edit your pics 🤝 user3 i'll tell my kids they were adam and eve

user2 the pictures are fabulous

user7 we all say together: thanks y/n

user4 WE'RE BEING FED WITH THIS PICTURES

user5 why is anybody talking about the interview?? he's the CUTEST talking about her

user8 YESS, i read it and i died of sweetness user9 they're so wholesome i love them

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almostempty · 3 days ago

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right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part one

wc: 12.5k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART TWO HERE

summary: rebuilding your life, chasing cans, and hitchin’ a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

to my pedrostories secret santa recipient @katiexpunk: this was a challenge for ya gurl to be srs (and it’s not a tentacle gangbang, i lied in ur asks babe i’m srry) i hope i hit the mark on a handful of the prompts though, i had high hopes that i could really challenge myself and deliver some breeding kink cowboy but i fear it’s more of a creampie kink—i hope that still hits, i have horse knowledge, but only rodeo adjacent experience so if any rodeo queens find glaring mistakes pls forgive me — but happy holidays bb, i really hope you enjoy-- EDIT: I MADE IT TOO GIRTHY (or something?? sorry!!) and had to split it into two parts, the second part will be up and linked as asap as possible, and i'll add the full text to ao3 so it'll be in one spot

tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, guilty yearnful joel, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin’ that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta–mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am

thanks: to @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, ideas, etc.

The sun beats down on the gravel driveway as you pull your truck toward the old house. It looks almost the same as it did the summers you spent here as a kid when it was your grandparents–the peeling white paint on the porch railing, and the barn standing sturdy, but weathered further down the driveway. The fields stretched on as you rolled down the driveway, dotted with occasional wildflowers and critters dashing into the denser brush.

The air blows warm through the window, same as you remember, but the weight of the memories feels different now. The summers used to feel endless here, the fields seemed endless, as did the sky. It all used to feel so liberating. It’s not an endless summer now. Everything looks smaller and more weathered.

Except for the shiny white PVC fences on the other side of the driveway and the modern-looking house and barn built on the same soil you used to spend hours patrolling with your pony, Clover. She’d search for the best bits of grass as you laid across her back coming up with stories—some days you were an old-timey cowgirl traveling west or Clover was a wild horse you were training or you were on a quest to a magical kingdom together.

But now it’s a new home for whoever bought up the parceled land your dad sold to cover the updates on the house when he inherited it. Someone with enough money for a fancy barn and shiny truck. You pull to a stop and hop out of the cab, still scanning the neighbor's property, making your first impression.

Your dad emerges from the barn, wiping his hands on a faded rag. He gives you a smile and a nod. “About time you showed up,” he calls, his voice warm and teasing. “Thought maybe you had changed your mind.”

You shake your head softly, rolling your eyes. “Nope. Nothing worth staying in that city for.”

The gravel crunches under your boots as you round the bed to grab one of your boxes. All your belongings fit into a few boxes. At least, everything that mattered to you, everything that was still you. “Where do you want this?” You wonder how you’re going to manage living in the same house with your dad now that you’re an adult.

“Just set it inside,” he said, gesturing to the house. “We’ll get you sorted after we have something to eat.”

As you followed him toward the house, the outline of the neighbor's property loomed large. The barn caught your eye. It was close. A pair of horses stood in the near pasture, swishing their tails in the afternoon heat. The contrast was stark. Where your dad’s place still carried the scrapes and scuffs of decades–theirs looked new and polished. Smug even. Can a house be smug?

“The neighbors are closer than I thought.” You cross the porch, the nostalgic screen door squeaking as your dad ushers you inside.

“Don’t mind it. We look out for each other.” He points to the room you stayed in as a kid. “He damn near built the place by himself, and helped me with the new roof on this place.”

You shoot him a sharp look. “You said you were gonna hire roofers instead of climbing around up there at your age.” He shrugs you off. Always stubborn. Convinced he can do it better and cheaper. Despite the toll on his body.

“Paid him to help,” he argues, “wasn’t up there by myself. You don’t gotta worry about me like that.”

You set your box down at the end of the twin-size bed, the room falling quiet for a moment. Your dad stays planted in the doorway, but his brows pinch and lips purse briefly before he lets out a breath. You scan the room, gaze landing on the floorboards, waiting.

Instead of addressing the elephant in the room, he says, “You hungry?”

You grin at that, letting out a shaky breath. Your father’s daughter, neither of you likes to dig into your feelings. He taught you to show love through actions, like keeping you fed, taking on hard labor jobs without a complaint, or changing your windshield wipers before the rainy season starts and you’re cursing yours out.

“Yeah,” you say, brushing past the knot in your chest. “Starving.”

The rumble of a diesel engine jolts you awake the next morning, the deep growly sound reverberating through the walls like thunder on an otherwise quiet morning. You groaned, stretching and blinking blearily at the pale light filtering in through the old curtains. It was barely dawn yet, which explains the dull headache you’ve got.

Sleep had been restless. Tangled thoughts, ruminating on what you’d left behind. A failed engagement, the job you hated, the mix of excuses you had rehearsed for why you’d come back. You’d hoped coming here would ease the ache, but just when you were finally falling back asleep—the truck from hell pulled up to the house.

The engine is already cut off, but now you can hear voices on the porch. Your dad’s, low and steady, just a hum, and another unfamiliar drawl. Whoever it is, they’re carrying on like the rest of the world wasn’t still trying to wake up.

You drag yourself out of bed, wearing your soft sleep shorts and a thin shirt. The worn fabric clings to your body in places it shouldn’t, but you’re not thinking about being presentable, you aren’t really thinking at all yet. You drag your feet crossing to the kitchen to pour yourself coffee, for a brief moment you miss the coffee shop you used to stop at on the way to your old job, but the familiar roast your dad’s been loyal to has its charm. Like the free coffee at an AA meeting. It’s there and you need something to keep you going.

You push past the squeaky screen door, stepping out onto the porch. Your dad sits on the worn bench, coffee in hand. Next to him, leaning casually against the railing is a man you don’t recognize. His black Stetson gives him a classic cowboy silhouette, the morning sun catches on the sharp cut of his jaw and the scruff on his cheeks. His plaid shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, his jeans are worn and dusty in a way that speaks to more than just appearances.

He straightens when he sees you, pulling his hat off with one hand in a fluid, effortless motion. “Mornin’,” he says, voice low and rich. “You must be the daughter. Joel Miller.”

You take a sip of your coffee. “Morning,” you mutter, voice still thick from sleep. “You always roll up this early, or is today special?”

Your dad shoots a look at you, but Joel just chuckles softly.

“Guessin’ you’re not a morning person?”

Your eyes are narrow, defensive. “I’m just fine in the mornings,” you say in a clipped tone that doesn’t support your statement. “Just not when I’m woken up by a jet engine at the asscrack of dawn.” The chill in the brisk morning air causes you to shiver for a moment somehow making you look more irritated.

Joel glances at your dad with a faint smirk before tipping his hat to you. “Noted.”

Your dad laughs. “Should’ve heard her when she was ten,” he says leaning back. “Wouldn’t let anyone tell her what to do. Still doesn’t take shit from anyone I guess.”

“I’m right here,” you mutter, glaring at him.

“Just sayin’,” your dad replies, raising his mug in mock surrender. He turns back to Joel and they resume their conversation about fence posts or something equally riveting. You let your eyes roam as you wake up, drinking the rest of your coffee, tuning in and out of their conversation about their plans for the day.

The easy camaraderie between the two of them was clear. Like a friendship forged through shared labor and quiet mornings. They flow between their plans for work and that subtle gossiping that men do–convinced it isn’t really gossip–as they share updates about other folks in town and a few of the local businesses.

“What about you?” Joel asks, turning to you and pulling you out of the fog. “You’re back for a while then?”

It’s an innocent question, but it grates at you anyway. You stiffen. “Yeah, just taking some time,” you say vaguely.

Joel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push for a real answer. You can feel the weight of his curiosity in the air between you. He looks to your dad, who doesn’t elaborate, letting something unspoken pass between them.

“Well,” Joel drawls, “good timing. Lot of work to do this time of year. If you’re up for it.”

The comment makes you pull a face. “I’m familiar with hard work,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended.

Joel’s lips quirk again, into something like a smirk this time. “I’m sure you are,” he says with the faintest edge of a challenge.

He takes a long swig from his stainless steel travel mug, trying to fix his eyes on the horizon. But damn, if it isn’t a challenge to see you standing there, looking every bit like you’d just rolled out of bed. In a shirt too damn thin for a morning like this, leaving too little to the imagination.

He knew he shouldn’t be noticing something like that, shouldn’t look at you like that–especially not while you’re standing next to your dad. Hell, he shouldn’t want to look at all, but his eyes betray him. Darting for just a moment to your soft curves and the evidence of the chill in the air–the impression of your stiff nipples protruding in the soft fabric.

Christ. He swallows hard, landing his eyes back on the scowl you wear on your face. You’re his friend's daughter. It just ain’t right. Sweet young thing like you. He battles the devil on his shoulder that reminds him you aren’t a kid. You’re a woman. A grown woman with your own life and clearly your share of grit, if the sharpness in your voice was anything to go by.

He shifts on his feet, forcing his attention back to your dad who was still chuckling softly at something. Joel didn’t catch the joke, head too full of thoughts about you–or how to not think about you. He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, unsettling him in front of your dad.

You and him made loose plans for the day while Joel’s mind continued to wander. He shouldn’t have asked about why you were back. Your answer was vague, brushing him off like it was a privilege he hadn’t earned. For some reason that lodged it in his head further. He wanted to know more, even if he shouldn’t.

Your dad stood up, stretching and declaring that all of you have work to do. You take that as your cue to head back inside, leaving the screen door swinging behind you. Joel lets out a low breath, shaking his head as he turns back to your dad.

“She’s a spitfire,” Joel comments, keeping his tone neutral.

“She is,” your dad agrees, adjusting his hat. “Good to have her back.”

Joel huffs a small laugh, “S’pose we could use a strong woman around here. Keep us in line.”

“No doubt she will,” your dad says, clapping him on the shoulder. The whole exchange stuck with Joel though. Something under that edge of yours, something unpolished that has him curious in a way he isn’t used to. He shakes his head knowing it isn’t his place to go digging.

Your dad starts down the front steps. “Let’s get moving, then.” Joel moves mechanically, boots falling in line with your dad’s, but his mind is half on you—in that t-shirt, with that scowl on your face, and that faraway look that he’d like to unravel.

You were used to hard work but your muscles weren’t exactly dialed in for the functional conditioning. It was humbling as you found yourself aching and exhausted by the end of the night. However, the fatigue did make it easier to fall asleep once your head hit the pillow instead of spiraling on about your failures until the birds started chirping.

The next few days gave you a jump start into the rural routine. In bed early, up before the sun. Hot showers before dinner to wash away the layer of sweat and sweet-smelling dust from the pine shavings and hay. You found yourself looking forward to the strong coffee and the cool morning air before you started with your day.

Your dad, and Joel, learned quickly to let you wake up rather than ask questions as they caught up on their plans before heading out together or splitting up. You didn’t mind listening, but you could feel Joel’s eyes lingering on you now and then. It made your spine straighten, determined to hide the sore muscles in your shoulders from him. If he was waiting to hear a complaint from you it was never gonna come.

Despite getting more rest and having an endless list of labor to keep you moving–you often found yourself working solo and in silence during the day. A silence that your mind was more than happy to fill. You rehashed memories and dissected those little moments from your relationship with your ex-fiance that you wish you had seen more clearly at the time.

You’re deep in one of those memories, mindlessly stacking bales of hay onto the trailer for a delivery your dad is making tomorrow when Joel enters the other end of the barn. He leans against the door, arms crossed loosely over his chest, just watching you work. The warm scent of hay fills the air, grounding and everpresent in his life.

It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a common chore he’d do without thinking twice. But watching you was a whole different story. Your shirt was damp with sweat as you leaned into the work like you’d done it your whole life. You climb up a stack of bales and toss down some from the top of the next row, unaware of his presence.

He is mesmerized by you. The sharp look on your face like you were mulling over an argument, the fluid movements as you worked, and the determination radiating off of you as you worked at an urgent pace.

His gaze drifts lower as you climb down and bend to heave another bale onto the flatbed trailer. The muscles in his jaw tense as he lingers on the curve of your back as you bend to grab another. The way your legs shift as you work. The outline of your body in that shirt, the soft grunt you let out as you hoist another bale had him thinking indecent thoughts before he could stop himself.

Joel drags his hand over his face, fingers brushing his scruffy jaw. Heat burning within him that has nothing to do with the Texas sun transforms into irritation. He was considering copping out and disappearing before you even noticed him when he was outed by the damn barn cats.

The orange cat comes sprinting towards him, but it’s the black and white one meow-yelling at him down the aisle that catches your attention. A dull thud echoes through the barn as you drop another bale and watch as Joel squats down to give the cats the attention they demand. You watch, catching your breath. He’s gentle with them, murmuring something you can’t hear before he stands and strolls toward you.

“Afternoon,” he greets you in his deep baritone voice. Joel grabs the two-string bale of hay in front of you and drops it on the trailer with ease, grabbing another before you can interject.

“I can handle it.” You huff as you resume your task.

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replies smoothly, setting another down. “Thought it’d go faster with two sets of hands.”

“I wasn’t in a hurry.” You eye him warily for a moment before slipping into a coordinated dance like it was natural. Tossing the rest that needed to be loaded up into the aisle for him to grab. You work in silence, just the sounds of hay shifting and boots scuffing against the barn floor.

You break the silence first. “Dad says you and your brother hit the rodeo circuit in the summer. That true?”

Joel huffs a soft laugh. “True.”

“You compete?”

“Team roping,” he says, his voice warming slightly. “Me and Tommy hit most of the circuits within a day's drive from here. Keeps us outta trouble.”

You roll your eyes. “Hard to picture you in trouble, cowboy.”

Joel’s smirk returned, faint but there. “You’d be surprised, sweetheart.” He matches your playful tone.

His words linger as you work, stirring something you don’t quite know what to do with. Your mind drifts to the idea of rodeoing, the adrenaline of it, the discipline it demands. You forgot how much you missed it, how much you gave up chasing a life that didn’t pan out the way you hoped.

Joel shifts beside you, the faint scrape of his boots pulling you back to the present. You glance at him, catching the way his shirt clung slightly to his back, the easy strength in the way he moves.

For a moment, the quiet feels comfortable. Easy. The steady rhythm fills the space. But eventually, Joel speaks again.

“Your dad said you used to spend summers out here,” he says, in a low and easy tone.

“Yeah,” you say, a little out of breath from the exertion. “When I was a kid.”

Joel brushes some loose hay off of his shirt. “Guessin’ it’s different now.”

“Everything’s different now,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

His brow furrows slightly. “What brought you back?”

You hesitate, not looking him in the eye. You’re searching for an answer in the dust particles caught in a beam of sunlight. “Just needed time to…rebuild.” It’s still vague.

“You runnin’ from something?”

You tense at that, before covering it in sarcasm. “I’m not an outlaw,” you jest, earning you a small smile. He doesn’t press further, but you feel his eyes on you, steady, and patient like he’s waiting in case you offer more.

“It’s not as simple as people make it sound,” you say finally, the words slipping out before can stop them. “Starting over, that is.” You sit on a bale and pull your work gloves off, running the back of your hand over your forehead smearing sweat and dust in a most unsatisfying way.

“No, it ain’t,” he adds quietly.

Something in his tone makes your chest tighten, but you ignore the sensation. “What about you? How’d you end up here?”

“Had to start over myself, I reckon,” he muses, dusting off his hands before sitting down next to you. The words hang in the air, heavier than you expected. He doesn’t look at you, instead, he watches the cats play with a piece of baling twine. “This place made it easier—focusing on getting the house built and getting the business running. Your dad helped too.”

That catches you off guard. “My dad?”

Joel nods, finally meeting your eyes. “Just seemed to understand, I guess.”

You stare at him. You’re disarmed by the softness in his tone. Like there’s more beneath the surface if you ask for it.

Joel feels the air thicken. He takes in the way your sweat-damp shirt clings to you, and the heavy rise and fall of your chest. For a split second, an image flashes in his mind—your chest heaving for a very different reason, your skin flushed and shining. His throat tightens, and he looks away quickly, cursing himself for letting his thoughts slip.

The cats weave between your legs, easing the silence. But the air between you still feels charged. Your thighs are nearly touching. The proximity feels overwhelming for some reason and you're suddenly caught up in the details of his profile as he stares down at the floor. The lines at the corner of his eye, his nose, his lips.

He clears his throat and slaps a palm on his thigh. “Well,” he starts, standing up rather abruptly. “Just came by to check-in. See how you’re settling in.”

“What?” You frown. You miss the grimace that flashes on his face, your eyes drawn to the cats darting away from the two of you. “How I’m settling in?”

“Yeah, you know…” he gestures vaguely around the barn and your brows furrow and your eyes sharpen at him. Irritation flickers behind your eyes.

“I told you I’m not afraid of hard work,” you snap, jumping to your feet in front of him.

“That’s not what I meant,” he grumbles, like you’re misunderstanding him.

“Did my dad send you to ‘check in’ on me? Or did you want to see if I could keep up?”

“It ain’t like that.” He says lowly.

“Right.” You cut, crossing your arms. You’re over this rollercoaster of a conversation. Your eyes catch on the deep crease between his brows and the glint in his dark eyes. Something flares in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s indignation or something else entirely. “Then what is it?”

His jaw tightens, gaze locked with yours. Something unspoken flickers in his expression. But instead of answering, he straightens, stepping back. “Doesn’t matter,” he says curtly.

Your stomach twists at the coolness of his tone, the connection you just felt snapping like a wire.

“This was a mistake,” Joel mutters to himself.

“What was?” you asked, your voice deadly quiet.

Joel only shakes his head before striding toward the far door. His boots echo on the floor and the cats follow after him like shadows, their tails swishing as they dart out into the sun. Joel pauses in the doorway, glancing back with a look you don’t understand.

“Don’t work too hard now.” His voice carries easily before he stalks off.

Your thoughts have you spinning. “The fuck is his problem?” you wonder out loud, sharp in the warm air. In the space he left.

But deep down, you can feel the edge of something else. Something more than frustration, curling low and unwelcome in your chest. The weight of his gaze was still lingering, and try as you might, you can’t ignore the way his presence had pressed into every corner of the barn, or the faint scent of leather and bourbon that still hangs in the air.

Your routine locks into place, and the days begin to pass in a blur. Joel stops by for coffee and acts like the conversation you had in the barn never happened. The stoic, gruff cowboy thing works just fine with you.

Except for the moments you catch him staring at you like he’s trying to find an answer to something he never asked.

If you’re honest, though, despite your hostility, you seem to catch yourself studying him with the same frequency and intensity. You’re loath to admit you catch yourself hung up on his obnoxiously broad shoulders, his arms sculpted from the physically demanding work, and that gravelly morning voice he has before he finishes his coffee.

Aside from whatever Joel’s problem with you is, everything else seems to be falling into place. You catch up on your dad’s list of projects. You pick up a part-time job at the feed store in town, keeping yourself too busy to have idle time and too tired to dwell on the past or the future. You get to know folks in the town while you work at the register.

The town seems smaller than it was when you were a kid, but there’s also a charm in the simplicity that you find comfort in. The regulars keep you up to date on the town gossip, and you’re laughing loudly with your boss, Linda, one day over a joke she’d never admit to teaching you when your neighbor struts up to you with a list in hand for a bulk feed order.

You’re cordial to him and the man at his side who gives you a flirty wink that has you raising your eyebrows in disbelief for a moment before you put it together. “You must be Tommy?”

He grins brightly and offers his hand. “And you must be the neighbor?” You give him your name and a polite smile. Your eyes flick to Joel, taking in his neutral expression. His hands rest in his pockets, but his posture is loose, his broad shoulders back in a way that draws your eye before you can stop yourself.

As you enter the details of their order into the prehistoric computer, Linda chats both of the men up, asking them about their horses and when their next rodeo is.

You give Joel his total and take his payment, trying not to roll your eyes when he doesn’t make eye contact with you. You’re ready for the interaction with him to be over when Linda puts you on the spot.

“This one’s been talking about looking for a project horse of her own.” She nods her head toward you. “You boys have any leads for her?”

You can feel your face heating up as they both look at you. It’s not like it was a secret, but you weren’t planning on making Joel privy to your plans. You still haven’t forgotten the way he said this was a mistake after having one conversation with you. Or the way he is always looking at you. Like you don’t belong here or something.

“I’ll do you one better,” Tommy says. “We’ve got a couple of colts just getting started under saddle. They could use the miles, and they’re real sweet-tempered if you wanna come by during the week.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” You give him a genuine smile. “I’m actually going to take a look at one that’s got potential this weekend. Marilyn from the post office said her cousin’s got a six-year-old quarter horse she’d sell for a steal.”

Joel lets out a dismissive laugh under his breath. “You mean that Hancock gelding? The blue roan?”

“Yeah.” You confirm, slowly growing more confused by the reactions on all of their faces. “Why?”

Linda’s mouth is hanging open like you said the devil was gonna sell you his horse. Tommy gives you a modest smile like you’ve told him two plus two equals eight, but he’s too polite to correct you. Joel’s expression remains unreadable, but the crease between his brows deepens.

“Am I missing something?” you ask, hoping for an explanation. You do not like feeling like you’re being played for a fool.

“She’d sell that horse for a dime and a handshake,” Linda says. “Her cousin broke her jaw getting bucked off that horse. That’s why he’s been out to pasture ever since.”

You’re quiet for a beat before the familiar challenge and determination wrap around your heart. “Can’t hurt to look,” you say with a shrug.

“Hancocks are notoriously stubborn and broncy,” Joel adds, his tone low and edged with warning.

“They’re also incredibly smart, loyal, and full of try if you earn their trust and ask ‘em the right way,” you shoot back, meeting his eyes for just a moment too long. Why does it always feel like he thinks you’re out of your element? Does he think you’re incompetent? It only strengthens your desire to prove him wrong.

Joel’s mouth presses into a thin line, but his gaze doesn’t waver, and it stirs something uncomfortable low in your chest.

“So I’ve heard,” Tommy cuts the tension simmering between you and Joel. “Offer still stands if he doesn’t work out.”

“Thanks.” You pointedly direct your appreciation to Tommy, not looking back at Joel. “We’ll give you a call when the order’s in.”

They take that as their signal to move along. You think that would be the end of the drama for the day, but Linda’s got one more tidbit in store after the door closes behind the two men.

“God, those two are so hot it’s unbearable,” she sighs. It catches you off guard, and you blink at her. “Too bad they’re cowboy Casanovas.”

“What?” You give her a scrupulous look, shifting on your feet as she leans against the counter.

“Oh, yeah,” Linda says with a knowing smirk. “Every buckle bunny in a three-county radius knows those two. I hear they have a sign-up sheet at the trailer.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, but the image comes unbidden—Joel, shirtless and panting, sweat glistening on his chest, his jeans slung low on his hips, every muscle taut as he leans over some woman. His gravelly drawl slides through your mind like warm honey as he murmurs something low and dirty, but you can’t make out the words. Your thought derails violently, and you scowl at yourself, heat rushing up your neck, but Linda’s still talking.

“I’d stand in line for either of ‘em if I were single,” she adds with a shrug.

The image morphs into smug Joel tipping his hat, a self-satisfied grin on his face as some random woman climbs out of his bed. Your throat tightens unexpectedly, and you shove the thought away, scowling at the knot of irritation it leaves behind.

The trailer rocks faintly as you haul it slowly down the driveway toward the barn. Blue shifts inside, and the loud thud of him pawing at the floor, anxious to get out of the small space, echoes loudly in the driveway as you ease to a stop. You cut the engine and hop out of the cab, you can hear your dad’s boots on the porch steps before he’s striding toward you. “You actually brought him home, huh?”

“You knew I would.” You grin. Your dad unlatches the trailer door and you slip past the divider to untie your new gelding and back him out of the trailer. Blue’s ears flick rapidly and he snorts like a dragon, wary of his unfamiliar surroundings, but you steady him with a calm voice and wait for him to drop his head before coaxing him backward.

His hooves hit the solid ground and he blows out a sharp breath, shaking his neck to de-stress. “He’s gonna be perfect,” you say, running a hand along his neck. “Just needs someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Your dad gives you a look that says he knows he couldn’t change your mind if he tried. His gaze flicks over Blue’s body, taking in his confirmation and conditioning, the scar on his back leg, the brand on his flank, and the stocky ranch horse build. “Linda said he’s got a bad reputation.”

“Linda says a lot of things,” you shoot back, leading Blue toward the barn. “He was misunderstood. Had a rough start, that’s all. That girl who got bucked off never shoulda had him to begin with—not after he’d been out to pasture for so long. She was scared, and he felt it.”

Your dad hums, the kind of sound that tells you he’s skeptical but not enough to argue. “Well, he’s in good hands now.”

“And we both know I like a challenge,” you say with a steady voice, edged with something sharper.

The sound of boots on gravel draws your attention and you glance back to see Joel strolling over from the direction of his property. His hat tipped low as his dark eyes flick between you and Blue.

“Afternoon,” he calls, steady and smooth.

Your dad turns and gives him a nod. “Joel.”

“That the Hancock gelding?”

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, adjusting Blue’s halter.

Joel steps closer, his expression unreadable as he studies the gelding. Blue swishes his tail before shifting his weight, resting one back leg like he’s already starting to relax. Joel walks a circle around Blue, before pausing next to your dad. “Well-built,” he comments. “Is he sound?”

You can barely hold back your eye-roll. “I had Barb meet me at the farm for a pre-purchase exam. Passed with flying colors.” You swallow down your irritation. Once again Joel thinks you’re a fool? That you’d go off and pick up a horse without a vet inspection?

Before you give Joel a piece of your mind you take a steadying breath, grounding yourself and whispering into Blue’s ear. “He might doubt both of us but he’ll be eating his fuckin’ words real quick once you and I get started.” With that, you turn away and lead Blue to the barn.

Joel watches the two of you walk off, resting his hand on his hip. “She got a death wish or somethin’?” he grumbles.

Your dad crosses his arms, both men still watching the barn door where the two of you disappeared. “She’s tougher than she looks. And she’s got more patience than the two of us combined—for animals that is. Lord knows she’ll let us have it just for looking at her sideways.”

Joel grunts, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck at the thought of you telling him off. “Hope you’re right.”

“It’ll be good for her to have her own project. Haven’t seen that light in her eyes since she got here. S’about time she started moving on.” Your dad’s words eat at Joel. He still wants to know what you’re trying to rebuild from, but he doesn’t ask. Letting the silence stretch before your dad continues.

“Plus, she’s got the right touch for it,” your dad drawls, tone laced with pride. “Always drawn to the ones that seem a little rough around the edges.”

Joel doesn’t respond right away. His eyes narrow on the horizon, but his gaze flicks back to where you walked off, the sway of your hips lingering longer than it should. The deeply twisted interpretation of your dad’s words messing with his mind.

In the barn, Blue seems less concerned about getting the lay of the land now that there’s food in front of him. He munches greedily, tearing hay out of the net tied in the stall. You’re buzzing with a mix of emotions, already imagining the next steps for the two of you.

Your thoughts fall back on Joel and your dad, their low voices carrying faintly in the warm air. You can picture Joel still standing there, one hand on his hip, eyes fixed on you, that infuriatingly unreadable look expression he always has.

Your chest tightens, heat rising in your cheeks as you lean against the stall door. You hate how Joel looks at you like that. Like he’s waiting for you to fuck up. To prove him right. Like he’s already decided you’re in over your head.

“He doesn’t know me,” you mutter under your breath, “doesn’t know you,” you tell Blue, “doesn’t know shit.”

Blue snorts softly, and you take that as his agreement, a smile tugging at your lips.

Days blur into a steady rhythm—early mornings with Blue, afternoons at the feed store, and long evenings under the arena lights. Each ride sharpens your connection with him, his turns growing tighter, his strides more confident. Progress comes in small, steady victories, each one lighting a spark of hope in your chest.

One afternoon, when the sun hangs low in the sky, painting the fields with warm hues of orange and gold. From his spot near the fence of his own property, Joel leans one arm against the top rail, his black felt Stetson shading his eyes. Across the way, you’re working with Blue in the makeshift round pen.

Joel can tell from the way you hold yourself that you’re tired. Your shoulders seem stiff and your jaw tense. But you don’t stop. Your voice carries in the breeze, warm and steady as you encourage Blue to make another pass.

The horse resists, throwing his head and stomping at the ground, but you don’t flinch. You give him the space to settle before asking again. Joel’s lips twitch, with a hint of a smile. You’ve got grit.

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re working off more than just the horse’s rough edges. You move with purpose and focus, but with a weight that doesn’t seem entirely about Blue.

From where Joel stands, he can’t make out every detail, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from lingering. You draw his attention with a pull that he can’t resist.

Against his better judgment. He traces the line of your spine as you step forward, the way your hips shift when you pivot. He knows better than to look, knows it’s wrong, but he can’t stop himself.

Blue gives in, his steps evening out as he settles into a steady rhythm circling you. Joel watches as you slow him to a halt. The tension in your posture releases and you reach out with ease and satisfaction to stroke Blue’s neck.

That invisible pull between you draws your eyes to where Joel is standing. Your face hardens when you catch him observing your training session. He gives you a nod before pushing off the rail and heading into the barn.

He catches glimpses of you working together in the mornings and evenings. He tries to stop himself from watching, but it’s useless. He catches himself inadvertently timing out his schedule to be able to keep an eye on you. Tells himself he wants to be sure someone’s keeping an eye on you in case something goes wrong. Or that he’s curious about your progress.

He can admit he admires your perseverance and the skill you have. He would never admit the way he finds himself waking up hard and aching thinking about you and what it’d feel like to have your hips rocking on his lap instead of a saddle, your tits bouncing in his face, and your sweet blissed out smile. And when trudges up the steps of your porch in the mornings to see if your dad needs anything from town—he prays neither of you can see the remnants of his sins in his eyes.

He can’t stop himself from trying to talk to you, though. One morning he asks straight up, “How’s the project horse coming along?” He tries to sound casual, averting his eyes as he sips his coffee.

Your smile flickers, equal parts excitement and hesitation flashing across your face. “Good,” you say after a beat, sitting on the wooden bench. “He learns quick, got good stamina and drive.”

Joel hums, tilting his head slightly. “He give you any trouble?”

Your jaw tenses, though you try to hide it. “Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply, tightly.

Joel nods. “Good,” he says simply, but he still looks at you, like there’s something else weighing on his mind.

Your dad clears his throat, breaking the tension. “She’s got him started on the pattern already.”

“You gonna run barrels?” Joel asks, curiosity sneaking into his eyes.

“That’s the plan.”

Joel hums, taking a long pause. “You wanna run him in a real arena? Bring him over to get some practice in with the right kind of footing and see what he’s really got for a motor?”

Your eyes narrow and your shoulders tighten, straining with disbelief. A real arena? It’s like nothing you do is ever good enough for him. “We’re getting along just fine as is, thanks.” The words are dripping with venom as you slip back into the house letting the screendoor slam shut behind you.

Joel’s brows furrow. “Didn’t mean no harm, by it,” he says to your dad. “My mistake,” he adds gruffly.

Your dad looks a bit miffed at the sharpness of your rejection but gives Joel a shrug back. “She’s always gotta do it her own way.”

The conversation with Joel sticks in your mind. You’re still chewing it over that evening as you run Blue through some drills, working on his lead changes and corners. When you finally bring him down to walk to cool down you hear the sound of hooves hitting the dirt across the field. Sharp and rhythmic. You walk Blue along the fence line. Pausing when you catch sight of Joel and Tommy in their outdoor arena.

Their horses move like extensions of their bodies. You loosen the reins, letting Blue’s head sway with every step as you stay transfixed on the two men. Tommy’s bay gelding moves with a quick, snappy stride. His hindquarters tucked under him as he spins on a dime at Tommy’s commend. You can feel the thrill and see Tommy’s grin from where you sit. It’s infectious. You roll your eyes as he tosses his rope catching the dummy steer in a single fluid motion.

You make another lap before you let yourself study Joel.

He’s riding his big red mare, her muscles rippling in the sun as she powers forward at a lope. Joel’s hand is steady on the reins, his posture relaxed but exact. Every movement he makes is calculated, and deliberate, yet to an untrained eye seems completely natural and fluid. Like he and his horse were born to do it. He barely shifts to ask the mare to pivot. Her body arcs beautifully, bending around his leg as they make a sharp turn toward the roping dummy.

You’ve seen good riders before, but there’s something different about the way works. He doesn’t just ride—he leads. Every muscle he moves is a quiet conversation between him and his horse. It’s seamless and controlled. And damn if it isn’t mesmerizing.

He leans forward slightly, and your mouth goes dry watching his arm flexing as he tosses the rope with precision. His red mare halts instantly, kicking up dirt around her hooves. Joel adjusts his hat with a smooth motion, you can see the focus on his face. Serious and competitive.

You swallow hard as you change directions, still walking on a loose rein very aware that Blue’s sweat is long dried by now. You feel warmth burning in your core that has nothing to do with your tired muscles. He looks good out there. Too good. The kind of good that makes you think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. Your eyes drift, taking in the way his jeans hug his thighs, the line of his back as he shifts in the saddle. You imagine his hands, thick, precise fingers. Something coils hot and tight within you. You shake your head at yourself. You are not having those thoughts about Joel Miller who thinks you don’t know your ass from your elbow. You swing your leg over the back of the saddle dropping to your feet. Loosening your cinch and still trying to shake your thoughts out of your mind when you hear Tommy hollering at you.

“Watch and learn, neighbor!” Tommy calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You glance up, cheeks burning as Tommy tips his hat your way with his charismatic grin. Joel follows his gaze, dark eyes locking on you for a moment. Tommy gives you a demonstration of his prowess with the rope–as if you hadn’t been watching–but, Joel says nothing before turning his mare and heading in the opposite direction.

His cool look sends a shiver down your spine.

You walk back to the barn, and the sound of their horses fades behind you, but that image of Joel sears into your mind. His commanding and maddeningly attractive exhibition just stoked a fire you’re desperate to ignore.

You have the same stubborn streak as your father and you’d be damned if you’re gonna cave and ask Joel to use his facility. You find a summer barrel series in a nearby town with low entry fees.

You start hauling Blue out to get some experience. At first, his runs are clumsy, but as you get your miles in, his turns get tighter, his confidence grows, and your times get quicker. And you quickly feel like the two of you are ready to enter your first rodeo.

The air smells like dirt and livestock, as you unload your horse and tie him to the side of your trailer. There’s a hum from the generators, buzzing conversations, and the occasional whinny of a horse or thud as one paws at the dirt.

You had made a point not to ask if Joel and Tommy would be attending, but you catch his familiar shoulders tapering to his slim waist, with one boot on the lowest rung of the fence a few yards ahead when you head toward the warmup pen before your division gets called. He isn’t even facing your direction but you instinctively square your shoulders and raise your chin. You wonder if he’s just here to see if you’re going to fail. Or maybe he’s just watching to earn some other woman’s favor.

Something ugly simmers in your blood and your chest feels tight. You attribute it to irritation, refusing to acknowledge any alternate reasons. You’re going to prove him wrong.

You’re still staring at him when he turns to say something to the man standing next to him. You grit your teeth. Superstitious–as every cowboy is–his usual salt and pepper scruff is neatly trimmed, he’s got on a pair of deep blue Wranglers–nicer than you figure he owned, and a crisp long-sleeve pearl snap. Dressed to earn Lady Luck’s favor.

The devil on your shoulder whispers a thought in Linda’s teasing voice. He doesn’t need to do all that to get lucky. You take a deep breath and peel yourself away from the sight. You’re here to focus on Blue, not your asshole neighbor and his conquests.

Despite trying to let go of your issues with Joel, a scowl stays plastered on your face throughout your warmup. Blue picks up on your distraction and he’s a little hot, as you head him toward the alleyway when it’s time for your run. Against your will, your eyes search for Joel. A wash of heat floods your veins when you find him already watching you. He mouths good luck at you and you can only manage a curt smile before you’re pushing Blue to a lope, making one tight circle before you cross the start. The sound of his hooves pounding into the dirt matches the blood pounding in your ears. The burst of adrenaline is instant. The run isn’t perfect. He breaks his stride around the second barrel and you lose time nudging him back into rhythm, but you finish the pattern without knocking anything over. The announcer calls your time as you slow to a trot, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It’s such a blur you don’t think to look for Joel. You don’t think about him at all until you’re untacking Blue at your trailer, brushing sweat marks from his coat when movement near another horse trailer catches your eye.

Joel stands close to a woman with long, shiny dark hair. She flashes a wide smile, leaning toward him and resting a hand lightly on his arm. The sight makes you grimace. You shove down the feeling. “None of our business,” you mutter to Blue as you keep brushing. But, your eyes flick back despite yourself. She tilts her head, laughing at something he says, or doesn’t say, you can’t tell. He stands stiffly, hands in his pockets. You can’t see his face from your angle.

The woman reaches to touch him again, and you feel a headache brewing in the back of your skull. Joel glances away from her, landing in your direction for the shortest moment, before his weight shifts and he takes a small step back. You scowl again, tossing your brush back into the tack room shelf with more force than necessary making Blue toss his head. Your heart thuds louder than it should and you run a hand over Blue’s cheek, murmuring softly to calm both him and yourself. When you glance back, the woman is still talking, but Joel’s looking at you again. His dark eyes are sharp under the brim of his hat. He nods, barely noticeable, before turning away from the woman entirely. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to take another deep breath before loading Blue back into the trailer to head out. You weren’t sticking around to watch any of the other events. Especially not the team roping.

You smile when you pull onto the highway. You count the day as a success and feel ready to enter a bigger rodeo. The idea makes you glow. Finally feeling like you’re getting back to your true self. You feel like a new woman compared to the version of you that showed packed up her truck desperate to put miles between your ex-fiance and your corporate nightmare.

“It’s not that bad,” you argue, crossing your arms as your dad leans against the truck with a skeptical look. “The hell it’s not,” he replies, gesturing toward the trailer. “That’s floor is one step away from dropping your horse onto the damn highway.” You sigh, dragging a hand over your face. “I know,” you grumble lowly, disappointment sinking in your stomach. “I was just hoping you’d see something I didn’t.” “Sorry kid,” your dad says. “S’fine. I’ll figure something out. Or just eat the entry fees I paid.” “Or,” he says pointedly, “you could ask Joel.” You glare at him, fire burning in your chest. “I don’t need his charity.” “Ain’t charity,” he interrupts your sour attitude with a gruff tone. “He’s practically family. Don’t let your pride get in the way of your goals.” The words stick, heavy and uncomfortable. You’ve got half a mind to keep arguing. Joel might be your dad’s best friend, but he’s nothing like family to you. But before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re dragging yourself up the steps of Joel’s front porch.

You realize as your boot hits the last step that you’ve never been to his place. He always offers to have you and your dad over for a whiskey or for a fire out back, but you always brush him off. You see why your dad takes him up on it though.

It’s beautifully made with stunning wooden chairs and a bench for seating on the porch. You’d consider complimenting him on his craftsmanship if you weren’t already dreading what you’re about to say. Joel opens the door, his hat already in hand like he’d been expecting you. “Somethin’ wrong?” “Yeah,” you admit, trying not to hesitate. “Uh, trailer’s shot,” you point your thumb in the direction of your dad’s place. “Was wondering if you’d have room in your trailer to haul Blue with your horses.”

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. The gleam in his eye makes you want to say never mind. You brace for a smart-ass remark. “‘Course,” he replies. You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. “Of course?”

He leans back into the house to grab something, then he’s handing you his keys. “Load your tack up tonight, and get your bags in the living quarters.” “No need,” you shake your head, leaving him holding the keys between you. “I’ve got the truck. And a tent.”

Joel leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You pointedly avoid how his sleeves strain around his biceps. “You’re ridin’ with us. Not riskin’ that truck dyin’ on the highway.” You glare, lips pressed into a thin line. Of course, you’ve got a trailer with a busted floor and a truck with more miles than you’d like to admit on it—while Joel has a shiny truck from this decade and a horse trailer with a tack room and living quarters. Probably has AC and everything.

You catch the glint in his eye, realizing you’re the one asking for a favor and you steel yourself, reminding yourself to bite your tongue.

“Fine,” you grit out, holding your hand out for the keys.

The truck hums beneath you, the steady vibration doing nothing to ease the thick tension in the cab. Tommy’s passed out in the back seat, his hat tipped low over his face, leaving you alone with Joel and the steady drone of the country ballad playing through the speakers.

“You always listen to this?” you ask, breaking the silence as you reach toward the radio.

Joel glances at you, one hand resting casually on the wheel. “Somethin’ wrong with it?”

“Didn’t know you were a ‘sad songs for sad cowboys’ kind of guy,” you mutter, flicking through stations before he can answer.

Joel doesn’t stop you, but when you pause on something irritatingly upbeat, his hand moves toward the knob just as yours does.

Your fingers brush his, and the contact jolts through you like a live wire.

You pull back instinctively, your breath catching as your heart slams against your ribs. Joel pauses for half a second before retreating, his knuckles tightening faintly on the wheel.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Joel stares ahead, his jaw clenching as his thoughts spiral. He knew telling you to ride with him was playing with fire. But he can’t stay away from the heat. You glance out the window, pretending the spark you felt wasn’t real. It’s just Joel, always better than you, always an ass. The charged silence stretches on though, every shift of his hand on the wheel drawing your attention. Every shallow breath reminds you of his proximity.

“This’ll do,” you say tightly. Joel huffs softly, but says nothing, keeping his eyes pointed straight ahead. Neither of you speaks again for the rest of the drive, but the weight of the accidental touch remains, thick and suffocating. The rodeo grounds are already alive with motion by the time you’re parked and unloading the horses. The evening sun casts an amber glow over the circus of trucks, tents, and trailers. You help get the portable fence set up and the horses settled before the three of you head off to check in at the visitor's tent and get your meal tickets.

The smell of barbecue wafts through the air and you get in line to fill your plate. Folks chat eagerly. Tommy strikes up an easy conversation with a group of riders near the picnic tables.

You watch as some folks head back to their campsites, hesitating on whether you want to do the same or find a table. Joel passes you and sits at a nearby table and before you can debate any longer a voice interrupts your thoughts. “Long travel day?” the wiry cowboy drawls, tipping his hat and gesturing to the bench next to him. “Take a seat.”

You give him a quizzical look, but you’re hungry enough to take the opportunity to sit and eat.

“Name’s Cody.” He introduces himself while you eat. He tells you he’s a bull rider. Asks if you’re runnin’ barrels tomorrow. He’s chatty with a smooth and easy voice and a playful look on his youthful face. You answer his questions, politely, suddenly keenly aware of Joel’s gaze boring into the back of your head. It makes your spine prickle with something you can’t name. The heat of his stare burns into you, fierce and unwavering, making every laugh at Cody’s jokes feel like defiance. Cody continues on and you find it easy to listen to his stories, but you can’t help feeling compelled to glance over your shoulder betraying the distraction you’re trying to ignore. Cody points out some of the other riders he knows and invites you to come hang out at their campsite and have a drink. You’re still searching for the right words when you catch sight of Joel walking swiftly past your table. He mutters something to Tommy–who seems to be proving Linda’s rumors true with a woman wrapped around his arm and batting her lashes at him–and stalks off. Your stomach twists as you watch him go, irritation flaring hot and fast. “The fuck is his problem?” you mutter under your breath, turning back to your plate. Cody shrugs, clearly oblivious. “Who knows? Anyway—” But you’ve already tuned him out, your eyes following the path Joel struts down before he disappears.

You joined Cody and his friend for one drink, hoping it would ease your nerves. He had a kind group, a little rough around the edges, but tough as nails like you’d expect bull riders to be. They kept your mind distracted with their wild stories, but you decided to head back to the trailer before anyone got drunk and stupid. The walk back to the trailer feels longer than it should, every step weighed down by something stirring within you, something that has you on edge. You check on the horses before pulling the door open and climbing into the living quarters. The cool night air hasn’t soothed the heat that’s been simmering within you since dinner—or since that moment in the truck if you’re honest. You toe off your boots before looking up to see Joel, leaning against the wall, his jaw set tight, and his eyes sharp as they snap to yours.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, realizing it’s just the two of you in the small space. “Reckon he’ll be out til the sun's up,” Joel says in a quiet, low tone. “Alright,” you nod. Another point goes to Linda for that one, you figure. Joel’s jaw remains set in that infuriatingly unreadable way that seems to be his signature look. The dim light in the trailer casts sharp shadows across his face that darken his gaze. “You enjoy yourself? With your new friend?” he asks, his voice raw, edged with something you can’t place. You stop short, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?” He steps closer, reaching past you to hang his hat on the hook by the door. “Took your time gettin’ back.” He says, his eyes flick over you, dark and assessing.

You’re acutely aware of the scent of the campfire on your shirt and beer on your lips. It swirls with his leather and bourbon musk like they were designed to enhance each other. His words sink in, cutting and daring. “What’s your point?” “Did you fuck him?” The bluntness of it knocks the breath out of you. Your mouth falls open. Shock and fury battling for control as you glare at him. “What did you just say to me?” “You heard me, sweetheart,” Joel says, his voice calm but razor-sharp. “Just wondering if that cowboy got what he was after.” It takes everything in you not to slap him across the face. “What the fuck,” you hiss, stepping closer, your fists clenched at your sides, “makes you think you’ve got the right to ask me that, Joel?”

He shrugs his shoulders, but his expression remains cold. “Lookin’ out for you. Your dad’d kill me if I didn’t.” You laugh bitterly. “Bullshit.” His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Silence fanning the flames within you. “You aren’t my dad,” you snap, voice trembling with rage. “And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me who I can or can’t fuck.” Joel’s eyes narrow, his shoulders stiffening as he steps even closer. “That’s not what I—” “Save it,” you cut him off, word sharp as a whip. “I don’t know why you think I’m so weak or clueless all the time. Like I can’t handle myself. Like I’m some kid you’ve gotta babysit.”

Joel’s expression hardens, his dark eyes flash with something that looks like hurt beneath his anger. “That’s what you think I see?” his words come out like a dangerous growl. “That’s how you’ve acted toward me since day one,” you fire back, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “If you don’t respect me, Joel, just stay out of my business.” His chest rises and falls sharply, his breath warm against your skin as the air between you thickens. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” he grits, voice tight with frustration. “Explain it to me then,” you challenge. Shaking with the force of everything you’ve been holding back. “Or stay away from me if I’m such a thorn in your side.” He works his jaw, and for a moment you’re glued to the corded muscle in his neck and the exposed golden brown skin of his chest. He glares at you, making no move to back off. His voice drops sinfully low and quiet. “You really wanna know?” “Yeah,” you breathe, heart pounding like it’s trying to break through your ribcage. “I do.” His hand moves fast, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make your breath catch. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he accuses in a rough and uneven voice. You blink. “What?” “You heard me,” he rumbles, dark eyes locked on yours. “From the first day, you showed up here, lookin’ at me like you had somethin’ to prove.” Anger burns in your veins. “How does that make me your problem?” His grip tightens, his body presses closer. “You ain’t my problem,” he mutters. Guilt twists into his words, “Shouldn’t even be lookin’ at you like this. S’wrong.” He swallows thickly, only sharpening the edge in his voice. “But I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, and it’s pissin’ me off.” His confession hits you like a brick over the head. The trailer is silent, but the sound of the blood rushing in your ears, and your ragged exhale seems deafening.

“Then stop,” you challenge, voice trembling with defiance. “If it’s so wrong, just leave me alone.” Joel’s eyes darken, his other hand settles on your hip, fingers digging into you. “Can’t,” he says, voice so thick with frustration, it sounds like it hurts. “Don’t think I want to.”

Silence stretches and time feels thick and warped. Your ragged breaths fill the space. His eyes search for a reason to stop, but he finds none.

You don’t get a chance to reply before he drops your wrist to wrap a large hand around your jaw, pulling you into a feverish kiss. Nothing gentle about it. It’s raw and desperate, equal parts frustration and hunger. Your fingers curl into his shirt as if you could pull him any closer as your teeth scrape over his bottom lip, in a sharp, biting challenge that makes him groan low in his throat. He angles your face so he can kiss you deeper, harder, until your knees feel like they might give out. Your mind goes blank, flashing white with anger and need. All you can process is the hot slip of his tongue against yours and the sharp bristle of his facial hair against your tender lips. Your back hits the cool metal wall of the trailer before you realize your feet had even moved. Joel’s hips press into yours, pinning you against his body–solid and unrelenting. His lips trail down your jaw to your neck, the edge of his teeth scraping at your skin. The rasp of his stubble sends sparks to your core, and you dig your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. Pulling him toward you, needing him in a way that verges on painful. He lifts his mouth, breathing hotly against your damp neck. “This what you want?” he says, his tone matching the burning desperation coursing through you. “You want me to fuck it outta you? Til you can’t keep runnin’ your mouth at me?” “Shut up,” you snap, but the way your body arches into him betrays the hostility in your voice and the subtle stretch makes you keenly aware of how wet and needy you are already. He makes a low, guttural noise in his throat that makes your cunt throb. His hand slides down to grip your thigh, hitching it around his waist as he grinds into you. The hard ridge of his cock pressing into you makes you gasp. The sound you make sends heat ripping through him like wildfire. We can’t, he thinks, but the words die on his tongue. The thought of how wrong this is flashes in his mind, but it’s drowned out by the way you’re looking at him. The way your nails dig into his shoulders as you pull him closer, your breath hot and shaky against his cheek. He can’t think. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to. Not when you’re so soft and warm and furious beneath him. He’s helpless. His hand slips under your shirt, rough fingers brushing over soft skin, leaving a searing trail that grounds you as your mind spins. He pushes your shirt up, baring you to the dim light of the trailer. Time slips back into the warped, syrupy dimension as you absorb the unbidden lust and awe in his eyes. You’re the one exposed, but you feel like you’re seeing something just as naked in his face. Time catches up and you pull your shirt the rest of the way over your head, committing to sin wordlessly. You shiver at the sudden contrast between the heat radiating off of his body and the cool air hitting your flesh. “Joel,” you gasp, your head tipping back as his mouth closes over your nipple like a wet furnace. His teeth graze the sensitive skin causing you to spew breathy curses over the top of his head. They only spur him on. He sucks hard enough that you tug him off you by his hair, but he only switches to your breast, delivering the same delicious punishment as his fingers roll and pinch at the wet, puffy, flesh he abandons.

It’s like he can predict your needs before your mind can, biting down harshly enough to pull you away from the angry, hissing thoughts and keep you desperate to stay lost in the physical sensations. He palms the full weight of your tits, gliding his thumbs over both, slick and shining with his saliva. He presses them together before releasing them. “Goddamn,” he murmurs, taken by the way they bounce more perfectly than he could’ve imagined. It’s wrong to have you topless and panting beneath him, but his name falls so sweetly from your lips that it doesn’t matter. The heavy-lidded look you have makes him feel confirmed. When you moan lowly as the pain melts into pleasure when he kneads your soft, slippery skin, his cock aches and weeps for you. He needs more. He needs everything. Needs to wreck you, to see you so fucked out the only thing you can say is his name.

It’s an exquisite brand of torture.

You hate how good this feels, how badly you want him to keep going. To show you every move he knows. To break you down with his hands and mouth. You should push him away, tell him to fuck off. But your body doesn’t want that. You don’t want that. You roll your hips against his, begging wordlessly for more, as you tug at his hair hard enough to pull a throaty groan from deep within him. The sound he makes nearly has you short-circuiting, but he doesn’t give you the respite to fall apart. His hands are everywhere, frenzied like he’s losing control. Hasn’t he already lost it? You wonder distantly. Slowly, you realize he’s littering dirty little threats and filthy promises into your warm flesh. You hate the way his words make you shiver, how much you crave every pledge he makes. “You’re gonna feel me for days, sweetheart,” he husks hotly, just behind your ear. It’s a commitment you unwittingly pray he keeps. Some part buried deep within you blooms at the idea of feeling every memory of his touch as you go about your day tomorrow. “Get to it then,” you snap, hands reaching for his belt with urgency. Joel doesn’t need any more encouragement. His hand slips between your legs, teasing you through the soaked fabric of your underwear, and the sound you make at the pressure—the breathless, needy, whimper—makes him forget how to breathe. All he knows is that he needs to hear it again while he fucks into your soft, warm cunt.

He wrenches your jeans open and works them down your thighs as you tear at his shirt buttons. He’s barely able to let you go long enough to pull his shirt off; watching you kick your pants off the rest of the way makes him nearly trip over himself.

The air between your naked chests is sticky and warm. He dips his hand beneath the hem of your underwear, fingertips gliding over the soft hair on your mound making his eyes roll back.

The edges of your vision blurs when he prods two big fingers between your slick lips, but you’re glued to the way his dark eyes are nearly black now. He looks every bit possessed by a beast, and fuck if you aren’t driven by the sick desire to make him snap.

“You like having me touch you like this, don’t you?” His voice drips with need underscored by the slick sounds coming from between your legs.

“No.” You rasp, as you grind your clit against his palm. He pumps two fingers inside of you, curling them just right to make you moan.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he drawls, thick like honey. You grip the muscle flexing in his arm to steady yourself. His concentration and competence makes your walls flutter around his fingers.

“You’re gonna come for me, right here.” He declares.

You shake your head. “I’m not—fuck—I won’t.”

“You will,” he interrupts. Dark and calm. His pace quickens, fingers focused on the spot inside you that makes you a mindless wreck. His thumb draws circles around your clit.

“Can feel how close you are.” Your hips rock and your muscles all pull taut. “If you’d quit fuckin’ fighting me.” He somehow crowds even closer to you. You feel like you’re about to snap when he pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling empty and ragged. “But you’re too fuckin’ stubborn, ain’t you?”

“Joel,” you whine, angry and devastated. “I hate you.”

You grip the back of his neck with one hand, and both of you watch as he finally takes himself out of his jeans.

The view makes you salivate.

Everything about Joel is rugged and masculine. The muscles carved into his arms and chest. The trail of dark hair leading down his stomach that thickens around his base. The deep flushed color of his thick cock. The ragged inhale he makes when he presses the blunt tip against the drenched fabric that clings to your swollen folds.

“Say it,” he growls, rubbing along your barely clothed seam.

“I hate you,” you whisper unconvincingly, digging your nails into the back of his neck and arching off of the wall.

“Tell me you want it.” You can’t tell if it’s a demand or a plea. This strain in his voice and the muscles tensing across his broad frame make you tremble.

“I don’t.” You lie. You snake one hand down your body, peeling your ruined panties to the side so he can slot his tip at your dripping entrance. You tilt forward, impatiently, stretching around him just enough to override your filter.

“Oh, fuck,” you start. Unable to stop the stream of whispered curses from rolling off your tongue.

“Yeah,” Joel rasps, inching deeper inside of your tight, warm walls. He feeds himself into you slowly, the overwhelming fullness as you adjust makes your thighs shake. He pulls out and you whine, unable to say a word before he’s moving, dipping you onto the thin trailer mattress and slipping your underwear down your legs.

“Gonna fuck you full,” he mutters. You spread your legs, making room for him to settle above you. He draws his cock back through your lips, coating himself in your arousal before driving into you with a powerful stroke.

Your lips part, sucking in air as he sets a pace. He fills you deeper than you’ve ever felt, relentlessly making room for himself as he saws in and out of you. It’s powerful and primal, but refined by his athleticism. Fluid rolling hips and his strong core make you see stars as he fucks into you.

“That’s right,” he rasps above you, and you realize he’s responding to you.

“So good,” you’re murmuring, “so full.”

“Taking it like you were made for it,” he says to himself. The intensity of your tight, warm pussy coaxing him deeper makes him spill his thoughts. Unfiltered.

He sets a pace, slow and deliberate at first, each stroke filling you completely before pulling back, leaving you desperate for more. The friction is maddening, plunging his length into your sensitive walls as he pins you beneath his hard body.

“You feel that?” His breath is hot against your neck. “Feel how deep I am? How I’m splittin’ you open?”

You nod frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as you whimper his name.

Joel’s control falters at the sound of it, his hips snapping harder, faster, as his desperation takes over. “Thought about this,” he rasps, his voice hoarse. “Fuckin’ hell, I’ve thought about this too damn much. But you’re better than I ever imagined.”

His confession sends a jolt through you, but you’re too far gone to process it, your body tightening around him as pleasure builds again, sharper and hotter than before.

“Joel, please.”

“Fuck,” he chokes the word out, his pace faltering for a split second before he slams into you harder, deeper. “Say that again.”

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking as your release breaks through you, leaving you gasping and cursing.

Joel’s hips snap erratically, pinning you into the mattress with a tight grip, as he buries his cock as deep as he can inside of you.

“Gonna fill you up,” he mutters, his voice ragged. “Every drop, sweetheart.” Make you mine, he barely keeps the last thought in his head.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chant as your body jolts with each collision with his.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters, cock driving deeper and swelling at your words. “That’s it. Take it all, sweetheart.”

Your release hits again, your body trembling violently. Or maybe it never stopped—he only drew it out of you in waves.

Joel curses low, his hips slamming into yours one last time before you feel him pulsing inside of you, hot and thick.

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on the mess between your thighs. “Look at that,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent. His wide hands slide up the back of your thighs, bending your knees to your chest so he can watch the mix of your releases glistening and dripping from you.

He takes one hand and drags it through the mess, pushing it back up inside of you. You squirm, sensitive to the touch, but fixated on whatever is burning behind his eyes.

You wait for him to say something characteristically Joel.

To dismiss you as naive, to rub it in that he broke you down. That he had you crying his name. That you shouldn’t have done that.

But it never comes.

You’re convinced he was trying to put you in your place. To give you another reminder that he thinks you’re useless and clueless. You’re too wrapped up in the thoughts to speak or move.

He doesn’t say anything at all which nearly makes it worse.

Instead, he pins you under a heavy arm, holding you against him until you both doze off. Succumbing to exhaustion.

-> PART TWO

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🤠🤎

tagging the usual babes in case you want some cowboy!joel for christmas too:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist

@94namkooksworld

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift24 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Cut Deep

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bad news brings the worst out in Logan. [reader is a mutant who can see emotions]

Characters: Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

Note: since this is my first time writing this character, I'd especially appreciate some extra feedback

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, me and Scott just wanted to let everyone know we chose a date!” Jean is ecstatic. You can feel her happiness radiating from her. Despite how often you try to block those vibrations out, hers are so strong, you can’t. “And we’ll send out the invitations soon. Be sure to RSVP! And we know you all can make it because it will be right here at the mansion.”

She beams as Scott drapes his arm around her shoulders. They are such a cute couple. Perfect. Everyone on the team loves them. Well, everyone except for the one person roiling with black clouds of spite.

You glance over at Logan as he stews by the door. He stands with his burly arms crossed, his biceps straining in his leather jacket. He glares at the happy couple and curls his lip. Everyone also knows that he has a rotten infatuation with Jean, too. You feel bad for him really.

He catches you staring before you can tear your eyes away. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. You quickly look away and swallow. You get up and go to Jean and Scott.

“Congrats, guys,” you smile, “let me know if you need any help with planning.”

“Thank you. Of course,” Jean smiles as Scott echoes her.

You make room for another well-wisher and back away, basking in the good energy all around. Well, mostly. You feel Logan steaming still but you refuse to look at him. You know how he gets when he’s upset. You don’t need to be able to see into his mind to know he’s pissed off.

As the room converges on the happily engaged couple, you opt to leave before the noise can get too much. You’re always a bit more sensitive with the extra effort of trying to block out the sounds that you don’t want to hear. It’s like a buzz on the other side of a wall. If the door cracks open, it will all blast in like a sonic wave.

You go into the library and reclaim the book you set left carelessly open on a leather armrest. It’s a history of mutants written in the 1700s. A secret tome Professor Xavier collected among his endless search for compatriots, both past and present.

Some you know from the history taught in schools for non-mutants. Like the queen accused of witchcraft or the countless people executed for the very same. Emperors who’s legacies are chalked up to folktale and superstition over the reality of their beings.

You sit up as you sense the shift in the air. That greyness seeps in before the door opens. You know who it is already yet you’re surprised to see him enter. Logan scowls as his eyes pinpoint at you. His rage continues to burn hotter and hotter.

“Oh, hi,” you close the book, “sorry, did you need the library--”

“I need you to stop tryna poke around in my head,” he growls.

You flinch as you stand slowly, “I... I don’t do that. Those are the rules. I stay in my own.”

“I saw you staring,” he accuses.

“I just looked. I could... feel. That I can’t control,” you explain. “Sorry.”

“Feel what? Huh? What do you think you know?”

You clear your throat and shake your head. “Nothing, I don’t know anything.”

“Damn right, you know shit all, little girl,” he stomps over to you.

You gulp as you stare back at him. Logan, Wolverine, X-Man. He’s one of the most admired and well-known mutants alive but that’s all you know of him. You’ve seen him hundreds of times in the mansion, but only in passing. He never wanted to talk to you, only Jean. As far as you knew, he didn’t even know you existed.

“That’s correct,” you agree.

You peek down at the book in your hand. You should put it back. You sniff but as you go to turn, he rips you back by your upper arm. His grip is steel. You face him and wince as he squeezes enough to make your bones ache.

“You think I’m what? Some pathetic creature that’s slathering over another guy’s girl?” He barks.

You shake your head, “nope. No. I wouldn’t... know.”

“You fucking wouldn’t,” he grits, his fingertips pushing into your tender arm. You let out a squeak. “Me? What about you? Always around. Riding her fucking coat tails. All for what? Cause you can tell when I’m having a bad fucking day. Every day is fucking bad.”

You stare at him. A vein bulges in his forehead, another in his neck, and he’s slightly red with his fury. You don’t understand why he’s mad at you. Well, people often don’t aim their emotions in the right direction. Often, there’s too much for them to feel and it just spills over.

Logan’s aura deepens to a thick black. Darker and bolder than anything you’ve ever witnessed. It tendrils around you as you squirm. You clasp onto the book and try to wiggle free as the blood throbs in your arm.

“Ouch. Please, let me go. I wasn’t meaning to--”

“You’re never going to be her. You know that? You won’t even be an X-Man. You’re just one of Charles’ pets.” He reaches for the book and rips it from your hand. “He keeps you in your birdcage and you flutter around and read these stupid things.”

He tosses the book onto the floor and steps closer. You step back and whine. He keeps on until you’re against a shelf.

“You’ll never be her and I’ll never have her,” he grits out. “So, we’ll compromise.” He grabs your neck and you writhe and whimper. “What do you feel now, huh?”

A wisp of red tinges the black fog unfurling from his broad shoulders. More anger but something more. Lust. Love is a delicate pink or a pale purple, but lust is a deep and lurid crimson. Mixed with his rage, it is something more. It’s a tainted hue.

“I can pretend. You should try to do the same.”

“Please,” you press your hands against his stomach.

“Don’t try that shit,” he drags his other hand down your arm and puts his knuckles to your side. He lets his claws out just enough to jab you. “You can’t get in my head. Professor made well sure of that.”

You squeak and shake your head, “I wouldn’t-- Logan, please--”

“Shut your damn mouth and pull your pants down. I ain’t got all day,” he snarls.

“What?” You bat your eyes as they glisten. “No, no, what are you--”

His claws poke you again, easily piercing your shirt and scratching your skin. You lean back into the shelf as you peel your hands away from him. He glowers at you as he releases your neck. He crowds you in as you wait just a moment longer, hoping, wishing he would go.

You lower your hands cautiously. You drop your gaze, humiliated. You shake as you hook your thumbs under your waistband and push your leggings down. You gulp as your eyes tingle.

He grabs your shoulder and spins you to face the shelf. You let out an oomph as you catch yourself against the books. He trails up to the back of your neck and pinches. You squeal into a sob. Your disbelief bubbles to horror. You brace the wood as he yanks on your panties.

“Fucking girl,” he mutters. “Lookin’ at me... what d’ya fucking know?”

“Logan--”

“Stop saying my goddamn name.” He shoves your head so it hits a shelf and you groan. Ouch.

You close your eyes and lean your forehead on the wood. Jean says you need to breathe. Centre yourself. It’s hard when you’re terrified.

You inhale, taking in his emotion, his anger, even a tinge of that other desire that drives him so slap your ass. He digs in his nails as you babble. You gather the black cloud and blow it out.

He hisses and recoils as it ripples off of you like fire. He growls and as you go to turn, he sweeps your feet out from under you. You flail as you fall, landing on your elbow so it throbs. You whine and roll onto your stomach. You drag yourself over the floor as he clutches his head and snarls.

“I told ya not to try anything,” he barks.

“Please, please, I didn’t do anything.”

He steps over you and falls to his knees. He straddles you as you claw at the floor, pushing your toes down as you try to escape him. He swats the back of your head so hard your vision blurs. His anger darkness the room and disorients you.

You’ve never felt anything so intense and you feel everything. Love, joy, pain, grief, confusion... fear. His anger strangles you as he forces your head down to the floor, leaning his weight on his head as he pins you.

He raises himself on his knees and shifts. You kick out, thrashing your arms. You open and close your hands and clamp shut your eyes. You can do it. Take his anger in--

You scream as you’re scalded by the corrupt energy pouring from him. No, it’s too much. You’re not ready. All that training and you’re still weak.

You murmur at the floor, “no, no, please, no...”

He traces his hand down your ass and forces his fingers between your thighs. He feels around roughly, scratching your as he flicks along your dry folds. You gulp and heave. Your tears swell in an unstoppable flow.

You slap your hands on the floor and tense as he prods around, dipping a thick digit into your cunt with a grunt. Your legs distend and you push your toes down. He delves, in, out, deeper, harder, smashing into you.

He rips his hand away and you whine again. He leans over you, his hand stretching across your skull entirely. You can feel his strength in your neck. He bends, hot breath scalding your scalp with the flames of his wrath.

You weep as he brings his tip along your flesh and guides it around blindly. He puts more weight onto your head as he stretches you around his tip. You shriek and jut your arm out straight, the edge of the rug curling in your grasp.

“Help, someone! Help--”

He grabs your head with both hands and slams it into the floor. The reverberating impact fractures your voice and thoughts. He rams his hips down and impales you around his thick cock. You murmur as spittle leaks from your mouth and tears continue to smear your face.

He thrusts, holding himself at his limit and well past yours. He grips your skull tighter and tighter with each tilt. He huffs and puffs, growling and groaning as he tears you up from the inside.

Finally, he releases your head. The metallic shink of his claws cuts through the delirium of physical and mental anguish. The pain in your bones can’t compare to the dagger of his anger piercing through your soul.

He stabs his claws into the floor on either side of your neck. The adamantium grazes your skin, keeping you still for fear of cutting deeper. You wheeze and go rigid as he rears back and slams down harder and harder. His flesh clasp louder with each cruel descent.

The black cloud creeps over the floor like heavy fog. It crawls up the walls as a glimmer of red weaves through it. He ruts deeper and deeper, the motion jarring you so that his claws scrape away the skin at your neck.

He bends over you, curling his shoulders as you feel him tense. He exhales as the blackness covers the ceiling and casts you into shadow. You reach to grasp at his claws, slicing your palms helplessly as you cling on.

He thrusts until you feel him in your guts. Once, twice, several time with all the hatred he can summon. He growls and trembles as he spills into you, a heat hotter than even his boiling rage.

Your hands slip from his claws and you spread your bloodied palms on the carpet. You quake in horrified sobs. He buries himself as he lays his entire weight over you limply. He puffs as he dislodged the metal from the floor.

He hangs his head next to yours and sneers, “it shouldn’t be him, Jean.”

You hold your breath. You can’t speak or move for fear of reminding him what he’s just done. Or worse, reigniting his assault.

He groans and slides out, flipping off of you to sit on his ass. He rests his arms on his bent knees and sighs. You watch the black haze dim to a dull grey. He’s still angry but he can contain it. The storm has calmed but it's far from over.

#logan howlett #dark logan howlett #dark!logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #fic #wolverine #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #x men

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thewinchestah · 6 months ago

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"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it.

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form.

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion.

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old.

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance.

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory.

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made. A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you.

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?”

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done.

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred.

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least.

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized.

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far.

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination.

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table. Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many.

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you.

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information.

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia.

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move.

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work.

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless.

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now?

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power.

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm.

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality.

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely.

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes.

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care?

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter.

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face.

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret.

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip.

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face.

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it”

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist.

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved”

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed. Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands.

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen.

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building.

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out.

Mutual destruction assured.

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?”

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words.

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve.

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out.

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too.

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love.

And now he is here.

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you.

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises.

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you. You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble.

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory.

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter.

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks.

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now.

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved.

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do”

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words.

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover.

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld.

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

“Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt.

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.” his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him.

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side.

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you, inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming.

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice.

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand.

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness.

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials.

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through.

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage.

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it.

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make”

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him”

a wrong type of static pricks your lips

“This won’t hurt”

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it.

Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain.

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison.

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal.

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing.

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him.

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought.

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him.

And then he stops.

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret”

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast?

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.”

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance, playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word.

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him.

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you.

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you.

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears.

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

But their machinations are all meaningless.

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

#HEY BUNNY ANON THIS ONE IS FOR YOU I NEVER FORGET A REQUEST I TAKE 5 MONTHS BUT I DONT FORGET IT #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel fic

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year ago

Text

castle on the hill // lando norris

summary: young and in love, with money to burn, lando treats his girlfriend to the winter disney trip she’s always wanted.

pairing: lando norris x youtuber! reader

guys ignore that it says receptors where it’s supposed to say recipes in one of the tweets I have no idea how that happened 😭

landonorris and y/ntube just updated their stories!

liked by riabish, landonorris and 2,345 others

y/ntube walking in a winter wonderland

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maxfewtrell please tell me that you made lando buy a pair of mickey ears

-> y/ntube tackiest ones I could find, sending u pics rn

-> landonorris blocked (i love you and I would wear the tackiest mickey ears in the park just to see you smile)

yourbestfriend marry me pls

-> y/ntube my heart is yours (just do not tell lando under any circumstances)

user god how do i find a lando?

user queen I think u dropped ur crown

user leave ur boyfriend for me queen 🥺😏

-> landonorris no

-> y/ntube double no (sorry love, i hope you find someone who cherishes u!)

y/ntube just updated her story!

landonorris just posted!

liked by maxfewtrell, maxverstappen1, y/ntube and 53,471 others

landonorris i walked with you once upon a dream

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y/ntube guys i cannot make this up, lando is currently being chased around by a mickey mouse actor who wants his autograph but lando thinks this is some kind of "five nights at freddy's shit"

->riabish lando knows that they're just actors in suits, right?

-> y/ntube honestly sometimes i doubt that...he was very starstruck meeting peter parker

-> mclaren so are we expected to keep the mariachi skeletons out of the garage in mexico?

maxfewtrell if she's wearing mickey ears and eating a mickey cookie, does it become cannibalism?

maxverstappen1 lando norris in mickey mouse ears . . . never thought i would see the day

-> landonorris don't get used to it. you will never see it again

y/ntube all jokes aside, i love you darling

-> landonorris i love you too, my darling darling girl.

-> danielricciardo god he used the words 'darling darling girl', he only ever does that when he's horny, you guys know there are children here, right?

user lmao lando is getting fucking DESTROYED in his own comments section

-> landonorris unfortunately thats not new

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @userlando @lorarri @cartierre @love4lando @oconso @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck @httpiastri @twinkodium

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #ig aus #the christmas collection 2023 #lando norris POV #lando norris smau #Spotify

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eyelessfaces · 2 months ago

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deep crust

firefighter!poe dameron x reader

happy poevember<3 here's this little alternate universe oneshot as a treat! it takes place not too long after the events of ashes to ashes, but you can read this even if you haven't read it (though it's probably more enjoyable if you have the whole context!)

summary: poe is utterly horrified to hear you've never tried a chicago pizza.

warnings: none<3

tags: poe being a drama queen, poe being absolutely whipped, fluff, kissing, just sweet stuff and moments tbh

word count: 1.2k

I gotta admit, my non american ass had heard of chicago style pizza but had never seen what it looked like before writing this so I realized it lowkey looks unappetizing (I'm so sorry chicago people)

heat me up masterlist

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

The topic comes around the first time you officially invite Poe to have dinner at your new apartment. He's properly appalled, his jaw dropping in shock as he lets go of his fork.

“You’ve never had a deep dish?”

You smirk, knowing it would draw this reaction from him – or from anyone you know here, as a matter of fact. You know from experience, and it being so amusing each time kinda participates in the fact you’re refraining yourself from trying those famous Chicago style pizzas.

You give him a shrug of your shoulder, indifferently keeping on chewing on your salad.

“That’s fine. I’m doing fine living this way” you chuckle.

“Oh but you’re missing out.” he shakes his head, his hand closing around his glass of wine. “You don’t know it but you’ll realize and you will hate yourself for not trying them sooner.”

He sips on his wine and you scoff, looking at him, at his handsome face bathed in the warm glow of your apartment light. “You’re so dramatic.”

He points a finger at you, a stern expression over his face. “This is a proportionate reaction.”

You huff out from your nose.

He shakes his head in feign disappointment. “I can’t believe I kissed someone’s mouth who’s never had Chicago pizza” he mutters under his breath, a laugh escaping him when you playfully swat him with the back of your hand.

From there, Poe takes it as his personal mission to get you to try a Chicago pizza.

At first, it’s just a running joke. Every time he sees you, he manages to smoothly slip it into the conversation.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never had a deep dish,” he’ll sigh, shaking his head in fake dismay as you roll your eyes. Or he will go off on mini monologues, exaggerating the “wonders of Chicago’s pizza crust” – as he calls it, then proceeding to babble out an elaborate description of the layers of cheese and sauce with a genuineness that borders on comical.

And each time, you brush him off with a laugh, stubbornly sticking to your claim that you’ll get around to it eventually.

But Poe is nothing if not persistent. And the principle of making you try a Chicago pizza is also what would be considered a date with you.

One evening, you receive a text from him, a link revealing “the top ten pizzerias” in Chicago, even though he knows which one is his personal favorite.

“It’s so you have multiple options to choose from. Whichever seems the most appealing to you” he attaches to the link.

You receive another text not long after. “I’m willing to drop my favorite place but I know the owner and he would be pissed if he learned that the man that put out his kitchen fire went to another pizzeria.”

You can’t help but laugh and text him you will think about it, but he still doesn’t let up, because he has not won until he's leading you arm in arm to a pizzeria.

Finally, the very next morning, you receive another text from him while he’s on shift at the firehouse. “Even my crew thinks it’s crazy you haven’t had a real Chicago pizza. Don’t let us down here.”

You smile, shaking your head as you type back, “You’re relentless, Lieutenant”

Seconds later, his reply comes. “This is important. History is watching”

Characteristically dramatic. Then, a picture pops up. His face, mouth twisted into a small pout, and a something in his pleading eyes that makes you think he knows exactly what he’s doing because you’re quick to text back,

“Fine. Pick me up on Friday”

—

“I’m gonna show you the best in town” he assures you on Friday, his face lit up with excitement and a hand at your back as you get close to his pizzeria of choice.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You know, I have high expectations now”

“Yeah, maybe I’m overselling it,” he laughs. “But trust me” he grins, pushing the door to the place open.

Comes the time you’re served and you take your first sample of your awaited first Chicago deep dish experience. Poe has pushed his own plate aside, waiting for the conclusion, the denouement of that whole affair.

“So?” he asks after a while, forearms leaned against the table as he intently awaits your reaction. His teeth sink into his lip, gaze thoroughly focused on every micro expression of your face as you take your time chewing on your first bite.

You lightly clear your throat once you’re done, taking the time to wipe your mouth with a napkin.

Poe impatiently shifts his position onto his seat, and you take a deep breath for the dramatic effect and impending suspense.

“Don’t get mad,” you start, pinching your lips. He stammers, his expression turning into a remorseful one at the idea you think he would truly be disappointed for you not liking it, his hand reaching for yours over the table. “–I should have listened to you. You weren’t lying” you smirk as you continue, witnessing his face clear up almost instantly, a startled laugh escaping his mouth.

“You had me in the first half” he admits with a grin, leaning back in his seat. “See? I would never lie to you.”

You glance up at him when you savor your next bite, but he’s not eating – he’s just watching you. There's a soft look of satisfaction and an underlying sweetness in his gaze, and the expression is so open and so unmistakably Poe it makes your stomach flip.

“You can breathe now,” you tease, lightly nudging his foot under the table. “Come on, eat before it’s cold”

—

You keep on teasing him when you exit the restaurant, telling him that maybe his reaction was a bit too excessive and dramatic for something that is “just pizza.” Only he’s quick to exaggeratedly counter, telling you that “it’s not just pizza, it’s a life experience”

It’s cold outside as you walk side by side down the street, in a comfortable silence between the both of you.

Your hands lightly brush and Poe's smoothly slides into yours, taking a glance over at you to make sure it is fine, and without even looking over at him, you squeeze his hand in silent assurance, firmly looking ahead of you as the feeling of his touch makes something flutter inside your chest.

His hand is warm and his grip is steady against your fingers numb from the cold, and it feels undoubtedly right to be holding his hand.

When you finally reach your building, he pauses, still holding your hand as he faces you, a soft smirk tugging at his lips.

“Can I kiss you again now that you’ve tried Chicago pizza?”

You laugh wholeheartedly, spontaneously nodding, a wide smile over your face as you lean into him. His lips are soft as they press against yours, his grip on your laced fingers tightening when you rest your other hand at the side of his face.

“Goodnight,” he says quietly, the feel of him lingering as he pulls back with a soft smile.

“Goodnight, Poe.”

You feel hollow saying this, already missing his presence.

You only let him go after kissing him again.

—

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dystopicjumpsuit · 3 months ago

Note

Fox. Stockings. I won't ever be the same.

Out of curiosity, would he want his partner to put them on while he watches? Or would he want to be surprised?

I’m so glad you asked, Alli! I’ve never opened a blank doc as fast in my life as I did when I saw this.

In the Matter of Marshal Commander Fox vs. the Stocking Kink, the Court Finds the Defendant Filthy.

A/N: Great news! The insomnia thotting hours are back. Now if I can just harness them to finish my WIPs.

Pairing: Fox x Reader (Fem; has hair)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings and tags: SMUT; blatant misuse of diplomatic privileges; workplace sex; stocking kink; allusions to bondage and knife play; slight exhibitionism/voyeurism/objectification; minor predator/prey dynamic; oral sex; masturbation; spanking; cum marking; quiet dom!Fox.

Summary: Marshal Commander Fox requires your assistance.

Suggested Listening:

This fic smells like: Jasmin et Cigarette by État Libre D’Orange (condoms and cigarette smoke)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

You’d been reviewing the finer details of a proposed Senate bill for more hours than you could remember. The words seemed to shift and pulse before your gritty eyes, but you were in too deep to notice that you’d reread the same paragraph three times and still didn’t grasp its underlying meaning. A brief knock startled you out of your hyperfocus, and you glanced up from your datapad just as your aide leaned into the room.

“Sorry to bother you, Senator, but a priority delivery just arrived from the Coruscant Guard headquarters. It has a diplomatic seal. I thought you'd want to know right away.”

The kriff?

“You are absolutely correct. Thank you.”

The aide set the parcel on your desk and withdrew, discreetly closing the door on the way out of your office. You took a moment to stretch and yawn before you picked up the pouch and inspected it curiously. It wasn’t the seal that was unusual; the embassy received dozens of such secure deliveries every day. Nor was it unusual for you to receive missives from the Corries: security alerts; logistical updates; requests for information which you routinely ignored, to the chagrin of the Marshal Commander. But a diplomatically sealed delivery from the Coruscant Guard itself? That was unusual.

You broke the seal and dumped out the contents: an official memorandum printed on actual paper, and a small, plain envelope. Damn. If it’s sensitive enough to need to be printed instead of sent as a holo, my day is about to get complicated. You picked up the memo, clenching your jaw as you read the heading.

TO: Senior Representative, Planet Haneli FROM: Marshal Commander Fox, Coruscant Guard SUBJECT: Notice of Compulsory Testimony Under the Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act #192358691 Senator, Due to the Haneli embassy’s persistent lack of cooperation in regards to my repeated official requests for information in the matter of CSF-32610/CG-854201, I have no recourse but to invoke ESEA. Please report to my office tonight at 2100 hours for debriefing. Failure to comply will result in your immediate arrest and detention, and an official investigation will be opened into the matter of your obstructive actions. I trust those steps will be unnecessary. Regards, Marshal Commander Fox

I’m going to murder him. I’m going to make him eat this goddamned sheet of flimsi. I’m going to—wait, what’s in the envelope?

Your hands shook with rage as you tore it open. Inside, you found a brief handwritten note and—you froze, mouth dropping open with shock as you stared wide-eyed at the item inside. Holy Force. You glanced at the clock. Kark, kark, kark. Eight o’clock already. I need to leave now.

You sent a terse comm to your aide to notify your driver that you would require transport immediately, then grabbed the memo and the rest of the delivery, made a quick stop at the refresher, and hurried out of your office. Traffic was kriffed, and you barely made it to the Corrie Guard HQ in time. Luckily, the Commander appeared to have notified his men that you were expected, because nobody stopped you as you strode through the corridors to his office, propelled by adrenaline.

You smacked the control panel to open his door, marched to his desk, and slapped the memo down in front of him.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” you demanded.

“Senator, he replied mildly. “So good of you to join me.”

“You didn’t give me much choice,” you snapped. “Threatening to arrest me? Really, Commander?”

He tapped a button on his vambrace, and the door slid shut behind you, beeping softly as it locked. “That was only half of my message. Did you read the rest?”

“Oh, I read it,” you replied in a dangerous tone. “Every single word.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to repeat myself.”

He stood and moved out from behind his desk. He walked deliberately, purposely invading your space, but you refused to back down. Once he was close enough that his chestplate nearly brushed against you, he stopped and removed his helmet and gloves, meeting your eyes with a hint of a smile.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight,” he murmured, stroking his knuckles lightly across your cheek.

“Thanks, it’s the looming incarceration. Really brings out my eyes.”

He laughed quietly and threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of your skull. He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment before his lips met yours softly. “You didn’t really think I’d arrest you, did you?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had me in binders.”

“Nor the last. But I have something else in mind tonight.”

“So I gathered,” you murmured, kissing him again and again as you began to unbuckle his armor. “Any particular reason we had to do this in your office instead of at the embassy in my lovely and very clean bed?”

“My office is clean.”

Your gaze dropped pointedly to a suspicious stain on the carpet.

“Mostly,” he added.

“If it’s an office hookup you’re after, we could have used mine. It has a sofa, you know. Very roomy. Very soft.”

“No good,” he replied as his lips traveled down your throat. “Has to be here. That way every time I look at my desk, I can remember what you look like spread out on it.”

“Fair enough.” You eased open the seal of his undersuit and pushed it off his shoulders, pausing for a moment to admire the view. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. I’ll never get over you.”

He rumbled in approval as you trailed your hands over his exposed skin, tracing the scars—both familiar and new—and lines of ink.

“What happened here?” you asked, flicking your tongue over a recently healed scar on his shoulder.

“Trando bounty hunter. It’s a boring story.”

“I doubt that,” you replied dryly.

“It was only a scratch, my love,” he murmured. “A bit of plastcrete shrapnel. No need to give me that look.”

“No doubt they gave you another medal for your display case.”

“Not this time,” he chuckled. “But it’s a good story to tell the shinies.”

“You take too many risks.”

“And you’re stalling,” he said in a low voice. “Take it off.”

“Take what off?” you asked, the very picture of innocence.

“Take it off,” he repeated, trailing his fingertips along your neckline. “I want to see you.”

“Say please.”

His fingertips reached the bottom of your neckline and slid beneath the fabric to caress between your breasts. He lowered his face to your shoulder, then grazed his nose along your neck, breathing in your scent before he whispered, “Take off the goddamned dress before I cut it off you.”

You inhaled sharply as your heart began to pound. That was tempting. Very tempting. But the thought of leaving Corrie HQ in nothing but the tattered remains of your senatorial robe was enough to persuade you to choose the wiser option. You began to unbutton the garment slowly.

Fox drew back to lean against his desk, intently watching the progress of your hands as they descended, revealing a hint more skin with each button that opened. At last, you reached the final button and allowed the gown to fall to the floor, fully exposed to his gaze and wearing nothing but the shimmersilk stockings he’d sent in the diplomatic pouch.

His eyes traveled lazily down your body, taking in the sight of you. All the oxygen seemed to disappear from the room. Your skin prickled with awareness, and for an instant, you felt like a prey animal caught in the grip of a dangerous predator. You swallowed as your pulse began to race, but you forced yourself not to cover your vulnerability in the face of his intense scrutiny.

“Turn around,” he ordered quietly.

You complied, resisting the temptation to look back over your shoulder at his reaction. He moved without a sound, and you nearly flinched when his hand slid around your hip and down your thigh, feeling the sheer, satiny fabric that stretched over your flesh. His breath ghosted over your shoulder, soft and warm, triggering a shudder of desire that raced down your spine.

“You did just as I asked,” he murmured, gliding his other hand up your abdomen to cup your breast, squeezing your nipple softly between two fingers.

“Your note was extremely clear,” you replied.

I don’t want to see anything but these when I get you out of that dress tonight. —F.

“And for once, you followed my orders,” he said. His lips grazed along your jaw. “I think that deserves a reward.”

He pulled you back against his body so you could feel his erection grinding against your ass through the stockings. He stroked back up your thigh and between your legs, and when he reached your pussy, he let out a low groan. “Fuck, love, you’ve soaked through them.”

“In my defense,” you said breathlessly, “I had plenty of time to speculate about what you were planning on my drive over.”

The soft puff of his laugh was warm against your skin, and he began to kiss a slow trail down your spine as he knelt behind you. When he reached your ass, he nuzzled against it, rubbing his face over the shimmersilk, kissing and nibbling, taking the fabric between his teeth and letting it snap back against your skin.

“So good for me,” he whispered. “Such a sweet little thing.”

He turned you around, guiding you with his hands on your hips until you stood facing him. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him on his knees for you, gazing up at you with naked desire in his eyes.

“Spread your legs for me, darling. I want to taste you.”

“Who am I to disobey the Marshal Commander?” you asked, your cheeky tone slightly less than convincing thanks to the noticeable rasp in your voice.

He shot you a lopsided grin, and then his hands slid up the backs of your thighs to grip your ass and pull you against his face.

“Fuck!” you gasped as his tongue slid over the gossamer fabric that covered your pussy.

He let out a soft, choked moan as he finally tasted you. The sensation was strange. It felt almost like a tease: you could feel every movement of his lips and tongue over your skin, but it was muted, subdued by the delicate layer between the two of you. His hands roamed greedily over your legs, massaging your flesh, tugging at the stockings, feeling the smooth, satiny fabric.

Abruptly, he pulled away and stood, gripping you by the waist and spinning you around to sit on his desk. He kissed you hard and deeply, then pressed your shoulders back until you were lying down with your legs dangling over the edge. He knelt once again and kissed a path up the inside of your leg until he reached the top of your thigh, then his hands slid up and tugged down the waistband just far enough for his tongue to plunge into you.

Tightening your legs around his head, you let out a hoarse whimper. A deep, satisfied rumble vibrated from his mouth into you as you writhed beneath him. Your fingers found their way into his hair, twining and tugging. All the while, his hands never ceased to explore and tease and play with you, gliding over your thighs as he reveled in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

He sucked and kissed and licked and teased, working you inexorably toward your orgasm, until at last your thighs locked and you clamped your hand over your mouth to muffle your scream of pleasure. With a grunt of displeasure, he reached up and tugged your hand away so he could hear you. He worked you through your climax as your body thrashed, and when you finally collapsed against the desk in exhaustion, he stood to lean over you, kissing you deeply, the taste of you still on his tongue.

“Let me come on your ass,” he whispered.

You nodded shakily, too spent to speak. He helped you to stand, then bent you forward over the desk and pulled the waistband of your stockings back up. His cock prodded against your thigh, and he took a moment to press and rub it against your ass through the shimmersilk before he began to stroke himself in a firm, steady rhythm. His cock and hand nudged against you with every movement, and his other hand squeezed and slapped your ass roughly. A deep groan tore from him, and his breath grew loud and ragged as his speed increased.

You heard a sharp gasp, and then the hot spurt of his cum splattered across your ass and back. A shudder wracked your body, and you desperately wished you could see his face as he pumped his cock until he had nothing left to give. With a soft grunt, he fell forward, catching himself on the desk with one hand just before he would have landed on you.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he panted. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, covered in my cum.”

He trailed his fingertips through the mess on your back, and then flattened his palm and smeared it across your skin, drawing an appreciative hum from you. Rolling over onto your side, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close. He melted against you, tucking his face into your shoulder.

“This desk is hard as kriff,” he mumbled. “I’m beginning to see a flaw in my plan.”

You laughed quietly. “Sofa is sounding pretty appealing right now, is it?”

“Mm. Next time.”

“I can’t wait to see what excuse you fabricate to throw my staff off the scent when that happens.”

“If your staff are anything like mine, they’ve already figured it out.” He kissed your shoulder and moved down your chest to suck gently at your nipple.

You brushed your hand up his back and neck to cradle his head against you. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you were abusing the diplomatic seal to send me lingerie and overbearing demands for a hookup.”

“They’d either applaud my ingenuity or have me stripped of rank,” he chuckled. “I should get you cleaned up. As soon as my legs start working again.”

Later, after he helped you back into your gown, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss onto the top of your head. You leaned into his embrace, relaxing against his body with a tired yawn.

“That was a thorough debriefing, Commander,” you murmured. “I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity.”

“For the moment,” he replied. “But the case is still open. I might need you again soon. Very soon.”

“Mm,” you smiled. “I’m sure the Haneli embassy will be happy to cooperate in any way you deem necessary.”

“Trying to avoid arrest, my love?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential diplomatic information.”

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#commander fox #commander fox x reader #star wars #the clone wars #tcw fanfic #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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heyhihellosworld · 2 years ago

Text

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱

Mason Mount x reader

Word count: 3,1k

Summary: Toxic friend and hot boyfriend, maybe an opportunity for some revenge

Warnings: Angst, mentions of toxic friend and partner, smut!

Notes: So long since I updated so, sorry for that. This may contain a lot of wrongs because I haven't really proofread it. So the smut is now time and all the others are in the past, flashback ish. Hope it makes sense.

Was it wrong? Probably yeah it was. But it didn't feel wrong when his lips met yours or when he touched you, no it felt fucking right.

You knew she would freak out if she saw you right now, probably scream and make a scene of what a shitty friend you were but that only made it feel even better. Knowing you pissed her off and got her back for all she'd done to you filled you with satisfaction.

It wasn't all about him but he knew that, you knew it wasn't all about you either. This was a source of revenge with a hint of built up tension.

You moaned as his lips traveled down your collarbone and chest, messy and needy. It was all a hot mess but you loved it, your arms hanging around his shoulders, fingers tickling his neck and combing through his hair as his lips wandered over you.

You and your friends had rented an airbnb in Greece for the summer, planning a well needed rest in a relaxing environment for a couple of weeks. The five people in your friend group, two external friends and five of their partners created a quite large group but that was common on your annual summer vacations. As long as everyone was nice and had a good vibe you didn't care.

There was only one creating tension, your childhood friend but there was nothing new with that. Everybody in the group knew her and her behaviors. It was just how she was, how she behaved and what she thought was cute. A real pick-me was what she was and a huge asshole at that. She never considered other peoples feelings or thoughts and not once letting somebody elses needs go before hers. In her world she was the queen and if anybody went up against her chaos broke out.

This had been the story since you were both five but it wasn't until adult-life you had understood how toxic it was and how much she was manipulating and changing you. But even with the knowledge she was still in your life.

This summer she had asked her boyfriend to tag along. He was the hot topic in your group as she always seemed to pick guys similar to herself, assholes.

But this time it was different. She had been bragging about him for as long as you could think of but for the first time she wasn't all talk. He was a footballer, something she never shut up about because apparently that was really important for everyone to know. She chatted holes in your head about how hot he was and how good he was in bed, you knew way too much without even having met the guy.

Your expectations were down the ground when you met him for the first time, expecting him to be rude or whatever but he completely floored you. He wasn't anything like her, he was sweet and funny, caring and soft. He was also unbelievably good looking, your eyes sticking to him way too often. The only question you had was how in the world she had gotten a guy like that. Someone who wasn't only way out of her league look-wise but also someone who was way too good for her. He was cheeky and flirtatious for sure but it wasn't her usual guy and it sparked something.

He made you feel like you skin was on fire. Fingertips leaving a trail of heat as they wandered down your body. You were on his bed now, his kisses making your head tilt back as he nipped at the sensitive skin. You couldn't recall the last time you'd felt this hot, like you were burning up but in a very pleasant way.

When his fingers reached the hem of your underwear you could no longer control the soft whines that left your mouth. The timid looking guy who had been so shamefully sweet and gentle was completely gone as he chuckled at you laying there, needy and whiny. He held a smirk on his face that told you everything you needed to know.

His face hovered over yours as he teased your clit carefully, almost mocking your needy state as his fingers just barely touched you before drawing away. It was such a risky thing to do, in a house filled with all of your friends and maybe also her. Yet here you were, letting him touch you in such an intimate way with no remorse.

The first couple of days were fine, Mason came into the group perfectly and she was suddenly more pleasant to be around whenever he was there. You didn't know if she honestly liked him or if he was just too attractive to give up but something made her stick around so far, something she usually never did. But again, he was something different.

It was one week in when you could see the usual pattern begin with her. The avoiding, icing and searching for validation started but Mason didn't seem to care. He held a nice smile on his face and searched for more company with you and the others instead which nobody had a problem with, well except from her of course. She was the one who should take distance and not the other way around. So the more he was with you and the others the more annoying she got, starting shit against him and you all for every small thing possible.

"What?" she snarled in a monotone voice

You shrugged, not really doing anything to deserve the tone she was giving you from where she sat in the arm-chair with a grouchy look.

"You have something to tell me?" she scoffed at your nonchalant shrug, wanting more than that from you.

"No? What would that be?" you tiredly asked. She had been a real bitch the last couple of days, constantly nagging every single one of you, remarking and claiming something. You were still annoyed over how she acted last night towards Mason having had a go at him for sitting on the sofa with you and one of your other friends. The shaming was completely uncalled for and the poor guy had looked extremely uncomfortable as she cussed him out.

"Uh, oh I don't know" she sarcastically exclaimed, holding her hand in front of her mouth dramatically. "Maybe that you fancy Mason!"

You could't help the laughter that escaped your mouth at her words "I'm what?"

"You totally like him y/n, I don't get how you could do this to me" Shaking your head was the only thing you could do "I don't fancy anyone!"

"Then explain last night" she huffed stubbornly, folding her arms over her chest stubbornly. "What to explain? You were a complete bitch and I just defended the poor guy when you treated him like complete shit and it was completely uncalled for!"

"Oh stop it, I did not treat him like shit and I had every right to call him out"

A scoff left your mouth "It was not right, he didn't even do shit just sat down in a sofa"

She clicked her tongue in annoyance but letting it go at that unfolding her arms again as she looked at you "Sorry I just actually like this guy and the way you were behaving was just not okay" Steam was basically blowing from your ear as you swallowed thickly, telling yourself to let it go but fuck if you didn't wanna scream at her face.

Instead for shouting and slapping her you changed the subject "you actually like him?"

A shrug painted her expression "like and like, I mean he is extremely attractive and the sex is so so good"

Eyes rolling you left the room, having to unless she wanted a fist in her jaw. Of course she was only attracted to him.

His long sleek fingers picked up their pace, two sliding in and out of you whilst his thumb stroke your clit in small precise circles. You were close, so so terribly close, just lingering on the edge and you envied her for getting this for the last month. Suddenly it made sense as to why she had stuck around him. He was just that good, but of course he was much more than sex.

A cry tickled your tongue, the aware part of your being begging him to stop you from screaming out loud from the brewing orgasm that was just just there.

"Fuck Mason"

He still held that stupid smug smirk all over his face and he looked so proud and cocky. "Hmm, does that feel good?" he hummed, tilting his head mockingly as you nodded frantically, silently asking him not to stop.

"This turns you on, dosen't it. Knowing that we could so easily be heard and caught huh? You love it" No coherent words left your mouth as he pushed you over the edge. It was euphoric, eyes squeezed closed, teeth biting down on his shoulder to keep quite.

He grinned at you as he helped you ride out your orgasm, his hand rubbing your hip gently as you collapsed in his sheets.

"You are so much better than I thought" you sighed out with a content smile on you face as he kissed your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" you asked from your seat on the couch, tilting your head up to look at her as she gathered her stuff from the hall-bench. "Uh, I'm going out" she shrugged, dressing in her jacket and fixing up her hair.

"Uhh, okay? What about our plans then?" you questioned feeling astonished by her unbothered state. She pulled a face "You'll be fine without me" she waved you off "What about Mason, you gonna leave him here?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

A scoff left your mouth before you could stop it "Well maybe it is a bit rude, don't you think? You invite him on a holiday with your friends he has never met before and then you leave him?" Her infamous eye-roll played in front of your eyes, her hand grasping her phone "He will survive, don't need to be so dramatic"

You shook your head as she walked out the door, slamming it behind her like a teenage kid. "Fucking stupid" you cursed out after her

"It's for the better"

You tilted your head back over the back of the couch, smiling as you saw Mason in the opening to the kitchen

"Hm?"

"I appreciate you standing up to her but it's for the better she goes huh?" Your eyebrows raised at him in amusement "Things not going too great?"

The sigh he let out told you enough, chuckling you patted the couch, signaling for him to come closer.

He did so without hesitation, a smile displaying on his face as he plumped down dramatically. "So, tell me. How did you find someone like her"

He shrugged "Party, she got onto me, I was horny, we fucked and then it was repeated. One night she asked me to go with you guys and I didn't have anything else planned so I thought why not"

"Well, I guess. Although I would say you're stupid for going with her without knowing her"

"Probably your right, I mean this trip is fantastic and there are all nice people but phew she is...a lot"

You smiled, leaning back into the couch and tucking your legs underneath you "tell me about it"

He had you on your back, his dick filing you and making you feel fuzzy. His eyes glazed over as he leaned over you, prompting you to wrap your arms around his shoulders as he never let up his pace.

His hot breath fanned your face, small sounds leaving his lips as he started to get close.

"Fuck" you whined as his thumb traveled down your body and started to rub your sensitive clit. It was too much and too little at the same time, your orgasm crawling closer and closer before it snapped.

You were happy, content as you sat in the restaurant chair looking out on the cozy street. It was your fifteenth day here and things felt good, the group was great and it was a lot of fun and relaxing, just what you needed for the summer.

Mason really had came into the group great, everybody liking him and asking him to tag along since she didn't exactly try with him anymore.

It was light chatter, laughs and drinks in the afternoon lightning, it all made you feel like a teenager again. Summer with friends when there were no big problems, it was all light and easy.

The food was nice and the weather pleasant. You were sat next to Mason and one of your other friends. She was sitting opposite Mason, chatting with your friend who sat next to her.

"How was your food?"

You smiled at him, pushing the plate towards him, prompting him to taste as you hadn't missed the eager look he had given your plate all evening.

He chuckled, dropping his head as he realized he had been caught "Come on, it's fine, taste" you giggled, smiling as he took a piece of the pasta you had ordered. "Fuck that is as good as it looks" he hummed in appreciation taking another spoonful of your food

"Your's isn't good?" you chuckled, raising your eyebrows "No no it is" he confirmed, smiling sheepishly.

Mason was easy to be with, easy to talk to and always funny to be around. He had spent a lot of time with you, talking about his family, his football and niece. Never a boring moment.

"Are you done flirting so we can go?" Her dry tone made everyone look up from what they were doing, sensing a storm coming to ruin the otherwise great evening.

You sighed, clicking your tongue in annoyance as she glared at you, her arms folded over her chest. "What" you huffed out, trying to not trigger her further.

"What do you mean what, you have been flirting with him all night. He came here with me, not you so I don't understand what you are doing"

A dry chuckle escaped your lips, your body lightning up with annoyance and underlying anger. "Okay, well what if I was flirting with him, what difference would it make?" "You know he came here as my guest, he is with me"

"Yeah I know that but I didn't feel like it was a big deal since you've pretended that he didn't exist this past week"

"Oh shut up I have not you're just so fucking jealous, aren't you? Can't even let me have him" You shook your head "Let you have him, do you even hear yourself? You treated him like fucking shit and I can't even talk to him?"

"Stop acting like you're better than me all the fucking time, you're not!"

You pursed your lips, referring from screaming and making a scene in the restaurant. After this trip you would cut her off for good. At least that's what you wanted but it was also what you'd wanted to do for the past five years but somehow, somehow she always managed to claw you back to her possession.

Mason looked pretty uncomfortable as he sat looking down at the table, not knowing what to say or do in the whole ordeal.

"All I'm doing is talking to him and making him feel okay in the group, that's all and that's more than what I can say about you"

"Stop the bullshit y/n, you have heart-eyes for him, practically begging him to sleep with you"

You scoffed shaking your head feeling incredolous, not knowing what to do.

"You know what, fuck you" you spat, pushing yourself up from the chair and walking off.

You walked back to the villa, still fuming with anger and rage quickly discarding your shoes and taking a moment to just scream, let all frustrations out. You changed to your pj's before walking out to the terrace to cool down.

It wasn't even fifteen minutes until you heard someone enter the villa, knowing who it was before he even found you outside.

"Hey, you ok?" Mason smiled sweetly, popping his head out through the door

You smiled softly at him "Yeah yeah, all fine"

He nodded, walking to you on the deck and sat down opposite to you "She is always like that with you huh?"

"Well always and always, not when she wants something from me" you spoke in an annoyed tone, pulling a face as he chuckled at you

"Why are you friends with her then?"

You laughed, dropping your head back "I am not really but it's just... complicated"

Mason nodded, he could understand it with being childhood friends and all so he didn't bug more about it.

"Well if it makes you feel better I don't mind you flirting with me"

You laughed out loud, leaning back on your hands on the tree deck. "I don't think I'm flirting that hard"

"Nah not that hard but i'm just saying I wouldn't mind it"

"You want me to flirt with you some more? Tell you how pretty you are and how much I want you?" you joked, grinning at him as he pursed his lips, nodding "wouldn't mind it"

You laughed again, tilting your head at him as silence settled in the warmth of Greece.

There was tension in the air, hovering over you both as you sat there, simply looking at each other before Mason took the first step. "If i'm completely out of line here and misjudged the situation you're allowed to slap me" he smiled as he came forward, slowly meeting his lips with yours as you giggled at him, welcoming his lips greedily.

"I mean I know this was about revenge, but fuck me" he sighed stretching his body out on his bed, tilting his head back to look at you who sat against the headboard, you knee tucked up into your chest and a content smile on your face.

"It wasn't all about revenge" you smiled, feeling a warm feeling in your chest as he rested his head against your legs. "No?"

"No" you concluded, you weren't able to restrain yourself from running your fingers through his hair. His smile was dazzling, showing his perfect teeth and glimmering eyes. Convincing you that it truly wasn't all about revenge.

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #footballer imagine #england nt #football imagine #mason mount angst #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mm19 #chelsea

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nanaminokanojo · 9 months ago

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THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 105)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

A/N: Shameless plug, but yeah, "Bad News" soft release. Check it out!

<<prev part 105 next>>

A/N: Hello, everyone! I am sooooo sorry for going missing beyond what I said. I was on vacation, a badly needed one. But hey, thank you all for staying and reading my other works. I hope you are all having a great day. I hope to update quicker these coming days.

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun @whats-humanity-lol @letthewindlead @whore-of-many-hot-men @localgaytrainwreck @pikibee @bloombb @mr-underhills-things @lysaray @chocoyanchan @poemzcheng @bookswillfindyouaway @dreamxiing @koutaroo @taelattecookie @kazuhasmaid @weebbuscuit @moonmalice @taengkatsu @reagan707 @lysaray @to0ru @shirabane @yell0wdreams @r0ckst4rjk @megtheebimbo @tmvll9

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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channieskies · 3 months ago

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐗: 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Pairing: Prince Hyunjin x Reader (AFAB)

Genre: Historical|Au, Fantasy|Au, Strangers to Lovers, Royalty|Au, Angst, Smut (Eventual), NSFW tags are below.

Synopsis: The kingdom of Volantis is in disarray; the monarch rules with an iron fist. The times of hope, harmony, and kindness were buried with the queen who passed many years ago. The people are praying for a savior, but who will be their light at the end of this dark tunnel?

Authors Note: Please reblog or leave a comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. As per usual, this hasn't been proofread. I'm posting the remaining written chapters, before I officially put this story on hiatus. I'm sorry for taking so long to update, but I hope this helps at least a little.

Word Count: [Reading Time: 11 Mins]

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.

Looking for another chapter? Click here: 🇸‌🇹‌🇴‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of death and the afterlife, mentions of child abuse (verbal and physical) Reader discretion is advised.

Worry had sequestered everyone's emotions in the room. They had managed to get you into the keep and put you in one of the many unused bedrooms. Minho stood at the foot of your bed, watching you closely and carefully, watching for any signs of distress.. Venia was at your side, thankful for the minute amount of time she’d studied under the nurses in the infirmary just after the prince was born. Hyunjin was once again at the door, looking on at the happenings of the room, wanting to participate, but not being dauntless enough to do anything about it. He was mentally beating himself up for it, but at the same time there was this tiny voice in his head echoing “You’re worthless.” Curiously enough, it sounded just like his father. It was something he would say when something was completed to his liking or, just because he felt like saying it. Hyunjin shuttered at the thoughts of him and his father's tumultuous past.

As a child he would have given anything to be accepted by that man. Even at times going above and beyond just wanting to receive a “Good job son”. He hoped he’d gotten past all of that. Hoped that the years of exile proved that he was resilient and someone worth supporting. Someone worth their father’s love and support. But he couldn’t be that unless he took the initiative. Any king that sat by instead of taking action, surely didn’t deserve to wear the crown on his head. He straightened up acclimating himself to the new role he was trying to take on. He made his way to stand next to Venia, “What do you need me to do?” She paused, wringing out the rag she was using to cool your forehead.

She turned to Minho whose face was concentrated, staring right at you as if his glare would wake you from your slumber. “Minho dear?” He reluctantly tore his eyes from you, they softened as he looked at Venia. “There is nothing for either of you to do here, since this has become a waiting game.” She wiped her hands on her skirt, “Could you teach the prince some hand to hand combat or maybe some of your brilliant swordsmanship?” He looked like he wanted to say something, even though she knew he wouldn't. It took him a few beats before he nodded in agreement. “Do not take it easy on him. This is life or death and we would prefer the former.” He nodded again before looking at Hyunjin and walking away. “That means ‘Come with me.’ So, hurry.” Hyunjin scrambled. He wondered how she had figured Minho out so quickly? But then again, it was Venia he was talking about. She was capable of anything. He jogged until he caught up to Minho, who had already found the armory and was arming himself with some of the finest steel the place had to offer.

“So.. how long have you been a swordsman?” Hyunjin asked, hoping he could pick up on an answer just like you or Venia could, but to no avail. The young man didn’t even bother sparing him a glance. “Oh? That long?” He laughed awkwardly. He so badly wanted to make a friend, it was something he’d never done before. Well- at least without the other person being forced into the situation. “Look, I know you probably would rather be in there looking after your friend, instead of out here with me. But, you heard Venia, it’s better to occupy ourselves with something so we can pass the time until she wakes up. So, could we please.. At least for this moment, pretend to be friends?” Minho halted his movements as he listened to the prince's words. There was that sense of sadness and longing he’d seen in him all those years ago when the boy waved from the balcony with the king by his side.

That's how Minho knew the prince’s face. He and his mother traveled to Volantis during the war, mostly for food and supplies or whatever they could afford, since their town had nothing else to offer. During one of their visits they were swept into a crowd that were in the bailey of the castle to bear witness to whatever decree the King gave. That was when Minho saw the prince, trying to put on a big smile, despite the very visible bruise on his cheek. It must have been best for Hyunjin to be exiled to this place, who knew how bad the abuse might've gotten if he was left in the castle walls with his father. Minho eyed the young man, eventually sighing in defeat. He nodded, agreeing to be fast friends with the prince, despite his original distrust of the boy. This would certainly be interesting.

“Am I- am I dead?” Panic raced through you as the realization of her words settled into you. This was the afterlife, the place between places that only those of a similar lineage got the chance to see. Volantians had something different they believed in, you’d read about their beliefs, but they didn’t coincide with yours. Truthfully, descendants of first men were taught to hide who or what they were, in order to fit into the mold that Volantians wanted. Any signs of being different could mean destruction. You hadn’t witnessed that firsthand, but the horror stories your family told you were enough to give you pause when it came to revealing your disposition. There was a lot of lore surrounding the first men and their descendants. Many thought the first men were monsters that the elder gods cast here to correct the wrongs of man. But that wasn’t the truth, they had been in these lands long before man was even created. They evolved just as man did, becoming something entirely different than what they started off as. But a lot of the first men kept their original states as their sigil.

Your father’s family was from the southern islands. The Neunigan Islands; rich lands bathed in sunlight that seemed to sparkle along the sandy shorelines. They produced the most beautiful jewels and had the most beautiful aquatic life you’ve ever seen. You only visited once, after your great-great-grandfather had passed. Your father’s family seemed to live longer than other people; some only dying well into their hundreds. They were known to be strong in both beliefs and physical strength. They were thought to be descendants of Dragonnes; lion and dragon hybrid. Your mother’s family on the other hand were from the east. The land your family lived on had been in your family for eons, before the creation of man, before civilizations were created. The people of the lands of Orev (Known as the Onyx Trail) are said to be descendants of the fae that once occupied the valley of the jade pass. Thought to be the reincarnation of fae spirits that didn’t abide by fae rules. Your family settled on this land after leaving the Jade pass due to being outcasted. Your healing came from them, your skin would scale much like that of a de-feathered bird. Your parents were very secretive about whatever abilities your family had, they believed it was for your protection from those far too ignorant to see past them.

“No, you are very much alive. You are just in a deep sleep, wounded by another descendant of the first men. Your body just needs time to fully heal before you can walk in the land of the living once again.” Limbo, that's what this place was like; a wait station for souls. But that didn’t explain why the queen was here to greet you. She died the year you were born and that was over twenty years ago. Her soul should have moved from this place long ago.

“I don’t mean any harm by saying this your hig-'' You stopped mid-sentence remembering the fact that she wanted you to call her by her first name. “I mean, Aeri. But… why are you here?” She sighed, eyes drifting off to the moon and sun that occupied the sky together.

“I have souls to guide.” She smiled, “I made a deal when I died with the elders of this realm. I wanted to be able to see my son grow up, to be here when he took his last breath. To be the one to guide him to his afterlife.” She focused her attention on you. “I only saw his little face for a moment before I died. I couldn’t let his life go by without me witnessing it. Even if it was filled with grief and so many hard times, I still wanted to watch him grow. Though I feel as if my being in this world is part of the reason my Hyunjin hasn’t had a peaceful life, knowing that you will be by his side, along with Venia, gives me hope that he will one day know the beauty of love and the happiness it can bring,” She grabbed your hands. “Which is part of the reason I needed you to be here. Hyunjin is in danger.”

Your eyes widened. “You mean the counsel and his father? My father-” She shook her head.

“No. There is a far bigger threat than his father or that counsel. One that wishes for all of Volantis to fall. His father is not like us, he is a Volantian, a human.” She pulled you to a seat in the garden that overlooked a pond. “The war between the first men and the humans lasted for a century, I’m sure you know that. It wasn’t until the nine kings of the first men came to an agreement that in order to save us all, they needed to let the humans win. Many had fallen on both sides, but that was only because the tenth King sided with the humans and gave them ways to defeat the first men. That betrayal was how Volantis was built.” You knew parts of the story. The books made it seem as if the humans peacefully acquired the land, trading with the less intelligent first men to get their land. You knew the story didn’t add up, but you tried not to make those types of waves as a child. “There were Kings whose people turned their backs on them entirely, moving to the deepest parts of the woods, going into hiding. Those bandits you ran across, are first men, most of which are full blooded first men.” That was impossible. Even your bloodline had both human and first men blood in it and yours was still one of the purer ones.

“They are tired of hiding in the shadows and are planning to make a move to dismantle all of Volantis. By freeing the first men that are in hiding and killing any human that refuses to bow at their feet.” She rested her hands in her lap. “The king will die.” You could tell she still felt for her husband. “His family will be slaughtered, including my Hyunjin, if they aren’t stopped. Volantis as you know it, will cease to exist.” She turned to you, her face calm yet resolute. “Hyunjin doesn’t know what abilities he has, I doubt he even knows about our family and their lineage. He’s been dreaming, but he has no understanding of what his dreams mean. In the keep, where your physical body is right now, there is a library beyond the library. I had it built to house my family's secrets, secrets that I one day hoped to tell my first born. Look for the ever blooming tan hua, your energy will open the door when you are near it. I had it built with in mind Ermias, I knew my fate from a very early age, that I would die before my thirtieth birthday, I just didn’t expect it would be in labor.”

You could tell it saddened her that she’d missed out on her son's life and that she felt guilty that he had to face the hardships that he did. “Your father was one of the few people I trusted enough to know all of my secrets. So his blood energy can open the door. In the hidden room you will find books on both you and Hyunjin’s family history. Just look for your family crest on them. Hyunjin more than likely only knows his fathers, so tell him to look for the inmyeonjo, it’s a human faced bird, my family's crest.” She abruptly looked to the sky, the sound of thunder echoing through the realm. “It’s time for you to go.” She stood and pulled you up.

“Bu-but we just started talking. When will this happen? How do I ensure the safety of the prince? Will my family be okay?” You had so many questions, but had unfortunately run out of time. She smiled at you, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks.

“You remind me so much of my dear friend.” She chuckled fondly, “You have his eyes.” She ran her thumbs over your cheeks, “Please take care of yourself. The fates aligned when they decided that you’d accompany my boy home. I know his heart and mind will be safe with you.” She wrapped her arms around you in a hug surprising you. “Tell your parents and Venia that I miss them and please tell my prince that I love him, always have and always will.” You nodded, confused as to why things were ending so abruptly. Just like you entered this realm through darkness, you left it the same way. You were snatched from the warmth of the embrace of the queen and into a cold empty void. You could hear things, a faint voice in the distance. But it didn’t have a direction, the sound surrounded you, confusing you. How were you to get out of this place if it was pitch black? There was no light in sight, you were surrounded by darkness.

“Your father would not be happy to know that you are hurt. I’m sure if you hadn't taken care of those bandits, he would hunt them down as soon as he found out.” You could feel the cool rag being placed on your forehead, while a warm hand held your own. “If you don’t wake up soon, I fear I will have to send word of your injury.” Why could you hear her so clearly? How was it that you could feel the warmth of her hand, the coolness of the rag on your forehead, but you couldn’t get out of the darkness. You wanted to shout, scream that you were very much alive and awake, despite your eyes being closed. “I hope he can forgive me for not being there to protect you.”

She sighed. You chanted wake up over and over again in your head. Each time getting progressively louder, until you blocked out Venia’s words completely. Your voice echoed off the void of your mind, the resounding vibrations shaking your mind palace like an earthquake. You felt like you were going to die there, stuck in your own mind. You crouched down, hugging your knees, afraid that all of this shaking could be your demise. “Please, wake up. We need your help… desperately..” You felt Venia’s warm tears fall on your arm. Each tear put a crack in the dark void of your mind, fracturing it in what you hoped would be a good way. Venia was afraid, not only for the well being of the child she raised, but for the child of her friend. Nothing was stronger than a mothers love.

Dark shards fell from the sky, revealing the warm glow of what felt like the sun. You tightly shut your eyes, praying that this would all be over soon, that you could be amongst the living one again. You didn’t want to die without seeing the safe return of the rightful heir to the throne. You didn’t want to be another child of your parents that went on to the afterlife before them. You didn’t want to die at all. You clenched your fists tightly, putting your all into wishes of leaving this awful void. The sound of shattering glass got louder and louder, the fragments falling beside you, but never on you. The sound built until it ceased altogether.

It was silent. The sound of glass was gone. Venia’s voice that was muffled in the background was quiet. You peeked and eyes opened, almost afraid of what you would find. The light was blinding and you quickly shut your eyes again. But curiosity was getting the best of you. Where are you now? You’d traversed so many places since you passed you, you were definitely curious to see just where you were now. With determination, you opened your eyes wide, letting the bright light blind you temporarily before you adjusted to it. You were met with the billowing canopy of a four post bed, the yellowing brick of someone's castle walls, and Minho asleep at the foot of your bed, his brows knit together even in his sleep. You were alive and awake.

He was never one to sleep past sunrise, and the sun was pretty high in the sky. He must have been worried and tired if he was still asleep. You nudged him with your foot and watched him stir. He rubbed his eyes before he focused on you and widened. You could see the relief wash over him before he adjusted his face back to its normal stoic baseline. “What are you still sleeping for? Don’t we have an adventure to go on?” He smiled at your words and nodded. You had no more time to waste, there was a prince you needed to deliver to the Kingdom of Volantis.

A.N: Please reblog or leave a comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

[Rewrites, Reposts, and Translations are Prohibited]

#stray kids #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyujin imagines #neverendingdreams #hallofskz #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x read #prince hyunjin #chaptered fic #kpop fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids royal au #hyunjin royal au #skz drabbles #skz au #skz x female reader

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hellohannie · 1 year ago

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Return of the Enchantress (m) | ljh

“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚.”

a year ago, jihoon had come across a forest nymph who had inadvertently stolen his heart. after a passionate night together, they agreed to meet again exactly a year later. here jihoon was now, exactly a year, down to the second, later. will you come to him? will he finally be able to take you home? part of the enchantress of the forest series. read part one here!

♡ PLAYERS - lee jihoon x reader

♡ WORD COUNT - 6.3K

♡ TAGS - fantasy au, faerie!reader, fluff, minor angst, smut (MDNI): fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it friends)

♡ NOTES - hi everyone! thank you so much for waiting patiently for me. things have been hectic for me and i haven't had the time to really sit and write. i also found myself just hating everything i wrote so i didn't want to upload anything

unfortunately, i don't see my update schedule being any quicker or more consistent in the near future, so i apologize for that. still, thank you to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs, it lets me know that there are people who enjoy my content, and it motivates me to write more!

THERE WILL BE A PART 3 and i promise it'll be updated sooner. i'm actually already a third of the way done with it right now. i just figured it would be better to split this part into two, so that's why there's another part. so please look forward to some conflicts and jihoon in faerieland? *wink wink*

i hope you all enjoy, and please be sure to interact! i love the feedback!

Jihoon’s breaths were loud and heavy as he sprinted through the forest, leaves and branches crunching under his footsteps. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. 5:58am. He pushed himself to run faster. He had two more minutes before the sun broke the horizon. Two more minutes until it was exactly a year since he last saw you. He thought about this moment every day for the past year and by God, did he hope you’d be waiting for him like he imagined in his dreams.

The campsite loomed into view as Jihoon came to a stop and took in his surroundings. The tent was gone, but the ring of bricks surrounding the bonfire was still there, only now covered in moss from lack of use. Jihoon’s chest felt tight as he remembered the way you were perched in front of it that fateful night, the first time he saw you.

Jihoon then walked up to the large oak tree you disappeared behind that next morning, staring in hopes that you’d materialize in front of it. He felt a buzz on his wrist. It was his watch telling him a new hour had started. It was six. The sky around him was a blend of pinks and blues and oranges as the sun arose, waking up the world.

Suddenly, Jihoon felt an itch on his pinky. “No, no no no.” He whispered, holding his left hand up to his face. It was his flower ring. The once perfectly bloomed dandelion was now dried and scratching his skin. The enchantment was gone.

Jihoon slid to his knees as he began to imagine the worst. It had been exactly a year since you left. You promised to meet him here, but you were nowhere to be found. Not only that, the enchantment on his ring was gone. That could only mean one thing. You must’ve lost your magic. The Queen must’ve denied your request to live on Earth and punished you.

Jihoon began to cry, wracked with guilt at the thought that it was his fault that you were met with such a fate. “Y/N,” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry-”

“Jihoon?”

The blond snapped his head up, brushing tears out of his eyes to clear his sight. There you stood, silhouetted by the backlight of the sun, like a vision from the dreams that plagued his every second. Jihoon shook his head as if clearing cobwebs from his mind, making sure that what he was seeing was reality and not a delusion.

“Jihoon Darling,” you took a step forward, concerned. “You are crying.”

Jihoon stayed frozen on the forest floor, staring at you. He was spellbound, reminded again of how beautiful you truly were. Like the first time he saw you, you were wearing a white dress that flowed like water around your calves as it caught the wind. However, the dress was far more intricate this time, with the sleeves coming to capped hems just below your elbow, causing the fabric to bubble around your arm like a balloon. The neckline was trimmed with eyelet lace, as was the skirt hem. The fabric was cinched in at your waist, held tight with a glimmering fabric tied into a bow.

Your hair had been loose and curled in ringlets a year ago, but now, it was weaved into a long, thick braid hanging over your shoulder. Millions of little flowers adorned the silky strands from the crown of your head to the very tip of the braid.

Jihoon’s eyes flitted across your face as you moved closer, taking in the details that had faded in his memory through the year. He re-memorized everything, from the slant of your eyes to the arch of your brows, the high bridge of your nose, the glimmer in your eyes as you looked at him so lovingly. The movement of your plush lips caught his attention first before your tinkling voice registered in his ears.

“Jihoon,” you giggled as he flinched, snapping himself out of your reverie. By now, you had crouched in front of him, hands placed gently at his elbows. “Come, let’s get you to your feet.”

As soon as you were both standing, Jihoon lunged to wrap his arms around your waist and lift you into a tight embrace. He felt all the tension leave his body as he heard your laughter in his ears and felt your arms glide around his neck. You were here. Finally.

“I missed you,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, breathing in the familiar petrichor scent that bled from your skin. “I missed you Faerie-”

“Ah,” you interrupted. “That, I am no longer.” You pulled back with a serene expression as Jihoon set you on your feet.

“What?”

“I am no longer a Faerie.”

That was when Jihoon realized that while there were so many parts of you that remained unchanged from the last time he saw you, there were also parts that were different. Your pointed ears were now rounded at the tips, and while you felt warm in his grasp, you did not feel nearly as fragile as before. Perhaps the biggest difference of all, you did not have the glow around your body that had first caught Jihoon’s attention all those days ago. Your skin didn’t shimmer as if you were otherworldly. Nothing about you screamed otherworldly. You look like him. You looked…

“Human,” Jihoon gasped. “You’re human? Meeting with the Queen, it worked?”

You nodded, a hand hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheek. “Are you disappointed? That I am ordinary.”

“No,” he responded fiercely, pulling you in closer by your waist. “You are not ordinary and you could never disappoint me. If you’re human, that means you left your world for me. A woman who is so brave as to leave behind all she’s ever known and loved for me is…is anything but ordinary.” He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “I was worried this day would never come, that I would never get to hold you, kiss you, tell you that I love you.”

“You do not have to worry any longer, sweet Jihoon, I’m yours. Eternally.”

Jihoon is unsure who leaned in first, all he is aware of is the feeling of your pillowy lips against his own, and the feeling of finally being at home. His hands trailed up your sides up to your jaw, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. You parted your lips in a soft sigh, and Jihoon took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. With a quiet moan, you pushed your body closer to his, your kisses picking up speed.

“Jihoon,” you murmured, but he quickly silenced you with another kiss.

“Missed you so much, Y/N,” he groaned, lips brushing against yours with every word. “Missed you so much, don’t wanna let go, wish we could just teleport home.”

You slid your fingers into his hair, using the grip to tug him back. “Jihoon,” you said, a bit more sternly, with a sheepish grin. His eyes slid open lazily. “I’m afraid we have company.” Your eyes glanced to your right. His followed and widened as he took in the forest animals that encircled the two of you. All around him, perched in the grass were golden deer and silver bunnies, russet foxes and red squirrels. There were hummingbirds and butterflies littering the trees, while fireflies and honey bees buzzed around in the air.

You slipped out from his arms and glided over to a shimmering deer, gently petting its head. “There are my friends,” you turned to give Jihoon a blinding smile. “They kept me company as I looked after my part of the forest, long before I met you.”

Jihoon stared in awe as the animals moved to be near you, reveling in your laughter as you let the wildlife jump into your lap or sit on your shoulders. However, despite your laughter, Jihoon thought he could hear crying and whining. You must’ve heard the same because you said, “They are confused why I can no longer understand them and why they can no longer understand me.”

That’s right, Jihoon thought, when she was a faerie, she could communicate with them, but now that she’s given up her powers…

“Do you mind if I sing to them one last time before we go? They used to fall asleep to the sound of my voice, and I do not want them to see me leave. I would rather their last memory of me be something blissful.”

Jihoon nodded, taking a seat in the grass. Goosebumps arose on his skin as you began to sing, your voice both captivating and soothing. He watched as the animals around you began to lay down, eyes falling closed as your song sent them into dreamland. Jihoon, too, closed his eyes, not because he was falling asleep, but to give you even a semblance of privacy. Your song was not only a goodbye to your friends, but a goodbye to the only life you’d ever known, a life Jihoon was never a part of. It didn’t feel right to intrude on this last moment of yours.

By the time the two of you made your trek back to the houses the boys stayed at last time, the sun was already high in the sky. You did all of the talking, rambling on about the land of Faerie, and what you’d been doing this past year.

“I’ll admit,” you said, swinging yours and Jihoon’s arms as you walked, “The Queen was rather shocked when I made my request. I’d never expressed discontent with my position as a forest nymph before, so asking to have my powers stripped was unexpected. However, when I told her it was because I had fallen in love…” You looked up at him with an affectionate smile. “Well, she said it was the first time she was delighted to strip a Faerie of their powers.”

Jihoon sighed in relief. “I’m not going to lie, I was worried she might not have taken it so well.” He lifted your interlocked hands up and wiggled his pinky, the dried flower ring still wrapped around it. “When this happened, I was afraid you’d been punished.”

“Ah,” you soothed, “That must’ve been because my powers could no longer uphold the enchantment. There’s no need to worry, see?” You hopped in front and turned to face him, arms spread wide. “I’m just fine and here with you. We don’t need enchanted rings anymore. I can make you a new one every morning.”

Jihoon could feel his heart swell with adoration, your optimism endearing and contagious. Just as he stepped forward to swing you into his arms again, a soccer ball came rolling on the ground, bumping against your bare feet.

You made a questioning sound, bending to pick up the ball. “What is this?” You held it up to your face, brows furrowed in scrutiny.

“I’m so sor-woah,” a boy with brown and blond streaked hair jogged towards you, eyes wide, arms frozen from where they had been reaching to take the ball from you. “Who are you?”

You tilted your chin up slightly, face blank as you held yourself with an air of regality, similar to when you first encountered Jihoon. “I am Y/N, a forest n- I am Y/N. You are?”

The boy, still awe-struck, responded, “I’m wondering where you’ve been all my life.”

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon snapped from his spot slightly behind you. He took the ball gently from your fingers before chucking it at his friend’s shoulder. This shocked Soonyoung out of his trace and he glared at Jihoon while clutching his arm.

“Ow!”

“Soonyoung?” you whispered, unminding of the squabble happening next to you. “Soonyoung!” You explained louder, this time catching the boys’ attention. “You’re Jihoon’s best friend!”

Jihoon flushed bright red and Soonyoung began to coo, “Awhhh Jiiiii~ You’ve been telling strangers I’m your best friendddd~ Wait!” Soonyoung’s head snapped towards you. “Oh my God you’re the girl from the forest! The nymph!” He snatched up your hand and gave you a vigorous handshake. “Does this mean you’re coming home with us? Jihoon refused to tell us anything about you, wanted to keep you a secret.”

Your eyes darted between the hyper boy in front of you and the stoic one to the right, the latter rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, this is her, now let go,” Jihoon jerked Soonyoung back with a grip on his shoulder.

You laughed, a bit endeared by the energy vibrating in Soonyoung. He reminded you of the little pixies from home that zipped around from place to place in the blink of an eye. “It is nice to meet you Soonyoung. I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be joining you on your journey home.”

He shook his head frantically, “Of course not! C’mon,” he grabbed your elbow, albeit gently, “Everyone else has been dying to meet you!”

Soonyoung directed you towards the smattering of houses, Jihoon following closely behind. As the three of you approached, you could hear a cacophony of voices and laughter. Soonyoung brought you to an open space covered by a canopy, where eleven other boys were bent over something. The smell of food and smoke engulfed you as the boy holding your arm yelled, “Guys she’s here!”

In unison, all the heads snapped towards you. You took a step back into Jihoon’s chest, his hands coming to rest reassuringly on your shoulders. It was silent for just a moment before all hell broke loose.

“Oh my God!”

“You made it!”

“Oh she’s so precious!”

“I told you she’d come back!”

“Ugh fine you were right, here’s the $20 bucks.”

“Wait,” Jihoon moved you to the side and stepped towards two of the boys. “You bet on us?”

As the boys struggled to defend themselves, a familiar blond with long hair stepped towards you, a kind smile on his face. You recognized him from a year ago. He was at the tent with his partner the night before you met Jihoon. The one you thought might have Faerie blood running through his veins.

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Jeonghan. This is Joshua,” he gestured to the man standing beside him, “We were at the forest last year too.”

“I remember,” you ducked your head, wishing your hair was loose so it would hide your flushed cheeks. You remembered coming across their intimate moment, trying not to intrude, but unable to block out the noise due to your enhanced senses. Although, even now, without your powers, it was obvious these men were fated mates. They were truly in love.

Jeonghan and Joshua held back their laughter, not wanting to embarrass you any further.

Joshua leaned down a bit, lowering his voice. “I hope you don’t mind that we sent Jihoon to your forest the next day. He was feeling a bit stressed, and we hoped a night away would bring him some peace.”

You flushed even more at this, your collarbones starting to turn red. “It’s alright. I’m…thankful. Actually,” you picked your head up, looking them both in the eyes before clasping your hands in front of you and dipping into a slight curtsey, “I’m indebted to you both, for bringing my soulmate to me. I’m not sure we would ever have met if not for you.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, bringing you back to standing with a hold on your upper arms. “There is no need for that. You are one of us now Y/N, you’re family. Family does not hold debts.” Joshua nodded, giving you a soft pet on the back of your head.

Your chest felt warm. Family. You did not have a family in Faerieland. Yes you had friends of all different species, but no one that called you family. “I never had anyone to call family at home.”

The boys shared a pitying glance before bringing you into an embrace. “Well then,” said Joshua, “We are honored to be the first to call you sister.”

You sniffled, and it was loud enough to catch Jihoon’s attention. “She’s been here all of five minutes and the evil twins are already making her cry,” he grumbled, pulling you into his side. “C’mon let’s go inside before the rest of them harass you even more.”

You and Jihoon walked into the warm dining hall together, his brothers’ (and now your brothers’) laughter echoing behind you.

“Lunch is served!” the tallest boy, who you now know as Mingyu, announced as he took the lids off the twenty something dishes lining the lengthy table. You were sitting in the middle of one of the benches, as per Jihoon’s insistence, something about it being easy to reach all the food. Jeonghan, who was sitting on the other side of you, nudged your waist with his elbow. You moved your gaze from the food to Jeonghan who motioned with his chin to the table. “Ladies first.”

It was only then that you noticed no one was filling their plates. Rather, they were all looking at you expectantly, but excitedly, especially Mingyu. You felt shy under their gazes. “I’m…I’m not familiar with human food,” you glanced at Jihoon before turning towards Mingyu. “Would you be able to describe your dishes to me?”

Mingyu was bouncing on his feet. “Of course! No one has ever asked me before! So this…” As Mingyu began to explain each dish to you, you felt your mouth start to water more and more. That is until he got to the center dish. “And this is the main course for today, galbi. It’s grilled beef short ribs-”

You shrieked in horror, hands covering your mouth as you shot to your feet. Everyone, including Jihoon, stared at you in concern. “Faerie, what’s wrong?”

“You all eat cows?” You were appalled, and even felt a bit sick. In Faerieland, cows were sacred. They provided the people of your land with milk which allowed you to create butter, cheese and other products, like in the human world. In addition however, cow’s milk in Faerieland had healing properties, and could be used in potions or with pixie dust to create potent magic. Cows were cared for, they were your friends. You couldn’t imagine taking their life and eating them.

“I’m, I’m sorry, I-” you scrambled over the bench, giving them all a quick bow in apology. “I must step away.” You ran out the door.

The rest of the boys, in a stupor, turned to Jihoon for an explanation. The latter groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “I didn’t even realize, she probably doesn’t eat meat.” He quickly explained how the forest animals were your friends, so the same must be for all animals in Faerieland. “It’s my fault. I should’ve known better than to think the customs in our world would be the same as the ones in her world.”

“It’s ok Jihoon,” Seungcheol soothed. “You didn’t know. She’s not going to hold that against you. Now you know that there’s going to be a lot of things she needs to learn, but you won't be alone, we’ll all help, right?” He looked around the table. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

“Here Hyung,” Seungkwan handed Jihoon a plate full of vegetarian dishes. “Take this to her so she doesn’t starve. I think that’s a good place to start.”

Jihoon took the plate from the younger with a grateful look. “Thanks Kwan, thanks everyone.”

With that, he walked towards the guest house next to the mess hall calling out your name. “Y/N! Are you in here?” As he stepped into the house, he saw you curled into a ball, sitting on the couch. “Faerie, I’m so sorry. I should’ve remembered that our customs, including diets, are probably completely different. You even told me that animals are considered friends in Faerieland, I should’ve been more careful.”

“No,” you turned to face Jihoon who was sitting next to you on the couch, crossing your legs to sit criss-cross. “It is not your fault. I also should’ve been more composed. I hope you know I do not judge the food you eat. We all have different practices. There’s a lot I must learn about the human world, as expected. Mistakes will be made, but it is never the fault of you or I.” Your gaze shifted to the plate, and as if on cue, your stomach grumbled loudly.

You shot Jihoon a sheepish look as he laughed endearingly. “Here, Seungkwan piled the plate with vegetables. Do you want to try?” You nodded excitedly. “Ok, here, this is kimchi,” he held the chopsticks up to your mouth, watching expectantly as you chewed. “Good?” Your eyes were wide. “Guess so,” he laughed, picking up something else with the chopsticks. “This is tofu, it is made from crushed beans...” Jihoon watched fondly as you ate everything on the plate, glad that he was able to at least provide some food that you liked. He would make sure to be more diligent in the future as you continued to navigate life in the human world.

That night, you and Jihoon came across another slight issue. After dinner (at which time you apologized to everyone for making a spectacle and for potentially offending them and thanked Mingyu for making extra vegetarian food for you this time), Jihoon asked you to get ready for bed in his room as the members discussed their plans to return to Seoul the next day. He was exhausted as he walked back to his room, stressed from how he was going to explain to the company that he returned from vacation with a girl.

The shock he received when he opened the door however was enough to re-energize him. “Oh my God!” he shouted, quickly shutting the door behind him and turning to face it. “Why are you in your underwear?”

You answered innocently, “I always sleep like this. The cottages in our land get warm at night as we must close all the doors and windows. Though it is a bit cold in this room.”

Jihoon turned to catch a glimpse of your face, and saw goosebumps littering your skin. He quickly turned back around, moving to the closet near the door. He grabbed a soft shirt of his and tossed it over his shoulder towards where he hoped the bed was. “Put this on.”

The noise of clothes rustling filled the silence before you muttered, “Ok, done.”

Jihoon turned around, relieved that you were somewhat clothed now. “Faerie,” he knelt onto the bed beside you, but you refused to look at him, choosing to pick at a loose thread on the duvet. He placed a finger under your chin, turning your head towards him. Your lips were slightly pouted, eyes a bit teary. “I’m sorry for shouting, I was just surprised and also didn’t want anyone else to see you like that.” You nodded, understandingly. “But darling, you can’t just be in your underwear in the human world ok?”

You quirked your head in confusion. “Why not? It’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

Jihoon choked on his saliva. “I-yes that’s true, but it’s not so much that as it’s just common practice to wear clothes to bed. Sometimes, the room is really cold, so you’ll want to bundle up, understand?”

“Yeah…” you hesitated. “Ok. It’s just…This material is kind of scratchy.”

“That’s my fault,” Jihoon sighed. He never really cared too much about the condition of his home clothes, so usually, he’d just throw them in the washer and dryer without using softening agents. It was safe to say that quite a few of his clothes were not in the most pristine condition due to his lack of care. “I promise, as soon as we get back to Seoul tomorrow, we’ll go out and get you some comfortable clothes to sleep in.”

You conceded with a nod, leaning into his chest. “Are you excited to go home tomorrow?”

Jihoon shrugged. “I guess. I don’t necessarily want to get back to my usual life, but it’ll be nice to have you with me. Are you excited?”

You were silent for a while. “Would you be upset if I said no?”

Jihoon pulled you away from his chest by your shoulders. “No, but I’d be concerned. What’s the matter?”

You turned your gaze down to your lap. “It’s not that I’m not excited to live in your home, with you. It’s just that…I still feel a bit connected to Faerieland here, amongst the trees and nature. I suppose I’m just going to feel homesick for a while.”

“I understand that, Y/N, and it’s normal. Moving away from home is not easy, and the transition is hard. It might be even harder for you since this is a completely different world, I won’t lie, but I promise to be with you every step of the way. If you tell me whatever you're feeling, whenever you feel down, I’ll do everything I can to make it better, ok?” Jihoon cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. His eyes were so full of love, you couldn’t help but surge forward to kiss him. A gasp of surprise caught in his throat as he quickly reciprocated.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “Thank you for finding me, for loving me, for giving me hope that I belong somewhere, with someone, with you.” You brought your right hand up to his chest, placing it over his heart. He did the same, leaning in to kiss you in time with the synchronized beating of your hearts.

“Wait,” Jihoon tried to speak, but you kept kissing him anyway. He chuckled, “Faerie, wait. We have to talk about the plan tomorrow.”

You shook your head vehemently, “Not right now.” You nipped at his bottom lip, smirking as he hissed. “Wanna keep doing this.”

With a firm hand and the shock factor on your side, you pushed Jihoon down onto the bed, crawling to sit on his thighs. You traced a lone finger along his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks. Your lips followed behind your finger, peppering kisses to every inch of his face. Jihoon’s hands came to grip your waist tightly as you moved to his neck, kisses becoming more firm, teeth nipping at the skin. You slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt, your touch tickling his abdomen.

Jihoon moved your face back to his, taking the lead to deepen the kiss this time. He moved a hand to your hair, fingers getting caught on the flowers thread into the ridges of the braids. Slowly, he sat up, still holding your body to his. Then he pulled away, pulling at the ribbon at the end of your braid, placing it gently on the bedside table.

“Turn around,” he murmured. You did so, wondering what he was doing as you felt the bed dip behind you. Jihoon was kneeling now, delicately undoing your hair, taking care not to crush any of the petals he pulled out. “Your hair looked so pretty, didn't want to ruin it.”

You tilted your head into his hands, humming as he massaged your scalp. “The younglings of the court did it for me. The Queen held a farewell ceremony for me, where I could hand over my powers to my successor and say goodbye to everyone. It’s also why I was wearing a much more intricate dress.” Jihoon took note of the dress you had draped onto the chaise lounge in the corner of his room, making a mental note to find a garment bag to place it in while packing tomorrow. “The flowers are handpicked from the Queen’s court. Nymphs rarely get to see those blooms, let alone hold them. I wish I had asked a flora nymph to enchant them so they would never wilt.”

Jihoon placed a kiss behind your ear, hoping to distract you from the regret seeping into your voice. “They are beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, causing you to giggle from the way his breath tickled, “but not nearly as beautiful as you.”

You snorted, and in that moment, you sounded more human than ever. “Cheesy.”

You squealed as Jihoon pulled you back onto the pillows, pinning your hands by your head as he hovered over you. “But it’s true, and I’ll tell you that over and over until I can’t speak a word anymore. I want it to be the first thing you hear in the morning and the last thing you hear before you go to bed. You’re beautiful. And I love you.”

You blushed, the color in your cheeks highlighted against the white pillows cushioning your head. Jihoon had a way with words that left you winded every time. “I love you too. Will you kiss me again?”

“Gladly.” Jihoon kissed you until you were breathless, and it filled him with pride. The last time you two were together, you were an otherworldly creature. You didn’t lose your breath when he kissed you. Your skin didn’t sweat or flush as much. You didn’t look affected by his ministrations at all. This time though, you were human, so your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your skin was pink and your bangs clung to your forehead, wet with perspiration.

And Jihoon loved it.

He walked the fingers of his left hand from your forearm to your own, entangling them. At the same time, he brought his right hand down to trace the top of your thigh, just below where the hem of his t-shirt lay. You shivered, his gentle touch causing a fire to ignite in your belly.

With one hand still holding your own, Jihoon slipped the other one under your shirt and up your body, placing it on your bra, over your breast. He used the tip of his index finger to trace down your cleavage.

You whined, “Don’t tease.”

Jihoon relented, pulling the cup of your bra down and squeezing your breast. Your nipple pebbled instantly against his palm and you groaned into his mouth when he pinched it with his fingers. Now desperate for more, Jihoon moved his hand to your back, effortlessly undoing the clasp with one hand. Then, he pulled away, ripping your shirt, bra and panties off your body until you laid bare beneath him.

He stared, bewitched by your beauty. Last time, it was night and the moonlight was blocked by the tent, preventing Jihoon from truly seeing you. Now, with the illumination from the bedside lamps, Jihoon could truly admire you. He let his eyes roam every expanse of skin on your body. He took note of the moles and scars he couldn’t see before, each one adding to your beauty.

“You’re a vision, Y/N,” he whispered, not wanting to shatter the atmosphere enveloping you both. “Want to cherish every piece of you.” He placed a dainty kiss on your sternum. “Will you let me, my love?”

You answered with an impatient whimper, thrusting your chest towards his face. Jihoon let out a huff of laughter and took your nipple into his mouth. You tangled your fingers into his hair, forcing his mouth to your other breast after he spent a few minutes sucking and biting the first one raw.

Jihoon took his time with you, placing kisses and sucking bruises into the swell of your breasts, the plush of your belly, down to the tops of your thighs. Then he wrapped his hands around your knees, making them bend until your feet were pressed into the mattress before spreading them apart. He nearly groaned out loud at the way your pussy glistened with wetness. Sliding his arms down to wrap around your thighs, Jihoon used the grip to lurch your body down the bed, bringing your cunt to his mouth.

You squealed, back arching when you felt the suction of his lips on your clit. He hadn’t done this the last time, and the slippery sensation of Jihoon’s tongue was only feeding the flames in your belly. You wanted-

“More,” you moaned. “Need more Ji.”

“Yeah?” Jihoon traced your opening with his finger, dipping just his nail inside. “Little Faerie isn’t satisfied? Always greedy for more.”

You whined his name again, wriggling against the iron grip he had on your thighs that kept you from sliding down on his finger.

“Don’t worry, you know I’ll always take care of you.” With that, Jihoon slipped two fingers inside of you, curling them up until they brushed just right against your g-spot. Your hands shot down to his head, pressing him deeper into your pussy as you tried to push your knees together. Jihoon loosened his grip, allowing you to bring your thighs against his face, keeping him locked. Jihoon thought he’d be content to die like this, with a tombstone that read: Here lies Lee Jihoon, death by suffocation in pussy.

Your fingers curled tighter into his hair as you cried, “I’m so close. Jihoon.” One last suck of your clit was all it took, and with a strangled sob, you gushed around his fingers, the silken walls pulsating. Your hands flung from his hair to the sheets, where you gripped them like a lifeline. Jihoon held your ankles as your thighs quivered, hips nearly coming off the bed as you bent up like a bowstring. Your mouth was open as you let out a loud moan, eyes rolled back so far you could see white. After a few seconds, your legs fell limply to the bed as you came down from your high.

Jihoon laughed as he pressed a wet kiss to your lips. “You have to be more quiet, Faerie. Don’t want the other guys to hear what a deviant you really are.”

You muttered a sheepish apology as you wrapped your legs around Jihoon's waist, pitching your middle up to grind against the bulge in his pants. You pawed at his shirt, pulling at the collar to send him a message that you wanted it off. As Jihoon tore his shirt over his head, you pushed up onto your elbows, placing feather light kisses to his pecs. Your fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants, shoving it down, along with his boxers. Jihoon hissed at the way your hand encircled his hard cock, thumb grazing the tip to collect his precum and spread it down the shaft.

You waited until he managed to kick the fabric away from his ankles before gently tugging him forward with the hand on his dick, angling it towards your entrance.

“Already?” he asked, astounded. “You’re not sensitive?”

“Don’t care,” you mumbled, reaching up to place your lips against his ear. “I’m so desperate for you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon tipped his head towards the ceiling and groaned, “Fuuuuck.” When he looked down at you again, now splayed out onto the sheets like a doll, his pupils were blown, eyes alight with desire. “I’m gonna ruin you, Faerie.”

He flipped you over, hauling you onto your knees. He pressed his chest to your back, guiding the corner of the duvet into your mouth. “Bite down on this. You’ll need it to stay quiet.” You did as he asked, earning a kiss to your temple before he leaned back up.

Then, he brought his cock to you, tracing the tip of it along your pussylips to gather the slickness. “Ready?”

One nod was all it took for Jihoon to thrust the entirety of his length into you. Your eyes screwed shut, scream muffled by the cloth in your mouth. Jihoon set off at an incredible speed, the force moving your body up towards the headboard. A veiny forearm wrapped around your chest, just under your tits, yanking you up onto all fours. Your teeth dug into the duvet, refusing to let it go despite it being wet with your saliva and tears.

“You’re so tight baby,” Jihoon’s voice was strained, as if it was taking everything he had not to come at the sensation of your cunt gripping him. He bit down onto your shoulder, sucking a constellation of bruises onto your shoulder blade.

A particularly sharp thrust caused your mouth to drop open in a strangled gasp. “Feels so good, oh my God, oh,” you babbled. “Thought about this every day since I left. Needed it so badly. Ached for you, Jihoon.”

“Naughty nymph,” Jihoon mock scolded. “Bet you touched yourself thinking about me, huh? All alone in the dark, trying so hard to stay quiet, with your little fingers stuffed in your pussy. It wasn’t enough though was it? Needed me there with you, to feel you, touch you, make you cum. Isn’t that right.”

“Yes, wasn't enough without you,” you moaned. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

“Never,” Jihoon growled, the hand not holding you up moving to draw messy circles on your clit. “You’re mine, Faerie. Gonna fuck you like this every hour of every day. Never letting you off my cock.”

You cried his name like a prayer, letting his words send you crashing into your second orgasm. It felt wet and slippery. You could feel the inside of your things get soaked, but you didn’t have the energy to care. All you had left in you was one last clench of your walls, and it was just enough to send Jihoon to his release as well. He groaned loudly, fingers digging into your sides so hard you were sure the skin would bruise. His hips were pressed tightly against your ass, breath warm against your spine where his head was resting. Together, you both flopped forward onto the bed.

You laid there, wrapped up in each other, until your breathing returned to normal. Jihoon shivered as he pulled out of you, placing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder when you whined. “Have to clean you up, love. One minute.”

After using a wet cloth to wipe you both down, he sent you to the bathroom. In the meantime, he replaced the sheets on the bed, shocked at the amount of wetness soaking them. That’s something we’ll have to explore again, he thought.

When you returned from the bathroom, he slipped his shirt onto your body again, joining you under the duvet after slipping on a fresh pair of boxers himself. He smiled as you snuggled up to his side, placing your ear against his heart.

“I love you, my Fate. I’m so thankful that it’s you I get to be with for the rest of my days,” you whispered, eyelids getting heavy.

“Me too, my love. Me too,” Jihoon said, placing a kiss on your head as you fell asleep. He was still unsure how to bring you up to the agency, and how to assimilate you into his life in the human world, but that was a worry for tomorrow. For right now, he chose to revel in how perfectly you fit in his arms, and how his heartbeat matched your own. He chose to trust the universe, because it brought him to you.

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #kpop #fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #lee jihoon #jihoon #woozi #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #jihoon x reader #jihoon fluff #jihoon smut #woozi x reader #woozi smut #woozi fluff #seventeen fic

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legitalicat · 9 months ago

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Out of Time

Chapter 7 - "Letters of Life and Love"

AN: Sorry for the long wait, lots of stuff going on in the personal. Also I may update the picture now that we have a new hairstyle for Jace lolol

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series masterlist here!

Summary: Tales of the past can help shape the future.

TW: blatant talks of past self harm, canon typical incest, Jace being tooth rotteningly sweet, talks of basically everyone being in love with everyone

Relationships: Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader, talks of just about every other ship imaginable in this story

Word Count: 3.8k

Aemond did not take it any further as we flew on Vhaela. He told me it was so that I could focus on flying, since it had been so long. Whether that was the truth, I wasn’t sure but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Yet, I didn’t particularly care.

Soaring through the skies on Vhaela’s back was perfect. The chill in the air stung against the skin of my face. The supple leather of the saddle she wore rubbed against my inner thighs. We passed birds who moved out of the way in perfect time with our approach. Today was the day I was meant to take to the skies.

I truly believed that the gods, whether they be the old or the new, made certain moments perfect. There had just been too many moments in my life that were so good there were no other explanations. This flight on Vhaela, the first time I flew on her, the first time I slept with Aemond, and the night I lost my maidenhead to Jace. How could I expect that much good to come from anything but divine intervention?

Aemond accompanied me the rest of the week so that I may fly, though he did choose to fly on Vhagar. We never went far, never past Felwood to the south or Duskendale to the north. Though in my bones I longed for more. I don’t imagine I would ever fly enough to be satisfied. In the sky I was free. Free from obligation and duty, free from the pains of my soul.

Free from the wretchedness that is Mother preparing me for this feast.

It felt as though I should’ve never agreed to it to begin with. I didn’t want every Lord in the seven kingdoms ogling me once again. Especially if word got out that my betrothal to Jace was no longer official. Men would see me as an opportunity to get close to the throne, maybe even have their children sit it one day. The thought disgusted me.

“Daemon, Rhaena, and Baela have returned from Driftmark. Your sisters are very anxious to see you,” Mother told me as she braided my hair. We were in her chambers, the door being propped open once we were dressed to allow a breeze. Today was warmer than usual.

I watched her reflection in the mirror as she moved. Sometimes I wondered if she thought of me as a doll. That is not to say anything against her parenting or the care she has given me, but it does cross my mind. She took every opportunity to dress me and fix my hair until I was perfect. Or as perfect as I could be.

“Step sisters,” I corrected her.

Rhaena and Baela may view my brothers as theirs but they made sure that I understood I was not their sister. Mother and Daemon always assumed part of it was Baela having a crush on Jace and Rhaena’s loyalty to her twin. I tried to offer to her that she could marry him and become Queen one day, begging with her that I would give anything to be their sister. But it was never about Jace.

Rhaena had been too kind and timid to say it to my face but Baela never had any problems with such. It was all about Vhagar and the role I played in Aemond claiming her. They claimed I showed no loyalty. That we were cousins and I should’ve convinced Aemond to allow Rhaena the chance to claim her first. They never listened to me when I told them he would’ve done it whether I was there or not. And they also never took into account I did not know them at that point. Yes, we were cousins, but they grew up far from King’s Landing. I grew up with Aemond at my side. Was he not owed my loyalty more?

“You are all women grown now,” she told me. “Surely you can move past this.”

“Mother I love the way you love your children, Baela and Rhaena included, but you need to realize a lot of us are far more capable than you think,” I said so firmly her hands took pause. “They are not the victims in anything, not more than I or Aemond. Yes, Rhaena did not have a dragon as a child but neither did Aemond until he claim Vhagar, and I waited longer. Yes, Baela and Rhaena lost their mother as children, but the four of us lost both men who could count as our father and I wasn’t even allowed to mourn. Rhaena and Baela started the fight that night on Driftmark because of their entitlement and Aemond lost his eye. The three of us did not get along during our girlhoods but not because of anything that I could help.”

“Darling,” she whispered. Her hands continued their motions, finishing the intricate braid.

“I offered Baela to take my place, did she ever tell you that? I thought if it was about Jace and her then I could deal with not marrying him so I could have sisters. It was never about that, it was about me telling the truth of Aemond losing his eye,” I told her. Tears started stinging my eyes as I spoke about things I swore I would never admit bothered me.

My entire life I always felt I had to be perfect. The perfect princess who would be the perfect queen. This kept me from having many emotional outbursts. The closest I ever got to crying in front of others was when tears forced themselves into existence as they did now. My pain was my own and I did not need others to experience it.

Jace always called it unhealthy. He said one day I would explode with the years of feelings I kept inside. I had always thought he was full of shit until I began to realize that physically harming myself made the pain in my chest ease. When I made a fist so tightly that my fingernails became so deeply embedded in my palms I started to draw blood, I was concerned at first. Until I realized I felt better. I referred to it as my pressure relief.

It became a growing concern. Jace caught me taking a knife to my thigh once when he had come to question why I was avoiding him. He was appalled at what I was doing. I tried to explain it was nothing bad, that I was merely caring for myself. He did not see it that way. He held me that night late into the night.

That was the night I gave him my maidenhead. I wasn’t sure you could fix someone by loving them hard enough. But gods, that night he tried. Looking back, it was awkward and clumsy, neither of us really knowing what to do. We were fifteen, nowhere near marriage, and Jace had always said I would be his first, so neither of us had any experience or had been taught anything. Though, I would not change anything about it. Thinking about it made me miss him more than I had the entirety of these last few weeks.

“You always stand up for every other child yet you do not stand up for the ones who need it most. I do not know if it is because you think I am strong enough to handle it, but I need you to come to my defense too. Not allow Jace to punish me in the ways he always does whenever I have displeased him. Not assume I can handle Baela and Rhaena isolating me for doing what was right,” I whispered, blinking rapidly to get the tears to go away. “Does Daemon know how close Alicent and you are?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Her jaw clenched for a split second. If I were not looking for any sign that I may be right, I would miss it. With that simple little movement, I knew that even if she denied it to me, I was right.

But then she eased and smirked at me. “You assume he is not involved?” she asked.

My eyes widened. That was enough asking questions for now.

“Aemond has asked I do not announce that your betrothal to Jacaerys is on pause,” she told me after a few moments of silence. I must have had a confused look on my face because she chuckled and then continued. “He says if other lords know, they will try something idiotic.”

“Smart man, he is,” I whispered. “But they will know something is going on when Jace ignores me as he has done for weeks now.”

“It was not my intention to ignore you, my sun,” Jace’s voice sounded in my ears. I turned to my left and saw him standing in the open door way. “Did nobody tell you? I got pulled away to Dragonstone and have only just returned an hour ago.”

“I think I would know if you had gone to Dragonstone,” Mother said before I had the chance to respond.

The more I thought, the more I believed that Jace had not been here. I had been at breakfast and dinner before anyone else and he had not been there. Whenever I sent someone to get him, they merely said they could not find him. Mother and I were so used to Jace being rather dramatic when his feelings were hurt, so his avoidance of anything to do with me had not come with questions. I was merely used to it.

He sighed rather loudly, an exasperated type of sigh. It sounded like an old man whose grandchildren were irking him and trying to get him to tell him stories of war. Perhaps he had grown.

“Then it is my fault for entrusting Joffrey to tell you both. He was there when I got the letter. I would have told you myself but the matter was urgent,” he said, walking over to us.

Mother had just finished pinning the braid. She had wrapped it around itself on the back of my head. It was a hairstyle her mother did for her before she had died, in fact doing it the morning of her death. She learned to do it and wore her hair this way the day she was named heir. It felt special

When I stood from my seat to face him, I noticed his jaw drop a bit. He looked me up and down many times over. When Alicent brought this dress to me this morning, I was a bit skeptical. It was a very fancy dress made of black silk and decorated with blood red rubies. It had a matching black silk cape that fastened around my neck, leaving only the area just above my cleavage visible. I wore earrings made of silver and a jewel called green tourmaline, a beautiful green with secondary tones of blue. It was, apparently, the closest one could get to a Velaryon House colored stone. I wore black shoes that bared the top of my feet, giving the style of my bed slippers but more durable. The outfit was modest, not showing enough skin to be considered indecent, but yet the fabric clung to my every curve in a way that felt completely indecent.

“You are so beautiful,” he said quietly.

“I feel a bit like a ham stuffed in a stocking,” I whispered, biting her lip.

“You are not a ham,” he said before offering a smile.

He was in a rather lovely outfit himself. His shirt was made of matching black silk, though it did not cling to him in such a way. It was fitted, giving him shape but hiding the further intricacies of his body. He was wearing fitted pants as well, making me blush a bit at how amazing his body looked in them.

“So what business did you attend in Dragonstone?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Sheepstealer was causing more trouble than usual,” he told the both of us. “As Prince of Dragonstone, the concerns of that island are mine own.”

Before Mother could say anything, I hugged him tightly. “Next time come get me yourself. If I am to be your Queen I need to be involved with your matters,” I said instinctually.

It occurred to me after I said it that I may not end up as his Queen. The possibility of that had never been present in my mind. It was always our plan in life that we would rule side by side, never one without the other. Any other reality made me ache.

My heart ached and it felt ridiculous. I am stuck choosing between two men that I love with everything in me. If I wanted to be really technical, I have three choices, though I could not name how I feel about Aegon. They love me the same. How silly it felt of me to be saddened by either possibility when no matter what I would love happily.

“I apologize, my sun,” he said quietly, hugging me to him just as tightly. “You are right, of course. I cannot hope to be a good King if I do not consider my Queen’s words on every decision.”

My heart fluttered against my chest. He still considered our marriage an inevitability, not just a possibility. He still thought of us being married and ruling together.

“Allow me to stay with you until it is time for your entrance?” he asked me. I nodded eagerly.

Mother looked between the two of us. Her gaze settled on me, her eyes searching my face. I gave her a subtle nod. She needed to know I had to be with him.

When she left the room, the doors still wide open behind her, I leaned into Jace’s arms. The world felt calm when he held me. The universe knew, somehow, that he was who I needed as my twin. He and I were balanced perfectly.

“You truly thought I was ignoring you?” he asked once I pulled away.

I looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back to him. He was looking at my with sad eyes. It hurt my heart to see him look like that.

“Yes. I thought you were upset enough that you were punishing me,” I told him.

He nodded and took my hand in his. “I’m sorry. Both for making you think that, and for what happened that night. It was not my place to act in such a way.”

“In truth, I think it is more your place than Aemond’s,” I admitted to him. I sighed quietly then looked to him. “You had a point. You are my twin, who I am formally betrothed to.”

He smiled at me. His smile was beautiful in a way that one had to see to understand. If you could imagine the way the prettiest sunrise makes you feel, that is how his smile makes me feel.

“You know, I like that you’ve grown your hair out. It’s quite curly, and you look amazing,” I told him. That simple of a compliment was enough to make him blush.

Jace and I felt so different than Aemond and I felt. With him there were no games. No constant battle for control. Our love for each other was simple and pure, uncaring of who was in control. I longed for the days when he was the only one who held a piece of me. It was so much simpler then.

“You always used to beg for me to grow it out,” he said with a smile on his face.

“And I was not wrong to,” I told him, smirking at him. “You look handsome. Classical. Like the prince from a fairytale.”

He reached his hand out towards me. I took it immediately, our fingers intertwining. He had somewhat of a sad smile on his face even though his eyes were sparkling like they normally did.

“It was never about us, was it?” he asked me. I couldn’t help the confusion that crossed my face at his question. “I mean…you are able to be complete with all of us, yes? Me, Aemond, even Aegon. The different sides of you that we all see, that is what makes you whole, and so it was never about one of us being better than another, but it was all about you feeling completed.”

As he spoke, he squeezed my hand. My throat felt as though it was beginning to close. All I could do was nod. I had no argument, no further explanation for him.

When Jace pulled me to sit on his lap, I could feel tears begin to prick at my eyes. The way he was so adamant about holding me close scared me. It almost felt like he was about to tell me he was done, that he didn’t want me anymore.

“I wish I could be the only one you need,” he said softly, placing his hand on my cheek. “I could never make you unhappy, issa dāria, and I thought giving you the time to find which you wanted would be the way to make you happy. But I realized something.”

“If this is your way of explaining to me you do not wish to marry me anymore, please just say it outright. This feels more cruel,” I whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

He shook his head softly. “Not at all. I could never love anyone else. I merely want to say that I have realized you have told me what would make you happy since we were children, and I was too selfish to ever consider it.”

My brain tried to understand what he was saying, to really grasp his meaning. But I could feel my heart banging against my chest as though it could already sense his next words. There was no way he was actually about to say it, was there?

“If marrying both Aemond and I is what will make you happy, I will no longer fight against it. I do not know how everything will work, I do not know how Aegon will fit into it, but I know that I love you and you love me. In the end, that is all that matters to me,” he told me, wiping away a tear that I had not been aware escaped my eye.

My entire life I had been begging for this. My entire life I knew that I was always meant to be with them, that my fate intertwined with theirs. I had convinced myself it was selfish and impossible.

I looked everywhere along his face, trying to find any uncertainty or reluctance. Yet, no matter how desperately I searched, there was none. He spoke the truth and his mind was made up.

“I imagine you already have thoughts as to how you wish it to work,” I whispered. He smiled at me and leaned forward to give me a gentle, albeit brief, kiss.

“Ideally we wait for certain things. You and I marry and give ourselves a couple of years so that we can have a child without question. I will not try to stop you from being with either of them in that time, I merely hope you will respect me enough to take precautions. Then after a couple of years, you and Aemond marry in the Valyrian tradition. Everything else I figure we will take it as it comes,” he said softly, running his thumb over my cheek again and again.

“And you truly love me enough for this?” I asked him. If there was any part of him that had any doubts, I could not ask him to do this.

“When I was in Dragonstone, I found letters. Many more than I ever thought had been shared, and in truth I should not have read any of them. But they were letters that Mother had received from Daemon, from our Aunt Laena, from our fathers, even from Alicent. All of these letters were discussing life and love in ways I had never thought of such,” he told me.

I placed my hand on the one of his that rested on my cheek. Simultaneously, I was pulling him further into me while holding him. He did not need to say anything else about them.

While I had not seen any from Alicent, I did once find nearly a box stuffed with letters. It was hard to piece together everything without Mother’s words, but I had an idea. Letters from Daemon and Laena talking about longing for Mother’s company, how they should have always been raising us and Rhaena and Baela together from the start. Letters from Ser Harwin, which I am almost certain he would hide for her to find instead of them being sent with a raven, describing her beauty and how she glowed when she was pregnant, thanking her for giving him such blessings. Ser Laenor’s were always phrased as though he was talking to his dearest friend, describing to her the beauty of the sea on the few trips out he went on after their marriage.

I could not honestly say I understood all the implications of them when I first read them. If I were being honest, they confused me more than told me anything. But when I thought back on them, I felt similarly to Jace. They teach more about love than most are willing to openly admit. That love does not always mean you find one person and that was it, after that person you were doomed to be alone.

“And your plans for you?” I asked him. I needed to know. If for no other reason, than if I felt too strongly about him talking about being with someone else, I couldn’t take him up on this. It had to be fair.

“I told you, I will never love anyone else,” he told me with a firmness that I had never heard from him. It was very Kingly of him. “I was not with anyone while you were away, but not because I never tried. After a couple of years, I tried. I tried to find love, I tried to find someone that could make the pain of losing you manageable. But after every person I met, I came to my chambers alone, still praying to every god imaginable you would be returned. I never even got so much as a kiss because any person I spoke with just made me ache more for you.”

“My darling, I never thought it could be so difficult for you,” I whispered. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

He kissed me softly. It truly was the best way to shut me up. And this kiss felt so good. It was like it was the beginning of everything.

#dividers by benkeibear #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon targaryen ii #out of time #aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #daemyra #rhaenyra targaryen

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sena-seastar · 6 months ago

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The Dragon's Gold

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Aerys Reyne (male oc)

Summary: Aerys Reyne, son of Naerys Targaryen, the second-born daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, has been best friends with Aegon since childhood. As boys, they had been inseparable. Many said that it reminded them of the early days of King Jaehaerys reign. When the princes Aemon and Baelon were still children. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. That was until forbidden desires of the heart forced a wedge between them. After the death of his grandsire, King Viserys, Aerys finds himself torn between two sides: stand by his oldest friend or stand by the only mother he has ever known.

Warning: NSFW, dub-con, angst, mentions of sh scars

a/n: This chapter is very long, so I apologize for that. Also, there will be smut in the chapter. Smut has never been my strong suit, so I apologize for any and all cringe inaccuracies. No beta, so I apologize for any and all grammar and spelling mistakes. Also, if anyone wishes to be tagged in future updates, just let me know!

Aerys

The full moon sat high in the sky, covering everything below with a slight blue hue. Aerys returned to his chambers after he finished saying his goodbyes. His feet were growing tired of standing. His elbows ached from resting against the wooden windowsill. The wind blew his hair behind him. His eyes watched as the dark red liquid swirled around the glass in his hand. Aerys sighed as he leaned his head back. He closed his eyes, basking in the muffled sounds of the city.

“Can’t sleep?” A voice asked behind him.

Aerys stiffened, quickly turning his head to find the intruder. Aegon stood behind him, fiddling with his fingers.

“How did you get in here?”

“The door...?” Aegon tilted his head slightly to the side. “Sorry, I thought you heard me knock...”

Aerys cleared his throat, turning his whole body to face the prince. “Why are you here?”

The two grimaced at the tone in his voice. It was harsher than he meant it to be.

“I-” the prince cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for what happened... at supper.”

The young lord stayed silent. His dark eyes glanced over the prince, his oldest friend who stood before him. It hurt... how distant they had become. As boys, they had been inseparable. Many said it reminded them of the early days of King Jaehaerys’ reign when the princes Aemon and Baelon were children. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. But they were no longer boys now. It seemed like they were no longer even friends. Just two strangers staring back at each other, mourning over their lost childhood.

“I don’t believe I’m the one you need to apologize to.”

Aegon dropped his eyes down at his black boots. “I know, but I still felt like I should. The way I acted was-”

“Disgraceful? Childish?” Aerys offered, raising his brows.

Aegon pursed his lips, nodding his head. “I suppose both of those would suffice.”

Aerys breathed deeply through his nose before walking towards the circular table in his room. He placed his glass on the table and reached for another, filling it with wine. Aerys lifted the new glass, holding it out for the prince to take. Aerys flinched when he felt Aegon’s skin graze against his fingers.

“Thank you,” the prince raised his glass.

“Should we sit?” Aerys asked, pointing to the table.

Aegon nodded, taking a seat at the opposite end. Aerys placed his glass on the table, shifting in his chair to get comfortable. A blanket of silence covered the room. They glanced at each other, eyes meeting only for a moment before they both turned their heads.

“What have-”

“How’s life-”

Both men paused, and their eyes widened slightly. They shared a glance before lowering their heads to chuckle.

“You go first,” Aerys said with a small smile.

Aegon nodded as he placed his glass on the table.

“I was simply going to ask how your life has been on Dragonstone.”

“Oh,” Aerys hummed, pondering the question. “Well, it’s not too thrilling. Just living day by day, I suppose.”

“Oh, come on,” Aegon scoffed. “Surely, you must have gotten into some trouble over the years.”

“No, I’ve never been much of a troublemaker.”

“What?! What about that time you pushed that woman into the garden fountain? What was her name... Elinda? Elenor?”

“Lady Elise Stokeworth,” Aerys mumbled.

“Yes! That’s it!” Aegon guffawed at the memory. “You pushed Lady Elise into one of the garden fountains at that party Father had thrown years ago.”

“That is not what happened,” Aerys grumbled.

“Oh, the look on your face after you did it! You were about to burst into tears.”

“It was your fault! You pushed me, and I bumped into her.” Aerys defended himself.

“Of course, blame me for your actions.” Aegon tsked, shaking his head with a disapproving smile.

“As I said, it was your fault.” Aerys shrugged, taking a sip of his wine.

Aegon looked at him and laughed. The prince raised his glass, bringing it up to his lips. Aerys’ dark eyes trailed down the prince’s face to his neck. His mouth watered as he watched the apple of his throat bob with each swallow. Aerys quickly cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the table.

“So it’s safe to assume you’ve been getting into quite a bit of trouble here in the capital?”

“Enough for the both of us,” Aegon answered.

“I believe it,” Aerys snickered.

The prince leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

“So, has any special lady caught your eye?” Aegon questioned.

The question had caught Aerys by surprise.

“No,” Aerys scoffed, shaking his head. “Though not for the lack of trying. I’ve received many proposals over the years.”

“And you haven’t accepted any? Why?” Aegon leaned forward, sitting up straight.

“I don’t know,” Aerys shrugged. “Marriage just seems so... Enervating?”

Aerys felt his stomach churn at the woeful expression that fell on the prince. He had hoped that the marriage between Aegon and Helaena would prosper in his absence. That with him gone, Aegon could better himself.

“But pay no mind to my fatuous beliefs. I’m sure it’s not so bad.” Aerys smiled, hoping to ease some of the tension his words had caused.

The corners of Aegon’s lips turn upwards in a tight smile. The prince raised his glass to his mouth, finishing what wine remained. Aegon tapped his hands on the table before standing to his feet.

“Come on.” He smiled, holding a hand out for Aerys to hold.

“Where are we going?” Aerys tilted his head with a catlike curiosity.

“You’re one and twenty now. I wish to help you celebrate.”

“My name day was nearly two months ago.”

“Yes, well, I was unable to attend. I wish to rectify that. Now come on,” Aegon replied, shaking his hand.

Aerys stared at the prince’s hand apprehensively. He shouldn’t take it. He knows he shouldn’t. The last time he did, the night ended in nothing but misery. Yet when he glanced up to find that stupid little smile on the prince’s face, how could he resist? The short time they had spent here at this table, laughing like nothing had changed, filled Aerys’ heart with hope. It was a small childish hope, but a hope nonetheless.

“The hour is late. Perhaps it is best if I get some rest.”

The prince’s smile dropped for a moment before it was replaced with a sly smirk. “Surely you do not intend for me to journey off alone. How would you live with yourself if something happened to me? Something that you could have prevented if you came with me.”

The memory of the night Rhaenyra first left for Dragonstone came to mind. Aegon was using the exact words to weaken his resolve. Aerys raised his hand hesitantly. He curled his fingers slightly before releasing them, allowing the prince to grab his hand. His stomach fluttered as Aegon’s cold hand squeezed his own, pulling him behind him. Perhaps tonight could be the fresh start that they needed.

—

The city's streets seemed less pleasant than they had been years ago. Perhaps it was because his childlike wonderment was gone, replaced by a more mature worldview. Aegon stayed close to Aerys as they walked side by side. The city still smelled of smoke, wine, piss, and sex, just as he remembered.

“We’ll go this way,” Aegon nodded to the right, pulling Aerys down a dark, unfamiliar alleyway.

They walked through the alley before coming out to a different street that Aerys had no knowledge of. His grip tightened around Aegon’s hand as he tried to stay as close as possible. The hordes of people were more dispersed than they had been before. Groups of men clustered together as they drank and yelled crude remarks to the women who passed by. Other men were pulling women into their laps to paw at their breasts. Younger women and girls wore scandalous dresses and skirts that left little unseen. No mummers and musicians were performing on this street.

The thrill he had felt as a boy did not return to him now. As they turned the corner, an old man leaned against a stone wall, stroking himself for all to see. Aerys averted his gaze, instead focusing on the stone path ahead of them. The old man laughed, waving out his tongue as they passed. The sight was appalling. Suddenly, Aerys felt regret about his decision to join the prince.

The two finally came to a stop.

“What is this place?” Aerys asked, leaning closer to Aegon.

“I’m treating you to a night of fun. Just trust me. I come here all the time.”

Aerys turned his head, looking over the building. It was a simple stone structure, unlike the brothel they had visited before. It was a much smaller, cheaper-looking whore house. The blue paint on the wooden door was chipping, and a badly painted red lantern was hanging above it. The smell coming from this place was even worse. The scent of ale and human waste overwhelmed his poor nose. Why would Aegon wish to spend his time in a place like this?

Aerys took a few steps back, turning his head both ways to look at the street. Aegon cocked his head to the side as he turned around to face Aerys.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I think I should be getting back,” Aerys replied with a small smile, hoping his words would not anger the prince.

“What? We just got here.” The prince shook his head.

“I know, and I am sorry, but I would like to return now.”

Aegon’s brows knitted together, and his nostrils flared. He was angry, or at the very least annoyed. Aerys shifted on his feet uncomfortably as if he were a small child awaiting his punishment. This was stupid. He was stupid. Why had he agreed to come? Why does he always give in to him so easily? Aerys could feel his heart thudding in his chest. His fingers began to tremble. Quickly, he started fiddling with the ring on his little finger. The young lord lowered his eyes, unable to face the prince.

“Hey,” the prince called, taking Aerys’ hands into his own.

Anxiously, Aerys turned his gaze upward. Aegon’s eyes had softened, and he flashed Aerys a half-smile.

“We can go back. But... at least have another drink with me first. There’s a place not far from here.”

Aerys sighed and dropped his eyes again. “Aegon-”

“Please!” The prince pleaded.

Aerys winced slightly from how tight the prince's grip on his hands had become. Aegon muttered a soft apology as he pulled away. The sadness clouding his features made Aerys’ chest feel heavy and his throat tight.

“Just. . .one drink?” Aerys asked apprehensively.

The corners of the prince’s mouth turned upwards. His eyes brightened up like stars as he pulled Aerys along. Aerys struggled to keep up as Aegon dragged him down the street. They crossed two more alleys before loud cheering and laughter caught his attention. He could see they were making their way to an inn. A group of men sat outside of the inn’s doorway, toasting to something. It was a plain-looking two-story inn made of stone. Two black lanterns sat above the entrance, lighting up the front of the building.

Aerys sat at the bar inside the crowded inn. He fiddled with his ring while waiting for his companion to return with their drinks. Aegon pushed past two men, placing a large wooden cup before him. Aerys thanked him loudly before he took a drink. The taste nearly made him gag. Aegon laughed at the look of disgust on his face.

“What is that?”

“It’s beer. Not as good as the fine wine you’re used to, but it does the trick.” He laughed.

Men and women in the tavern began to shout as the music picked up. Aerys watched as couples began to dance. He jumped when a drunken man fell over, sending a table crashing down with him.

“Come on,” Aegon grabbed his hand, pulling him up from his seat.

“Where are we going?” Aerys asked as they slipped through the crowded inn.

“It’s too noisy down here. I got us a room,” Aegon explained as they started up the stairs.

—

The room was decent for a cheap inn. It was a simple square room. A bed was placed against the wall in the corner of the right side. Above the bed was a small window with bars on it. The floor was wooden, with no rug to cover it. There were no tapestries to decorate the boring stone walls. A small table with two chairs sat against the wall on the left side of the room. Two thick candles sat on the table for lighting.

Aerys paced back and forth, fiddling with the ring on his finger. He sighed before pulling it off and tucking it away in the hidden breast pocket of his cloak. The young lord stilled as the door swung open, but he calmed down once he saw that Aegon had returned. The prince had left him to fetch some wine.

“Sorry, I took so long. It’s quite rowdy down there.” Aegon smiled as he moved to place the large wineskin on the table.

Aerys watched as the prince poured the wine. He walked forward to accept the wooden goblet from the prince’s hand. Aerys took a sip, watching Aegon move to sit at the edge of the bed, kicking off his boots. The young lord quickly sat at the table, ignoring how Aegon patted the bed beside him. Aerys took slow sips of his wine. His mind began to cloud slightly from all he had consumed this evening. The two sat in silence. Only the muffled sounds of the crowd below them could be heard.

“Aerys?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember that day in the garden? When you fell asleep on my lap under the shade tree.”

Aerys' breath hitched as the memory popped into his mind. The same memory he had seen earlier before the petitions. He swirled his wine in the goblet, clearing his throat.

“I believe we spent many days like that.”

Aegon hummed with a content smile. “Yes, we did. How simpler things were then...”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say simple... we had problems then too.” Aerys shrugged, staring into the dark red liquid.

“We did,” the prince agreed. “But those problems were nothing but childish nonsense. I often find myself craving the benign problems of my youth.”

Aerys sighed. “I believe many people feel the same. What are the insignificant worries of children compared to the overwhelming plights of adulthood?”

“Well, you’re certainly as jovial as I remembered you to be.” The prince quipped, finishing the last of his wine.

The loud clacking echoed as his goblet fell to the floor. Aerys stilled as sniffling reached his ears. Nervously, he shifted his eyes to the prince. The man still sat at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging low.

“Aegon?” He called out softly.

The prince lifts his head to look at Aerys. His messy hair clings to his tear-stained face. Almost immediately, Aerys finds himself on his feet, moving to sit at Aegon’s side. He pushed the man’s hair away, tucking it behind the prince’s ears. Gently, he began wiping the tears off his face. The action only seemed to make the man cry even more. Aegon grabbed Aerys’ hands, pressing them against the sides of his face. The prince closed his eyes as he nuzzled into the young lord’s palms.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology makes Aerys freeze. His dark eyes trailed over every inch of the prince’s face. Aegon moves a hand to Aerys’ wrist and squeezes.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Aerys shook his head.

“No. I ruined everything.” Aegon cried.

“What are you-? No, Aegon, you didn’t-”

“I did. I ruined everything.” The prince whimpered.

Aerys wrapped his arms around him, pulling the crying man into his chest. Aegon quickly sank into Aerys’ embrace, wrapping his arms around the young lord as he released a sharp but shaky breath. Aerys didn’t know what he should say or if there was anything he could say to offer comfort. All he could do was hold him. All he could offer him was a warm embrace and a shoulder to cry on. Though from the way the prince shook and held on tighter, Aerys believed that was what he needed.

Aerys was confused about how it had all come to this. Everything had been fine, cordial. Maybe it was just the wine. Aegon pulled back with a shuddering breath. Aerys could see his eyes still filled with tears. The prince leaned forward, and Aerys did not move, allowing the man to press their foreheads together. Aegon placed his hands over Aerys’ knee.

Aerys could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the painful sobs Aegon tried desperately to suppress. The air seemed so thick it made it difficult to breathe. The day and evening leading up to this moment seemed forgotten. The only thing echoing in his mind was the soft cries of his oldest friend. He moved one hand to cup Aegon’s cheek and used the other to smooth the prince’s hair down.

“Shhh- it’s alright,” He whispered, like a mother comforting her baby.

Aerys kissed the prince’s head before pressing his forehead against Aegon’s. Aerys peeks through his eyelashes to watch the prince. The dim candlelight made him look so tired.

“Aegon, look at me.”

It’s a command, but not a firm or demeaning one. Just calm and authoritative enough to make the prince obey. Aerys slid both hands onto Aegon’s face. The man’s sobs had turned to loud sniffles and painful-sounding hiccups. He used his thumbs to wipe away the dampened tear trails on Aegon’s cheeks. Aerys could smell the strong wine on the prince’s breath. He could feel the heat of his breath against his face.

Neither of them spoke. They simply stared at each other through dark lashes. Aerys ran his thumb across the prince's cheek. He felt one of Aegon’s hands grip onto his leg. The intensity of the prince’s gaze lit a fire in the pit of Aerys’ stomach.

Aerys wants to pull away. He knows he should. But when Aegon’s strong hand ran up and down his thigh, all logic began to flee from him.

“I’m so fucking tired of feeling like this...” Aegon mumbles tiredly.

“I know...” Aerys whispered.

Suddenly, Aegon is leaning closer. It takes only a second before their lips meet—Aerys stills, unsure what to do. On one hand, he knows he should push him away, but on the other, it’s more complicated. Aegon presses another kiss to Aerys’ lips before Aerys pulls away. Aerys winced as he swallowed the saliva, which was beginning to pool in his mouth. His hands dropped from the prince's face to his lap.

“Please,” Aegon begs. “Please.”

The prince leans forward, their lips softly grazing each other.

“We can’t,” Aerys whispered.

Aegon shook his head, leaning in the rest of the way. Aerys movements are stiff at first, as he tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him to stop. Aerys can feel his emotions battling it out inside of him—a mixture of anxiousness and arousal. The kiss continued. Aegon’s hands gripped tightly around Aerys’ waist, pulling him closer. Aerys tilted his head slightly to cave his tongue into the prince’s mouth. Quickly, it was becoming sloppy and desperate, but that made it more erotic.

Aerys could taste the wine lingering on the prince’s tongue. He finds the taste almost addicting. His hot tongue explores the prince’s mouth, and Aegon lets him in without protest. Coating each other with spit as Aerys feels the rough texture of Aegon's tongue against his own. Aegon’s hand trails down, placing itself over Aerys’ growing bulge. The young lord pulls back with a slight hiss. A string of saliva keeps them connected until Aerys swipes it away. Aegon tries to climb onto his lap, but Aerys presses a firm hand against his chest, keeping him at bay. The young lord uses his other hand to grip the prince’s wrist, pushing his hand away from his lap. A pitiful whine escapes the prince’s throat.

“Please,” he begs again. As if it’s the only word he can remember. “Please.”

Aegon’s eyes are welled with tears. His bottom lip trembled as he let go of what little dignity remained to him. Aerys turned his head, squeezing his eyes closed. He dropped his hands to his lap, releasing the prince’s wrist. This had to stop. They had gone far enough.

“We shouldn’t-” he began but was interrupted.

Aegon shifted onto his knees. His cold hands cupped Aerys’ face, using his body weight to push him on his back. Aerys fell back on the bed with a soft grunt.

“Aegon, I mean it-” Aerys brings his hands to the prince’s shoulders to keep some distance between their faces.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, kissing Aerys’ lips softly.

The prince swung his leg over Aerys' lower body, straddling him. His lips parted to speak, but no words came out. Aerys could feel panic beginning to course through him. They mustn’t. This is wrong.

“I-we can’t.” Aerys sputtered, trying to scoot up the bed.

He gasped as Aegon pressed his weight down on him. He was pressing himself against Aerys’ growing bulge. Aegon leaned down, peppering wet kisses up and down Aerys’ neck. His cold hands slide underneath the young lord’s tunic, slightly pushing it up. The warmth makes Aerys’ skin pimple with goosebumps. Aerys wants to push him away, but he finds himself unable to.

“Aegon,” he groans, feeling the prince’s teeth against his neck.

Aegon retracts his hands, placing them on the sides of Aerys’ head. The prince pulled back just enough so they could face each other. Their noses gently grazed each other.

“I need this Aerys. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Please, help me.” The prince begged, his eyes brimming with tears.

Aerys wanted to say no. He wished that he was strong enough to deny the prince- that he was strong enough to deny himself. But the tremble in Aegon’s voice, the heartbreak in his eyes, and the desperation on his face were enough to break the young lord’s resolve.

“Please,” Aegon whispers, “I need this. I need you.”

Aerys’ hand cups the back of the prince’s head, pulling him in for a tender kiss. It feels nice. It's so lovely that Aerys has no problem pushing away those negative thoughts creeping in, instead choosing to lose himself in the prince’s touch.

Aerys pushes himself up, sitting the two of them upright. Aegon giggles, a blissful smile covering his face. Aerys leaned forward, peppering kisses along the prince’s jaw and neck. Aegon whimpered, tilting his head to the side. His hand tangled itself in Aerys' hair, holding his head close. Aerys fingers begin deftly untying the laces on the front of Aegon’s tunic. They pulled back long enough for Aerys to pull it over the prince’s head and toss it over his shoulder. Then they're at it again. Aerys pressed sloppy kisses against the prince's neck and shoulders.

His palms gripped Aegon’s hips, which were erratically pressing themselves against his, desperately chasing after some friction to ease the ache between his legs.

“‘m sorry,” he whines, “need to feel you against me.”

Aegon lowers his head, hiding in the side of Aerys’ neck. Aerys hissed, his nails digging into the prince’s skin, trying to slow Aegon’s movement. His cock was straining against his trousers, begging to be released.

“Please, I- mmn,” Aegon whispers, at a loss for words.

“Say it,” Aerys said. The commanding tone in his voice leaves no room for the prince to object. Not that Aerys believed he would.

“I want you.”

The reply isn’t good enough. Aerys lifts his hand, taking the prince’s chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Aegon, look at me.”

Once again, it’s a command, calm and authoritative enough to make the prince obey. His eyes flutter open, and Aerys can see they are glossed over with lust and desire. His hips struggle against Aerys' remaining hand, trying to move faster, but Aerys manages to keep his pace slow and steady.

“Say it again.”

“I want you.”

“How?”

Aegon whines, a pitiful pout forming on his lips. “Aerys, I want you to fuck me.”

The words are crude, but they set the pit of Aerys’ stomach ablaze. Aerys holds Aegon close before rolling them over. The prince lands on his back with a soft laugh, a blissful smile covering his face. He pulls Aerys close for another kiss. Aerys’ fingers unlace the prince’s trousers. He can feel the man’s hard cock throbbing against his palm. Aegon holds the side of the young lord's neck, hissing as Aerys’ hand grazed his aching bulge. Aerys stands to his feet, and Aegon lifts his hips so the man can pull his trousers down. Aerys drops them to the ground. His breath hitched, and his mouth watered as he watched Aegon's cock pulse against his lower stomach, desperate for some relief. Aerys follows suit, ridding himself of his own restricting clothing.

“There’s a vial in my pocket. Grab it, will you?” The prince points behind Aerys.

Aerys nods, reaching down to retrieve the vial. He inspects the glass vial, which is full of golden-yellow liquid, as he pulls it out.

“Oil?”

The prince nodded in confirmation. “It makes it easier.”

Aerys nods, climbing onto the bed. Aegon spreads his legs wider so that Aerys can slide between them. Aerys sat on his knees, breaking the seal of the vial. Aegon lifted his head, watching as Aerys coated his cock with the oil. Aerys gave himself a few strokes, properly coating his cock. His hips bucked against his touch. His body was glad to be touched finally. Aerys let out an amused snort as the prince’s eyes stayed glued to his hands.

“Shut up,” Aegon scorned.

Aerys gives no reply. He tilts the vial, letting some oil drip down to the prince’s hole. Aegon shivers, and the hair on his skin rises.

“Cold?” Aerys asked.

“A bit,” Aegon nods.

“Sorry,” Aerys apologizes, even though it’s not his fault.

“Just get inside me already.”

Aerys stopped, his head tilting in confusion.

“Don’t you need to be prepared first?” He asked, nodding towards the prince's bottom.

“I don’t care, just do it.” Aegon groans, trying to push himself on Aerys’ cock.

Aerys ignores his words, using a finger to work the oil into the prince’s hole.

“Fuck, fuck,” The prince cries out.

Aerys’ index finger circles around the puckered entrance. He used the oil to help coax his finger inside. The muscles clenched as he worked his way inside.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Aegon hisses.

Aerys freezes, unsure if he has done something wrong.

“Keep going,” Aegon groaned.

He continued his work until he could fit three fingers in with ease. Aerys retracted his hand. Aegon writhed beneath him, whimpering. Aerys lifts the prince’s legs before lining himself up.

“Please,” Aegon whines, pressing down on Aerys’ cock.

“Are you sure?” Aerys asks, any playfulness gone from his voice. He needed to know that Aegon was sure if they were going further.

“Mhm,” the prince nodded.

He’s tight, but the work Aerys has put in makes it easier. They both groan as Aerys sinks his cock deeper. Aegon’s eyes are clamped shut, his mouth open wide, as his sinful noises echo in the air.

Aerys kisses the prince’s neck, his tongue gliding down to his collarbones. He hears Aegon take a deep breath through his nose.

“I’ve missed you,” Aerys whispers into the man’s skin.

Aegon mewls at the confession. Aerys continues, planting butterfly kisses across the man’s chest.

“I’ve missed your smile.”

The prince arches his back against Aerys' touch. Aegon’s head was thrown back, his brows pinched, and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hip bucked underneath Aerys’ weight.

“I’ve missed your voice.”

Aegon gasps so deliciously, his back arching deeper than before. The tip of his cock looked swollen and red, begging to be relieved. Aerys swiped his thumb over the tip, smearing the leaking precum along the shaft. Aegon yelps and shivers, his hips bucking against Aerys’. The man runs his fingers along the veins of his cock, from the tip to the base.

“Aerys, please!” He moans.

Aerys peers at him through dark eyelashes, amazed by the sight before him. How could a man so beautiful, so ethereal, be spread out before him like this- allowing him to touch him in such a way?

“Gods!” Aegon hissed through gritted teeth. “It-it’s too much,” the prince gasps. “Fuck!”

“Shh,” Aerys cooed, his fingers gripping tighter on the man’s cock. “I’ve got you.”

With a low groan and stuttering hips, Aegon releases. Coating Aerys’ hand with hot cum. For a moment, the prince is nothing more than a flushed, babbling mess. Aerys gives him a moment to breathe.

“That’s it, you’re doing good,” Aerys praises, smiling when Aegon responds with a choked gasp, his face growing red.

Aerys releases a shuddered breath as he sinks deeper. The feeling is overwhelming. Aerys’ body tenses, his nails dig into the prince’s hips, holding him in place as his warmth squeezes around Aerys’ throbbing cock. Aerys struggles to hold out, not wanting to reach his peak so soon. Aegon’s hands grab Aerys’ arms, fingernails digging into his skin. Aerys could hear his breathing stop almost completely.

“Breathe, Aegon,” he commands, “in and out. That’s it.” He praises as he watches the prince's chest move up and down.

“I’m gonna move now,” Aerys whispers before rolling his hips.

Aegon whines, one of his hands sneaking up to the back of Aerys’ neck, pulling his body closer. Aerys allows it, pressing his upper body against Aegons. He can feel Aegon’s cock rubbing against his stomach.

“Fuck,” Aerys whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You don’t have to s-say things like that.” The prince sputtered, grinding against Aerys’ cock.

“I want to. I mean it.”

Before the prince could speak, Aerys rolled his hips again, using the man’s body earnestly. Sweat started to bead on his forehead. There’s a fierce look of concentration on Aegon’s face as he tries to meet the man’s thrusts. The lewd sound of Aegon’s ass slapping against Aerys’ thigh echoed in the air. Aerys leans his face down, peppering soft kisses on the prince’s cheek. Aegon’s hand guides his head, pulling him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and wet. Their hot tongues coated each other with spit. Aerys rested his hands on both sides of the prince’s head, using them to hold himself up so he wouldn’t put too much weight on Aegon. However, the prince did not seem to appreciate his efforts.

Aegon hooked his legs around the man’s waist. His strong arms wrapped around Aerys’ shoulders, pulling him closer so their chests were pressed against each other. Aerys dropped onto his elbows, his hips moving faster, eager to find his release. He pulled away with a gasp; his lungs burned, desperate for air. Aerys buries himself into the crook of the prince’s neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin.

“Gods, I love you, ” Aerys whispers.

He stills as he feels a wetness connecting with his ear. Aerys raises his head slightly, enough to see Aegon’s eyes rolled back, his cheeks puffy and stained with tears. Aerys feels his balls tighten, but he slows his pace.

“No!” The prince whimpered. “Keep going, please!”

His fingers grip Aerys’ waist, and the heels of his feet dig into the flesh of Aerys’ ass.

“ahh fuck,” Aerys moaned.

“F-fuck,” Aegon moaned out with him.

Aerys pressed wet kisses to Aegon’s cheek, enjoying the salty taste of his tears mixing with his sweat. Aerys wanted more of him. No, he needed more of him.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Aerys groans, his hips pounding relentlessly into the prince’s stretched hole.

Aegon’s hands cup the sides of Aerys’ face, pressing their foreheads together. Once more, they stare at each other through dark lashes. Aerys' long hair fell forward, blocking them from the world around them. It was only them. They were all that mattered.

The prince's eyes are burning with lust and need.

“You’re mine, Aerys.” Aegon huffs. “Mine.” He smiles triumphantly.

Aerys says nothing, putting all his energy into his thrusts.

“Say it.”

Aerys can hear the jealousy in his voice.

“I’m yours,” he reassures, blinded by his pleasure.

Aegon hums, pleased with his answer. The prince knits his brows together as he grinds his hips down against Aerys’ cock. Aerys’ nails dug into the prince’s hips, holding them up slightly as he thrusts. His hips jerked forward wildly as he emptied himself inside of Aegon. The prince followed suit, this time spilling his cum against Aerys’ stomach.

The two lay there, boneless. Their heavy breath was hot against each other's faces. Aerys carefully pulled himself from the prince’s abused hole. Aegon hissed, his nail digging into the man’s skin. They shared another kiss. This one was sweet and slow. Neither of them had the energy to kiss each other with the vigor they had before. Aerys pulled back, pressing a soft kiss on the prince’s head before rolling off him. His back hit the thin blanket, and his arms rested on his heaving chest. Aerys turns his head to find Aegon staring at him. The two stare into each other's eyes before breathing a shared laugh.

Aerys groaned, sitting himself up. He moved to the small table, grabbing his goblet. Aegon scooted up the bed, resting on the nearly flat feather pillow. Aerys took a sip of wine before handing it off to Aegon.

“You should probably be drinking water, but I’m afraid this is all we’ve got.”

“How dreadful,” Aegon smirked, taking the goblet in hand.

When the man is done with the goblet, Aerys retrieves it and sets it back on the table before pulling on his trousers.

“Are you leaving?” Aegon asked.

“We should get back to the castle, should we not?”

The prince shakes his head. “We should rest for a bit.”

Aerys shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“Besides, I’m not sure I’m up for much walking right now.” The prince teased.

Aerys felt the heat rise in his face. He dropped his gaze to his feet. Aegon patted the bed beside him. Aerys climbed back into the bed. They pulled back the blanket, crawling under it. The prince decided to lay on Aerys, his head on his chest and his arms curled around his sides. Softening under his touch, Aerys wraps his arms around his prince. One of his hands toyed with Aegon’s hair, patting down the messy locks that tickled his face.

Aerys was content, happy even. Happier than he had been in years. Yet the knowledge that this night would come to an end began gnawing at his mind. He shook his head. His impending guilt and shame would have to wait.

Dark shadows blanketed the walls of the room. The light nearly snuffed out as the candles burned dangerously low, and every now and then, random sounds of wood creaking would echo through the air. As Aerys took a deep breath, his nose was filled with the mixture of both their scents. It filled his chest with a deep sense of peace and calmness. He was content.

Aerys tensed as he felt Aegon trail his fingers across the rows of scars that now marred his stomach. There were so many now that it was obvious where they had come from.

“Do you still do it?” The prince questioned quietly.

“No,” he answered through gritted teeth.

He felt the prince nod against his skin.

“How are you feeling?” Aerys asked, running his hand up and down Aegon's back, hoping desperately that the prince would move on.

“A bit sore.” The prince sighed, raising his head to look up at Aerys.

Aerys' face must have held a worried expression because the prince quickly shook his head.

“You make love like a woman,” Aegon quipped.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I liked it.” The prince smiled, nuzzling into Aerys’ chest.

The young lord had lost track of how long they had been lying here. They had both dozed off shortly after they coupled. When he awoke, he found Aegon still curled up in his arms, tracing the lines on his stomach with his finger.

“You know. . .” The prince chuckled. “I used to imagine this very moment.”

Aerys kept his chin resting on the top of Aegon’s head. His hands stilled, slightly loosening his grip on the prince’s arm. Aerys swallowed the spit pooling in his mouth. He winced as it went down his throat harsher than expected. It seemed his emotions were tired of waiting. The weight of what they had done was creeping onto his shoulders. Guilt and shame were beginning to spread through his chest like pesky weeds.

“That night you left was awful, but the morning was even worse. When I woke up, the first thing I wanted to do was seek you out. Then I remembered you were gone.”

There was a slight tremble in his voice as he spoke. Aerys wasn’t used to this, talking after sex. Usually, the whores would happily take his money and wave gleefully as he left. Shouting for him to come again. But this was different. The air that had comforted him felt almost suffocating now.

“Perhaps we should head back now,” he suggested, ignoring the prince’s confession.

The man pushed the prince back slightly, just enough to crawl out from under him. Aerys bent down, pulling on his socks and boots. He could feel Aegon’s eyes burning into his back. He stood to his feet, reaching to the ground to grab his discarded tunic. His skin itched. The need to be cleansed gnawed at him. He wanted to return to the castle to scrub himself clean.

“Did I do something wrong?” Aegon asked timidly.

Aerys turned his head to look at him. That was a mistake. The prince’s brows were pinched together, and his lips were turned into a sad little frown. His eyes welled up with tears.

Aerys shrugged the tunic over his head and shoulders. He shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“Aerys, I'm sorry if it’s about what I said. I understand why you left-”

“It’s not about that Aegon.” The young lord sighed. “Look, can we just. . . go back to the castle?”

“Will you tell me what I’ve done?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Aerys shrugged.

“Then why are you being this way?!” The prince asked, raising his voice.

Aerys stopped, his eyes narrowing at the prince. He turned with a slight scoff, bending down to fetch his cloak. Quickly, his fingers tied the laces around his neck.

“Wait, wait!” Aegon pleaded, jumping up from the bed.

Aerys moved to take his leave. Aegon quickly stepped in front of him, grabbing him by his forearms. He moved one hand to cup Aerys’ face. The touch sends a shiver down his spine.

“I’m sorry, alright? Let's just go back to bed.”

“Aegon,” Aerys sighed, pulling his face back. “I need to get back to the castle.”

“Everyone is still sleeping, there’s no need to rush-”

“Why must I beg you?” Aerys sneered. “If you will not return with me, then at least let me go on my own.”

The prince dropped his hands to his sides. Aerys watched as his face hardened.

“Why must you beg me?” He snickered. “It is I who should be asking that question. Why must I beg you to stay at my side? Why do you insist on resisting me as if I am some sort of plague?”

“You know why.”

Aegon scoffed loudly. “Because you are a coward. A sad little boy who runs away at the first sign of adversity.”

Aerys' jaw clenched in anger. His hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Are you finished?” He gritted his teeth.

The prince’s face softened, his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Do you think I want to feel this way for you?” Aegon’s voice is low. His lips trembled as he fought back tears.

Aerys shifted his weight between his feet. His breath hitched in his throat, and his blood pumped loudly in his ears.

“Aegon-”

“You don’t think I want to be a better man? You don’t think I want to be the good, honorable man that you’ve always believed I could be?”

“Aegon-“

“I love you, Aerys! You are the love of my life, and it kills me that I cannot be with you. It kills me that you continue to run away from me. I don’t know who I am without you. I’ve spent the past five years waiting for you. I would watch the skies day and night praying to any god that would listen to bring you back to me.”

Aerys looked down in shame, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“The first two weeks after you left, I couldn’t eat. I could hardly sleep. I spent my time drinking and whoring, doing anything I could to free myself from these chains you have wrapped around my heart.”

Aegon waved his hands out to the side before dropping them, letting them smack against his legs. His tears flowed freely as he began to sob. He wiped his eyes, breathing in before he continued.

“None of it worked. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was you. My every thought, my every dream, my every wish. . .It’s all you.”

Aerys’ own eyes burned with tears. He swallows the thick lump of sadness in his throat. The young lord prays to the gods to strike him down now. Death would be kinder than this aching pain in his chest.

“You think I want to be in this position? That I wouldn’t give up everything to be able to escape all of this and run away with you?!”

“Aegon, please. . .” Aerys begs, unable to hear anymore.

“I thought we were past this?” Aegon whispers. “You- you kissed me. You made love to me. You told me you love me-”

“Words spoken in the heat of the moment,” Aerys shook his head. “I did not expect you to take them to heart.”

Aegon scoffed, taking a step back. “So it meant nothing to you?”

“Of course it did!” Aerys scrunched his face in frustration. “Aegon, nothing has changed. You’re married, you-”

“None of that matters! Say the word, and I will leave it all behind.” The prince moved closer, taking Aerys’ hands into his own. “I asked you once, years ago. To leave this place with me. The offer still stands. We could go and disappear from all of this. We could do whatever we want. We’d drink the rarest of wines, dine on the finest foods, and be free to be with each other. We could leave all of this behind.”

A small, pitiful smile spreads across the prince’s face. His eyes gleam with hope. A deep silence took over the room as Aerys searched the man’s face for anything to tell him that the man wasn’t serious. But he found nothing. The prince meant every word.

“You talk of wanting to be an honorable man, yet now you speak of running away? Of abandoning your family?” Aerys shook his head in disbelief.

The prince’s smile dropped. His face contorted in a mixture of pain and shock. Aerys pulled his hands free from the prince’s grasp.

“This was a mistake,” he whispered, brushing past Aegon to the door.

He slammed it shut behind him, quickly rushing to the end of the hall and descending the stairs. His eyes welled with tears, almost blinding him. They fell as he attempted to blink them away. The inn had settled down a bit but was still crowded. Aerys slipped through the crowd, desperately trying to get outside. He needed air to free him from the invisible hand squeezing his throat. He needed to feel the cold breeze of the night sky against his skin.

The young lord stumbled out of the building, nearly falling to his knees on the cold cobblestone street. His head turned left and right, unfamiliar with his surroundings. In the end, he chose to head right, walking as fast as his legs could go.

—

The castle was quiet, eerily quiet. Aerys had finally made his way back to the red keep. It took some time, but he found his way. He had felt guilty for abandoning Aegon, but he quickly reassured himself that the prince would be fine. He had been venturing out into the city since he was old enough to do so. Aerys stripped himself of his clothes, leaving them piled on the floor. Cold water droplets trickled down his skin as he scrubbed himself with a wet rag. Aerys did not wish to trouble the maids with preparing a bath at this hour. So he settled for a simple bowl of cold water and a washcloth. The hair on his body stood up as the chilly night air poured into the room.

He hissed as the drenched rag moved over his groin. The lord stared at the stone wall, keeping his own body out of view of the mirror. He could not bear to look at himself.

The night's events replayed in his head over and over again. He had been so stupid, so weak. Once again, history seemed to be repeating itself. Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He could still feel the prince’s hands on his skin. The way his fingernails dug into the skin of his arms. The most troubling part wasn’t that it happened, but that Aerys enjoyed it. He wanted more.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

He dropped the rag back into the bowl. Aerys went to his bed, not bothering to dry his skin. He needed to stop thinking. The man slipped under the covers and curled up into a ball. Sleep, he needed to sleep.

—

The sound of loud footsteps awoke Aerys from his slumber. He lifted his head from the soft pillows beneath him. Loud voices and equally loud footsteps echoed from behind the door. Aerys moved onto his feet, quickly shuffling around the room to dress himself. He attempted to wipe the sleepiness away from his eyes as he walked to the door. He grasped the doorknob, trying to open the door, but it would not budge. Aerys placed both hands on the doorknob, fidgeting with it. Was it locked? He began to pound his palm against the door.

“What is the meaning of this?”

There was no reply. Aerys used one hand to jiggle the doorknob and the other to beat against the door. The footsteps and chatter began to fade away. Aerys moved to the bell beside his bed to call for a maid. He rang several times before he dropped his hand with a deep groan.

“Fuck. . .” He murmured.

His head was pounding, most likely from all the wine he had consumed the night before. Aerys moved to the window, pushing open the wooden shutters. Down below, all he could see was the empty gardens. The sky was beginning to lighten, and the birds were starting to sing their songs. Though the cold chill of morning still hung heavily in the air. What in the seven hells was happening? Aerys scrunched his eyes closed. None of this was helping his headache. The man moved back over to the door, attempting to pull it open again.

“I demand to know what is happening! I demand an audience with the king!”

Once again, he received no response. Aerys continued to fiddle with the doorknob, but after minutes of no results, he stopped. The man pressed his head against the cold door. Why was this happening? He racked his brain, trying desperately to come up with an explanation. Surely, his grandsire would never allow this to happen. To be treated like some sort of prisoner in his family's house. Unless. . . His blood ran cold. Did he know? Had his grandsire found out what he had done? How he had disgraced himself, how he had defiled the prince.

Aegon.

Aerys' chest began to ache as the man came to his mind. How did everything go so wrong so quickly? It was him. There was no one Aerys could blame but himself. No, Aerys was as willing a participant as Aegon was. He could have left, but he didn’t. The man was weak and had given in to sin. He had allowed himself to give in to his lust and depravity. Therefore, he must take whatever punishment awaited him. Aerys knew his grandsire could be easily persuaded. It wouldn’t take much for him to convince his grandsire of his innocence, but Aerys would do no such thing.

He deserved to be punished. If what he had done were to get out, it would disgrace both of his houses. Aerys was disgusted with himself. No, he had to be punished. The man moved over to his wardrobe, quickly disposing of his simple black robe. He had to get ready. No doubt the king would send for him soon. The morning bells from the sept had begun to ring. Aerys could hear them in the distance. For a moment, he debated whether to pray to the gods for forgiveness or mercy, but he decided against it. He deserves neither of those things. The man had made his bed.

—

Aerys stared down at the ring on his finger. His eyes trailed over every inch of his mother’s enameled face. Would she hate him? Is she looking down on him in shame or disgust? It pained him to think of it. He was grateful she wasn’t around to see this. She deserved better than this pitiful excuse for a son.

The sound of the door unlocking caught his attention. He raised his head, quickly rising to his feet. Finally, he had been waiting for hours. The sky was so dark it almost looked black. Aerys clenched his hands into fists as he watched Queen Alicent enter the room. She stopped just a few feet away from him, her hands clasped together tightly.

Her eyes were slightly puffy and red, as though she had been crying not too long ago. The room was quiet, too quiet for Aerys’ liking. The queen avoided his eyes for a moment before clearing her throat. Aerys could feel his hands becoming clammy. He could feel his stomach tighten up, bile rising in his throat. Blood pounded in his ears. Fingernails dug into the palms of his hands as he struggled to breathe. Aerys clenched his jaw, ready for whatever she would throw at him.

“The king is dead.”

The man froze. He had not been prepared for this at all. Aerys furrowed his brows, scrunching his face in disbelief. No, this could not be. He thought they would have more time.

“How?”

“In his sleep, there was no pain.”

His eyes welled with tears. The man nodded his head in understanding, quickly blinking away his tears. Aerys dropped his head to stare at his boots. This was all so sudden. He had never imagined that last night would be the last time he saw his grandfather. His mind drifted towards Rhaenyra. How saddened she will be when she hears the news. They both knew it was coming, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The man shifted back and forth on his heels. His mind started to race, confusion and grief clouding his thoughts. The king had died peacefully in his sleep. So why would they have to lock him up in his bedchamber?

Aerys felt his heart stop. Suddenly, it was all becoming clear. The king was dead, and Rhaenyra was on Dragonstone. Far away from the throne. It would take a day or two for the news to reach her by raven. That would be all the time they needed.

He raised his head, eyes narrowing at the Queen. His hands clenched into fists once again.

“You’re usurping the throne.”

“It was the king's dying wish-”

Aerys scoffed, “I’m sure.”

“Believe me or not, it is of no consequence.”

Aerys hummed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“And tell me, who else was there to corroborate this claim?”

“No one.” She pursed her lips, fiddling with her fingernails.

Aerys chuckled dubiously. He turned away, leaving the queen to stare at the back of his head. His heart was racing, though with anger instead of fear or sadness this time. She’s lying. She had to be. Aerys would not believe for a second that his grandsire had wavered on his decision to name Rhaenyra his heir, especially on his deathbed with no other witness other than his wife, who has been vying for her son to be placed on the throne for years.

“Does Aegon know of this?” He asked, his voice shaking, afraid of the answer.

“That is not important.”

He could hear the woman shuffle her feet from behind him. Aerys sighed heavily, spinning around on his heel. Queen Alicent avoided his gaze for a moment. Her dark eyes trailed every corner of the room before meeting his own.

“Do you truly hate her so much?”

The woman stilled, her eyes widened at the question.

Her head tilted slightly to the side. “What?”

“Rhaenyra,” he clarified.

Tears began to fill her eyes, though she tried to blink them away. She shuffled back and forth on her feet, her hands clenched tightly.

“She told me the two of you used to be friends, close friends. You went everywhere together, did everything together, and shared your secrets. Now you’re stealing her throne and putting her to the sword.”

“I have no intentions of-”

“Of executing her?” A deep scowl covered his face. “Surely you cannot be that naive.”

“I intend to send peace terms-”

Aerys scoffed loudly, his anger rising inside his chest. “Peace terms.”

“If she agrees-”

“If she agrees, then what? Then, she and her children will be allowed to live in peace? If you intend to start a war, you should at least approach it with some pragmatism.” He spat, his words laced with venom.

“That is why I am here, Aerys.” The queen walked forward, taking the man’s hands into her own.

Aerys stiffened, and his lip curled in disgust. The queen ignored it, gripping his hands tightly.

“I came here to ask for your support. You are the only child of her sister, the princess Naerys. Rhaenyra has cared for you since you were a boy. She trusts you; she listens to you. I do not believe she would do anything to jeopardize your safety. Perhaps together, we could convince her to bend the knee.” She reasoned, with a pleading look in her eyes.

Aerys rolled his eyes, pulling his hands away and dropping them to his sides.

“So that’s what this is. You intend to use me as a hostage to keep her in line?!”

“I would like you to join our cause and accept Aegon as your king,” she sighed. “The two of you have always been close. Ever since you were boys, the two of you were inseparable. And I believe your. . . fondness for him has not lessened over the years. As I know, his has not lessened for you.”

Aerys felt his mouth run dry. The time has come. The time he had been dreading his entire life. Since he was old enough to understand the difference between a son and a daughter in this world, he would have to choose. The thought filled his stomach with dread. He could feel the bile beginning to rise in his throat. Surely, Aegon had not agreed to this. He had said it more times than Aerys could count. He had no wish to rule. He had no desire for the iron throne.

And Rhaenyra. Did they believe the woman would bend the knee? Of course not; that would be foolish. They would have no choice but to kill her before she could call her banners.

Aerys cared for Aegon. He truly did. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he loved him. More than he should have. But was that enough to make him betray the woman who had raised him? Even if, by some miracle, Rhaenyra was spared, her children would not be. There would be no way they would be able to coexist. War would ensue. If not now, perhaps in a few years, but it would happen. Of that, Aerys had no doubt. Aerys closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. He turned around, leaving the queen to face his back once again. His fist clenched together, nails digging into the palms of his hands.

The woman sighed deeply.

“If war ensues, many will die, Aerys. Please consider it.”

No more words were spoken as she finally took her leave. The door slammed shut behind her. Aerys listened as her footsteps receded from the room and the door locked shut behind her. The second she was gone, he ran to the table, emptying the contents of his stomach into a bowl until nothing was left. When he was done, the man let his body slump onto the wooden chair at the table. The aching pain in his head had returned, even stronger than before. His eyes trailed down to the ring on his finger. Tears he had been struggling to deny now slid down his face freely.

He didn’t want this; he didn’t want any of this. Aerys did not want to choose between the two people in the world who meant the most to him. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, before burying his face in his hands—a sorrowful attempt to drown out his sobs.

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