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fairysluna · 8 months

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"look what you do to me" with ye olde cregan I BEG

worthy of you.

Cregan thinks his little brother is not worthy of a woman like you, which is why he takes the opportunity to show you that he is the one for you.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader / (Side) Masc!OC x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — smut (f!oral sex, p in v, praise kink, loss of virginity), mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing, OC is a terrible man, older!cregan, widower!cregan, age gap (early 20s and early 30s). If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — first of all, a big thank you to my gorgeous @bucknastysbabe for being my beta reader and helping me edit this, ily!! i got a bit inspired by this plot and it's longer than i expected💀

Thank you Bel for sending this request because i loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy it!!🤍

WORD COUNT — 4.3k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

How cruel were the gods when they put you in his brother's arms instead of the ones you craved the most.

The first time that Lord Stark laid his eyes upon you, he felt the air leaving his lungs, and his voice being caged inside his throat. His eyes immediately widened at the beautiful sight of you, bewitched by the way you so politely greeted him, and mesmerized by the way you uttered his name. Cregan was in awe, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut and the quickened pace of his heart as he smelled the sweet scent of vanilla coming from your hair. He wondered if you were some kind of nymph, effortlessly enchanting him with a single glance.

After the loss of his wife, few were the women who managed to catch his eye. A couple of balls were made, and they all resulted in the same thing; a group of ladies following him around, showering him with shallow compliments and words that he did not wish to hear.

How lucky he felt when he saw you walking in with your father, Lord Reed, into the ballroom, and how miserable he left that night after learning you were betrothed to his young brother; Edrik, a careless young man who —according to Lord Stark— is not worthy of you. At all. He's ruthless, the opposite of a chivalrous man. Cregan knows that while you were waiting for him for dinner, he's fucking some whores in brothels and paying with gold that he would steal from Cregan's chambers. He despised him. He was ashamed of him, and his behaviour towards you. You were a lady, a delicate and sweet girl who could have found someone better.

Someone like himself, he would think.

At that moment, while you were nervously chewing your nails sitting at the small table of your chambers as you drank tea, Cregan was out there searching for his younger brother, and trying to force him back to the Winterfell castle. That very same day was supposed to be your wedding, and the groom was nowhere to be seen. You knew better than to cry, you didn't want to suffer for him anymore; so you just sat there, slowly tapping your fingertips against the delicate porcelain of the cup, staring at the crackling fireplace and thinking about something else.

At that point, you were just begging for him to be alive and well. Nothing more.

A few minutes passed when you saw Cregan entering your chambers with his grey eyes staring intensely at you as he walked inside. His heavy boots stumped against the wooden floor, prompting you to stand up a bit too quickly. You noticed the pitiful look in his eyes when he noticed you were still wearing that white wedding dress; his heart shattered for you.

“Did you find him?” you dared to speak first. Somehow, your voice came out colder than both of you expected.

“We did,” he nodded. “He was in a brothel… drunk and enjoying his last hours of freedom, as he said.” The annoyed tone of his voice was quite clear to hear as he spat every single word with rage and even shame.

Gods forgive him for this insurmountable wrath towards his kin.

“Where is he now?” The question slipped out of your lips merely out of habit.

“In his chambers, being bathed by one of the maids,” Cregan explained, unable to bear the vision of your tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. He sought to look at a place over your shoulder, just to ease the ache in his chest.

It wasn't sadness, not at all. It was ire; he knew it. It was supposed to be your special day, and your betrothed decided to ruin it, though you were not surprised.

“Is it the maid that sucks his cock every morning? Or is it the one that let him fuck her in the arse?” you mockingly mentioned, lifting the cup of tea and sipping it slowly. The knot in your throat was becoming unbearable, too tight and barely letting you utter a word.

Cregan's eyes softened with sorrow. “My lady,” he started, daring to take a step closer to you. The small rounded table was the only thing keeping you two apart. “Allow me to apologize for the misbehaviour of my brother, you deserve the utmost respect from whoever is lucky enough to marry you. Edrik is childish, and his actions often bring shame to our family name.”

“You shall not apologize for your brother's mistakes,” you softly said, sighing tiredly at this situation repeating over and over again. “You're an honourable man, Lord Stark, it's a pity your brother is not even half of the man you are.”

Cregan felt his heart tapping against his chest, even under those thick layers of fur, he was still able to hear how fast it was beating. His eyes briefly looked away from you out of shyness, feeling so flustered by your mere presence. Oh, gods, this was excruciating; seeing you there with your beautiful eyes staring up at him, looking so fragile and bewitching. The white dress fit you perfectly, you were radiant that night, and he cursed at his brother for looking down on you.

Edrik was a dumb boy. Luckily, Cregan was a wise man.

“It pains me to know he doesn't appreciate you,” he muttered as he took unhurried steps closer to you. “You deserve so much more.”

“It's the best I can get, I suppose,” you shrugged. “At least my betrothed is indulging his uncontrollable lust with whores instead of forcing himself on me. It could be worse.”

“But it's not supposed to be bad at all,” Cregan discussed. “A husband has to provide for his wife, and treat her with respect.”

His hand approached your left cheek and he placed it there, cupping your face. Your soft skin felt his calloused fingers and suddenly all the air of your lungs vanished. Your lips parted, and that simple gesture blurred Cregan's mind with the urge to devour them. As he looked down at you, you could see in his eyes that there was a rare sparkle in them. It was so mesmerizing.

“I guess you're asking too much from your brother, my Lord.”

He scoffed.

“If only the gods had been more merciful of us, you would be my wife instead,” he mentioned with a wistful tone. He took another step, and now you were able to smell the pine scent from his clothes. “We probably would be in our private celebration by now.”

You sighed delightedly as his thumb went to your lower lip, lightly touching it as he glanced at it. Falling in love with him had been so easy; he was so kind, so courteous and gentle. Whenever his brother was cruel and mean to you, he was always there to make you feel good. Many were the times you imagined this wedding being with him instead of Edrik.

“I would be looking at your beautiful body as you remove this gown. Only for me to see,” he whispered, his touch going downwards until he grabbed the pearls around your neck. “I would take my time to appreciate every single inch of your skin, touching you… kissing you, making sure you know you're the most beautiful maiden in Westeros.”

His face leaned towards you, and you felt his nose rubbing against your cheek as you closed your eyes. His deep, low voice sent shivers down your spine while your mind was imagining every single word that came out of his plump lips. His touch reached down your sides until you felt his strong grip on your waist.

Cregan took a deep breath as he smelled your sweet perfume; he couldn't help but sigh.

“I would pleasure you in so many ways,” he continued, his voice so raspy it made your knees weak. “With my mouth, my hands… until all that comes from your lips is my name.”

“Cregan…” you breathed out, and he hummed in delight.

“Yes, just like that.”

You dared to open your eyes, meeting his and seeing how they were dilated and glazed with lust; yours were probably in the same state. You were able to feel the heat between your legs, almost causing you to squirm to make you feel something. Something to sate the intense desire crawling around your body.

“I would do so many things to you, my darling,” he murmured. “Would you like me to do them?”

You nodded.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you replied, embarrassingly fast.

His hands went to your back, calloused fingers finding their way to untie your gown. Your chest was against his, and the closeness did nothing but increase your desperation to have him.

“My brother doesn't deserve you, does he? He is just a stupid boy, and you deserve a man.” You felt the dress loosening around your body and you swallowed hard at the expectation. “Please, let me be that man for you…”

You were unable to bear it any longer, the temptation being too much. You closed the distance between you two at the same time he started to slip the dress down your body — until it pooled around your feet. His lips fit perfectly against yours, they were slightly chapped due to the cold, yet they felt heavenly. He moaned against your mouth when you boldly deepened the kiss by grabbing Cregan’s nape and pulling him closer to you, all while his hands pressed your lower back.

It was slow and passionate, taking your breath away as he claimed your mouth with his tongue, swirling against yours and stealing soft whimpers from you. Soon, he grabbed your thighs to lift you and sat you on the table; the cup of tea spilling to stain your white undergown, you couldn't care less. His lips on yours were all you could think of as his hands gripped your body, pressing you against him.

The thin skirt of your undergown lifted as you wrapped your legs around Cregan’s waist, and his hands began to sneak under it to touch the soft skin of your thighs. He left a heat on your body with his fingertips, one that made you desperate to feel him. All while his mouth was reluctant to leave yours, obsessed with the sweet taste of you. He would unconsciously groan, and as he pressed his hips against yours you could easily notice the effect you had on him.

He pulled away to take a look at you, he found your swollen lips glistening with remains of your and his drool. Your eyes were sparkling as stars and your breathing growing agitated. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that Cregan Stark had fallen in love with you once again at that moment.

“You should belong to me instead,” he huskily said. “I should be the one who takes your body-”

“Do it,” you interrupted without doublethinking it. Your tone was decided and demanding, it shocked him a little.

“Oh, my little one…” he murmured with a strained voice as if the thought had left him breathless.

“I don't want your brother… I never did.” Your confession drew a small smile on his lips. “Since day one all I've wanted is you.”

He took a deep breath before cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Look what you do to me,” he murmured as you stared at his face, noticing a rare glow in him. “Believe me when I say your feelings are mutual… you've been on my mind ever since you arrived. It was torturous to see you being disregarded by Edrik while I was sitting there wishing I could just hold your hand. My heart, my body, my soul, it all aches for you. I'm desperate to feel you, and I cannot bear it any longer.”

The despair in his voice, so clear and vivid.

“Allow me to do it,” he pleaded, “I'm begging you to let me have a taste of you, at least for a night… so I can finally end this torment.”

“I will accept,” you managed to say in small gasps. “Only if you promise me this won't be the last time.”

He nodded. “I promise.”

The time was not wasted, you quickly leaned forward to kiss him again with the same intensity and need as before. Both of you moaned against each other while your hands were swiftly untying his snow-covered coat at the same time his were pulling down your undergown until it fell down your arms. Your breasts were freed and you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed; no man had seen you in such a vulnerable state before. However, all insecurities vanished from your overthinking mind once he laid his eyes on your chest and sighed, enamoured by the view.

He gave you a single glance at you to ask for your permission and, once you nodded, his fingers travelled down your body until they trapped your nipples. He gently squeezed them between his digits, soft enough to not cause you any discomfort but hard enough to make them peak. Your mouth was slightly parted, allowing silent gasps to fall down your lips as he admired your pure flesh. He leaned forward then, and you instinctively leaned back; before you noticed his tongue was lapping at one of your sensitive buds, swirling around it and nibbling on it from time to time. You held your body up with your forearms, closing your eyes once he sucked on it. A moan escaped you as he pulled apart from it and went to the other one, giving it the same attention.

His hand was grabbing the small of your back as you touched his hair, tangling your fingers in his brown locks and pulling them whenever his tongue made you feel butterflies in your belly. It was so good, and you were blissful thinking that you were doing it with him. Your ever-kind and loving Lord of Winterfell.

Suddenly, his mouth traced a path down your body, licking and kissing your belly until he reached your pelvis. You lifted your hips once his hands started to pull down your last vestiges of coverage, and in mere seconds you were completely exposed to him as your cheeks got warm once again.

Your legs were spread by his hands on your inner thighs, and Cregan was able to see the mess in your core; you were soaking, and his mouth watered with the urge to taste you. For a few seconds, he was just there admiring you, and then he started to kiss your legs from your ankles, all the way to your hips, shamelessly marking you and leaving red bruises behind; you loved it.

Cregan gave you a quick look, noticing how you were almost shaking with expectation; your eyes reluctant to leave his frame as his thumb spread your swollen lower lips and exposed that little, throbbing button begging for his attention. He stuck out his tongue, slowly brushing it against your clit. You almost died there. Your hand immediately went back to his hair, pulling it a bit too harshly for his liking.

“Sh…” he cooed, kissing your inner thighs in the meantime. “Come on, little one, let me make you feel good, I know you want it.”

Gods, you did. You need it.

“Keep your legs open for me, and let me have my feast,” he murmured before his tongue lapped on your pearl again.

The way he teased your flesh so sensually made your limbs shake. You were gasping as he licked and kissed every single part of you, lurking around and trying to discover your most sensitive spot. Once he found it, you saw stars.

Your betrothed was far from your mind when Cregan dared to push one of his long, thick fingers inside your weeping hole. You cried out his name as your legs shook around his head and, as he curled up his fingers to rub your walls, you felt a knot in your belly starting to form and begging to be released. Goosebumps erupted over your stimulated body.

“Gods… Cregan!” you found yourself whining. He hummed delighted with the way his name sounded from your lips.

His tongue fervently began to flick your clit as he added another finger, pumping them slowly but deeply. The sound of your juices coating his digits was becoming addictive; so sinful, yet heavenly. He was desperate to feel you all.

As he moaned and whimpered against your soaked flesh, you couldn't help but feel an unknown sensation in your gut; as if you were about to explode. Your heart was beating incredibly fast as you leaned your head back and let your mouth spill thousands of obscene sounds; Cregan's cock twitched in his pants the moment he looked up at you.

Gods, you were so fucking beautiful. It was not fair that you belonged to someone else.

Suddenly, with a shout of shock, you felt yourself peak. You gasped loudly and you clenched your eyes shut. Cregan felt your walls squeezing his fingers so deliciously as he drank from you and licked you clean. By the end of it, you were sweating, breathing fast and your hips twitching. You turned into a quivering mess.

Cregan lifted his face, giving one wolfish look before quickly grabbing your cheeks. He desperately kissed you as he groaned in ecstasy. You tasted yourself on his lips as he picked you up and took you towards the bed… the very same bed you were supposed to be sharing with your betrothed that night.

The guilt hit you, briefly making you feel dirty and sullied. But then, as you saw Cregan slowly removing his attires, you remembered who was your betrothed, and what he was doing earlier that day. If he could fuck a whore, why couldn't you fuck another man? You doubted the lesser brother would even notice.

Besides, it wasn't just a man, it was Cregan. Your Cregan.

So, now, as the handsome man in front of you removed his last piece of clothing, you felt your walls clench around nothing as you glanced at his cock. His head furiously red, already leaking and twitching as he started to crawl from the bottom of the bed until he was between your legs. He kissed you again, this time slower… more tenderly. You sighed against his lips.

“You're still a maiden,” he said as a statement rather than a question. You nodded, either way, confirming his words. “Then I'll go slow… though I must warn you, it might hurt for a bit, but I promise you, little one, it'll all be worth it in the end.”

“I trust you,” you whispered as your hand reached his cheek, gently caressing his stubble.

“Open your legs for me, my darling,” he commanded, and you did as he said. He looked down at your entrance, “seven hells…” he groaned at the sight, before spitting down to his cock and stroking it a few times. Cregan swiped the ruddy tip of his prick against your folds, teasing them to hear you moan one more time before carefully pressing the blunt head against your entrance.

You cried out once he started to stretch you out, feeling the slight burn that left you breathless as he made his way inside the tight hole between your trembling legs. You closed your eyes and opened your mouth; Cregan noticed your discomfort, so he brought his thumb to your clit, tracing slow circles on it and trying to make you relax. You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving through the pinch.

Your tightness would try to push him away as tried to go deeper, yet he found a way to keep going until he was fully buried inside of you, whimpering your name. Your soft walls felt so fucking good around him, almost making the man drool against your shoulder. His sweaty forehead was pressed against your cheek and you could hear his ragged breathing in your ear, causing chills down your spine. He gave you a moment to forget about the pain, all while he peppered your neck with soft kisses and gentle bites.

“I think I have just reached heaven,” he murmured, his voice sounding so deep and seductive. “So tight, so small around my cock…” he continued words that left his mouth before he could even think about them.

“I- I feel so full…” you muttered, feeling his length pulsing inside of you.

“Shh… I know, my darling, just take deep breaths for me,” he commanded you, and you obeyed. His thumb pushed slightly harder against your clit and you hummed. “Mhm, does that feel nice? My beautiful girl, you're doing such a good job for me,” he praised you, “taking me so well.”

“Feels good…” you nodded.

“It does, doesn't it?” he softly chuckled. “Gods, the way your sweet little pussy takes my cock makes me fucking crazy. Can- can I move? Fuck– Is it okay if I start moving?”

His gentleness and softness did little to make you forget about the way he spoke to you. His dirty words made you clench around his girth, feeling butterflies in your lower belly. You needed Cregan to move and bring back the effervescent heat.

“Please, do,” you begged, and he wasted no time in obeying.

His mouth dropped open as he dragged his cock out of your tightness, noticing how it was covered by your slickness. He pushed in again, filling you and causing you to moan in simultaneous discomfort and pleasure. His left hand went to your hip, grabbing your skin and going deeper inside of you. Slowly at first, he started to fasten his pace until the sound of your bodies colliding against each other was mixed with your moans.

Your hands wrapped around his shoulders as he hid his face on your neck, his harsh breathing causing chills on your skin as he moved slowly but forcefully; such a perfect pace to make you see stars. Your legs were bent at each side of his body, while he took you and claimed your shaky frame. Soon you realized that he had not lied, it felt magnificent once the pain started to fade away.

His name would escape your lips as if it was an endless chant, incentivizing him to keep going, to continue his movements until you couldn't bear it anymore. A layer of sweat would cover your body as Cregan's weight was on top of you, it felt as if you were burning yet you didn't want to push him away. You craved to feel his skin on you, loving the way his pelvis would brush against your throbbing clit each time he thrusts into you.

“Fuck, my darling,” he groaned in your ear, “your pussy was made for me to fuck,” he whimpered, biting your earlobe. You replied with a whine. “So fucking delicious, feeling so tight around my cock.”

Cregan lifted his face to look at your messy state. The eye contact that followed almost made you reach your peak once again, it was all so intense it made your head spin. Your nails dug into his flesh and he whispered your name; you hummed in response.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

He further quickened the pace, his cock now touching that sweet spot of yours. Your walls would clench around him as you felt the much-needed orgasm approaching. A ring of your juices appeared on his cock, and he changed positions so now he was on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking you faster, rougher.

He saw your breasts bouncing on your chest as he thrusted into you, the sight so arousing that he felt his cock twitch inside of you. His stones were full, ready to burst at any moment now. However, no matter how much he desired it, he knew he just couldn't release inside you. No risks must be taken if he wanted to do this again.

With your legs spreaded, his thumb effortlessly reached your exposed clits, flicking it and smearing your wetness around it. Your limbs shook as your mind went numb, and soon your orgasms washed over you. You cried out his name, tightening your grip around his cock.

That's when he pulled out and poured himself on your soaked flesh, staining your folds with his pearly seed.

Once he took a quick look at you, he felt a coil of raw pleasure snake around his body. A whine left his lips as he wrapped his hand around his length, stroking it a few times to make sure he would cover you with every single drop. He was overstimulated already; sweaty, breathless and flushed. He looked so beautiful like that.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, caressing your thighs.

You frown, slightly confused. “What- what for?”

Instead of answering you right away, he leaned and joined his lips with yours, gently and tenderly kissing you. His hands cupped your face and yours laid on his thick arms. A few minutes later, he pulled away only to leave soft kisses all over your face making you giggle.

“For giving me the honour of making you mine,” he replied. “Though I must confess that I don't think I will be able to live without having you in my bed every night.”

You felt a smile appearing on your lips and a familiar warmth on your cheeks.

“Well,” you sighed, “perhaps, you should do something about it.” That flirtatious tone was a bit odd coming from you, but Cregan loved it.

“Yes,” he nodded, softly chuckling as he leaned to kiss you once more. “I will definitely do something about it.”

@arcielee

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loaksbitch · 2 years

Text

the long awaited part two is here! — imagine neteyam is now suffering from his own actions, everything turning to a hell for him, he’s even distant to his family… and you? you’ve decide this is enough and feel like you don’t belong here so you tell neteyam you’re leaving the clan soon and neteyam feels like salt is added to his open wound when he hears about that.

warning – neteyam cries 2.0 (i’m evil, i know) angst angst angst! mention of y/n’s adoptive mom, nete kinda slips from his own body and loses control, nete stills cause oc with pet names :(, vulgar language, did i mention its angst? yeah maybe i did but again we have ANGST!! 3.1k wc.

“i can’t trust you” — neteyam sully (★,꩜)

part (one) – (three) — (four) of this series.

right after you left the love of your life, where you gave yourself to him, you couldn’t stop crying mess.

rage, confusion and pain blinding your eyes you didn’t care how the na’vi gave you glances every time you passed them without greetings given back.

you’re now in front of your mother’s shelter and swallow the lump on your throat not wanting her to see you like that. you push yourself inside and turn your face to the side so she won’t notice your puffy eyes.

“hi ma,” you greet her and her ears instantly perk up at your warm tone. “my sweet child, you cam– what’s wrong?” she knew you like no one did, you adoptive mother read you like a book.

when she finally asks what’s wrong you instantly breakdown in front of her, “mama.” you cry as the na’vi stumbles to you hurriedly, “what is it baby? what’s wrong?” she keeps wiping the tears that fall

this felt like the first time she found you lost in the woods, right after your biological mom abandoned you.

crying, scared and open.

“it hurts, make it stop ma, please make it stop.” your chest heaves up and down. your mother instantly knew something happened between you and neteyam, of course she’d know about the two of you.

“he…” you can’t even finish the sentence, “lied, he lied.” you struggled and your mother sighs

“oh my baby,” she pulls you for a hug and you hide your face into the crook of her neck crying again. no matter how she tighten her hold on your violently trembling body, she couldn’t stop the shattering feeling of your heart

you stood there hugged and vulnerable, seeking for comfort from your mother.

then there’s neteyam, who got to deal with the pain he created alone and secretly, he didn’t even get the chance to cry or comfort himself.

your words echoing in his drained mind, neteyam climbs back to his hammock. “i. hate. you.” those three words were enough to convince him you really do hate him. neteyam lied to you and you hated being lied, he knew everyone from your childhood lied to you

he knew it took you so much of sacrifice to give him a chance, he knew yet he destroyed you, he destroyed your heart. he can never forgive himself for that and he doesn’t want you to forgive him either.

neteyam chooses to suffer double than watch you break like that? he actually wishes you’d kill him right now but then again he deserves to live with this pain.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers as if you’re next to him and hearing him apologize. neteyam leans on the tree that’s helping the hammock stand in the middle of his room and slowly slides down to sit on the mat

“i’m so sorry, princess.” he knew you’ll never let him in again.

neteyam brings his legs to his chest and puts his arms on his knees before using them to lay his head. silent yet deep sobs left his lips as his chest tightened.

how was he supposed to live without you? without your skin against his? without your scent in him, without your smile to start his day… most importantly, without your love.

and now that neteyam have came to realize that, the perfect little solider has finally became defeated.

“i’m sorry.” he kept apologizing as he drifted to sleep, his beautiful face stained with tears.

and now five days passed, neteyam became distant with his family. no more breakfast eating with them, no more tuk and him moment, no more staying up all night with lo’ak and kiri to cause trouble.

no more in love with everything and colorful neteyam.

and his mother didn’t fail to notice him, notice how his behavior has changed. “something’s wrong with our son, ma jake, there’s something so wrong.” jake hums thinking neteyam is just getting more and more stronger and only practicing

“he’s just focusing on himself and training my love, you don’t have to worry.” jake says as he sharpens his weapons for the next war party

“no, you don’t understand” neytiri places her hand on jakes shoulder worriedly as their son kept himself inside his hammock, not wanting to interact with anyone of them. “he barely eats and drinks, barely plays with tuk she even started to ask for him.”

neytiri continued, “all he does is spend time on training, overworks himself and sneaks inside at midnight thinking i wouldn’t notice.”

jake frowns, this was new.

“neteyam started sneaking?” jake’s surprised tone makes netyiri sigh. he’s not taking things serious. “ma jake.” she warns when he tries to joke with a “neteyam’s finally being a spoiled brat huh?”

“okay okay, sorry but i’ll talk to him” jake cups his mates face and smiles, “maybe he’s having a hard time with being the future leader of the clan,” jake sighs “or maybe his new mate? he’s trying build some muscle, baby, don’t overthink it.”

neytiri only closes her eyes as they’re both sat in their hammock. “alright.” she voiced out.

right when jake was about to place a kiss on his wife’s lips, neteyam pulls the hanging fabric to the slide and walked straight to the front door. both his parents flinch at his sudden appearance.

“where you going, son?” both of them ask in unison making neteyam halt his steps.

“training and hunting.” he doesn’t turn to face them and neytiri insists. “you’ve been going out too much lately, nete’ don’t you think you need a break?”

“i’m fine mother.” with that being said, neteyam leaves the hammock while jake comforts his wife whose eyes tear up in worry.

neteyam didn’t fail to notice how his mother sounded worried and he hated that he caused that, but he doesn’t want them to figure out what’s wrong. he can’t risk your safety if they find out without you two communicating.

what if they hurt you? what will he do?

“look who’s finally out,” familiar voice sips to neteyam’s ears and neteyam closes his eyes, can they not just leave him alone? no, not really. lo’ak chuckles as he swings down the branch he was hanging on and jumps next to his brother

“where’re you going big bro?” lo’ak asks but gets ignored, “hey, you know i’m talking to you…”

“leave him skxawng, he’s in his emo arc.” kiri lets a sarcastic laugh out making the heartbroken man annoyed. “yeah? he’s seriously ignoring his one and only siblings” lo’ak keeps pushing his older brother

“can you guys leave? i want to be alone if you can’t see.” neteyam hisses under his breath but it falls to deaf ears. “damn bro, look at those growing muscles.” lo’ak turns to his sister and chuckles

“must be for his future mate, äyea.”

now lo’ak did a little bit of a mistake here, neteyam was now breathing through his nose, jaw clenched as he got his brother pinned to one of the trees. “i fucking told you to leave me alone, didn’t i? and don’t even dare to bring that name up here, again.”

lo’ak’s eyes are widened when his brother has him pinned to the tree, something dangerous flashes in his amber eyes and lo’ak lets a soft gasp out before being his hands up on air as a surrender.

“can you two stop? you guys are so immature.” kiri huffs out but neteyam only glares at his brother, “neteyam!” she calls out and once neteyam gains himself back, his eyes widens at the state. “shit, sorry.” his ears flatten, “i’m sorry lo’ak.”

both siblings take a glance at each other and lo’ak awkwardly chuckles. “it’s all good bro, you okay?” neteyam only nods before pushing himself out far away from everyone.

everywhere he goes, he kept hurting people and it’s destroying him.

once he was far enough from everyone he couldn’t help but allow himself to walk to the familiar place he finds comfort. the first place he saw you and got swept with love right away.

meanwhile neteyam was walking there you’ve actually managed to leave your hammock after days, well not managed but your mother was the one who threw you out to take some fresh air and communicate with eywa for a while

you couldn’t help but let you feet wander and take you to one of the places that are dear to you in pandora and your village. it was the shores that had glowing fish. the first time you met neteyam and you got your whole body woken up with butterflies.

you’re squat and twirling your hand in the edge of the ocean when you softly giggle as the glowing fish touches your hand with its soft fins. but that giggle didn’t live long when instant memories flood your mind.

“this one is honestly pretty.” you watch the glowing fish circle your feet that’s dipped in the ocean with your man next to you and you hear him hum agreeing but his eyes were only on you

“it really is.” he murmurs and when you notice it, you can’t help but realize your cheeks are heated up.

that was when you two shared your first kiss, of course it was a shy moment but on eywa you swore how good neteyam was, he was basically eating your face. “nete,” you’d sigh to his mouth when he leans and pressed his forehead against yours.

“it’s okay, it’s okay.” he would calm you by pulling you close to him as you’re both hanging your legs in the ocean. he would always place kisses on your skin every time you panic, thinking you’re doing something wrong

you missed that moment, you miss him but you can’t let those feelings win over and forget what he did.

you pull your hands out from the water, pushing those memories away and adjust your balance while you’re still squat and put your chin on your knees. “i miss him,” you speak and watch the fish wiggle around and smile, “you miss him too?” you ask it as if it would reply

you didn’t notice the subtle movement that’s made behind you in the woods as you talk to the animal you playfully adopted as your child with neteyam

neteyam in other hand freezes at his spot when he notice your familiar figure by the edge of the ocean. you’re silent before you let a soft giggle out and neteyam breathes out a laugh as he felt his eyes whelm

he really missed that sound of yours.

“i miss him,” your words catch his ears and his tail swings side to side like a dog. “you miss him too?” you ask as if you’re talking to someone and neteyam catches the fish you two jokingly adopted wiggling at your touch

his heart swells up with emotions.

you still haven’t noticed your used to be man watching you from the woods and sigh before deciding it’s time to leave, you need to distract yourself before you soon start to cry again

once you’re up on your feet, you turn around and your eyes catch the shadow of the tall figure with its tail moving. you let a loud scream out, startled and stumble on your feet only to trip and fall to the ocean.

“fuck!” neteyam curses when your eyes catch his and you’re instantly falling to the water.

“no, no, no!” neteyam was quick to run to you, you suddenly feel someone pull you and snoop you to their arms around your body before stomping out of the water to get you out of there

you’re confused and want to know who it is until a familiar scent helps you recognize who that was, you wanted to call his name out so badly but you just kept yourself silent until he got you to the sand.

once neteyam places you on your feet, you’re bombed with question about safety.

“did you get hurt? want me to carry you? baby, talk to me!” you don’t miss the pet name and don’t know know which to answer. “can you shut up?” you ask and he instantly obeys, “mhm.”

“i’m okay, thanks.” you’re curious to know what he was doing here.

“what’re you doing here?”

“what are you doing here?” he questiones back and your stomach drops. ‘because i miss you?’ you wanted to say but chose to stay silent and start to leave when neteyam suddenly grabs your hand. you’re stood there for a moment before you’re slowly turning to give him a deadly glare.

“what did i say about touching me?”

you’re so dominant it drives him insane, but neteyam heard you say you’re missing him and he has now some hope to relay that you still love him. “can we talk?” his voice is almost silent when he says that

“there’s nothing to talk about.” you dryly reply

neteyam nods and adjust the bow on him he brought for hunting, letting go of your wrist and you instantly miss the warmth but doesn’t show it. “i want to explain that–“

“you don’t need to explain yourself to me like you owe me something neteyam, it’s over for us.” you watch him battle himself from breaking down and swallows hard. you feel the atmosphere turn awkward.

“i heard you, y/n” you glance away from him feeling caught at stealing something. “you said you miss me.” his freckles are glowing and it makes you want to run your fingers on his skin where they exactly are.

“i do miss you” you’re honest and didn’t miss his little whimper when you say that. “but that doesn’t mean i’m not working on to get rid of those feelings.” your words hurt like a bullet being stuck in his chest and neteyam knew that feeling.

“you can’t say that,” he says, ears flattened and eyes hazed with hurt. “i can’t?” you sarcastically remark and scoff before trying to leave. “princes– y/n.” as much as him correctly himself from calling you his princess hurts you, again you manage to cover it up

neteyam feels his heart crack for the thousand times when you flinch away from his touch. “can you stop doing that?”you hiss and he knows you’re trying to protect yourself so bad, neteyam knows this is not you but the stupid shield you try to cover yourself with

“drop the act, y/n stop pushing me away.”

“you’ve a mate and i can’t do that to your future love so don’t touch me.” you’re using his actions against him to protect yourself. neteyam is annoyed now, he was to rip something apart or kill someone.

“look, i know i fucked up but that doesn’t mean…”

“yeah, it doesn’t mean anything, nothing matters.” you say and shut your eyes before taking a deep breath. his next words makes your brain rick in anger.

“can’t you just trust me?!” he dared to raise his voice at you. but in fact, neteyam was only raising his voice up to cover the quivering sound of his voice and stopping himself from crying in front of you

you take a step right to him and click your tongue.

“trust you?” you’re forcefully chuckling now. “i trusted you, neteyam, i trusted you so much but where did that lead me?” you’re poking his chest with your index and neteyam closes his eye before opening them and looking at you

you see something in him shift and realize he’s trying to make a progress.

“i can’t trust you…” you end up whispering the last part. “even if i want to, i just can’t.” you lean to him, dropping you forehead right to his chest and neteyam holds his breath. “i can’t, neteyam. i really can’t.”

as if he didn’t already hate himself more than this, he wishes he would just die at this point. you feel his hands grip your arms and pull you away from him a little far. one hand cups your cheek and he feels you lean to him for warmth.

there, right there was his y/n he knows.

“please,” he’s now begging. “let me make it right.”

you only lean to him to take his warmth one last time before opening your eyes and sighing. “nete’” you watch his breath hitch. “call me that again, please call me that again.”

“nete, i’m leaving.”

neteyam’s body freezes against you, “what?” is the only word he was able to let out. “what do you mean you’re leaving.” it wasn’t even a question, “me and my mom have decided and knows this place isn’t for us.”

you’ve been trying to let him know but you couldn’t until now and you take this opportunity to be close to him for the last time. “i don’t fit here, i’ve to leave.”

“what a..abo…about me?” he was now hyperventilating when he realize why you’ve accepted his touch on your body right now. “you’ve her, you’ve äyea.”

“don’t say that! please don’t say that– i’ve no one except you.” you’re trying to control the tears but neteyam was only making it hard. “neteyam.” your voice is quivering and neteyam shakes his head in denial

“no, don’t you care about me? no! NO!” he’s now holding your arms tight. “neteyam, please don’t make this hard.” you beg as tears start to roll down your pretty skin. “i have to leave!” you yell and neteyam instantly lets you go

he knew he deserved pain but not this one, neteyam didn’t want this he’ll never want this.

“when?” he’s now staring at you numbly. “huh?” you ask confused. “when’re you leaving?” you gulp and think before speaking.

“after your mating ritual, i’ll leave that night after yours and hers…” you stop when he shuts his eyes and blocks your words out. “i’ve to go, i can’t live like this! i don’t want to get hurt anymore.”

neteyam was nodding, stepping back from you. you feel guilty for just dropping it at him like that.

“so you’re saying if i haven’t caught you here i would never know and you would leave me?”

“i’m not leaving you, neteyam, you have äyea.” your words makes him snap.

“I DON’T WANT ÄYEA?!”

“don’t you dare yell at me for protecting myself.” you say and neteyam sniffs angrily. “you know what, i shouldn’t have told to you anything.” you suddenly push past him and walk fast.

neteyam clenches his jaw in anger and pain, no it won’t end like this. he won’t easily let you go like that, never.

enough is enough and nothing will easily end here.

guys it’s 3.1k and i had to stop there yeah? i feel like i might make part 3 and 4 but fr tho should i make it happy ending or sad ending? or maybe alternative ending— i love each and everyone of you sm! mwah!

taglist 𖤘 @eywas-heir @evanpetersluver @ayathehater @redbloond @brooklynscherry-z @spideyluves @littlethingsinlife @arminsgfloll @thesheelfsworld @traveleraroundsworld @giftfromthemoon @emarold @ilovehotdilfsz @kristalposts @raventommy @scryarchives @senpaitanakiuwu @willoswildworld @voniikg @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @dearmikewheeler @mcqsx @eitaababe @hafutoru @hestiasalvtore @trhaenyra @23victoria @littlerizzler @ripneteyam @scarletrosesposts @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @omgily (others will be tags if i make part 3)

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goddessofvalyria · 1 month

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OBSESSION | Aemond Targaryen x fem!oc

Summary: Alysanne Velaryon is Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin Strong's daughter, like her brothers she have brown hair and purple eyes. Aemond Targaryen, hate the princess calling her "bastard". He hate Alysanne so much that in fact, he's secretly obsessing over her. The beauty of princess Alysanne is un matched, she is smart and fierce, certainly not a regular princess.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, the fem!oc is named Alysanne Velaryon with brown hair and purple eyes (she is Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin Strong's daughter), oral (f receiving), fingering, SMUT, sexual tension, sex, sex, sex, Aemond hating bastards but then obsessing over his niece, targcest (he is the uncle, she is the niece).

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 4285

Princess Alysanne Velaryon, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Harwin Strong, is a striking figure in the court, with her brown hair—a notable trait from her Strong lineage—framing her face, and her vivid purple eyes—a mark of her Targaryen heritage—captivating everyone around her. She stands out not only for her unmatched beauty but also for her intelligence and fierce spirit, qualities that set her apart from the typical princess.

Despite her strength and grace, Alysanne faces constant scorn from Aemond Targaryen, who is relentless in his derision, labeling her a "bastard." His uncle outward hostility, however, masks a darker truth: Aemond is secretly obsessed with his niece. His fixation on her beauty and strength consumes him, leading to a twisted form of hatred fueled by unacknowledged desire. While Alysanne remains steadfast, refusing to let Aemond's venomous words affect her, his obsession only grows, creating a dangerous undercurrent in the court's already tense atmosphere.

The tension between Aemond Targaryen and Princess Alysanne Velaryon reaches a boiling point in the grand hall of the Red Keep. Aemond, with his one good eye gleaming with malice, sneers at Alysanne as they cross paths. His voice drips with venom as he spits out, "You truly think yourself a princess, don't you? But you're nothing more than a bastard, like your brothers. A stain on the Targaryen name."

Alysanne, with her chin held high, refuses to let the insult slide. Her purple eyes blaze with fury as she steps closer to Aemond. The court falls silent, all eyes on the two. "Say that again," she challenges, her voice low and dangerous.

Aemond, ever the provocateur, leans in, a smirk playing on his lips. "Bastard" he repeats, almost as if daring her.

Without a second thought, Alysanne's hand flies up, striking Aemond hard across the face. The sound of the slap echoes through the hall, leaving the onlookers in stunned silence. Aemond's head snaps to the side, his cheek stinging from the blow. He turns back to her, his only eye dark with a mix of rage and something deeper, something more twisted.

But Alysanne doesn't flinch. She stands her ground, her gaze unwavering as she meets Aemond's glare. "I will not be disrespected by the likes of you," she declares, her voice ringing with authority. “Pathetic cripple.”

Aemond’s hand twitches, as if he’s contemplating retaliation, but instead, he simply narrows his eye, his jaw clenched. The obsession within him simmers, a dark seed planted even deeper by her defiance.

Alysanne, having made her point, turns on her heel and walks away, leaving Aemond standing there, both humiliated and captivated by the fierce princess who dared to strike a Targaryen.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆。˚

Late at night, the Red Keep is shrouded in an eerie silence, its halls dimly lit by flickering torches. Princess Alysanne Velaryon, having spent hours lost in the pages of ancient tomes, finally leaves the library with a stack of books cradled in her arms. The quiet is comforting, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere of the court during the day.

As she makes her way through the winding corridors, Alysanne can't shake the feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle with unease, and her pace quickens instinctively. She glances over her shoulder, and that's when she sees him—Aemond Targaryen, trailing her silently through the shadows.

Alysanne’s heart pounds in her chest, fear creeping up her spine, but she refuses to let it control her. She grips the books tighter, her knuckles white, as she hurries toward the safety of her chambers. The echo of Aemond’s footsteps follows her, deliberate and slow, almost as if he's savoring her fear.

Finally, she reaches her chambers, her breath ragged as she pushes the heavy door open. She steps inside, the door creaking shut behind her. She fumbles with the lock, her hands trembling slightly, and with a relieved sigh, she finally turns the key, securing herself inside.

But when she turns around, her relief turns to horror. Aemond is already there, standing just a few feet away from her. His presence is menacing, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. He leans casually against the wall, a sadistic smile curling his lips as his one good eye fixes on her.

"Did you think you could escape me, bastard?" Aemond's voice is a low murmur, dripping with a twisted satisfaction. He takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "You’re not as clever as you think."

Alysanne's fear is palpable, but she stands her ground, refusing to cower. "What do you want from me, uncle?" she demands, her voice steady despite the terror gnawing at her insides.

Aemond’s smile widens, a dangerous glint in his eye. "To remind you of your place" he whispers, his voice almost gentle, but with a darkness that sends a shiver down her spine.

Alysanne doesn't back away, though every instinct tells her to run. "My place is not for you to decide," she retorts, her voice laced with defiance. She may be scared, but she will not be intimidated.

The tension between them is thick, the air heavy with unspoken threats and desires. Aemond's smile fades slightly as he realizes she won’t break easily. He takes one last lingering look at her before turning on his heel and leaving her chambers, the door closing softly behind him.

Alysanne is left standing alone, the fear slowly ebbing away, replaced by a resolve as strong as steel. She knows this isn’t the last time Aemond will try to frighten her, but she is determined not to let him win.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆。˚

Over the following days, Aemond Targaryen's obsession with his niece, Alysanne Velaryon, deepens. He watches her from the shadows, his gaze never straying far from her. Whether in the halls of the Red Keep, during meals, or even in the quiet moments she steals in the gardens, Aemond is always there, lurking just out of sight. His presence is a constant weight, pressing down on her, though he never approaches—until the fifth night.

Alysanne, seeking solace in the library once again, retreats to her usual spot among the dusty shelves. The flickering candlelight casts long, dancing shadows across the room as she immerses herself in her books, trying to lose herself in their words and escape the unsettling feeling that has haunted her for days. But tonight, she is not alone.

Aemond slips into the library silently, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound barely registers in the quiet of the room, but when Alysanne glances up, her heart skips a beat. There he is, his figure illuminated by the dim light, his expression unreadable. She rises from her seat, her instincts screaming at her to leave, but before she can move, Aemond strides forward and turns the key in the lock, trapping them both inside.

"Aemond, what are you doing?" Alysanne demands, trying to keep her voice steady. Her pulse races as she watches him approach, a dangerous intensity in his eyes.

"We need to talk, niece" Aemond replies, his voice calm, but with an undercurrent of something darker. He moves closer, and Alysanne takes a step back, her back brushing against the table behind her. "I'm tired of watching you from afar."

"I have nothing to say to you" Alysanne snaps, her fear giving way to anger. "Unlock the door, Aemond."

But Aemond shakes his head, his gaze locking onto hers. "No" he says firmly. "Not until you listen."

Alysanne's frustration flares. "You think you can intimidate me? I won't be bullied by you, Aemond. I am not yours to control."

Her defiance only seems to fuel him. His lips curl into a smirk as he steps even closer, his presence overwhelming. "You always were stubborn" he murmurs, his voice low and filled with a twisted admiration. "But I think we both know this isn't just about control."

Before Alysanne can respond, Aemond closes the distance between them in a single, swift movement. "Did they tell you that you are beautiful, bastard?" he take a lock of her brown hair in his hands. "You should have no rights, because you are not a true Targaryen or a true Velaryon" he teases her. "And you? You let my little brother put out your eye, you are not capable of defend youself, Aemond. Pathetic weak cripple"

"How do you called me; princess Strong?" he try to humiliate her. "Cripple" she repeats brave. "It's time that the cripple shows you, how to a bastard shall be treat"

His hand reaches out, gripping her chin, and before she can push him away, he crushes his lips against hers in a rough, possessive kiss.

Alysanne’s body tenses, her mind reeling as she struggles to comprehend what’s happening. The kiss is forceful, filled with a desperate intensity that borders on violence. She tries to push him away, her hands pressing against his chest, but Aemond's grip only tightens as he pulls her closer.

For a moment, Alysanne is overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions—fear, anger, and something else she can't quite place. But then, with a surge of strength, she shoves Aemond away, breaking the kiss. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she wipes her lips.

After the kiss, Aemond grabs her neck with his left hand and turns her over with his other left hand. Her back against his chest, her forehead resting on the shelves of the library.

"Bastards..." he whispers. "They do not deserve a place at court, they should all be killed." He grabs her by the hair. "They stain the blood of the noble houses." Aemond breathes in the perfume in her hair, Alysanne's breathing is heavy. The one-eyed prince looks down on her, she does not tremble, she is not afraid. In a moment of weakness, Alysanne turns and grabs Aemond by the jacket, slamming him against the other shelf containing the books.

"Call me a bastard one more time and I swear to the gods that I will gouge out your other eye and make you blind, Aemond Targaryen" her voice is furious, the princess pulls the dagger from the prince's belt and points it at his chest. "You understand me or maybe I should repeat myself" Aemond looks at her, seeing her so furious and with all her attentions directed towards him... in a way, it excites him.

The little bastard he has always mocked, has eyes only for him. The same princess that the Lords talk about for her priceless beauty and courage, defined as the most beautiful of all by the Red Keep has eyes only for her uncle. "Watch your words, Alysanne" he tries to take away her weapon from her hands.

Aemond’s rough kiss catches Alysanne off guard, and for a split second, she’s frozen, her mind struggling to process the sudden, intense assault of emotions. But as his grip tightens around her, instinct kicks in, and she tries to push him away. However, Aemond is relentless.

With a determined strength, he lifts her off her feet as if she weighs nothing, and in one swift motion, he sets her down on the table behind her. The ancient wood creaks under her weight, the books she had been reading scattering to the floor as she lands. Alysanne’s heart races, a mix of fear, fury, and confusion swirling inside her.

"Aemond, uncle!" she cries out, her voice a mixture of anger and desperation. She struggles against him, her hands pressing against his chest, but Aemond's hold on her is firm, his expression one of grim determination.

He hovers over her, his breath ragged, eyes dark with a mix of emotions that she can’t fully read—obsession, anger, and something far more dangerous. "Why do you resist me?" he hisses, his voice low and intense. "You know there's more between us than just blood."

Alysanne’s purple eyes blaze with defiance as she glares up at him. "This isn’t right, Aemond" she snaps, her voice laced with fury.

Aemond's grip on her softens slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. His face inches closer to hers, his gaze locked on her eyes, searching for something—understanding, perhaps, or maybe submission. But Alysanne refuses to give in, her will as strong as ever despite the fear gripping her heart

His lips brush against hers again, this time slower, as if testing the waters, but Alysanne turns her face away, her breathing heavy with both anger and fear. "Let me go" she demands, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain strong.

Aemond pauses, his breath hot against her skin, and for a moment, it seems as though he might relent. But then, with a frustrated growl, he pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on either side of her on the table, caging her in.

"Why do you fight me, Alysanne?" he whispers, his voice almost pleading now, but with an edge of anger that hasn’t quite disappeared. "I see the way you look at me. I know there's something there."

Alysanne meets his gaze, her purple eyes blazing with defiance. "You don't know me at all, uncle" she retorts, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "What you see is your own twisted obsession, nothing more."

Aemond’s expression hardens, the brief vulnerability in his eyes replaced by a cold resolve. He steps back, finally releasing her, but the tension between them remains thick and suffocating. "You can tell yourself that all you want," he says quietly, his tone dangerous. "But this isn't over, Alysanne. Not by a long shot."

Alysanne Velaryon, shaken but resolute, watches as Aemond steps back from her. As she catches her breath, a new thought crosses her mind. She realizes that if she is to maintain control over this dangerous game Aemond has begun, she might need to play it his way—at least for now.

Alysanne's expression shifts, her defiance morphing into something more calculated. She knows Aemond thrives on control, on seeing her struggle, but what if she took that satisfaction away from him? What if she turned the tables?

Slowly, she lets her lips curl into a small, almost teasing smile. "You’re right, Aemond" she says softly, her voice laced with a sultry undertone that surprises even herself. "This isn’t over. But perhaps it doesn’t have to be a battle."

Aemond, who had begun to turn away, freezes. He turns back to her, his expression wary, yet intrigued. "What are you playing at, Alysanne?" he asks, his voice suspicious but laced with curiosity.

Alysanne slides off the table, her movements graceful and deliberate. She takes a step closer to him, her eyes locked onto his. "Maybe you’ve been looking at this all wrong," she murmurs, her voice a soft purr. "You think you know me, think you can break me—but what if I’ve been playing you all along?"

Aemond’s eye narrows as he studies her, trying to gauge whether she’s bluffing or if there’s truth in her words. Alysanne can see the doubt flicker in his gaze, but she presses on, leaning in slightly, just enough to unsettle him.

"You’ve been watching me for days, haven’t you?" she continues, her tone now almost mocking. "Obsessing over what you can’t have. But did you ever stop to wonder if I was letting you watch? If I wanted you to?"

Aemond’s jaw tightens, and Alysanne knows she’s hit a nerve. The power dynamic between them shifts subtly as she sees the uncertainty in his eyes.

She moves even closer, until they’re almost touching, her breath warm against his skin. "Perhaps I’ve been playing with you, letting you think you had the upper hand," she whispers, her voice dripping with provocation. "But what if it’s you who’s been caught in my web, Aemond? What if you’re the one who’s been ensnared by me?"

Aemond’s gaze darkens, a mix of anger, desire, and confusion swirling within him. He’s torn between wanting to assert his dominance and the unsettling realization that Alysanne might be more cunning than he gave her credit for.

"You think you can play with me?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I’m some pawn in your little game?"

Alysanne shrugs lightly, her smile never wavering. "Maybe I am. Or maybe we’re both pawns in a game neither of us fully understands. But isn’t that what makes it interesting?"

She watches as Aemond’s anger simmers beneath the surface, but she can also see the effect her words are having on him. His obsession with her is undeniable, and now she’s made him question everything. It’s a dangerous gamble, but one she’s willing to take.

Aemond steps closer, his face inches from hers, and for a moment, the tension between them crackles with electricity. "You’re playing with fire, Alysanne" he warns, his voice a rough whisper. "And you might just get burned."

Alysanne tilts her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with defiance. "Perhaps. But aren’t you curious to see how it plays out?"

For a long moment, they stand there, locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down. Then, without warning, Aemond captures her lips in another rough, passionate kiss, but this time Alysanne doesn’t resist. Instead, she responds with equal fervor, her hands gripping his tunic as she pulls him closer.

The kiss is fierce, filled with the heat of their mutual defiance and the undercurrents of a twisted desire neither of them fully understands. Alysanne knows she’s walking a dangerous line, but she’s determined to show Aemond that she won’t be intimidated, that she can play this game just as well as he can.

When they finally break apart, both of them are breathless, their faces flushed with a mix of anger and something more primal. Alysanne’s smile is still there, though now it’s edged with a challenge.

"You see, Aemond" she says softly, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "You’re not the only one who knows how to play the game."

Aemond stares at her, his expression unreadable, but Alysanne can see the conflict in his eyes. He’s captivated by her, even if he won’t admit it. And for the first time, Alysanne feels a sliver of control in their twisted, dangerous dance.

Aemond looks at her, kisses her again ferociously, Alysanne kisses him back and the prince grabs the laces of her dress on the back, begins to undress her voraciously and she reciprocates with the same ferocity. He throws the dress to the floor, leaving her in her slip dress. In his eyes the princess is beautiful, her body is like a magnet. Alysanne looks at him pleased, brings her hands to his chest unbuttoning his jacket.

"Uncle, if you wanted to fuck me you had only to ask" she replies resolutely. "I am here, your favorite bastard" she provokes him, his jacket falls to the floor and Alysanne bites her lower lip when her uncle takes off his shirt. He has a hard, toned chest, well-defined muscles and his v-line falls markedly to the edge of his trousers. His arms are muscular, his skin smooth.

"Because I really want to get fucked by you, uncle" she teases him, her hands go down her slip dress and she is naked and exposed to him.

Sitting on the table, her body framed by her long brown hair. "Mh?" she looks at him, grabs him by the waistband of his pants, unrestrained by Aemond's masculinity, and pulls him closer. "Now I understand your obsession with me, uncle"

Alysanne slips a hand into his pants, caresses his hard, ready cock. "Do you hate bastards, or do they turn you on, uncle?" she teases him, but Aemond grabs her by the neck and makes her lie down on the table. "I'm just showing you how your kind should be treated, niece."

Alysanne leans in to kiss him and at the same time, Aemond slides two fingers between her thighs, invading her. "Uncle" she whispers, gripping the table with her hands. "Oh Gods!" she moans as she feels Aemond's fingers push inside her, deeper and deeper into her moist, wet folds. "I won't give you what you want, you'll have to suffer for it" he teases, circling her clit with his thumb and moving it slowly.

She's so hot, wet, tight. He wants to cum inside her, but she won't let him win. Aemond kneels in front of the table, spreads her legs and casually slides his tongue inside her and grabs her hips to hold you down. Alysane's body moves almost automatically, as if you're no longer in control. Aemond knew it wouldn't last long, she was so sensitive and he was sure his dear niece was fighting against reason and pleasure, feeling balanced between them. The princess moans her uncle's name, his hands threading through her hair and just when she's about to come, Aemond stands up leaving her unsatisfied and denying her orgasm.

Standing in front of her, pathetically aroused, he kisses her on the lips once more. "Your taste is divine, bastard" he taunts her, Alysanne grabs him with her legs pulling him closer. Aemond pulls down his pants, grabs his cock by the base, letting his tip rub against her folds. "You're pathetic, niece" he whispers smearing his precum on her womanhood. "You want to be fucked without any morals" he continues, she's so aroused that she's dripping from her folds, she just wants to have her uncle inside her.

"It's the first time" she whispers almost vulnerable. “I didn’t think we’d go this far, uncle” she continues, looking up at him. Aemond smiles devilishly. “You’re ready” he reassures her. “But you should see how fucking wet you are for me, for your prince” a smirk forms on his face. “Uncle,” Alysanne whispers, feeling his length rub against her clit. “Ruin me” she orders, Aemond slides in, letting out a loud moan as he does so, slowly burying his cock inside her, until he can feel your cervix with his tip.

Alysanne moans, the pleasure slowly consuming her and he’s so fucking big and invasive. Aemond buried inside her can’t hold back any longer and starts to push into her, he looks down at where they join and sees his shaft stained with her blood. He feels victorious, he’s managed to silence her. Alysanne moans and squeezes her breast with her hand, Aemond lowers himself on her and while he continues to fuck her he takes her nipple between his lips. They both don't give a damn if anyone hears them, in fact Alysanne herself is excited just thinking about it. The sounds of their moans and their skin rubbing together break her into a thousand pieces. Aemond pushes inside her fiercely, he hears her panting and calling his name. He grabs her waist as if to hold her still, the few books and scrolls on the table fall to the floor and Alysanne feels close to her first orgasm.

"Uncle" she moans, Aemond feels her tighten around his cock, her legs are shaking, her body is sweaty. Alysanne looks at him, both lost in pleasure, Aemond finds himself giving her the last thrusts. They come together, Alysanne explodes around him, Aemond fills her with his seed, making it drip out of her folds.

"Niece, my little bastard" he whispers kissing her on the lips, the princess responds to the kiss and with her leg holds him still inside her. "I think I like you uncle" she says provocatively. "Or rather, the way you fuck me" Aemond still inside her, lying on her body he feels at peace.

"Uncle" she murmurs calling him.

"If I were promised to you, would you marry me?" the princess asks. "I want you to answer" she orders. Aemond's thoughts are confused: she is a bastard, she has Strong blood in her veins... and yet that body has driven him mad. "Why do you ask me, niece?" Aemond asks. "I heard my mother talking to the king about it" Alysanne replies. "I think she'll make it official tomorrow," she whispers again.

Aemond pulls away from her and she groans, feeling empty. "Start getting used to me" he warns her, taking her hands and helping her sit on the table. "It looks like you're going to be my wife, my dear niece" a smirk spreads across his face.

Aemond, in Alysanne's eyes... is truly a singular man and that's what makes him beautiful. "I'm sorry I called you a cripple," he whispers. "You'll have a reason to apologize, my niece," he moves closer to her, placing himself between her legs.

"We've fucked and you're surely pregnant" he whispers against her lips. "You'll give me a son or a daughter" he continues, starting the kiss. "And you'll fuck me and give me more," she opens her lips, deepening the kiss and matching his freaks.

"I think I want to marry you, uncle," she teases. "I think you have no choice, niece." Aemond grabs her by the neck gently.

"Truce?" Alysanne whispers in a question. "Truce" Aemond answer.

"I saw your game, uncle" she whispers. "And I think I've won," she murmurs against his lips.

"Your obsession has consumed you and now... look at you: completely obsessed by me and my body, Gods, how pathetic you are..." she smirks. "Look at us."

Around them, the table and the floor beneath were such a mess.

"I provoked you to do exactly that, uncle," she murmurs coaxingly. "You are the only one who would go this far for me" she wraps her arms around his neck.

"And now you are mine" she smiles against his lips, kissing him possessively.

Aemond kisses her back, gripping her thighs and sliding into her once more.

The princess is his.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemondtargaryenedit #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #house targaryen #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x female reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen smut #smut #dance of the dragons #house of the dragons #aemond targaryen #aemond kinslayer #princess #velaryon reader #velaryon oc

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sytoran · 6 months

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home is where the heart is ★ profile

IN WHICH your married life with Natasha Romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. With your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (And ultimately, very horny.)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

Y/N L/N (the beefcake)

YOU are known as 'mama' to the kids, and 'daddy' to natasha. would literally lay your life down for your kids and wife. raging butch, gym rat, handiman around the house, occasionally helping with cooking and cleaning as well. you're also the CEO of L/N-Corp worldwide media, with a degree in being husband material. you like it when natasha calls you handsome, a service top to the end of time. but at the end of the day, you're just ken, hopelessly in love with your wife and worshipping the very ground she walks on.

NATASHA ROMANOFF (the milf)

NATASHA is known as 'mommy' to the kids and you. epitome of housewife milf, with her clean fashion and reading glasses and soft tummy you never fail to squish. she's the stricter parent, with a firm but patient parenting style. as much as she can resist the kids' puppy dog eyes, she always falls for yours. down bad for your beefiness. peak wife material - she's teaching the kids the piano, the food she cooks is literally orgasmic. your darling angel pillow princess. she's the barbie to your ken, the black cat to your golden retriever, the only one for you till the end of time.

MARINA (the peacemaker)

MARINA is your oldest daughter, ten years of age but wise beyond her years. her name is of russian descent, meaning "of the sea". marina is a quiet kid, more calm and laid-back like natasha. you think your daughter is a secret genius, as she's topped her class since first grade, and has an amazing affinity for languages and the arts. the first time you read one of her poems, you started crying. (it was titled 'the sun' and was about how much she adored you, for the record.) marina is such a responsible big sister, though she sometimes struggles with the lack of attention she gets because of her younger siblings.

EMILIA AND EMILIO (the troublemakers)

EMILIA is the older twin, five years-old and ready to rock the world. her name is also of russian origin and means 'eager'. she's more tomboyish than her older sister, disliking dresses and being weirdly obsessed with checkered bermudas. she's a little unorganised, but emilio keeps her in check. they balance each other out, after all. emilia is completely selfless and entirely loveable, just this shining bundle of joy in your life. she loves football too! you play it with her and emilio on the weekends.

EMILIO is the younger twin by fourteen minutes (which his older sister never fails to tease him about). they share the same name meaning, which is rather fitting. this five year-old is loud, unapologetic, and aspires to be a dinosaur. he really likes pterodactyls, okay? he's a mommy's boy, always curled up in natasha's arms when he's not busy exploring the world. his fated enemy is mathematics, so you have to fight world wars in order to get him to do his addition and subtraction. just a cheeky little guy who thinks the world of his sisters and moms.

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

first time making actual ocs with names and stuff! what are your thoughts on this lively family....

#⋆⭒˚｡★ home is where the heart is #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you #top reader #dom reader #sub natasha romanoff #bottom natasha romanoff #marvel x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut

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twst-darling · 1 year

Text

˗ˏˋSomewhere in the Sands of Timeˎˊ˗

Pairing: (General) Lilia Vanrouge x Fem!Reader [or Fem!OC]

Summary: The spell to send you home backfires, and you land the past where you encounter one General Vanrouge.

CW: Smut [porn with very little plot, vaginal fingering, blow jobs/skull fucking, facials, degradation, snowballing, hate fucking?, spit, rough sex, use of words like whore, slight dub-con (but the reader is into it)], Language, Violence [threats of violence, threats of murder], 1st Person Point of View, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Tall!Lilia

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I initially wrote this with my OC in mind. However, it is vague enough that it can be read as a reader insert. Song title is taken from Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Having a sword held against my throat wasn’t on my bingo card for ‘Strange Happenings in Twisted Wonderland.’ Then again, neither was a very tall, very angry Lilia Vanrouge. His hair cascaded down his back like an inky black waterfall. Rage simmered beneath his vermilion irises—a bizarre sight, given how friendly they usually were—and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would behead me, given the opportunity.

This Lilia is not my Lilia. Not yet, anyway.

This Lilia has fire in his blood and brimstone for bones. I can feel his heat radiating through the tough leather armor that covers his body. He bares his fangs, crimson eyes sharp and unyielding. Long gone is the cute upperclassman I’d come to know.

The whole thing is rather fuzzy. One second, I was walking through a portal that was supposed to take me home. The next? I’m sprawled on the ground with a gleaming blade made of gemstones and magic thrust against my jugular.

I can barely breathe with how Lilia’s knees dig into my ribs. It’s intentional. And though I know I shouldn’t waste my breath, I can’t help but whimper. My hands lay unbound by my head, but I dare not move them. Not even an inch.

“Your boldness is admirable, yet foolish, mortal scum. Sneaking into fae territory shall wreak nothing but the most exquisite suffering.”

“I-I didn't—”

Lilia presses forward, practically crushing my lungs. “I didn’t say you could speak.”

The edge of his sword—cleaver?—cuts into my neck, and I yelp. “Lilia, please don’t do this, we’re friends!”

“Lies!” he hisses. “You cannot sway my mind, mortal, with your feeble magic. I hold no familiarity for you, nor shall I ever.” His lip curls, nose wrinkling as if smelling something foul. “I will take great pleasure in crushing the bones in your body until they are dust to be scattered by the wind. It seems only fitting for a human spy who has made it so far behind our barricade.”

Oh, Sevens, he was serious.

“Wait, wait, wait, please—!”

“Begging won’t save your life, worm.”

“Let me explain—”

“You tiresome, incompetent creature, I demand you cease this incessant—”

“—I’m from the future!”

It shouldn’t have worked, but my frantic cry made him hesitate. Maybe it was my clothes—the uniform skirt I had sewn looked out of place compared to Lilia’s armor—or my hair. Or maybe, just maybe, Lilia sensed something was off about my arrival the whole time.

My knowledge of Lilia's time as General in Meleanor's army was limited, a vague impression left from a magic induced coma. But it was nearly impossible to deny the facts as they were shoved right in my face. (Err, against my neck?)

Somehow, Crowley's spell had backfired and not taken me back home to my dimension, but into the past.

Lilia braced his arm next to my head, his long hair forming a curtain around our faces. His nose is inches from mine, but I feel no comfort in the proximity. “Talk. Before I grow tired and find something else to occupy that mouth.”

Lilia’s thick cock rams down my throat mercilessly. I grip his thighs, allowing the fae to use my mouth as he pleases. From above, he grunted, baring his sharp teeth like a predator snarling. Globs of spit and drool dribbled past my lips and down my chin, splashing to the dirt below. The thick leather straps of his armor gave away to my nails as I dug them deep, allowing Lilia to use me as he pleased. My throat burned from the harsh, stuttering movements of his hips. He fucked my face so hard it was murderous as if he were trying to make up for not beheading me before.

Yet another stamp on that infernal bingo card—but I can’t say I hate this one.

I would have been incredibly embarrassed at my gagging noises if the burning between my legs had not taken precedence. My eyes roll back, briefly catching a glimpse of the General’s ecstasy-clouded expression. His pink lips parted in a silent gasp, gaze raised to the heavens.

Abruptly, Lilia pulls out and begins fisting his cock. His movements are furious as he hunches over. “I’m going to smear that filthy human expression with my seed—paint you white, since I can't paint you red. Maybe I'll leave you like that, so your brethren can see your betrayal written across that pretty little face. Mmm, just like this.”

I close my eyes just in time for thick, hot spurts of Lilia’s cum sprayed over my face. My knees trembled, and I stifled a moan between my teeth and tongue.

Lilia wasn’t done.

He pushes me, and I fall into the mossy underbrush. Lilia takes my knees and peels them apart, staring at the feeble scrap of cloth, preserving what little dignity I have left. I’m trembling again, fixated on the sheer size of Lilia’s hand as it practically swallows my thigh in his massive grip.

“How pathetic,” he coos. Lilia drags one finger down my thigh, ghosting the hemline of my panties. “You’re drenched.” He touches the mound of my pelvis before hooking his index finger around the gusset and prying it aside. “Never have I seen a human so eager. The rest of your race would be dumbfounded to know their kinsmen loved choking on faerie cock.”

I bite my lip, a blush burning my cheeks. The cold forest air kissed my exposed skin, but I felt none of it. Only the intense searing sensation of General Vanrouge’s stare, his slitted pupils sharp like knives. His digits danced across my lips, collecting slick, teasing my poor throbbing core.

“Ah, but you said we would be friends in this future. Pupils.” Lilia snickers, brushing against my clit. “Perhaps it’s not so strange after all. Perhaps you let me have my way with you as much as I’d like—like the sweet, foolish girl you are.”

Lilia crawled up my body, reminiscent of the one he’d had me at not so long ago. Only, this time, I didn’t need a sword to my neck to keep me in place. Lilia sunk two fingers knuckle-deep inside my pussy, abating that hollow feeling inside.

“General,” I moan.

He chuckles again and licks a broad stripe across my cheek. He surges forward, curling his fingers at the same instant our lips meet. My mouth opens, but Lilia swallows the cry. He snaked his tongue into my mouth, pushing a copious amount of his cum for me to taste. It passes between us until I swallow it, painfully aware of every second it seeps down my insides. He pulls away too soon, but not before spitting on me for good measure. It lands in my mouth, still agape and from panting.

“Such a cute, little faerie whore. It’s almost endearing.” Lilia spreads the fingers he’s buried inside my cunt, and it’s magnificent. He’s so deep, his slender digits pressing into spots I could never dream of touching. “I ought to fuck you open, now. That’s what you want, isn’t it, pretty one? I can only imagine how this hot little hole of yours will squeeze me.” Lilia slips his fingers from my cunt, only to deliver a sharp smack to my clit. “If there’s one thing that comes from your hellish future, I’m glad to know I shall have a tight cunt to warm me, even if it is a human’s.”

I could correct him. I probably should. But the instant his swollen cockhead breaches my pussy, all coherent thought dissipates into a lusty puff of smoke.

I'll never be able to look Lilia in the eye again if I ever get back.

#twisted wonderland #twst smut #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge smut #lilia vanrouge #darling writes #twst x reader

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bl00dlight · 3 months

Text

Ghostly Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC sister x Alys Rivers {NSFW}

Warnings ● more carpet munching, graphic language, general smut and filth, implied homophobia, age gap, dubious consent, violence against female character, heterosexuality, Aemond being depraved as fuck and lowkey the worst, oedipus complex, full blown targcest, mentions of Madame Sylvie (sorry yall), Alys Rivers being a trick ass bitch, not proof read

Word count ● 4.7k

Author's Note • Long awaited. It's finally here. Holy fuck it's actually... like insane how long this took for me to dwell on. I'm not gonna spoil anything but this one is a bit gross. In a good way. Sick sick sick.

Masterlist / Ghostly Flame ● Part I

Part II

The sight on the Prince Regent's bed was indeed, not a mere dream. He stammered as a flood of emotions suddenly whipped against his skull.

As he entered, Aemond's face darkened and the breath in his lungs all but vanished. Hs let fist slowly curl, though his eye was transfixed on the two women, watching as his paramour's mouth moved against his sister's skin. Despite it all, the disgust and rage that was brewing; for a brief moment he enjoyed the sounds and sight before him.

And yet, Aemond knew it was but a vile sin, a betrayal of both his bedmate and beloved sister. Still, the sight stirred heat within him.

Alys continued in her ministrations, her tongue moving with precision, seeking to please and to tease the princess. The witch was so engrossed in the task before her that she hadn't noticed the door or the figure which loomed in the shadows.

The sounds of his sister's mewling was enough to drive him over the edge. The prince clenched his jaw, he stalked towards the women and spoke, his voice ringing in the quiet of the room. "Alys."

Just like that the sounds of their pleasure had come to a deadened stop. Slowly Alys pulled away, and turned towards Aemond. Daera opened her eyes with a flash, her body jolting with fear and suddenly the humiliation rang true.

Aemond's own heart was hammering in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts he had never dared admit aloud.

"Tell me," Aemond whispered, his voice rough and low. "Do the both of you take me for a fool?"

Alys bowed her head and spoke gently, "My Prince, I..."

"Silence." Aemond sneered, stalking towards Alys. His fist soon met with her raven hair, gripping at it as he forced her head up at him. "I have had my fill of your vile tongue."

A silence brewed before he suddenly shoved the woman back to the ground. Alys winced as he body hit the floor with a startling thud. Daera shook, her hands in her head as she had pulled the sheets upon her bare flesh out of modesty. It was comical, still she seemed to care of propriety, even though her own brother had seen her in such a state.

Aemond grunted, raising a hand up as though he was to strike the woman before him. Alys stayed deadly still upon the ground, gritting her teeth, awaiting his hand to make contact with her flesh. Though he felt his rage stir he swiftly pulled his hand away. He could not strike her, no, instead he launched and gripped her arm, forcing her upon her feet.

"You dare humiliate me? You dare bring such shame upon me? Defiling my own blood, my sister! Upon the very bed I let your treacherous head lay, no less!" Aemond's lonesome eye was narrowed in a maelstrom of emotions, anger, betrayal, jealously, humiliation.

Yet in truth, he felt one thing; weakness.

Alys glared at him, speaking oddly calmly, "Of course not, your grace..."

"Then speak, bastard! Speak on the sight before me... of you upon my sister and why my eye was witness to it! Speak to why you... why you dare go against me, after all I have done! I spared you, or do you forget?" The prince gripped her flesh sternly and his gaze faltered as he felt sorrow bloom.

Daera looked away, she couldn't bare the scene before her. Couldn't bare what she had done, she hadn't even known what led her to do it. She had no excuse, no reason. It seemed to have happened before she had any idea it was occurring.

The princess wiped her tears, her heart aching. "Brother..." she muttered weakly, sorrowfully.

Aemond turned his head sharply, "I SHALL HEAR NOTHING FROM YOU!" He snapped at Daera, forcing her back into submission.

His gaze came to Alys once more, whom at this point was holding back a low snicker. Her hands came to his chest, and a low hum was earnt from the prince at her soothing ministrations.

"You are not so tempting as to distract me. I see you for what you are... a snake in my own den." He lowered his tone, as his hand came to her raven locks and gripped them.

Alys gave him an incredulous look once more, "You... you do not mean such things, I have been nothing but faithful, my prince."

"Yet your mouth was upon my sister? You think that faithful?" Aemond retorted swiftly, fastening his grip.

"I... I do not deny how such may seem an act of betrayal. But it was in service to you, your grace." Alys flinched as his hands laced themselves in her hair forcefully. Her voice still measured.

"Do not dare speak such folly-" His temper flared as Alys spoke over the Prince.

"It is not folly... I have brought her, swayed her senses so they may receive what is so deeply suppressed within her. She had not come for me, my prince. She came for you." Alys' voice like a siren song, she let her hands run to his cheeks. Gently stroking at his sharp features.

Silence beckoned for a moment, as Aemond found himself lured by the witch's words. Her eyes gazing with reverence upon him, yet there was a glimmer of something else. Something she had seen.

Slowly, Aemond's grip upon her hair eased flattening to cup her head, "What do you see?" He muttered, his eye scanning her carefully.

Daera's sobbing had eased now, and she watched with baited breath as her brother and the witch spoke before her. She noticed the tilt of Alys' head the low chuckle as she leaned in to Aemond's ear, muttering something unknown.

There was a noticeable shift, the sharp line of his jaw hardening as he eased into her touch. Daera caught a low hum from him, an inquisitive one as Alys nodded.

The prince turned to his sister, her trembling form. No doubt her mind already a place of torment for her. His gaze scanned over her pale flesh, silver hair - so much like his own. Though she looked more like their mother in her features. Melancholic round eyes, full lips; a soft cherubic face. She was a woman grown and yet, still appeared so much like the docile girl she once was in their youth.

Aemond leaned down, his silver hair catching in the moonlight as he gazed upon his sister sternly. His hand gripped her wrist.

"I ought to punish you." He said firmly.

Daera instantly weakened at his words, her head tilting, tears streaming as she simpered, "Brother..."

His hand suddenly clasped her cheek, silencing her whining, "Do as I say."

The Princess's eyes searched his lonesome one, her gaze coiling in uncertainty. She shook her head, disturbed by his sudden change of demanour. Her heart thundering as she knew whatever was to occur, was something she ought to be fearful of. She felt the need to beg, to plead for forgiveness. Though she remained still.

"I do not blame you, for failing to resist my Alys' charm. You are but a woman... you stand little chance against her, for even I find my resolve wavering in her wake." He slowly rose to his feet, and Alys came to him, slowly unstrapping his leathers from his chest.

"You are not... mad with me?" The Princess whimpered, squeezing her nails into her palms. Allowing the pain to distract her from her shame.

"What Alys has seen.. changes the matter." Aemond spoke with a new found clarity, though there was a bitterness that lingered upon his tongue.

Daera shook her head in response, she looked at Alys, whose hands were upon his breeches, unlacing them. Before she could continue he pulled her hands away from him. "No." Aemond muttered, slowly turning to his sister.

Daera found herself trembling once more, her eyes watery, desperately searching for answers as she whispered, "Seen what?"

It was the uncertainty in her eyes which made Aemond look away, his gaze narrowed upon the ground as he mumbled to Alys, "I cannot..."

The witch let her hands cup his face once more, soothing the fear he felt within him, "You can... and you will, desire has sown it's seed long bef-"

Aemond swiftly gripped her wrists, interrupting her, "Do not presume to know of my desires! She is my sister..."

The raven hair of Alys fell upon her pale shoulder as she turned to face the princess before her. Aemond's eye wandering for a moment upon her bare flesh... her breasts.

Daera looked into the green landscape of her eyes, flashes of them lingering between her thighs caused a spark of shame within the princess and she looked away. Alys chuckled softly, turning back to Aemond.

The witch leaned in, her hands coming back to his jaw, one slowly trailing down his neck. She hummed, smiling softly as Alys whispered to Aemond, "You are the blood of old Valyria, your grace... fire courses through your very flesh. A fire I have felt lick at my womb and that shall lick upon hers..."

Aemond's gaze met his paramour's in an intense exchange of understanding and trepidation. Though he was soothed by her gentle touch upon him, soothed by the wisdom her foresight granted him. She was right, it was not as though he held no desire for his sister. He had merely suppressed it. Why long for something that shall never be his to keep?

Their mother never sought to the betroth them, so Aemond simply focused on matters of duty; of becoming a formidable force in battle. Though he could not embrace Targaryen tradition entirely, he sought to expand upon it in other ways. He would seek to become a fierce dragonrider. A man of skill, for his legacy would be his own.

As he gazed upon his sister, he felt the sudden urge to comfort her. The tears that rolled upon her cheek meant for a greater challenge. He would not force himself upon her, but he could not deny the fire set ablaze in his blood when his eye wandered her flesh.

She was to be his destiny it seemed... and if Alys' vision proved true, the mother to his true born heir.

He stalked towards her, and once again found himself reaching over. As he extended his hand to cup her cheek she flinched, and Aemond merely persisted.

Daera however, was not so much aware of what Alys and Aemond spoke of. If anything she was still mortified by the fact her brother had seen her indulge in such sin.

Her gaze widened at the feeling of his palm upon her fleshy cheek, "Please... forgive me...I know I have tainted myself in the eyes of the Gods, but you must let me seek absolution from you. My resolve has grown weak, I see it now... I..." The princess mumbled, fanatically searching her brother's stoney gaze as he watched the trembling of her lips.

Silence beckoned, and Aemond remained still. His eye scanning over her, his thumb rubbing against the plushness of her cheeks. Her eyes that wore sorrow so beautifully, just as their mother's does. Large, comforting eyes... for a moment he felt a sense of boyish peace dawn upon him. Remembering how once, Alicent would gaze upon him with concerned filled eyes.

Though he had not spoken to his mother in many moons now, could not bare the sight of her. It was in Daera's simpering expression he found a small sense of comfort. She was but a piece of home. Though his youth was not always a happy one, there was peace. There was... a familiarity which made him wish to crawl within his sister's arms and pretend nothing bad had befallen them.

"Brother..." She whimpered, begging for him to say something; pulling the Prince from his thoughts.

Daera's eyes were caught by the familiar saunter of Alys' bare frame. She came to Aemond, leaning down as her thin, pale fingers tucked his silver hair behind his ear. Gently she cooed, "Go on, my prince... take what is yours."

With that Aemond glanced briefly and Alys, and then slowly looked back upon his sister. He moved now, shifting his weight to crawl upon the bed. His hand still gripping at her cheek, and the other now finding her waist, pulling her from the sheet and forcing her before him.

Aemond gazed softly, tentatively, at her. His hand moving to her silver curls; her hair so similar to her mother's. His fingers twirled a strand delicately, as though it were made of glass. He suddenly brought his face near her, his cheek grazing hers as he buried his nose within her locks for a moment. He breathed in, closing his eye. The familiar sweet smell of honeysuckled flesh filling his senses.

The princess was in complete shock, she had never known such affections from her brother before. Her eyes widened, her gaze meeting Alys', who came to the bed, sitting at the end as she removed Aemond's boots. Soon, her pale hand reaching over to stroke Aemond's hair gently. The princess furrowed her brow, positively unfurled by the scene before her. Her tears had all but come to a halt, not for the fact shame had left her, but for the fact she was overwrought by the absurdity of it all.

Aemond pulled back slightly, and both he and his sister let out a sharp breath. Her eyes wide, watching him carefully as he gently grazed his nose upon her cheek. His hand coming to her lips. Lips which were too, like Alicent's; swollen and quivering.

His eye, narrowed upon her and he caught her discomforted demanour. His fingers moving from her lips to cup her cheek as he muttered, "If it is absolution you seek, then let us not allow what transpired to be in vain. So, do as I say."

Daera though confused, did not protest. She nodded and heard her breath catch within her throat as he hummed slightly. Aemond brought his other hand to her cheek. A look of determination filled his eye though he seemed conflicted.

His gaze locked upon her lips, he wanted to kiss her, wanted to touch her. Though he knew not how to. Aemond grunted again, unsure of himself. An awkward tension rose as he stammered like a boy. The Prince huffed, looked down as humiliation coiled in his belly. He felt weak, he felt the fool.

He had, in truth never been with a woman as young as Daera. Though she was but a year younger than he. She was unlike Alys... unlike Madame Sylvie. Both of which had known the ways of initiating pleasure. He had never had to worry of such things, for both women brimmed with the confidence only within a mature woman, to take charge. Neither were coy, nor demure. Neither stuttered nor flinched when presented with his desire. Neither seemed so... shocked by his forwardness, nor hid behind maidenly virtue, nor looked upon him with judgement. They were women whom he felt safe with, secure with. He did not have to wear the mask he had crafted so precisely for himself. Did not have to act with the hard faced confidence of a man. Aemond could be unsure, with Alys and Madame Sylvie. He could let go of his masculine fortitude and be a boy once more.

But this was not the case with Daera. He could not help but find the judgement in her eyes, enraging. Already he thought of the million ways she may be laughing or repulsed by him. Already he thought of how she would reject him if he were not willing to do as had been taught men are to do. Take charge.

He could not falter with her, could not be seen as weak.

"Alys..." He muttered lowly, his head turning slightly as to call his paramour to guide him.

The witch continued stroking his hair, cooing softly as she gave him a knowing look, "As you would me..." Her voice soft, knowing he would understand her implication.

Aemond gave a small nod, his gaze then returning to his sister. A look of determination yet also... fear in his eye.

Daera had watched the interaction transpire as though she were but a mere spectator in her body. It hadn't felt real at all, it all seemed like an elaborate dream, and betwixt the moonlight and shadows of Harrenhal, he wasn't fully convinced it wasn't.

The princess found herself sharply returned back to reality as the feeling of her brother's breath upon her neck made her flinch. His fingers gently moving the strands of her silver curls away, before the soft and warm sensation of his lips met her neck.

Daera went to protest, but was met with the cold palm of Alys upon her other cheek, her fingers lacing in her hair as she pulled the princess' head to one side. Exposing more of her neck for Aemond to place his lips upon.

Alys smiled softly and gently stroked the coil of worry lines upon Daera's face.

"That's it." The witch lulled gently, slowly encouraging Daera to lean into her brother's touch. To which the princess slowly raised her hand to Aemond's silver strands, her fingers coiling into his scalp, earning a low groan.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of his lips moving up her neck, his hands now moving upon her bare body, falling between her plush breasts, down onto the soft planes of her belly.

It was not long before she felt Alys' lips press into her own, a small whimper leaving the princess.

It was that sound which egged Aemond further, he kissed up Daera's jaw, hoping to siphon more of those sweet sounds from his sister. He felt the familiar touch of Alys upon the band of his breeches, already unlaced. Her cool hand shuffling them down, before reaching in, palming his stiffened length. The sudden feeling of his paramour's hand upon him made him groan. Though he swiftly pulled away from the soft flesh of his sister, his head turning to Alys' sharp face.

"I shall do it myself." His words a quiet yet sharp command.

Alys conceded and resumed her position behind him, gently she stroked his silver tresses. Slightly annoyed by his barking at her tonight. Though she supposed he probably still seethes over her seducing Daera so easily.

The princess was terribly lost in the moment. She had eased to her brother's advances and slowly, his hand came to move her head towards his and pressed into hers gently. Daera whimpered and he pulled away, catching a breath. It was with that kiss that her blood had been set ablaze by him. Suddenly, her hands reached up, catching his cheeks in her palms and attempting to force her lips back into his.

Aemond, pulled away slightly, if not only to tease her for her eagerness, but also to remind him he must remember she had not ever been touched by a man. She was unwed, a mere maiden and similarly to him, probably starved for affection.

A dark desire bloomed as he noted her pleading gaze, a sense of control he did not get with his older lovers. It felt good to be the one whom was bestowing another with affection. Filling a lovelorn void with her that he himself shared. He found her stammering endearing, familiar in a way.

He pulled back again, if not to see how her pretty face coiled in desperation. Just as his would. His hand moved to the back of her hair, gripping her strands roughly, her head tilting back before he spoke lowly, "Tell me you desire it."

Daera's eyes beamed with a sudden awakening desire. Her cunt growing warm, as she whispered, "I desire it."

Aemond's jaw clenched, his voice soft, "Do you want me?" His eye wide, expectant.

Slowly, the Princess let her hands move into his hair as she furrowed her brow, as if he had to ask, she thought. Her voice equally soft, needy, "Yes, brother."

It was those very words which set his lips to hers again. He forced his breeches from him, Alys aiding. Aemond let his knee pry Daera's legs apart, his hand moving to finally touch what he knew would already be ready for him. His fingers grazing her wet core, just as their lips upon each other grew far more intensive in their ministrations. Daera was again, shocked by how wet everything felt, and his fingers sliding between her cunt made her mouth open slightly as a moan left her.

He pushed her down, and his head turned to guesture for Alys to get behind Daera. The witch did so, moving so that her legs were parted where Daera's head lay between. Aemond looked down upon his sister then up at his paramour. His eye narrowed as he let himself slip a finger into Daera's entrance.

A sudden moan left the princess and her hands gripped at his upper arms, she found her head tilting back as a simpering gasp left her. His other hand guiding her knee upwards as he pushed two fingers within her. Slowly stretching her. His eye caught Alys again, who herself had seemed to find the ordeal so pleasing, her own hand worked upon her. He watched as she circled her cunt, then slowly fucking herself with her fingers. Though Daera hadn't noticed, she was too busy writhing beneath Aemond as his fingers had grown terribly fast.

Suddenly he stopped, pulling his fingers from her, his gaze still harsh upon Alys as she pleased herself. His jaw clenched as he had remembered the sight he had walked in upon.

Daera found herself letting out a small whine as he had stopped, she looked up at him, when she was met with his hand clasping her cheeks. Aemond spoke with a swift determination in his tone, "You will tend to Alys as I ready you."

Daera had opened her mouth to speak before Aemond interrupted, "Turn around."

With that, Daera had found herself most shocked, though slowly, hesitantly she turned to her belly and moved towards Alys.

Aemonds voice rang in the thick silence of the chamber, "Tell her what she might do." He said lowly to Alys, his gaze too busy scanning the vast expanse of Daera's pale back, her plump rear and fleshy thighs.

Alys hummed, titling her head, her hands coming to Daera's cheeks to pull her forward, "I shall take the girl's mouth." The witch spoke smugly, her hand pulling at Daera's hair as she lowered the princess' lips to her cunt. "Slowly, my pet..." Alys cooed. "With your tongue."

Daera all but whimpered as her mouth met the soft, delicate folds of Alys. She was not sure how to go about it, but she started with slow, languid licks, hoping she might gauge where Alys was brought pleasure. The witch hummed and chuckled with pleasure, her hips slowly circling as she pressed Daera's mouth upon her cunt further. She instructed the princess lowly, and soon Daera was using her tongue to circle Alys clit, winning groans from the older woman.

Aemond had found himself oddly transfixed by the sight, his paramour instructing his sister. It was as though he was watching himself in a way. Though the sight of the two woman before him, was far more thrilling than he had anticipated. Alys' head tilted back, forcing Daera to move quicker, and Aemond slowly pryed apart her thighs. His fingers finding Daera's soaked core.

He grazed her clit, winning gentle moans from her as his other hand kneaded her rear. Alys, moaned again, her peak dawning as she cried, "The prince watches us... sweet girl. He watches with reverence."

Her words sparked a quick hum from Aemond as he found himself focused on Daera again. He leaned down, his chest pressed upon her back as lewd sounds of the two women filled the chamber. He moved his sister's hair to the side, exposing her neck and back. Aemond pressed gentle kisses into her, his hands trailing her soft flesh.

As he went to kiss her again, Alys had pulled Daera's hair harshly, forcing Aemond to lose his grip slightly. He looked up at his paramour, watching as she rolled her hips on his sister mouth, chasing her endless peak.

She was indeed a woman of great fortitude, but this was not about her pleasure. This was about legacy, this was about himself and his sister... and their duty to House Targaryen. Aemond's hands wrapped around Daera's waist, suddenly pulling her away from Alys' cunt.

The witch's eyes opened swiftly, and she gasped. "Your grace?!" She barked, almost like a mother would towards her child.

Though Aemond paid little attention to Alys as he laid Daera down upon her back again. "You've had your fill." He muttered.

The raven haired woman scoffed, "So I get nothing then? I brought you the girl-"

Aemond raised his hand, his tone aloof as he gazed down upon Daera. "Leave us." Aemond spoke lowly to Alys, he was too transfixed on the way Daera had brought her hands to his cheeks.

"My Prince..." The witch begged. Alys let her gaze grow wide and discontented.

"Hm.." Aemond looked up to the older woman, his gaze unwavering, stern, "You may go."

It only took one disgruntled look from Alys before she gave a nod, biting her tongue as she moved away from the bed. She dressed herself once more and left without any protest. After all, she was but under his mercy.

The silence in the room was startling, Daera's eyes widened, and her hand came to Aemond's eye patch, though he forced her hand away. He did not say another word as he settled between her legs. Aemond moved her hand to clasp his length, guiding her hand up and down to ready himself.

His lips met hers as he moved her legs to wrapped around his hips, and slowly, Aemond let his cock graze her folds. Both of them moaning at the sensation. He felt his resolve weaken, and with that, he pushed into her entrance ever so slowly. Giving her time to adjust to him.

Her core tight, so tight he felt himself wince as he tried to push further. Daera squeezed his arm making him force her hands to his cheeks. "Calm yourself." He said lowly.

Daera obliged, she closed her eyes, trusting the sensation that currently stung with pain would soon dissolve and it did. He eased himself into her, and Daera marvelled at the sound he made when he had finally pushed within her. All that could be heard from her was a deep gasp, her head tilting back. As he rocked his hips, fucking her slowly, her hands laced into his hair and his face buried into her neck. Daera suddenly began to moan softly, wantonly as the sensation became more and more pleasurable as her core loosened. She began to feel herself relax, and he slid in and out of her with ease. Aemond at this point was all but lost, he kept moving into her, his hands cupping her face as he moved between his face in the crook of her neck or kissing her harshly. His moans growing more intense, their names flying from the other's mouth. Panting and cursing filled his chamber, alongside low growls as he relished the feeling of her warm cunt upon him.

"Sweet sister..." He grumbled, nodding as his peak was soon to come. "Have me." He said, almost sweetly against her flesh. He wanted to bury himself in her, hold her tight. And that he did, their bodies flushed firmly against each other and Daera had instinctively began to rock her hips against his.

She moaned, grappling at his hair as she whispered, "Aemond... my brother..."

It was her soft coos which triggered him to come fiercely within her. His seed causing an odd warmth to spread within her. As the moment diffused, the heat between them had caused both of them to become flushed, panting gently as they lay entwined upon the bed. The shadows enclasping them both, yet in their arms both found a sense of peace. Daera coiled into him, her head resting upon the top of his.

Aemond laid upon her, letting her arms wrap around him, her soft flesh against his taut frame felt like bliss. He breathed out, speaking softly against her skin, "Alys... she.." Aemond stammered breathlessly against her neck, leaving small kisses.

Daera raised her brow, her hands coming to his hair, gently grazing his silver tresses. The moment felt beyond intimate, she felt a strange tie to him. One that had been all but lost to their distant youths.

He let his hands gently carress her face, his cheek nuzzling against her own as he whispered softly, cooingly into her ear,"She see's a silver haired boy upon the throne... a boy who comes from the flesh of two dragons. The mother... a great beauty, the father... a feared warrior. Of darkness and light, joined by a ghostly flame of longing. Separated by time, brought together by blood. It is us... sweet sister. Alys sees us."

#hotd #aemond targaryen #targaryen #house of the dragon #got #aemond one eye #daemon targaryen #rhaneyra targaryen #daenerys targaryen #helaemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #alys rivers x oc targ #aemond targaryen x sister #aemond targaryen x alys river #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower

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moseslikellamas · 3 months

Text

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - On the night of a record storm, Shanda Bracken sneaks into the land between the Brackens and the Blackwoods known as the Borderlands. Hoping to do routine reconnaissance she gets more than she bargained for when the guard on duty is the Blackwood heir himself.

Warnings - fem!reader, mentions of violence, fighting, suspense, female rage, strained family dynamics, complicated relationships, adult language, period typical misogyny, not cannon compliant, kieran burton fancast, terminal benji brainrot

Word count - 2.5k

!MinorsDNI!

There will be more!! Bc I am feral.

Pt. 1 of 11 currently

The sound of the wind hammering against the castle walls seemed as if it intended to blow Stone Hedge down. The gods were angry with them but Shanda couldn’t figure a reason for it now. Beyond that, she had plans tonight. Plans that wouldn’t wait for a storm, no matter how great. As she carefully pulled her hood up, she peeked around the ground floor column again. Empty, she’d timed it just right. Quickly she ducked through the room and down the servants staircase descending as fast as she could manage. The kitchens were empty and she did not linger, quietly making her way outside.

The wind threatened to steal the door from her grip when she finally thrust it open. Nearly falling down the steps, she managed to firmly shut the door. Gazing out at the darkened yard, lightning flashed for a moment illuminating the path ahead. Shanda moved with haste, if her father caught her out here again… It was best not to think about that. The only reason she’d gotten this shot was thanks to her brother. Martyn was on guard tonight and had agreed to look the other way as it were.

Shanda was on her way to the borderlands. It was stupid, reckless and irresponsible behavior. That was undoubtedly true, however the reward was worth the risk in her mind. Her father happened to disagree with that sentiment but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She’d been on these missions to the borderlands three times prior, always sneaking up behind Blackwood guards and listening to their private conversations. They were all terrible gossips and it didn’t take long for them to start disclosing secrets. She wasn’t stupid, she was quiet and didn’t stick around long. Choosing different spots to spy on each time she came and ensuring she left no tracks to be followed back by. That’s why the approaching storm was perfect. She’d show up, steal some intel and let the rain wash all of her tracks away.

Outside of the gates in the free and clear, Shanda made her way into the dense, tall grass that acted as an excellent cover. She’d made sure to wear dark wash colors and opted for trousers under her thick cloak. The night was silent, with all of the animals hiding away from the incoming storm, the only sound came from the howling winds blowing across the ocean of grass she hid in. The moon was obscured by clouds and she had to stop often to squint into the distance to orient herself. But before long she could hear the blackwood guards' voices carried by the winds.

“… declare for the new ki…” “It won’t matter will it? Not if… certainly a c… olent swine!…”

Shanda frowned as she approached as far as she dared. The wind was working against her it seemed. There were two guards, both unremarkable to her. Black haired, tall, enemies. The only thing she wanted was a better chance at hearing them. They sat close together, the broader one closest to her had his back positioned towards her, while she could see the profile of the smaller man. He appeared older, and wore a sour look on his face. He seemed to be the one doing most of the speaking.

“… ell him, I will. He’s the lord of… crimes against us in our own land, it doesn’t b…”

She strained to hear against the roar of the leaves shivering in their branches as the wind picked up again and the voices rose louder in it.

“Get a grip! And don’t bother me about it anymore!”

She crouched low and lay still when the older man abruptly got up and gazed over at the field where she lay hidden before storming away. She ducked back into the grass, hand poised on a borrowed dagger. Her heart was racing but after a few moments of nothing she carefully peeked back out. The younger man sat alone now still, with his head in his hands. She waited for a good thirty minutes in silence. Then she weighed her options. She hadn’t gotten much of anything and it had taken a lot to get back out here. Going back now was unsatisfactory. On the other hand, it didn’t seem like the guard was sending a replacement and the lone man apparently didn’t feel like talking to himself anytime soon. She resolved to wait a while longer when the rain started.

At first it was just a bit of cold hard rain pelting down at her but it quickly turned into a deluge unlike any she’d ever seen. All other thoughts flew out of her mind in the present moment except getting out of the rain. The problem was she kept slipping, caught in a tangle of mud and grass. A clap of thunder rang out so loud she jumped, nearly crying out in fear. Half drowning as she looked up, she noticed the fire put out and the guard missing.

“Shit.” Her eyes scanned all around her but it was a pointless exercise. She couldn’t see anything from the sheer amount of water in her eyes, the world a big muddy blob as her vision clouded over.

“Come on.” She commanded herself, standing and making a run for it. That is to say she tried to run, the mess of weeds and mud wrapped around her legs made her slip. The fall knocked the breath out of her and she lay there stunned, watching the rain fall for a moment gathering the mental strength to try again. She never did though, the knife in the ground beside her head inches from her eye was the motivating factor.

Moving with a deftness she hadn’t possessed moments before, she was up, grip tight on her own weapon as she moved to strike. Her assailant was quick and it was sheer luck he hadn’t struck true on the first blow. Shanda took care to stay out of his attack range. Using their height differences to her advantage, she would duck in and slice. But she hasn't made contact even once. The rain is so thick it's suffocating and it becomes increasingly more clear that she is outmatched here.

“Fucking spy! I’ll kill you.” His voice is rough but carries over the rain.

She has no doubt he means it, the Blackwood’s are all brutes. She tries to get a good look at him, but he snags her cloak and a struggle ensues. His strength doubles her own and she decides instantly to cut the fabric. A clap of thunder rings out like an explosion, shaking the ground beneath them. Or is it him shaking her? The last thread snaps and she’s free again. This time she doesn’t waste a second before turning heel and running. There’s a league of borderlands between her and home, the run is agony.

Worst of all, the guard has set upon chasing her screaming obscenities the entire way. If she weren’t terrified she would commend his lung capacity . Hers was waning and the ground grew softer and softer as they went. She sprints hard aiming for the clutch of trees approaching. She can’t keep this pace up for much longer, her ankle screamed from the earlier fall and her breath is ragged. She doesn’t slow as she enters the cover of the canopy. It’s quieter here and she tries to move with care aware her pursuer is still there. She can now make out his taunts.

“Coward! Be a man. Stop hiding like a babe.”

“Did the rain waterlog your mind? Or are all spies brazen fools?”

Panting behind a tree she rested for a second before darting behind another. It would be worse for him to discover she couldn’t man up and fight him. She berated herself for messing up, for staying when she should have left. She should've called it early and packed up when the first guard left. Better yet, if she hadn’t come at all like her father had commanded. Heaving gasps of air, soaked to the bone in the pitch darkness probably wasn’t the time to have second thoughts though.

It was then she acknowledged how quiet it was, the rain muffled by the trees was distant. Hopefully it was dying down while she rested but the mongrel hunting her had gone silent. And that did not bode well for her she knew. Now she moved as delicately as possible, working to disturb no branch or leaf as she crept through the trees. It was impossibly dark and it was memory alone that guided her forward. Shanda had been on several hunts with her brothers, who were always sneaking her places she shouldn’t be. She hadn’t cared much for it, lots of waiting. Now her heart was pounding so hard it was difficult to hear anything else. She had to pause, coming to a complete stop to strain her ears for any noise. Each time she paused her heart beat grew faster til she was sure she would faint.

When the edge of the trees finally appeared she could have weeped as she leapt to exit. A hard jerk from behind pulled her up short. She audibly choked as her assailant dragged her backwards into the trees once more by her hood. She clawed at her cloak trying to undo the clasp. Finally, he released her and she flailed gasping again for air.

She used the movement to grab her knife.

“None of that.” He was quicker than her this time, using the back of his own knife he hit her hand so hard she cried out and dropped it. He then snaked one arm around the middle of her and the other held the blade at her throat. Her back pressed against the front of him, she didn’t dare breathe.

“Now, care to tell me why a fair maiden like you is out this time of night, sneaking around the borderlands no less?” His tone was mocking, arrogant and condescending. It made her blood boil. She desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation that didn’t end with her death but she was utterly unable to form a coherent thought. Her only advantage was that she wore no sign of her house.

“Care to get your filthy fucking hands off of me?” She spat as a way of answer.

He burst out laughing at her reply, the sound rumbling through her own chest deep and heavy. The knife at her neck never moved an inch during and that was scarier to her than if he’d nicked her. He was careful, controlled. He’d known exactly where she was going to exit the trees from and had circled around to cut her off. And now he was laughing at her.

“Such foul language but no fouler than the crime you’ve committed.”

“What crime?” She scoffed, wanting to twist out of his hold.

His answer was inconsequential to her, she was trying to find a way to knock the knife out of his hand. She could see her own knife on the ground a few feet away. If she could manage to get his knife away from him then -

“Attacking the heir of Raventree of course. Attempted murder is a nasty crime. Not to mention the spying and if I’m not mistaken a breach of the recent peace treaty.”

Her thoughts froze along with all of the blood inside of her body. Nameless Blackwood guard number whatever was one thing, but the heir of Raventree? This wouldn’t just reach her father, it would reach Riverrun. Lord Grover Tully would punt the issue down to Elmo and the gods only know what would happen there. A man known for mischief, it sent a shudder through her. Considering this would be the third conflict in a moon's turn it wasn’t likely to be a light punishment. She had well and truly stepped in it now.

“Preposterous, are you going to admit to a crowd that I nearly bested you? Sad look for a sad house, I suppose it works.”

“I did say attempted.” He pushed the blade harder against her throat, causing her to push further back into him to avoid it.

“If anything you’ve attempted harm here, not me. I was minding my own business, when you attacked me.”

“Minding my business you mean. We knew someone was sneaking in to spy on us. Never dreamed it was a woman, tracks were covered too well.”

Shanda aggressively rolled her eyes at that.

“I wasn’t minding your anything, now unhand me and we can forget this entire ordeal.” She said suddenly very tired.

“Afraid I can’t do that darling, you’re a wanted criminal and my chance to win the argument you saw earlier.”

“You knew the whole time?” Her tone was incredulous and her hope for escape was waning by the moment.

“The tracks were covered well, but not well enough. Why do you think I was down there? The guards were disputing over your existence.”

If only she hadn't been caught! She could’ve been the Bracken ghost wreaking havoc on dumb guards. Now she made a deliberate grab for his sword. It was a stupid move, she couldn’t hope to pull it from its scabbard.

“Quit that, what are you…”

She was right in her assessment that it would distract him though and when his grip loosened she sprung into action. First she elbowed him as hard as possible in the chest, and slammed her head back into her captors. It should've been enough to make any man let go of her but the Blackwood heir didn’t budge. It was only when twisting and writhing away from him she managed to knee him hard in the groin that he fully let go of her. She grabbed her knife off the ground as his arms wrapped back around her, pulling her up. This time she made contact, a long slash traveling up his shoulder. When he gasped in pain, she’d heaved with all her might and tipped him off balance using her leg as lever.

They both fell into the thick mud underneath them. Legs and arms wrapped and fought against each other in a web so complicated she couldn’t separate herself from her assailant. She’d also lost her knife in the struggle and in an underhanded move, freed herself by rubbing mud in his eyes. She knew if he got his arms around her again it was over. She jumped to her feet and took off again, bursting through the trees and back into the pounding rain which had been patiently waiting for her. In the distance she heard a voice rise up.

“Make it your last!”

She had no intention of stopping now. When the stakes were so high and the reward so tantalizing. The heir on guard duty, maybe her father might see reason after all for a borderlands scout.

Pt.2

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bookuce · 4 months

Text

I Hate You, I Love You (Roman Reigns) -- One Shot

Summary: It's Date Night for Mariah and Joe, but it doesn't go as planned. Insecurities were revealed. Words went flying, but it's okay. He's going to make her take it all back.

DISCLAIMER: Outside of the OC, I do not own any character mentioned. The real names of wrestlers are used in my writings. In this, Joe is Roman Reigns. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAANKS.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

WARNINGS: Smut, Language, 18+, NSFW

WORD COUNT: 2,435

The front door to Mariah and Joe’s home swung open, bouncing off the wall behind it. “Get the fuck away from me.” She hisses, making sure to slam the door behind her. A shoulder stops it, forcing the door to open and hit the wall again. Dinner didn’t go as planned, and the entire drive home, she and him argued.

“Quit slamming doors in my fucking house, Mariah!” He shouts after her, slamming the door behind him. Mariah marched angrily up the stairs, her fingers fumbling with her earrings. She just wanted to get out of this stupid outfit.

“Fuck you, Joe.” She spat.

“Ay, watch your mouth.” He warns her. Joe would follow her up the stairs, his feet making thunderous sounds with each step he took. She enters the bedroom, walking over to her nightstand. “You’re always blowing things out of proportion.” That pissed her off. She grabs the lamp on the nightstand, sending it hurtling towards him. He dodges it, turning to watch it shatter against the wall.

“Don’t you dare try to flip this on me! I wasn’t the one eye fucking the waitress all night!” She shouts, pointing at him. “I try to do something nice for your ass—for us, and you make me look fucking dumb! You fucking pig! I fucking hate you!” Mariah’s body was shaking with rage, her body hot with anger. She’d clench and unclench her fists while she glared at him. He looks at her, his brows furrowing. He didn’t play any of that hate shit.

“Girl, are you out of your goddamn mind?” He says, stomping around the bed towards her. His hand reaches out, but she shoves it away.

“What did I just tell you!” She shouts at him. He reaches for her again, his advances falling short once more. “Get away—.”He snatches her arm up, yanking her towards him. They were now flush against each other, Joe towering over her. His large hand grasped wavy locks before pulling her head back to look at him.

“Say it again.” He growls.

Her heart was racing wildly in her chest thanks to this argument. Emotions were high, and there was a tingle in her throat. Her chest rose and fell with short breaths. She’d lock onto those brown eyes, tears beginning to fill her own. She’d blink quickly, ridding herself of the blurs her tears caused. She’d swallow back the urge to cry, her stare hardening. “I said I hate you—.” Before she could finish that sentence, Joe’s lips were on hers.

She’d press her lips tight together, protesting his kiss. He’d let go of her arm, his hand immediately reaching around to grab a handful of ass. It was his go-to move every time she stonewalled him. She’d let out a moan, allowing her mouth to fill with his tongue. Her mouth began to move against his own, returning his angry kiss. It was impressive how quickly she gave in to him when she was mad. He was a wrecking ball to every strong foundation she had ever built. Slender fingers travel up the lapel of his suit jacket before reaching around to connect at the back of his neck.

Joe’s hands would move from their places in her hair and on her ass, finding the neckline on the back of her dress. His fingers tried to find the zipper, but he would quickly get irritated with the hunt. They’d wrap around the neck, ripping the dress right down the center of her back. His hands would travel along the growing split, exposing her backside. Cold air rushed at her body, quickly raising goosebumps. His left hand traveled back up, now wrapping around the back of her neck. He’d grip it roughly, pulling her back from the kiss. She’d let out a pant at the unexpected motion but sharply gasped when he shoved her body into the comforter on their bed. He releases her neck, his hands pulling her arms back. He’d hold her wrists in one hand.

“Take it back.” He demands.

She lifts her head, her hair now a mess. “I hate you.” She says again. He’d strike her right ass cheek, causing her to yelp. The sensation from the sting traveled up her back, making her arch. “Fuck,” she says under her breath, letting her head drop back into the thick blanket.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” He says, his voice stern. She ignores his warning, remaining quiet. “Oh, now you have nothing to say.” His hand would collide with that cheek again, hitting in the same spot. Riah sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from reacting. A red, hand-shaped welt would appear on her skin. “Now, I can do this all night; it’s all up to you.” He boasts, bringing his hand down for a third time.

“God!” She cries out. “I—I take it back!” She moves her hips in an attempt to ease the burn.

He releases her hands, allowing them to drop to her sides. “Apologize.” He says calmly. Joe shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it neatly across the bed beside her. He unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves, folding them up past his elbows. Even though she surrendered, he and she knew he was far from finished. She presses her palms into the soft bedding, slowly pushing herself up.

“I’m sorry.” She breathes. The front of her dress would slip down her arms, exposing her breasts. She peers up from the curtain of messy black hair, her eyes finding her disheveled appearance in the grand mirror against the wall.

“That’s not good enough for me.” He says, her head dropping at his words. Oh, for fucks sake, she thought. Suddenly, he pulls her head back, causing her to gasp. Her hands reach back for his shirt, barely grasping the fabric. “Say it right. Daddy, I’m sorry. I’ll never say it again. I love you, Daddy. I need you, Daddy. Forgive me, fuck me, Daddy.” He says into her ear, mocking her tone of voice. “That’s what I want to hear.” He confesses. His breath was heavy in her ear, causing her to shiver. She’d move against his crotch, squeezing her legs tight at the arousal she was feeling. She could feel his bulge against her backside and just knew he was aching to free it. She just had to say the words.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She whimpers.

“Say it again.” He purrs, nodding his head.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“And?” He presses. Joe’s attention now turns to the mirror, a devious smile on his face. He reaches up, pulling the front of her dress down more.

“I’ll never say it again.” She adds. His large hand cups a breast, massaging it slowly. His thumb would flick her sensitive nipple, causing her to moan.

“Go on.” He whispers.

“I love you, Daddy.” She continues, her hips still moving against his. The friction would cause him to give her a moan. Mariah smirked at the reward.

“I love you.” He replies. His tongue would drag up her neck, flicking her earlobe. If he could, he’d devour her and leave nothing behind. She’d shift her hips once more, the tension in her loins growing by the second.

“I need you, Joe.” She says, opting for his name. He’d drop her back to the bed, and she’d sigh at the relief her neck felt. He’d wedge his knee between her legs, pushing her legs open. “Fuck me.” She breathes.

“Fuck me what?” He asks. His hands grabbed the tattered dress she wore, ripping it more to expose her lower half to him. She wore no underwear with plans of their evening ending on a good note. Technically, it still was, but the outcome was different now. His hand would find the heat between her legs, his fingers becoming soaked in her wetness. His middle and index would push through her folds, finding her throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” She moans.

“Good girl.” He cooed at her, his fingers massaging the cluster of nerves at her center. She whimpered softly, her hips winding against his hand slowly. “We’re gonna fix that attitude.” He removes his hand from her glistening folds, his hand now having the same shine. He’d bring his hand to his lips, taking both fingers into his mouth. He sucks her fluids off his hand, humming softly at the sweet taste. Riah relaxes into the mattress, sighing softly.

The unfastening of a belt could be heard behind Mariah, followed by the sound of a zipper. Joe pushed his pants past his hips, his cock flopping out from the confines of his trousers. He’d position himself at her opening before slowly pressing into her. She’d suck in a breath when she felt him insert her, a loud moan shaking her core. “Hush all that up.” He says, teasing her now. His hips move slowly within her, allowing her walls to adjust to him comfortably. “You done ran that mouth too much tonight.” He slams his hips into hers once.

“F-Fuck.” She stammers.

“Talking about you hate me.” Slam. “You don’t hate me. You can never hate me.” Slam. “You love me, can’t get enough of me, can’t live without me.” His hands grip her hips. “I don’t hate you either,” He breathes. “But I’ma fuck you like I do.” His hips began to pound into her, causing her to cry out in pleasure. Her hands would feel along the comforter before gathering the fabric by the fistfuls. She pulls it towards her, revealing the black satin sheets beneath the large blanket.

“J-Joe!” She moans. “Ah, Joe—fuck!” He’d reach down, pulling her head up slightly.

“Look at yourself.” He says, talking about the mirror. Watching him degrade her in the most disgusting of ways only made her more aroused. “Done made me ruin a good dress.”

“I’m sorry,” She whimpers.

“Yeah, you better be.” He groans. “Fuck, Riah.” He lifts a hand to unbutton his shirt. Bit by bit, his shirt would reveal that chest piece she loved to kiss so much. Her fingers now ached to touch it.

Her legs would begin to tremble with each thrust. Her body became overwhelmed with pleasure. Oh, she was close. “I’m gonna cum!” She chokes out. Her walls begin to clench against him, her legs increasingly getting worse. Suddenly, he pulls out, stripping her of any chance of release. His hand releases her hair, and she drops back into the bed. “Please!” She begs, making him laugh.

“Please!” He mocks her again. “What happened to all that mouth you had earlier, hm? Slamming my doors, breaking my shit.” He tsks at her, his head shaking in disappointment. “Not so tough now, are you?” He flips her onto her back. She’d land with her hands by her head. He grabs the shredded dress, ridding her body of it completely. He balls it up and tosses it to the side.

Mariah covers her face, trying to give herself a moment to compose herself. Her cheeks were hot, her face damp with sweat. Rough fingers wrap around her ankles and pull her to the edge of the bed. She drops her hands from her face, glaring up at Joe. He places both legs on his shoulders. “You can get that look off your face.” He tells her, pressing into her again. Her eyes would close in bliss, a soft sigh leaving her lips.

Joe begins to lean over her body. The pressure in her abdomen building as he did so. He was folding her in half, and she could only imagine what he had planned. Her legs would slide up his shoulders, crossing at the ankles. His hips would resume their vigorous motions, his cock now pushing up into her G-spot. Her hands would slam the bed three times as she cried out in pleasure at him. “Yes!” She exclaims, pushing her hips up into his. “Oh, God, yes!” Her legs trembled like never before, her toes curling hard.

“You hate me?” He asks, panting softly.

“No!” She moans.

“Look at me while I’m talking to you.” He growls. She forced her eyes open, meeting those dark eyes she loved terribly. “You love me?” He asks. She nods her head frantically.

“Yes! I love you, Daddy. I love you so much!” He was once again bringing her close to her climax. The closer she got, the louder her moans became. “I’m—I’m—.” before she could finish that sentence, he’d stop his hips. She let out a scream of frustration, earning a smug grin from her man. He was edging her into insanity. He moves her legs off his shoulders, now wrapping them around his waist.

“Simmer down.” He says, reaching up to fix his bun. Oh, this asshole, she thought. Hairs stood wildly on his head, but he slicked them back against his head.

“Joesph, if you don’t fuck me, I swear to—.” She says, her voice catching in her throat. His hips started moving again, this time extremely slow. This pace did nothing but quickly build her up again. Joe lets out a huff of his own, drawing close to his climax, too.

“No one gets me like this but you.” He tells her. “I don’t give a damn about anyone but you.” His hips begin to pick up speed again. He leans over her again, his fists pressing into the mattress. “Don’t fucking embarrass me like that again.” He says through clenched teeth. His hips collided with her own, filling the room with loud claps of flesh against flesh.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes again. “I’m close, God, I’m so close.” She whines. Her walls began to spasm around his length again, but this time he powered through. He could feel his hips starting to tighten, his thrusts now stuttering. He would give her three more pumps before releasing in her. Her body would erupt with tremors with her orgasm, her back arching off the bed. “Thank you,” she breathes. “Thank—.” Joe would turn her head, playfully pushing it into the mattress. She’d swat his hand away, earning a laugh from him. He pulls out, stepping back from between her legs. Pain would shoot up her legs now that she was finally able to rest them. She winces slightly.

Mariah pushes herself onto her elbows, her chest quickly rising and falling. “Clean yourself up.” He says, fixing his pants. She’d scoff gently, watching after him. He was walking toward the door. He needed water.

“You owe me a dress!” She exclaims after him.

“I know.” He replies, halfway down the stairs.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yeah, lmao please tell me what you think. I plan to cry about it later LMAO. This is literally my second time writing smut. I hope this was good @kawaiigladiatorwolf. Your request was random to me and I don't take them really, but I figured I'd give it a try. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I'm not a fan of y/n and find it hard to follow at times, so I did what was comfortable to me!

Enjoy!

#roman reigns smut #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x black oc #Spotify

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helvegen-s · 5 months

Text

Rage, rage | one

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: PTSD, description of injuries, bad language, the King of hybern (jumpscare), if there is anything more, please let me know.

A/N: so here it is, the first part. I really hope you enjoy it and that you get to love Nimue just as much as I do. Any kind of support is greatly appreciated! 🥰

Standing in the middle of that enormous training ground, Nimue counted the scars on her hands one by one: first her left hand, tracing each one with her right thumb; then her right hand, tracing each one with her left thumb. It had become a ritual, something that anchored her back to the physical world, slowly pulling her away from her daydreams.

Once again, she felt the weight of her body on her own bones, on her own muscles. A couple of deep breaths, and with the short sword in her hand, she began the series of exercises again. The same series of exercises as yesterday, the day before, and for the last twenty years.

Twenty years in which Nimue had grown accustomed to her new life. New, because she knew she had always been there, inside the Cauldron, and against her will those hands had torn her away from her place, her home. She had ended up in Hybern, locked in a castle and with a princess title she didn't know where it came from, as she shared no genetic bond with the man who called himself her father, the King of Hybern.

The King of Hybern, who with the Cauldron in his hands and desperate to conceive a powerful heir, had submerged his poor and naive concubine in the poisonous water of the Cauldron. The woman, pregnant with the king's offspring and terrified of disobeying the cruel king's orders, obeyed.

Thus, the liquid of the Cauldron separated skin from muscle, muscle from tendon, tendon from bone, and the poor woman who screamed dissolved like salt in water. Before the eyes of the entire court, the King had burned one of his concubines alive, and in return, a young girl had emerged from the Cauldron. Nimue, The Radiant, the daughter of the king, created by the Cauldron.

Nimue knew all this because in the depths of her bones, and only when she let her guard down, she felt the despair of her mother when she was submerged. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could feel her own muscles dissolving, melting, the bones crunching and bursting, the muffled screams, the life of the poor woman extinguishing.

That only filled her with rage. A rage that boiled inside her, in every fiber of her being. Sometimes she let it grow, let it spread through every drop of her blood, like poison disguised in wine: she shaped it to her liking, gave it the form she wanted. She shaped her rage into swords, laying waste to entire legions with her rage, burning entire forests with her rage...

One could only imagine that in the face of such destruction, her "father" would be angry. No one wanted a daughter who killed hundreds of soldiers every time she trained. However, the reaction was completely opposite: a smile, some congratulations, a pat on the back, a kiss on the forehead, a small hug...

Small displays of affection that Nimue drank as if she were dying of thirst. After all, he was her "father".

Children are meant to make their parents proud. Or that's what she told herself every night before falling asleep.

She stopped abruptly before finishing her last set of exercises and looked up.

Above her, in the corridor surrounding that enclosed training ground, courtiers of her father, guards, servants, people who stopped to admire her if they had the time, kept passing by. Sometimes they made comments about the natural grace with which her movements seemed to defy gravity itself. Every gesture of hers was fluid and harmonious, as if she were in perfect harmony with the universe around her. It was so, because after all, the world around her had come from the Cauldron. And she was the Cauldron.

Sometimes, however, they made comments about the monster the King had created. An aberration.

With a flick of her wrist, her weapon disappeared into the air, she spun around, and left that training ground. She walked through the halls of the Palace, navigating intersections and crossing doors until she reached the very center of her home. The great stone cavern where the throne was situated. Even before entering, she could hear the voice of the King, and without entering the room, she listened.

"My patience is running out, filthy rats. If you don't know how to do your job, I'll have you thrown to the nagas, and let them do whatever they please with you, you pack of useless scoundrels."

Nimue entered the cavern, her gaze forward and her chin high, those airs of superiority she knew belonged to her. She walked among those present, who made way for her, feeling the hairs on their necks stand at attention in the presence of the princess. With a determined step, she approached her father, who only raised and lowered his eyebrows in response.

"What's the problem, father?" Oh, that mask of innocent girl that many swallowed. She might even dare say that sometimes, the King himself took her for naive, for innocent. When she was anything but, far from it.

She carefully observed the situation: before her father, and kneeling before the steps of the throne, were four of the six spies she knew her father had designated in Prythian, specifically in the Night Court. Among them, two bodies completely mutilated, almost unrecognizable. However, Nimue recognized them as the other two spies that were missing. She lifted her head and let the smell of blood penetrate her nose, savoring it on her palate. That's when she noticed the slightest hint of cedar and mist. She frowned and looked at her father.

"It's nothing, my sweet child. I'm just dealing with these useless ones," the King turned sharply towards those men, who, under the scrutiny of father and daughter, only sank deeper into their shame. With their heads bowed to the ground, they trembled so much that Nimue could hear the chatter of their teeth. "Do your job and find out everything. Everything. And if you have to kill that petty High Lord, you will."

Nimue did everything to hide her smile. She knew those four useless men stood no chance against that High Lord her father spoke of. She knew, because in the Cauldron, she saw the shadow of Rhysand: a vast pit, as deep as the greatest of lakes, and as black as darkness itself, so dark that Nimue saw her own scarlet eyes reflected in it.

By the Mother, Nimue doubted if her own father, without the aid of the Cauldron, would be a match for that vast darkness that undulated within High Lord Rhysand.

The King raised his hand, and with a gesture, all those present in the throne room bowed respectfully and left the without a word.

Nimue turned, ready to leave, but the King pointed at her and shook his finger. With the same hand, he made a gesture, as if pulling on a leash.

A leash that Nimue had worn around her neck since she had been torn from the Cauldron, and whose end her father held, with an iron grip. It was invisible, but when she even thought about how happy it would make her to leave the confines of the Palace, to see the world, she felt its weight around her neck, as if the King was her executioner and the leash his axe.

"Yes, father?" Her tone, completely compliant, made a fleeting smile cross the King's face.

"You will fight for me in this war, won't you, my dear?" he asked, voice so poisonous she almost gagged. Nimue felt her blood boil, her rage consuming her. "You will fight for me and win for me. I will release you onto the battlefield and you will descend upon them like rain upon dry earth. You will sow the fields with their blood, because that's what I've made you for, my Radiant jewel."

The marks of her nails digging into her palms turned into wounds, and when her magic closed them, she clenched her fists again, reopening them.

"Yes, father. I will be your weapon."

She felt the leash loosen, and with a pleased smile on his face, her father gave her permission to leave.

When she was out of the King's sight, Nimue imagined the thousand ways she would slit that old, rotten man's throat.

Azriel let out a sigh, his own breath forming clouds in front of his face.

What was that pressure in his chest? Where was all that irrational rage coming from, burning his chest and taking his breath away?

His shadows swirled around his shoulders, buzzing and whispering to each other.

He did everything he could, searching in the depths of his being for the calm he needed at that moment.

Yes, rage, rage. We are furious.

Yes, that's it, furious.

Azriel clicked his tongue and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the incessant fluctuations of his shadows. He seemed like a horse shaking itself to get rid of the flies that tormented it so much.

"What's troubling you?" Cassian asked. A playful smile on his face while his gaze was fixed on some point in the city spread out before them. "It seems like your shadows are giving you a hard time."

"Never," Azriel replied without hesitation. He sighed again, rubbing his chest with one hand, right where that pressure seemed like it was about to pierce his body. "I feel like hitting something, someone. But it's not my desire, it feels strange."

Cassian burst into laughter as he leaned on the balcony rail. He closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into that brief moment of peace and enjoying the sunlight, before turning to look at his lifelong brother.

"I think we should call Madja. The spirit of Amren seems to have gotten into you and we'll have to get rid of it before you start giving us all dirty looks," he said, with a serious expression all of a sudden.

Azriel looked at him, raising an eyebrow and then sighing, ignoring the usual delusions of the Illyrian.

Both let the topic pass when they heard footsteps coming from inside the house. Cassian crossed the balcony threshold first, and while Azriel enjoyed a few last seconds of calm and sunshine before going back inside, he felt a pain in the palms of his hands. Stabbing, throbbing.

How strange, it had been a long time since the old scars on his hands had caused him sudden discomfort.

He would ask Madja for some ointment.

Because that's what it was, right?

As Cassian and Morrigan's voices echoed in the dining room, Azriel continued to prolong that moment of stability as much as he could. He felt like he was on the edge of a precipice, about to take a step forward without looking at what lay beyond. So as long as he could, he would enjoy those rays of sunshine, that scent of home, those views of the city they were rebuilding after Hybern's attack, hearing his friends laugh, and knowing that this was his place.

He went over the plan day and night since he and his family had conceived it: arrive, enter, break the Cauldron, and get out of there before the King even realized that they had snuck in.

It was perfect. There were variables, of course, but for the hundreds of unforeseen events Azriel had imagined, hundreds of solutions had been devised. It was perfect, and he trusted the plan.

But he felt so out of sorts...

Rage, it consumes us. It burns us.

Rage, rage.

It wasn't him, it wasn't his rage. He felt his own skin, his body, filled with emotions that weren't his. Like a container of some chemical mixture about to explode.

By the Mother, maybe he had eaten something strange at yesterday's dinner. Or perhaps it was the wine afterward, or maybe the countless drinks that followed at Rita's...

Because that's what it was, right?

#azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar fic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian #rhysand #azriek x female!reader

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gretavangroupie · 2 months

Text

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 9)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader, Jake Kiszka, x OC

Word Count: 17.6k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Lying, Allusions to cheating, Deceit, Arguing, Yelling, Mental and Emotional Manipulation, Vulnerability, Kissing and Sexual Themes.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

A/N: The final chapter! Thanks so much for sticking this one out with us. Major shout out to @gretavanmoon who bore the brunt of this last chapter as I experienced some mental burnout. This wouldn't have happened without her fierce dedication to this story. I hope you love the end of this story, and keep your eye out for what we are cooking up next.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

JAKE POV

Your clenched fists are still resting on the cold metal elevator doors, your forehead falling down to join them. Fuck. Fuck fuck…everything is fucking ruined for real, now. Why did you have to let your urges get the best of you last night? Everything you could have had…

Your fists pound a few more times as you hear a commotion in the hallway behind you, realizing that a few people had now joined you in the quiet corridor. You pull away from the elevator doors to gather your thoughts, the rage rushing through your bloodstream as you pace the hardwood floors. You’re mad. You’re so fucking mad. At everyone, and at everything. But mostly, you’re disappointed in yourself.

“What the fuck do I do now?” you murmur as the strangers board the elevator, giving you a few tight smiles and nods as the doors close on them. You feel like you could take on a hundred men, let your fists fly and your tongue shoot daggers at anyone who dared walk past you. But you know that’s not you. It’s just the adrenaline, the disappointment, the regret…

Angry tears are pricking at your eyes as you rush back to the room, feeling as if you could walk right through the wall. This is it, it’s all over. No more. It’s done.

You force the door open and hear it hit the wall behind it, finding Isla still wrapped up in the bed sheets as she stands beside the bed, your phone in her hand.

“Isla, what the fuck are you doing?” you shout, feeling your face grow hot. Her mouth is gaping open, the look on her face one you’re oh-so familiar with. “Is that my phone?”

She turns the screen to face you, showing you the photo that you had taken of Y/N in that not so innocent position a couple of weeks ago, with yourself buried inside her. You rip the phone from her hand, completely embarrassed for yourself, and for her.

“Real fucking classy, Jacob. And I went through your texts with her, too! What the fuck?! You were lying to me all along ! This whole time!” she screams, pulling the sheets up over her chest.

You can hardly see straight. Your vision is blurry and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your hands go numb and you feel your face absolutely burning with wild rage.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Isla?!” You scream, feeling as if your voice isn’t your own. You squeeze your phone in your hand before launching it across the room, watching as it smacks hard against the wall, leaving a mark in the drywall before it falls to the wooden floor.

“That is a complete invasion of privacy! I did not give you permission to do that! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you shout, letting your hands come up and cover your eyes. You can’t even bear to look at her anymore. “You know what? Get out. Get the fuck out of my room. Now.”

Your chest is heaving and you can hear her starting to mope, letting out exasperated breaths as you hear her throw the sheets back onto the bed. You finally uncover your eyes but you still can’t see straight, you’re so blinded with rage. You busy yourself with whatever the fuck you can do while Isla gets dressed, haphazardly throwing her things into her bag as she barks out bursts of bitchiness again.

“How fucking could you, Jake? After all we had, after all this… I came here for you, you slept with me, and now I find out you’ve been fucking her all along?!”

“I told you I was sleeping with her, Isla! Goddamnit! You asked, and I told you… I don’t know what the fuck else you want me to say. I didn’t… I didn’t mean for last night to happen, you know that always fucking happens with us, and I regret it, already. All of it…”

You hear the sobs come through her nose as she stuffs her things in her bags. “Where the fuck do you want me to go Jake?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t know. I don’t really care, at this point. I didn’t even invite you here,” you shoot back, almost defeatedly.

She huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Just like you… have sex with me, really good sex with me… then toss me away after. That’s all you’ve ever wanted me for, anyway. Just a good fuck. Nothing’s ever gonna change with you, is it? You’re always gonna be a fucking jerk…” she rambles, reigniting that flame in your chest. You step closer to her, close enough to feel her breath on your face.

“Don’t you ever accuse me of that, Isla,” you growl through gritted teeth. “Do not ever fucking take it there. That could not be further from the truth, and you fucking know it.” If you weren’t blind with rage before, you sure as hell are now, accusing you of only ever wanting her for that.

She picks up her phone and taps around the screen. “You’re the love of my life, Jake. But I swear to god I question why I’m even with you every single day…” she pulls the phone up to her ear.

“We aren’t together, Isla! You need to get that through your head!” you yell, raising your hands up in the air. “Please, get the fuck out of my room!”

She puts her phone onto speaker and you hear Lyla’s voice on the other end.

“Hey, Ly? I’m coming to your room. What’s the number?” you hear her throw on her fake tears as she speaks. She throws her bag strap over her shoulder as she brushes past you. “No, I’m not fine, I just need to get the fuck away from him for a minute.”

A minute… A minute?!

Is this ever going to fucking end?

On her last word, the door slams in your face. You stand in the middle of the room, catching the breath that you’d essentially been holding for the past five minutes. You can feel a cold sweat beading up on your face as you replay everything that happened and all the horrible decisions you’ve made. The look on Y/N’s face just now… All of it came rushing back as you felt so out of control of your life, you nearly blacked out with regret. Regret for even saying yes to that date with Isla all those years ago. Regret for allowing her to stay here this long, and using her as a toy to make Y/N jealous. But mostly for what you did last night. Stupid, stupid.

The thought of having sex with her last night churns your stomach, and that’s how you know for a fact that you never want to have her in that way ever again. No matter how well you mesh together in that capacity. The way you feel when you’re with Y/N trumps it altogether, the emotions she drags from you outshining everything you ever had with Isla by a landslide.

Suddenly, things make a little bit of sense. Suddenly, a tiny bit of clarity hits your swirling mind. You feel as though you could harness all of the negative feelings harboring themselves within you right now, march downstairs and find Y/N, throwing everything to the wayside as you confess your feelings for her. Tell her exactly how you feel. God damnit, do you…? No, the feeling is too strong. It’s more than that. It’s an overwhelming feeling of respect for everything that she is, everything that she ever will be. All the beauty she naturally carries and the pride she has within herself. And you’re fucking whipped for her.

But you don’t even deserve to give her that satisfaction. She deserves the world. She deserves you at your best, rid of all your demons and baggage and horrible moods. And way deep down, deeper than it’s even comfortable enough to think about, you know that Murph is probably giving that to her. He’s probably giving her fun, and comfort, and making her laugh… He’s probably loving her just the way she should be loved, the way you could be loving her.

That realization doesn’t help the fact that you feel like pressing your boot against his face, though.

You walk over and pick your phone up from the floor, already expecting the worst. It’s cracked and damaged, the screen resembling a perfect spider web on the corner. “Goddamnit,” you breathe as you fall back down onto the bed. Just as you’re catching your breath, the alarm on your phone goes off, letting you know that you have a smooth fifteen minutes to get dressed and downstairs to meet the rest of the guys to head to soundcheck.

You wonder what Y/N is doing right now. Is she crying, still? Or is she with Murph, letting him comfort her for something he has absolutely nothing to do with? The whole thing puts another sickening feeling in your stomach as you run your hand over your face, knowing that you need to take the fastest shower known to man.

Your phone dings with another notification, and you’re surprised the thing even wants to make noise right now. You look down to see Josh’s name in the groupchat. You carefully slide your thumb across the shattered screen, cursing yourself for not putting a protector on it while you had the chance.

Josh

9:46AM: Good morning bitches! It’s a beautiful day! Get your asses downstairs

You roll your eyes at his positivity as you drag your body up to stand. As you make your way into the bathroom and start the shower, you hear your phone sound with a different notification.

The screen is lit up with something that used to bring you so much joy, but now seems to be a vessel for communication that sends a wave of sadness straight to your gut.

‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

A song you hadn’t even thought about since high school, ‘Don’t Speak’ by No Doubt.

She didn’t want to talk. This is her way of telling you to stay away.

You let your phone fall back down onto the counter as you listen to the song play out, already dreading the fact that your day is only going to get much, much worse.

—

HER POV

Your entire body feels numb as you rush out of the elevator door, your eyes blurred and sticky from fighting back tears once again.

How fucking could he? Is everyone lying to you? He must really still love Isla, nothing makes any fucking sense…

You’re pacing down the ground floor hall to your room, hoping to the heavens that you don’t run into anyone along the way. You bring your hands up to cover your face, your frozen fingertips burning against the warmth of your face. It’s almost as if the rage you feel has manifested itself, ready to fly free as you replay the scene you’d just walked in on over and over in your mind.

Isla is so gorgeous… perfect in every sense of the word. Of course he slept with her, how could he not? The look on his face once he realized it was you washed over you again and again, embarrassed and ashamed, already mourning every single thought of what could have been.

You didn’t want to see him. You didn’t want to speak to him. Ever again. You pulled out your phone and pulled up the music app, opening your shared playlist and adding the only song that you can think of at the time that would get straight to the point of telling him not to bother you anymore. Don’t Speak.

It felt sudden, it felt jolting… especially considering the rollercoaster of emotions the two of you had shared since he made this playlist on the plane. So many ups and downs in so little time. You had to give him that, at least. He’s made you feel more than anyone else has in a long, long time.

Like an old friend you truly didn’t want to see, someone presented themselves in front of you, grabbing at your arms with their strong, steady hands. Even through the blurriness of your tears and the racking of sobs in your chest, you knew that it was Ezra.

“Baby, whoa whoa, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he begged as you cursed him for happening to find you in the hallway. “Come here, why are you crying?” he asks, trying his best to take you in his arms.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, Murph. I just– I’m fine, promise!” You try to play it off by sounding more sincere than the situation constituted, but there was no way you could divulge the actual reason for your unhappiness.

“No you aren’t, baby… Tell me, you want me to walk you back to your room?” he purred, his normally gruff voice now calm and comforting.

“No, I swear, I’m just having a moment. But thank you, I’m–I’m almost there, anyway…” his arms were gently wrapped around you as you finally met his eyes, pleading and full of so much worry that it almost made you cry even harder. This sweet, sweet man, caring so much as to stop what he was doing and console you.

The two of you walk a few paces more in the direction you’d been headed, his body language telling you that he was still yet very concerned. “You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, his deep brown eyes scanning yours.

You purse your lips, using both hands to wipe away the remnant tears as you try to dry yourself up. “I just… can’t.”

He nods slowly, “Alright, babe.” He cups your face, using both thumbs to wipe away your tears as he bends down to your level. “You don’t have to tell me… let’s just get you back inside, okay?”

You nod, letting him pull you further down the hall. “This the room?” he asks.

“Yeah, this one here,” you say as you pull your room key from your pocket. You unlock and open the door, wanting nothing more than to crash into the room and cry alone in peace. Murph stands at the doorway, not wanting to be too forward and let himself all the way in, all the while still wearing that horrified look of worry.

You turn to him, placing a soft hand to his chest. “Thanks, Murph. I promise, I’m fine. I’m just being a girl, ya know. Hormones and stress and whatnot,” you lie, making you feel the strangest sense of guilt.

His soft smile makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, his strong arms reaching all the way around you and embracing you in a warm and comforting hug. “I had a really good time, last night. Been thinkin’ about you all morning, thought about you all night…” he says softly. “Just kinda threw me for a loop when I saw you crying, after I left you that note I just thought–”

“Well you thought wrong,” you interrupted him. “That was the sweetest thing to wake up to. I was actually really upset that you’d left so early…”

He smiles again, this time with a bit more relief. “Really? I mean, I’m sorry… duty called and I just couldn’t wake you up. You looked so pretty and peaceful,” his words are soft as he pulls a few strands of hair behind your ear. “You sure you aren’t mad at something I did? You don’t regret last night?”

You shake your head, feeling a little clarity. “No. No regrets.” His sweetness makes you want to melt into a puddle. You’ve really never had someone show affection in the same manner as Murph. “I’ll see you later?” you ask as he steps back from the threshold.

“Yeah, babe. Hope you feel better.” And with a sweet wink, he’s disappearing back down the hall.

You feel hysterical as you fall face-first into your bed sheets, letting the tears you held back find their place in your eyes once again. You don’t really deserve to cry, as you’ve found another route of happiness in Murph, but still yet, you allow yourself to be upset at the fact that Jake had the audacity to be intimate with Isla again after so much time telling you how much he didn’t want her anymore.

So you cried, for a long while you cried… before you decided all of your tears were being wasted on something you had no business being upset about. You drag yourself from the bed and begin running a bath, throwing in a few pumps of body wash to make a bubble bath. You toss your clothes onto the floor and test the temperature, finding it to be perfectly scalding hot.

As you let your muscles sink down into the velvety smooth bubbles and hot water, you realize that you haven’t even told Ruth about your night with Murph, yet. You dial a FaceTime call, propping your phone safely behind a few bottles as you cover your exposed self with the white fluffy bubbles.

“Hey bitch. Oh my god, are you naked?!” she wails when you finally see her face lighting up the screen.

“No, Ruth, I have my clothes on in the bathtub. Yes, I’m naked you idiot,” you reply with a laugh as you pull your hair on top of your head.

“Ugh, I love you but I don’t love you that much. Anyway, what’s up? Why is your face red?” she asks as she crunches down on a baby carrot.

You just stare at her on the screen, waiting for her to read your mind.

“Have you been crying? You’ve been crying, why? What happened? Assface Jerkhead Guitar boy? Don’t tell me Muscles Van Gorgeous made you mad… which one? Which one’s life am I sabotaging?” she asked in succession, making a smile find your face for the first time in a day.

“Neither Ruth, neither…” you sighed. “I just… I finally hooked up with Murph last night.”

“Oh my GOD! You’re kidding. Fuck yes, okay… how was it? Where? After the concert?” she asks as she adjusts herself in her seat and pulls her feet up underneath her.

“Yes, after the concert. We had an excellent time… and I managed to make Jake jealous, somehow. He was with Isla of course, and I guess he saw me and Murph getting comfy and he fucking texted me, Ruth. Asking me what the hell I thought I was doing?” Your hand flew up into the air above the bubbles as you spoke. “Anyway, I ignored him. And me and Murph kinda… had a rendezvous in his truck in the parking garage of the hotel.”

“You sly bitch…” she growls cutting her eyes. “Okay, and how was it? Was he everything you ever dreamed of?”

You nodded hard. “Yeah, he was…” you filled your cheeks up with air. “Fucking great, honestly. He’s so nice and sweet, but I could tell he has another side about him, ya know?”

“He a freak, ain’t he? Tell me he a freakkkkk, Y/N…”

You laugh. “I don’t know about that, but he definitely isn’t vanilla, thank god. Anyway umm… So this morning, I remembered that Jake added a song to the playlist last night that was basically saying he didn’t want to fight. And I didn’t either. So I decided that I would go and try to clear the air with him while Isla was there, there was no way I was going to leave things like they were. So, I went down into the lobby and got coffee for him and Isla. I was just going to drop it off and do my due diligence and apologize… leave it at that so they could go on with their lives.”

“You got her a coffee?! Okay, ballsy! I hope you spit in it…”

“RUTH ANN! Take that back!” you yell, letting it echo through the bathroom.

She shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. Continue…”

“Annnnnyways, Isla opened the door, and she was standing there, half naked and wrapped up in their bedsheets. Jake was um. Getting dressed behind her.” You feel a bit sorry for yourself as you pick up some bubbles in your palm, blowing them into the air and watching as they fall, joining the others in the sea of soapy white suds.

“That dog.” Ruth growls. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“So what did you do?” she asks, sounding a bit defeated herself as she cupped her chin in her hands.

You sigh hard as you rub your wet hands over your face. “I put the coffees down, stormed off, added “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt to the playlist so he would get the message to leave me the hell alone, and then Murph found me in the hall. Saw me crying. Thought he’d done something wrong.”

“No, not my sweetums Erza! He could never! Did you tell him he was perfect and beautiful and kiss him?”

You laugh at her ability to always keep things so lighthearted. “Yes, well kind of. I told him that I was just being a crazy woman with crazy woman feelings. Bless his heart, he is the actual sweetest. Anyways, now I’m calling you.”

“So, you’re pissed. And you’re crying. So what are we gonna do?” she presses.

You sigh, your mind traveling a million miles a minute as you wish you could just pull the drain and let yourself flow down the pipes with your bathwater. “I don’t know, Ruth. I tried, I really did.”

“Okay, here’s the plan,” she brushes her hands against one another. “Murph has done nothing wrong, right? He’s innocent, here. Maybe he deserves all of your attention.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to even associate with the male species right now, Ruth! I hate them all,” you bellow through a fake forced laugh.

“Okay. So just keep doing your job and try your best and just see how everything goes. But don’t be a bitch to Murphy, he gives good D and we want to keep that momentum,” she says.

You cover your face with your hands again. “Ruth, I swear to god… Ugh. Listen, I have to get out of here and get dressed. See what other fresh hell awaits me at this next show.”

“Ok, boss. Clean it up, add more feminine energy songs onto the playlist. Maybe some Alanis Morrissette or Fiona Apple perhaps? Little Miranda Lambert? Let him know that you are a bad bitch that don’t need no man?”

“I’m hanging up Ruth! Love you!”

“Adios, whore!!!” she yells back as you reach up and press the red button, taking a breath before pulling the plug of the tub. You realize it’s time to put on your game face, deciding that making it through these next few shows without another damned argument was going to prove more difficult than you anticipated.

—

JAKE POV

Though your mind feels like mush, your hands feel like they’re razor sharp, going through the motions of soundcheck with ease. Sam’s only shot you a couple of side-eyes as he apparently has picked up on your bad mood, but you hope that he brushes it off.

You’d spent the majority of soundcheck eyeballing the crew from behind your tinted glasses, watching as Murph is hovering a lot differently than he normally is. That’s interesting…

Your suspicions are justified as you watch Y/N walk past him in a hurry, and his entire body lights up as he turns into her, resting his hand quickly on her lower waist as she giggles and pulls his hand away. Nail, meet coffin.

Fuck. Yeah. They…

Danny was right. They definitely slept together. You can see it in their body language. God damnit.

But, what the hell are you gonna say? You have no dog in that fight. You think about asking her about it, being transparent in the matter, now knowing that she knows you slept with Isla. You truly think about it as you slip your guitar strap over your head and hand it back to your tech, watching her intently from across the large room as she does her duties.

“Hey, man. C’mere a second,” you hear Sam’s hushed voice in your ear. You’re snapped from your thoughts as you follow behind him, wondering what the hell he needs to talk about. He turns to make sure you’re behind him and you flash him a puzzled look, so he lifts his hand up and nods for you to just follow.

You follow him to the side doors and outside, watching as he stands with his back against the wall of the building. He fishes his hand in his pocket and pulls out his smokes, lighting one and inhaling a puff more quickly than he usually would. You close in on him, his eyes working to search around to make sure you’re alone. He looks a bit anxious as he offers you a hit.

“What’s up?” you ask him, your heart rate picking up a little as you lift your sunglasses to your head. His face is contorted and panicked, something you rarely see out of him, especially right before a show. “You alright?”

His smoke blows quickly from in front of his face as you inhale some yourself. “Yeah, ahh, no… not really? Need your advice again, I think… Remember when I busted into your room that night drunk off my ass and chattering on about… ya know….”

You nod slowly, recounting the night all too well. “I remember.”

He clenches his jaw together as his eyes continue to scan. “It’s gotten worse, man. I dunno, Lyla is just… urgh, she’s grating on my nerves. I don’t know what it is lately, but it’s like we’re suddenly two completely different people. We argue a lot, we never agree on anything… She's one person with me, and a complete other in front of everyone else. She makes me feel so guilty, man. Wants to settle down and start a family and shit when that was the first thing we talked about when we got together, that I can’t promise that stuff right now. She makes me resent myself, our careers, being with you guys… I get no support whatsoever, anymore. And it always feels like she’s hiding something from me. Completely different wavelengths. And it’s like I don’t even wanna be around her… I swear I’ve kinda almost lost…”

“Lost all attraction to her?” you finish for him.

He nods. “Yeah. Exactly. Isn’t that awful of me? Like why did this happen out of nowhere?”

You ponder his question, sympathizing with him more than he even knows. “It probably didn’t come out of nowhere, Sam. It’s probably been festering for a while.” You eye him as you pass his cigarette back.

He shuffles his feet around as the wind picks up. “Is this how you feel with Isla?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, kinda, but worse. Like, way, way worse. And I kinda fucked it up even more last night…” you admit, suddenly feeling like you had to tell somebody.

“Oh no, what did you do?”

You swallow harshly, the memories of your lips all over her body last night now making you feel sick all over again. You look back up to him with eager, telling eyes.

“No, Jake. You didn’t. You slept with her? After all–”

“Yeah, Sam, fuck. I did. It was a complete moment of weakness. I swear, I don’t know what it is about her, but she lures me back in every single fucking time, and I hate it. I swear, I hate it. I hate myself for it. But it happened, and I regret everything about it. And then Y/N fucking had to walk into my room this morning and see Isla half fucking naked…”

“Ohhhh my god, no!” Sam yells with a little bit of a smile on his face, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “You’re kidding me, wow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, laugh all you want. I royally fucked everything up so horribly I don’t even know what to do with myself,” you wave a hand in his face as you physically feel the pressure on your shoulders.

“Damn,” he finally relents, “You are worse off than I am. Sorry.”

You take a deep breath, shaking away the negative thoughts and feelings. “S’alright, I guess.”

“You ever think that Ly and Isla are like, master conspirators but also just like… are trying to lock us down or something?” he asks, his question actually throwing you for a loop.

“What do you mean?” you ask, running the dead cigarette butt along the concrete to extinguish it.

“I don’t know. Since we’ve been on this tour, don’t you feel like things have changed with those two? I mean they’ve been best friends since they could walk, and everything with you and Isla back home, now she is acting almost just the same? Doesn’t it feel a little bit strange to you? Almost like they plan on making sure of the fact that they’re going to be here for the long haul?” he says. The thought hadn’t really crossed your mind, much, but now that he mentions it…

Sam always has had a way with seeing the end results of a situation before they even play out, picking up on people’s intentions before they even portray them. It kind of all makes sense, though. The two of them planning Isla’s trip here behind your backs, both of them being extremely needy but ignorant to the fact that you and Sam are inherently becoming more and more unhappy, not caring one bit about the state of your wants and needs…

It suddenly all makes sense.

“Have you been being careful, Sam…” you say without an ounce of question in your voice.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Good. I think you might be onto something… some stupid master plan that they have going, something just feels off,” you say, turning your back to the wind.

“It most definitely does. And honestly, I don’t think Mia has a damn thing to do with it,” he says.

You shake your head. “Me neither.”

“Are we crazy?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“No. I think we should trust our guts. I already told Isla to get the fuck away from me this morning and go find you guys… Who knows where she even ended up,” you move to make your way back inside.

“They ran off. Haven’t seen them since,” he says as he follows you. “I do think you should go and talk to Y/N, though.”

You stop in your tracks, hearing him suggest that. “What? Why?”

“Because, stupid, you really like her. And I really like her. And I’m sorry I caused that big dramatic episode back in Ireland. That was uncalled for. But you should go clear it up, she might appreciate you being forward about it.”

The thought alone makes your joints feel stiff, the dread weighing heavily on you. Maybe you should…

“I think she’s cozied up to Murph, now. Not sure she’d even want to be in my presence if she didn’t have to be,” you whisper as you reenter the main part of the building. Your face grows hot at the mention of Murph’s name, still feeling that deep residual jealousy.

“You might be surprised,” he shrugs. “Seems to me like you guys just used other people for retaliation. That alone has to mean something.”

Just like the universe had stepped in when you needed it least, you turn the corner and run right into Y/N. “Oh, fuck, sorry,” you apologize as she nearly drops the pile of towels in her hands. You watch as Sam walks away behind her, mouthing ‘perfect timing!’.

“Don’t worry about it,” she barks as she tries to keep making her way past you.

“Hey, Y/N,” you stop her, completely unknowing of what the hell you are going to say, but taking Sam’s advice anyway. “Can we… Can I–”

“No, Jake. We can’t. Please leave me alone and let me do my job,” she says with a hint of sadness in her voice, but still enough force that you don’t want to press too much.

You let her pass, watching her as she saunters quickly down the hall. “I miss you, Y/N…” you say, the echo of your voice reverberating off the walls. She slows her pace, and barely turns. If you’re going to say something at all, you’d better say it now. All in the open.

“I fucked up. I fucked up badly. And I’m sorry. There will never be anything I can say to take any of that back. And I know you probably don’t want a damn thing to do with me anymore, and if that’s so, then I can respect it. But I just wanted you to know that, Y/N. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time. You make me crazy. You make me think about things in a way that I’ve never thought about before.” You take a breath as her eyes meet yours, full of hurt and a sorrow that swallows you right up. You take the opportunity to take a few steps toward her, closing the space between you just a little.

“When you’re around I feel a happiness that nothing else in the world can give me, or has ever given me. Nothing compares. And that’s the god’s honest truth. I don’t– I don’t let people get to me, Y/N. But ever since you came into my life there was nothing I could do about it. You knocked me down. And I know that you’ve… moved on, from…whatever this was. And, I get that… just know that I am so sorry. And I’ve found clarity, and even if you decide that I’m worthless to you, just know that you always meant more to me than I was ever able to explain.”

The hall is silent as your rambling comes to an abrupt halt, the feelings of defeat and hopefulness simultaneously taking up space in your chest. Her eyes are still deep and hollow, and you watch as her lip quivers just a little as she glances at the gap still between you. Her eyes shoot to the ground as her hand comes up to wipe a stray tear away. “Have a good show, Jake.”

—

A while later, you’re gathered in the jam room strumming on an acoustic as your eyes are focused on nothing at all, the air drying out your corneas so harshly that you have to remind yourself to blink every minute or so. You’ve replayed your conversation, well, speech, to Y/N earlier in the hall probably over a hundred times now, wishing you had said other things, explained a little differently, scooped her up in your arms and told her she is everything you have ever wanted and more…

But the thoughts become interrupted every few minutes as Josh would yell something particularly loudly or Danny would hit a hi-hat a bit too harshly.

“Hey,” Josh says as he’s suddenly in your bubble, snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Staring contest with the wall?”

“Yeah, and I’m fucking losing,” you say as you twist the guitar down to rest on the floor. You bring your thumb and fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose, realizing that you need to start getting your energy up a bit so as not to make a fool of yourself on stage when the time comes.

“You gonna make it? Want me to slap you across the face a bit? I could ask Ty to, it works for me, sometimes…” he offers with a chuckle.

You smile, knowing that you quite literally do need a physical slap in the face right now. “Nah, thanks though. Probably just need a stiff shot of a spirit or two.” You pull your battered phone from your pocket to check the time.

“Mother of god, what happened to your phone?!” Josh yells, pulling it down to inspect it. You give him a tight smile and raise your eyebrows. “Fuck, did things get bad again?”

You inhale sharply, “Oh yeah. Really bad. Caught her going through my phone and my texts. Sent me over the edge, obviously.”

“Shit,” he breathes. “You break it, or did she?”

“I did. Threw it at the fucking wall,” you laugh at yourself, and the stupid memory.

“She see anything incriminating?”

“You don’t even wanna know what she fucking saw…” you shake your head, hearing another commotion as Mia, Lyla and Isla all three enter the room. Just the feeling of Isla’s presence sends a cold chill over your body, one that’s full of some of the deepest unexplainable distaste for someone that you have ever felt. “Well, if it isn’t the Three Musketeers!” you announce spitefully, shoving your guitar into its stand. You’re met with Josh’s eyes the size of dinner plates.

You feel fire rushing through your veins as you realize your body is putting up a protective barrier for itself, a defense so definite that you feel like you are outside of your own body as your legs carry you to stand right in front of Isla.

“Why are you here? I thought I made it very clear that I told you to stay away from me,” you spit, uncaring that you are about to do this in front of everyone.

She scoffs, crossing her arms and avoiding your eyes. “You didn’t mean that, Jake. Come on.”

“Oh, I meant it. I meant every single word. Actually, why are you even here? Why did you follow me to Europe when before I left I told you to please vacate my home, and not contact me?” you bark, feeling a confident fire rising within your chest as the words fell like a venomous poison.

The room is dead silent.

“Jake, quit messing around, are you really doing this right now?” she avoids your gaze again, and you know that you are getting to her. She’s normally held very true to being able to hold eye contact, even when she’s lying.

“Yeah. Yes. I’m really doing this right now. We’re all family here, huh? Let’s talk about it in a place where you can’t twist my words, where you can’t manipulate me into thinking I’m crazy, hmm?” you say, earning another scoff from her. “Did I not ask you to please move out, to please not contact me, to please understand that I wanted to end this relationship?”

She rolls her eyes and her tongue around in her mouth as her body language stiffens. “You told me you wanted a break, not to break up…”

“Oh but I did, Isla. You just decided that that break, that I agreed to simply to get you off my back so I could leave my house to get on a fucking plane, mind you… ended exactly when you wanted it to end. Without any conversation with me on said subject. Isn’t that right?” You are reeling, your words are absolutely burning your mouth, but it’s as though you aren’t speaking them. Your conscience is doing the talking for you. “Who said you got to make that decision on your own?”

“Jake, please stop, you don’t mean any of this… we had such a good night last night, please!”

“No, Isla! I won’t stop. This is what I want. This is what I have wanted for a long, long time. Does everyone hear me?!” You motion around yourself. “I don’t want you around me, I don’t want you in my home when I get back to it, I didn’t invite you here, and everything that has happened between us since you got here has been a mistake. A horrible mistake that has done nothing but ruin everything for me. Do I need to be any clearer? Or do I need to write it down for you?” Your chest is heaving with rage, and pride in yourself.

You glance around to everyone else again, still completely silent as you watch Isla’s face finally drop. “Is that crystal clear to everyone?” You feel all of their heads nodding slowly in agreement. “Good, great. Isla, is that clear?” you ask her directly.

Finally, finally… she nods. “Yeah, fucking crystal, Jake. I won’t bother you ever again. Good luck fucking up your whole career…” she says as Lyla rips her out of the room by the arm, toting her along.

“We won’t let him! Because that’s what family does! We support each other!” Sam yells at the both of them as they exit the door. After he speaks, he meets your eyes with the biggest stupid grin on his face, as if he was seeing if you heard him. You hear a snicker from Ty and Josh.

Alright, maybe this went better than you thought it would.

The tension in the room seems to subside a little as everyone catches their breath. “Mia, do you want to follow them?” you ask as she cozies up to Danny’s side.

She shakes her head. “No. I’m staying here.” Danny kisses the top of her head and sends you a grateful smile.

“Good. Okay then.”

Just then you hear someone clear their throat from the doorway, breaking all of your attention away to see Y/N standing there, somewhat awkwardly.

“Um, sorry. Sam, Danny, they need you back in sound for a second,” she announces, clasping her hands behind her back. You watch as they both stand from their seats to head that way, Mia, Josh and Ty following closely behind to give you the room.

It’s tense for a second as the two of you stand eye to eye, neither of you daring to speak first. Still riding on your confident high from the seconds prior, you decide to be the one to break the ice.

“How much did you hear?”

She clears her throat again. “Enough.”

You lick your lips as you sit back down on the couch, replacing your guitar on your lap. “Sorry you had to see all that drama.”

“It’s okay,” she says, slowly making her way toward you and taking the opposite seat on the couch. “I think… I had some time to think about what you said earlier…”

“Oh?” you ask, strumming away.

“Yeah. I was upset this morning, Jake. I can’t believe you… after everything you told me about her, and your relationship, you slept with her…”

“Yeah, and you just saw I admitted that was a grave mistake. I have absolutely no excuse for that, Y/N. There is nothing I can say to explain my behavior, other than a delicious mix of alcohol, old habits, being too fucking horny to function, and so insanely jealous of seeing you with Murph that I didn’t even care what the hell happened to me next.”

She stays quiet as your tune fills the awkward silence in the air.

“Just tell me you slept with him, Y/N. Rip off the bandaid, just tell me so I can process it and get it over with,” you beg, your voice flat and blank as you finally make eye contact with her.

“Yeah, I did. I slept with him,” she says.

You nod slowly as you begin your staring contest with the wall again, your fingers aimlessly traveling across your familiar strings as your heart plummets to the floor. “Was it for retaliation?”

“No, Jake, I– It wasn’t. I like Ezra, he treats me really well, and we get along–”

“Oh, Ezra, huh?! We’re on a first name basis, now. Interesting…” you say with probably a little too much bite.

“Oh don’t fucking start, Jake,” she complains. “You have no leg to stand on, right now…”

You hold up a defensive hand. “I’m not starting, I’m not arguing,” you continue playing, speaking softly. “I understand why you did what you did, and I’m in no place to have an opinion on something that isn’t my business, right sweetheart?”

She nods. “Right.”

Her radio buzzes, announcing ten minutes to stage. You laugh through your nose at the horrible timing, standing as you place your acoustic on the stand again. You turn to her, taking her chin in your hand as you peer deeply into her eyes. “I’ll be here when you realize he can’t give you what I can. When you realize you can’t stay away from me… When you realize everything I ever said was true, and that I’ll grovel at your feet until time stands still if it’ll make you realize the depth of my feelings for you.” You give her flushed face a couple shakes before you release it, stepping toward the doorway. “My wine’s in my bag, baby. Don’t let me down again.”

And with that, you race down the hallway, hearing the sound of your fans screaming your name, ready to give them, and her, the show of a lifetime.

HER POV

If there was any character in the entire world who made you feel as if you wanted to spout obscenities while clawing at their skin, shove their face into the dirt and curse their very name all in hopes that it will all resurface as an emotion of daunting, ferocious admiration, it would be Jake.

He makes you want to run for the hills and desert life as you know it, not caring for anyone or anything that may be standing in your way as you jump over rocks and roots, swim through deathly waters and starve yourself for days on end if it meant that it would be him waiting for you in those very hills you were running toward. Your relationship has been nothing short of hateful, fervid and passionate, the both of you skirting along the lines of vengeance and intimacy so opposite of one another that the toxicity scares you. Or more, encourages you.

Maybe it took the both of you performing grand acts of backstabbing for you to realize that maybe your feelings for him were more than you thought… Maybe being with another man has given you the push you needed to come to terms with the fact that no one has ever made you feel like Jake does. No one has ever made your heart beat as quickly, or your thoughts jumble so effortlessly. He’d put a spell on you, digging his claws into your skin while he raked you along for the ride, and you had hardly even noticed how deep the claws were. Until you watched him realize that he’d made a horrible, horrible mistake.

Being stuck between a rock and a hard place is an understatement; being in a constant state of back-and-forth with Jake had become somewhat of a habit that you’d gotten used to, no matter how disgustingly painful it was to admit. But Murph… Ezra… the unexpected knight in shining armor who’s charm won you over more smoothly than you’d even realized was the part of the story that made it all worth reading. Wholesome, gorgeous, protective and sweet… he’s everything you could ever want in someone if they planned on sticking around for a while.

But your chest didn’t burn for him the same way..

—

Later that night, after you’d obediently made Jake his wine, you join Ty on the side stage to watch the show in peace. You gave him a hefty rundown of everything that has happened the past few days, much the same as you’d given Ruth, without the dirty details, of course. He gave you much of the same advice that she had, telling you that though Jake would never hurt you on purpose, he knows that he made a mistake and would spend the rest of his days paying for it. It hurt to know that he was working to reassure you how real Jake is truly being with you, still.

“I think I’m really just overwhelmed… I got myself into a mess that I can’t dig myself out of, you know what I mean?” you rant to him as you continued to watch the show. “I’m actually kind of happy the tour is almost over. I managed to get myself tied up in a love triangle that’s truly gotten me nowhere.”

“I dunno about nowhere, I’m not on his team, but Murph must really like you if he’s stuck with you through all this drama…” Ty said. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that Murph didn’t even know about your relationship with Jake.

“Do you think I made a mistake, though? Do you think I pushed Jake away for ever?” you ask him, feigning on that same rocky edge.

“No, babe. You didn’t make any mistakes. Do you not know what you’ve done for Jake? Look at him,” Ty motions toward him as he throws his guitar around. “You helped free him. Even if things don’t work out for you, look at him now. Without the burden of Isla tying him down.” You smirk as you do see a different kind of pep in Jake’s step as he performs his most beloved craft.

Like he can hear your conversation, he looks your way, sending you a sweet smile and a wink as he bites his guitar pick between his front teeth. Even after all this bullshit…

You glance down at Murph, walking around the rail with Josh on his shoulders as he passes out white roses, smiling and interacting with their fans as if they were his own.

God, you don’t deserve either one of them.

The guilt that has begun to eat you up sends another wave over your entire body, weighing heavily on your shoulders as you fight to ignore it.

Do you have to choose? Do you have to pick which one of these two men is more deserving of your love?

“What if I can’t choose?” you ask Ty over your shoulder, your arms crossed protectively over your chest.

“Then don’t. You know what I want, and you know what Josh wants, but you have to put your own happiness first, babe. Maybe you should just choose yourself for a while…” he says, lying a sweet hand of comfort on your elbow.

Ty’s words resonate with you as your guilt brings another tear to your eye; you suddenly realize that you haven’t put your own happiness first in quite some time. The real kind. The genuine kind. Come to think of it, you can’t remember the last time you really felt like your absolute self.

As the show wraps up, you make it a point to disappear on purpose, rushing to clean up the craft table and do your duties under the radar so that you can avoid any more conversation tonight. You retreat back to your room unscathed, ready to take it easy for the rest of the night with a book and a glass of cheap hotel wine.

As you drown yourself in chapter 3 of a book you couldn’t really even name, you glance at your phone lying next to you on the bed, the screen quiet and black as you wonder why you haven’t received even a single text message tonight. Maybe everyone felt that you needed some space.

You poke at the screen to light it up, only finding your clock and lock screen looking back at you. You pick it up and roll to your back, mindlessly scrolling social media for a few minutes to numb your mind. You cringe a little as you see professional photographs from the show tonight already littering your instagram feed, photos of Jake honestly looking happier than he ever has.

‘You helped free him…’

Even if Ty’s words were only said to make you feel better, you can’t help but notice that even the photos from tonight really reflected it. You don’t want to take responsibility for it, but it felt nice to know that you might have played a part in helping him to finally realize he needed to stand up for himself, once and for all.

You open the shared playlist, feeling the draw to add a song that said quite the opposite of the ones Ruth had suggested earlier. You scroll around, finally landing on one of your favorites, ‘Give It Time’ by Sierra Ferrell. You hope that he is comfortably laid in his hotel bed much the same as you, and that he gets the notification and feels a little bit better, knowing that you haven’t completely written him off quite yet. You hoped he would catch the drift that you need to step back for a while, reevaluate and recenter, separating yourself from anything and everything for a bit.

You scroll up to the top of the playlist, deciding to play it through from start to finish. “Interlude 1’, let’s revisit you…” you say to yourself as you turn the volume to medium and lie your head down into the pillows, listening to the lyrics of this otherwise very different song. You know this album is one of Jake’s absolute favorites, so maybe it will help to ease the pounding still rolling around in your chest.

‘Like all good fruit, the balance of life

Is in the ripe and ruin…’

Wow. The ripe and ruin…

As the final sip of wine hits your system, your mind starts to spin and find clarity all at the same time. Suddenly those lyrics started to resonate with you.

Ripe, fully prepared. Ready to endure, ready to uphold, sufficient in readiness.

And ruin, devastation. Pure and utter collapse. The slow disintegration of all the mightiness that once was.

“Fuck..” you breathe in a whisper, running a hand over your eyes as the words settled in and felt real. “Was I the ruin all along? Did I ruin it all for myself?” You press pause on the song, suddenly unwilling to listen to any more.

You flip back over and pick up your phone, bringing up your text thread with Ezra.

You

12:46AM: Hey, can we talk?

You fingers tap nervously as you wait a minute or so before seeing his text bubble appear.

Ezra Murphy

12:49AM: Sure, want me to come to your room or

You

12:50AM: Let’s meet, there’s a really cozy fireplace in the lobby that I feel like I need to sit by

Ezra Murphy

12:50AM: See you in a few :) 🔥

It’s only minutes later that you watch as Ezra’s eyes poke around the room off of the lobby, searching for you and the fireplace. He’s in an old gray t-shirt with some type of worn off black lettering, and a pair of slouchy flannel sleeping pants. He looks absolutely delectable.

When his eyes finally find you, he smiles a little, waltzing over to sit beside you on the stone bench beside the fire.

“Are you wearing slippers, Ezra?” you ask, glancing down to his feet.

“It’s 1:00 AM, of course I wasn’t gonna tie my boots back up. Plus, these are lined with fur, and they’re comfy as hell,” he grins as he kicks his sock-clad foot out for you to see.

You giggle as you pull your knees up to your chest, eyeing him adoringly. This is going to suck…

“Is everything okay, babe?” he finally asks, turning his body toward you. “You’ve had me worried ever since I found you cryin’…”

You take a deep breath, preparing for the rage that you just knew he was going to display. “That’s because I was lying to you, Ezra.”

His eyes grow as his jaw falls open a bit, looking for a response. “Lying about what?”

“I was upset, I am upset. I– egh, I’ve actually kind of been lying to you for a while, now. Well, not lying, just– not divulging the whole truth,” you explain, watching as his eyes search for more answers.

You turn completely and cross your legs, taking his hands in yours. “Before you got here, Murph, I uh… I was sleeping with Jake…” the words feel hollow as they burn your throat. “We had become kind of serious? In a way, things were like, moving sort of fast, in a good way and… as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he kind of… has had Isla this entire time,” you explain. Murph’s jaw moves sideways a few times as he crunches his eyes closed, shaking his head in confusion.

“So wait wait wait, he cheated on her with you? I don’t really know the ins and outs of their relationships or anything but… I– that would make sense as to why he’s been a complete jackass to me lately… he was some kind of jealous, fuck…” he rambles.

“He has?!”

“Yeah, but, that’s beside the point…” he waves it off, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. “Keep going…”

“He didn’t necessarily cheat on her with me, he was under the impression that they had been separated for a while before she even came here, they were in an awful relationship, there was a lot of drama that I don’t really wanna get into right now, but. Nonetheless, he failed to divulge that she even existed. So I cut him off, a while before you even came around. Anyways, this morning I decided I would go to their room and drop off coffee and apologize and I found out that they had… ya know… after he’d said that he basically hated the ground she walked on.”

“So you– you used me? To get back at him?”

“No no, you were a completely separate anomaly to me, Ezra. I’d already distanced myself from him once you came along. But– I just wanted you to know that that happened, and that’s why I was upset this morning, because I found out the hard way that he had slept with her even after telling me he had nothing for her anymore. I was just– a little fucked up over it…”

Murph shakes his head side to side as he huffs out a breath, looking around the room as he puts everything together.

“Thank you for telling me, Y/N,” he says blankly.

“I should have told you a while ago. And I’m sorry, Murph. He shouldn’t be treating you badly, either,” you concede.

“That part doesn't bother me too much. I’m used to my employers kind of treating me that way, but. Now I know why he’s had a change of heart. He saw me as a threat.”

“I don’t think you should look at it that way, Ez–”

“But he kicked Miss Isla to the curb…” he says, making you perk up.

“How do you know that?” you ask.

“I had to escort her to the airport earlier, right before the show. She was a complete mess and wouldn’t even speak to me… word on the street was Jake told her she had to leave.”

You nod, realizing that he’d actually gone through with it this time. He’d actually made arrangements for her to be gone.

“He really likes you, doesn’t he, Y/N?” he asks, his eyelids heavy as they meet yours in the light of the fire. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have sent her packing, otherwise he wouldn’t have been treating me like dirt…”

“I don’t know, Ezra, maybe. I can’t answer that for him,” you say honestly. “Everything’s just been so fucked up… I realized I was essentially a homewrecker, Isla flew off the handle, Jake was mad at her, I was mad at him… it was all just. A lot. And now I just– wanted to clear the air. With you, with everyone. I think I just need a little while to… ya know. Regroup.” Your heart hurts as you watch his face fall, you really don’t want this. You don’t want things to be this way. And then you remember the lyrics. Like all good fruit…

“I’m so sorry about all of this, Ezra. I just want you to know that you weren’t some type of rebound or whatever, and I don’t want you to think I used you in retaliation. I was into you… am into you, very much so,” you explain with as much conviction as you can muster. “I hope you can understand where I stand with it all, right now.”

He’s silent for a second as he nods his head. “Thank you for listening to me, and not getting too mad at me, I hope. I’ve never met anyone else like you before, Ezra. You’re so easy, so laid back and sure of yourself. And I really appreciate you making me feel loved while our paths crossed.”

You can tell he’s a little distraught, but at the same time, you’ve got to ignore it.

“I appreciate you telling me the truth, Y/N, even though I wish you would’ve done it a little sooner,” he smiles a side smirk, making your heart skip a beat.

“I wish I would have too,” you say quietly, listening as the fire begins to crackle.

“So, what do you want?” he finally asks, his eyes full of false hope.

“I want– I think I just need to love myself for a little bit. Step back. I’m very much eaten up with guilt and strange taste right now, and I don’t want to put those vibes onto anyone else, if that makes sense,” you try your best to explain. “My mind is in so many places that I don’t think I can even think straight if I wanted to.”

He nods slowly, running a hand through his dark hair. “I get that. I could feel the tension within them, I understand.” He sends you a reassuring smile as he places a hand on your knee. “You were really good while you lasted, baby. Wish things could have gone a little differently. Don’t ever forget that,” he says.

“I want to still stay friends, Ezra. Just because I’m distancing myself doesn’t mean we have to completely write each other off,” you laugh. “You brighten my days too much for me to forget about you.”

He stifles a laugh through his nose. “So, friends?” he asks, holding a hand out.

“Yes. Friends. Please, I still need you to have my back,” you say with a joking tone.

“That won’t ever change, babe,” he says, standing the both of you up as you begin to walk to the elevator. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief as you stand outside the elevator doors, waiting for them to open so you can see him off.

“Forgot you’re on the ground floor,” he says. “See you bright and early?”

You give him a quick salute. “Bright and early.”

“Night, babe,” he says quietly, and you watch as the elevator doors close across the vision of his face.

Back in your room, you tap your phone again, realizing that a good night’s sleep isn’t going to find you tonight. Oh well, you presume… a nap in your downtime will definitely be in the cards. Just as you’re getting comfortable in your puffy sheets, your phone buzzes with the first notification you’ve gotten all night.

‘Jake has added a song to the shared playlist: 🐥’

Oh my god… he saw it.

You unlock your phone and scroll to the bottom, seeing that he had added a song that you hadn’t heard in many years, one that reminds you of your high school years, going to your first festivals and discovering a new type of music that you’d yet to delve into. ‘I Will Wait’ by Mumford and Sons.

Of course. Of course he will wait.

You feel a shudder of emotions that you can’t quite comprehend, knowing that despite it all, he still is sticking to his guns.

…So you decide to stick to yours.

You close the playlist, pulling up the itinerary for the remainder of the tour and pinning in certain places you want to visit, and things you want to see. Places you will most likely be visiting alone. Tears prickle at your eyes as you remember all the sweet things Jake had done for you, all the things that he’d said, all the love that you’d made… so for the second time today, you let yourself feel it. Let yourself bask in the sadness so that tomorrow, hopefully, you’ll have emptied all the tears you had left, leaving absolutely none left to cry.

—

December 7

Departing Lisbon, Portugal

You know those redemption scenes at the end of romcom movies where the main character is walking around, looking at all of their ex friends, ex foes, and exes, giving them all reassuring smiles and small waves while the sun shines above them, and upbeat pop music plays in the background?

That’s how the days following your conversation with Murph had gone. Exactly like that. The animosity that had been sewing itself into the fibers of everyone’s beings had suddenly up and left, being replaced with something more joyful than you could have anticipated.

Everyone felt a new air of peace surrounding the last few shows, and you spent your time burying yourself in your work, instead of worrying about what kind of argument was right around the corner.

Jake treated you like a friend and coworker, offering nothing more but cheerful ‘good mornings’ and ‘goodnights’, giving you space to cordially speak to him first, and avoiding adding any more songs to the playlist. Ezra acted like nothing at all had happened, and he even caught you in a hallway once, telling you that Jake had come to him and apologized for treating him so badly.

It truly seemed as though everyone had turned a new leaf.

As you walk through the airport parking lot ready to catch the flight back home to Nashville, you suddenly feel Mia at your side.

“Hey!” she chirps, the wind blowing her hair across her face.

“Hey!” you respond with just as much glee. You hadn’t really gotten a chance to speak with Mia one on one since the day that Lyla and Isla left, you being left with the feeling that maybe she still held some distaste for you.

“Hey listen uh, I was just wondering if you’d want to get some coffee with me… one day, when we get back home? There’s this new little shop around the corner from mine and Danny’s and I really wanna try it out, I’ve heard excellent things,” she says, catching you completely off guard.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure! That sounds really fun, actually,” you say, not willing to turn her down in any way.

“Great! Cool!” she replies as you both walk, a strange silence falling between you. “Hey um, I just… wanted you to know that I’m really sorry about how everything went down, with Isla and everything. I never really liked her, if I’m being honest, and… I just don’t want you to think that I’m that kind of person, too.”

Oh. Ohhhhh.

“Oh, no, Mia, you don’t have to apologize. Everything just got so fucked up and confusing and stupid, I think we were all just making really bad decisions and things just snowballed…”

“I agree. Still doesn’t make how she treated you any more right. How we all treated you. I should have told you about their master plan to get Isla here the minute they got her plane ticket. Poor Jake. I know now that she was so manipulative of him, and that is on me. I should have warned you both. I never even told Danny,” she admits, letting her face fall.

“Seems like she manipulated more than just Jake then, huh?” you ask, suddenly making sense of it all.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Lyla is… she’s gone too, actually,” she says with a little bit of melancholy in her voice. “Broke things off with Sam. But I think he is like, really okay with it,” she snaps back into a laugh.

“Is she?!” you squeal. “Wow, I guess I hadn’t even bothered to notice…”

“How things have changed, huh?” she asks as she opens the doors for you. “Anyways, I’ll see you on the plane. And I’ll text you one day later this week?”

“Yeah, sounds great. Thanks for chatting with me, Mia,” you say.

“Sure thing, babe,” she says with a wink, darting off to find Danny and the rest.

JAKE POV

“Are you positive that’s her seat?” you ask Paul quietly from the jetbridge, keeping an eye on her as you see her walking ten or so people back from you.

“Positive,” he says with a bit of sarcasm.

“Thank you. Good man,” you reply as you pat his shoulder, rushing ahead through the hordes of people boarding the plane ahead of you.

You rush to find her seat, eyeing the rows as you finally find it. You shove your hand in your pocket, gripping the crisp hundred to make sure it’s still there, ready to be used just in case this goes south. There’s a middle aged man sitting in the seat beside hers, already kicked back comfortably with his headphones on. You tap his shoulder, getting his attention as he pulls his music away.

“Hey, sorry to disturb you, but would you be interested in exchanging seats with me?” you ask with a little bit of haste in your voice.

The man scoffs as he glances to his left. “It’s a window seat, buddy. Don’t think so,” he replies, pulling his headphones back up.

“Please, sir… I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need to sit here,” you plead, hoping he can hear the urgency in your voice. But yet again, he meets you with nothing.

“Would this change your mind?” you ask, pulling out the hundred from your pocket and straightening it hard in his face. “Might get you a few cocktails at your layover… plus, I’d be switching you for first class.” You raise and lower your eyebrows a few times as you suck your lip in, hoping the last ditch effort will take effect.

The man pauses and pulls his music away again. “First class? Why didn’t you say so?” he boasts, slapping his hand across the bill in your grasp as he stands and begins gathering his carry-on.

“Thank you, thank you,” you reply as you let him step by you, tossing your own backpack into the seat as you shake his hand. “Have a nice rest of your day, sir.”

“Sure thing,” he replies, and you know he was busy trying to figure out why you just paid him to take your first class seat. You plop into the uncomfortable chair, crossing your hands together as your elbows lie on the rests, waiting for her to approach the row.

Your eyes close on their own accord as you pull your sunglasses back down, huffing a sigh of relief that phase one of your plan has officially commenced. Finally you feel her presence, gorgeous as ever as she is lost in her own little world, listening to her music and maneuvering her things between the tight rows of seats. She finally sits down beside you, completely unaware that it’s actually you sitting there. You smirk as she drops her bag, out of breath and flustered as she makes herself comfortable. How she doesn’t even clock you, you don’t know.

Just as she finally gets situated, her elbow knocks into yours, so you knock it back. “Excu– Jake?! What the hell are you– why are you sitting here? I thought they got you first class on this trip…”

You smile with all of your teeth. “They did? You’re kidding, that explains why literally everyone else isn’t here…shit,” you playfully look around, hitting yourself in the head as if you hadn’t even realized.

“Cut it, Jake. How did you mix up your own seat?!” she asks, wiping a few flyaways from her face. The smell of her perfume almost envelops you, sweet and sultry as you breathe her in for the first time in way too many days.

“I didn’t mix it up. I just don’t like fucking with tradition,” you reply, crossing one leg over the other as you relax comfortably back into your seat.

“Tradition?” she asks, her voice deflated as she rolls her eyes.

“Yes. Tradition. We came to Europe on a plane side by side, we should leave Europe on a plane side by side. We shouldn’t fuck with it, might be bad luck,” you say cheekily.

She smiles, but only a little bit. “Jake, this entire trip was bad luck, honestly…”

You take a deep breath in agreement. “Touche, okay, but what if this plane ride home reverses that, and makes it good luck?” you ramble, honestly just saying words at this point. Anything to make her smile again. Make her cheeks turn that perfect shade of blush again… “We can’t discount fate, Y/N. It’d be foolish to do so. And neither you, nor I, are foolish.”

She bites her teeth together, stretching her neck. “You’re really crazy, you know that?” she finally smiles wholly.

There she is.

You rustle with your watch hanging on your wrist, noticing it’s almost time for takeoff. “I know. But can you blame me?”

She shakes her head. “No, no I really can’t, after getting to know you and all your baggage…”

“Ohhhh! My baggage, huh?” you cross your legs again. “Well I’m here to tell you babe, that the only baggage I am bringing home is this backpack. And my suitcases. And the thousands of dollars worth of guitars and gear. But that’s it! That’s all this time!”

Finally, she laughs. A real laugh. “Again, you’re really stupid. And honestly, why should I even believe you?” she counters. “Seems as though our relationship was solely based on lies from the get-go, hm?” Her voice had fallen a bit toward the end there, and you swear you felt a dagger shoot through your chest for the thousandth time in the past month. Twisting and turning itself as you realize the guilt is never going to go away.

Her eyes meet yours with a heaviness, almost as if she’s asking you to pour your heart out, one more good time. After all, the morning she came to your room with three coffees seemed as if it was going to be full of good intention, but you just never gave her the chance to say her piece.

“I deserve that,” you nod. You feel the plane begin to shake as it prepares to take off, the pilot coming over the loudspeaker to announce departure. The two of you look out the window as the early morning sun begins to rise over the city, the tall buildings casting long shadows that look as if they reach for miles. You feel her shoulder press against yours as the plane begins to rush down the runway, finally taking off to make its way above the clouds.

You rise higher and higher in the sky, the bottomless pit sensation making your stomach fall as you ascend. When the plane finally evens out and your vertigo subsides, you notice her eyes still trained on the scenery outside. “Come on, look how gorgeous…” you suggest, urging her to lean closer and get a better view of what’s now below you.

She hesitantly leans again, the smell of her shampoo prevalent in her still-damp hair as she reaches across you. You breathe it in, memorize it, savor it as you know that this flight could be the very last time you ever feel her closeness. You feel her sigh as you both take it all in, leaving the place that saw both the downfall and redemption of one of the most convoluted experiences of your life thus far.

“It’s truly beautiful there, isn’t it?” she mutters, almost too quietly to hear.

“Yeah, it really is…” you agree as you feel her relax back in her seat again, breathing a sigh of relief as the plane hits a little bit of turbulence.

You decide to take the opportunity to speak again during this moment of shared adoration, hoping that the peacefulness of being miles in the sky mixes well with the eagerness you both have to finally get home again.

“Y/N, I’m gonna say something, and you don’t have to believe me, fuck, you don’t even have to listen. And I know I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but… from the bottom of my heart, I want you to know that it’s the god’s honest truth. All of it.” You swallow as your words sound sheepish, quiet in the grand scheme of things when all you want to do is yell from the rooftops if it’d mean she’d listen. “Okay?”

“Oh–Okay…” she spouts, turning a little to show her attention. Her hands are gripping each other tightly, wringing against themselves as she knows she can’t get up and walk away from this.

“I know I lied to you, held out on the absolute truth from the very beginning. That wasn’t me, Y/N, it never was me. I’d lived in this… this bubble for a really long time. Even though I thought I was happy, I knew deep down that I wasn’t, and it was only getting worse as time went on. I became the worst version of myself, Isla did too. I think in some weird, fucked up way, we brought the worst out in each other. The toxicity. And hers came from a place of possession, mine came from a place of my inability to communicate with her, I guess. Either way, I know I’ve told you the whole story a hundred times, but it took this trip for me to realize how much more me I finally felt when I boarded that plane to leave that day. And how much more me I felt when we started talking. Fuck, it was like I was physically finally far enough away from my demons that the clouds kind of dissipated, I don’t know.”

You finally make a bit of eye contact with her, and she gives you a small smile, placing her hand on your arm as she knows this is a difficult topic. Either way, you persevere.

“It hurts to admit this, and I’m not sure that I have ever really said it out loud, but… I’m fully aware of the fact that I was in somewhat of an emotionally manipulative relationship, and I allowed myself to fall victim to it, for everyone around me to fall victim to it. I know that I’m stronger than that. Did I have my faults? Of course, I’m not blind to that realization, either. But when you fall into that routine, it sort of becomes you, I guess. And I know for a fact that the decisions I’ve made in the past few weeks are just the ghosts of that. The lingering feelings, the bullshit I was too stupid to see past.” Your voice is grated as you give her your speech, one that you know you would give a thousand times if it would give you her forgiveness. Her hand flits up underneath her chin as she rests it, giving you her full attention now, her face riddled with concern and sympathy.

“Sorry, I can shut up if you want me to, babe,” you laugh.

“No no, go on, please…” she says, reaching to take your hand in her grasp. Her palms, so warm and inviting as she gives your fingertips a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay.”

You huff an exhale. “Y/N, I am not kidding you in the least when I tell you that you helped pull me from that place. Helped me realize so much. You put a mirror in front of my face that gave me the courage to finally extract myself from that situation. You–You made me feel the blood in my veins again, made me feel that urge in the pit of my stomach to want again, in every sense of the word. Hell, you can ask Josh, I’ve written four songs just on this trip alone,” you jest.

“Have you really?!” she asks, her tone warm as her lips part into the most perfect smile.

“Yeah,” you laugh, running your free hand over your mouth. “We’ll see if they go anywhere. But anyway…”

You sit on your thoughts for another few seconds, letting them simmer as your throat continues to tighten. But it feels cathartic in a way, spilling your emotions. It's always been so easy to share with her.

“I hate the way things ended between you and I, and I can’t take back the decisions that I made and the actions that followed them, and I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am. I just wanted you to know that you’ve been the biggest light in my life for a while now, and you gave me the strength to get my dignity back. And I can’t thank you enough for that.” You squeeze her hand again as you see the tears piling up in her eyes. “Just your presence has been enough to make me appreciate my life again. Appreciate the things in front of me, make me lust for them again. And I know that when we get home, we might not ever talk again, you’ll probably move on and tour with someone else, but just know I hold no animosity toward you, and I hope that we can stay friends.”

On your last word, a single tear finally falls on her cheek, a clear indication that her emotions are all over the place, too.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N,” you whisper as you run your thumb along her tear line to catch the next one, threatening to fall just like the first. “You’re too pretty to cry.”

She pulls away and wipes them herself, fanning her face as she sniffles them away. “God, Jake, you know… you’re so easy to hate.”

Her words take your breath; all the revelations and admissions you just shared seemingly for nothing as she continues to clear her tears away. You open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off.

“So easy to hate, but so, so fucking easy to love, too.”

You shake your head in confusion, your heart suddenly ripping itself from your ribcage. “What do you mean?” you mumble, barely audibly.

She swallows as she regains her composure, tucking her hair behind her ear as she leans her head back onto the headrest, eyeing you deeply.

“I didn’t realize, at first, how much I really felt for you. How much emotion I wasn’t even letting myself feel, because I didn’t even know it was there. While we were sleeping together, and you were being so fucking sweet to me, it was so perfect, and so nice. I guess I just ignored it because I’d never really been treated that genuinely before. Never had someone pursue me so consistently and with so much momentum. But now I know, after everything, it was there. I felt it, and it was real. Even if I tried to ignore it, I felt something really, really intense with you.”

Felt. She felt that way.

You brush away another tear, mirroring her and lying your head back on your headrest, too… your faces only within inches of one another.

“Everything felt like a whirlwind, you know? It happened fast, and there were so many vengeful actions, even if we didn’t wanna call them that. We were both fucking stupid, you know?” she continues.

You nod. “Yeah. We were. But I guess I’m glad to know you felt the same way I did, even if we were both too stubborn to really admit it.”

“You admitted it to me just fine, Jake. I was the one hiding from it all. And now I understand, I see that everything you said came from a place of authenticity, and I’m really sorry you had to go through all of that with Isla. That’s all so fucked up…”

You sigh and continue to brush at her cheek, wishing that things could have gone so differently, but ready to accept the fact that nothing in life worth fighting for is ever easy. And if this was the fight you’d have to be entangled in to get her back, so be it.

“It’s alright. She’s out of the house now. Lyla texted me a couple days ago and said they’d found an apartment and would ‘No longer be a burden’ to me and Sam. Whatever. I’m just glad to have my home back to myself,” you reply, noticing you’re antsy to get home and rot on your couch in peace.

Y/N smiles, turning her face to press a quick and sweet kiss to your thumb, the action nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. “That’s good. I’m proud of you, Jake. It took a lot of courage to stand up to her like that,” she says.

“Yeah… no more shackles,” you smile, grabbing her chin between your fingers. The two of you stay caught up in this position for a while, neither of you saying much else while you stare into each other’s eyes, sharing sweet wordless smiles every so often that make you feel even more at peace than you were before.

It’s all out now, everything you wanted to say now existing in the air between you instead of bottled up in your chests. You know nothing is in your hands, anymore. You’re well aware that the universe has to take charge and draw out the map for your next journey. You know where you want it to lead, though, you know where you want to end up. But as of late you’ve learned to let things take their course, because if you try to force destiny before it’s ready, it will swallow you like quicksand, leaving nothing behind in its wake but broken hearts and words left unsaid.

“Friends, Y/N?” you ask, finally breaking the stare.

She takes your hand again, interlacing your fingers together as you feel the threat of sleep taking over.

“Yeah, Jake. Really good friends.”

—

Late September 2024, Nine Months Later

Nashville, TN

HER POV

“I’m positive, Ruth. Go with the green one with the low neckline. It’s so flattering on your collarbones and he will go crazy,” you try and convince your friend as she works to pick an outfit for her blind date.

“How do you know that, bitch? I don’t even know what this man looks like, let alone that he will think my collarbones are flattering!” she barks, tossing another outfit onto the bed in front of her. “Give me a whole ass break.”

“What’s got your panties in a bunch? Are you really this nervous? You go on dates like this all the time!” you argue, raising your voice.

“Yes, I’m nervous, okay? My coworker said that me and this guy are like two peas in a pod and she could see me marrying him. Do you know how insane that sounds, Y/N?! I can’t marry someone, ew!” she responds as she slips out of the frame, still frazzled as she throws on another dress. “Ugh, this looks ugly, too. That’s it, I’m not going. I’m texting her right now and canceling–”

“The fuck you are, Ruth!” you yell as she picks the phone up and brings the screen close to her face. “You’re going on this date, and you’re wearing the gree– oh my god. Oh my god?” you say suddenly, your heart falling to your stomach as you sit back down on your bed. “Holy shit holy shit holy shit.”

“What? What?!” Ruth asks. “What’s wrong?”

You’re breathless as you stare at your screen in disbelief, your jaw hanging slack as you fight to find the words.

“Y/N!!! Answer me!” Ruth shouts.

“Oh, sorry sorry, um. Jake just… just added a song to our playlist…”

“What?! Jake??? Like Jake, Jake? How long has it been since you talked to him?” she asks, panic written all over her face.

“Since that day at the airport when we got home from Europe, almost nine months ago…” you say, your voice void of any emotion as you try your hardest to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “We–we decided to cut ties… just be friends…”

“Oh my fuck, Y/N, this is huge. Right? What song is it? What did he add?”

“It’s called Reasons For Waiting? By Jethro Tull? I’ve never heard of this… OH my god Ruth he texted. Oh my god what do I do help me,” you ramble, your heartrate picking up speed as you feel your hands grow sweaty from the singular notification buzz.

“Read the text, you idiot! And read it out loud!” she commands, tilting back her bottle of Twisted Tea she had been pregaming on.

“Okay okay,” you say, clicking away from the facetime and over to your texts, your hands shaking as you click on the name you hadn’t read in months, though you thought about every single day.

Jake

6:27PM: Hey stranger, hope you’re well. Was just hanging out and listening to music and some Alt-J came on, made me think of you.

6:28PM: I went and saw that I still have our playlist saved, and noticed the last song I added was I Will Wait, and I’m sure you saw I added another song just now. I know you weren’t there for it, but during our last tour, this song played to the crowd every night right before we came on stage. It was always one of our favorites, especially mine. Kind of hits home in a lot of ways, and it sort of became the song that connected all of us to our fans, in a way. Anyway, I thought it would be a nice follow up to the one before it, so give it a listen if you don’t know it already. Let me know how you like it 🙂

“Oh my fucking god, babe. Go play it so I can hear too,” she says, and you click play on the song, still holding every ounce of the breath left in your lungs. The two of you listen to the song play out, paying special attention to the words and how the lyrics connect. At the song’s close, your hand flies up over your mouth as you fight the tears, the song already feeling familiar as your faint memories of hearing the guys sing or play it while you were in Europe last year come falling back.

“I remember it, Ruth. They played it all the time, Josh would hum it, Jake would play parts of it on his acoustic… I… What do I even do with this?” you say, your throat constricting with old memories.

“Y/N, sweetie, this was an invitation. He reached out, finally… right?” Ruth says with a newfound softness in her voice. “You might not have noticed it, but you bring up Jake every single day, in one way or another, did you know that?”

“I do?”

“Yes. You do. You miss him, Y/N, and this was quite literally him saying he misses you, too. He had his reasons for waiting for you, and he has waited, it looks like. For a long time. Text him back.”

“No!” you shout, feeling a fear like no other. “I can’t! What will I even say?! It’s been almost a year, I–”

“Tell him you liked the song. Tell him you loved it, and that you remember hearing it. He’s just looking for contact, Y/N. Extending an olive branch. Maybe all this time apart is just what you needed,” she says, slipping back into the green dress you decided on earlier. “Does he still live in the same place?”

“I don’t know, how would I know?!” you ask, still panicked and teary.

“Ask him, strike up conversation. You can do it, Y/N,” Ruth urges as she finishes getting dressed and putting her heels on. “I love you, but I have to go, I’m already late for my Uber. But I want screenshots of the texts, and updates on everything, okay?”

You take a deep breath, letting the emotions level out. “Okay. Okay yeah. I’ll text him back.”

“Alright. Love you, good luck and godspeed my bitch,” Ruth salutes as she hangs up the phone, leaving you staring at the text thread with Jake. You huff a sigh, trying to hype yourself up to type the text you’ve been wanting to type for nine months.

You

6:39PM: Hey 😌 I remember that song well, actually. But I will admit, it sounded better coming from your acoustic

His text bubble pops up almost immediately, as if he was waiting for your reply.

Jake

6:40PM: I don’t know about all that, now, but I appreciate the compliment

You

6:41PM: How are you? Overseas again?

Jake

6:42PM: I’m well, thanks… And no, we just got back from a leg in Australia and New Zealand, actually. Enjoying being back home

You:

6:43PM: Wow, I bet that was amazing. And home is…

Jake

6:43PM: …still Nashville, yes

6:44PM: Actually just put the finishing touches on my back porch fire pit.

6:44PM: *attachment*

The photo showed what looked to be his yard, a few wooden benches surrounding a metal fire pit with an already roaring fire. Jake’s feet were propped up on the pavers that bordered it, holding up a bottle of a beer you’d never seen before.

You

6:45PM: That looks so nice!

6:46PM: Though, I did spy that entire bag of unopened marshmallows sitting beside you…

Jake

6:46PM: I’m about to tear into them now. But, I don’t think I can eat them all on my own

You

6:47PM: I think I know someone who would be willing to help you put a dent in them at least, if you needed assistance…

Your heart pounds as you watch his text bubble fly up, immediately regretting inviting yourself over to his house after so long of having no contact at all. What the fuck, Y/N? He could have someone coming over already, he could have a completely new life, now. Regret, abort, unsend!

Jake

6:49PM: I most definitely need assistance. I’ll drop you a pin

6:49PM: Drive safe, see you soon 😉

His forwardness ignites a feeling in your stomach that you haven’t felt in a long while as you screenshot the texts, sending them straight to Ruth. You toss your phone onto your bed, and rush back to your closet to find the perfect outfit to go and see Jake again, for what would hopefully be the first of many bonfire dates to come.

JAKE POV

Rushing to tidy up your place would be an understatement; you truly hadn’t planned on the conversation with Y/N going so well, so when she replied that she was almost there, you felt a wave of excitement that could only be cured by finally seeing her in the flesh again.

Your hands are jittery, your palms are sweaty, and the anxiety in your core has you reeling, but you know it's for good reason. She’s really coming, she’s really almost here…

You throw another log onto the fire as you hear tires in your driveway, just as the sun is starting to set lower in the sky. You brush yourself off as you walk through your house, taking a second to check your appearance in the mirror as you pass by it. You crack the door open to find her already walking up the steps to your front porch, dressed in the prettiest yellow sundress you’re positive you’ve ever seen. Your breath escapes your lungs as she looks at you, gorgeous and beaming as ever.

“Hey there,” you manage to get out as your heart pounds, “Thanks for coming.”

Her cheeks blush that perfect pink that you always loved so much as you grab her up in a little hug, her arms pulling you in tighter as you finally make contact. Her body still feels so good, so perfect as you feel your skin magnetically connect to hers. You both pull away, a flush of nerves overtaking the both of you after not having seen each other for so long. You make your way inside and back out to the fire. “Of course, how could I turn down free marshmallows?”

You guide her to the other empty seat and watch as she tucks her dress beneath her, sitting back comfortably. You grab a beer from the box beside you, cracking it open and handing it off to her. “Oh, so it was the marshmallows that got you here. If I would have known that, I would have sent you that photo months ago…” you quip, taking a sip from your beer.

“Thought you were still traveling the world months ago?” she asks, her voice buttery soft as her lips connect with the bottle.

“I was,” you laugh, leaning back in your seat, as well.

“Australia, huh? How was that?”

“Fucking amazing,” you say. “We love it there. Feels like a whole other world. But I will say it feels good to be back here, back on my turf, in my home. Finally, my home,” you say, trying to insinuate that you were, in fact, still single.

“You never let Isla come back?” she presses, getting straight to the point.

You shake your head with furiosity. “Hell no. No. We haven’t spoken.”

“Good for you, Jake,” she says, her voice still absolutely dripping with honey as you take a second to admire her in the dimming sunlight. The fire is casting bright beams onto her face and exposed chest, and you have to remind yourself that this is just a cordial visit. Between friends. Just catching up.

You clear your throat. “And you…? Find another super cool band to run for?”

She smiles as she shakes her head. “No, I traveled a lot, though. Took some time, went out West, visited Ruth and some family… I actually did the paperwork today to make myself available to tour again. Think I’m ready to get back out there.” She cocks an eyebrow as she crosses her legs, taking another long drag of her drink.

You’re almost speechless as you watch her move; somehow she seems so much more sure of herself, now… so confident and comfortable in her own skin. Not that she wasn’t before, but something has switched.

“Is that right?” you say, leaving the question open-ended to be discussed another time. “Have you uh, have you talked to Murph?”

You’d contemplated not touching on the subject at all, but you figured there is no better time than the present to go ahead and rip off the bandaid, if there was to be one.

She smiles as she bobs her head up and down. “Yep, have the wedding invitation hanging on my fridge. You going?”

Your heart warms at the thought, knowing that just nine short months ago, the three of you were caught up in something you were sure you’d never pull yourself from. But now, as time has held hands with destiny again, you find yourselves in a whole different dimension.

“Of course I’m going!” you reply. “It’s our turn to take care of him while he gets too damn drunk to function. He and I uh, actually got kind of close on this last leg, we’re actually more alike than I thought we were,” you explain, pulling open the bag of marshmallows.

“Wow!” she says. “And to think…”

“I know. Hindsight is 20/20. We talked it out, got over it. You know he got back with his ex a couple of months after we got home from Europe… she showed up on his doorstep saying everything was a mistake, how much she missed him and all that. Next thing we knew we were going to their housewarming party, and he was sending Danny photos of rings.”

“You’re kidding me…” she says as you watch an overwhelming expression of sweetness and longing cover her face, her hand clutching at her heart as her lips pout.

“Yep. We helped him decide on one. Got her a rock, too. He was so happy, Y/N. You know how he’s already so happy-go-lucky… he’s like a big ball of laughter and elation, now. Man’s head over heels. I like her, too. Sweet girl that gets those big googly eyes when she’s around him,” you say, internally laughing at the whole situation and how things have ended up.

“That’s so good, Jake. I’m actually really, so very happy for him,” she says as she stares into the fire, going silent for a few seconds. You lift a marshmallow from the bag and toss it at her face, breaking her from her trance into the flames. “Hey!!” she squeals, picking it off her lap to throw back at you.

“You mean you’re not jealous?!” you ask with faux surprise.

“Of course I’m not jealous,” she says, again showing her maturity. She leans over and dips her hand deep into the bag of marshmallows on your lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d bargain that she left her hand there for a second longer than she needed to as her fingertips graze your inner thigh through the bag. She pulls one out, taking a big bite of it. “But I probably will need a date to the wedding, though… if you have any ideas of anyone I could ask…”

You feel your lips curl up into a cheeky grin, hoping, praying that she means what you think she does.

“Funny, I was gonna go stag, but… if you’d like some arm candy, I think I could like, hold your purse for you,” you tease, taking a bite of a marshmallow yourself as your eyes dig into hers.

“You might want to start taking some dancing lessons now, Jake. You’ve got three months to learn how to do the Electric Slide and the Wobble,” she quips, shoving your shoulder. You take the opportunity to grip the handle of her chair, scooting her toward you so that your shoulders touch.

You lean in close to her, pulling a bit of hair behind her ear. “The only dancing I’ll be doing is slow dancing, with my wedding date…”

You feel her swallow hard at your bold words and close proximity, but you hold true to it. To it all. It’s always been true.

You place a firm hand on the back of her neck, expecting her to pull away, but she doesn’t. She moves in even closer, brushing her lips across yours as you just barely breathe in the essence of the sugar still on them.

Her eyes flash up to yours as you hear her breath catch, and you know the fact that she isn’t pulling away is very telling. “Do you want to stay for dinner, Y/N?” you breathe.

“You mean these marshmallows aren’t dinner?” she asks, her cuteness almost too much as you can’t hold back a giggle.

“No. I’m making pasta primavera. Very fancy and difficult and special…” you say, tightening your grip on her neck again as her lips ghost yours.

“Mmm, sounds like you might need a hand. I should probably… stay and help…”

“You should… stay and help…” you take your hand from around the back of her neck, moving it slowly to grasp her jaw, pulling her slowly into a kiss that feels like it was a hundred years coming. Soft and gentle as you taste her again, your lips barely pressed together as you hear her slow inhale. Peaceful and right. So incredibly right. You part yours a little to let her in, wanting to feel her warmth again more than anything else. She feels so familiar yet so different, the sweetness of the whole exchange overtaking your ability to think straight.

You feel her smile onto you as you disconnect, giving yourselves both a second to come back down to earth.

“I’m… sorry, that was…” you say as you press your fingers to your lips.

“Old habits die hard,” she laughs, the sound of it making you squirm with nerves.

You’re both unable to speak for a minute or so, and you know for a fact that she is reeling just the same as you are. “So, you want to come inside?” you ask, finally standing and brushing your hands across your shorts.

“Yeah, give me the grand tour….” she says, standing and following you through the yard. You stop and take her in, watching as her face is lit up and bashful from the kiss you both had been longing for for so long, now.

You hold out your hand, urging her to take it as you top the steps, ready to start fresh with the only woman who has ever made you feel whole, and hoping that she’ll stay for more than just dinner.

Taglist: @britney-gvf @gretavanmoon @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka

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glamdringwlv · 15 days

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Unchain my heart: Part 3. Heart of glass

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

The door hadn’t even fully closed when Mia was practically standing over Charles.

“What are you hiding from me?” she demanded, her voice firm, though it barely reflected the emotional storm raging inside her.

The professor looked at her seriously, his expression hard and distant, which only fueled her anger. She knew he wouldn’t approve of what had happened in the danger room, but Mia was tired of hearing the same reprimands over and over. “You let your instincts take over. You’ve lost your—”

“Don’t you dare, Charles,” she interrupted, her voice trembling with fury. “Don’t for a second think I’m going to let you twist this situation.”

He stayed silent, observing her with that same serious gaze. He had never seen her like this, so out of control, her brow furrowed continuously, her breathing heavy. Mia stared at him with an intensity she could barely contain. Her mind was spinning in a thousand different directions. Every second that passed made her feel more alone, more vulnerable, though she would never admit it. The respect she had for Charles was eroding with each truth he chose to keep from her.

Mia quickly raised the mental barriers she had trained to keep Charles out, even if only for a moment. She believed what had slipped out from her mind wasn’t his business. She was hesitant to share anything, especially since most of her secrets had already been dissected by him.

“As I was saying, you’ve lost control, something that’s very unlike you.”

She was stunned by the coldness of his response. She wanted to shout at him that it wasn’t unusual for her, that she was always on the verge of breaking, that every second was a battle to keep the chaos inside from taking over. If she didn’t, she feared she’d end up alienating everyone around her, destroying the only home she’d ever known. But she said nothing. Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line, swallowing the bitter words.

Charles continued, seemingly unaware (or perhaps fully aware) of the pain he was causing.

“Logan will be staying here for a while. I believe Magneto is after him. Try to keep things civil.”

Civil... The word echoed in her mind with irony. How could she be civil with someone like Logan? That mutant was the very opposite of everything she struggled to keep in check. The mere mention of his name sent her mind spiraling back to their confrontation. Her anger flared again.

“He’s the one who didn’t make a civil introduction.”

“Do I need to remind you of your first days at the mansion?” Charles responded, his calmness only infuriating her further.

Memories flooded her mind, uninvited. She saw herself, younger, more fragile, lost, and terrified. The self-imposed isolation, the fear of not knowing who she was, and the pressure of being in a place where everyone expected something from her.

“I was a child who had everything taken from her, even her memories. It’s normal that I behaved that way. What’s his excuse? Does he not like the wallpaper?”

Charles sighed, but his gaze remained firm.

“Mia, don’t be hasty. You shouldn’t judge what you don’t understand. I think you’d be surprised.”

Mia’s heart pounded harder. She knew there was more to Logan’s presence. She had seen it in Charles’s thoughts, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Her head was full of unanswered questions, and the professor refused to give her the explanations she sought.

“Of course I don’t understand,” she replied, her tone sharp. “I don’t understand why you’re hiding things from me. I know he has something to do with me. I saw it in your mind the other day when I was searching for information about my past.”

She almost broke through her train of thought, tempted to delve into the professor’s mind again and demand answers, but that would only prove that, as he believed, she had completely lost control.

“There are things you need to discover on your own. We don’t know the damage it might cause for you to confront your past all at once. If you saw Logan in my thoughts, maybe it’s because, before our training, I was tracking him with Cerebro.”

Mia nodded, though she didn’t fully believe Charles’s words. She wanted to trust him, because he had never let her down before, but deep down, the beast she kept hidden roared with a different opinion. She had no reason to doubt the professor, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this time, things might be different.

“Now, I ask that you be patient and ensure what happened this morning doesn’t happen again.”

A scoff escaped her lips, disbelief written all over her face.

“I didn’t seek it out. That idiot barged into my class and doubted my abilities without even knowing me. Not to mention he almost sliced my neck open with those forks of his.”

“Mia…”

“No, don’t ‘Mia’ me. I’ll try to keep it together, but that jerk needed a lesson, and I gave it to him.”

She was so furious that she didn’t hear the door open behind her. She only realized they weren’t alone when Charles’s gaze shifted to a point over her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a second, searching for patience, but all she found was a growing sense of betrayal.

“Fotks, huh?”

Logan’s raspy voice filled the room, interrupting her thoughts. The sound of his rough, mocking tone snapped her out of her anger.

“You betrayed me, Charles,” she said, her eyes blazing with fury as she pointed a finger at the professor. She felt that words weren’t enough to express the indignation coursing through her. Then, she crossed her arms tightly, as if trying to contain her own power from exploding right then and there.

You called him. You let me keep talking while he was right behind me.

For his part, Charles remained calm, raising an eyebrow at her unusually childish behavior.

I didn’t get a chance to warn you.

“What the hell is going on here? You know it’s rude to talk about someone when they’re in the room, right?” Logan’s gruff voice cut in.

For the first time since he entered the room, Mia turned to look at him, and the space suddenly felt too small. Her heart skipped a beat, and once again, she felt the need to restrain a part of herself.

“Logan, I called you here to resolve the ‘misunderstanding’ between you and Miss Green.”

“It wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was a full-on plane crash with a thousand casualties.”

“Mia, you’re in an educational setting. Watch your language.”

She rolled her eyes, and her anger surged when she heard Logan laugh at the situation.

“What are you laughing at, Kitty?”

Logan’s expression changed instantly. The laughter vanished from his lips, and fury filled his eyes. She’d struck a nerve. A small part of Mia relished the fact that she had managed to break through his arrogant attitude, but the majority of her knew she was playing with fire.

“Don’t call me that.”

Mia couldn’t resist the challenge forming on her lips. “Or what?”

The sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing from his knuckles filled the room, reverberating in the air like an ominous echo. Mia felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn’t fear that consumed her. It was a strange sense of anticipation, a charged tension that made her open her mind, preparing to subdue him again with her power. But just before she could unleash the force pulsing inside her, Charles intervened.

“Enough. This isn’t a schoolyard, and you two are not children. Act your age.”

The authority in Charles’s voice was enough to snap Mia out of her trance. Her breathing was uneven, and she realized she was trembling slightly. She barely recognized herself. She hadn’t allowed her control to slip like this in years.

Logan still stared at her with a mixture of fury and defiance, but he retracted his claws.

“Logan, while you’re here, you’ll abide by the rules and respect the other residents.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Logan rolled his eyes with disdain.

“Mia, you will welcome your new companion just as they welcomed you when you arrived.” She glanced down, feeling ashamed at the scolding. “This place is supposed to be a refuge, a safe space for mutants. We have to rely on each other.”

Neither of them spoke, as if they were both reflecting on the reprimand they had just received.

“Can I go now? I’m not fifteen, professor.”

Charles simply nodded, and both of them listened as the door slammed shut behind him.

Mia’s mind raced as she left the room behind him. She thought about Charles’s words and realized he was right. When she had first arrived, lost and without memory of who she was, Jean and Scott hadn’t taken her attitude seriously. They had welcomed her with open arms and helped her piece herself back together, softening the pain she felt as she considered herself broken.

From afar, she saw Logan walking and quickened her pace to catch up with him. She was about to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, but Logan’s muscles tensed, and he turned around before she could do anything.

“What now, Bub? Round two?”

“No, Logan. That’s not it. I wanted to talk to you.” She felt nervous, her tongue nearly stumbling over itself, as if it were made of cloth. She motioned toward one of the empty classrooms, and Logan raised an eyebrow at her. "Don’t be an ass, okay? I’m trying to meet you halfway."

He nodded and stepped into the classroom. Mia followed, shutting the door behind her. Logan leaned against one of the small desks, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance, like he was already bracing for another argument. His eyes were locked on her, challenging, waiting for her to slip up. She stood in front of him, just a few steps away, unsure of how to begin. The words were in her head, but saying them out loud felt empty, forced. Despite everything that had happened between them, she had to find a way to reach him. But the longer she looked at him, the more she realized she was up against a wall of indifference and mistrust.

"Look, I think Charles is right. This should be a safe space, and we didn’t exactly get off to a great start."

Logan’s face didn’t change. He seemed like he was listening, but he might as well have been miles away. Frustration bubbled up inside her—it felt just like when she gave the safety briefing to the students before they started their field exercises.

"Really? Listen, all this 'saving humanity' crap means nothing to me. I’m only here because Rogue’s safe. I don’t give a damn about your little hippie commune or whatever it is you think you’ve got going here."

"Excuse me?"

Mia blinked, surprised by his bluntness. She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the urge to snap back. Beneath that cold, distant exterior, she could feel something else. Logan had built walls—huge ones, far taller than hers.

"Mia, I’m no hero. I don’t even want to be one. Nobody’s ever done anything for me, and I don’t get how you guys can run around saving people who treat you like dirt. Don’t try to be something you’re not."

His words hit her hard, like a punch to the chest. He didn’t see what they did at the mansion as a noble cause, not even something worth admiring.

"Logan, no one here is pretending to be anything," she said, trying to keep her growing frustration in check. "I think it’s great you want to look after Rogue, I really do. But we’re all responsible for something bigger than ourselves. I’ve learned that. We’ve all learned that."

Logan looked at her like he wasn’t buying a word she said, and that hurt more than she was willing to admit.

"You know," she confessed, her voice lowering, more serious, "when I got here, I didn’t even know who I was. I couldn’t remember anything—not my name, not where I came from, nothing. All I knew was that something was broken inside me, something I couldn’t fix on my own."

Logan didn’t say anything, but his gaze softened, just a little. It was a subtle change, but Mia noticed it.

"Jean and Scott helped me," she went on. "They showed me this place could be a home, that I didn’t have to be alone. Charles too."

"Ah, yeah, the great Charles Xavier, the saint of all mutants."

Mia frowned, feeling a spark of anger ignite inside her, but she kept calm.

"Look, I’m not saying Charles is perfect. Sometimes he pisses me off too, okay?" she admitted, crossing her arms in a mix of defiance and honesty. "But he saw something in me when I couldn’t see anything. Doesn’t that mean something?"

Logan didn’t respond right away. He just watched her in silence with that intense gaze, the one that seemed to unravel everything she said and didn’t say. Mia felt vulnerable under his scrutiny, but she wasn’t about to back down now.

"Logan," she said softly, her tone gentler, "I know this isn’t easy for you. I’m not stupid. But if you’d let your guard down, even just a little, maybe you’d find something here worth staying for."

The silence between them stretched out. Logan didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t get up and leave, which Mia took as a small victory. For a moment, she thought she’d gotten through to him, even just a tiny bit.

But then Logan finally spoke, his voice as gruff as ever.

"I’m not like you, princess," he muttered. "I don’t need a home or a bunch of people to save me. You, on the other hand, you’ve already let this place trap you."

Each of Logan’s words struck her like a blow to the heart, stirring something deep within her, something she had buried for so long. The “beast” inside her—the raw, chaotic, untamed force—began to stir. It was a part of herself she had suppressed for years, molding herself into the image of what others expected: a hero, a teacher, someone with complete control over her emotions and power.

But Logan, with his brutal honesty, was tearing down those walls bit by bit.

"Trapped?" she repeated, her voice trembling slightly as she struggled to stay composed. "You think I’m trapped? This... this is the closest I’ve ever come to having a life. You don’t understand because you’ve never let yourself have anything like this."

"Something like this?" Logan scoffed, a short, bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Tying myself down has only ever brought me pain, and it’s doing the same to you. Look at yourself. They’ve turned you into what they need—tame, docile. But that’s not who you really are, is it? I can see it, the real you hiding behind that façade. And it didn’t take me years to figure it out. All that control... it’s hanging by a thread, isn’t it?"

His words echoed in Mia’s mind, and something inside her snapped. She could feel the beast pushing, trying to break free, tearing at the walls of her mind. The lights in the room flickered, and a faint electric charge filled the air, a sign of how close she was to losing control.

Mia’s breathing became shallow, her anger swelling inside her like an unstoppable wave. Logan’s words, his dismissive attitude, all of it was pushing her to the edge. It was like he knew, like he wanted her to break down, to prove that he was right, that she was just a fraud.

"I’m not a fraud," she whispered, more to herself than to him, though her voice quivered with indignation. Her hands clenched into fists, and her body began to tremble.

"Of course, you are, doll," Logan replied, stepping closer, as if waiting for her to explode. "You’re pretending to be something you’re not. How much longer before all that control falls apart? Because I can see it, I can feel it in the air. You’re about to snap."

"Don’t you dare talk about what you don’t understand," she managed to say, though her voice sounded weak, almost choked.

"I understand you better than you think," Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous. "That control you’re clinging to—it’s a damn lie. And you know it as well as I do. The only time you’ve ever felt like yourself was in the Danger Room, when you were fighting—free, chaotic, wild. Isn’t that right?"

It was as if those words shattered something inside Mia. The air grew heavier, charged with electricity, and her vision began to blur. The room seemed to spin, and the sound of her own breath roared in her ears. Her body shook, and a sudden dizziness hit her hard.

Logan, who had been watching her closely, stepped forward just as Mia swayed, raising a hand to her head. Everything inside her felt like it was spinning out of control, and before she could stop it, her legs gave way.

"Shit..." Logan muttered, a mix of concern and frustration in his voice as he quickly caught her around the waist before she collapsed completely.

Logan's touch was solid, secure—an unexpected anchor in the storm that raged within Mia’s mind. The wild roar that always threatened to break her control suddenly softened into a gentle purr. The beast inside her—the one she’d learned to suppress for fear of losing herself—calmed in his presence. She didn’t fully understand why, but the peace was so tempting that it almost hurt to let it go.

Logan, for his part, was experiencing something unfamiliar as well. The usual tightness in his chest, that constant tension he'd carried for years, seemed to ease slightly with her so close. He had never felt a need like this—something that made him want to hold on a second longer than necessary. Every fiber of his being told him to let Mia go, but something deeper—something that confused him—made him resist. It was strange, uncomfortable... and at the same time, hard to ignore.

She looked at him, as if trying to figure him out, but didn’t dare dig deeper. However, a small voice in the back of her mind, almost imperceptible, whispered for her to do just that—to explore his mind, to search for answers she couldn’t find on her own. The temptation was strong, a natural impulse, but dangerous. And just when her will was about to break, Scott's voice cut through her thoughts.

“What’s going on here?” Scott asked, his voice tense.

Logan raised an eyebrow, snapping out of his reverie. He’d noticed the tension in Scott, and the temptation to toy with it was too great. His face shifted into a barely perceptible smile, but it was there, hovering on the edge of his lips. Purposefully, he adjusted his grip around Mia’s waist, pulling her just a little closer with a nonchalant attitude.

“Nothing, Summers. Just making sure she doesn’t fall. You wouldn’t want our star professor ending up on the floor, would you?” His voice was deep and deliberately slow, choosing each word like a well-aimed strike.

Scott took a step forward, his eyes fixed on Logan.

“Let her go, Logan.”

“Not sure I’m ready to do that just yet, Summers,” Logan said, his tone loaded with double meaning. “Seems like she enjoys being in good hands. Not something you’d understand, huh?”

The comment was as subtle as a storm, and Scott stepped even closer, clearly on the verge of losing control. Mia, still unsteady but much more aware, could feel the tension between the two men building dangerously. The beast within her was silent, as if it relished the calm and warmth radiating from Logan's body, something that oddly kept her grounded.

“Logan…” Mia said softly, trying to intervene before things spiraled further. “I’m fine. You can let me go.”

But instead of relenting, Logan smirked with his usual arrogance, and with deliberate slowness, he slid his hand from Mia’s waist, making the moment last longer than necessary. His fingers grazed her skin for a second longer than was appropriate, and Mia felt a shiver run through her body, as if the part of her that she’d always struggled to control was responding in a completely different way. It was a feeling of danger, of temptation, but also of control—something she had never felt before.

Scott, however, was about to explode.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Logan?” Scott said, his voice rising as he took another step toward them.

Logan, still in no rush, simply stepped back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, but with a mocking smile that made it clear he wasn’t taking Scott seriously.

“Relax, Summers. Just taking care of her, that’s all,” Logan said, though the double meaning was obvious in every word. “But, you know, if you think you can do a better job…”

Mia stepped in, feeling things slipping out of control.

“That’s enough,” she said, more firmly than she actually felt. She looked at Scott, then at Logan, taking a deep breath to find her center. “I’m fine. Logan just helped me… that’s all.”

Her words were firm, but something inside her resisted letting go of that feeling. That control she’d felt under Logan’s touch. It was new, dangerous… but intoxicating.

Logan glanced at her from the corner of his eye, as if he knew exactly what she was feeling, as if he’d uncovered something about her that even she hadn’t recognized until that moment. He flashed her one last playful, teasing smile before shrugging and heading for the door.

“Catch you later, Summers… Mia.” And with that, he left the room, leaving a tension in the air that still vibrated between the three of them.

Logan closed the door behind him, leaving the tension in the classroom to simmer. Scott still had that mix of concern and jealousy in his gaze. However, he wanted to smooth things over, not let it fester between them. He walked toward Mia cautiously, as if searching for the right moment to speak, but before he could say anything, she broke the silence.

“It’s nothing, really.” Her voice tried to sound casual, but there was something in her tone that betrayed her discomfort.

Scott approached, letting his fingers brush gently against hers—a small gesture, but one that said more than words ever could. He knew her well enough to sense that something was troubling her.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said softly, his concern genuine. “That thing with Logan… was a bit strange.”

Mia looked away, still feeling the warmth from Logan’s touch, a sensation she hadn’t fully processed. She didn’t know how to explain it—to him or to herself. But with Scott there, trying to connect with her, she felt even more divided.

“Yeah, it was…” Mia searched for the words, but nothing seemed right. She could still feel the faint dizziness from Logan’s closeness, that strange tingling that had soothed the beast within her. “I wasn’t expecting a conversation with him to shake me up that much.”

Scott nodded, though he sensed there was more she wasn’t saying. The softness in her words, the lack of direct answers, only fed his doubts. But he wasn’t about to let those feelings take control. He leaned in a little closer, seeking her gaze.

“Mia, all I care about is that you’re okay,” he said, his voice warmer now, as if testing the waters. “Are you sure everything’s fine?”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of guilt—not for Logan, but for the growing mistrust she was beginning to feel toward everything around her. She’d gone to see Charles after her encounter with Logan, and although she hadn’t said it out loud, the conversation with the professor had left her feeling hollow. Like there was more he wasn’t telling her.

“I talked to Charles afterward,” Mia said, her gaze fixed on her hands, still intertwined with Scott’s. “He asked me to try to get along with Logan, to be more… understanding.” She tried to smile, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes. “I guess we don’t know him well enough to judge.”

Scott frowned slightly, not taking his eyes off her. There was something in her tone, in the way she’d mentioned the professor, that made him doubt. He knew Mia had been searching for answers about her past, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it weighed on her more than she let on.

“Charles always has his reasons,” he said tactfully, trying not to sound too firm. “Maybe he’s protecting you, in a way.”

She sighed, unable to ignore the sting she felt whenever Scott talked about Charles. She knew he trusted the professor more than anyone, and part of her wanted to hold onto that security. But there was another part of her that couldn’t stop wondering if Scott was also caught up in the same web of secrets.

“Maybe,” Mia replied, not looking at him directly. “But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more. Something he’s not telling me.”

Scott looked at her intently, as if trying to unravel every layer of what she was saying. He knew she was strong, but he also knew that some things affected her more than she admitted. And while he wanted to believe that Charles always did the right thing, the unease in Mia’s eyes made him doubt for a moment.

“I know this isn’t easy for you,” he said, his voice soft as he sought her gaze. “But I trust that Charles only wants what’s best for us… for you.”

Mia swallowed again, feeling the distance between them grow, even though Scott hadn’t let go of her. The physical closeness didn’t calm that feeling in her chest like it had before, that small flame of distrust that had started to burn. She knew Scott was trying to do the right thing, but deep down, she couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he was keeping things from her too.

“I hope you’re right,” she said quietly, trying not to sound too distant. “I just… I don’t want to lose myself in all of this.”

Scott squeezed her hand a little tighter, trying to offer the support he believed she needed, though deep down, he knew there was something they couldn’t solve with words

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