Old childhood friends, Loki and Astri, are inseparable. What happens when ambition and greed drive it's ugly wedge between them?
Bucky Barnes
Project Genesis
The result of genetic experimentation by Arnim Zola, Project Genesis, yields a new kind of super soldier for the world to fear. Partnered with the Winter Soldier, Genesis goes on a journey that spans decades.
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Series:
á´Ęá´á´ÉŞęąá´ - 18+
After living in Mexico for a year with Logan, your relationship is pushed to new heights when a quiet little girl appears.
á´Ęá´ á´á´Ęá´Ę ĘÉŞę°á´ - 18+
Somewhere in another universe, a blood manipulator and a man with an adamantium skeleton reconnectâthe other life that promised.
One Shots:
ÉŞęą ÉŞá´ É´á´á´Ą Ęá´á´Ęęą Ęá´á´?
Logan is a Scrooge, a kitten snaps him out of it
á´á´ĘĘ ÉŞá´ á´ĄĘá´á´ Ęá´á´ á´Ąá´É´á´
Logan worries over your anniversary and what to buy you
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Logan breaks a lamp, chaos ensues
á´á´É´ęąá´á´Ę á´á´ęąĘ
Wade Wilson knows that no Halloween is complete without a costume
á´á´É´á´ - 18+
Ovulation week is annoying enough as it is, spending it without your boyfriend? Oh that's a whole different story...
Aemond sat the throne now. Itâd been a fortnight since Rooks Rest. Two weeks since Aegon had burned in Vhagarâs flames.Â
Itâd felt good to watch the flames consume his older brother. A sick part of him drew great pleasure knowing that Aegon was being tended to by Maesters while Aemond sat in his council meetings.Â
His mother knew the truth of it. The way she looked at him had him convinced. Cole told her, surely. Still, Aemond knew of their⌠activities together. He could have Ser Criston Cole killed for warming his mother's bed, perhaps one day he would.Â
Rhaenrya had made another move in the week since her biggest dragonâs death. Targaryen bastards had been rounded up and used as fodder in an attempt to claim riderless dragons. It was an interesting approach. Aemond didnât think his half-sister was so bold.Â
Itâd paid off in her favor, his council told him that Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke, and Sheepsteeler had all been claimed.Â
âWe have sent ravens for Daeron to fly to the capital at once.â His mother says
âHe ought to remain where he is.â Aemond says, âHe is more useful protecting our army rather than here.âÂ
Alicentâs head turns to Aemond, her eyes sharp, âRhaenrya has more dragons now. Aegon cannot fly. Helaena is overcome with grief.âÂ
âVhagar can protect the city,â Aemond says calmly, heâs never doubted his dragon riding skill, he has no reason to start now.Â
âMy prince, if Rhaenrya were to fly from Dragonstone and bring Daemon or Vermithor with her you would not be able-âÂ
âYou doubt my abilities to fly my dragon, Lord Strong?âÂ
Larys Strong blinks back at Aemond.Â
âYou cannot even hold your own castle against my uncle, yet you presume to tell me how well I can fly the largest dragon alive.âÂ
The council stares at him, unsure of what to say next.Â
âAs long as we hold Kings Landing, Rhaenrya has nothing.â He says, âShe wants the Iron Throne. I do not intend to give it to her willingly.âÂ
Dragonstone was a buzz. The capture of Prince Aegon and Prince Viserys had Rhaenrya worried and ready to act.Â
âI will go,â Rhaenrya says
âYou cannot,â Rhaella says, stepping in front of the door to her Queen's chambers
âThey are my sons, Rhaella. I will retrieve them myself.â Rhaenrya aruges
Was it treason to keep the queen from leaving her chambers? Rhaella stood infront of the door, her arms outstretched like a fool.Â
âAll it takes is one arrow from a Triarchyâs sailor, and you could be killed, mother,â Jace saysÂ
âYou cannot fly against them.â Rhaella says, âLord Corlys will retrieve Aegon and Viserys.â
âA dragon could-âÂ
âWe all must remain here,â Jace argues over her, âWe are safest here.âÂ
âJace is right. We must trust Lord Corlysâ strength.â Rhaella says, nodding at her dark haired cousinÂ
They continue on like this for another ten minutes before eventually, Rhaella leaves Rhaenrya with Jace. She stands in the hall,listening to the two of them argue as she slides the door shut.Â
Sheâs not expecting to see Baela waiting for her in the hall, a suspicious look on her face.
âDo you believe my grandfather will be able to rescue them?â She asksÂ
Rhaella looks at her, hesitant to say her answer, âYes.âÂ
Baela shakes her head, stepping closer to Rhaella to take her hand in hers.
âYouâre a terrible liar, sister.âÂ
Sona bellowed as Rhaella commanded her to fly faster. Wind whipped at her hair as her eyes scanned the ocean waters far below her. Moondancer was right behind her, Baela on her back as the clouds rushed by.Â
Rhaellaâs palms were sweaty; sheâd never burned anyone alive, yet she was flying to meet a host of ships holding her little cousins hostage. They would not give up crowned princes without a fight.Â
Her mind swims, trying to conjure up some form of courage to keep her breakfast in her belly and not on Sonaâs saddle. Horrifingly, her mind seemed to be empty of things that might calm her. Itâd only been two weeks since Rhaenys had died, Aemond and Vhagar had killed her with help from Sunfyre and Aegon. Rhaenys had been an experienced rider, her dragon bigger than Sona and yet she lay dead now.
 Right now, she could be flying to a watery grave.Â
âRhaella!âÂ
Baelaâs loud shout has her looking down. A host of ships below them, they were too far up to see their sigils but Rhaella was sure the Seasnake was below her.Â
Rhaella gripped Sonaâs saddle, trying to quell her fears as her mind raced. Who did she know that would be fearless in a situation like this? She was flying to kill men on those ships, this was no leisure flight.Â
Aemond.Â
He is the only thought that fills her mind as she stares down at the gullet. She was sure he didnât feel fear two weeks ago, brazenly telling her his plans, kissing her, killing Rhaenys the next day. Always so confident things would go his way.
Even now, she envied him and his fearlessness despite using it for so many wrong things. It was a trait sheâd have to question him about before killing him.Â
Sona dove towards the ships and Rhaellaâs heart pounded. Her lips open, ready to give the command to incenerate the closest and smallest ship when another voice cut her off.Â
âDracarys!âÂ
Bright green flashed past her as Jacaerys and Vermax passed her.Â
Seven hells, heâd followed them from Dragonstone.Â
Rhaella watched him direct Vermax into a dive, speeding past ships as arrows and bolts from crossbows flew past them.Â
Jace was headed to the front of this line of ships.
The largest ship was at the front, that was where the captain of these vessels was hiding and surely holding Aegon and Viserys.Â
Rhaella pulled Sona up, she couldnât get too close to the water, Sonaâs big body would be swallowed by the water and sheâd be shot off her back.Â
Smoke from the burning ship choked the air and made her eyes burn as Rhaella circled in the air. Jace and Vermax were covered by the shadow of smoke as another ship went up in flames.Â
The sounds of screaming men filled her ears as she accessed the situation. Baela was still above her, the two of them could burn the ships, leave the largest for last and let Corlys handle storming the ship its self.Â
She steered Sona lower, into the smoke and the scent of burning flesh. Arrows flew below her as Rhaella tried to locate Jace in the haze. He needed to pull up, flying too low to water was dangerous.Â
A flash of green against the scene caught her eye, Vermax! There they were!
The shuddering sound of cracking wood filled her ears, and the sight of the mast with Velaryonâs sigil on a huge sail blocked her vision for a moment.Â
âJace!â Rhaella yelled futilely into the carnage
Heâd never hear her like this; sheâd need to be closer.Â
âJikagon, Sona.âÂ
Go
She followed Jaceâs path but stopped short. The Seasnakeâs sail burned in the water and the sight of a green dragonâs wing had her pulling up and away from the fight. Vermax did not move as the waves washed over him. Beside him, Jacaerysâ dead body floated, tangled in the burning sail, multiple bolts from a crossbow stuck out from his body.
She heard gleeful shouts from the men below, and she knew he was gone.Â
The Battle of the Gullet raged on through the day and into the night. Rhaella burned dozens of ships and had the scent of blackened flesh mixed with sea water was seared into her mind when it was all over. Covered in ash dust and a heavy heart, filled with despair, she landed on the beach at Dragonstone.Â
Sona remained at her side as she looked up at the night sky and then down at her dirty hands. Her skin was covered in ash, and black clung to her so much that she was beginning to match her riding clothes.Â
She reeked of death as she entered the castle, weary and hopeless. Her heart felt heavy as she handed Sona off to the keepers.
Rhaenrya stood over the painted table when she entered, her council surrounding her in dead silenceÂ
âSpicetown burns, your Grace, and much of the Velaryon fleet is lost.â Someone reports but Rhaellaâs attention is fixed on Rhaenrya.
âJacaerys?â Rhaenrya asks, her eyes fixed on Rhaella.Â
What does one say to a mother who has already lost so much? Rhaellaâs lips cannot form the words to tell her Queen her first son has been killed. Her body might as well be made of lead as she shakes her head in shame.Â
The Dragon Queen is silent, staring at Rhaella with a blank look on her face. Then, almost as quickly as Rhaella could blink, Rhaenrya was dismissing them all.Â
Rhaella sat in her chambers, a bath had been drawn yet she made to effort to climb into it. She sat on the ground, running a hand through her tangled hair as her mind spun.
What had gone wrong today? Just hours ago Jace had been alive, standing beside her as theyâd told Rhaenrya of how dangerous itâd be to fly to the gullet.Â
Heâd been in the air just before the mast fell, she was sure of it. Yet, mere seconds later he was dead, floating in the water.Â
It felt unreal, perhaps it was. Maybe he was hiding around her door right now, ready to enter and say something that might upset her. Rhaella remembered how theyâd first met. Heâd been so small, arguing with Lucerys about who might enter her room first. Loud and spirted heâd been arguing with Aegon of all people.Â
No, it was real, sheâd seen it herself, watched as the sea swallowed him whole. Sheâd seen Jaceâs body, the way his eyes had rolled back and how the salty waters had pushed his dark curls back. It was an image she seen with her two eyes and, it was also an image sheâd never forget.Â
Jacaerys Velaryon was dead. Maester Orwyle had whispered it to Aegon while tending to the many burns that littered his body.Â
Aegon supposed he should be glad. His sisterâs heir was dead, just like his was.
The feel of victory was short lived. This death would not undo the past two weeks. He was still immobile, stuck on milk of the poppy while Orwyle scrapped off blackened flesh and Aegonâs dignity with it. Aemond warmed his throne while Helaenaâs madness had the maids whispering amongst themselves.Â
His mother visited him each day. She never stayed long and usually remained silent during the visits. Aegon felt something in his stomach churn when he saw her, at some point he deduced that the feeling was the simple desire for affection. He wished sheâd cradle him, perhaps stroke what was left of his hair and attempt to chase away the pain the way mothers often did, through love.Â
Aemond visited him the day after Jacaerysâ death. Aegon hadnât seen him since Rooks Rest. The air was uneasy and thick with tension as he looked at his little brother from his bed.Â
âJacaerys has been slain.â Aemond reports blandly as he sits in the chair their mother often used, âKilled by the Triarchy.âÂ
âI know. Orwyle told me.â Aegon wheezesÂ
Aemond lets out a hum, âI hear he expects you to make a full recovery.âÂ
If Aegon could, he wouldâve smiled, âDoes that displease you?âÂ
Some little brother he had, if Aemond thought heâd forgotten about letting Vhagar burn him heâd truly lost his mind.Â
âWhen you have recovered, we will make a move against Rhaenryaâs dragons. I will convince Helaena to fly Dreamfyre.â Aemond says, âDaeron and Tessarion guard the Hightower host and will help us sack whatever army Daemon has mustered up from Harrenhal.âÂ
Now Aemond wanted to play the dutiful brother. How long would this farse last, Aegon wondered. Larys Strong had been adamant than Aemond would kill him soon yet, now Aemond was planning for the future with Aegon at his side.Â
Although, he supposed this new strategy would be because of Rhaenrya and her army of bastard dragon riders. Vhagar could not kill them all.
âWith what dragon do you plan to have me make this assault with?â Aegon asks, âSunfyre is unrideable. Not to mention I cannot even stand to piss, let alone walk down that very hall.â
Aemond glared at Aegon, a look Aegon had been receiving since Aemond was old enough to walk.Â
âWhat will she think of all this?â Aegon coughsÂ
âHelaena will ride.â Aemond snaps, âI will chain her to Dreamfyre if she refuses.âÂ
âNot her. Though Iâd love to see that discussion, I mean Rhaella.â Aegon says, âWill you burn your childhood companion the way you did me?âÂ
Aegon was satisfied. It was rare that he got the last word when it came to Aemond. His smart little brother was silent; clearly, Aegon had hit a nerve. Heâd known about Aemond's crush turned obsession since they were boys.Â
âForgot about her, did you? Surely she wonât let you fly unchallenged against her queen.â Aegon says, âYou'll need to kill her to seat yourself on my throne.âÂ
Aemondâs face is holding a look Aegon has never seen on his brother's face. He could only coin it as fear. Aegon found it amusing Aemond didn't comment on the fact that he clearly knew his little brother's desire for the throne.
âRhaella is not important to me anymore. She hasnât been since she left the Keep weeks ago.â Aemond waves Aegon off, âA traitorous cunt.â Â
Aegon scoffs; if it didnât pain him to laugh, heâd be snorting by now.Â
âYouâre a shit liar, Aemond.âÂ
His brother rises, staring at Aegon. Perhaps this was it. Maybe Aemond would smother him with the pillow that was propping his leg up. Or perhaps heâd use the dagger that was fastened to his belt, the same one their father once carried with him everywhere. Make a mess of the royal apartments and scare the maids half to death.Â
Aemondâs mouth twitches, he blinks twice before speaking again. The words that come out surprise Aegon,Â
âShe will die screaming.âÂ
Next Part
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everyone on replies is terrified of this fact but i just think it's so sweet and heartwarming. she's holding our hand and leading us somewhere secret and we're both giggling like kids. i love her
Four days had passed since her fatherâs departure for Harrenhal. Rhaella spent her days feeling rather useless and out of place. She sat in on council meetings, listening to old men run their mouths to Rhaenrya.Â
She fiddled with the sleeve of her dress as Rhaenys pushed for discussions rather than dragonfire. Rhaella's mind swam with uncertainty just last night, thereâd been an attempt on the queen's life after Aegonâs Kingsguard, Ser Arryk slipped into the castle pretending to be his twin. In Rhaellaâs mind, an action like that could not go unpunished.Â
The sun slipped below the horizon as Rhaella took her supper with her half-sisters.Â
âIs Rhaenrya truly going to let you out on patrol?â Rhaella asks Baela as she takes a forkful of the sweet potato on her plate.Â
âYes, and Iâm sure sheâd let you go if you asked. You have the third-largest dragon in our host.â Baela saysÂ
Rhaella thinks of Sona. She hadnât seen her dragon since sheâd landed on the sandy beach of Dragonstone. Perhaps sheâd have to take Baela up on her suggestion.Â
âYou have been quiet these past few days.â Rhaena says, âAre you angry with us?âÂ
âNo,â Rhaella stammers, âI justâŚI feel out of place here, that's all.âÂ
âYou miss him. Aemond, I mean.â Baela says, a frown on her face.Â
âI do not. He is a traitor. He locked me in a room and then dragged me to Aegonâs false coronation.â Rhaella says, âHe killed Luke!âÂ
In truth, she did miss Aemond. Though she did not miss the man sheâd fought in the Dragonpit, she preferred the sweet, shy boy she grew up with. She missed their long talks and who he was before he let Vhagar eat Luke. Just a fortnight ago, theyâd been swimming at night together and Rhaella had been wrapped around him.Â
That night she donned her riding clothes for the first time since her arrival. The keepers brought her a restless Sona, and Rhaella whispered her apologies to the massive white beast. Â
The night air is peaceful as she flies above the Blackwater. Sonaâs belly nearly touches the water as Rhaella stares at the stars above. Perhaps she should have Sona turn about and fly off to the Free Cities. What was there for her here? Her only true friend was dead, claimed by old age. Her ancestral seat was a stranger to her, being ruled by her cousin in her stead. Nothing awaited her at Dragonstone, only war and death and more talk of war.Â
Aemond was listless. He spent his days planning his brotherâs war and his nights with Sylvi or the silver-haired girl heâd encountered the night Jaeharys had been killed. Tonight was not a night for whorehouses, though. Tomorrow, heâd fly to meet Cole with their plan of drawing one of Rhaenryaâs dragons to its death.Â
He should be in bed, not staring into the fireplace, wondering what itâd be like if heâd dragged Rhaella back to the castle with him.Â
He was angry with her. Angry for attacking him. Angry that she refused to back Aegonâs claim. Angry that sheâd left him.Â
Aemondâs eye flicked to the ashes of Rhaellaâs beloved Maester Edric. He had half a mind to open his window and dump them out, let the winds carry him off. Instead, his hand reached for his eyepatch, slipping it on before disappearing from his chambers entirely.Â
Sona bellowed loudly. Rhaellaâs gaze left the stars as she focused on the shores of King's Landing that were still far off in the distance. Above the treeline, a great dark shadow was rising. She knew exactly whose dragon that was. She whispered for her own dragon to stay calm before beginning to turn about. Aemond might see her and take it as an attack.Â
Rhaella had barely turned Sona around when she heard Vhagar let out a sound.Â
Fuck, he saw her.Â
Aemond saw the glitter of white on the Blackwater the moment Vhagar had lifted them above the treeline. Before he could truly think about it, he let out the command for Vhagar to follow Rhaella and Sona.Â
Vhagarâs massive wings flapped as Sona flew ahead. Despite being smaller Rhaellaâs dragon was quicker than Vhagar. Not as fast as Melys but fast enough that Aemond knew Vhagar would have trouble in a race.Â
He follows her for what seems like an age. Up the coast and into what Aemond swore was the edge of the Vale. Eventually, Sona disappears into the trees, and Aemond follows quickly.Â
His feet have barely touched the ground before he hears her voice.Â
âLeave me alone.âÂ
Rhaella is hiding somewhere in these dark woods.Â
Aemond doesnât have the best vision in the night. He was already missing an eye and the one he had left wasnât adept to dark walks through the forests that sat at the edge of the Vale.Â
âWe are near your home. Your ancestral one anyway.â Aemond responds, they were probably only an hour long flight from Runestone.Â
âFly back to Kings Landing and I wonât burn you alive.â Rhaella saysÂ
Aemond feels a smirk tug at his lips, âYou threatened me with that last time too. If you want people to start taking you seriously you need to follow through.âÂ
A glimmer of white catches his eye. There she is. Rhaella could use Sonaâs speed to her advantage but there was no arguing that her whiter than snow dragon would never be able to hide in a forest.Â
Aemond pushes his way through the brush to find Sonaâs large mouth on the other side, Rhaella atop her dragon as she stared down at him.Â
The moon was bright behind her as Aemond stared up at the shadow that was his cousin.Â
âCome down from there.â He says quickly, âI cannot see you like this.âÂ
âI can see you just fine like this.â Rhaellaâs voice saysÂ
Aemond can tell sheâs trying to act tough. Most likely sheâs unarmed probably just out for a nighttime flight the way he had been. Theyâd always been so alike. Aemondâs sword sits heavy at his side. He never went anywhere without it.Â
âYou look awful.â Rhaella saysÂ
âYou flatter me.â Aemond humsÂ
A moment passes, maybe two before Aemond hears the sound of Rhaella sliding off her dragon. Sona growls as he approaches and Aemond hears a murmur of High Valyrian before the dragon backs off.Â
She is as radiant as he remembers her. Perhaps even moreso. His hands twitch at his sides as he remembers the kiss from the last time he saw her.Â
âAre you going to cut me down with that?âÂ
Aemond follows her gaze to where her eyes rest on his sword, âIf you give me reason to.âÂ
Rhaella shakes her head, âThis is ridiculous. I am leaving.âÂ
No. She cannot leave. Not yet!Â
Aemond lunges forward, grabbing her forearm with far too much force.Â
âLet me go, Aemond.âÂ
His name sounds nice on her lips. Heâs forgotten why he was so upset with her earlier. Heâs missed this, being close to her. The scent of lavender oil from her hair fills his nose as he stares down at her.Â
âYou look tired.â He comments, staring at the dark circles under her eyes.Â
âYes well, it has been a long day and you are making it even longer by holding me here.â She twists in his grasp
âYou are the one who flew us all the way here.â Aemond reminds herÂ
âYou chased me.â Rhaella glaresÂ
Aemond lets her arm go and Rhaella doesnât move from her spot.Â
âYou donât feel any remorse, do you?â She questionsÂ
Remorse? All he did was follow her. She and her dragon were perfectly safe right now.Â
âFor Luke. You stand there waiting for me to welcome you back to my side yet you make no move to make amends.âÂ
Aemondâs brow furrows, âWhy should I apologize to you? You are not his mother. You grew up with me, not him and yet, you swear allegiance to my half-sister.âÂ
âAegon is a usurper. Viserys set the succession; your mother has no power to change it.â Rhaella argues backÂ
Aemond shakes his head, âYou are deluded. Daemonâs lies have taken root in your mind. I feel sorry for you.âÂ
Rhaella glares at him, if looks could kill, Aemond would be burnt to ashes by her dragon by now.Â
Aemond expects her to leave, to turn around and curse him as she flies off. Instead, she collapses, sitting on the grass at his feet as she groans. Sheâs surprised him again. Always so unpredictable.Â
Aemond sits beside her, removing his sword from his side and tossing it to the ground as he crosses his legs.Â
A groan escapes Rhaella as she runs a hand down her face.Â
âYou are upset.â He statesÂ
âYes, I am.â She sighsÂ
âI am the cause?âÂ
âYou are part of it.â She hums, âI justâŚI wish I could go back to our lives a few moons ago. Things were so simple then.âÂ
He stares at the way her dark black riding clothes contrast with his green ones.Â
âThey can be.â He finds himself saying, âYou can come back to Kings Landing with me. I can tell my mother and Aegon that you donât wish to fight, we can go back to normal there.âÂ
For a second he thinks his plan has been accepted, that Rhaella is ready to follow him back to the Red Keep and pore over a book with him in his chambers.Â
âYou are a fool.âÂ
Aemond feels his face sour as Rhaella stares at him. She was the fool. Heâd just extended his hand to her, a way out of her current situation, a path back to him.
âI am the fool? You pledge yourself to Rhaenrya yet donât want to fight for her cause.â Aemond snaps, âSo, I ask, who is the true fool among us?âÂ
âI never said I would not fight.â Rhaellaâs eyes narrow, an unreadable look on her face.
âThen why,â He leans closer to her, their noses just inches apart, âAm I still breathing?âÂ
Rhaella scoffs, rolling her eyes, âYou wish to have an honorless death? Eaten by a dragon in the woods in the middle of the night?âÂ
âHonor is for foolish knights,â Aemond hums, âI didnât take you for one. Tell me, when did they start knighting women?âÂ
To his disappointment, Rhaella does not give Sona word to kill him, instead, she inches away from him, a sad sigh escaping her lips. Her brow furs as she stares at him eyes full of remorse or perhaps regret? Aemond canât place the emotion sheâs staring at him with. All he knows is that he wishes to relieve it.Â
Aemondâs fingers twitch. He wants to reach out, bring her into him, tell her things will be alright, that sheâs safe with him. Instead, he finds himself opening his mouth,Â
âCole marches on Rooks Rest. Heâll be there tomorrow afternoon.âÂ
âAnd you expect me to do what with this information? Take it to Rhaenrya so that you might ambush one of us when we leave Dragonstone? Do you honestly think Iâll believe you? For all I know, Cole is asleep in the Red Keep right now.â She saysÂ
Rhaella stands up, her back facing Aemond as he remains on the ground.Â
âNo, you donât,â She says, âBut you want to.âÂ
Baela confirmed Aemondâs statement the next day. Out on patrol, sheâd spotted Cole and given chase.Â
Rhaella was sour that sheâd missed it, Criston Cole was lucky it had been Moondancer hunting him and not Sona. Now, she stood in the hall at Dragonstone listening to Rhaenryaâs council debate what was to be done about the Hightower host marching for Rooks Rest.Â
âVhagar will surely be there. Aemond would not tell Rhaella of the Hightowerâs plans without one of his own.â Jace says, âWe cannot just fly there without a real plan.âÂ
âWe also cannot allow Lord Staunton to remain unprotected,â Rhaenrya says to her son
Rhaella stares at the painted table, she found herself wishing Daemon were here. Sheâd heard he and Rhaenrya had a disagreement over Jaehearysâ death and that Rhaenryaâs ravens to Harrenhal were going unanswered by her father.Â
She still didnât like him much but she was well aware of the edge he and Caraxes brought to their cause.Â
âYou must send me, Your Grace.âÂ
Rhaella looked up to see Rhaenys speaking. She hadnât truly spoken to Rhaenys in years, not since Rhaella found out sheâd been keeping Lady Rheaâs true death a secret.Â
âMeleys is your biggest dragon. We can burn Coleâs army and fight Vhagar if she and Aemond decide to show.âÂ
The matter was decided, Rhaella watched as Rhaenys disappeared from the room to change from the black dress she wore.Â
Rhaella found herself tongue tied. She was weary, still in her riding clothes from last night, she hadnât slept since leaving Aemond in the woods.Â
Heâd let her go last night despite the clear chance he had to cut her down or her chase her with Vhagar.Â
Jace found her side with ease, perhaps she was becoming predictable with her thoughts.Â
âDo not tell me you are going to fly as well.â Jace says as he stands beside you, watching the council disperse.Â
Rhaella looks at him guitily, âHow can I not? I delivered the news from Aemond yet I make no move to fight. It would be cowardly to not.âÂ
âRhaenys is more experienced and Meleys has combat experience. Not to mention Sona is smaller than Meleys.â Jace points out, throwing the words Rhaenrya had just said to him in Rhaellaâs face.
Rhaella sighs, she knows he is right. She loved Sona, loved riding her but flights for leisure did not mean sheâd do well in battle.Â
âLast night, AemondâŚall he did was follow you to the woods to tell you all this?â Jace asksÂ
âHe tried to convince me to go back to Kings Landing with him.â Rhaella saysÂ
Jace nods, his eyes scanning her face, âNothing else?âÂ
âNo, nothing else.âÂ
Aemond waited in the trees for Coleâs signal. Vhagar was asleep beneath him, a bed of flattened trees beneath her giant body. His eye scanned the sky and his ears listened for the possible sound of a dragon.Â
He was sure he looked focused yet he found himself thinking of last night. He hadnât slept after he and Rhaellaâs moonlit meeting.Â
âBut you want to.â
Control? Was that how she saw it? Aemond didnât think devotion was control. He wanted her safe. Yet, she insisted on serving Rhaenrya and putting herself in danger.Â
If he closed his eye he could still picture her, Rhaella and her sad eyes, the way theyâd widened when heâd stood up and closed the distance between them.Â
Her lips were soft and tasted of something sweet as Aemond devoured her. Sheâd gasped into him before messily returning the kiss. He held her so tight against his chest, his clothes mightâve swallowed her whole.Â
His mind was fuzzy, and his chest felt warm as her hands slid to rest and curl against his chest. Her lips had been red when theyâd separated. A blush dusting across her soft features, Aemond was sure he had one to match.Â
âI must leave.â
Rhaella was intoxicating, a drug sent from the gods to entrap him and force him to bend to her will.
 Even now, moments from battle, he was thinking of her. Would she fly before him? Perhaps sheâd burn him alive today, maybe heâd even let her.Â
The sound of flapping wings and a dragonâs screech filled his ears. His head turned upwards, he hadnât expected the Blacks to approach from this angle.Â
Shimmering gold met his eye, this was not one of Rhaenryaâs dragons.Â
Instead of Rhaella and Sona, Aemond watched his older brother fly above him. His mind raced, the idea of Aegon flying to meet whatever dragon Rhaenrya had sent. Heâd be killed, surely. Aegon had never been the best rider; his dragon was young, a beautiful beast, but not one that could fight if Daemon decided to fly back from Harrenhal.Â
Perhaps he should just remain here, let the gods decide his brother's fate.Â
Horns sounded, this was the signal. Yet, Aemond hesitated.Â
A memory of another moonlit night crossed his mind. The night his father had died, and heâd gone swimming with Rhaella. His emotions had run high that night, as they often did when Rhaella was close to him. One thing he did know, though, was recalling the feeling of wishing for that moment to last forever.Â
Another loud screech fills his ears. Aegon was fighting.Â
Aemondâs mouth opens,Â
âSoves, Vhagarâ
Next Part
Very excited for the next few chapters. They've been so fun to write and develop Aemond and Rhaella in them. Harrenhal arc here we come :)
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Rhaella had been accepted by Rhaenrya almost immediately. Daemon picked her brain for answers about what Otto and Alicent Hightower had planned next. She told him what she could, how she spent her days locked away, only being allowed to visit Edric in the next room over.Â
Her chamber was next to Jacaerysâ. Heâd visited her earlier, told her she was welcome to wear anything in the wardrobe and large dresser. An old dress of Rhaenryaâs sat on her body. It was out of fashion by nearly two decades, something from before she had Jace. Rhaella studied the needlework of red and black that ran up the arms of the dress.
âYouâre allowed to leave this room.âÂ
Daemon stood in the doorway, his face strangely devoid of the smirk she often saw him wear.Â
âAnd go where?â She humsÂ
He enters without permission, making himself at home as he sits at the foot of her new bed, just an arms length away from her at the head.Â
âYou said you were stopped by Aemond before getting on Sona.â Daemon saysÂ
âHe was waiting for me in the Pit.â She recountsÂ
âAnd he justâŚlet you go?â Daemon musesÂ
Rhaella cursed him. How could he see so clearly? Was it parental intuition? Perhaps a secret sixth sense he kept hidden all these years.Â
âWe argued about my departure. I threatened to burn us both alive if he did not let me pass.â She says, carefully leaving the kiss out of the narrative.Â
âAnd you did not think to burn him alive on the way out of the Pit? Surely he was defenseless once you were on dragonback.âÂ
Rhaella didnât, well couldnât, admit to her father that sheâd spent nearly five full minutes after Aemond kissed her on her arse in the dirt. By the time sheâd mounted Sona, heâd vanished entirely.Â
Daemon pats her knee, âThereâs no use in focusing on what couldâve been. After tonight, it wonât matter what you didnât do to him.âÂ
Rhaella nods before her gaze snaps up, digesting Daemonâs words, âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âA son for a son.â He says plainly, âI have given word that Aemond will be killed tonight. To pay his debt for Lucerys.âÂ
Rhaella wonders if he can see the way her heart drops to her feet, âAnd the Queen has consented to this?âÂ
Daemon gives her a look, one she canât decipher if it means yes or no. Then, as if heâs just dropped in to tell her of the weather, he stands to leave again, âI fly for Harrenhal tomorrow afternoon, Iâll see you before then.âÂ
The door swings shut and Rhaella feels her heart skip a beat. Daemon has coordinated with some unknown force that is being sent to kill Aemond. A part of her wants to warn him, tell him to flee Kings Landing and fly far away on Vhagar so that Daemonâs assassins might never find him. Another part of her wants him to remain in the castle. A sick, twisted side of her wants to see him punished for Lucerys.Â
Conflicted, she stands ready to follow Daemon and press the matter further, or perhaps ask her queen if this was truly the correct path. What she isnât expecting is her chamber door to be locked from the outside. Seething, she curses Daemon and bangs her hands raw on the door.Â
From the other side, she hears a faint click of shoes, heâd just walked away.Â
Aemond stared at the scroll in his fingers. Edric had died just this morning, or well, had been dead this morning when Helaena found him. Heâd been burned and his ashes were currently sitting on Aemondâs dresser in an urn. His mother had originally told the Silent Sisters to dispose of them until he had stepped in. Heâd never been fond of Maester Edric, yet he also had no quarrel with him either.Â
It was when the ashes were delivered in the late afternoon that Aemond realized there was no way Rhaella would know of his death unless someone from the Red Keep told her of it. This led him to where he was now, staring at a small piece of paper that announced the death of his friendâs father figure.Â
He runs a hand over his face, brushing his finger along his lip. If he focuses, he can still taste Rhaella there. Heâs glad he kissed her. Now, if he died tomorrow, heâd at least die with one less regret about his existence. In another world, the kiss mightâve convinced her to stay. If Aemond had his way heâd be lounging in bed with Rhaella now, fiddling with her long hair as she laughed and ate the grapes that sat on his nightstand. In this perfect vision, Edric was alive and well, and Aemond wasnât writing of his demise to a woman who just tried stabbing him in the face with a dagger from the father she claimed to hate.Â
He rolls his shoulders; heâs tense. Far too tense for the current situation. He needs to relax. His eye flicks to the window. The sun is a small sliver on the horizon. Quickly, he rises and summons a serving girl to carry his message to Maester Orwyle so it might reach Rhaella.Â
The Street of Silk welcomes him as he makes his way through it, silver hair hidden beneath a cloak. He doesnât need every peasant knowing a Targaryen is passing them.Â
The Madame is busy when he arrives. Aemond isnât one to wait. Patience has never been his strong suit. Yet, he makes no quip to the attendant to tell her to hurry up with whatever man sheâs with.Â
Instead, he lounges lazily on a comfortable chair, taking in the environment around him. Half dressed and fully naked girls giggle loudly, leading men to veiled off chambers. Incense burns and somewhere a man pukes leading to a loud scream of disgust from a whore.Â
Aemond finds his lips quirking into an amused smile when she runs past him, tits covered in vomit while the man has passed out on the ground.Â
He reaches for a serving boy who passes with a tray of wine, selecting a cup before shooing the boy away. Heâs taken more than one sip before a delicate hand weaves its way down his torso.Â
âMy Prince.âÂ
A whore heâs never seen greets him, a sly smile on her painted lips.Â
Normally, he tells other whores to leave, heâs only felt interest in Sylvi. Yet, this one in particular has him pausing. Its not the shape of her arse or her smile that has him intrigued but the hair that sprouts from her head.Â
Long sliver locks tumble down her body, contrasting the soft blue silk robe she covers herself with. They curl and messily frame her features.Â
âDo I please you, Prince Aemond?â She asks sweetlyÂ
âYour hair. Is it a wig?â He asks sipping his wineÂ
âTisâ my own.â She smilesÂ
Apart of Aemond wonders if this girl is a bastard, Perhaps Daemon got too zealous twenty odd years ago before his half sister married him.Â
âShall we go somewhere private?â She humsÂ
Aemond allows her to lead him to a room. He lets her strip and watches dully as she dances to the music that flows through the brothel.Â
âDo I bore you?â She asks, âI can do something else if you prefer. Most men like to watch before they have me.â
Aemondâs eye flicks down her torso. No, sheâs not quite right. Hips too broad and nose slightly crooked. He focuses on her chest, watching her hands ghost over her breasts when she sees him looking. Theyâre not half bad yet, his body knows it's not what he wants standing in front of him.Â
âKeep dancing.â He ordersÂ
The Red Keep is quiet when he slips back in. A rat scuttles by as he reaches his chambers. Aegon had hired rat catchers after Helaena mumbled something about being afraid of them, yet they still crawled all over. Clearly, they werenât doing their job well.Â
He pushes the door to his chambers open and is shocked to find his mother sitting in his room.Â
âMother.â He greetsÂ
His mother picks at her fingernails, a habit of hers that Aemond noticed when he was a little boy. Her hair is messy and unstyled. What strikes him, though, is how sheâs still awake. Ordinarily, she is fast asleep by now.
âWhere were you?âÂ
Her voice is raw and scratchy. Sheâs yet to make eye contact with Aemond and instead is still staring at the map of Westeros before her.Â
âDoes it matter?â Aemond asks, heâs not interested in telling her about his time at the brothel.
âJaehaerys is dead.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âA rat catcher cut his head off.â Alicent saysÂ
Aemond opens his mouth, ready to ask about Aegon when a loud crash anwsers his question instead. Distanly he can hear his brotherâs enraged yelling.
âNow, answer me.â Alicent is looking at him now, âWhere were you?âÂ
Rhaella stares at the raven scroll. Aemondâs writing is scrawled across it, sheâd know his handwriting anywhere. Edric was dead and Aemond kept his ashes for her.Â
She wept for Edric. Had he died because he left him? Did Alicent poison him as punishment for leaving the castle? Perhaps it was old age catching up? Aemond did not list a cause of death, just that he was dead and had been cremated.Â
Baela and Rhaena tried to console their half sister. They took their supper with her and offered her their desserts. The two girls tried to lighten the mood by speaking of Baelaâs engagement to Jace.Â
 They watched carefully as Rhaella remained curled up in bed, shimmering dress still on. Baela suggested a short flight on Sona, saying flying might help clear the mind. Rhaella brushed her off telling her to go to bed.Â
The castle was asleep when Rhaella finally left her chambers. Dressed in a simple nightdress and robe, sheâs not sure what sheâs looking for. For so many years she spent restless nights in the library, Aemond pressed to her side as they read tales about old Valyria.
Her feet carry her to Dragonstoneâs small library. Sheâs expecting to be entirely alone in the small room yet she opens the door to find Jace paging through a book.Â
âI did not know you even knew how to read.â Rhaella greets her cousinÂ
âIâm not seven anymore.â Jace laughs
âNo, you're not.â Rhaella sighs, settling into the chair across from him, âA page turner?âÂ
âIn truth, I could not tell you what Iâve been reading. Iâve been staring at the same sentence for nearly half an hour now.â Jace sighs loudlyÂ
Rhaella nods, wrapping the soft blue robe around her shivering. The damp walls of Dragonstone seemed darker than they used to be. Perhaps it was the night air or the nagging feeling of how she missed the Red Keep.Â
âNow that my mother has put Luke to rest, she and Daemon will begin their plans to kill Aegon,â Jace says into the stillness of the roomÂ
âDo you truly think she will ever really be able to put Luke to rest?â Rhaella asks slowly, âI think she is thinking of him right now.âÂ
âDepressive thoughts will not win her the throne.â Jace counters, âSheâll have to take action. Use her dragons to her advantage.âÂ
Rhaella snorts, âYou sound just like him.âÂ
Jaceâs sharp features flicker in the soft candle light as his eyes meet hers.Â
âDaemon, I mean. You sound exactly like him.â Rhaella saysÂ
âYou know I am right, we cannot sit about while The Greens simply do as they please.â Jace reminds herÂ
âOh Iâm well aware.â Rhaella hums, her mind drifting to Aemond.Â
Jace stares at his cousin. It was as if sheâd aged since just a few days ago, when he saw her at dinner, when his Grandsire was still living. Heâd heard of how sheâd been locked away by Alicent Hightower and been forced to attend Aegonâs false coronation.Â
He tries to decipher what she might be thinking of now, wrapped up in that blue silk robe and white nightdress. Instead, his mind drifts to the way her silver hair is freed from its usual styles. It falls it soft waves and shrouds her in an angelic glow
 A pang of jealousy brews in his stomach. If heâd taken his motherâs coloring rather than Ser Harwin's, perhaps his life would be easier. Perhaps Luke would be alive if heâd had silver curls rather than brown. The gods had blessed Rhaella in the womb, let her take after Daemon rather than Rhea Royce. Jace felt as if his looks had been cursed; heâd had the same odds as Rhaella to inherit Targaryen looks, yet here he sat, with dark curls and even darker eyes.Â
âIs there something on my face?â Rhaella asks, snapping Jace from his thoughts about hair color and lines of successionÂ
âNo.â He shakes his head, âI havenât seen you with your hair down. Itâs nice like that.âÂ
Rhaella rolls her eyes, âArenât you already betrothed?â
Rhaella watches, amused, as Jaceâs face goes red at her comment.Â
âI did not mean it like that.â He groansÂ
âI jest.â She waves him off, âYou and Baela make a fine couple.âÂ
Jace stares at her, âIn truth Iâm not sure if she likes me much. At least not in the way of marriage.âÂ
âHours ago she was just talking about how youâll make a good husband one day.â Rhaella says trying to calm his fears. Â
Jace slowly nods, âAnd what do you think?âÂ
Rhaella gives him a small laugh, âI think youâll be a great king one day. As for a husband, there are many awful men in the Seven Kingdoms to be married to. Baela is lucky you are kind.âÂ
âI suppose youâre right. If you hadnât left Kings Landing when you did, you mightâve been forced to marry Aemond.âÂ
Rhaella gives him a thin, tight-lipped smile, âAnd that wouldâve been a nightmare.âÂ
This was barely edited, sorry for typos.
Thinking about writing for Ser Duncan the Tall. Would just be a one shot though, not a series. I dunno maybe I will, maybe not.
Next Part
I finally got around to uploading this story to my A03 account.
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The hour of the bat had set itself upon the Red Keep. Rhaella had stumbled into her dragon-riding clothes, uncaring as she accidentally bumped a stack of books over. She sheaths the dagger from Daemon and fastens it around her waist.Â
Greens be damned, she was either leaving the capital tonight or she'd die trying. Her door creaks far too loudly as she enters the hall. Strangely, her door is unguarded. Perhaps they'd wandered off to gamble with the guards who watched Heleanaâs room.Â
Heâs still sleeping when she pushes the door open. Rain beats against the windows as she pads over to Maester Edricâs side.Â
âRhaella?â He senses her before she can even whisper his name, âWhat's wrong?âÂ
âLucerys is dead.â There's no reason to hold her tongue now, âAemond killed him. He let Vhagar eat him.âÂ
Maester Edric is oddly silent for once in Rhaellaâs whole life. Her fingers drum nervously on her dark riding clothes.Â
âYou are leaving then.â He whispersÂ
He always knew what she was planning, even before she said it.Â
âI have to.â She admits âI'll die here if I don't.âÂ
âWhere will you go?â Edric asksÂ
âI think you already know.âÂ
âWill Queen Rhaenrya will have you?â He questionsÂ
âI hope so. First I will have to get to Sona, I cannot leave her here.â She saysÂ
Maester Edric coughs twice and reaches for Rhaella, his warm hands grasp hers.Â
âI guess this is goodbye then.âÂ
âPerhaps we could get to the pit together. You've always wanted to fly on dragon back have you not?â Rhaella foolishly asks, âI promise Sona will not eat you.â
It's an impossible dream. Edric could no longer walk, just the strain of moving him down the hall would take strength Rhaella didn't possess.Â
âI'm not sure. Perhaps one day I might.â He smiles at her, âWhat I do know is that you must leave.âÂ
âI will find a way to get you out of this castle and when I do, we'll fly back to Runestone and never leave again. You can bore me to death by teaching me every noble house sigil from here to the Wall.â Rhaella says, sniffling as her eyes well up with tearsÂ
âMy sweet girlâŚâ Edricâs voice drips with emotion as he squeezes Rhaella's hands as tight as he can, âBe careful. Be smart.âÂ
Rhaella leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek, his weathered skin is coarse under her lips, âI will, I promise.âÂ
It is only when she slips back out into the hall and the door shuts behind her that she allows her tears to flow freely.Â
She is soaked to the bone by the time she reaches the pit. She hands the reins of the horse off to the dragon keepers. They'll tell Alicent and the Hand you're here, perhaps they'd already sent a man running towards the castle. It'd be too late by then.Â
Sona is kept towards the back of the pit, the larger cages were there. Rhaella's heart pounds so loud she swears it sounds like a drum as she runs to her dragon.Â
Sona gurgles as Rhaella draws close to her.Â
âI know, you were asleep. But we have to go. I am glad you're still saddled from our last flight.â You hum, ready to drag yourself up to her back. If the God's were looking down on you, you hoped Sona would get over her attitude about not flying in the rain.Â
âWhere are you going?âÂ
Aemondâs tone is sharp. It cuts through the air like a knife as Rhaella turns to face her childhood friend.Â
âDragonstone. I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.â Rhaella snapsÂ
âYou'd leave that frail Maester of yours behind for that whore of a queen? Aegon will-âÂ
âFuck Aegon. Fuck your grandfather for putting the Conquers crown on his head.â Rhaella lets go of Sona to cross the pen where Aemond stands at the entrance âThe succession was set by Viserys. The Hightowers do not have the right to change it.âÂ
Aemond's eye scans her face, perhaps he is looking for her to regret saying all that. She doesn't.Â
âStay. Please.â Aemond says, his gaze softens as he closes the distance, his chest brushes Rhaella's as she stares up at him.Â
âGet away from me.â Rhaella says, disgusted he'd even try to come near her after what he'd done to Luke
Aemond's strong hands grab her by the arms, âDo not leave me, please Rhaella.âÂ
âYou lost me the moment you told me what you did to Lukeâ Rhaella strains against his bruising gripÂ
âIt was an accident. Vhagar sheâŚI lost control.â He admitsÂ
âYes, you did. And where did that get you? You're a kinslayer, Aemond.â Rhaella stares up at him, determined to see his reaction to her words, âI won't remain here to let you do the same to meâ
Aemond's grip loosens and Rhaella steps back, reaching for Sona, âThis is goodbye, Aemond. I thank you for being my friend and companion over the years.âÂ
She is halfway onto Sona when she hears it, the sound of steel being drawn. She turns around, face to face with Aemond, his sword glinting in the pale light of the torches that bounce off the walls.Â
âYou would kill me? Is that how much your King means to you?â Rhaella asks, she knows Aemond will not harm her.Â
âUnder the orders of King Aegon second of his name, you are to return to the Red Keep with me at once.â Aemond's deep voice wavers as he looks at herÂ
âYou are loyal to a usurper. A drunk who will plunge us into war for your mother and grandfather's ego.â Rhaella says strongly, âHe will send you to your death one day. You are a one eyed fool.â
Perhaps the eye comment was what set him off. Or maybe he was just not used to her blatantly resisting him. Either way, Rhaella is pulled from Sona and lands on her arse in the dirt. Her dragon growls, her sight set on Aemond who stands above Rhaella, sword gleaming.Â
âTell her to back down.â Aemond ordersÂ
âSona, LykirÄŤ.â Rhaella says she cannot escape if her dragon decides to cook her alive in the Pit of all places.Â
âRise. It is nearly morning. You will return with me and we will not speak of this to my mother or grandfather. We will forget it happened and go back to how things were.â Aemond commands, his sword slips back into its scabbard and Rhaella takes that as her sign to start moving.Â
Aemond was far superior to her in combat with a blade. He was bigger than her too, heavier, and definitely stronger. What he wasn't better at was keeping his guard up. Years of being around her meant he was relaxed when Rhaella was near. Rhaella was the same, or was, she had once been calmed by his presence.Â
Aemond falls to the ground with a grunt as Rhaella tackles him. Surely they were a blur of limbs and silver hair as she straddles him. Distantly she can hear the dragon keepers shouting in high valyrian to call for guards. Sona is growling and gurgling most likely unsure of how to find a way to protect her as she wrestles Aemond on the dusty ground. She reaches for Aemond's face, ripping at his eye patch and ignoring the way he yells in pain when her fingernails rake across the sensitive scar flesh around his missing eye.Â
âIf an opponent has a weakness, you should use it. It's their fault for not fighting at their best.âÂ
Daemon's words echo in your mind as Aemond groans and curses beneath her.
Her fingers scramble to your belt loops, pulling the dagger from Daemon free. The sapphires on the hilt glitter, matching Aemond's eye.Â
Rhaella's arms raise, the dagger spelling certain danger for Aemond.Â
âNo, wait!â He yells, a hand raises to protect his face.Â
She could do it, end the life of the rider of the biggest dragon in the world. He'd die here in the Dragon Pit, surrounded by the beasts heâd dreamed of as a boy. Aemond's death would level the playing field, giving Rhaenrya an edge against Aegon.Â
Aemond stares up at her, his chest heaving. Rhaella had him pinned, her weight on his stomach. Thin lines of blood trickle down his face. A cold sweat streams down Rhaella's face. How can he expect her to kill him when he's staring at her like that?
âDo it.â He dares her, âYou have won. Take your prize.âÂ
Her hands shake, as she hesitates. Why is she stopping? Why is it that she all of a sudden can only see the little boy who read in the library with her for years? The dragonless one who'd cry over jokes from his big brother and nephews. The one who taught her to swim and snuck her sweets after dinner was through.Â
âKill me.â Aemond challenges venom laced in his tone, âServe your Queen.âÂ
âBe careful. Be smart.â
âI am going to Dragonstone.â Rhaella declares, âYou will let me pass and you will not follow me on Vhagar.âÂ
Aemond looks up at Rhaella, sapphire eye glinting as he shifts, slowly sitting up so they're eye level.
âPromise me, Aemond.â Rhaella pleads, âOr I will give the word to Sona and let her burn us both.âÂ
Aemond's lips quirk, an unreadable look on his face as Rhaella lets the dagger drop to her side.Â
Rhaella nearly moves to stab him again when his lips slam into hers. Long silver hair, perhaps it was hers, maybe even his, block her vision. As he roughly kisses her. Her heart thuds against her chest and her hands twitch, unsure of what to do.Â
Then, quick as it happened, he's pulling away, pushing her off him and onto the floor. His voice is raw with emotion she can't identify.
âI promise.âÂ
He vanishes as fast as he'd appeared, scooping up his ruined eye patch from the floor. His silver hair is messy as he disappears around the corner, leaving Rhaella alone in the dirt.
Dragonstone was on high alert. Jace had spent the better part of the days pacing the halls. His mother wasn't doing well. Losing a babe and then Luke, sheâd disappeared early yesterday morning on Syrax. Daemon spent his days with her council, planning how to kill every Hightower he got his hands on. Baela and Rhaena stood with their grandmother, following her orders.Â
Jace tried to busy himself. He attempted to listen to Daemon's planning, he struck an aimless conversation with Baela about what might be done for Luke, he doubted his mother would find a body. He even spent time with Joffery and little Aegon and Viserys, trying to find the right words to explain why Luke would never come home.Â
âAemond will be on patrol surely.â Daemon says loudly âCaraxes and Meleys can kill him and Vhagar. I will storm the Red Keep myself with the gold cloaks loyal to me. Surely they are keeping Rhaella in her rooms, the Tyrells would be flaunting her about if they had a Targaryen in their family by now. âÂ
âNothing is to be done without the Queen's approval.â Jace finds himself saying.Â
They cannot fly to King's Landing without approval from his mother.Â
âI am winning her war for her, boy.â Daemon approaches Jace slowly âHope for peace died with your brother in Vhagarâs belly.âÂ
âMy King!â A guard bursts into the room, âA dragon is approaching from across the Blackwater!âÂ
Daemon drags Jace to where the dragons rest below Dragonstone, he watches as Caraxes approaches his rider.Â
âYou better hope Vhagar has not fallen upon us while you tried to talk me into peace.âÂ
Jace watches Daemon mount Caraxes before quickly disappearing back into the castle. Every inch of him wants to call for Vermax but in his heart he knows his small dragon will be nothing but in the way against Vhagar. Daemon and Rhaenys and their dragons were a far better match against Aemond.Â
Daemon squints into the early morning sun as he tries to get a glimpse of what flies towards him. He didn't know his nephew well but a suicide flight to Dragonstone seemed too brash. Rhaenys was beside him, staring at the figure that slowly flew across the water.Â
âThat's not Vhagar.â He hears her callÂ
Surely Rhaenrya has not returned already. A loud shout of his name has his eyes widening. A beautiful white beast flies towards him, wings flapping as the sun gleams off its snow colored scales.Â
âDaemon.â He hears his oldest greeting him, âWhere is the Queen?âÂ
Across the Blackwater, Queen Helaena followed her son into a bed chamber. The little boy was mischievous and enjoyed hiding from his mother and Septas when they asked him to sit down so that he might learn to read.
âJaehaerys. Come. We will play elsewhere. The man here must rest.âÂ
Helaena finds her boy peering over the bedside of an old man. His skin is pale and his chest is far too still.Â
âMummy.â Jaehaerys wanders over to her, clinging to her skirts.Â
Helaena hums, staring down at the dead man in the bed before her. She knows him, she'd never spoken to him much but he was kind and a smart Maester.Â
âCome, we will have to tell Lady Rhaella of her companionâs death.â Helaena says, pulling her boy along to the room next door.Â
She pushes it open after knocking twice, Rhaella was never one to sleep in. Instead, the new queen is met with an empty bed and empty room. Nothing but books and silence meet her.Â
Next Part-
First update since August of 2024. Knight of a Seven kingdoms has sparked my love once more. I love you Ser Duncan the Tall.
Comment below to join the taglist. (The taglist is not by chapter, once added, you will remain there unless you ask to be removed.)
Currently planning on finishing the Adrian Chase x reader thing I have going (aka pt3 of champagne problems) for some reason I've written myself into a corner there and can't figure out where to go next.
And to all my ASOIAF fans (if you're even still following me atp) I am *drum roll please* picking my Aemond Targaryen x oc fic back up. Currently have one new chapter written for Aemond and Rhaella. You can thank Dunk and Egg for getting me back into my GOT phase haha.
TLOU fans, I promise you time is coming and I haven't forgotten about you. I just haven't felt inspired to write for Joel recently (ik, how awful)
summary: All Joel Miller wanted was a cake from you, the town baker. Now he has a girlfriend young enough to make some townspeople wonder if heâs having a late midlife crisis, and others jealous of his luck.
âIâm eatinâ you out tonight,â he states. âFor as long as I want.â ââAre you?â ââYes. Then Iâm takinâ my time fuckinâ you âtil there ainât a chance in hell you forget a single inch of me.â ââPromise?â ââI promise.â ââGood. Now be a good boy and fuck me like you mean it.â âHis eyes narrow, his voice dropping dangerously low. âGood boy? Weâve talked about that smart mouth of yours.â There wasnât much talkingâhe fucked you within an inch of your life, though. âYou wanna try that again?â he asks. âUmmm, now be a good boy and fuck me like you mean it, please?â You blink up at him innocently.
pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader (baker, no physical descriptions aside from hair that's long enough to grab)
rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, porn with plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Kinda Dommy Joel Miller, big-juicy-legal age gap, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), oral sex (m receiving), face-fucking, deepthroating, orgasm denial, edging (until you cry), begging, breeding kink (finally), come eating, vaginal fingering, dirty talk (so much), praise (a ton), he talks you through it, (1) pussy slap, overstimulation, aftercare, (1) spank, Joelâs a lil mean sometimes, first date, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, banter, feelings, Good Parent Joel Miller, pregnancy mention, getting caught, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, therapy session with Gail, a panic attack, suicide mention (not reader or Joel), takes place a day before Ellieâs fifteenth birthday)
word count: 20.6k+ (6.7k+ smut)
a/n: Remember me? I really wanted to do another chapter with these two because I had so much fun with the first and thought, what about their first date and everything goes wrong. So, there will be some miscommunication and angst, but it ends on a happy note. I hope you enjoy it! Big thank you to @juletheghoul for giving it a read through.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. Iâd love to know what you thought!
First - Main Masterlist
The story of how you met Joel Miller is a wholesome oneâuntil it isnât. Heâd come to your apartment the previous day to see about having a birthday cake made for his kidâthatâs your side hustle, making cakes and other pastries people request in exchange for goods and favors. Joel was willing to get you anything you wanted for your services, and isnât that just the sweetest thing? A father going out of his way to ensure his new, adopted child gets to experience a real birthday with cake and presents for the first time in their life? See? Wholesome. Then came your price, which was practically a steal given the order and the timeframe he needed it by. He got lucky older, single dads are your kryptonite, and that heâs a sweetheart. All you asked in return were a few easy-to-find items and to have a drink with him. This is when things escalated from an innocent PG-rated flick to an X-rated amateur porno, and you discovered Joel Miller can fuck.
In the span of a few hours of knowing him, he made you come multiple times, rightfully ruined you for anyone else, broke your bed, and was so good you asked him to marry you and offered to have his babies.
Youâre his now. You belong to him, and the best part? Heâs yours.
Joel came to your apartment for a cake and left with a girlfriend young enough to make some townspeople wonder if heâs having a late midlife crisis, and others jealous of his luck.
Itâs just past five a.m. on a Wednesday, the sun still hours from rising. The chill outside has the tip of your nose numb, but youâre warm in Joelâs jacket that he wouldnât let you leave his house without wearing. You stayed at his place last night, secretly, without Ellie knowing, and were very surprised when he got up to walk you home. Why are you up so early? Youâre one of the townâs few resident bakers, and you need to get to the community kitchen to start baking the bread for the day. But before that, youâre making a quick pitstop at your apartment to change your clothes.
How was your secret, impromptu sleepover with Joel? Well, it didnât go the way you expectedâŚ
See, when men invited you to their homes in the past, it was usually for one reason. So, it didnât surprise you when Joel got you alone in his bedroom, locked the door, and stripped you both of your clothes. Seemed pretty par for the course, and to be honest, you were down to have another go with him between the sheets.
But something unexpected happened: absolutely nothing.
No groping, no grinding, no impatient, wandering hands beneath the covers. Instead, you were treated to a warm arm around your waist, holding you close, with his nose buried in the hair on the back of your head. He didnât have any intention to fuck you in his bed that night. He just wanted you there with him, like your presence was something comforting, that he needed, and that kind of tenderness had felt far more intimate than sex ever could.
Youâd never slept so soundly.
It scares you how much you liked it.
Here you are silently walking down the dark road with Joel, the stars above, and porch lights you pass offering some light to guide your way. You told him you were fine in just your long-sleeved shirt and leggings, but his protective nature wouldnât let you leave his house without putting his jacket on you first. Was Joel bundled up, too? No, you suspect his hotnessâhis literal hotnessâthe manâs body is like a furnace, makes him immune to the cold, so heâs only wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.
He's beside you, walking a bit slower than his normal gait to match yours, and heâs so close that his hand keeps brushing yours. Youâre pretty sure he wants to hold it, and confused why he isnât, unless maybe heâs waiting for you to make the first move. Thatâd be silly, but you test the waters anyway, trying to hook your pinkie around hisâyou smile when he grabs it instead.
âYou can hold my hand.â You glance his way, inviting him.
He huffs, meeting your eyes and giving your digit a small squeeze. âWas tryinâ to be respectful and not assume.â He finally threads your fingers together, his hand so much bigger and warmer than yours.
His response makes you giggle.âTrying to be respectful? Babe, within a couple of hours of knowing each other, you had me face down, ass up, screaming your name. I think weâre past the point of handholding etiquette. But, itâs fucking adorable, thatâs where you didnât want to overstep.â
He lifts his eyebrow. âWhat? Because I fuck you silly, I canât be a gentleman, too? I respect you.â His lips curve into a smirk. âEven if it might not seem like it when Iâve got you pinned to the mattress, makinâ you beg.â
âYouâre a menace.â
He gently knocks his shoulder against yours, looking ahead. âYour menace.â He pauses, then adds, âIâm also rusty with all this datinâ stuff, and donât wanna press my luck.â
âYouâre doing great,â you reassure him, hugging his arm. âI love that youâre pro-PDA.â
Joel kisses your hair. âIâm pro-touchinâ you, and if anyone sees, then so be it.â
âEven Ellie?â
âPigs would be flyinâ if she were up at this hour. She sleeps in until at least seven-thirty. We donât have to worry about runninâ into her.â
âYou really enjoy playing with fire, donât you?â
With you staying over while Ellie was home, and now walking with him, it certainly seems that way.
âI wouldnât say Iâm playinâ with fire. I just know my kid.â
âWho, youâre very cute with, by the way.â
When he snuck you into his house, you overheard a sweet conversation between him and Ellie that gave you a glimpse into their relationship. The way he spoke and looked fondly at her made it clear how much he adores and loves her as his own.
âYou think so?â
âYep. Iâm not kidding when I say it turns me on that youâre a good dad.â
âAnd why's that?â You can hear the smile in his voice, and you see it when you turn your head toward him, finding heâs already looking at you.
âWhy does it turn me on that youâre a loving and caring father who puts in the effort to have a relationship with your kid and wants nothing more than for them to be happy? Hmmm, why would that turn me, a woman who wants to have her own children one day, on?â
âOne of lifeâs great mysteries.â His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.
You fail to keep yourself from smiling and playfully swat his arm. âShut up. You know exactly why Iâm into it.â
Joel chuckles, lifting your hand heâs holding to kiss the back of it. âMaybe. But I like hearinâ you say I turn you on. Makes me feel pretty fuckinâ great about myself.â
Your eyes roll. âGlad I could stroke your ego, babe.â You pat his chest.
âThank you, sweetheart.â He kisses your hand again, then lowers it. Thereâs a lull in the conversation, the two of you focusing forward, continuing to walk. A minute passes, and Joel breaks the silence. âIt really gets you all hot and bothered that I care about my kidâŚ?â
âOh, yeah. Itâs sexy.â
âHuh. Never thought of it as beinâ panty-droppinâ behavior.â
âIt definitely is for me.â You wonder something. âYou donât have to answer this question, but back in the time beforeââ The outbreak. ââwere you in a relationship?â
âNo. I raised Sarah alone and had a hard time datinâ.â
âItâs absolutely none of my business, and again, you donât have to answer. Why did you have a hard time dating?â
âWell, for one thing, I didnât really have the time. I was a single dad workinâ my ass off to make ends meet. Then there was Sarah beinâ my top priority, and womenâat least back thenâwerenât too keen to play second fiddle to her. So, I gave up tryinâ when she was about five.â
âIf you're going to date a single dad, you have to know his kid is the most important person to him. At least that's how it should be, and honestly, if Ellie weren't your top priority, I wouldn't have even considered a relationship with you.â
âGotta add that to your list.â
Your head turns his way to look at him, your eyebrows pulling together. âWhat list?â
âFor what youâre lookinâ for in a man.â
When you first met and told him you were romantically interested in him, he didnât understand why and even tried to convince you to find someone your own age. It took some explaining that you had a thing for older men, particularly in their fiftiesâyouâve found theyâre the best in bedâand that he checked all of your boxes for what you were looking for: caring, fun to talk to, handsome, strong, not creepy, and heâs fifty-six.
âOh, being a good dad has always been on the list.â
âI really do check all your boxes, then.â
âYeah, you do.â
He smiles. âThank Christ for that.â
The apartment complex where you live has six unitsâthree downstairs, three upstairs. Yours happens to be the first you reached when you led Joel up the stairs. At your front door, you let go of his hand to dig your house key out of his jacket pocket, unlocking the deadbolt.
You sense Joel behind you, finding his tall, broad presence comforting. You turn around to face him, hesitating as you try to figure out what to say. "SoâŚ" you start.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets. âSo.â
âDefinitely my favorite customer of all time.â
He chuckles. âAnd youâre definitely my favorite baker. Youâve got a customer for life.â
âBecause I fucked you?â
The look he gives you says you know thatâs not why. âNo.â He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. âBecause youâre a great baker. I wasnât tryinâ to butter you up when I said the apple pie you made was really fuckinâ good.â Yesterday, for dinner in the mess hall, you made apple pie for dessert. âDid you hear Ellie talkinâ about it last night?â You did overhear her saying how much she liked it.
You smile. âYes. My peach cobbler is her favorite.â
He mirrors your expression. âShouldâve known you made that, too. Ellie fuckinâ loves peaches, and I had to tell her to slow down eatinâ it so she didnât choke.â He huffs a small laugh, then heâs smirking, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It makes you wonder whatâs got him so tickled. âNow, keep your clothes on for this next part,â he says. âWeâre out in public.â
You squint in confusion. âWhatâŚ?â
âYouâll understand in a second. The peach cobbler?â
âYeah?â
âI gave Ellie my bowl. I always give her my share when weâre together, and thereâs somethinâ sweet.â
Your eyes widen. âYou always give her your dessert?â you whisper.
Dessert doesnât happen all the time. It depends on supplies and usually occurs when thereâs an excess of something that needs to be used before it spoils, such as fruit.
âYeah.â He shrugs. âMakes me happy to see her happy.â
Your breath catches a little.
Of course he does.
Of course, Joel Miller would hand over his portion of dessert just to see Ellie smile. And why is that so goddamn sexy? Itâs not just those broad shoulders or that voice that drives you wild; itâs the way he loves. Quietly. Steadily. Without expecting anything in return.
âGod, thatâs so hot,â you admit.
His expression is a mix of delight and amusement. âI knew itâd get you.â
âFirst of all, rude of you to exploit my weaknesses.â He laughs. âSecondly, yeah, it got me. I think you canât get any dreamier, and then you prove me wrong.â
âYeah?â
âYeah. Keep it up, and you wonât be able to get rid of me.â
âI better not stop, then, âcause I donât want you goinâ anywhere.â
His words hang there between you. I donât want you goinâ anywhere. And you know he means it from the sincerity in his eyes. This is new. Youâre used to men wanting your bodyâa night, maybe a fewâbut they never want you. Not all of you, at least. But Joel? He wants it all, the good, the bad, and everything in between. He wants you, and truth be told, it frightens you. Why? Because you know youâre going to fall in love with him, and that, being so completely at the mercy of a man, is fucking terrifying.
But the scariest part?
Youâre willing to risk it.
You know this thing between you and Joel isnât a fling or some temporary distraction; he was upfront that he didnât do casual. This is something serious thatâll eventually lead to marriage and children.
Itâs what drew you to him.
With Joel, you have a chance at stability, at having the comfort and security youâve missed after losing your family. Heâs your shot at finding that kind of love youâve longed for since your world got turned upside down. But even with all of that hope, you still have doubts. Youâve been burned in the past, let down, and abandoned, and those fears linger at the edges of your mind. Still, you trust him. You believe what he says, and when he tells you he doesnât want you going anywhere, it makes you go so soft you practically melt into goo.
Thereâs no thought, you act on impulse, gripping the open collar of his shirt, pulling him toward you to crush your smiling mouth against his. He grunts in surprise, but in an instant, he has his hands on your waist, stepping forward, his body crowding yours, backing you up until your spine hits the cool surface with a soft thud. This kiss isnât as frantic as the first from the previous day. Itâs soft, lingering, full of all the hope you have, and the things you canât find the words to say. He kisses you back with a kind of patience that feels like a promise, as if heâs got all the time in the world if it means heâs with you.
"I can't get enough of you," he whispers. Then he's kissing you like he means itâslowly, consuming you, his tongue slipping into your mouth, swallowing the moan you can't hold back.
Joel presses closer, his chest solid against your front, sliding his thigh between your legs. You're so worked up that your body moves without permission, rocking your hips, chasing the friction of the rough denim that ignites heat at the base of your spine.
He groans when you grind down, the sound vibrating into your mouth. Heâs got one hand firm on your hip, the other cupping your face, the kiss turning dizzying with how his tongue intertwines with yours. Feeling his heat, smelling his scent, tasting his lips, having him surrounding you makes it impossible to think of anything else except him, and you need more. At this point, your panties are soaked, and youâre worried thereâs going to be a wet spot on his jean-covered thigh.
When the kissing ends, youâre both panting. âCome inside,â you tell him.
His thumb strokes your cheek, and you can see it on his face that he wants to. âYou gotta get to work.â
âI willâafter my boyfriend fucks me.â
His brow lifts. âBoyfriend?â
âYeah. You got a problem with that, big guy?â
âIâm too damn old to be called that.â
âThen pick a title. Are you coming in or not?â You reach behind you to turn the doorknob and push the door open.
He doesnât give you a verbal response. Instead, his lips are suddenly on yours again, walking you backwards into your apartment, making you smile into the kiss. He kicks your front door closed, both of you ignoring that your key is still in the deadboltâJacksonâs a relatively safe place. His hands drag his jacket youâre wearing down your arms until it falls to the floor, followed closely by your long-sleeved shirt and sports bra, while you toe off your shoes.
The kiss turns messy, his mouth slanting over yours with a quiet hunger. He gets you to the couch, his lips leaving yours as he coaxes you to lie down, the soft, familiar cushions giving under you. Joelâs kneeling between your legs, and within seconds, he has your leggings and underwear discarded unceremoniously onto the ground.
âJust look at you.â His big hands push open your thighs before he rolls up his shirt sleeves. The only light comes from above the stove in the kitchen, but you can make out his pupils, blown pitch-black, staring at your glistening pussy, the front of his jeans bulging. He licks his lips like he wants to taste you, his free hand squeezing his hard cock. âFuckinâ beautiful.â
God, you want him inside you. Youâre a little sore from last night, but you donât care. You have no self-control when it comes to him, and youâll happily feel the ache all day, to keep him fresh on your mind.
He seems to understand that time is of the essence, and this needs to be quickâheâs unbuckling his belt and getting his pants undone. His gaze rises to yours with a frown, shoving down his boxer briefs to release his dickâheâs thick with a nice length, precum leaking from the flushed tip. âIâm eatinâ you out tonight,â he states. âFor as long as I want.â
His declaration sends a shock of excitement to your center. You smile. âAre you?â
He nods, giving his length a few strokes. âYes. Then Iâm takinâ my time fuckinâ you âtil there ainât a chance in hell you forget a single inch of me.â
âPromise?â
âI promise.â
âGood. Now be a good boy and fuck me like you mean it.â
His eyes narrow, his voice dropping dangerously low. âGood boy? Weâve talked about that smart mouth of yours.â There wasnât much talkingâhe fucked you within an inch of your life, though. âYou wanna try that again?â he asks.
Earlier, you questioned if he enjoys playing with fire, and youâre starting to think itâs you who does.
âUmmm, now be a good boy and fuck me like you mean it, please?â You blink up at him innocently.
His jaw ticks. âYouâre lucky you have work.â He shuffles back enough to bend forward, his palms on your open thighs.
âWhy?â
He spits, a hot, wet wad of saliva landing on your clit, and your brain short-circuits. Why is that so fucking hot? Is it that heâs marking you, claiming you as his? Saying, âThis is mine and only mine.â His head lifts, and you meet his dark gaze, feeling as he drags two fingers through the mess he made to spread it over your entrance. ââCause, I wouldâve edged you âtil you cried for that shit.â You donât have a chance to respondâhe pushes his thick digits into you, his other hand pressing down on your belly, right above your mound. The stretch burns for half a second before melting into pure pleasure when Joel curls his fingers just right, zeroing in on that one magical spot that makes your vision blur.
âJoel,â you gasp, your hips twitching, eyes closing, âoh, fuckââ
âYeah?â He has the audacity to sound smug. âI know how to touch you, donât I?â Each push and pull of his digits is rough and deliberate, hitting your g-spot so perfectly youâre unable to stop squirming. âAnswer me,â he orders.
âYes.â
Your thighs threaten to close around his hand as an orgasm forms in your core, the tension rising with each passing second.
Heâs using his fingers for good and evilâthe good, preparing you to take him. The evil, how heâs not going to let you come yet. Heâll draw it out, torturing you with every press of his digits, but youâre not finishing like this. No, youâre at his mercy; heâs entirely in control of how close youâll get and when youâll fall.
âWho owns this pussy?â
Your body is screaming for release, the coil twisting tighter. You both love and hate that he knows exactly how to work you up. Itâs hard to think, let alone answer. You donât want him to stop, so you force out, âYou.â
The obscene wet squelch of his fingers working in and out of you fills the room, your body wound tight, legs trembling. Maybe you were wrong, and he will let you comeâitâs highly unlikely, but a girl can dream. Youâre almost there, you just need a little bit more.
âYeah, I do, and donât fuckinâ forget it.â
Youâre right on the cusp of falling apart, and thatâs when he stops. You knew it was coming, yet when he removes his hands, your eyes fly open, groaning in frustration. âYouâre so mean.â
He rolls his eyes, wiping your juices onto his cock, then spitting in his hand to slick it up even more. âIâm not mean.â Joel inches forward, one palm on your thigh, holding you open as he drags the fat tip of himself through your wetness. âIâm teachinâ you manners.â He teases your opening. âNow, we donât have much time, so this is gonna be quick and dirty. Got it?â
âYes.â
He smiles. âThatâs my girl.â Without another word, heâs thrusting into you with one hard stroke, bottoming out with a rumbling groanâyou cry out, clawing at the couch cushions for something to hold onto, the sudden fullness knocking the air from your chest. Heâs so big it feels like youâre being split in two, savoring the burn.
For a moment, he stays buried deep, his hand spreading over where heâs inside you, low in your belly. âYou feel that?â he asks in a deep husk. âThatâs all me.â
When Joel said this was going to be quick and dirty, he didnât mince words. As soon as he starts moving, heâs fucking into you hard and fast, the brutal pace stuttering your breath.
âOh, god,â you moan. He has your tits jiggling, something you know heâs loving.
âHeâs got nothinâ to do with this,â Joel grits out. He licks the pad of his thumb, pressing it to your swollen clit, the added pressure making your back bow, gasping his name. âYeah, I know, baby. Thatâs it.â He doesnât let up, thrusting hard while he circles your bundle of nerves with practiced, filthy precision thatâs driving you crazy.
âJoel, oh fuck. Joelââ
âIâve got you.â His free hand palms your breast, brushing his calloused thumb over your stiff nipple, before pinching it. You mewl, writhing under him. âThis what you wanted? This how you wanted me to fuck you?â
â Yes, you think, but canât say out loud. The fast, punishing rhythm combined with the attention to your tits and clit has you dizzy with pleasure. Heâs hitting you everywhere, inside and out, and it borders on too much, your body trembling uncontrollably. Itâs a little embarrassing how quickly he builds you right back up to the edge.
âYou gonna come for me?â he asks. His hand comes off your breast to brace himself when he leans over you, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck. âAre you? You gonna give it to me?â
His thumb continues rubbing tight, fast circles in sync with the steady strokes of his cock.
âYes, donât stopâoh godâplease, donât stop.â Your arms go around his back, your nails digging into the flannel over his shoulders.
âWeâre not done âtil you soak me, baby. Come for me, let me have it.â He sucks hard on your pulse point.
It all boils overâthe rough pad of his thumb, the heat of his mouth on your neck, his dick railing into youâthe tension snaps, and youâre coming, crying out as pleasure wracks through you, your inner walls clenching around him like a vice.
âThere we go,â Joel groans, his pace faltering. âMy good girlâmy good fuckinâ girl.â He doesnât let you come down; his hips keep moving, drawing out every tremor, every helpless gasp until youâre boneless and shaking under him, completely wrung out.
âThatâs it, baby,â he rasps. âYou did so good for me.â
His praise is a balm and a brand, soothing and burning all at once.
He leaves you no chance to recover; heâs chasing his own high now. His arms are on either side of your head, his thrusts turning rough, almost frantic, the wet, slick sound of him working into you mixing with his harsh breathing. He wants it, and you can feel it in every hard, punishing stroke.
Something youâve learned about Joel is that he likes to kiss when he comesâhe likes to kiss in general, but especially when heâs coming. So, youâre expecting it when his mouth crashes onto yours, kissing you deep and messily. His hips snap faster, his breath turning hot and ragged against your lips.
âGonna come,â he mutters into your mouth. âGonna fuck you full of me, baby. Fill you up. You want that? You want my come?â
You moan âyesâ into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him as deep as heâll go, and thatâs it for him. Joel slams into you to the hilt and stays there, a raw, guttural moan tearing from his chest as his cock throbs hard inside you. You feel itâevery hot, thick pulse flooding you, spilling into your inner depths. He grinds, rolling his hips to fuck it deeper, kissing you like he's starving for you and can't get enough. Once he's milked himself of every last drop, he collapses, shoving his face into the crook of your neck with a happy sigh.
Another thing about Joel is that he gets very cuddly after sex and loves it if you play with his hair. Your fingers go into the sweat-damp waves on his head, lovingly scratching his scalp. He hums in the back of his throat, nuzzling your skin.
âThaâs nice,â he slurs.
You smile. âPlease donât pass out. I really do need to get to work.â
He sighs. âGimme a minute.â
âOkay.â Youâll give him five and work a little laterâyou live in the apocalypse, no one will care if youâre forty-five minutes late to your shift.
God, this is niceâitâd be better if he were naked, still, his flannel shirt isnât uncomfortable against your skin.
His weight on you is grounding, like nothing bad can reach you here. But thatâs how it always is with Joel. He makes you feel safe and wanted. Maybe a better word is cherishedâhe makes you feel safe and cherished. Your body is warm, your limbs heavy, and your mind swimming in a soft haze. Is it ridiculous to think that you could stay like this forever? Tangled up with him, breathing him in, your hearts beating in sync. Is that too much to wish for?
Probably.
Youâre not naive. You know heâs not as perfect as he seems. You just havenât known him long enough to figure out his flaws. Hell, odds are, all of this is too good to be true, and heâll have his fun with you before he decides to settle down with a woman of a more appropriate age. He wouldnât be the first man to do that to you. Even with that in the back of your mind, youâre falling harder for him than anyone else, and youâre hoping he doesnât break your heart. But if he does, and worst comes to worst, youâve got Gail, the townâs therapist, whoâll help you get over him. Wouldnât be the first time, and sheâd be pretty excited to start getting those shortbread cookies she loves again.
Joel shifts slightly on top of you, kissing the side of your neck. He drags his lips across your sweaty skin. âYou okay, sweetheart?â he murmurs, his voice rough.
âIâm wonderful.â You slide your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair.
âGood.â He kisses your collarbone, then the hollow of your throat. âWas it everythinâ you wanted?â
The question makes you snort. âAre you asking me to review your performance?â
His head pops up to give you a look. âAre you tellinâ me you didnât enjoy it?â
Your eyes roll. âIt was mindblowing. Itâs always mindblowing. Five out of five stars.â
He nods once. âThatâs what I thought.â
âWow, Iâm deducting half a point for your smugness. Four and a half stars now.â
He frowns, his expression turning grumpy. He mutters under his breath as he starts to move off of you, âFour and a half stars my ass⌠â Your giggle evolves into a whimper at the sudden emptiness of him pulling out. Of course, Joel notices, his lips lifting into a smirk. âMiss me already?â he asks.
âWhy do I like you?â
âI check all your boxes, and sweetheart, you donât just like me, you wanna marry me.â
The day before, after he rocked your world the first time, you proposed marriage when you discovered you both shared the same desires for the future, one of them being childrenâitâs rare for a man his age to actually want a baby, and with people moving fast these days due to the uncertainty, it wasnât too crazy a proposal. Itâs not uncommon to marry someone you barely know, but Joel is from a different time, and politely declined, simply because he wants to date you properly, which is very sweet. He also said that if youâre still together in six months, he will marry you, so youâve got something toâhopefullyâlook forward to.
You sit up on your elbows. âIâm second-guessing that right now.â
âNo, youâre not.â
âYou donât know that.â
âYes, I do.â
âWell, you agreed to marry me⌠in six months.â
âOr if I knock you up first.â He says it so nonchalantly that it leaves you speechless. His dark gaze is on yours as his hand goes between your thighs, two thick fingers catching his come as it drips out of you, and when he slowly pushes it back inside, you just about lose your fucking mind, unsure whether to shiver or melt. âSo, keep that in there for me. Every drop.â Why is that so hot? âCan you do that for me?â
âYes,â you breathe.
He smiles. âThatâs my girl. I also like knowinâ youâll have some of me with you today while weâre apart.â Why is that romantic? How can come be romantic? What is he doing to you? Joel removes his two soaked fingers from you, glistening with both of you, and holds them up to your mouth. âOpen.â That brings you back to yourself, things feeling normal again. You donât hesitate, parting your lips for him to push them in. You grab his wrist with one hand, holding it still, keeping eye contact as you swirl your tongue, sucking his digits clean.
âYou like how we taste?â he asks. You hum an affirmative.
This is where you show him that two can play this dirty little game.
You press forward, taking his fingers all the way to the back of your throat, your lips touching his knuckles, moaning for the hell of it. His eyes round, a sharp breath escaping him, which delights you.
"Jesus Christ," he whispers. "You keep showin' off like that, and you're not leavinâ."
You pull off of him. âDonât threaten me with a good time.â You grab a fistful of his shirt, tugging him down for a quick kiss, and push him back. âI need to take a quick shower, get dressed, and go to work.â You get off the couch and stand up. His come leaks down your inner thighâyeah, a shower is a must. âFeel free to hang or let yourself out,â you tell him. Turning around, you start heading to your bedroom at the end of the hall. âThanks for the quickie! Canât wait to see you tonight!â
Youâve barely made it three steps when out of nowhere, a big hand latches around your arm, stopping you. You yelp in surprise, spinning round to find Joel standing there, with flushed cheeks and his jeans hastily pulled up, looking like you just insulted him or something.
âWhatâs wrong?â you ask.
"That's not how you say goodbye to your boyfriend," he firmly answers.
You blink, caught off guard. âI thought you were too old to be my boyfriend?â
âI am, but thatâs beside the point.â
âIs it, though? âCause you seem pretty upset I didnât give you whatever the fuck a boyfriend goodbye is. The kiss wasnât enough?â
âThat wasnât a goodbye kiss. That was a fuckinâ drive-by. You donât give a man a quick peck and walk off like that.â
âOkay? Then explain to me what the proper way is to say goodbye to my title-pending not-boyfriend.â
âLike thisââ His hands frame your face, his rough palms warm against your cheeks, and then his mouth is on yours. Oh, this is one of those kisses. The kind that steals every coherent thought, that youâll replay in your head later while impatiently counting down until you can have another. The kind that makes your knees go weak and leaves you dazed, smiling like an idiot all dayâa solid five out of five stars, maybe the best youâve ever had.
When you finally break away, youâre breathless. âBetter?â you whisper.
His eyes are heavy-lidded, his gaze hungry. He, honest to god, pouts. âYeah, but now I donât wanna go. Iâm gonna miss you too much.â
His response makes you smile, and you throw your arms around his neck. âYouâre adorable. Youâll see me tonight. What time are you coming over?â
âI donât know. Depends on how long itâs gonna take me for Ellieâs present.â Heâs putting together a guitar for her birthday tomorrow. âThen, if she wants to have dinner with me or watch a movie, itâll be after all that. Iâm hopinâ seven or eight. Earlier, if I can make it happen.â
âGod, itâs such a turn-on when you talk about being a good dad.â
He chuckles and kisses you. âIs that okay?â he asks when he leans back.
âIs what okay?â
âThat I wonât be able to come over until later tonight?â
âOh, yeah. Ellie comes first. Always. I can make her cake this afternoon when I get off work.â
âThen itâs a date.â
âItâs a date.â
âNow, kiss me goodbye correctly.â
Work was uneventful, or so you thought. You were distracted, replaying the last twenty-four hours on repeat in your head like one of those old sports highlight reels your dad used to watch on cable (before the world ended and he, you know, died). It was hard not to think about Joel and all the things he did to you, especially with how you could still feel him, the soreness between your legs, and the come he left behind.
You finished in the community kitchen around one in the afternoon, picking up eggs and a glass bottle of fresh milk on your way home. Once you got back to your apartment, you tidied up, then got to work on Ellieâs birthday cake, which Joel requested to be chocolate. Where does a person get chocolate in a post-apocalyptic North America where cocoa beans donât grow? Traders. Itâs the same way you get coffee beans. Traders brave the wilds to bring the highly sought-after goods up from Central and South Americaâthereâs a reason theyâre so expensive.
There are a couple of traders who come through town every once in a while, youâve hooked up with. They were sweet and gave you discounts on your stash of cocoa powder and coffee beansânot that you slept with them for the deals. It was just an added perk youâd be stupid to turn down.
Now, itâs later in the evening, sometime after seven. Ellieâs cake was made hours ago, carefully frosted and covered, waiting in your fridge. Thatâs something youâve been doing, tooâwaiting. Waiting for Joel. Waiting for that knock on your door. Waiting for him.
An hour passes. The movie you put on has ended, and the credits are over. You stare at the black screen into the void for a moment, then sigh, getting up to start another, something to fill the silence. To keep yourself from looking at your front door every five minutes, you grab your pile of holey socks and start darning them.
9 p.m.
Youâve moved on from socks to patching up other clothes just to keep your hands busy. Your thoughts keep circling back to Joel, to Ellie, how he lights up when he talks about her. Thatâs a good thing, you remind yourself. You love that. You love that sheâs his world. She should be. But thereâs a thought thatâs crept into your brain that wonât go away: Is that why heâs with you? She has friends now and prefers to hang out with them rather than with Joel, and heâs lonely? Are you filling the space sheâs leaving behind? Thatâs fine if you are. You donât mind it. Hell, youâre lonely, too. You can be two lonely people finding happiness in each other. It makes you wonder, though, if he wouldâve even looked at you twice if he werenât lonely.
10 p.m.
Youâve run out of clothes to patch up and are now on your knees, scrubbing the hell out of the inside of your oven. Joel still hasnât shown up, and that is totally okay. Truly. The man is busy, and youâre well aware of how devoted he is to his kid, a quality you love so much. These are things you keep telling yourself, over and over again, needing to believe them. Youâve put on a record because you were driving yourself insane thinking every tiny noise you heard was him, because when it ended up not being him, it just made you feel a little bit sadder. A little bit more foolish.
11 p.m.
The doubt starts to sink its claws into you. So, what do you do? You reorganize your kitchen cabinets to try to drown it out. Does it work? No. The thoughts are louder than the clinking of dishes and Queenâs âBohemian Rhapsodyâ playing on your record player. What bothers you most is that if Joel wanted to be here, heâd be here, and if he couldnât make it, he wouldâve had the decency to stop by and let you knowâthere are no phones, and thatâs just what you do. Thatâs the kind of man he is⌠isnât he? Do you have it all wrong? There's a voice in the back of your head, feeding your doubt, reminding you that you hardly know Joel at all.
12 a.m.
Midnight comes. You donât know what else to do, so you put on another movie. It was a random VHS you plucked from the shelf, not bothering to look at the title. Even with your heater on, your apartment is cold. You wrap a blanket around your shoulders to try to stave off the chill, but it's useless. They say never to trust how you feel after 9 p.m., and yet here you are, feeling pathetic that you're still holding out hope he'll knock on your door. You keep glancing at it, trying to will him there. He wouldâve come by now for your date, or to tell you he needed to cancel, and even with knowing that, you still hope.
1 a.m.
He didnât come over.
With the way the world is, your first instinct is to think something happened to him. People donât show, and it sometimes means theyâre hurt, or worse, dead. But Joel? Heâs fine. You know where he was. He had the day off and was at home working on Ellieâs gift. Nothing happened to him, which leaves the only other reason for his absence:
He didnât want to be here.
Knowing that he didn't want to be hereâthat he didn't want youâis a knife to the heart.
Then you start spiraling, wondering if you misread things or if it all meant more to you than it did to him. Did all of the time you spent together, the promises, and hopes for the future mean nothing?
You donât know, but tonight shows you he never cared about you, because if he actually gave a damn, he wouldâve come. He wouldâve done something, anything, to ensure you knew he was okay and that he wasnât blowing you off.
And he didnât.
That silence? It tells you how he really feels.
It pisses you off that he led you on like that, then didnât have the decency to cancel or break up with you. Instead, he left you wondering where he was for hours, like a dog whose person isnât coming home.
"Fuck him," you say it out loud, like speaking it into existence will ease the tightness in your chest. It doesnât.
You had a feeling this was all too good to be true, and you shouldâve listened to your gut. You shouldnât have let yourself get so attached. It annoys you that youâre so upset. You hate that you want to cry. Your anger wonât let youâhe doesnât deserve your tears.
And to think you let him come inside you, risking pregnancy, something youâve done your best to avoid, all because you trusted him and thought you had a future with him. Why? Why did you trust him so easily? He was different, at least different from anyone else in your past. He made you think he wanted something real by being upfront about not having any interest in anything casual. You fell for the sincerity in his eyes. Was it all a game to him? What was the point of all of this?
What you know for sure is that you are never trusting a man again.
And your bed. Your broken bed that sits in your room, reminding you of your stupidity for thinking someone like Joel would want anything more from you than sex. Heâs like all the other men who donât see you as partner materialâyouâre just the good time they have before they settle down with someone different.
God, itâs embarrassing how late you stayed up hoping heâd show. Well, fuck him.
You donât have the energy to do anything about your bed, so you curl up on the couch under a blanket, and as you drift off to sleep, one question wonât leave your mind:
Why am I unlovable?
Itâs half past five the next morning. With how heated you feel, you barely register the cold, or maybe itâs the jeans and sweater youâre wearing doing their job to keep away the chill. Youâre almost to Joelâs house, carefully carrying Ellieâs small cake, protected in a plastic containerâyou never even considered not delivering it. The whole walk over here, youâve been thinking about what youâll say to him, each step amplifying the anger in your chest.
Youâre not sad, youâre mad. Youâre pissed off that you let your guard down and allowed a man into your heart, only for him to break it. You donât want to hear his excuses. You donât want to hear his apologies. You want this to be over and to never talk to him again.
Stepping up onto his porch, your heart pounds. You knock on the front door.
He mustâve already been downstairs; the door opens almost immediately, and there he is, Joel Miller. Heâs got dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleepâgood. When you stayed with him the other night, he told you he struggles with sleeping, and that having you in bed with him was the best rest heâd gotten in a long time. It cheers you up a little to see that he looks like shit.
When he sees you, his shoulders relax, a breath leaving him like heâs been holding it in all night.
âThank Christ youâre here.â He sounds relieved. You assume he was freaking out that you werenât going to bring over the cake.
âOf course, Iâm here. Iâm not going to ruin an innocent childâs birthday because their father is an asshole. Here.â You carefully shove the container into his chest. âI hope Ellie has a great birthday, and us?â You point between you. âWeâre done. Donât talk to me again. Donât come near my apartment. Donât even fucking look at me.â
His brow furrows. âNow, hold onââ
âNo,â you cut him off. âI donât want to hear it. Your silence last night said enough.â
âBabyââ
âIâm not your baby. Iâm nothing to you.â
His jaw clenches. âLet me talk,â he growls.
âNo!â you snap. âI donât wanna hear your bullshit excuses.â
His voice rises. âLet me fuckinâ explain!â
You donât flinch at his outburst. âNo!â you say just as loudly. âIâm done. Goodbye, Joel.â You turn around, your boots thudding as you walk down the porch step.
âYouâre makinâ a mistake!â
The door slams behind you. Or maybe it doesnât. Either way, you donât look back.
What do you do?
Thereâs no way in hell youâre going home to cry over a man who couldnât be bothered to show up. Youâre better than that. Stronger. Smarter. Done. It doesnât matter if he made you feel seen and cherished, or if you could imagine a future with him. Nope. No tears for that asshole.
So, you go to work.
You bake bread.
You bake too much bread.
More than is needed for the day, and probably tomorrow, too. Just means you donât have to be in as early in the morning. With everything that happened over the last couple of days, you can use the extra sleep.
While helping prep lunch, you overhear two workers whispering about the dishwashing kid from yesterday burning themselves badly on a pot of boiling water after you leftâskin sloughed off their arm. Had to be rushed to the clinic. You didnât catch their name or whether they were male or female. You try to remember who had dish duty, and you canât, because they rotate out the teens in town for the job daily, so itâs always a different kid each day.
After work, you go home for a little while. You donât sit still; instead, you keep yourself busy, then shower, changing into jeans and a t-shirt before leaving.
The house you go to, youâve been to more times than you can count. You knock on the front door. âOne second!â comes the familiar voice.
The door cracks open. Then it opens wider.
âWhat happened?â Gail asks in a knowing tone.
âYou got time?â
âYou got the stuff?â
You hold up the cookie tin. âTwo dozen âcause Iâm fucked up.â
She takes the container, opens it, and nods in approval. âA man?â She moves out of the way for you to come inside.
âIsnât it always?â You walk past her, knowing exactly where to go.
âSometimes we talk about your childhood. Whoâs the guy?â
In the living room, you flop back on Gailâs couch, shifting the pillows behind your head and being careful to keep your boots off the old upholstery.
âHave you met Joel Miller?â
âTommyâs brother?â
Gail takes a seat in her chair across from you, the cookies in her lap. She leans forward to grab her ancient kitchen timer on the coffee table between you, cranking it to your allotted sixty minutes, and sets it down again. Then she sits back, popping the tinâs lid to grab a shortbread cookie, and takes a bite, humming her enjoyment.
âYeah.â
She swallows. âBriefly. Weâve been introduced. Handsome. Definitely your type.â You hear her crunching.
âWe fucked.â
She finishes her cookie and closes the container, putting it on the end table beside her. âI figured. Cookies are amazing as always.â
âThanks. He wasnât like the others. Or at least I thought he wasnât. He talked about serious stuff like marriage and kids. It really felt like we could have a future together. Not only that, I felt so comfortable with him, I didnât tell him to pull out.â
Usually, with older men, you didnât have to because they were careful and didnât want children. With the younger men, you were the cautious one, telling them to pull out.
âThatâs interesting,â she muses. âYouâre usually careful, or as careful as you can be. Why him?â
âBecause heâs a dad. A really good dad. Heâs solid, attentive, hotâobviouslyâbut also sweet. Funny, when he wants to be, and the sex. My god, is it truly the best sex Iâve ever had.â
âAnd youâve had a lot of sex, so thatâs saying something.â Thereâs zero judgment in her tone.
âRight? I just thought he might beâitâs too fucking cheesy to say out loud.â
âThe one?â
âYeahâŚâ
âSorry, kiddo, but this circles back to your favorite subject.â
You groan. âUgh, not the childhood trauma. Why is it always the childhood trauma?â
âItâs a real bitch, isnât it? Crazy how a single, life-altering event during brain development haunts you into adulthood.â
âI hate it,â you mutter. âBut, whatever. Go on.â
âYou lost your family in the worst way. It was violent, sudden, and you had no chance to say goodbye. Then came Seth and Rita, who took you in, but we both know you never really felt like you belonged with them. Thatâs left you chasing that feeling of real, unconditional love, you just have shitty taste in men.â
âHey!â
âAm I wrong? You go after guys twice your age, who are emotionally constipated, and are only interested in fucking you, when you need someone you can build a life with. This is where Joel comes in. He looked good on paper. Older, handsome, has a kid, and knows how to use his words sometimes. With him, you saw your chance at finding that love you lost.â
âWell, Joel was a bust.â
âLetâs dig into that. What happened?â
Taking a deep breath, you tell her everything that happened over the last seventy-two hours. ââand I went to this house this morning to drop off the cake and refused to hear what he had to say.â
âIf you didnât let him speak, how do you know he stood you up?â
âBecause he didnât come over or stop by to tell me what was going on.â
âWhat if he wasnât able to contact you? Itâs not like communication is easy these days without phones. Maybe he couldnât go to your apartment.â
You frown. When you look at her, sheâs got her glasses on, busy scribbling something into her black notebook. âWhat do you mean?â you ask.
Her eyes meet yours. âYou got to find out early that people can just be gone with no warning. So, now your default is the worst-case scenario. But hereâs the thing: this time, you knew Joel was safe at home. He wasnât dead or dying in a ditch. What you did instead of worrying he got hurt, is you jumped straight to 'he doesn't care about me' and 'he was just using me.' I hate to break it to you, kid, but I don't think that's what happened here.
âThen why didnât he show up?â you quietly ask.
âHe has a daughter, right? What if something happened to her?â
You gasp, sitting up. âThe kid who got burned!â
Youâve never met Ellie, but you know what she looks like. Youâve seen her with Joel around town. Were you really so distracted that you didnât notice she was the dishwasher?
How did you miss that?
âIs that what happened to her? She was hopped up on some good shit when I saw Tommy walking her home from the clinic yesterday.â
âDammit, Gail! Why didnât you lead with that?â
âYou needed clarity.â She shrugs. âAnd to know your brain is an asshole.â
This is when it hits you like a truck: you've jumped to baseless conclusions and ruined the best thing to ever happen to you. You feel sick to your stomach as your heart rate doubles. You get up because you feel you need to leave, but you end up pacing instead.
âOh my god.â Your vision blurs from watery eyes. âI didnât let him speak. I told him not to talk to me. He tried to explain, and I shut him down.â Tears begin falling down your cheeks. âI thoughtâI really fucking thought he didnât care, and the poor man was probably just taking care of his kid.â You stop in your tracks, remembering how he told you Sarah died in his arms. He mustâve been beside himself with worry over Ellieâs injury. The relief on his face when he saw you at his door this morning wasnât because of the cake; it was because you were there. How could you be so cruel?
The weight of what you did is closing in, your breaths coming out quick and shallow. Sending you on the verge of hyperventilating, your vision tunneling, the edges going dark as the world caves in all around you.
Gail is suddenly up and in front of you, gripping your arms. "Hey, breathe. Look at me and breathe."
Your wide eyes go to hers, and you try, but your throat is too tight, the panic pressing in everywhere.
âCome on, kid, just breathe. You made a mistake. It happens. Nobodyâs perfect. What you did isnât unforgivable. Letâs focus on your breathingâyou got thisâin through your nose.â She does it with you. âThere you go. Now let it out.â You do. âAgain.â She coaches you to breathe, little by little, the heaviness in your chest easing, and your vision clearing, until youâve calmed down. âThere we go. You good?â she asks.
âYeah.â You nod. âWhat do I do?â You sound desperate, your bottom lip wobbling. âI donât want to lose him.â
âYou talk to him. You own up to your shit. Tell him you assumed the worst because your brainâs an asshole, and you were heartbroken. If heâs worth a damn, and I have high hopes he is, heâll forgive you.â
âAnd if he doesnât?â
âThen at least you tried and did all you could.â
What you feel like you need to do is head to Joelâs immediately to apologize and explain, but you canât. It's Ellie's birthday, and you do not want to intrude on her special day.
The air outside is warm, the sun shining with hardly any clouds in the sky. The weather doesnât reflect what youâre feeling inside, regret rolling through you like a thunderstorm, consuming you. Youâre walking home, thinking of what you could possibly say to fix what happened.
Hey, so I may have overreacted over a misunderstanding. I didnât know that your kid got hurt, and thatâs why you missed our date, which is totally my bad. Please forgive me.
Yeah, he definitely wonât accept that.
Every idea youâve had since leaving Gailâs has sounded pathetic. To be honest, you donât even know what would right your wrongs and earn Joelâs forgiveness. Youâre beyond angry at yourself for not giving him a chance to speak; not only that, but you also feel so fucking guilty. He looked like he hadnât slept when you saw him, and instead of checking how he was, you treated him like shit.
Whatâs worse is that you knew Joel wasnât playing games, and you treated him like he did anyway. But as Gail said, your past still haunts you, and it sabotaged your best chance at happiness.
Fuck.
What are you going to do?
What can you do?
Nothing until tomorrow.
You have the night to figure out a plan that will hopefully earn Joelâs forgiveness. Or maybe youâre being too optimistic, and nothing can be done to repair what you ruined.
Youâre starting to spiral again, when loud laughter stops you in your tracks. You look toward the noise, spotting three teenagers heading your way down the road. What has your stomach somersaulting is who's in the middle of the trioâit's Ellie, wearing a short-sleeved shirt that reveals her bandaged forearm. Youâre glad to see that her injury isnât keeping her from having fun.
Your thoughts start to race. If Ellie is hanging out with her friends, then that means Joel should be at home⌠alone.
Your heart is thudding a mile a minute.
You donât remember deciding to turn. Itâs your body that makes the call before your brain can talk you out of it.
Youâre going.
Do you know what youâll say? No. Do you know if heâll even listen? Also, no. But you have to try. You have to do something if thereâs any chance to make this right.
Youâre back on Joel Millerâs porch. Same day. Same door. But where this morning you were fire and fury, now youâre just⌠scared.
It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, then finally, you suck in a deep breath and knock, three raps against the door.
Now comes the worst part: the wait. The time when youâre stuck in a limbo of whether or not Joel is going to answer the door. Itâs nerve-wracking enough to make you a little queasy and your hands, as the seconds seem to stretch on for an eternity.
Enough seconds pass that make you wonder if heâs not home.
Or, the likelier reason he hasnât answered yet is that he saw you and doesnât want to talk to you. That thought is like a punch to the gut.
But then the deadbolt clicks.
The door opens, and thereâs Joel, the picture of a man whoâs just been awoken from a nap. His hair is messy, and heâs squinting a little at the bright sunlight, wearing a white t-shirt and comfy-looking gray sweatpants.
âCan I help you?â he asks.
âYou were right, I made a mistake.â
âNo shit. So what is this? You here to make yourself feel better?â
âIâm here to apologize and explain. I thought you stood me up.â
âYeah.â His toneâs sharp. âI got that part.â
âI was hurt. I lashed out when I shouldnât have. Iâm so fucking sorry, Joel.â
His eyebrows rise. âSorry, huh?â He scoffs. âWell, sorry donât cut it. Not with the way you treated me.â
He starts to close the door, but your hand hits it with a thud to stop it. âJoel, please.â
He doesnât budge. âDonât. Donât give me that shit, standing there and acting like you care now.â
âI do!â You say it too quickly, too loudly. âI do care. I was wrong, and I fucked up.â
âWell, I donât wanna hear your bullshit excuses,â he snaps.
Itâs a slap to the face hearing your own words thrown back at you.
The door starts to move again, and you panic.
âYou know how your world ended when Sarah died?â you blurt out.
He freezes, his expression darkening. âYou donât get to talk about her.â
"My world ended when I lost my family." You don't want his sympathy. You donât even want to talk about this, but telling him about your past will give him a better understanding of who you are. "I was twelve,â you continue. âIt was me, my parents, and my two little sisters traveling. We were trying to reach a safer QZ. The day before, we had a close call with some infected. My dad took care of them, so we thought we were fine, butâŚâ Your throat tightens. âI like to believe my mom didnât know sheâd been bitten.â
âAnyways, we stayed the night in an abandoned house. The next morning, I was doing a perimeter check with my dad when we heard screaming. We ran inââ You pause to swallow around the lump in your throat. âWe ran in,â you try again, âand there was blood on the floor. My sisters were already gone. They didnât stand a chance, and my mom⌠she wasnât my mom anymore. In that moment, my dad didnât just lose his wife; he lost his will to live. It didnât matter how much I needed him, there was no way heâd keep going without her, so I lost him, too. He made me leave before heâŚâ You donât want to say what he did to himself out loud. Itâs bad enough that you can remember the sound of the gunshot. With the back of your hand, you wipe away the tears in your eyes. âSo⌠YeahâŚâ
For half a second, his eyes flicker with somethingârecognition? Maybe pain? His gaze drops to the space between you, silence falling over you both. You hate the quiet. It's filled with too much unknownâwill he give you a chance to explain the reason you acted the way you did that morning? Is he going to shut the door in your face? Is he going to tell you off, then shut the door in your face? Joel isn't a man of many words, and even less so, someone who openly shows their emotions. It makes sense that he doesn't offer you his condolences or welcome you into his home. It is very Joel when he clears his throat and steps back for you to walk in, shutting and locking the door behind you.
âMy brain is an asshole,â you say, your eyes on the floor. âGail says itâs the childhood trauma. It makes me jump to the worst-case scenario.â
âGail the therapistâŚ?â
âYes.â You lift your head. âSheâs the one who told me Ellie got hurt. Is she okay?â
âSheâs fine.â
âThatâs good.â You nod. âShe looked happy with Dina and Jesse when I saw her after my session.â
He walks past you toward the kitchen and doesnât look back. âYou want a drink?â
âIf you donât mind.â
If heâs getting you a drink, then maybe you should go into the living room. You head that way, stopping beside the leather couch in the middle of the room.
When you stayed over the other night, the house was too dark for you to see much of anything. Now, the late afternoon sunlight leaks through the windowâs curtains to softly illuminate the area. You take in your surroundings, the blanket hastily thrown over the back of the sofa, the throw pillow near one of the armrests, indented with the shape of a headâheâd definitely been napping.
Youâre an intruder in his space with no idea what you should do, so you stand there awkwardly.
A few moments later, heâs returning, holding a small glass in each hand. He offers you one that you take, raising it to your lips immediately, but pausing when you get a whiff of the liquor. It isnât the harsh, homebrewed shit most people choke down these days. You take a sip. Yep, this is old-world whiskey. Smooth, warm, and extremely rare. Another perk of being a smuggler, you suppose.
He doesnât sit right away; he just gestures toward the couch with his chin. âSit down.â
Youâre not sure if heâs ordering you or just being gruffly polite. You sit down anyway.
Joel sinks into the old armchair in the corner. He sits there, silent, pensive, turning his cup slowly in his hand as if to buy time to figure out what to say. âSoâŚâ he starts. âWhat happened to you. Whatâs that got to do with this morninâ?â
A valid question. Personal tragedies are a dime a dozen these days. Everyone whoâs survived this long is bound to have losses. Look at Joel. Itâs just a part of life.
When he finally looks at you, the anger in his eyes is replaced with exhaustion.
ââCause for the life of me,â he says, âI havenât been able to make sense of where I went wrong for you to think so little of me.â
âThatâs the thing, you didnât do anything wrong. You were beyond perfect. A gentleman, a good guy, it was me and my fucked-up brain.â You sigh. âWith how I lost my family, I kinda just expect everyone to leave, one way or another. So, when you didnât come over, my first thought wasnât a sane, âmaybe something happened.â It was a dramatic, âheâs gone like the rest of them.â And that fucking destroyed me. It was worse than anything Iâve ever felt.â
He doesnât say anything; he only hums his acknowledgment as he takes a slow drink of his whiskey.
You press on. âI coped by lashing out. I ended it before you could, thinking itâd hurt less, but it didnât. It was worse. Nothing can excuse how I treated you, Joel. I fucked up. I majorly fucked up and hate myself for it. If there were any way for me to take it back, I would. All I can do now is beg for another chance. Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that I wonât run again.â
It's hard to tell from his demeanor what heâs thinking.
He rubs a palm over his jaw, the scrape of his stubble loud in the quiet. âLet me get this straight,â he starts. âYou thought I was fuckinâ perfect and you still had the gall to treat me like that?â He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. âJesus Christ,â he breathes, taking another sip of his drink.
Thatâs not a good startâyou shoot back the two fingers of liquor in your cup, appreciating the burn as it slides down your throat and warms your belly.
His glass rests on his thigh. He gazes into the amber liquid before his eyes meet yours again. âI get it,â he says, âthe world is fuckinâ cruel. People leave, they die, they disappear, but arenât you sick of that shit? Donât you want to be happy? I was offerinâ to stay, to marry you, to have children with you, and you just threw me away like I was nothinâ.â
âJoelââ
âNo,â he cuts you off, making you flinch. âItâs my turn to talk, and youâre gonna fuckinâ listen to what I have to say.â Your gaze drops to the empty cup in your lap, unable to meet his eyes. âItâs clear as day that youâve never been in a real relationship. Youâve had flings and men who strung you along, the bastards. Never anythinâ that lasted, and because of your inexperience, I will give you some grace.â Your eyes return to his, feeling the tiniest inkling of hope. âBut even with that, Iâm too fuckinâ old to be chasinâ a girl as young as you, who runs so easy. The smart thing for me to do is nip this in the bud and end it now.â
The admission makes your heart sink. He averts his eyes, rubbing at his chin again, thinking.
Dread has you feeling sick as you wait for him to kick you out.
His hair is already messy, but still, he runs his fingers through it and takes a deep breath. His gaze lifts to yours. âHowever,â he starts, âagainst my better judgement, I wanna give you another chance.â The hope is back, you perk up in your seat. âI donât need you to be perfect. What I need is for you to meet me halfwayâthatâs itâyouâll get everythinâ Iâve got, but you canât be boltinâ or shuttinâ me out when things get tough. I need to know that if I let you into my lifeâinto Ellieâs life, that you plan to stick around. So, how do I know I can trust you?â
A great question that you donât have the answer to.
What could you say or do to regain his trust?
âYou can speak now,â he says softly, gently nudging you.
âYou wonât know until I prove it to you, and Iâm asking that you please give me a chance to show you. You were right that Iâve never been in a relationship. I donât know what the fuck Iâm doing, but Iâll figure it out, because I want you, Joel, and everything youâre offering. Losing this, losing you, is worse than anything imaginable, and I swear that even if things get tough, Iâm not going anywhere. I wonât run. I wonât shut you out. Iâll talk to you like I shouldâve done in the first place. Just please give me the chance to prove that Iâm worthy of your love.â
It's palpable how the tension between you loosens. He nods his head once, then lifts his drink to his lips, downing it all in one gulp, the empty glass getting set onto the table next to him. "You've always been worthy of love." He pushes himself up from the chair with a pained grunt.
Youâre not sure how to respond. He stands there, his eyes slightly squinting, studying you, searching your face for any signs of deception. You assume heâs found none when he steps your way, gently prying your cup from your hands, that he puts down onto the coffee table in front of the couch.
"Up." He reaches for your hands and helps you to your feet. As soon as you're standing, he pulls you into his arms in a full-body hug, practically wrapping himself around you like he never wants to let you go. You smile when he presses his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching your skin. He lets out a contented sigh, his body relaxing. âI missed you,â his voice is muffled. âDonât fuckinâ do that again.â
âI wonât.â The promise leaves your mouth before you even think.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. Heâs holding you, keeping you as close as possible, reminding yourselves of what this feels like. You press your face into his shoulder, getting a faint trace of his thyme soap, earthy with a hint of mint.
To think you almost walked away from thisâfrom himâfrom these arms that feel like home and a man willing to love you with no plans to leave. Insane.
His palm smooths up your spine to cradle the back of your head. âNeeded you last night,â he softly admits.
Your chest aches. From the look of him this morning and the nap you interrupted, he mustâve been up half the night. âIâm here now.â Your head turns, trailing your lips across his prickly jaw, as you whisper, âIâm not going anywhere.â
He leans back just enough to see your face, his big hand cupping your cheek. âPromise?â
âI promise.â
His thumb sweeps across your cheekbone, moving lower to trace the corner of your mouth. âGood,â he says, his gaze flicking to your lips. ââCause youâre mine.â Itâs not up for debate. Itâs stated as a fact, and all you can do is nod before the space between you disappears, and heâs kissing you.
At first, itâs slow, tentative; heâs reacquainting himself with the shape of your lips.
Itâs not enough.
The dam breaks, Joel deepening the kiss. His arm around your back, drawing you flush against him, moaning when he licks into your mouth. His tongue intertwines with yours, tasting the whiskeyâwarm, smoky with a slight bite, that melts into something sweeter. Your arms circle his neck, giving in to all of the feelings washing over youârelief, want, drowning out that fear of losing him.
He pulls away long enough to say with his lips brushing yours, âMissed this.â Then his mouth is on yours again, rougher now, hungrier, kissing you like heâs staking his claim.
When your lungs begin to ache, you finally come up for air, panting. Joel peppers kisses along the line of your jaw and lower down your neck, your eyes rolling back when he sucks over your pulse.
The words stumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. âCan I make it up to you?â
His head rises to meet your gaze. âWhatâd you have in mind?â
âLet me suck your dick.â
His face is unreadable, his pupils blowing wide. âOn your knees.â
The command has your breath hitching, your cunt clenching hard around nothing.
âHere?â you ask, surprised he doesnât want to go somewhere more private. âWhat if someone comes home?â
âSomeone is spendinâ the night at their friendâs. Knees,â he orders.
You obey, dropping without hesitation to kneel on the rug at his feet. He looms over you, tracking your every movement with a burning gaze as you look up at him. âGood girl,â he purrs, rubbing his thumb across your wet bottom lip. âGet me out.â
Hereâs the thing, you could do exactly as he saysâyou should do exactly as he says, but whereâs the fun in that?
Instead of your hands going to the waistband of his sweatpants, you plant them on his thighs, and lean in, pressing your cheek against where heâs beginning to bulge. Heat radiates through the cotton as you nuzzle your face over his half-hard cock.
âIs that what I told you to do?â he asks.
Locking your eyes onto his, you ensure he's watching as you finally reach to curl your fingers into the stretchy waistband, pulling his pants down agonizingly slow. You get them down his thighs until all that separates you from his straining length are his blue boxer briefs.
âThatâs it.â His voice deepens.
Keeping your gaze on his, youâre blatantly disobedient, slowly mouthing along his shaft through the material covering him, your lips mapping him, darkening the fabric with your saliva. Joelâs frown deepens, his jaw flexing. The warningâs clear on his face; his patience is wearing thin. Any second now, heâll take back control.
âThe longer you keep teasinâ me,â he says, âthe longer I keep you from cominâ.â
There it is. You expected him to stop you sooner.
You sit back on your heels and smile up at him. âI love when you threaten me.â
âWhat you love is pushinâ my buttons.â
âYouâre not wrong.â You hook your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down just far enough for his cock to spring freeâheâs thick, the tip reddened, and bobbing between his legs, making your mouth water at the pure perfection. You wrap your hand around the base, slowly pumping him, âBetter?â you ask with a smirk.
His throat works as he swallows, eyes growing darker. âAlmost. Tongue out.â
Arousal flares low in your belly. You let go of him and do as you're told, sticking it out, wide and waiting, resting your hands on his thighs again.
â âGood girl.â He guides his length forward, laying it heavy across your tongue for you to feel the full weight of him, reminding you of just how big he is. He teases you, tapping the tip of his dick against your tongue, once, twice, a low groan slipping from him when you moan.
You donât wait for his next commandâyou close your lips around the swollen head and suck, slow at first, letting him feel you working him into your mouth. Joelâs jaw goes tight, his hand finding the back of your head, threading his fingers into your hair.
âChrist,â he mutters. âThat mouth.â
You swirl your tongue, hollowing your cheeks, then come off him with a wet pop. You look up at him through your lashes. âI told you I wanted to make it up to you. So, use me. Fuck my mouth. I want it.â
For a beat, he just stares down at you, a flush rising up his neck. His hand in your hair tightens. âOpen wider.â
A thrill moves through you as you do as he commands, opening as wide as you can. Joel doesnât hesitate, pushing his hips forward, filling you even deeper. He slides hot and heavy along your tongue until heâs hitting the back of your throatâyou donât gag, you never do, and that makes him lose it a little bit, his pace quickening.
âFuck, you take me so well,â he groans, and the way he says it makes your pussy throb.
He pulls back only to thrust in again, finding a rhythm. Itâs rough, his grip firm in your hair, guiding your head, watching himself fuck his cock into your mouth. It turns you on, being on your knees for him, drool slipping down your chin, your eyes watering while he uses you how he wants.
âSo fuckinâ pretty.â His voice is ragged. Heâs got one hand in your hair, the other wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. âLook at this mess youâre makinâ for me. All mine.â
His hips snap harder, the back of your throat taking a pounding. You moan around him, making him groan even louder. His eyes are hooded, his cheeks rosy, and he looks wrecked. âMy perfect girl, beinâ so good to me.â
Your cunt feels achingly empty, wetness pooling between your thighs. Your panties had to be drenched.
Trailing your hand down, you go to slip your fingers beneath your pants to quell the need thatâs been building since the moment you kissed. Joel notices and comes to a halt. He growls down at you, âDonât. Hands stay where they are.â
Your eyes lift to his, big and pleading, but he just feeds himself further into your mouth. âYou donât get to come until I say you can,â he says.
The denial makes it hotter, your body trembling with want. You return your palm to his thigh.
With his hand on the back of your head, he urges you forward, sliding his dick deeper and deeper, until youâre having to swallow around him, taking him into the tight space of your throat.
âThatâs it, baby,â he sounds strained. âYouâre doinâ so good for me. Just like that.â
Your nose bumps the coarse hair at his base, smelling the soap he showered with and his natural musk. Your eyes water, but you donât gag around the stretch, you wonât, and the fact that you take him so easily drives him wild. âFuck,â he rasps, his hips jerking. He free-hand cradles your jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where drool spills over. âThatâs my girl, takinâ it all the way down.â
God, you shouldnât love this as much as you doâdrooling, crying, your throat stretched full, but you do.
Your nails dig into his thighs, the slick mess dripping from your lips, keeping him buried until your lungs scream for air. He lets you come off him, gasping in a big breath, a string of spit connecting you to his cock, before he shoves you down again, moaning when you swallow him whole.
His dark eyes are on your watery ones. âGood girl,â it comes out ragged, his lips parted. His hands cup your cheeks as he stares down at you with a surprisingly tender gaze. âYouâre so fuckinâ beautiful. You like beinâ ruined by me, donât you?â
You hum around him, âyes.â
âYeah, you do. You like beinâ mine.â He pulls out of your mouth, curling his fist around his hard cock. His other hand catches your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. âBut do you deserve to come?â Your eyes round, your chest heaving. âAfter the way you treated me?â
âJoel,â you whimperâitâs pathetic how desperate you sound, but you are desperate. Heâs got you wound up tight, your pussy aching, throbbing with need. Now terror rears its ugly head, splashing over you like ice-cold water because he has every right to deny you. He could leave you hanging, keep you here without ever allowing you to come, and youâre not sure youâd survive it. âJoel, please.â
âDonât ever doubt me again. You hear me?â
âYes.â
âGood.â He lets go of your face, grunting when he hauls you to stand. Heâs on you, ducking his head to spread open-mouthed kisses up your throat. âI hated beinâ mad at you,â he murmurs into your skin. Joel grabs your jaw, holding you still as he licks a slow stripe through the spit on your chin, then up the tear tracks on your cheek. A startled gasp leaves you. The filthiness of it makes you ache. Joel catches your noise and smirks. He ghosts his mouth over yours. âMess or not, youâre mine. All of it, mine,â he declares, sealing it with a kiss.
He claims your lips, hard and searing, stealing the breath from your lungs, before he breaks away. âTake off your clothes.â Youâre too slow for his liking; heâs already grabbing the hem of your shirt, stripping you with little patience. Your boots thud across the floorâsocks flying after, your jeans and panties roughly yanked down your legs. Your bare skin prickles in the cold air. You squeak in surprise when he spins you, forcing you to kneel on the worn leather sofa, bracing yourself against the back of it.
You feel him behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see heâs still dressed. âI donât wanna be the only one naked,â you tell him. âStrip.â
His gaze burns, his lips downturned. âYou really think youâre in a position to order me around?â
âWhat? Are you saying you prefer to be clothed? Donât tell me youâre a sex-with-socks-on guy.â
He actually looks offended. âWho the fuck only wears socks?â His shirtâs gone in one motion, pants and boxers shoved down.
âYouâd be surprised.â He does the awkward balancing act to remove each sock. âThey did not get a second date.â
âGotta add that to your list.â Of what you want in a man.
You smile, laughing breathlessly. âItâs already on the list, I just donât broadcast it to catch the guys that do.â
Joelâs on you in seconds, the front of his body pressed to the back of yours, his skin hot, his cock thick and heavy against your ass. He holds your hips, his lips brushing your ear. âBetter?â
You reach behind, pushing your fingers into his hair. âMhmm, much better.â
He kisses a spot below your ear, then again on your neck. âHereâs how this goes,â he rasps. âIâm gonna fuck you, but you donât come âtil I say you can. You do, and I pull out. I wonât touch you again the rest of the night. Am I clear?â
The warning has heat curling low in your core, your thighs squeezing tight together. âYes.â
His lips graze your shoulder. âGood girl.â
The praise has you biting your lip, rocking your hips back against the heft of him.
Joel chuckles low in his chest, âSo needy for me.â He surprises you, slipping his hand down to tease along your inner thigh. âYou want my fingers first? Or do you think you can take me?â
You shake your head. âNo. I can take it.â
A little pain didnât hurt anyone. Plus, you know heâll make it worth it.
âThatâs my girl.â He presses his palm between your shoulder blades, and thatâs all of the instruction you needâautomatically, youâre bending forward and arching your back to stick out your ass.
His length is still covered in your saliva, but Joel is extra cautious. He spits in his palm and works it over his dick, the obscenely slick sound it makes causing your insides to clench in need. He notches himself at your sopping entrance before he starts to nudge in, the thickness of his cock prying you open and stealing your breath.
âFuck,â you gasp.
He pushes in slowly, your body resisting, the stretch burning sharply enough to make your inner walls clamp helplessly around him.
âEasy,â Joel rasps, in a tone thatâs low and tender, like heâs breaking a wild horse. âI got you.â He inches in deeper, then retreats a little, before pressing in again, slowly working himself into you. âThatâs it.â Heâs cupping your hip, steadying you while sinking in further. âDoinâ so good for me.â You whimper, caught between the sting and the overwhelming relief of finally being filled. âJust a little more.â
He bottoms out, burying himself to the root. âChrist,â he murmurs, leaning forward to press his forehead to your shoulder. âNothinâ in the fuckinâ world like beinâ inside you.â
Youâre stretched to your limits and beyond full, every nerve in your body screaming. He doesnât move right away. He stays still, his mouth kissing anywhere he can reachâyour shoulder, the side of your neck, behind your ear. His lips are everywhere as you get used to the fullness. âMy good girl, takinâ all of me,â he says into your skin. âThis pussy is mine. Isnât that right?â
âYes,â you whisper.
âYouâre mine.â
âIâm yours.â
Youâre thankful heâs gracious enough to give you time to adjust to what feels like him splitting you open.
What you expect is for him to fuck you hard, to work out all the anger you caused him. What you get is slowâtorturously slow. His thrusts are shallow, grinding his pelvis into your ass, savoring you like heâs afraid to waste even a second of it. It makes you whine, your nails digging into the back of the couch, desperate for him to just take you the way you thought he would. It has you pushing back, trying to speed up his pace.
He doesnât like that.
A sharp smack lands on your ass before his hips slam forward, knocking the wind from your lungs. His other hand grips the back of your neck, forcing you to stay put. âQuit it,â he growls. His tone is rough, but his touch is gentle when he rubs a comforting palm along your side. âYouâll take what I give you, and youâll love every fuckinâ second. Understand?â
âYes.â Your voice trembles.
âGood girl.â
If you thought his leisurely pace was maddening, that was only the beginning.
Joel pulls you upright, your spine colliding with his solid front, his cock stretching you open as he cages you in. Heâs got one arm locked across your chest, squeezing your breast with his calloused hand, his free palm sliding down to the apex of your thighs. He rubs your clit in slow, merciless circles that sync with the lazy roll of his hips, your arousal dripping down his shaft to coat his balls.
His lips are at your ear. âYou were hopinâ Iâd fuck you, mean, werenât you? Wanted me to take out my frustration on your greedy little pussy.â
The heat in your core gets hotter with every drag of his cock and swirl of his fingers. You donât answer him quickly enoughâhe slaps your cunt, soothing the sting, by stroking his palm over it right after.
âIs that what you were hopinâ?â he asks again.
âYes,â you breathe.
He chuckles darkly. âToo bad. I want you to feel every inch of meâevery fuckinâ inch of what you almost threw away.â His teeth graze the shell of your ear. âAnd then I wanna hear the sweet sound of you begginâ me to come.â
No words leave your mouth; you just moan.
Joelâs hand moves down your swollen sex, spreading his fingers around where heâs sliding in and out of you. âFuck, baby,â he groans, âyouâre soakinâ me.â He smears the slick before gathering it onto his fingertips to circle your clitâyou jolt, his cock grinding in deeper. âI love how wet you get for meâhow your body knows who it belongs to.â
Youâre fluttering around him, clenching at what he says because heâs right, your body does belong to him, you belong to him. He has ownership over you and your pleasure, filling you so completely that there isnât any space inside you he hasnât claimed.
Heâs moving slowly, languidly as if he has all the time in the world, and itâs a special kind of hell. It doesnât matter that every swirl of his fingers and every shallow thrust winds you tighter; you want more. You want the hard, fast, feral, fucking you within an inch of your life pace he had the first time he put his cock in you. That didnât mean his slow, steady strokes were any less devastatingâhe has you at the cusp of combusting. Your thighs tremble, fighting with everything youâve got against the sharp heat swelling in your belly, because Joelâs threat of pulling out if you come before he gives you permission is at the forefront of your mind, but youâre close, youâre so close it hurts.
Tears form in the corners of your eyes, your body begging to let go. A broken sob tumbles from your mouth. Joelâs hand moves from your chest, gliding up your throat to grab your jaw, turning your head. He catches your earlobe between his teeth, tugging it just enough to make you gasp. âCan feel how close you are,â he growls in your ear. âCan feel you fightinâ it. My good girl knowinâ sheâs not gettinâ off easy.â He drives into you hard, burying himself balls deep inside you where he stays, unmoving, while his hand abandons your aching clit.
The sudden loss is a welcome respite. Still, all of your nerves are on fire, your body quivering at being so close to the edge, now with nowhere to go. Your eyes are closed, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, making you stick to him wherever you touch.
âJoel,â you whimper.
âI know, baby.â He kisses you at the awkward angle, your lips misaligned, with his wet fingers splayed on your stomach. âYou can take it.â He lets go of your jaw, bracing his arm across your chest again like he knows youâll need the extra support. âGotta ruin you before I let you come.â
Youâre already ruined, and somehow heâs going to ruin you even more? Jesus. What have you gotten yourself into? Youâre about to find out.
He starts moving again, his hips keeping to that same slow, savoring pace as before. Itâs juxtaposed by the perfect strokes of his fingers on your clit, circling the needy bundle of nerves until your body quakes and shakes for release, bringing you to the precipice before stopping once more.
âPlease, Joel,â you try, but you know he isnât going to give inâitâs too soon.
âNot yet,â he murmurs. âNot âtil I say.â
You gulp, your pussy squeezing him as electricity dances just below your skin.
He may not let you come, but he isnât cruel about it. Youâre still stuffed to the brim with his thick cock, his chest pressed against your back, his touches softer nowâhis thumb strokes little arcs over your hip bone, his lips mapping the slope of your shoulder, the curve of your neck, and the damp skin just below your ear, soothing you, grounding you.
Joel begins again, slowly thrusting while his fingers work you to the point of snapping, only to deny you of your orgasm again. He does that once, twice, three times, edging you until youâre a mewling, crying fucked out mess. Your nails claw at his forearm, locked over your chest, your cunt clenching down on him helplessly, every nerve in your body raw.
Tears spill freely down your cheeks. âPlease, Joel,â you beg. âI canâtâI canât. Please, I need it. I need to come. Please.â If you didnât, you were sure youâd die. Thatâd be a new one. Dying of sexual frustration. What a way to go out.
His movements have ceased again, staying buried to the hilt inside you. He groans in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. âThatâs it. My perfect girl, begginâ so prettily. Youâve earned it.â His fingers return to your clit, and finallyâfucking finallyâhis hips snap harder, faster, pummeling your pussy just the way you wanted. âCome for me, baby,â he says through gritted teeth, his other hand pinching your stiff nipple. âGive me whatâs mine.â
Thereâs no other way to describe it: the permission is like a match to gasoline, it has pleasure exploding out from your core so violently, you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, Joel fucking you through it with a drawn-out moan, your body convulsing around him.
âFuck, yes. Just like that,â his words come out strained, probably from how your cunt chokes his dick. âMy good girl, my good fuckinâ girl.â
And then things go fuzzy, your brain short-circuits. Do you lose consciousness? Maybe. All you know is one minute you are experiencing the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your entire life, and the next youâre coming to, sucking in a big gulp of air as if in those lost seconds you forgot to breathe.
His fingers on your clit are too much. It feels like heâs touching a live wire inside you, the overstimulation causing you to yank your hips back, his hand coming off in reflex. This is when you register that heâs still slowly rocking in and out of you, while your pussy continues spasming with aftershocks, drooling your arousal along his cock. His arm is locked firmly around your middle, keeping you up because your legs are too shaky to hold your weight.
âYou alright?â he asks, voice low. His mouth ghosts over the hollow of your shoulder, leaving soft kisses, as his palm slides down your side in comforting strokes.
Youâre still clutching his forearm thatâs across your front and let go, reaching your hand back to press your fingers into his sweaty hair, smiling dreamily. âYes,â you croak.
His head turns, kissing the inside of your wrist, and you canât help thinking about how much you love how affectionate he is. Itâs not something youâd expect from someone whoâs lived the life he has. Youâd think that after all these years, the softness inside him wouldâve hardened, and yet it hasnât. Or maybe it had at one point. He did tell you he was a shell of a man before Ellie, and maybe you have her to thank for softening him upâmaybe you have her to thank for the tenderness no one before him ever cared to show you.
His nose nuzzles the side of your neck, followed by the gentle press of his lips. âThink you can give me another?â he asks.
The fact that heâs giving you a choice warms your heart. Not that you dislike when heâs in charge and youâre at his mercy. Thatâs great, too. But his asking shows he has your comfort in mind and doesnât want to overstimulate you further.
âLater,â you answer, your nails lightly scratching his scalp. âWhen we christen your bed, and you eat me out to your heartâs content.â
A groan rumbles from his chest, his cock twitching inside you, making you smile. âGod, I fuckinâ missed you,â he tells you.
âI missed you, too.â
He slowly withdraws from you, and the sound you make is a half-sigh, half-whimper. It only takes a few seconds for him to move from behind you to sit down on the couch cushion, and tug you to straddle him, the leather creaking under your knees that bracket his hips.
For a moment, he just stares at you, his big hands coming up to caress your cheeks. Heâs got that expression on his face, the one where he looks upon you with a sort of awe, almost like he canât believe youâre real, and actually there. Then his eyes turn hungry as they take you in, roving over your face and body, before they flick up to meet yours. âHowâd I get so lucky?â he asks. Youâre the lucky one, but you donât get a chance to say it because as soon as the words leave his lips, heâs pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours.
This kiss is much more fervent than the last, feeling his need, his desperation, his relief. You take it upon yourself to lift your hips, lining his straining cock up with your entrance, then start to lower yourself, taking him inch by glorious inch until youâre flush against him. The two of you moan into the kiss. Even with how much heâs worked you open and your orgasm loosening your muscles, thereâs still a slight stretch that feels so fucking incredible, it has a shiver crawling up your spine.
You can feel him throbbing inside you as you stay still, reveling in how right it feels to have him buried in you again, filling you so perfectly. The kiss melts into something deeper, your tongues tangling, his hands roaming down your back, grabbing the globes of your ass. Now that youâre cognizant, having come down from your peak, Joel consumes your every thought; heâs taken over your senses, feeling him everywhere. Nothing exists outside this moment with him. Heâs everything. Heâs all that matters, and you want him to feel as good as he makes you feel.
Joel gets to a point where kissing while you sit on his dick isnât enoughâhis feet are planted on the floor, his back pressed into the cushion behind him, giving him the leverage he needs to start moving, slowly thrusting up into you. He keeps himself fully sheathed, his grip on your backside helping you grind down on him. Youâve got your arms around his neck, your fingers in his hair, rolling your hips in sync with his movements.
The kiss turns sloppy as the rhythm builds, feeling the tension coiling through his musclesâheâs close. His lips break away from yours, panting as his mouth trails down your throat, lavishing open-mouthed kisses lower over your collarbone. You bite your lip. âYou gonna come for me, baby?â you ask through heavy breaths.
He roughly groans into your skin, and you take that as a yes, smiling. His head dips, closing his lips around a pebbled nipple, circling his tongue. Between that and how his strokes have gotten faster, you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.
âYes,â you moan. âCome, I want it. Fill me up, make me yours.â
You thought you were spent after coming so hard, but the attention Joel is giving your tits and how amazing his cock feels inside you has pleasure blooming at the base of your spine. He switches from one breast to the other, sucking and teasing your nipples, his teeth grazing over the hard buds, then soothing them with his tongue.
Youâre a little surprised how quickly the heat is building in your gut. Now, youâre bouncing in his lap to keep up with his thrusts, each movement growing needier.
âCome inside me.â You sound breathless, a bead of sweat rolling down your forehead. Youâre getting lost in how good he makes you feel, and it loosens your lips, words spilling from your mouth. âGive it to me, Joel. Claim me, ruin me. I want it. I want your come, want you to fuck it deep and get meââ Your eyes fly open as you suck in a breath, completely caught off guard by what you were about to say.
Where did that even come from?
Wherever you had it buried in your subconscious, now itâs come to light, and for the first time in your entire life, the thought that someoneâJoelâcould get you pregnant has you coming undone. Your orgasm is sudden, all of your muscles pulling taut as sweet euphoria spreads through your body. Itâs softer this time, a ripple instead of a crashing wave, which youâre thankful for with how worn out you already feel.
When your cunt clamps down on him, Joel groans loudly. It has him finally looking up at you, and itâs clear on his face how fucking gone he isâhis eyes glazed over, his cheeks pink, and his jaw slack. Heâs so far gone, you donât think heâll last even a minute longer. He captures your lips, hungrily kissing you as the rhythm of his hips stutters, his fingers digging hard into your asscheeks.
âYou can have it,â he murmurs into your mouth. ââM gonna give it to you. Fuck my come deep. Give your greedy little pussy what it wants.â And thatâs it for himâhe didnât even make it thirty seconds before heâs coming. He pulls your ass down, burying himself all the way to the root as he follows you over the edge. The sound that tears from his throat comes from somewhere deep in his chest. Itâs rough and strangled. Itâs what losing control sounds like, and itâs so unbelievably hot that your pussy clenches, bearing down on him, keeping him in place. He thickens inside you, his dick jerking with each spurt of his come, feeling the warmth of him filling the deepest depths of you. When youâve wrung him of every last drop, his body goes lax, and his head falls, face planting between your breastsâit makes you smile, your nails lightly scratching at the nape of his neck, while you rest your cheek on his sweat-damp hair. You donât move as you both come down from your highs. Your breaths evening, your hearts slowing, closing your eyes as you bask in the afterglow.
Maybe itâs because you only slept a handful of hours the night before, or the emotionally charged day. It could also be the result of getting thoroughly fucked, but you find exhaustion has seeped into your bones, your eyelids feeling weighed down.
Youâre about to ask Joel if he wants to head up to his bedroom and take what you know would be an amazing nap, when youâre silenced by a loud snore against your chest. In any other circumstance, youâd giggle. Instead, it reminds you that heâs probably beyond tired from staying up, worrying all night about Ellie. Guilt and shame creep up the back of your throat at the memory of how you treated him that morning, and you hug his head closer, kissing his hair.
Seconds pass, maybe a minute ticks by, with Joel still asleep. You donât want to wake him, but you also like the idea of getting some shut eye yourself, so very carefully you push his upper body back against the cushion, pausing to see if he wakesâhe snores. You let out a relieved breath, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around you both as you lean into him, getting comfortable with your face tucked against his neck.
Now that youâre relaxed and cozy, you find yourself wondering why in the world it got you off thinking about getting knocked up, when you did everything you could to prevent it with past partners. Thatâs it, your partner. Joel isnât like the men before him. You know for a fact heâs dependable and a damn good father. You know that if you have his child and things donât work out between you, you wouldnât have to parent alone; heâd still be there. You trust Joel. Not only that, but he also checks all your boxes. Heâs everything you could dream of in a partner and father to your future children. You got off at the thought of getting pregnant, because for the first time, you had nothing to fearâit doesnât hurt that youâd love to have his kid, too.
And even feeling that trust and security, thereâs still a whisper of doubt in the back of your mind, that all of this is too good to be trueâyou squash it down as best you can, relishing in the comfort and safety of right now.
Between the warmth and the knowledge that you have nothing to worry about, you fall asleep in record time.
Time goes by, minutes, an hour, two, safe in your cocoon, the house quiet.
A side effect of surviving an apocalypse is a sensitivity to sound. At the faintest noise, you can go from sleeping deeply to fully alert in a second flat. The scrape of metal in the front doorâs deadbolt cuts through your dreamless sleep. Your eyes widen, sitting up immediately with your heart pounding in your chest.
Thereâs only one other person who lives here.
âJoel,â you harshly whisper, shaking his shoulder.
His eyes blink open, all bleary-eyed and confused, but when he registers itâs you, his lips quirk up in a lazy smile, his big hands sliding along your sides. âYeah?â he groggily asks.
âEllieâs here.â
That wakes him up, his expression turning panicked. âShit,â he whispers, looking side to side like heâs trying to figure out an escape plan. You donât think, you move because your first interaction with your boyfriendâs daughter is not going to be scarring the poor girl at finding you both naked. Thankfully, thereâs a wall separating the living room from the entryway that buys you some secondsâquickly you unwrap the blanket from around you, ungracefully dismounting Joel, and ignoring his come leaking down your leg, as you scoop up your clothes.
Well, fuck. Where can you hide?
Itâs your turn to look around to figure out your escape plan, spotting a closet door on the other side of the room that you quietly rush to, and manage to slip inside just as you hear from the foyer, âJoel?â You catch a glimpse of the man in question as you close the door, impressed that he was able to get his sweatpants on, before lying across the couch with the blanket covering himself from the neck down to make it look like heâd been napping. The closet door clicks shut, the small space going dark, save for the sliver of light coming through the crack near your feet.
Your ears perk at the young girlâs muffled words. âOh, shit,â she says. âI didnât mean to wake you up.â
âItâs okay,â Joel replies, through a yawn. You can hear him sit up, the sofaâs leather complaining under his movements. âWhat are you doinâ home?â he asks, his voice rough from sleep. âI thought you were stayinâ the night at Dinaâs.â
Carefully, so as not to make any noise, you set your clothes on the floor and start dressing as you listen, pulling on your panties first.
âIs that why youâre not wearing a shirt?â You want to laugh at how disgusted she sounds.
He sighs. âI got hot while sleepinâ, and there was no one here to complain.â He grunts, before asking a handful of seconds later, âBetter?â You think he grabbed his shirt off the floor and put it back on.
âMuch.â
âDid you forget somethinâ?â he asks.
âNoâI found out Jesse and Dina have never played Monopoly, and Iâm pretty sure I can kick their asses.â
âBy goinâ bankrupt twenty turns in âcause you buy every property you land on and put houses on the shittiest ones?â
âHey, if you had landed on one of those blue ones, I wouldâve owned your ass.â
âBut I didnât, and you wasted your money and the money I loaned you.â
âWhatever. It doesnât matter anyway because Iâve got a better strategy that will make me unbeatable,â she says, sounding very confident in herself.
âRight,â Joel replies flatly, clearly unconvinced. âAnd whatâs this unbeatable strategy?â
She scoffs. âLike Iâd tell you. Youâll find out next time we play.â
At this point, youâve gotten your jeans on and are now working on getting your sports bra over your head and down to cover your chest.
âIf you say so,â he says. âLet me grab you the game. Do you need anthinâ else from the closet?â He emphasizes the last word, your stomach droppingâthe board game is in here with you. Your heart is pounding in your ears as youâre frozen in your spot listening. Leather creaks loudlyâhe must be standing up.
âIâm fine, Joel,â Ellie insists. âI donât need your help. I can get it myself.â You can hear the light thump of her shoes on the hardwood floor getting closer. âI wanna see what else we have anywayâdefinitely gonna grab that Twister game you refuse to play.â
The doorknob jiggles and starts to open. âNO,â Joel says a little louder than necessary, his body thudding against the door, slamming it shut.
âWhat the fuck is going on?â Ellie asks, the words laced with annoyance. âWhy wonât you let me in the closet?â
Joel lets out a defeated sigh and mumbles something you canât make out.
âWhat?â Ellie replies. âWhat did you say?â
He says it softly, but you hear him this time. âThereâs someone in thereâŚâ
âWhat do you mean thereâs someone in there?â
âJesus Christ,â Joel mutters. âThis isnât how I wanted you to meet.â
âMeet, who? Who the fuckâs in the closet, Joel?â
This seems like a good time to finish dressing. You lean down to snag your shirt off the ground, but when you do, you find nothing there.
Whereâs your shirt?
Did you drop it when you rushed to the closet?
You crouch, feeling all around on the floor, touching shoes, a box, a metal baseball bat, but nothing that resembles your shirtâfuck.
âThe woman Iâm datinâ...â
Even though youâre now panicking at being shirtless, that admission makes you smile.
âThe woman youâre datingâŚ?â she asks, drawing the words out like she doesnât quite comprehend. âThereâs someone who likes you, like romanticallyâŚ? YouâŚ?â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âItâs just youâre an old, grumpy asshole and your face looks like that.â
âWhatâs wrong with my face?â
âI mean, have you looked in a mirror?â
This time when Joel sighs, it's that of a father at his witsâ end with his childâs bullshitâyou can admit theyâre adorable.
âYes, I have looked in a mirror, and yes, there is someone who likes me romantically. If you will be polite and stop embarrassinâ me, I will introduce you to her.â
âChill, Joel. Iâll be on my best behavior.â
He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like, âI doubt that.â The pressure of his body lifts from the door, and youâre next met with two soft knocks. âYou can come outâthat is, if youâre ready,â he quickly adds. âIf you need us to give you a minute, thatâs fine, too.â
Thereâs no point in dragging this out. Youâre going to have to bite the bullet. You stand back up. âUm, Joel?â
âYeah?â
âCould you, uh, please, grab me my shirt? Itâs somewhere out thereâŚâ
âOh. Yes. Gimme a second.â
He pads away.
âWait,â you hear Ellie say. âWhy isnât your girlfriend wearing a shirt?â
âShe got hot while sleepinâ.â He returns and softly knocks again. âIâve got it, sweetheart.â You crack the door open and close it after he hands you the t-shirt, which you immediately put on.
âSweetheart?â Ellie questions. âDid you just call her sweetheart?â
Joel sighs. âYes.â
âEw.â
Now that youâre dressed, you quickly comb your fingers through your hair to try and make yourself look a bit more presentableâthankfully, the tears and spit have dried on your face, so it isnât too obvious to Ellie that you fucked her dad earlier. At least, you hope it isnât.
Taking a deep breath, you open the door a little. Joelâs standing there, blocking your view of the rest of the room with an apologetic look on his face. You give him a reassuring smile and open the door wider. âItâs okay,â you whisper. âYou wouldâve introduced us eventually, and this is totally fine.â
âI appreciate you beinâ so understandinâ, but Iâm still sorry.â
âYou really donât need to be.â Pointing at your face, you mouth âDo I look okay?â
Joel smirksâhe fucking smirks. His hand comes up and ever so gently brushes some stray hairs off your cheek, tucking them behind your ear as he nods, saying for only you to hear, âYou look beautiful.â
Your mouth opens to respond when another voice chimes in, âHoly shit, sheâs prettyââ You see Ellie peeking around Joel with wide eyes. ââand young. Was not expecting someone that young.â
âUh, thank you?â you reply.
âEllie,â Joel warns, his attention going to her. His hand fell from your face.
She steps to the side of him, unaffected by his pointed stare. âWhat?â she asks, meeting his eyes. âI didnât say anything rude. They were compliments!â
âIâm not offended,â you add.
She smiles. âSee, I didnât offend her.â Joel takes a deep breath, and the young girl looks at you again. âI figured someone interested in this old fuckerââ She juts her thumb his way. ââwould be closer to his age, but you definitely are not. Are you sure you like this dude? You know, someone who looks like you can do a lot better than himâno offense, Joel.â She pats his arm.
He presses his fingers to his brow, grumbling, âYouâre not wrong.â
Ellie has no filter, and you find it delightful. Her father, on the other hand, looks as though he wishes the ground would swallow him wholeâpoor guy.
You smile and introduce yourself to Ellie. ââItâs nice to finally meet you, and yes, I am sure that I like him. It might not make much sense to you, but I like him quite a lot.â
âYeah, I donât get it, but whatever.â She shrugs. âIf Joelâs happy, Iâm happy.â
Joelâs eyes go to her again, but this time theyâve softened. His fond expression shows how much he loves her, even if sheâs a pain in his ass. And Ellie loves him, too. You can tell by how her ribbing is laced with affection and void of any malice. She just gets immense joy from eliciting a reaction from him.
âSo,â Ellie continues. âHow long has this been a thing?â She points back and forth between you and her dad.
Joel glances your way, and you give him a look that says, âYouâre taking this one.â
âUh, itâs pretty recent,â Joel replies, scratching the back of his neck.
âCool.â She focuses on him. âIs it serious?â
âYes.â
You love hearing that.
âIs she moving in?â
âNot right this second.â
âYouâd tell me if she was moving in, though, right?â
His eyebrows furrow. âWhat? Yes. Of course Iâd tell you. That isnât somethinâ thatâd happen without talkinâ to you first.â
âOkay.â She nods. She turns to you, pointing past your head. âCan I get in there to grab my games? I gotta get going. My friends are waiting for me.â
âOh! Right,â you reply, pushing the door fully open and moving out of her way to stand beside Joel. You watch as the girl rises on her tiptoes to go through the collection of game boxes on the upper shelfâthey have just about every board game you can think of. She tucks Monopoly, Twister, and The Game of Life under her arm, but ends up putting The Game of Life back, grabbing Hungry Hungry Hippos and Mouse Trap instead.
Youâre not entirely sure what to do. Should you go sit on the couch? Excuse yourself to take a much-needed trip to the bathroom? Head to the kitchen for a cup of water? You end up staying beside Joel, resting your head against his arm. You smile when his pinkie slides along the side of your hand to loop around your smaller oneâhe wants to hold your hand, but probably isnât sure if youâre okay with Ellie seeing. You give him what he wants, twining your fingers together.
âIâm impressed by how many games there are,â you whisper. âNone of them are missing pieces?â
âIf they were, I found replacementsâat least, the majority of them I did. Still havenât been able to find a fucking wishbone for Operation.â
You snort. âPeople probably wanted the good luck. Plus, the wishbone was always a bitch to remove anyway, so Iâm sure itâs not missed.â
âMaybe, but Iâd like the game to have all its parts.â
âThen I will keep my eye out for the ever-elusive wishbone.â
He huffs out an amused breath and kisses your hair. âThank you.â
Ellie takes a couple of minutes to make her final decision. Monopoly and Twister never leave her arm. She keeps Hungry Hungry Hippos, but switches out Mouse Trap for Clueâsolid choices. Once sheâs finished, she shuts the door, turning in place.
âWell, guys,â Ellie says, addressing you both. âThis has been funâweird, but fun. Iâm gonna head out.â She looks at Joel. âI promise I wonât be back home until tomorrow. Iâll meet you for breakfast. Will she be joining us?â She nods your way.
âNo,â you answer for him. âIâll be working. Iâll be helping make the breakfast.â
Her eyes meet yours. âA cook. Thatâs rad.â
You smile. âActually, a baker. I made your cake, which I hope you liked. Happy Birthday, by the way.â
That has her face lighting up. âNo shit, that was you?! That was the best fucking cake Iâve ever had.â
You giggle. âIâm glad you liked it.â
âShe also made the apple pie from the other night,â Joel adds. âAnd that peach cobbler you wouldnât shut up about.â
Her eyes widen. âNo fucking way, and youâre dating Joel? Does that mean youâll bake me stuff if I ask?â
âWithin reason. I promise if I can get my hands on some peaches, Iâll definitely make you a peach cobbler, though.â
âFuck yeah!â She turns her attention to Joel. âI have no fucking clue how you got her to date you, but good job. Iâm proud of you.â
âThank you, I guess,â he replies.
âOkay, I really have to leave. Bye!â She briskly walks past the two of you. âOh, and Joel?â You both turn around to see her standing at the doorway.
âYeah?â
âIâm cool with you having a girlfriend, but the shit that happens in your bedroom stays in your bedroom. I donât want to hear it, I definitely donât want to see it, I donât want to fucking think about it.â She shudders in disgust. âGod. Iâm never sitting on that couch again.â
âFuck,â Joel says under his breath. âIâm sorry, Ellie,â he tells her. âI wonât let it happen again.â
And with that, she left the room, and the house, the front door slamming shut behind her.
âTold you that you liked to play with fire,â you tease.
âShe probably knew somethinâ was up the moment she stepped foot in here.â
âProbably. I mean, your boxers are over there on the floor.â You gesture to where they are crumpled under the coffee table. âYou were shirtless, I was shirtless, and hiding in the closet, plus your lame ass excuse that we were undressed because weââ You do air quotes. âââgot too hot,â itâs very obvious what we were getting up to. But look on the bright side.â You turn your head to look at him, meeting his eyes. âAt least she didnât walk in when your dick was down my throat. I donât know about you, but I count that as a win.â
âYouâre right. It couldâve been worse.â
âMuch worse. Now, you wanna take a shower with me?â You really want to clean up the mess between your legs.
He smiles and pulls you into his arms. âYeah, I wanna shower with you,â he says, punctuating the sentence with a toe-curling kissâit ends, Joelâs lips brushing yours as he quietly asks, âWill you stay the night?â
âIâll stay as long as you want.â
He nudges the tip of your nose with his own. âBecause youâre mine?â
âBecause my bed is still broken and my back is killing me from sleeping on the couch last night.â He stills, and you can tell heâs frowning. âAnd yes,â you continue in exasperation, âbecause Iâm yours, you ridiculous man. Iâll always be yours.â
He pinches your hip, and you giggle. âSay it again.â
âIâm yours.â
âYes, you are, and you know what?â
âWhat?â
âIâm yours. I can promise you that, Iâll always be yours.â
âSay it again.â
Thank you for reading! If youâd like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!Â
I hate to be this obsessed but everyday, early in the morning, I open my tumblr and check if part 6 of Grafitti by @sumoattack-gooddog and part 3 of Landslide by @darknight3904 are out. And, sadly, they are not. It breaks my heart.
Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...
Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.
Word Count: 2.7k
Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter
Masterlist
The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.
"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.
"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"
Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.
You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.
"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"
You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?
Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.
For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.
Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.
"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."
You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.
Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!
You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent
Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.
Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-
"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"
Shit.
"Well yeah, but..."
"Then put it in the basket."
Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.
"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."
"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."
"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.
"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.
"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."
Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.
Three days later...
Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.
It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...
You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.
Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.
It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?
No, there definitely could be more...
December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's
The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.
You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.
"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.
"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears
You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.
"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."
You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.
After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.
"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.
"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.
"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out
"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs
Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.
"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.
You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."
Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.
"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles
"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."
"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.
"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."
"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you
"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."
"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.
"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.
Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"
"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap
"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek
"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out
Joel gives you a grin, busted.
"Nah, what makes you think that?"
Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.
"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back
"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."
Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.
Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.
"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss
"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit
"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks
"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease
Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."
"Sure you aren't."
You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.
You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.
"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases
"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."
"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"
You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.
"Please," You mumble
"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods
"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.
"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck
Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.
"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages
"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down
A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.
"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."
Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.
"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.
"Already am." You laugh breathlessly
Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.
Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.
"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."
Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.
"I-I'm gonna-"
"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands
As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.
"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.
"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.
Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.
"Where?" He asks
"I-Inside" You gasp
Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"
"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.
Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.
Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.
"Y'okay?"
"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face
"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks
You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"
"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says
"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff
"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles
You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.
"What if we did?" You ask
"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."
You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."
Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"
"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully
"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him
"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."
"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him
"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips
Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.
"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins
"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"
Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.
"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."
"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.
Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.
"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."
Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...
Is it too early to add Avatar 3 here? I already know I'm gonna love it â¨
Alright, not exactly what I thought they'd be:
Materialists (I thought it'd be more rom-com like)
Predator Badlands (not bad not show stopping either)
Bored out of my mind:
Electric State
Minecraft Movie (Jason momoa and Jack black are bfs in this tho which is fun)
Captain America Brave New World (I wanted to enjoy this but it felt like a knock off of the second cap movie. Shitty writing didn't help the plot at all)
Thanks for the tag @toxicanonymity !!
tagging: @freythecrazyfae @geekyginger - no pressure to respond, just for fun â¨
A/n: Its kinda short but I'll try to make the chapters a bit longer.
Sypnosis: After watching your brother, Rick Flag, die at the hands of the man you just started to trustâPeacemakerâyour world shatters, but later youâre offered a chance for revenge, you take it without hesitation. But then someone unexpected walks into your life and your vengeance started to blur into something dangerously close to feeling again.
Parings: Adrian chase x grumpy!reader
Tags: Slow burn, somewhat enemies to lovers, mutual pining,
warnings: none
Word count: 3,880
chapters: pt.i | pt.ii | pt.iii | pt.iv | pt.v | pt.vi | pt.vii | pt.viii |
(divider credits:@strangergraphics)
It felt strange being out in the open again. The air felt different â too fresh. The noise of the town felt almost hostile after the silence of your cell. Even though youâd only been locked up for a few months, it felt like forever.
Youâd expected to feel more calm but That unthinkable feeling of rage still surged through you. Hot, sharp, almost electrifying. It crawled beneath your skin, begging to be unleashed. But you couldnât afford that. Not here. Not now. You had to play it cool. You had to be calm, professional, the perfect poker face.
But eventually, you knew youâd do what you came out for. You knew that if you got caught, you wouldnât just go back to that cell for twenty-seven years. Youâd never get out again. And somehow, that didnât matter to you. The only thing that mattered was that Peacemaker paid for what he did.
Now, on your first day of freedom, Murn and the rest of the team were expecting you in an hour â a âlittle meeting,â theyâd called it. Youâd nodded, promised to show up, but your mind had already been somewhere else. You had one stop to make first. One thing that couldnât wait.
Rick.
The cemetery was quieter than you remembered. The Summer air wrapped around you, heavy and restless, carrying the faint hum of cicadas and the sweet rot of cut grass. You shoved your hands into your coat pockets, but the warmth didnât reach your fingers. They still felt cold, like the cell had left frost beneath your skin.
For a moment, you hated how peaceful it all looked. Which was weird when you were in a cemetery. which was supposed to feel heavy, suffocating, full of grief. Not⌠calm.
Rows of headstones stretched out in front of you. Names and dates blurred together as you walked, until you found the one you were looking for.
You stopped when you reached his grave.
RICHARD BILL FLAG JR.
Your throat tightened at the it. The name looked too small on the stone, or maybe your visions was just bad. So you crouched down, fingers bruhsing over the carved letters. The realization hit you all at once â Rick was really gone and he wasnât coming back.
No more daily calls about how pissed he was, or him asking for your help with problems with June, or how much he hated his lazy team. The silence of it all hurt more than youâd expected. You didnât even realize you were crying until a tear splashed onto the dirt.
So much for feeling calm.
Your eyes then shifted to the small flag and bundle of roses at the headstone. It was most likely left there by one of Waller's people. You stared at them, your jaw tightening. âYou don't even like roses,â you whispered.
You stayed there for a long time, long enough for the world to go quiet again. The rage that had been simmering inside you slowly faded. For a moment you felt....sorta at peace, now that you were able to visit him. But that didn't mean you'd stop what you were planning.
Finally, you stood, wiping your face, voice low but steady now.
âIâll make him pay for what he did to you, Rick. I swear it."
You could hear Rick in your head â the calm, tired voice that would tell you to let it go, but that was the difference between you: he could forgive, even if he never forgot. You were the opposite. You couldnât forgive. You couldnât forget. So you had to get peacemaker back.
That single hour flew by faster than you wanted, and now you were running late. Harcourt had texted you the name of the place â Fennel Field. What a weird name for a restaurant, but you sped there anyway, maybe ran a couple of red lights (allegedly), but the streets were empty, so who was really counting?
When you finally pulled up, you killed the engine and just sat there for a moment, heart still thudding from the drive. The parking lot was half-full, dim lights reflecting off car hoods slick with evening dew. You parked near the delivery entrance â less attention that way â and exhaled, long and shaky.
Your hands were still buzzing, the aftershock of too much adrenaline and too little sleep. You drummed your fingers against the steering wheel before glancing at yourself in the rearview mirror. Eyes still rimmed red from the cemetery. Hair doing its own thing. You looked⌠tired.
You let out a sigh as you braced yourself for the interaction ahead. You werenât exactly sure why it irritated you so much to deal with people you already knew â maybe you just wanted to go home, sleep, and have everything go back to normal.Â
With one last breath to steady the nerves clawing at your chest, you pushed the car door open and started walking toward the building.
Waiting Inside, the restaurant buzzed with clinking glasses and the soft hum of conversation. Warm amber light spilled over dark wood and copper fixtures, and the air carried the scent of garlic and wine â comforting in a way that would make your chest tighten.
You pushed through the glass door, and the noise swelled around you. A couple at the table looked up briefly â one smiled, polite and fleeting â before turning back to their food.
You scanned the room until your eyes found them â the team, tucked into a booth near the back. Harcourt was mid-rant, hands slicing through the air while Murn sat opposite her, listening with that unnervingly steady calm of his. The rest were eating, laughing quietly â all oblivious to you standing there.
âHey! Welcome in! Table for one?â The host chirped suddenly.
You turned your head, catching sight of her â bright smile, pen poised, the very picture of customer service optimism.
âNo.â
It came out sharper than you meant, clipped and cold. Her smile faltered like a candle in the wind.
You let out a small sigh through your nose, instantly regretting it but too drained to fix it. Without another word, you started toward the back of the restaurant.
You exhaled a slow sigh, forcing down the frustration that buzzed under your skin, and started toward the back. No apology, no explanation â just forward. The host watched you go, still clutching her little seating chart like it was a shield.
Her polite smile had curdled into something tight and judgmental, lips pursed, eyes rolling the second your back was turned. She muttered something under her breath â probably about attitude problems â before straightening her blouse and pretending to care about the next couple walking in.
You started toward the group â one step, then another â trying to ignore the tight knot in your chest. Then it happened.
A busboy came out of nowhere, moving too fast and looking the wrong way. The tray he carried tilted, gravity betrayed him, and crash â a storm of plates and glasses shattered across the floor.
Cold water splashed up your front, soaking through your shirt. The sound snapped through the restaurant like a gunshot; every head turned, including the teamâs. Perfect.
You froze, jaw tightening as you swallowed down the reflex to curse him out in front of half the town.
âOh my God! Iâm so sorry!â He stammered, eyes wide behind smudged glasses. âI didnât see you, I swear â oh my gosh, I got water on you!â He fumbled for the napkin tucked into his apron, panic written all over his face.
Before you could stop him, he started dabbing at your shirt, muttering apologies between every frantic motion.
You quickly snatched the napkin, not hard. âItâs fine,â you said, voice cool â maybe too cool. You forced a tight smile, the kind that could almost pass for polite.
âItâs just water.â
He blinked, clearly unsure if you were about to kill him or forgive him, then nodded and scurried off to pick up the dishes. You stood there, chest damp, dignity hanging by a thread â and across the room, you could already see economos biting back a smirk.
You glanced down at the busboy â poor guy looked like he wanted to evaporate into the floor. Normally, the decent thing to do wouldâve been to help him pick up the mess. But you just stepped aside, expression unreadable, and let him scramble to clean it up. That was his job, after all.
You kept walking, brushing off a few drops of water from your sleeve, and made your way toward the booth. The team looked up as you approached. You slid into the seat beside Harcourt, trying to ignore the way every pair of eyes followed you.
âWell,â Harcourt said, lifting her glass, âthat was intense.â
âYeah, it looked like you wanted to murder that poor guy,â Adebayo added, grinning over the rim of her drink.
You gave her a flat look before rolling your eyes. âYouâre late,â Murn cut in, shifting the focus with his usual blunt calm.
âAm I?â you asked, glancing at your watch â 7:40. Damn. You were âTraffic,â you lied smoothly, leaning back in your seat.
A collective hum passed around the table â the kind that said no one believes you. Their eyes flicked to your face, taking in the redness around your tired, puffy eyes and the faint smear of mascara in the corner. It was obvious youâd been crying, but no one dared to say anything.
âWeâre just waiting on Peacemaker now,â Adebayo said.
The name hit you like static â sharp, electric. You could almost taste the bitterness it dragged up. You werenât angry about working with him. No, angry wasnât the word. You were thrilled. Thrilled to see his smug, self-righteous face again.
âI hope you donât cause too many problems with him,â Murn said suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts â like heâd read your mind.
You turned your head slowly toward him, your gaze steady. âCanât promise anything, Murn.â
The air at the table tightened, heavy enough to choke on. Harcourt and the others exchanged uneasy glances while you and Murn locked eyes â neither of you blinking, neither of you backing down.
None of them blamed you for whatever feelings you had â not really. They all knew what Peacemaker had done. But knowing and understanding were two different things. What they expected from you wasnât sympathy. It was restraint. Professionalism. Maturity.
The silence stretched, taut and awkward, until Economos cleared his throat. âSo,â he said, voice just a little too bright, âhowâs it feel to be free?â
You looked at him, deadpan. âOh, just devastating,â you said, dripping with sarcasm. âI miss my cage. Canât wait to go back â the decor was to die for.â
Adebayo snorted mid-sip, nearly choking on her soda as she tried to stifle a laugh. Economos rolled his eyes but the corner of his mouth betrayed him â twitching upward before he caught himself.
Murn parted his lips to speak, but before a single word could leave his mouth, a familiar voice stumbled in from your right.
âHey! Uhâhi. Sorry, again, about earlier.â
You turned. It was the same busboy from before, now approaching your table with a plate in hand and the most nervous smile youâd seen all night. His nametag caught your eyeâ Adrian.
He set the plate down carefully, like one wrong move might send it flying again. âMy boss wanted me to bring this over. Kinda like, you know, an apology thing. Uh, free appetizer. Nothing crazy. I did try to get him to cover the whole meal for you guys, but he said thatâd be âfinancially irresponsibleâ or whatever.â He made air quotes and winced, as if realizing he probably shouldnât be mocking his boss in front of customers.
You just blinked at him.
Adrian, apparently undeterred, kept going. âAnyway, I justâyeah, I felt really bad about earlier. You handled it super well, by the way. Most people wouldâve yelled or, I dunno, tried to fight me.â
âThatâs not really my thing,â you said dryly.
âRight, right. Yeah. You seem more like the intimidating silence type.â
Your brow arched. âExcuse me?â
He froze, eyes going wide. âIn a cool way! Like⌠mysterious. Not, like, scary-murdery. Wellâ not that you couldnât be scary, I justâ uh, wow, okay, Iâm gonna stop talking now.â
The table had gone completely silent. You could feel Harcourtâs smirk without even looking.
âThanks⌠Adrian,â you said finally, your voice calm but edged.
âYeah! Of course! Anytime!â he said way too quickly, backing up a step and nearly bumping into another waiter. âUhâenjoy the appetizer! And⌠um, the freedom thing!â
You blinked. âThe what?â
âIâ I overheard that part! I wasnât listening! sorry!â he blurted before practically speed-walking back toward the kitchen.
For a beat, nobody spoke. Then Economos snorted into his drink. âThat was painful to watch.â
Adebayo leaned her chin on her hand, grinning. âNah, that was kinda cute. I think the busboyâs in love.â
You glared at her. " I doubt it. He was just... nervous." you said flatly.
"Hey, you've been in jail for like months. The poor guy looked like heâd melt if you smiled at him twice. I think you should grab his number-you know, see where it goes," she teased, wiggling her brows.
Harcourt hummed in agreement, clearly enjoying the show. "She's not wrong."
âEw,â Economos muttered, making a face like heâd just bitten into a lemon.
âWhat? Oh my godâdonât be gross.â You turned to Murn with exaggerated horror. âThis is the kind of team youâre running now?â
Murn just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. " Don't even talk to me. I'm to hungry for this."
-
Time slipped by as the conversation drifted from one random topic to another â mostly Adebayo and Economos bickering over the dumbest theories or whatever weird interests they shared. It was now dark out, a reminder of how late peacemaker was.
By now, everyone had already ordered their food. You hadnât. Just a glass of water sat in front of you â your appetite had vanished the second you remembered who you were about to see.
Your mind drifted, tuning out the chatter around you. You hovered somewhere between a flicker of excitement and a knot of nerves. You wondered if he knew. If Waller or Murn had warned him youâd be here. You hoped not. You wanted that moment â the shock, the flicker of guilt, maybe even fear â when he saw you sitting across the table.
Your thoughts spiraled, replaying imaginary scenarios like cruel little movies, until a flash of red, white, and blue dragged your focus back to reality.
You blinked. Then frowned. âThatâs the ugliest fucking car Iâve ever seen,â you muttered.
The table went quiet for a beat before everyone followed your line of sight.
Sure enough, rolling into the lot like a parade float from hell, was a 1976 Mercury Comet â decked out in an American flag paint job and blinding levels of ego.
âAre you kidding me?â Harcourt said, incredulous, as Peacemaker stepped out â helmet gleaming, chin held high, every inch the walking embodiment of secondhand embarrassment.
Economos barked a laugh. âOh my god. Did this dipshit really show up in full cosplay mode?â
âThis is the guy Wallerâs giving us?â Harcourt said, disbelief dripping from every word. You leaned back, arms crossed, unable to stop the bitter smirk tugging at your mouth. âYouâll never catch him not wearing that stupid outfit. Probably sleeps in it.â
Harcourt groaned, slightly waving her fork. âI told you, sheâs fucking with us.â Adebayo suddenly squinted. âWait⌠is that an eagle in his back seat?â
âYeah, sheâs definitely fucking with us.â Murn says as he catches a sight of the eagle. Economos let out a wheezing laugh, nearly choking on his drink.
The soft chime of the entrance bell cut through the restaurantâs hum, and every nerve in your body went still. Your eyes locked on him the moment he stepped inside. He hadnât noticed you yet â but he would.
You watched as the host greeted him with a practiced smile, handed him a menu. He grinned back, charming in that painfully try-hard way of his. Then his gaze wandered â and landed on you.
The smile died instantly.
For a second, he just froze, like his brain needed time to process that you were actually sitting there. His grip on the menu tightened, knuckles whitening. You could almost see his heart hammering in his chest.
He shifted awkwardly, pretending to scan the room, but his eyes kept darting back to you â drawn, guilty, cornered. Every step he took toward the booth felt heavier than the last.
You didnât move, didnât look away. Just watched him. When he finally reached the table, you offered a small, razor-edged smile â the kind that said Iâve been waiting for this.
He hesitated, then turned stiffly to Adebayo. âUh⌠scootch over,â he muttered, his voice cracking the tension but not breaking it.
âWhy are you in your costume?â Harcourtâs question cut through the silence like a knife. Heads turned toward Peacemaker, some with curiosity, others with barely concealed disbelief. He was the only one decked out in a ridiculous, shiny uniform while the rest of you were just⌠normal.
âCostume? This is a uniform,â he said defensively, straightening his posture. âAnd itâs brand new, so I gotta⌠stretch it out.â
You let out a dry, hollow laugh, sharp enough to draw every eye to you. He froze, swallowing hard as his gaze met yours. You didnât say a word, just stared at him with a calm, almost amused smile.
Everyone else exchanged awkward glances, unsure what to make of your reaction. You werenât saying anything, just laughing â and somehow, that was weird.
"Oh, uh.... Hey. I-i was told you'd be here" peacemaker stammers, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. You tilted your head slightly as he spoke, saying nothing, just watching him squirm.
The rest of the table sat in complete silence, eyes darting between the two of you like they were watching the worldâs most uncomfortable movie.
And just when Murn thought you were actually going to be professional about the whole thingâhe was proven wrong.
âDonât âheyâ me!â you snapped, your voice slicing through the room. âYou know what you did.â
Peacemaker flinched, just slightly. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. For once, his usual smug composure cracked under your stare.
âYouâre lucky weâre in public, you stupidââ
âOkay! Jesus! You said youâd be professional about this, Flag,â Murn barked sharply, his tone clipped and authoritative. His voice carried a little too far, earning a few curious glances from surrounding tables, but it didnât faze him. He leaned back slightly, signaling clearly that he wasnât here to mediate emotions â just to enforce boundaries.
You exhaled hard through your nose, shifting in your seat. When your eyes met his, Murn was already staring at you â steady, unreadable, like he was silently daring you to keep pushing it.
âI am! You never said anything about verbal abuse.â you shot back, voice low but edged with heat. âItâs not like I was fucking killing him or something. He can survive a few curse words.â
Across from you, Peacemaker shifted in his seat, pretending to study the menu like it could protect him.
âBarely,â Harcourt muttered into her drink.
You ignored her, eyes still locked on Murn. âNow, can we talk about why weâre actually here and not about his dumbass fashion choices?â
That earned a quiet snort from Economos, which he tried â and failed â to disguise as a cough.
âWhy is that busboy staring at you?â Harcourt asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. You blinked, dragged back into the moment as you realized everyoneâs attention wasnât on you â but past you. You followed their gaze and, sure enough, there he was again.
Adrian.
He was leaning casually against a nearby table, that same awkward smile plastered on his face. Only this time, his focus was on Peacemaker.
âI think thatâs my friend gut chaseâs younger brother.â Peacemaker spoke as he looked at the guy then back at the group. âHe has mental issues.â He whispers.
You arched a brow. âTakes one to know one.â
Peacemaker shot you a look but quickly turned back to Adrian, forcing a small, polite wave. Adrian lit up immediately, waving enthusiastically like they were old friends. It was painfully awkward â Peacemakerâs tight smile, Adrianâs unblinking enthusiasm â like watching two different realities try to handshake.
Then Adrianâs eyes shifted. They found you.
The smile on his face softened â less goofy now, almost shy. His gaze lingered, hopeful, waiting for something back.
You didnât give it.
Instead, you met his look with a cold, cutting glare â the kind that could stop a conversation mid-breath â before turning back to your drink as if heâd already ceased to exist.
âDamn,â Adebayo muttered.
âOkay, anyway,â Murn said flatly, clearly done with the circus this dinner had become. He reached into his jacket and pulled out two manila folders, setting them on the table with a dull thud. âYou two take these home. Look them over.â
He slid one toward you, the other toward Peacemaker.
You barely glanced at it before placing it aside, uninterested. Peacemaker, naturally, did the opposite â immediately cracking his open like a kid on Christmas morning.
âWhatâs this?â he asked, squinting at the first page.
âDonât fucking open it, dumbass,â you snapped before Murn could answer. Peacemaker froze, looking up at you like a scolded child, then awkwardly closed the folder again. âJesus, alright,â he muttered.
âItâs the dossier on your first target,â Murn said evenly, ignoring the exchange.
You sighed, sitting up straight. âYou couldâve just handed me this earlier, and I wouldâve been on my way.â
âYeah, maybe,â Murn replied, unbothered. âBut if youâre going to work with this team, I need you to actually interact with the team.â
âI already did,â you said, tone dry as desert sand. âWe talked. We bonded. Thatâs enough interaction for one night.â
Before anyone could respond, you grabbed your coat and the file, standing up from the booth. âIâll see you all tomorrow morning.â
Adebayo looked up at you. âYou sure you donât wanna stay? You didn't even order food."
You shrugged. âI lost my appetite around the time Captain Americaâs knockoff walked in.â Peacemaker scoffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, âYou wish.â
No one stopped you. They just watched as you walked out â the tension following you like a shadow, leaving behind a silence thick enough to chew on.
Peacemaker glanced at the door youâd just disappeared through. âSheâs⌠fun,â he muttered.
Harcourt shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass âYou killed her brother. She doesn't wanna be around you, you dick." Peacemaker blinked, guilt flashing behind his cocky mask for half a heartbeat before he tried to shrug it off.
