under-house-arrest

you’re tipsy and lonely, and sad, and the generous, beautiful stranger at a bar seems as good a pick as any for one night of fun. they pay for the room in a hotel next door, pulling you in closer by the back of your neck, looking into your eyes and telling you that you deserve to be worshipped and that that’s exactly what they want to do.

jealous one night stand bf who’s well aware you’re not only not single but are, in fact, married. they watch the simple, cheap wedding ring adorning your ring finger with disgust, imagining their own ring on your finger – something expensive and custom made. not whatever this knock-off is.

jealous one night stand bf who takes his chance and subtly takes the ring off your finger and throws it somewhere on the ground, while leaving the bar. little to no regard to how your partner might react.

even in your drunk mind, you know cheating is wrong. it’s wrong but you also justify it with how manipulative and abusive your spouse has been, justify it with your own happiness, justify it with how you’re going to ask for a divorce anyway so does this really matter?

jealous one night stand bf who spends the rest of the night, eating your out until you’re an incoherent mess, trying to lock your legs together and move away from his eager mouth. at first, having your fingers tangled in his hair but later on using them to try to pull his head away from the heaven between your thighs. when that gets too annoying for him, you end up with your hands locked in handcuffs and secured to the bedframe.

jealous one night stand bf who is deaf to your pleas and cries, as you cum for what seems like the tenth time in the span of an hour. he’s waited too long for this moment and, believe it or not, this is actually much more for him than it is for you. in your drunken stupor you regret not picking a safe word which you would’ve used five orgasms ago.

jealous one night stand bf who only stops when sudden quiet falls on his ears and he finds you passed out cold. he looks at his palms still wrapped around your thighs and contemplates going back to his favorite passtime, licking his lips and tasting your arousal on his tongue.

jealous one night stand bf who decides against it, uncuffs your hands and tucks you into bed. he kneels next to your sleeping form and kisses your temple, a plan already forming in his mind.

jealous one night stand bf who decides to indulge himself and ends up cuddling you for the most of the night, his nose pressed against your hair, a leg thrown over yours and his arms strongly locked around your sleeping form.

you wake up before him and “sneak out”, not knowing he’s well aware and awake, begrudingly letting you slip from his arms. he knows you’re not ready yet and need time.

not too much time, though.

jealous one night stand bf who introduces himself to your partner in a formal event, talks them up and smiles innocently at your shocked expression when your partner (he grounds his teeth when your soon-to-be ex says it) introduces the two of you as if you’ve never met.

jealous one night stand bf whose watchful eyes don’t miss your ring finger that is still empty, no doubt because your spouse can’t afford a new ring. he chuckles to himself as he thinks back of the ring that sits in his home safe and has been custom made for you, waiting for its rightful owner to lay their claim.

- what do you want? – your angry, frustrated question makes him all the more excited for his terms of your surrender.

jealous one night stand bf who explains that his only condition for not telling your partner anything about that one night is a repeat of your one night stand.

jealous one night stand bf who gives you until midnight to decide if you’re willing for the truth to come out.

your defeated and teary eyes find his triumphant ones, as he finds you in his study, willing to succumb to whatever his plans are.

jealous one night stand bf who only asks for a makeout session with you on his lap, while he sits at his desk as a king with his spoils of war. he leaves hickeys everywhere and smudges your lipstick and messes up your hair and leaves bite marks all over your tits but at the end you’re so horny that you’re almost ready to get on your knees and beg for something more.

jealous one night stand bf who pops up at your workplace/ school and demands that unless you wish for the truth to come out, you need to attend a gala with him, leaving you frustrated and with a realization that that is exactly what he’s intended to do – blackmail you into doing his bidding.

jealous one night stand bf who presents you as his wife, not a plus one. every person he meets and knows, now know you as his wife, confirmed by the massive wedding ring he forced on your finger. he’s doing it on purpose and with enjoyment, pet names honey, baby and sweetheart always on his tongue. my wife this and my wife that. which is something you almost (almost) enjoy, given that your current partner seems to be almost ashamed to consider you their wife.

jealous one night stand bf who warns you that he’s giving you the freedom to tell your partner yourself, before he does it for you. you tear up and beg in your sweet, pleasant voice to give you more time and he reluctantly nods, kisses your cheek and says that he’ll give you just a bit more time.

jealous one night stand bf who doesn’t keep his word, secretly taking photos of both of you in his bed, kissing, fucking, cuddling, making out, and sending them to your partner while you’re away on a work trip.

jealous one night stand bf who shows up at you and your spouse’s home, grinning, as your partner recognizes him as the person from the photos of you cheating. he lets your partner cuss him out, take their anger out on him, instead of you. which ends pretty quickly when they call you a cheating bitch and a whore which is the green light for jealous one night stand bf to do whatever he thinks fit.

nobody really knows what really happens but the official version is that your partner died after getting drunk and getting hit by a car after wandering onto the street at night. the photos of you cheating have disappeared from your apartment as if they were never there.

jealous one night stand bf who consoles you, wiping away your tears and hugging your crying form. standing with you at your ex’s funeral, holding your hand, not giving a single fuck what people might say.

jealous one night stand bf who informs you with fake regret that the debt of the apartment you and your ex shared has now fallen onto you and you’ll need to pay it in full, unless you want to be put on the street.

jealous one night stand bf who offers to pay in your stead, giving you your freedom from the debt your dead ex left you saddled with. but he, of course, wouldn’t just pay for a random hook up – that’s prostitution. but whom he would pay for, is his wife.

so your title of a widow has barely settled in, when you’re already somebody else’s wife.

jealous one night stand bf turned husband who moves you into his home, lets you pick out whatever you want on his dime, feeds and clothes you and brands you with the diamond ring that is worthy to be worn by you, while simultaneously flashing his own ring with pride and happiness. he doesn’t care about your history, your infidelity or how they acquired you. all that matters is that you are here, right by his side and he’s willing to do everything and anything to keep you happy and satisfied. you want a pet? a baby? you can have anything you want, love. a car? he’ll let you pick out whichever you want, as long as it’s safe for you. anything and everything to make you forget a clause in your marriage contract where it states that divorce is not an option.

Peter B. Parker

always taking his wife’s side even if she’s wrong just to piss him off

- But she told me that it doesn’t count as babysitting if I’m saving the city at the same time! – Peter was walking back and forth around your small apartment after a small spat with Mary.

- And she’s absolutely right, - you agreed while keeping an eye on Mayday who was hanging from your ceiling in one of her webs. – If the mask is on, babysitting duties are off...

getting blamed for teaching Mayday swear words, even though it was Hobie who taught her to say “fuck”

always being that friend that reminds him that his wife is way out of his league (even though you don’t actually think that and you do it just to tease him...)

constantly flirting with his wife just to annoy him

- I’m so sorry, babe, - Peter kissed Mary’s cheek. – I’ll make it for that date night. I promise.

- How about I take you out, Mary? I think you deserv-

- Y/N!! – you heard Peter yell from the other room. – STOP FLIRTING WITH MY WIFE!

You leaned closer to her and lowered your voice.

- I saw this cool new restaurant downtown-

Mary smiled at you, playfully shook her head and laughed.

- I’m married, - she flashed her ring.

You didn’t blink for a hot second before asking:

- Happily?

- Y/N!!! – you leaned back in your chair just in time to avoid a pillow that flew straight past your face.

regularly being woken up by Peter calling you up at night to pick him up from the other side of town because he didn’t feel like waking Mary up and had no problem ruining your sleep

his love language with you as his friend being quality time – after not spending a longer period of time with you because of his duties as Spider-Man or because he had only spent time with Mayday and his wife, he would randomly show up at your apartment and tag along while you were running errands (eating in your car with his feet on the dashboard, getting crumbs all over the seat while he’s telling you every little detail about the latest news in his life) – never ever forgetting that you’re his best friend

when Mayday’s old enough to go to school and she needs help with homework – both you and Peter constantly arguing about which answers are the correct ones and Mary ending up having to take Mayday to the other room because it devolves into an actual fight

Miguel O’Hara

him obviously having a soft spot for you that allowed you to get away with pretty much anything

- It was irresponsible, highly dangerous, reckless behavior that I cannot-

- It wasn’t us! – Gwen stepped in to defend her and Miles. – It was Y/N’s mission! We weren’t even there!

Miguel was silent for a second. Then he turned around to where you were sitting in his chair, calmly eating popcorn and enjoying the show. He brushed his palm over his face, as you watched in satisfaction him having an inner battle with himself.

- Anything to add? – you asked, smirking.

He shook his head in disappointment with one hand still on his hip as he pinched the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.

- Just... – he sighed, walked over and pushed your crossed ankles off his desk. – Just don’t do it again...

taking his clothes, especially because you know it annoys him

- So, I have this new hoodie-

- That’s MY hoodie.

- It WAS your hoodie. Any piece of clothing you haven’t worn for more than two months is officially up for grabs by your best friend. Best I can do now is name it “our” hoodie.

always using the best friend card in the workplace and getting away with essentially everything because you’re best friends with the boss

his love language being acts of service – mostly because he’s awkward with any words of affirmation so he would usually change a light bulb if he saw that one of yours was burnt out or change your tire when he saw that one was flat – and when you noticed it, he would just brush it off as if it was nothing, saying “that’s what friends are for”

you being kinda the only reason Miguel hasn’t died from overworking himself – you usually would force him to go home, take a shower and sleep at least eight hours – which he would object but then you would take his office key, lock him out and leave no room for arguments

having Lyla as your partner-in-crime – her giving you a lot of embarrassing material on Miguel and constantly snitching on where he is and what is he doing...

no man or woman that you’re dating is ever good enough for you – and ever if you end up in a serious relationship, Miguel’s loyalty always lies with you – his first priority is making sure that you’re safe and comfortable in any relationship

being drunk and calling Miguel up in the middle of the night (in one of the rare times he’s actually sleeping and not working himself into the ground)

- Hi? – he would sit up in his bed and stare at the phone where you were Face-timing him.

- Hi, - you said in all seriousness. – Ok. Bye.

Hobie Brown

accidentally developing a habit of not bringing your wallet with you when both of you went out to eat that resulted in him always paying for you

- I’ll get you next time, - you promised, still chewing on your burger.

- Uh-huh, - was all you heard before he pulled the check closer to his side of the table. – Just so you know – you’ll have to take out a loan to repay me for all this stuff, - he gestured towards the food with one of his fries.

- Well, who’s keeping count anyway-

- One thousand and fifteen dollars.

You had been friends for two years at that point so it wasn’t unbelievable or anything...

his love language being physical touch – Hobie wouldn’t be embarrassed or ashamed to hug you whenever you or him needed a hug...

making a habit of stealing his food which initially annoyed him but then he compromised by making his orders larger to accommodate you

having quite romantic nicknames for each other, even though you’re just friends (names like “love”, “darling” and “babe”) but also randomly calling each other “bro” and “dude”

Hobie’s an excellent long-distance friend if one of you is out of town – calling you every day to make sure you’re safe and sound

if you have a pet, Hobie would have the biggest annoyed-dad energy – meaning, he would constantly complain about how clingy your pet/ pets are to him but occasionally you would catch him snuggling with the animal as if it was his own pet

if you don’t like some of your own family members, he hates them too, and if you have great relationship with your family – he loves them, no questions asked

Miles Morales

constantly cock-blocking him with Gwen like the annoying sibling you were

You watched your best friend and his crush sit on the balcony of the apartment building. At that point, Gwen had lightly touched his shoulder and you could’ve sworn you saw Miles melt into a puddle.

- HI! – you leaned out of your window that was right next to your best friend’s balcony. – HAVE WE MET? YOU’RE GWEN, RIGHT?

You saw Miles shake his head at you to go back inside your apartment. That only gave you more courage.

- Oh my god! – you grinned and reached out your hand over the space between your window and Miles’ balcony for Gwen to shake. – I’m Miles’ friend, Y/N. It’s such an honor to finally put a face to a name so talked about!

Gwen reached over to shake your hand.

- Really? – she looked unconvinced. – You’re talking about me to your friends, Miles?

He needed some time to find words, so instead your smile widened and you faked surprise:

- Is she the same girl whose hair you ripped out?

Gwen threw annoyed look at Miles who looked just as guilty as when it first happened.

- I have to say though, you can’t even see any difference, - you said when it was very clear that you could definitely see the shaved side of her head.

his love language being words of affirmation – especially after you found out he was Spider-Man and supported him no questions asked, he always let you know how much he appreciated you as his friend

when you first found out he’s Spider-Man, you got him a Spider-Man Halloween costume for his birthday and gifted it to him in front of his parents with a note attached just for him (and watched with satisfaction as Miles read “in case you ever need a backup” written on the paper)

if you’re taller than him – constantly testing his patience by reminding him by how much exactly he’s shorter than you – even though he’s a superhero and all that...

getting a driver’s licence before Miles – him being a very nervous driver so you take it upon yourself to teach him (and his dad being impressed by how much better he seems to get every time he’s driving with his son)

at one point, Miles’ dad to would catch you after you had thrown up some graffiti of your own but since you refused to call your folks because you knew they would be very, very mad, he would just sigh in annoyance and let you go with a warning

- If I catch you bragging about this to Miles, you’ll be right back here!

you making and selling Spider-Man merch but putting the most embarrassing photos of Miles on it just to annoy him

- Is that... Is that a photo of me with two birds glued to my hands?

- I believe that real life situations create the most amazing art, dude!

Jessica Drew

being constantly worried for her safety when she’s both pregnant and saving the city every day

You had developed a habit of becoming her designated driver so she wouldn’t swing back home on her webs.

- Hey, - you called out to your friend as soon as she had given her statement about the robbery to the police. – Get in!

You opened the passenger side door of your car.

Jessica had to take a double look when she saw you just casually waiting to pick her up after a fight.

- Y/N? – she looked around surprised. – What are you doing here?

- Apparently, I’m giving a ride home to a reckless pregnant lady, - you yawned and pointed to the passenger seat. – In.

She walked around and got in – really no point in refusing a free ride home when you’re already here.

- Are you in your pajamas? – she looked you over when you started the car.

- It’s one in the morning, - you pulled out of the parking lot. – Of course, I’m wearing pajamas.

- How did you even know where I was?

- I have a Spidey-sense of my own that’s called “my best friend is back on some bullshit that police could’ve sorted out themselves”, - you yawned again and then pointed towards her. – I have tracker in your boot’s heel.

Jessica’s love language being acts of service – which was matching to yours; essentially both of you doing little things for one another (you always dropping her off and picking her back up for any and all pregnancy-related appointments, her making more food so it’s enough for you too, her texting you where there’s less traffic while going about her day as Spider-Woman so you can get to work easier, you later on becoming a godmother/ godfather for her baby and spoiling that child to no end)

saying goodbye to each other like a married couple

- Drive safe, honey! Text me when you’re home!

- I will, darling! Love ya!

Earth-42!Miles Morales

becoming friends after you accidentally caught him in one of your security system traps that you had been developing

- Oh so it works, - you muttered under your breath, as Miles watched you press some buttons on your tablet. – This prototype alone, if sold, could get me a nice apart-

- Hey! – you turned towards where the intruder was trapped in your artificial web trap. – I really don’t have time for this bullshi-

You knew the Prowler. Or, more specifically, you had heard of him. At that point, you had never actually seen him in person. And you weren’t actually seeing him now – he was still in his suit.

- You broke into my lab, - you clarified. – Do you think I have time for your bullshit?

Instead of panicking, calling the security or the police, you simply put down the tablet, kicked your feet up on the table in front of you and opened a juice box.

For a small moment, the intruder stopped struggling, as if too bewildered by your reaction.

You raised your eyebrows, awaiting some sort of a threat or question...

- How are you even here? – a low voice – no doubt changed by a voice modulator – asked. – It’s a national holiday. No one was supposed to be here!

- Oh yeah, - you threw your empty juice box over the lab, straight into trash. – My boss made me stay overnight. Apparently, the security system prototype was supposed to be ready yesterday but I had taken a sick day so...

- What an asshole, - your captive murmured under his breath.

- Ain’t that the truth, - you agreed. – So, what are you after, - you looked into your tablet one more time before adding, - Miles Morales.

He was definitely surprised. After the initial shock, he took off his mask.

- How did you know who I am?

- I didn’t, - you turned your tablet towards him. – Well, not until my webs touched you and pulled any and all DNA data they could from you. Then, the program ran diagnostics through all collected DNA data from all over the world and – boom – a genetics match found identical to Miles Morales!

getting along very well with his uncle – something that Miles says annoys him but secretly he enjoys having more people that resemble a family to him, especially since his dad is gone

his love language being gift giving – Earth-42!Miles getting you a particular part for your tech that you’ve been looking for all over the city but instead of saying something – anything – he would just awkwardly thrust it into your hands, murmur something along the lines of “I got this for you” and immediately leave

if you’re single on Valentine’s day, you would order a pizza and hang around with Miles – he would say it’s sad that you have to hang out with your best friend but would actually appreciate the company

Gwen Stacy

taking dozens of photos of Gwen’s hair after the-Miles-incident where she had some of her hair ripped out

- No, stop! – Gwen tried to slap your phone out of your hand. – This is humiliating enough without lasting evidence!

- This is gonna be my Christmas card this year!

to outsiders it looks like you don’t like each other at all – both of you constantly bickering like siblings and yelling like a married couple; and both of you being surprised and taken aback when somebody genuinely points out that you should be nicer to one another (and immediately laughing when anyone assumes you hate each other...)

·       you always rely on Gwen to tell you the truth – no matter how harsh it is

- I think it went over well, - you said, as soon as your crush had left your lunch table.

When she hadn’t said anything, you turned to see her watching you with a blank look on her face.

- Your kidding, right? – she raised an eyebrow. – It was so awkward to watch I would’ve chosen to watch paint dry! That guy’s a dick! How can you even like that moron?

essentially having lots of your stuff over at her place and lots of her things at yours – and it’s gotten to a point where both of you have freed some space up in your desks, closets and dressers for your friend to comfortably leave their things in

constantly staying over at the other’s place – both your and her parents no longer surprised when one of you emerge to eat breakfast with everybody else there

Gwen’s love language being physical touch – especially if she’s nervous or anxious, she would wrap her pinky finger around yours just to know that you’re there

Pavitr Prabhakar

forever and always saying “Chai tea” just to piss him off

- Let’s get some Chai tea!

- Say it right and we might.

- I got you some Chai tea!

- I’m not drinking it if you keep saying it wrong!

- You know what I’m craving? Ch-

- I swear to god-

one of you constantly finding and perfecting some sort of a “talent” or “skill” – like juggling or doing a headstand – and the other one always trying to ruin the performance by knocking out one of the balls while juggling or making the other fall while doing a headstand

Pav’s love language being giving gifts – especially food; with him being Spider-Man, you would often text him while he was running errands and keeping peace all over the city to ask him to get you a particular snack (at some point, he had memorized your favorite places and would just get you something even before you asked – especially if he needed a favour from you and wanted to butter you up before asking...)

fighting for the sake of fighting

- YOU’RE SO WRONG! HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW WRONG YOU ARE!?

- ACTUALLY, I REALIZED I WAS WRONG, LIKE, TEN MINUTES AGO! BUT THEN YOU SAID SOME DUMB SHIT AND I DECIDED THAT I COULDN’T LET YOU WIN!

him accidentally pushing you out of the first story window when his crush unexpectedly came over and you were asleep on his couch (insert: Cameron Diaz’s character in The Other Woman being pushed out of the window) and you bringing it up any time you need a favor from him

- I can’t just do that! That’s borderline a crime!

Things around you blurred, people’s faces were distorted and music was giving you a headache. You lost count how many drinks you had about an hour ago and now you were regretting having any.

Your friends – who were more work acquaintances than friends – had ditched you, you had no car that you wouldn’t be able to operate in this condition anyway and not enough money to call a cab. All you had were a very revealing dress with a deep cut up your right thigh and a phone with around twenty percent charge left.

You stepped outside. Evening air did some but still not enough good for you to feel confident enough to walk those two and a half kilometers to your apartment building. Especially not in these knee-high boots. You would probably end up murdered. Or murdering yourself by accidentally stepping in front of a car. Either way, in a ditch.

You checked over you contacts for anyone who would pick up a phone and pick you up at the club at this ungodly hour. Since you had moved, most of your contacts were pretty much useless for this type of shit.

You pulled out your wallet. There were several business cards that you had gotten since you had started to work as a PR manager for The Last Of Us production team. Your eyes scanned over some of the names. Nico Parker. You weren’t sure she even got her license yet. Bella Ramsey. You knew for a fact she didn’t have a car.

Pedro Pascal.

Shit.

Well, from a purely objective stance, he was the best choice. He could pick you up and he didn’t give creepy vibes so technically you should be fine.

The problem was – he probably didn’t even know who you were. You had been on, like, two lunches with him with purely professional intentions. There had been more people from both the cast and the PR team and, even though you had spoken to him one-on-one multiple times, he had these types of conversations every day.

Worst he could do was say no.

To be fair, he could theoretically also cuss you out.

Or look at an unknown number and not even pick up.

Before you let your mind talk itself out of it, your fingers typed in his number and called.

It was quite chilly, now that you were out in dark alley with only your stripper dress on. It was pretty but god was it doing a shit job at keeping you warm.

The phone was calling and after the very first ring, you started to doubt yourself.

Maybe it would be less embarrassing if you just called your boss? Sure, she would know you indulged in an occasional living of your life but she was a woman and maybe would be more sympathetic than most of the men you worked with...

Two-

- Y/N? – unprepared for Pedro to actually pick up, you startled.

Your brain was foggy from all the alcohol and your body was still trying to decipher the sudden temperature drop so it took you several seconds to even put words together.

- Hey, are you alright? – it was actually him.

He really picked up at a quarter to midnight.

How did he know who was calling?

- Hey, Pedro, - up until this point you had used the formal “Mr. Pascal” just like everybody in your team but now it would feel weird. – So I have a bit of a... situation?

What was the term for getting drunk and placing all your trust in people that you had met two weeks ago?

- Are you alright? – he sounded worried. – Where are you?

Not wanting to appear nervous yourself, you tried to put on a smile, hoping it would make your voice sound lighter and careless.

- I’m at the... – you looked over your shoulder at the sign in front of the club, - Sensual Vibes, - you cringed at the name.

He definitely thinks you’re at a strip club.

- It’s a bar downtown. And I’m kinda drunk and I don’t really have any money, and my asshole friends left, and I’m also kinda col-

- Do you need me to pick you up? – he didn’t sound mad.

If anything – he sounded almost careful. As if he didn’t want to push any boundaries by insisting.

You were silent for a second.

Why was it so hard for you to ask for help when it was clear you desperately needed it?

Fucking pride.

You can cringe in shame tomorrow when you haven’t been murdered trying to walk home drunk...

- Yeah, - you said quietly before adding, - but it’s totally fine if you can’t. I’m sure two kilometers of walking will be fine if I can get off these stripper shoes-

- I’ll be there in twenty, - he said in a voice that left no arguments. – Go back inside. I’ll come in and get you.

- Who was that? – Oscar asked, stuffing the leftover pizza back into the box.

- Y/N, - Pedro put away his phone and went to get his car keys.

- Y/N? Who the fuc-

His hand stopped halfway to close the lid.

- Oh shit, - Oscar laughed, turning towards his friend. – Is that the girl from the PR team? It’s that Y/N?

Pedro didn’t answer and went to get his jacket. Oscar, in true friend fashion, followed him into the hallway, while teasing:

- Is that the same girl who still calls you Mr. Pascal even though you corrected her, like, thousand times?

Pedro just rolled his eyes.

This wasn’t exactly new. Oscar had never really met you – at least, in person – though there was abundance of information regarding you given by his friend every time Pedro had a drop of alcohol in his system.

- You know, if you weren’t so famous, I’d think she actually didn’t even know your first name by how much she uses the surname... – Oscar went back to pick up the leftover pizza, before turning back and looking at his friend suspiciously. – Are you sure she meant to call you? I mean, if she called you by your name, the call might have been meant for another Pedro. All I’m saying is-

Pedro threw him a dark look and turned to leave. Could that be true? You never really called him by his name and he was almost one hundred percent sure you didn’t even have his number...

- Lock up before you leave, - Pedro murmured before opening the door.

You were drunk and alone so, either way, you’ll have to make peace with it.

Once Pedro had ended the call, all you could do was blankly stare at the screen. To be fair, you were very intoxicated so... could you had hallucinated this whole conversation?

Either way – waiting inside was probably the best choice here...

You dropped down on a sofa in the foyer. You felt a headache coming on.

God, this is gonna be embarrassing...

After fifteen minutes of waiting and contemplating about leaving on your own, a hand lightly touched your shoulder, making you startle yet again. You had been way too focused on a painting on the wall to notice anybody approaching.

- Pedro? – your eyebrows shot up as if you were surprised that the person who you had called had actually shown up.

- Were you waiting for someone else? – there was a note in his voice you couldn’t quite decipher and your foggy mind refused to cooperate.

- N-no, - you stammered out. – I just wasn’t sure you would actually show up...

Now was his turn to look surprised. He opened his mouth to say something but, when you lightly swayed on your feet, he quickly put an arm around your shoulders to steady you.

When he lightly pressed his palm on the skin between your shoulder blades, a small shiver ran through your body, making you look up at him. He had probably seen or feel you shiver and had interpreted that as you being cold which was technically true. He pulled off his jacket that looked way too big for you.

You were by no means model-thin but the jacket was oversized on him so it looked like it would end up around your knees.

You shook your head.

- I’m not taking your jacket after you drove all this w-

- Don’t argue, - was all he said before lifting your arm, pulling the sleeve over it and then repeating the same on the other side. – And it’s still longer than that pretty thing you call a dress, - his eyes ran over your half-naked body.

Not in a leering way. But he did gulp when his eyes touched on the slit across your thigh.

Great, there’s no getting this out of memory, he chastised himself for enjoying and savoring you while you were very clearly drunk.

Shit, he’s probably uncomfortable, was all you could think about.

His car was pleasantly warm. You managed to climb in on your own but when it came to the seatbelt, you fingers still lacked focus and were stiff. After two unsuccessful attempts at connecting the two parts, Pedro gently peeled your fingers from the belt, reached over and buckled you in himself.

Before he could step back, you placed your hand on his bicep to stop him. The touch itself was innocent enough but you felt your skin lightly tingling as if you had touched a wire with low charge.

Pedro’s eyes followed you to where your skin had touched his. All he could do was stare at your fingers around his arm.

- Shit, sorry, - you decided he was probably uncomfortable and withdrew your hand, - sorry, I didn’t mean-

- It’s fine-

- I just wanted to say thank you, - your gaze held his. – I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.

There was something intoxicating in doing favors for you. He would’ve driven to pick up any of the women he knew if they were drunk and alone but your trust in him made him a bit delirious.

He wanted you to call him if you ever needed to get home drunk but he also wanted to drive you to a meaningless appointment and pick you up after work.

- It’s fine, - he swallowed before stepping back. – You’re welcome.

He could hear Oscar’s teasing voice in his head, telling him how absurdly romantic it was for him to simp after a girl who probably read his number off a business card when hers had been cataloged in his phone since day one. He probably could recall it from memory at this point.

Pedro closed the door on your side and walked around to get into the driver’s seat. He tried to take in some of the chilling evening air before getting in.

- ... and my friend said just go up to him and ask him out, - he heard you say once he got in, - but every time I looked at his pretty face I chicked out... – you hiccuped, - chic... chickened out! And then-

Your words were slurred and half-coherent.

Pedro started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and then threw a glance at you.

- Who were you trying to ask out?

- I wasn’t trying... And he wouldn’t come anyway...

Alcohol had made you braver and in a stupid attempt to rip your own band-aid off, you turned towards Pedro and whispered in an almost broken voice:

- Would you go on a date with me?

You needed his answer. Tomorrow was gonna be shameful but you could, at least, write this off as a drunken mistake. You had finally done it, you had finally gathered all your courage and taken a step-

But it was the way you had said it. With the accent on the word ‘you’. All Pedro heard was your confession about liking another man and how busy he was, and now you looked at him with glossy eyes and it made him wonder if this stupid man you were talking about had said something to make you insecure. You had just confessed about your crush and needed confirmation that other men – smarter men – would still date you.

But knowing that you trusted him enough to take you home drunk, he knew he couldn’t just confess about wanting you for himself. That was a dick move used by every false male friend around the world.

- I... – you watched his throat work, as he was putting words together, then he ripped his gaze away from where you sat in his car, in his jacket, for the first time ever giving him your undivided attention. – I think you’re amazing and any man would be lu-

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. His figure got distorted through the rapidly increasing moisture.

You are amazing.

Any man would be lucky to date you.

Not me though.

Last one wasn’t said out loud but, in your defense, it was usually never spelled out when a person was rejecting someone.

This was a rejection speech.

He was giving you a rejection speech!

You lifted your hand to silence him. He immediately did and you looked out through the window on your side.

- Please, don’t, - your voice broke at the end. – I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

It was said and done.

You had asked and he had rejected you. Work’s gonna be a bitch but PR, thankfully, was a team effort so you could probably take meetings with another member of the cast and make one of your colleague meet with Pedro. Eventually, your stupid little feelings would stop hurting and you would move on.

Eventually.

Until then you probably should avoid Pedro every chance you got.

It was said and done.

Even drunk, you had realized his incurable crush on you and in a very “I’m well-versed in public relations” manner had put an end to his confession. What was it that you had said? I respect you way too much...

Respect you way too much to outright say “no”.

You had a crush on a man you worked with. Probably someone your age. Probably someone who’s life wasn’t constantly dissected on every media platform.

You were a real pretty girl so even if you never gathered the courage to take the first step, that man you talked about would probably do it for you. He would be stupid not to.

Which meant that at some point you would be seen on set, laughing and kissing some other man who probably had no idea for how long you had lusted after him. And Pedro knew that if your crush forgot what he’s got, he would be way too tempted to teach him a lesson or two about not throwing away life’s biggest treasures.

Maybe even way too tempted to put the fear of god into that man. To threaten to never dare to break your pretty little heart.

But you had good taste in most things. And the man you were talking about asking out was probably good. More than good. He probably was respectful in public and would make you scream his name in private. Buy you a nice dress and later rip it off your body. Pick you up to take you places and then wait patiently for you to come back to him.

You deserved the best. And you were probably way too good for that boy you liked. Granted, Pedro thought you were way too good for basically everyone, including himself, but he also wasn’t one of those men that would pass on an amazing woman all because “she’s too good for him”.

Nah. He knew he would greedily accept your love and lust if only you offered. He might have thought you were too good for him but he also knew there were many things he could provide for you. He was successful, had money, a stable job, he was mature and wouldn’t play any games. Besides, he was damn near sure he loved you and even with you reciprocating just half of that love and affection, it still would be perfect.

- What’s your add-

Once he looked over to where you were watching him just a minute ago, Pedro found you fast asleep with your head pressed against the window. His jacket, way too big for you, had fallen down your shoulder, revealing that distractingly little napkin you bravely called a dress.

Shit.

This was definitely not good.

If he had to bring you back to his home, he knew he would see ghosts of you every time he stepped inside his own house. And that would be bad. Right now you were already everywhere at work, he couldn’t afford to let you make yourself at home in his private space too. Damage would take months to undo.

He contemplated waking you up but even then there would be no guarantee that you would even remember where you lived in this condition.

Pedro started driving towards his own home slower than necessary, hoping you would wake up at some point and give him your address.

All he could hope for was that Oscar had already left because, otherwise, Pedro would never hear the end of this...

Shitshitshit.

Your head was hurting even before you opened your eyes. That was never a good thing. Once you did, you were met with a semi-dark room that was vaguely lit by a small lamp left on on the nightstand.

Where the fuck where you?

This looked way too homey to be a hotel and way too impersonal to be someone’s bedroom. You lifted the thick blanket that was draped over you to check out if you weren’t missing any clothes. Or some more important things, like body parts.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion when you were met with the same light blue dress you had worn at the club with just more wrinkles in it now. All you were missing where the boots that you saw placed by the bed.

You checked the small alarm clock on the nightstand.

5:06 AM.

It was early.

On a day off, you probably wouldn’t have woken up this early but your body had most likely dealt with the alcohol in your system and had woken up naturally once you had sobered up.

Then you noticed the small note placed next to the clock.

I’m not sure how much you remember but I picked you up from a club. You didn’t give me an address before passing out, so I brought you home with me. You’re in my guest bedroom. I’m in the one down the hall. I got you some aspirin and water. And some clothes.

Pedro.

There was something else written on the paper but it was scribbled out. You lifted the note and placed it before the small lamp, letting the light shine through.

Cute dress.

You smiled, however that smile lasted for exactly one second before you remembered the conversation in the car. You had asked Pedro on a date. He had given you the “there’s more fish in the sea” speech.

God.

You had excused your bravery with “you can live today and be embarrassed tomorrow” but now, when tomorrow was finally here, you weren’t sure it was actually worth it.

Thank god you didn’t work closely with Pedro because this would be ten times more awkward if you were an actress.

You quickly changed into the clothes Pedro had left for you. It was a white t-shirt with something spelled in a foreign language you didn’t understand. The shirt reached down to your knees and covered more than your dress had. You could technically leave in just the t-shirt but your sudden sobriety would probably result in you freezing to death so you decided to wear sweatpants as well. You rolled up the ends of the pants that were too long, threw a glance in the mirror and decided that you looked presentable enough.

Once you left the guest room with the dress still in your hand, you tried to find out if Pedro had already woken up. It seemed unlikely. It was very early.

And that seemed to be the truth, as none of the lights were on in neither the kitchen nor the living room. Or in the hallway.

Thank god the key was still in the door and you didn’t have to wake him up to unlock the door. You carefully tiptoed through the hallway and sneaked out through the front door, leaving nothing but a vague scent of your perfume and a note on the living room table.

Thank you. Truly. You have no idea how grateful I am. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

That’s exactly how Pedro found your note three hours later when he woke up. Note had no name. Apparently, you didn’t assume he rescued women every night and didn’t think he would mix you up with someone else.

As if he ever could.

He was quite grateful to have missed you, in case you remembered how he had come onto you in the car. He didn’t want a pitying glance and you saying sorry, as if you had anything to be sorry about.

Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

Pedro let out a bitter laugh. That’s what you sign at the bottom of a work email, in hopes the recipient never truly reaches out for anything. You just felt like you owed him.

three weeks later

Pedro felt somebody brush a makeup brush over his temple to add some last touches before the filming started. People were running around, adding and taking down some props. Camera crew were doing some last check-ups. And in what Pedro thought was a torturosly ironic touch to an already important scene that caused some nerves to resurface, you were there.

In fairness, you weren’t here on your own and by your own wish. Some people of the PR and social media management teams were here, hoping to take some photos of behind the scenes for marketing.

And they were all pretty irrelevant because his eyes didn’t leave you for one second.

Pedro, Bella and some of the others were placed good ten meters from where you were standing by the door of the room that seemed to shrink every second. You were either unaware of his intense gaze or simply ignored it.

Pedro didn’t know which one would piss him off more.

There weren’t many things that didn’t irritate him these days. Oscar had started to call it Y/N withdrawal. As if he was an addict. A junkie who’s been cut off from his favorite drug of choice.

At first, Pedro was understanding. You probably felt weird you had clocked him liking you and wanted space. Fine. He would be an asshole not to give you space. Then he called you but the call always went to voicemail. On week two he had the first PR dinner since ‘the incident’ and when you didn’t show and had sent one of your assistants in your place, it only soured Pedro’s mood. The assistant had lied about you not feeling well but when you were still nowhere to be seen on the next meeting – and the next – he knew it was an excuse.

You were making excuses.

Week three took the crown when at one of the advertisement meetings that was mandatory for all cast and production team members, you had apparently ‘had a doctor’s appointment’.

Now he was pissed at the whole world and especially himself for fucking this up. You were a smart girl and he should’ve expected you to put two and two together that night. And, in addition, he was just a tiny bit pissed at you for not giving him a chance to apologize.

When you excused yourself and went into the kitchen, Pedro quickly stood up.

- Sorry, - he murmured to the makeup artist. – I’ll be right back.

Filming was set to start in ten minutes.

That was all he needed to say the things that needed to be said.

You were facing the open fridge when Pedro walked in. You read something that was written on the side of what looked like a protein shake.

You looked good. There were no signs of tiredness in your eyes. No sluggish movements. No yawning.

That was good, Pedro tried to tell himself.

Would it hurt for you to be a little affected that he was absent from your life for three whole weeks?

Then his eyes caught a thin bracelet around your wrist. It was shiny and had a minimalistic heart charm on it.

Pedro recalled Oscar once mentioning getting something similar to his wife because “the only time women wear heart jewelry is if it’s gifted by a man who’s interested”.

It was quite a big assumption that the bracelet was, one, a gift, two, from a man, and three, that it was the same moron you wanted to date. And yet it only fueled Pedro’s irrational jealousy and anger.

He let go of the door and it fell shut with a loud bang.

You jumped.

- It’s really unprofessional, you know, - Pedro accused. – This behavior of yours lately.

It only took a second for you to go from a startled look to a glare. You put the drink back in the fridge and shut the door. Loudly.

How matching.

- Excuse you? – you pushed back.

- I get that you’re avoiding me and that’s fine but you also have a job to do, - he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. – You’ve missed several PR meetings and allowed your underage intern to replace you.

You chuckled under your breath and looked away.

So that’s what this was about...

- So you feel a bit neglected because an intern – highly skilled, might I add, - was attending a few of the meetings? Is he not good enough for you?

Pedro looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

- I don’t care if he’s as useless as a toddler – don’t change the subject!

You blew away a strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

God you looked hot angry.

When you tried to side-step him and leave, Pedro followed your movements until his back hit the door, leaving you without an escape. He leaned against it, wrapped his right palm around his left wrist and looked down at you.

- You’re avoiding me, - he was glaring at you.

You glared back.

- No shit.

Pedro had expected more resistance. Or more excuses. He definitely expected you to look at him with a confused stare and say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’. Now that you had done none of that, it felt a bit weird to “confront” you because you had had every right to avoid him.

- I’m just making sure you don’t get a write-up for skipping work, - even though the words were genuine, the tone was rude and you recoiled.

You looked up at him as if he’d slapped you.

- Are you threatening to snitch on me for skipping few meetings?

His eyes widened.

Shit.

- That’s not wh-

- Fuck you.

Now he looked like you had slapped him.

This was going downhill and fast. He had never accused anybody of bad work ethics and you had never cursed at someone for essentially doing nothing wrong, really.

You had spent three weeks, trying to soothe your ego. But rejection still stung. And, for the first time in your life, your personal feelings had affected your professional life. There was no excuse for that.

So you exhaled, counted to ten, got to five and decided to push your emotions down. You didn’t actually believe that Pedro would ever attempt anything to harm your career but he was still a big star and, would somebody come across this very unprofessional conversation, your future job opportunities might be in jeopardy.

- Listen, I’m sorry, okay? – you said, then quickly added. – For missing those meetings.

You didn’t want to voice that you were also apologizing for taking rejection badly.

Even though, you were.

- Won’t happen again.

His eyes softened.

- I’m sorry too, okay? – he lifted his hand to place it on your shoulder or upper arm but decided against it in the last second and let it fall back against his side.

You laughed. Genuinely.

- What are you sorry for?

- For what I said in the car, - he explained.

Your eyes returned to the startled expression that they were in when he first came in. You had wanted to avoid that night but he had brought it up voluntarily. He could see your prey-like expression and shook his head:

- I didn’t mean... – he got quiet for a second. – That would be a lie. I did mean it. But I think I could’ve worded it better. Maybe. Or explained it to you when you were sober...

I didn’t mean... That would be a lie. I did mean it.

His words, even though soft and placating, still grazed your heart like a knife.

You could respect him for not leading you on.

Leading someone on was still worse than letting somebody down gently.

Be a big girl and accept defeat like a champ, you motivated yourself.

- That’s fine. It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t mean anything.

You had realized he liked you, damn near loved you, and it didn’t mean anything.

His love meant nothing.

Pedro swallowed and nodded. When you gestured towards the door that he was still blocking, he stepped aside, letting you leave.

- Did you feel harassed by me? – he asked before you left.

You laughed. But when you realized he was dead-ass serious, your smile fell.

- What?

- In my car. That night. Did you feel harassed by me?

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Even though it was absurd for him to ask this, you felt warmth engulf your heart.

He’s making sure you didn’t feel unsafe with him...

God.

He’s gonna make a great partner to someone someday...

- God no, - you grinned, trying to put him at ease.

- You sure? – he asked.

- Of course, - you gave him a bittersweet smile. – How could I have felt harassed? Nothing happened.

Nothing happened, as in, I asked you out and you turned me down, simple as that.

Nothing happened, as in, you figured I liked you and that realization meant nothing, I still mean nothing to you.

When week four rolled in, things had went back to normal. The weird kind of normal. The professional kind of normal. You were present in all PR meetings you needed to attend, Pedro went out of his way to treat you like a friend.

He had started bringing these weird mini cupcakes from around where he was living. Every meeting, he would show up and give them out to all, usually five or six, attending persons. He would never skip you, giving you exactly the same amount of pleasantries, sweets and eye contact as to every other person from the cast and PR teams. It was as if he had timed your interactions to make sure you felt identical to everybody else here.

You translated his actions as he’s making sure to drive home the point of “I treat everybody like this, don’t make this weird, you’re not special in that sense”.

He translated his actions as making sure you saw that even after you rejected him, he still wouldn’t be passive-aggressive towards you and wouldn’t exclude you from anything.

“Don’t make things weird” had become a motto for both of you, at this point. This was exactly why Pedro had advised Oscar to also invite you to the party he was throwing in honor of ending the shooting of one of Oscar’s movies. Even though Pedro knew you would show up all dolled up and, most likely, with a plus one, as suggested the invitation.

And “don’t make things weird” was exactly why you had accepted, even though the last time you had attended a formal function, it had ended with you at a club and with no ride or money.

You had showed up in a black sleeveless dress that reached your knees. Pedro had had exactly one drink and he was using the hell out of it as an excuse why he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – take his eyes off you. The dress was simple and maybe exactly because of that your own beauty shone through more than usual when there was nothing to distract people from it.

Then you turned towards the small home bar and his eyes slid over your frame, landing on the dress’ very deep slit. This time it was on the behind of your dress’ skirt.

You and the fucking slits. Making every piece of clothing look like it was designed specifically for you...

- Thank god moods are not contagious because this would be the saddest happy event ever, - Oscar’s hand landed on his friend’s shoulder, as he followed Pedro’s gaze down to where you were standing.

Pedro unintentionally moved to block you from his friend’s eyes which came as a surprise to both. It was very clear that Oscar had no negative or positive intentions regarding you so it was even more weird when Pedro felt small pang of jealousy when he saw the bottle of wine you had gifted Oscar for hosting the party.

Oscar raised his eyebrows, amused.

As if asking, really?

You, on the other hand, were doing everything to avoid Pedro that evening. He looked good. He looked so handsome even though he was one of the very few men here who had chosen to wear a sweater instead of a suit or a dress shirt. You definitely needed a distraction and given how it had ended with drinking last time you got drunk, you avoided alcohol like it was the plague, only drinking virgin cocktails.

The biggest problem with avoiding someone is that that person is living in your head rent free, in order for you to be where they are not. Which meant that before you avoid them in a room, you have to check specifically for them. The biggest support for you in this was the fact that Pedro seemed to avoid you as well, so it was quite easy to keep your distance.

- Is there a guest I’m not aware of? – Oscar humored lightly. – Or are you stalked by someone?

Only the ghost of your best friend.

You smiled, shook your head and asked a few questions about the movie to whose ending this function was dedicated to. After some time he excused himself and said to go look for his wife but before he left, Oscar casually threw out:

- I’m sorry things are weird between you and Pedro right now, - he seemed apologetic.

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Pedro had clearly told him about what had happened.

It was already embarrassing enough for you to realize that Pedro had been sober that night and remembered every word your drunk self had confessed. And, to add insult to injury, the rejection still kinda stung. But he had clearly told everything to another man. And that one made you even more upset because you knew Oscar by reputation only but that reputation was quite good. So he probably felt sympathy for your little groupie act by asking out someone clearly out of your league.

You averted your eyes. How many other people knew?

- Look, he’s a grown ass man, he’ll be fine, - Oscar put his hand on your shoulder in a pacifying manner. – It’s just that this was his longest crush ever so it will take more time than usual...

Because you actively tried to block out his voice, the words didn’t register at first. And, once they did, they still didn’t make much sense.

- But it will-

- What did you just say?

Your tone was harsh and it made Oscar do a double-take.

- I... I’m not trying to pressure you into anything by what I said about being his longest crush, if that’s what you meant. I promise.

Your eyes searched his face for any signs of amusement or humor... or confusion. When you didn’t find any, you put down your drink and turned your full attention towards him.

- What did he tell you happened that night?

Oscar looked at you like you were a child asking to explain the alphabet.

- I’m not sure I should-

- He clearly told you something! – you raised your voice – not loud enough to be heard by everyone but enough to make some of the closest people turn heads.

Oscar nodded:

- All he told me was you figured out he liked you. And you don’t like him back, - Oscar used the tone he probably used with his kids. – And that’s fine. You have every r-

- What kind of fairy tale did he fed you? – your first thought was that Pedro had lied to his friend.

But why would he ever do that? What could he possibly get out of telling people you were the one who rejected him? Letting someone down wasn’t a crime and it didn’t make you a bad person.

- He rejected me! I straight up asked him out and he gave me the whole speech about there being men who would be oh so lucky to date me. And then he kept on friend-zoning me for a month just for funsies. Making sure I knew my place was with all the other people who worked for him!

When you turned to leave – and maybe give that free alcohol a shot or two – Oscar unceremoniously grabbed your upper arm and turned you back.

- That can’t be true, Y/N! You were the one drunk! Are you sure you remember everything okay?

You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your arm away.

- I was drunk, not stupid! I know rejection when I receive one!

Oscar’s grasp wasn’t hurting you or anything but it probably looked like you were fighting from afar, at this point.

- Look, Y/N, calm down, - he lowered his voice so other people wouldn’t hear a thing. – All he told me was that you had confessed liking someone you worked with, and-

- And who do you think that someone from work is, genius?

You could almost hear gears turning in Oscar’s head.

- So... When he said that you had asked if... When you were wondering if he would date you, it wasn’t because...

You waited.

- ... it wasn’t because you were insecure about nobody being interested in you?

- Why would I give a shit if other people were interested in me?

It was a good thing you were sober because it was taking a good amount of time to understand this even sober. Your eyes widened when you finally put the pieces together.

The way Pedro looked almost crushed when you had interrupted him to silence him in the car.

Please don’t. I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

Could he had mistaken it for rejection?

You silencing him out of respect so you didn’t have to tell him you didn’t want to date him? Did he thought that you were thinking his ego couldn’t handle being rejected by someone who was not rich or famous?

Shit.

You tried to find his pink sweater somewhere in the crowd. He couldn’t have gone home already, could he? You had relatively little knowledge of the layout of Oscar’s house so your best shot was to run into Pedro somewhere.

Your wish manifested a bit too literally, when you roughly rounded a corner and ran straight into someone.

Pedro’s fingers wrapped around your upper arm in the same manner Oscar’s hand had just mere seconds ago. Just to drive home the point of your attraction to him, a small shot of electricity shot through your arm whereas nothing even similar had happened when his friend had touched your arm.

- Careful, - he steadied you and then removed his hand.

When you looked up, you noticed that he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You thought you had gotten over this awkwardness...

Guess not.

With music still sounding throughout the house, you looked around, grabbed the front of his sweater and pushed him into one of the many guest bedrooms here. Once you closed and locked the door, you turned towards Pedro who was looking a bit thrown out of the boat.

For one moment, nobody said anything. Then you pushed down the dress that had ridden up your thighs while you were frantically looking for him throughout the house, and stepped closer to him.

The height difference was always a turn on for you but right now it did nothing but annoy.

- Sit down, - you commanded.

He took a step back and sat down on the bed.

When he looked up at you, you realized that you probably shouldn’t have asked him to do that. Your foggy brain finally decided to give you back few of the memories missing from that night month ago.

When he had gently lowered you onto the bed and you had finally woken up just in time to see him drop down on his knees to take off your boots. Out of concern, he had looked up at you with a very similar expression as he was having right now. With his lids lowered, eyes dark and pupils dilated.

When his brows furrowed in confusion, unaware of your flashbacks, you snapped out of it.

- Why does Oscar think I rejected you in your car that night? – you demanded before you lost your courage.

Pedro looked away.

You had had a long day at work today and still most of your energy had went into dodging Pedro at every corner, trying to not even look at him, while simultaneously keeping an eye on him at all times to not accidentally get close. Your patience had worn out long before you got here.

You unceremoniously grabbed his chin and turned his head back towards you.

- Look, I’m sorry I told him, - Pedro raised his eyes to meet yours. – I needed to tell someone and you were avoiding me and refused to even look at me!

You shook your head and tried to step back before he grabbed your hand in both of his.

- I’m sorry.

- What are you even sorry for? – you ripped your hand from his. – For lying?

When all he did was stare up at your in confusion, you took a step back to keep some distance.

- Do you get pity points or something for act-

Pedro stood up and you lost any advantage you had due to height. When he advanced towards you and you still stepped back, he caught your wrist, refusing to let you leave.

- Stop running from me! – he demanded. – Talk to me!

Fine.

- Fine, - you still tugged on your arm and he still didn’t let go so at some point you had to give up on it and leave your hand in his grasp.

- Tell me why you were avoiding me for a month, - he used a painfully soft tone as if afraid you would run at the very first sign of confrontation.

You were silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to sound like a mature adult.

- I guess... – you sighed and decided to just get over it. – I was hurt that you weren’t interested in me when I asked you out that night after you picked me up. I was butt hurt and it wasn’t fair to you because you have ever-

You didn’t get to finish when he closed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. You would’ve pulled back by surprise if not for Pedro’s hand cupping the back of you neck.

Your heart seemed to simultaneously skip a beat and stop altogether. After the initial shock, you slid your hand into Pedro’s hair and lightly pulled him back by it.

Amusement danced in his eyes with a light shake of his head.

- To think we could’ve done this weeks ago, - he laughed.

You felt a bit giddy inside, still not really comprehending every piece of this misunderstanding but, in your defense, it probably had been quite hard to catch any love signals that night when you were wasted.

- You want me to ask you out again? – you proposed.

- Nah, - he shook his head. -  I’ll do the honors, - he cleared his throat. – You’re going on a date with me.

You cocked your head.

- Are you asking or telling?

- I assumed you were a sure thing, drunk words being sober thoughts and all that...

This felt a bit too good to be true but you weren’t going to question it. Once you both left the guest room, with Pedro’s hand still wrapped around yours, and turned the corner to return to the party, you found Oscar leaning against the wall in the hallway with a drink in his hand and an amused look in his eyes.

- No freaky business under my roof, - he gave his friend with a stern look. – That’s like the only rule I have.

Only when his eyes found your intervened hands, he chuckled under his breath.

- I want a separate room, Joel! – you demanded, trying to keep up with him. – I demand a separate room!

Joel laughed under his breath. It was cute how you thought he would just let you sleep anywhere else other than in his bed.

- It’s funny how you think you’re in any position to demand anything, - he threw you an amused glance.

You breathed heavily, trying to keep up with him. You wouldn’t have been able to walk as fast as him even before the whole apocalypse thing but after QZ rations, you had lost some of your weight, muscle mass and a good amount of your stamina.

- Could you at least slow down? – you asked. – What’s even the point of walking as if somebody’s chasing us?

Joel fixed the rifle that was hanging over his shoulder and turned to look at you.

- Tires you out, - he shrugged. – Makes you more clumsy. Less likely to attempt running away.

You ground your teeth together. Bastard.

It turned out that Jackson was around an hour from where Joel had kept you. You probably would’ve either accidentally ran into the woods to be eaten by wolves or cluelessly stumbled onto Jackson, unaware that you’re walking straight back into your captor’s arms.

It was close to evening when both of you finally reached the town. Joel waved up at the armed men that were standing guard and they, recognizing him, gave command to open the gates. You watched the town that stood before you in such an awe, that only after a moment you realized Joel had said something.

- What?

- Hands behind your back.

When all you did was stare, Joel roughly turned you around and grabbed your wrists. You felt handcuffs being slapped on them before Joel turned you back to face him.

- Is this really necessary? – you asked in a low voice, trying to make your eyes tear up on command. – Please, Joel.

For the first time he looked a bit conflicted, looking in your glassy eyes.

- Sorry, baby. This is the standard procedure for all newcomers.

- Where would I even run?

- Didn’t stop you before.

A man and a woman came to great you. A man and a pregnant woman.

This must be his brother and sister-in-law, you decided.

Joel’s lips touched you ear, as he leaned closer. His breath tickled the small hairs, as he lowered his voice to say:

- Don’t try anything. Your freedom is given. It can just as easily be taken.

At this point, even though you were still very much a captive, you had become aware of few things. For one, the effect you had on Joel was much stronger than the one he had on you. You could use that. And you planned on using it.

Two, trying to escape right after getting here would be pointless. All it would accomplish would be Joel paying even more attention to each step you took. You had to make him feel safe enough to lower his guard. You had to make him pliant.

You rested the back of your head against his neck, turned your face towards him and gave Joel a lopsided smile.

- I’m not trying anything, - you lightly brushed the knuckles of your tied hands over his thigh. – I plan on making your life so miserable you’ll beg me to leave.

His eyes found yours. He looked a bit surprised by the sudden change in your behavior. That lasted for only a second though. Joel laughed and placed a kiss on your right temple.

- I’ll only ever beg you to cum, - he objected, - not go.

You withdrew your hands from him and turned back towards his approaching family.

- But please, - he lightly pushed you forward, - by all means, make me beg.

After Tommy and Maria had lightly interrogated you with questions that were answered mostly by Joel, he had taken off the handcuffs. Both the sheriff and her husband seemed to believe the story that you had returned on your own, by your own wish and had only ran into Joel outside of Jackson.

- I think we have an empty room with Josie, - Maria had suggested, while she packed some clothes for you.

- She’s staying with me, - Joel left no room for arguments. – I have the whole house to myself. She’ll be very comfortable there.

Three pairs of eyes looked for your reaction. Maria and Tommy seemed to look for your objection so they could step in and make Joel back off. Joel’s eyes glistened with challenge, as if saying, I dare you to put up a fight.

- Y/N? – Maria asked carefully. – You okay with that?

But you were not interested in a fight. For this to work, you needed to convince Joel that you were not a flight risk.

Your own eyes met Joel’s in challenge.

- Of course, - you tilted your head in what probably looked like flirting to Tommy and Maria. – I’m looking forward to sharing a house with you, Joel.

When neither one of you broke eye contact, Tommy cleared his throat and Maria placed some clothes in your hands. When both of them stepped aside, you turned to see Joel’s eyes still firmly glued to your form.

I’ll fuck your life up, you mouthed.

All you received in answer was silence, as he shook his head laughing.

Joel unlocked the door of his house and opened it, stepping aside and letting you in. When you silently watched, refusing to go in, he took a step forward and wrapped an arm around your waist.

You expected him to lift you up and force you inside but all he did was lean into you and whisper:

- They’re watching, - he said in a low voice. – How will you make my life a living hell if they’ll make you stay at Josie’s?

You glared at him and turned towards the door, making sure to flick your hair in his face as you turned. All the reaction you got was a light chuckle behind your back.

You wasted no time, heading straight for the kitchen. It was spotless which was of no real surprise to you. Knowing Joel, his house would probably look like a furniture magazine. You turned to face him, leaning against the kitchen island and placed your hands against the cool marble counter top.

Joel left your bags in the hallway and followed you inside the kitchen. He leaned against the door right in front of you.

Even though there was a lot of space between you, you could’ve sworn you felt his heavy breath against your face.

His eyes burned your skin, as they shamelessly roamed over your body, examining every inch of your skin. When he reached your face, they were already much too dark to be considered grey.

- Welcome home, sweetheart, - he said darkly. – Feel free to make yourself comfortable.

- Okay, - your shrugged and lifted your hand to the small cabinet above the stove. – Whatever you wish, darling.

Your fingers lightly caught the top of one of the mugs placed there and you flicked it forward in a manner you had only ever seen a cat do.

It broke into dozen pieces on the floor.

Before Joel could do anything to stop you, you reached for your next victim. A crystal vase that was placed in the corner of the island. You lightly pushed it over, and it shattered on the floor.

Then you reached for a kitchen knife, dug it into the beautiful pearly countertop and, pushing it in with all the strength you got, dragged it over the shiny top. The knife left an ugly scar with a horribly sounding shriek.

When you pushed your hair away from your eyes and lifted you head to look at Joel, all you were met with was silent amusement. He slowly pushed away from the door frame and approached you, walking over the shattered glass on the floor. When he was close enough for you to touch, you suddenly pressed the knife against his throat, making him tilt his head back.

Before you had a chance to even utter a single word, the knife had already left your hand and was thrown on the floor. Joel’s right hand wrapped around the back of your neck, while the left wrapped itself around your waist, lifted you up and placed you on top of the ruined counter, making you both the same height.

He smiled, as he leaned in to place a kiss on your throat, while drawing circles on the back of your neck.

You sighed involuntarily.

That was all you got before he removed his hand and cupped your jaw, turning your eyes on him.

- God I wish you would just take your frustrations out on me, - his eyes looked over your glossy lips. – Just ride out your attitude and be done with it.

You tilted your head.

Was he even mad about the ruined counter top or the smashed items laying on the floor?

How far could you take this before he was done with you?

- You want me to take my anger out on you? – you asked innocently. – Make you suffer? That’s what you want?

His pupils dilated so fast you had to blink to convince yourself you hadn’t imagined it. Was he really getting off on you being violent?

Both his hands traveled up your thighs and ended up on your waist. His throat worked as he gulped.

- Yes, baby, make me pay for taking you, - Joel encouraged. – Show me how angry you are.

You could’ve sworn roles had suddenly switched.

Before you had a chance to reconsider your actions, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face. His head swung to the side but his hands tightened around your waist. He was breathing heavily.

For anyone else it would seem like Joel was angry. But it was quite easy to mistake anger for arousal.

- Do it again, - he said in a hoarse voice that dripped with lust.

You were tempted to comply. But then you remembered your one goal.

Make his life miserable.

This was not making Joel miserable. He was enjoying himself.

So instead you leaned closer, lightly blowing some air against his neck, letting your lips almost touch the skin beneath his ear. Then you looked him in the eye and asked in your normal voice, devoid of any traces of seduction or flirtation.

- Are you sick in the head?

- Are you? – Joel asked, as his fingers pulled your thighs further apart where you were sitting. – I haven’t even touched you and I can smell your wet cunt from here. You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.

- Next time I’ll take that knife and cut your dick off, - your eyes glowed and you were breathing just as heavily, as you threatened. – Let’s see how hard you’ll get with no dick.

- That’s it, baby, keep talking dirty to me, - Joel placed another wet kiss on the side of your neck, his teeth slightly nicking your skin. – God the sex is gonna be amazing once you stop being a brat.

His nose brushed against your neck as he drew in a quick breath. And then he just stepped back as if nothing had happened and turned to clean up your mess.

While picking up the bigger pieces of glass, he glanced back to you where you were still sitting on the table.

- There is this ugly painting in the living room that I always disliked, - he motioned towards the door to the rest of the house. – Why don’t you use that anger of yours and destroy that piece of shit?

You groaned and jumped down from the table, admitting your defeat, and left to explore the rest of the place.

That’s how things went on for about three days. You hadn’t left the house and the only people you saw were Joel, his brother and sister-in-law, no doubt coming to check if you hadn’t hanged your mind about leaving.

You still hadn’t given up on your plan to make Joel’s life miserable but somehow your plan backfired every time.

Every evening you would change into your pajamas and then, while Joel was showering, left to sleep on the couch in the living room, hoping that he would be too tired to argue with you. And every evening, with no exceptions, he came into the living room, picked you up and brought you back to his room, threatening to tie you to the bed if you left again.

Every evening you would build a fort of pillows between the two of you in the bed to avoid accidentally touching him. And every morning you woke up with his chest pressed against your back and his arms like vices around you, his face buried in your hair.

Even destroying his things had backfired. When you cut up some of his clothes and used them to light up the fireplace, after the initial laughter and congrats on your originality, he had brought the clothes Maria had given to you and burnt them too, leaving you with no clothes to change into.

- When is Maria coming over? – you asked, walking into the kitchen in one of his shirts that was long enough to reach the middle of your thighs.

Joel stopped cooking to look back at you. After he had taken his revenge on your clothes, you were forced to wear his, as you didn’t have anything else as of right now. Safe to say, he was enjoying this much more than you were.

His eyes greedily sucked in your half-naked form.

- Not for a few days, baby, - he turned back towards the stove after he had gotten his fill. – She left yesterday to run some errands.

You huffed out a breath. You wanted to stomp your foot on the ground like a child.

- Get me some new clothes, Joel! – you demanded.

He carefully placed the spatula on the counter and turned towards you. After a minute of consideration, he shook his head.

- No, I’m quite enjoying seeing you in my clothes, - he decided and went back to cooking. – Besides, I thought we had enough to burn.

You wanted to pull out your hair.

- I need some new clothes, - you insisted. – And some new underwear, - you added more quietly. – Come, Joel, you promised you’d take care of me! – last sentence sounded like a whine.

That got his attention.

He turned back towards you and crossed his arms.

- What will you give me for that?

You raised an eyebrow.

How about I only shoot you in the leg when I leave and let you survive? That’s good enough?

- What do you want? – you took a step closer.

- I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, - Joel’s voice was raspy and his hands seemed to be lightly trembling, as you placed your palm against his rapidly beating heart.

- How much worth is my kiss? – you asked, standing up on your toes to get closer to him. – Can I get some new clothes for that?

If something was cooking in the pan behind Joel’s back, it was probably already burnt.

Joel looked at you with clouded eyes. For just a second, you let doubt creep into your mind. Would he really go for it?

- Fine, - he accepted. – You get your clothes, I get my kiss.

Your smiled. Genuinely. Maybe for the first in months.

- Thank you, - your smile turned mocking. – And here’s your kiss, - you grasped his chin in between your fingers, turned his face to the side and placed an innocent kiss on his cheek. – Pleasure doing business with you.

Then you turned on your heel to leave. His hand grabbed your elbow, refusing you.

- The fuck you think you’re doing? – he looked almost bewildered. – That’s not a kiss.

You peeled open his fingers and backed away.

- It is in my book. Should’ve specified what kiss you wanted, Joel, - you smirked. – Will you be a dear and get me some khaki pants if they have any? Thanks.

In day five, Maria had come back and suggested that Joel brought you to the movie night. You had agreed so enthusiastically that Joel objecting would’ve raised suspicions so he was forced to accept as well. He probably was suspecting for you to run.

You had no such plan.

In order for this game to work, he had to be properly lulled into thinking you had abandoned all wishes to leave. Which meant – you couldn’t just run first chance you got. That would only make him keep up his guard more.

That didn’t mean you wouldn’t keep Joel on his toes. So that evening, when both of you had arrived to an already full room of people, you had quickly chosen a seat where there were people already sitting on both sides of you. Joel had no choice but to sit in front of you.

That had its pros and cons. For one, he couldn’t keep such a close eye on you and constantly turning around to make sure you were still there would look weird. Cons? At some point he had developed a different tactic, reaching his arm back in the dark, wrapping his fingers firmly around your ankle and pulling you a bit closer to him. That made you drag your chair closer to where he was sitting if you didn’t want to slouch and not be able to see the screen.

But was there really any point in watching the screen when all you could feel was his fingers constantly drawing figures on your skin?

After around the half-hour mark, you had already gotten bored when you suddenly felt a hand on your thigh. You immediately stiffened and Joel, whose hand was still wrapped around your ankle, sat up as well. Even if he did turn to look at you, the room was so dark that he wouldn’t have been able to see anything.

When you felt the hand on your thigh starting to creep up, you harshly grabbed the stranger’s wrist and twisted it, earning you a pained groan. That only lasted for a moment though because the man on your right leaned closer and whispered:

- Don’t cause a scene, babygirl, - even his voice felt disgusting in your ear. – Nobody’s gonna believe the newbie anyway.

You felt bile rise in your throat.

Joel’s fingers had stopped drawing circles on your skin. In fact, he had removed his hand altogether.

Dammit.

You gulped and quietly stood up. You didn’t want to stay here. Staying here would mean being harassed even more. Even though it was already late, there were still people outside who hadn’t come to the movie night.

Safety in numbers.

Surely somebody would step in if they saw you getting harassed out in the open, right?

Here’s to hoping...

The cold evening air hit you as soon as you stepped outside. Disgust had made you forget your whole plan about lulling Joel into safety. Right now you couldn’t care less if he thought you had ran...

There were people outside, you had been right. The problem was – they were far too few and far too distant. Recognizing Tommy in distance, you had already taken a step forward when somebody yanked you back by your hair and pushed your back against the wall hard.

Your breath left your body when your eyes were met with those of man in his early thirties. He looked young. Definitely younger than Joel. His hand wrapped itself around your throat, keeping you pinned against the wall. Whenever Joel did this, he wouldn’t cut your air off, just firmly keeping you still. This asshole had no problem cutting your airways.

- What a nice pet project Miller’s got himself, - the asshole tutted. – Everybody’s afraid to even utter your name here, thinking Joel’s gonna carve their eyes out in their sleep.

Your fingers desperately tried to peel off his hand from your throat.

- But I know better, - he didn’t let up. – You’re just some slut that he found. Joel’s a changed man now, - the asshole said the last words mockingly. – That’s what we’re all been told. And let me tell you, he wouldn’t dirty up his hands over some bitch he just met.

- Y/N? – you could’ve sworn somebody was calling your name but you also were in early stages losing consciousness so you couldn’t be sure.

Your attacker backed away, and you realized he had heard it too. Then he suddenly leaned closer and whispered:

- Utter a word to Miller about this and I’ll end your pathetic life, - he lightly slapped your cheek. – Joel’s going away tomorrow and you’ll have nobody to protect you. So be nice if you want me to be nice.

Joel was going away tomorrow? There was no doubt he wasn’t planning on taking you with.

Would he, though? If you asked?

Somehow spending the day with Joel seemed better than whatever this asshole had in mind.

When Joel rounded the corner, his eyes immediately searched for yours. You looked down. So instead he looked the man next to you up and down.

- Dan.

- Joel, - the Dan, apparently, responded. – I’m just introducing myself to your...? Are you his ward or something? – he laughed as he asked you.

- She’s my wife, - Joel responded in your place.

You definitely weren’t going to correct Joel in front of this fool.

Dan nodded. Then he extended his hand for you to shake.

- Nice to meet you, Joel’s wife, - he was still smiling that disgusting smile of his.

When you didn’t move to take his hand, he chuckled and turned to leave. Joel didn’t move either and so the boy was forced to squeeze himself through the small opening that led back to the porch.

When he had left, you finally met Joel’s gaze.

- Something you want to tell me? – he didn’t sound jealous or anything.

He sounded calm. Eerily so.

Joel’s gonna be gone tomorrow. And you’ll be stuck here with the creepy asshole. Even if you could tell Joel and even if he would do something about it, these people didn’t seem like they allowed their own to be killed. So, at best, he gets a beating. And then he’s gonna be even angrier.

And Joel can’t protect you forever.

And you can’t even aim well enough to shoot someone.

And-

- Sweetheart? – Joel’s voice brought you back. – Did he really just wanted to introduce himself?

You didn’t trust your voice so you just nodded.

For a second, Joel looked disappointed.

Looking back, you had thought it was because he was probably craving to take his frustrations somewhere. On someone.

Definitely nothing more.

- Wanna go back? – he offered.

You shook your head. That’s the last place you wanted to be at.

- I’m tired, - you tried to sound as bitchy as you had sounded this morning but it came out rather empty. – I’d rather go to sleep.

The house had never been this quiet. You were the one who usually started fights and threw tantrums and, because you did none of that this evening, nobody was screaming and nothing got destroyed.

Joel probably was thanking every god for some peace and quiet.

You quietly showered, changed into his t-shirt and were already sleeping when he had returned to the bedroom.

You slept like knocked out and surprised discovered that you had slept in. You were a light sleeper so on most days you would wake up even just by Joel placing a kiss on your neck first thing in the morning. Today, however, you woke up when sun had blinded you and forced you to roll over just to discover Joel already gone.

You had never been this unwilling to leave his house. His room. Even his bed. Even though you had no plans to run, you had to get up and get yourself among people. Somewhere with lots and lots of people.

Only then you noticed a piece of paper being left on the nightstand for you.

The guards are instructed to not let you out. If you try, they will restrain you. And then I’ll restrain you. So don’t waste your energy trying.

Be a good girl and I’ll bring back a gift for you.

You crumbled the paper.

The only gift you wanted was to be left alone.

You showered and ate in an extra short time, too afraid for certain someone to show up at your house. When you left Joel’s place, you almost ran where you knew Maria would be. Just to be in close proximity of anyone, really.

After half an hour of nervously flicking eyes towards the door while trying to plant some tomatoes in the greenhouse, you had actually let your guard down a little and started to join in the conversation.

- Joel told us you were in a neighboring QZ, - Maria asked. – What was your job there?

Back in real world – before this whole thing with the virus went down – you had been a full-time student. QZ didn’t allowed people your age to continue studies in anything, so you had to find something you were good at.

- I was mostly assisting doctors, - you threw out and then tried to shift your voice from nervous to careless and cheerful. – Hey, have you seen Dan anywhere? We met yesterday and-

- He left with Joel and Tommy this morning, - one of the other women explained. – One of their crew had gotten sick so they needed a replacement.

You had never relaxed so quickly. He wasn’t here. Dan was not here. You were safe.

Motivated by the sudden freedom and safety, you had spent most of the day in the greenhouse. You liked it. Maybe even more than being in the infirmary. When Maria left to greet Tommy, you had almost went with her, deciding against it at the last minute.

Greeting Joel would possibly make him think you’re easing into this life and thus would help your plan to dip but seeing Dan might make you throw up. So instead you stayed behind in the peace and comfort of the greenhouse.

That was until a loud scream pierced the air. Your hands slightly shook, as you stepped outside.

There, laid on the ground, was a body that the group had brought in from outside. The body – you couldn’t assign the word ‘person’ to the atrocity that was laid before you – was missing one of its legs and a good chunk of his left arm. There were bites from the infected all over him. His throat was littered in what looked like bites too, except it also looked like he was missing his vocal cords that seemed to be ripped clean out.

And then there was a bullet right between Dan’s eyes.

- Jesus, what happened? – Maria asked Tommy.

- Got himself bitten, - her husband explained. – Decided to show off by getting a close-shot. Wasn’t quick enough to pull the trigger.

Maria nodded. Probably this wasn’t as rare as you had thought. It was probably in human nature to get cocky.

- Yeah, at least he didn’t suffer, - Tommy threw a blanket on top of the body, hiding it from the view. – Too much. Thankfully, Joel was there to end his misery.

At the mention of Joel, your eyes searched for him. When you came up empty, you felt almost disappointed before feeling his arm sneak around your waist. He pulled you back by his hand on your stomach until you were firmly pressed against him. When he buried his face in your hair, you felt him breathe in your scent.

- How merciful of me to let him die, - Joel whispered with his lips ghosting over your hair. – Too bad he had to get his leg ripped off and throat ripped out before I could get to him to end his life. What a pathetic death, don’t you think?

You couldn’t muster the courage to do anything other than breathe in and out. Then he rested his chin on top of your head, both of you eyes still glued to the dead person in front of you.

- Almost as pathetic as his life.

Then he simply stepped back and casually throwing out “see you at home, honey”, left.

That evening you tried to keep yourself busy doing everything and anything possible before you went back home. But at some point Maria had to throw you out, saying she can’t allow you to fall asleep in the greenhouse. So when you finally returned, it was around eleven in the evening. Well past dinner and well past your usual bedtime.

The house was quiet. When you turned on the light in the kitchen and Joel was still nowhere to be found, shivers ran through your body. As usual, you felt him before you saw him. He was casually sitting on the sofa and reading one of what looked like books you had on you when he had kidnapped you. It was a mix between history and fantasy. You weren’t a fan but reading materials were hard to come by so you couldn’t be picky.

- Did you let him get infected or did he do that on his own? – you weren’t sure why you were even asking.

- Does it matter? – Joel casually skipped a page.

No, not really.

- Kinda, - you confessed.

Maybe a little. Understanding how far Joel would go might help you weaponize the people here. If he wasn’t ready to kill someone just because, you might be able to use other people as an emotional shield to blackmail him and make him let you go.

- Okay, - he closed the book. – Then no. He didn’t get infected on his own. He was a coward. So why would he ever attempt a close-shot?

You nodded. You felt no remorse for Dan’s death. Why should you? He was a despicable human being.

- Then how did-

- I gave him a gun with no bullets. The moron never even checked. All he could do was beg for mercy when he came across one of the infected.

When Joel stood up, you took a step back. At this point, it was a choreographed dance for the two of you. Joel tilted his head and regarded your stiff posture with a small smile.

- So then yesterday... when he went over, you-

- I heard everything, yes, - Joel nodded. – Would’ve preferred to hear it from you but beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.

- How chivalrous of you, - you gave him a lopsided mocking smile. – What a gentleman, huh?

- Let’s not pretend that the thought of me killing for you doesn’t turn you on, baby, - Joel placed his hand around your throat and used it to pull you closer. – I think we both know you would’ve loved to watch that creep die. Even better, you probably wouldn’t even object if I demanded you pay for his death with your body, right?

You felt a tingling sensation spread throughout your body from where his hand had grabbed you by the neck.

This doesn’t mean anything, you tried convincing yourself. This is just a physiological reaction to close proximity to an attractive man and his words, nothing more.

And you knew that was a lie as soon as you thought of it.

- And are you? – you challenged. – Are you demanding a payment?

He released your neck and you slumped against the wall.

- I don’t want a pity fuck from you.

- What about a thank you fuck? Would your highness accept that?

- My highness would accept anything, and you know it, - Joel motioned towards the bedroom. – If you want to show me your gratitude, you could at least get yourself off and let me watch. There’s no point in both of us suffering and trying to-

- I’m not suffering, - you argued. – I couldn’t care less if you go insane from staying celibate. You could just let me go and find someone who actually wants to fuck you. But suit yourself, I guess.

Joel hooked his fingers on the belt of your pants and slowly and torturously pulled you away from the wall closer to him.

- I guess we’re both staying celibate then, sweetheart, - he unhooked your belt, - because if I find out you let some other guy even touch you, I’ll dig them a nice deep grave right next to Dan’s. With a cross and everything.

He unbuttoned your pants and slid his hand inside your panties. Exactly no one was surprised when he found you hot and wet.

- Feel free to tell me to stop at any point, baby, - Joel encouraged with a smile. – You don’t need this, do you? I’m just delusional, right?

You whimpered and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, fully intending to withdraw his hand. Then his other hand wrapped around your wrist, keeping it firmly placed there.

- No, no, no, - he tsked. – Ask for what you want like a big girl. You want to cum? Have you earned the right to cum? Beg me for it.

He skillfully slid two fingers into your wet cunt, while keeping his thumb on your clit. Drawing circles painfully, torturously slowly.

- Come on, where’s that sharp tongue of yours, huh? – Joel’s eyes glistened in amusement, keeping the stimulation on your clit as light as he possibly could. – Need some help there, baby?

You shook your head in a petty refusal to give in. If he let you cum, that would mean that even after all the mocking about him not being able to stay celibate, you would be the one proven to not be able to withstand celibacy.

- No? – he tutted, as he leaned closer to your ear. – Just imagine how difficult it will be for you to take me if you’re a shaking mess from just two of my fingers.

A whimper left your lips and you rested your head against his shoulder. Drawing in a quick breath, you were almost on the edge.

Just few seconds more and-

- Does that feel good? – he asked.

All you could do was nod.

- Take a deep breath and give me a proper answer, - Joel urged you.

Now or never, your clouded, deprived mind decided.

- This is gonna feel even better, - you whispered in his ear and dug the needle into the side of his neck.

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you pulled out his hand from your panties. And, just as a gift to celebrate a proper goodbye, you slid his index and middle fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. Tasting yourself. Then you let go of his hand and watched him fall to his knees in front of you.

You pulled out a needle that contained a very, very light dosage of the tranquilizer that was usually used on horses. The very same that you had stolen this afternoon from the cupboard that contained medicine in the infirmary.

It wouldn’t kill him but the hangover’s gonna be a bitch when he’ll wake up.

- You kidnapped me but you also killed a creep for me so – let’s call it even, sweetheart, - you mocked, using his own nickname.

Joel’s hand grasped yours. You expected some swearing... maybe threats... something... Instead, his lips pulled into a smug smile, as he slowly lost all consciousness.

- You better pray I’m merciful when I catch you, - he promised darkly. – There’s not one place in this entire world where I wouldn’t be able to find you. And when I do, you’ll pay for this.

He lost consciousness shortly after.

- We’ll see about that.

You squirmed under the intense gaze of one of your companions. The man was about your age and one of the leaders of the group that had captured yours. He looked shady at best and rapey at worst. You had no idea what you could possibly do to avoid his attention and your mind subconsciously jumped to the worst case scenario that could occur if his undivided attention and intention would not stray. Your hands trembled as your thoughts raced through your options.

Would it be worst or better if you complied? Would it be quicker or slower? More or less painful?

It was pretty clear what people paid with post-apocalypse, and it was not with money. Some paid with weapons, and yours was taken away by your captors. Some paid with food, which was also taken away and which you didn’t have lots of to begin with.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You fought tears prickling your eyes and mentally berated yourself for not staying in the QZ.

Your hands were tied in front of you and with a thick rope, instead of handcuffs or metal substitution that was used for some of your group-mates. Apparently, you didn’t pose enough of a threat for them to use cuffs on you. And it felt weirdly insulting.

One of the older men of your captors stepped in front of your small group. He pointed his rifle to a man of your group, motioning for him to get up. When he didn’t comply or even move, you saw a muscle tick in your captor’s jaw, as he pressed the weapon against the older man’s forehead and pressed the trigger.

You gulped, as you watched a person slump against the ground in front of you. Blood pooled out of his head and people around him screamed out for mercy, silently begged for quick death or cried softly.

Next gunshot was so unexpected that you jumped a little, when a little boy to your right ended up shot between his eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut to avoid accidentally looking at the child.

And even with your eyes shut, you could feel the weapon being turned towards you.

“Quick death is better than anything else this world has to offer.”

- Not her, - you shuddered, as the slimy guy in the back spoke up. – She can be useful for a while.

You really wished the leader of the group would consider you an additional and unnecessary mouth to feed but then the person to your left crumbled against the ground and your fate was sealed.

When you opened your eyes, every person you had travelled with was dead. Death didn’t scare you nor did it surprise you – post-apocalypse had made everyone emotionally stunted and numb and you hadn’t known these people prior to your journey. But they had still treated you better than most of the people you had met.

The disgusting man in back looked you over, smiled, took a step towards you and... crumbled to the ground. Your eyes widened.

There was a bullet wound right between his eyes. His eyes were still very much so wide open.

The leader zeroed in on you. He quickly approached you and pulled you up by your arm.

- Was she bait? – someone behind his back asked.

You shook your head, suddenly realizing two very important things. One – you were out in the open with somebody who just took out some of the best armed soldiers without them even suspecting anything which meant whoever this was – they were very, very dangerous. Two – in this entire world you had no friends left which meant one thing and one thing for sure – whoever was killing your captors, was not doing it out of the goodness of their heart.

Maybe for their supplies?

Their weapons?

Or maybe-

A bullet went straight through the group leader’s head, making him go down right against you, taking you to the ground as well. The bullet wound from his head sprayed you with blood. You could feel blood on your face, taste it in your mouth, feel it drip down your hair...

- Shiiiiit, - Tommy watched through his binoculars. – Did you get her too?

Joel shook his head.

He never missed and he certainly didn’t shoot someone he didn’t intend to.

Once Joel finished off the rest of the soldiers, he swung the rifle over his shoulder and took the binoculars from his brother.

- Are we offering her to stay in Jackson or are we just leaving her here?

Blood coated you all over. The protective side of Joel wanted to hug you, wipe blood, tears and sweat from your face and promise that you have nothing and no one to be afraid of. He would make sure of it. The other side of him – the one he wasn’t aware of up until this moment – primal and possessive – demanded that he marched over to where you were laying on the ground, picked you up and fucked you right there in the blood of the scum that laid their hands on you. This side demanded that he claimed his prize. He had saved you life, so now it belonged to him.

He pushed both parts away and tried to imagine what if you had been someone he didn’t have such a primitive reaction to. What if you were any other woman in distress? What if you were a child survivor?

- I’m going to offer her a chance to come with us, - Joel decided. – Whatever she decides, goes.

Tommy nodded, seemingly deeming it a good idea.

- I think we should try to convince her to stay, though, - Joel added, meeting his brother’s eyes.

When Tommy offered nothing, for a moment Joel thought he had slipped up and told on himself, so he added:

- She’s a woman, maybe wounded, definitely alone, - he shrugged, as if he didn’t care either way. – It would be in her best interest to live in a town with, you know, walls and houses. Water. Food.

Tommy, seemingly okay with that, got up and started heading downhill towards you but Joel’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

- Let me, - he offered.

His brother looked a bit weirded out. Whenever he and his brother were out on any rescue missions together, Joel put in extra effort to not have to deal with any survivors and always headed straight back home.

- Are you sure? – Tommy looked over his bloody dirty clothes and disheveled hair. – You can be kinda... blunt.

Joel just chuckled and decided on using the only card that usually got his brother off his back.

- I think your pregnant wife might appreciate that I’m letting you off sooner...

Tommy’s eyes softened, as they usually did whenever his wife and unborn child were mentioned. He nodded and picked up their shit before throwing his brother one last glance.

- At least try to be empathetic.

Your senses after the whole shoot-out were a bit all over the place. You couldn’t focus your eyes enough to notice how bloody your own hands were but you could very clearly taste the metallic blood on your tongue. You could smell the blood on your neck and in your hair but your hearing seemed to catch up only on your rapid heartbeat.

That was exactly why you hadn’t heard the heavy approaching footsteps. That was why, when a large hand landed on your shoulder, you – not knowing if it was that of a friend or an enemy – pulled your fist back and swung as hard as you could.

The man before you easy caught your wrist. His warm palm wrapped around it and he pulled you towards him. Still very much so in the state of panic, you allowed him to pull you into a hug and rested your head against his chest. Your breaths were erratic, as you clung to the only person who didn’t immediately tried to kill you off.

One hand slowly stroked through your messy hair, as the other drew circles on your back, trying to calm you down.

He smelled nice, you decided, after recognizing the smell of soap.

Nobody smelled like soap anymore. Not in this hellhole.

That made you double-take in the man before you. Once your breathing had somewhat stabilized, you pulled back. The man let you, while still keeping an arm on your bicep to most likely not let you fall in case you fainted.

- Who the fuck are you? – sounded a bit rude but you were too emotionally drained to care.

- I’m... – he looked at the bodies at your feet. – I’m from a nearby town. My name’s Joel.

You looked down too. He didn’t seem dressed similarly to the dead men and sure as hell didn’t look like he crawled out of a sewer.

- Are you with these guys? – you gestured towards the dead people.

He shook his head, and you exhaled in relief.

Now, were you sure he wasn’t just lying? He didn’t seem to be but wouldn’t be the first time you hadn’t caught up to a lie. But he wasn’t trying to hit you or shoot you, or rape you and that would have to do. For now.

- I’m the one who killed them, - that got your attention.

When you didn’t move a muscle – or breathe, for that matter, - he took a step towards you but this time you immediately took one back. His head slightly tilted to the side, as he let go of your arm. You didn’t dare to run or try to reach any of the weapons that belonged to your captors. You were acting as if you had come across a wounded but still stronger-than-you animal.

- That’s one hell of a skill for a citizen of a nearby town to have, - you threw out, trying to steady your voice so it doesn’t tremble.

- Then it’s a good thing, I guess, that I was trying to save you and not kill you, sweetheart, - he said in a low voice, meant to put you at ease.

For a moment, nobody spoke. Nobody moved.

He was first to break eye contact and brushed his hand over his face, as if dealing with this bloody scared girl was irritating him.

- Jackson – the town I’m from – is few miles from here. You can wash off the blood, get some clean clothes, eat and, you know, not freeze to death, - he gestured towards the hills and leaned down to pick up the rifle of the dead leader of the scavangers. - Let’s go.

He turned to leave, assuming you would just follow a stranger as some sort of a child.

When you didn’t move from your spot, your arms still numbly hanging by your sides, he threw a look over his shoulder and stopped. He just looked at you for a second and then strode towards you once again.

This time when you took a step back, he didn’t care and took an additional step to end up right in front of you.

This close together, you had to tilt your head back to look him in the face. When he didn’t say a word, you realized he was probably waiting for an explanation.

You cleared your throat, trying to not sound tired and empty.

- I don’t know you, - was all you said.

When all the reaction you got was a tilted eyebrow, you rolled your eyes and tried to step back again to put some distance between you two. His hand shot out and he pulled you back by your bicep to where you stood. This time the touch seemed more than just making sure you could stand. It seemed almost possessive.

- You are a stranger and I’m not going anywhere with you, - you sounded like a kidnapped child who had to explain the most essential survival instinct.

He smirked, looked down at you.

- A stranger, huh? – his fingers on your arm didn’t let go. – Didn’t stop you from clinging to me just mere seconds ago...

Once he had said the words out loud, only then Joel realized how much he liked the idea of you seeing him as your savior. Your protector. Provider. How much he liked the thought of you clinging to him any time you were scared, knowing he was the one to stop anybody from harming you.

You looked into his darkened eyes – eyes that now seemed to vaguely remind you that, above all, he was still a man and stronger than you at that.

In another life, had you met him at a bar, you probably would’ve been tipsy and tried to hit on him. Then he would have to turn you down because he probably would say something along the lines of “I could be your father, sweetheart”. But essentially it would be because your type were older dominant men and he would probably be married to an age-appropriate woman. And, after embarrassing yourself, you would check him out one last time before parting ways and never seeing each other again.

He was literally a textbook version of your type. Every single feature you had ever found attractive in a man.

But, if anything, apocalypse had taught you to never live this life by the rules and instincts of your previous one.

- How do I know that you’re not just taking me somewhere to kill and dismember me?

“Why not – give him some ideas for your death,” you mentally berated yourself.

He smiled patronizingly, as if dealing with an annoying child.

- If I was able to take them all out from there, - he motioned towards some trees on a hill. – why take you anywhere? I could just kill and dismember you right here, - he laughed.

Even though you didn’t want to admit it, what he was saying was believable. There was no one else – alive – left here and nowhere to run and hide – not that you were in any condition to be successful at attempting that. He could just shoot you and be done with you.

Seeing some initial understanding flash in your eyes, Joel let go of your arm and turned to leave, again:

- Shall we?

And, again, you didn’t move.

When he turned towards you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for you to explain your next issue, you decided to take the diplomatic route.

You approached him and took his clean, large palm into both of your much smaller, much bloodier hands.

- Thank you, - you felt every emotion you had had for the last few days rush out all at once. – Thank you so much for not letting them kill me, Joel, - tears prickled your eyes. – They said they were gonna give us to some sort of a cannibal cult or something. And then there was this one guy, he was looking at me all the time so I thought that he was gonna...

Joel’s arms circled around you and pulled you against his chest. This was a real hug – not the one before where he was trying to make you breathe again. You stood up on your toes, arms wrapped around his neck, as you rested your chin on his shoulder. After you mustered the strength to calm down and speak clearly, you said:

- What I meant to say was – thank you for saving me but I’m not coming to your town, - you softly explained. – Thanks for the offer though.

For a moment, Joel didn’t move or breathe. His thoughts raced hundred miles per hour, trying to understand your words. His arms slowly loosened around you, and he stepped back to look at you.

You were smiling, just a small smile out of gratitude, but it made his heart both stop and somehow pick up speed.

These three days of following you and your captured group had made him feel such a surge of protectiveness, seeing you struggling to accept your situation. The thought of bringing you back to Jackson – which was something he never offered when it came to new people – and it made him feel as if you were controlling him from afar. You didn’t even know him and you were still slowly but steadily wrapping him around your little finger, making him come up with plans how to protect you.

- It’s not safe for you out there, sweetheart, - he tried to reason. – You’re alone and don’t seem to know how to use a weapon well. How are you going to survive?

He seemed to understand. He was doing the thing that people did where they knew someone was leaving but were still asking questions just to let someone know they cared. The soft look in his eyes made you let your guard down just a little. But it was enough for you to make a grave mistake.

- Well, living’s overrated anyway, isn’t it? – you tried to joke.

His eyes darkened, and your smile dropped. When he started to look downright angry, you reached to jokingly punch your fist against his shoulder.

- I was joking, - your laughed under your breath, - Jesus...

But all Joel could see before his eyes was red. You, laying somewhere, coated in blood. This time, your own. Would it be a wild animal? Another group of armed soldiers? Maybe you would just eventually starve?

Tommy and Maria would let you go the minute you would confess that Joel had brought you back against your will. They would not keep a prisoner and someone who did not wish to be there. And he would be forced to watch you leave. He would be forced back into square one.

Once you turned your back on him and searched the ground for anything you could take for yourself, Joel made up his mind.

You felt his hand wrap around the front of your neck, as he roughly yanked you back against his chest. Out of sheer surprise, both your hands shot up to peel his hand from your neck.

When the initial terror had subsided, you realized he wasn’t trying to strangle or choke you. His fingers expertly found a spot on your neck a bit below your left ear, and you felt him put pressure against it. You started to feel light-headed but it was too late for you to remember that certain spots in your neck could be used to make a person lose consciousness.

His other arm wrapped tightly around your middle, as your vision had started to cloud.

With black spots dancing before your eyes, all you could focus on was his warm breath against the back of your neck.

- This is for the better, sweetheart, - he promised and placed a light kiss on the small hairs on the back of the neck. – You’ll see.

That evening, when Joel returned to Jackson later than expected, Tommy greeted him at the gates.

- Where have you been? – his brother looked and sounded worried. – Where’s the girl?

- She refused to come here so I offered to walk her down all the way to the main road, - Joel purposefully avoided looking his brother in the eye, as he took off his rifle. – She’s heading back to the closest QZ.

For just few seconds, Tommy looked suspicious. He had spent three days, trailing around the scavangers and watching Joel get progressively more protective over you.

Had he killed you?

That was the only option Tommy considered and it didn’t seem possible. What would he gain from killing you?

Tommy shook his head and clasped his brother’s shoulder.

- Maybe for the best, - he offered. – Can’t save everyone.

Joel nodded and continued to dissect the few items he had taken from the dead scavangers.

Had Tommy been less tired and less excited to just see his brother alive and well, he would’ve noticed his brother’s gloves and warm jacket gone. The backpack that was usually given to people who went outside the town limits and was usually filled with food and some essentials, was gone too.

You opened your eyes, hearing the deadbolt being unlocked from outside. You didn’t rush towards the door as you had done the first few times Joel had returned. You had thought that having the element of surprise and trying to catch him off guard him would make at least a small difference. It didn’t. It hasn’t. Every time you had ended up on the floor with him restraining both your hands with one of his, while immobilizing your legs with his thighs.

“You’re getting better at this,” he praised you, and that left you even more furious. “Another few times of you ending up under me and we might just end up with me under you.”

After the initial shock had passed and you had gained back some strength – thanks to the food Joel brought and keeps bringing over which you still refuse to thank him for – and after you had realized that crying and pleading with him to let you go won’t work, you adapted a new tactic. Trying to scratch his eyes out every chance you got.

You have been living in this little cottage for about a week now. It was cozy and in any other circumstance could be considered something you had once wished to live in. It had an open-floor and with stairs that led to somewhat of a second floor with one room that only had a railing around it and no walls so it could be seen from the first floor.

This is where you had woken up. The way Joel had explained it – since you refused to come back to Jackson as a “civilized” person, you got to live here. With him.

Living was a bit too flashy of a word for it. You couldn’t leave. Every night when Joel begrudgingly went back to Jackson (as he put it, his brother would get suspicious if he stopped going home all together), you were locked inside this cozy little prison. Prison that you realized after many unfruitful leaving attempts was more secure than any QZ you had been a part of.

An old kitchen knife that you had tugged inside your sleeve bit into your skin. In order for this to work, you would have to get physically close enough to Joel. The problem was – that kind of behavior would probably be suspicious to him, as usually you tried to keep as much distance between the two of you as possible.

When he opened the door with his shoulder, you realized that you had missed a really good escape opportunity. Both his hands were full of what looked like boxes of food and clothes. When he kicked the door closed, you greedily watched the deadbolt with the lock unused, as your captor went over to the small kitchen portion of the house to put down the food. Subconsciously, you felt your tongue swipe over your lower lip, eyes darting between Joel and the door.

- I have to say, I’m disappointed, - he chuckled. – All this way from Jackson, I was really looking forward having you trashing and squirming underneath me.

You didn’t move from where you sat in an armchair in the middle of the room. When your eyes once again darted to the door, Joel caught it. He leaned against the stove and crossed his arms over his chest. With a slight turn of his head, he gestured towards the unlocked door.

- Wanna try? – he patronized you, smiling. – I mean, the last time you got out, I caught you before you had a chance to step outside the gates. Granted, you were malnourished and weak, and couldn’t pick up any speed...

Your eyes didn’t leave the door. How come freedom was this close and this far at the same time?

Joel lazily walked towards you but took the longer route by circling around the side of the kitchen island, giving you, like, two second head-start.

When he finally reached you, you looked up to find him staring down at you. His fingers incredibly gently pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, before he bent down so you were both more or less at an eye level.

- Here’s an idea, - he suggested, - I’ll let you have a fifteen second head-start, an unlocked door and I’ll even throw in permission to use that blunt kitchen knife you got on you.

You tried not to flinch by how little of privacy you had from him.

- In return, if you make it outside the gates, I’ll-

- Let me go? – you asked.

He laughed and shook his head. You deflated. And you hated that just for a moment there had been a small hope in your heart that he might have gotten bored of taking care of you here. That he had gotten sick of you.

- No, - he chuckled as if you had tried to make jokes. – Make it outside the gates and I’ll reward you.

You must’ve looked like you genuinely considered this deal because Joel looked a bit surprised but mostly amused.

He circled the armchair, pushed his boot between your much smaller ones and roughly kicked your left boot to the side, so he could comfortably stand between your legs. Once he placed both his hands on the armrests on either side of you, he leaned down. Your lips were just few inches apart and it had gotten really hard to keep eye contact. Or breathe, for that matter.

- And what’s the reward? – did that hoarse voice really belonged to you?

You eyes kept darting from his eyes to his lips.

- I was thinking head.

It took a second for your lust-clouded brain to catch up. Once it did, your accusing eyes shot up to meet his amused ones.

- What?

- I’ve seen you looking at my arms. My hands. Me. I know you find me attractive, - he said. – And I think we both know that it’s very much reciprocated.

You were so mad you could almost feel fumes coming from your ears. You roughly placed both your hands on his chest and pushed him back which made him stumble back just a little. You must’ve looked quite shocked because he softly laughed and backed up.

- Have you lost your mind? – you raised your voice. – What makes you think that I would ever agree to any sexual favor? You’re keeping me here against my will - I could never find you attractive!

Joel turned his back on you and went to lock the door. When that was done, he turned back towards you and smiled:

- I would make sure it’s very, very good for you, - his gaze slowly slid over you from head to toe. – You won’t be complaining nearly as much when you’re fucked out of your mind and cannot string a sentence together.

Even though you weren’t naive or inexperienced by any means, his crude words left your mouth wide open.

Did he think you were the type of person to have sex with your kidnapper?

For the first time ever, you had no words. You closed your mouth and opened it again. Then closed again. You wanted to take the old lamp on the nightstand and smash it against his head.

- The fuck do you... – you started. – What the...? Are you out of your mind?

Joel shrugged as if he didn’t care either way and turned towards the kitchen to start on dinner.

Your hand grabbed the lamp, and you threw in his direction without trying to hit anything or anyone in particular.

The lamp smashed against the kitchen wall and broke apart all over the stove and the floor.

You marched over to where Joel looked down at the broken lamp. Your hand reached out, you grabbed his shoulder and harshly turned him to face you.

- You will never ever touch me, - you spoke through your teeth. – And I will never ever agree to any deals with you. You’re disgusting to me.

Before you had a chance to step back, Joel’s hand shot out and grabbed your chin. He tilted your head back, pulled you against him and pressed his lips against yours.

In any other situation this type of kiss would be considered chaste. Virginal. A peck, really. No tongue. But this was Joel and, no matter how much you hated him for locking you up, he hadn’t hit you, he fed you and clothed you and in your fucked-up mind, that had experienced so much cruelty in this new world, he was very much still attractive both physically and emotionally.

Still, you gathered all of your strength and, placing your palms against his chest, tried to push him back. He didn’t budge an inch. Even more so, he pressed his hand on top of yours, as to make sure they stayed firmly pressed against his chest.

You turned your face to the side, roughly ending the kiss. He pressed his forehead against your temple and exhaled heavily.

- You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart, - he murmured. – The things I wanna do to you...

The kiss left your light-headed. And you hated yourself for it.

This was your captor. All you should feel for him should be pure hatred. Anger. Disappointment in the man who once had saved you just to lock you up in this place as if you were his pet. Who had taken control over every single decision in your life. He chose what you ate. What you wore. What you read. It was deeply disturbing. But not nearly as disturbing as the fact that, despite all of this, you still had sexual dreams involving him almost every night. Where he bent you over the spotless kitchen counter and demanded that you paid for all the trouble you’ve been costed him. Insisting that you repaid him for all the food, clothes and shelter he’s provided for you. Every night you went to bed angry and woke up dripping wet. And twice as angry.

- What would it take for you to let me go? – you asked, trying your best to pull off an innocent, naive look.

He looked down at you. His eyes were almost apologetic.

- You already know the terms, baby, - his raspy voice sounded pained. – Come back to Jackson with me. Play house with me. Let me take care of you. Let me provide for you.

When your unsure eyes met his, he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you against his chest.

- We can have a good life together, you and I, - he promised. – Just allow me to be your man, and you’ll have everything you could ever dream of. Safety. A house of your own. Children, if you want them. A dog, if you don’t.

Did it sound promising? Sure. Still, you shook your head. Everything you knew was back at your old QZ. And, even though Joel had done more for you than anyone else in a really long time, you still didn’t trust him. His intensity scared you. His need for you terrified you.

Joel’s eyes darkened. His hands untangled themselves from your hair, and he stepped back. Then he just turned around as if nothing had happened and started to prepare dinner.

You felt so, so helpless.

Would it be easier for you to escape from Jackson than it was escaping from here? There was a possibility of you finding a person who would feel for you and eventually would let you leave the town. Maybe, if you could get to Joel’s brother and his wife and convince them to convince Joel-

- If I come with you to Jackson, will you leave me be? – you tried to reason with him. – Can I just come back with you and we part our ways? Can we just act as if nothing happened?

With his back still turned to you, Joel pulled out a carton of eggs, placed them carefully on the counter and then turned to face you, carefully folding up the paper bag.

He looked you over with a heated glance, as if trying to decide whether some quick oral is worth letting you go.

- No.

You wanted to smash something against his head.

- No? How the fuck would you even explain me coming back to Jackson to your brother? You told me that you-

- If you’re coming to Jackson, nothing changes, - he put the paper bag on the kitchen island and approached you. – You come back but you’re still provided for by me. Sleeping next to me. Living with me. You’re still mine. I’m just offering you a bigger house and an additional human interaction.

You were fuming.

- And if you’re really thinkin’ that my brother might make me change my mind and let you go, you clearly haven’t learned anything in this past week, - Joel reached you and looked down at you almost comfortingly, as if trying to deal with a very, very difficult toddler. – He has his own troubles and he won’t risk his new family over some girl he hasn’t even met yet.

When you didn’t speak, Joel added:

- Take it or leave it, - he shrugged. – To be fair, I prefer not to share you with anyone. To keep you locked up. All to myself.

When he turned to return to his dinner, you weighed out your options and quickly made a decision.

- Fine.

He looked genuinely surprised.

That was a first.

- What? – Joel couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

- I’ll go to Jackson with you if that’s what you want, - you straightened, trying to at least keep an illusion of you having the upper hand. – On one condition.

Joel’s lips pulled upward. He looked quite handsome when he smiled. And for the first time in a long time, he felt genuine happiness. Still, he looked amused when you demanded a condition of your own.

- Let’s hear it, baby, - he urged you, motioning with his index and middle fingers for you to approach him.

When you did, he put his hands behind his back, watching your angry face.

You lowered you voice almost to a whisper.

- If I succeed in escaping from Jackson, - you started, - because I will attempt to do so, I can promise you that, - your angry eyes were met with his terrifyingly dark ones, - if I succeed, you don’t look for me. You don’t come after me. You don’t chase me. You let me go.

Joel put on a show of considering it. When he nodded, seemingly accepting your terms and conditions, you exhaled with relief.

But then he leaned down and added:

- Good luck with it, though, - he chuckled against your temple. – I will be watching every step you take outside our home. You will be by my side every second of every day. And, if for whatever reason, I have to leave Jackson, you will be tied to my bed, a vibrator pushed all the way up in your cunt to the highest setting to the point where you won’t be able to stand up, - he placed a light kiss on your forehead in an almost loving manner, - let alone run.

You trembled with either terror or need and hated that you couldn’t decide which one was it.

- You won’t hate me when I come back to you at night, - he promised. – You will greet me like your god because only I will be able to stop your misery. Running away will be the last thought in your pretty little head when I’m done with you.

He took a step back.

- I’ve been good to you, letting you adapt, - his eyes shamelessly roamed all over your body. – But don’t ever assume I wouldn’t use your own body against you. I’ve let you preserve your dignity but, if you try to run, I will overstimulate you to the point where you will beg me to fuck you. Where you plead for me to take you and make you mine. To ravish you.

He had never spoken to you like this. He had always tried to mask his lust for you and had allowed for you to do the same.

- I don’t want you to hate yourself for wanting your keeper. Don’t you think it would be easier on you if you wanted your husband, your lover? Allow me to make you my wife and you can sleep easier at night for wanting this, - he motioned between the both of you. – For wanting me.

- I already said I’d come with you to Jackson. That’s all I can promise you right now.

He nodded in an almost understanding manner. As if deciding on giving you some time to come to your senses.

- Fine, it’s a deal, - he decided and then something dangerous flashed in his eyes. – Now strip.

In a world that had shocked you every step of the way, you were still taken aback.

- W-what?

- You heard me. I’m taking that oral we argued about a bit earlier, - you noticed Joel’s hands slightly trembling, as if he was approaching a priceless artefact and, for the first time, he had been given a permission to physically touch it.

Except, he hadn’t.

- What? No, - you backed away. – The whole purpose of this was for me to come back to Jackson! – you argued. – You didn’t ask anything for it!

He shrugged, still zeroing in on you with predator-like steps.

- That was before. I’ve changed my mind. Now I want something for my troubles.

For the first time, you thought of a possibility of needing to physically fight off Joel. And you knew you wouldn’t be able to do that. Your hand reached for a book that laid on the table, you pulled back and swung it across his face.

His face just slightly turned to the side and, when his eyes found yours again, the pupils were dilated to the point his eyes looked black.

Shit.

You made it worse.

- That’s it, baby, - he encouraged. – Try to fight me off. You have no idea how hard I get every time you’re violent.

- I’m not sucking your dick, bastard, - you threw the book away, deeming it to be pretty much useless. – I’ll bite it off if you make me do it!

For a split second, Joel looked clueless. Then he chuckled.

- I think there’s been a little bit of miscommunication, darling, - his hands found your hips and pushed you, making you sit down on the bed. – I don’t want you to suck my cock, baby. I don’t enjoy taking something that’s not freely given. I enjoy giving.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He kneeled down in front of you, hands travelling up your hips. His long fingers started to untangle the messy knot you had tied in front of your sweatpants.

- I want to eat your pussy, baby, - a hand on your chest roughly pushed and held you down against the bed. – That’s what I demand for providing for you. That’s how you repay me for saving your life.

In what upside-down world were you in right now?

Since when did men consider giving being a prize to them?

Once he had gotten rid of your sweatpants, he hooked his fingers on the sides of your panties and pulled them down. When you tried to sit up and press your legs together, he shook his head, disappointed.

- Can’t have that, baby, - he tsked, placing a sloppy kiss against the inside of your thighs. – I want to fully enjoy myself and you’re getting in my way.

Next thing you felt was the coldness of the metal placed around your wrists.

He had handcuffed you!

Not paying any attention to your trashing, he cuffed your hands together and then cuffed both of them around the headboard of your bed. When you pulled against the cuffs, all he said was:

- Don’t hurt yourself, baby.

- YOU BASTARD! – you screamed. – YOU PROMISED! YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T DO THIS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! YOU DON’T HAVE IT!

He reached somewhere next to him and picked up a piece of your clothing.

- I’M GONNA MAKE YOUR LIFE SO MISERABLE YOU’LL WISH YOU NEVER SAVED MY LI-

Those were the last words you uttered before he stuffed your panties in your mouth, effectively shutting you up.

You tried to kick him in his face but he easily caught your calf, placed a quick kiss on your knee and spread your legs.

As you had thought before, your strength and anger were nothing compared to his. His warm calloused palms wrapped around your upper thighs, keeping you in place as his mouth delved in between your legs with no hesitation.

The first initial swipe of his tongue was torturous. Your conflicting mind and body refused to acknowledge the immense pleasure both of them received. He purposefully tortured you with thoroughly enjoying you and making every lick as slow as he possibly could. His beard pressed against your inner thighs and you knew tomorrow there would be red marks left from it on the inside of your thighs.

You tried to withdraw by pulling your hips back towards the front of the bed but his fingers dug into your hips and pulled you firmly back against his mouth. And when you tried to close your legs, his hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them apart. Joel’s tongue dipped inside your hole, and you squeezed your eyes shut when the tip of his tongue touched something inside you, making black dots dance before your eyes.

Fuck you for making me feel this pleasure, you tried to talk with your panties still in your mouth, fuck you for making me feel wanted.

Joel’s nose accidentally brushed over your clit and you whimpered, making him laugh against your core.

- This is how you’re going to sound and look every night from now on, - he lifted his head to meet your eyes, his lips glistening in your arousal. – This is how you’re going to receive your man home, sweetheart. This is how you’re going to reward me for all the troubles I go through to provide for you. With your legs spread and your mouth shut like the obedient little girl I know you can be.

His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Against every bone and wish in your body, you pressed against his mouth, trying to find some relief.

So, so close...

When you were balancing right on the edge of the abyss, Joel pulled back. A whine left your mouth against your better judgement, and tears pricked your eyes.

This week had left you in so much stress. You wanted this. You needed this. You had to have this.

His hand shot up and pulled the soaked material from your mouth.

- Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop... - you blabbed incoherently.

- Hey, baby, - his hand unwrapped from your thigh and grasped your chin to tilt your head towards him. – Beg me to make you come. Beg me to make you feel good, baby.

You tried to close your thighs to get some friction between them but Joel’s hands held them apart, making you suffer. The pressure was still there and it bordered with physical pain. You had to get some relief.

- Fine, - you nodded. – Fine! Please, please, make me come, Joel!

He leaned down towards your pussy and... softly blew air against your core.

When she twitched, Joel just looked up in amusement.

- I think she likes me, - he chuckled. – I think she knows who she belongs to.

- Just finish what you started, - you pleaded. – Please.

He tilted his head to the side, considering it.

- Tell me you want me, - he took a long swipe from your ass to your clit. – Tell me you’ll be a good little girl and let me take care of you.

- Fine, you can take care of me, - you panted. – Feed me and clothe me, and-

He sucked on your clit and you lost focus. And your ability to talk. Black dots danced before your eyes and your back bowed from the bed. He calmly ate you out through it, only removing his mouth once you had slumped back against the sheets.

- Good girl, - he whispered against your core and placed a kiss on your pussy lips. – Such a good, good girl for me.

You still tried to steady your breathing when he gently let go of your thighs and stood up. Towering over you, he reached to remove the handcuffs.

When your frightened eyes met his, Joel paused and leaned down to kiss you on the lips.

You could taste yourself on his them.

He placed his hand on your cheek in a lover-like manner, closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours.

You couldn’t help glancing at your brother who flew by your side. You could tell he was giving you a smile once he caught you checking up on him but it was a nervous smile. One you give to try to give reassurance. As you neared Storm’s End, the nervous anticipation only got stronger but, against every instinct in your body and mind, both of you kept steady onward.

Rain was pouring heavily, as both of you landed. You waited up for your brother while he reassured his dragon to stay calm, while your own dragon, Phoenix, seemed unbothered. You would’ve felt proud if you weren’t feeling so anxious.

A loud roar reverberated through the air, once Lucerys was by your side. Both of you immediately looked towards where the sound came from just for your blood to freeze in your veins.

Vhagar.

And what it implied was even worse.

Aemond.

Lucerys and you exchanged glances and started moving towards the entrance.

This was not the time for cowardice. Your mother had sent you as her representatives. Your uncle being here meant nothing. It was a long time since either of you had seen him. Your brother last saw the prince at the chaotic family dinner.

You last saw him right after it.

Strong boys.

How fucking dare he?

You were fuming, and you were tipsy but, most importantly, you were fucking offended.

Drunk ‘you’ got upset over shit that sober ‘you’ would bite her tongue upon learning. But now the gates of anger were wide open, as you strolled towards your uncle’s chambers.

Armed with way too much confidence and arrogance, you stepped in front of the guard that stood before prince Aemond’s door. You wanted to fight. Fight someone. Throw a tantrum.

With your mind, you understood that fighting a trained guard was unnecessary and would end up with you losing but right now losing didn’t matter as long as you got to fight.

Which is why it made you so much more angry when the guard simply stepped aside and opened the door for you.

Your eyebrows raised, as you disregarded him as if he had grown as second head.

- You’re just letting me past? – you sounded petty, as if you had wanted to scream about not being let in.

Because you did.

- You are allowed to enter at any time, - the guard calmly explained. – Orders of prince Aemond.

You opened your mouth and shut it again. Somehow it felt like an extra slap in the face after dinner. He didn’t even thought of you as a threat. He saw your brothers as bastards and completely ignored you who was also your mother’s child from Ser Harwin Strong. He openly let you into his chambers because he had no fear of you doing anything to him.

You simply didn’t matter.

Your brothers did.

Daemon did.

Your mother did.

You did not.

- You may come in, niece, - Aemond’s voice sounded from the inside of his chambers.

Confusion temporarily had made your anger subside but now it came back full force. You marched inside his room, ready to cuss him out or something but then Aemond turned around and your words died on your tongue.

He wasn’t wearing his eye patch. You could an emerald stone where his eye used to be, and somehow it made him even more handsome than the eye patch did.

Nobody could waterboard that information out of you.

Aemond searched over your face and, as if guessed your thoughts, smirked.

- You know, dear niece-

You raised your fist and punched him in the face. In around the same spot you brother had at the dinner. Aemond’s face swung to the side.

- You do know that I’m a bastard too, right? – you had no idea where you were going with this.

Your breathing had become erratic, and you almost shook with anger.

- No doubt about that, dear niece. You all have a signature punch, - Aemond touched his cheek in an almost soft manner. – It does not live up to the Strong name.

He smiled, watching you furious. Then he leaned in closer.

- Your father would be disappointed.

You refused to step back, and so both of you ended very closely together. Your head only came up to his chest so you had to look up to see his face.

There was something sensual about the way Aemond’s emerald shone down at you, as he towered over you.

- Why would you call out my brothers like that? – you hoped your words weren’t  slurred.

Aemond rolled his one working eye and turned around, looking almost bored.

- Why don’t you ask the question you came here to ask, Y/N? – he grabbed the eye patch that was sitting on the table and went over to the mirror. – I thought you were famous for your sharp tongue...

You took a deep breath to calm down and closed your eyes.

You were drunk.

It was definitely not the time to express any feelings you had.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with Aemond quietly watching you from across the room. He had an almost understanding expression on his face. As if he felt... sorry for you.

With any and all common sense you had left in you, you turned to leave. This was not worth losing your pride over.

In your mind, it was better to be ignored than to be perceived as a petty child.

- Nevermind.

As you opened the door, the guard that had let you in, stood in front of the door, completely blocking you from exiting.

You sighed. Coming here was such a bad idea...

- Tell your dog to move, uncle, - you asked, not looking away from the guard.

- Unfortunately for you, princess, - you could feel the small smile in Aemond’s voice, - while you are allowed to enter my chambers on your own, you are not allowed to leave without permission...

You turned back around.

And immediately took a step back, bumping into the knight at the door, once you noticed how close Aemond had gotten to you.

As Aemond noticed that your back was lightly touching the man’s arm, he harshly grabbed you by the arm, dragged you back inside and slammed the door shut.

Turning around to face you, you noticed that his nonchalant mask was slipping. He looked slightly irritated.

- Don’t be a brat, princess, - he tilted his head slightly to the side. – You came here to confront me, to demand something from me. So do it.

You shook your head, realizing that this – just like everything else that involved your uncle – was planned by him, and you beautifully executed your part of his plan by voluntarily coming to see him... alone... in private... just the two of you...

- I think you came here because your fragile little pride could not take on the fact that I didn’t add you to your mother’s bastard list, sweet niece, - he looked smug, stepping closer to you. – I think you’re neglected by your own family and cannot stand to be ignored by me.

His gaze traveled down to your neck, lower down to your neckline until he found what he was searching for. His fingers wrapped around your necklace that had a key on it. He pulled you in closer by it.

- Is that what you want, Y/N? – his pull on your necklace tightened and you were forced to lift you head up.

Your lips were mere centimeters away from his, as he bent down.

- Do you want me to call you a filthy bastard who does not deserve the title of a princess? – he asked in a low voice. – A filthy bastard who’s only deserving to be my personal little whore?

You shook your head but ashamed realized that his words truly made you aroused. Your breathing had become shallow once again. This time, not out of anger.

- Huh? – he whispered. – You want to be put in your place so badly?

You turned away, disgusted.

That might’ve turned you on but that was not the reason you were offended.

- You do not see me as an equal to my brothers, - you stated, bitterly.

Out of all people, you were disappointed that Aemond – specifically him, one of your closest childhood friends – was just like all the other men.

- That was the reason my fragile little pride, - you mocked his words, - could not stand your speech at dinner.

Aemond seemed taken aback by your words, carefully examining your face. His fingers loosened from the key and he looked confused.

- Are you for real, Y/N? – he looked downright angry. – You want to be an equal in something that is used to degrade and put down you brothers?

On a purely prideful level, Aemond could understand your need for being treated equally. He had felt the same need so many times, standing next to Aegon who was the first-born son and so, by proxy, the better son. However, what you did not understand, was that the very reason Aemond hadn’t called you a bastard at dinner, wasn’t because he saw you as equal to your brothers.

He saw you as better.

- You are just like the rest of them, - you pushed him out of the way, and he didn’t resist.

The knight at the door didn’t dare to stop you from leaving.

As you entered the hall at Storm’s End and your little brother started to recite the message your mother had given you, you felt goosebumps appearing on your skin. The tiny hair on your scalp stood up, and you shuddered. Suddenly, you seemed very cold, despite the warm clothes you had worn.

Your eyes searched over the dark hall, trying to find the source of your discomfort. Deep inside you knew who you were searching for... Vhagar outside... But you didn’t want to admit it.

But there were no more excuses to be made, once your eyes found Aemond’s across the hall. He stood a bit aside from lord Borros, confident and poised.

You shared your brother’s nervousness, as he, too, noticed your uncle.

Your hand subconsciously went to your sword. Aemond’s eyes lazily traveled down your body to where you kept your hand.

He seemed greatly pleased and not at all surprised that you had come with your brother.

Perhaps, it was because he knew that in your fruitless and desperate attempts to be seen as your brothers’ equal in your parents’ eyes, you would do anything. Even die.

You had only half-listened to lord Borros’ speak but you perked up at the mention of a marriage.

- King Aegon at least came to me with a marriage offer, - lord Borros didn’t point anything further but you knew who the marriage pact involved.

Aegon was already married so it left only Aemond. You were irrationally pissed at yourself for feeling disappointment and hurt at the announcement.

- Which of my daughters will you marry? – lord Borros demanded your brother.

- Lord Borros, I’m not free to marry, - your brother sounded much more confident than you felt.

This was going awry. And fast.

- I’m already betrothed.

Lord Borros eyes shifted towards you, and you calmly stood your ground.

- Are you free to marry, girl? – he asked you in a harsh tone, addressing you for the first time since you arrived. – You are your mother’s child so you could be used for an alliance as well...

Seemed like every pair of eyes had shifted on you.

None were angrier than the ones belonging to your uncle.

Was he angry that lord Borros had acknowledged that you are a valid candidate for the marriage to one of his daughters?

- Lord Borros-

- My sister is not free to marry either, - your brother said, cutting you off. – She’s arranged to be married to Jacaerys Velaryon.

Lord Borros seemed amused at the thought, not being used to the Targaryen marital ties that never extended far outside its familial ones.

- So you come with empty hands, - lord Borros announced.

Your eyes kept shifting to your uncle, who didn’t seem very pleased. Was it because you and your brother had shown up? Was it your engagement? Was it his hatred for Lucerys? Was it his hatred for you?

- Go home and tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set up against her foes, - lord Borros dismissed you.

The bad feeling you had since the moment of landing was getting stronger. You felt your throat closing up.

Your brother took a step further towards the lord but your hand instinctively wrapped around his upper arm to keep him back.

- We shall take your message to the queen, my lord, - you announced, ignoring the look of desperation your brother gave you.

Both of you turned around to leave, with the guards doing the same. You refused to let out the breath you were holding until you were out the door and safely on your way back. Lucerys was few steps ahead of you when you heard:

- Wait!

It wasn’t the voice of Borros. It was Aemond’s. Cold washed over your body. Neither one of you dared to move for a split second before turning around to face Aemond. You could feel his gaze run all over your body before settling on your younger brother who was half-hidden behind your back.

- My lord Strong, - he said to your brother before his eye shifted to your form; with a mocking smile he added, - my lady Strong.

You gritted your teeth. So now he acknowledged you? Here, out of all places?

- Did you really thought you could fly about the realm, trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?

You knew the knights of lord Borros would not defend you. You knew that Lucerys wouldn’t be able to take on Aemond. And, no matter how proud you were of your skills in the battlefield, you were still not match for your uncle.

- We will not fight you, - your younger brother announced. – We came to deliver a message, not to fight.

In that moment you thanked every god there was that you had come with Lucerys and not your other brother.

- Fight would be little challenge, - he calmly explained, then his one good eye, again, settled on you. – Entertaining but not enough nevertheless.

Your hands were shaking so badly that you were sure Aemond could see them even from across the hall.

Surely lord Borros wouldn’t just allow Aemond to slaughter two people in his hall, right?

- No, - prince reached for his left eye and removed the eye patch. – I want you to put out your eye.

Your hands stilled, as you looked at Aemond’s face. Beautiful as ever, deadly as ever but that wasn’t what made your heart skip for a moment.

It was a sapphire.

The sapphire.

Your sapphire.

- I wanted to give you this before I left, - eight-year old you sat down next to ten-year old Aemond with a small box in your hands. – My dad gave this to me as a gift.

Aemond looked at the box in your hands and lifted the lid. Inside sat two sapphire jewels, both identical and attached to small chains for wearing as necklaces.

The little boy beside you smiled, and that made you smile.

- My dad said to give the other half to the person I love the most, - you explained, shyly. – My soulmate.

Aemond looked at you in surprise. Of course, you were his best friend and meant the world but this gift – the symbolism of your friendship – made him realize that his eternal affection is, in fact, reciprocated.

- If you don’t feel comfortable, I un-

- I’ll take it, - he pulled his jewel out and put it closer to his left eye to look at it closer.

Aemond saw the moment you realized it was your gift he wore in place of his lost eye. He looked self-satisfied with your anger.

Because that meant that you weren’t apathetic. You still felt something for him. Even if that something was hatred.

- As payment for mine.

You were known for minding your business and keeping cool in stressful situations. Perhaps, if you had been there alongside Aemond, Baela, Rhaena and your brothers, outcome of that night might have been different.

You minding your business, however, ended right when someone came after your family.

- One will serve, - Aemond threw your brother a knife but it landed right in front of you.

Nobody in the entire room moved. Everyone was frozen still, waiting. Waiting for something horrible to happen. Waiting for something irreversable to go down.

- I would not blind you, - Aemond’s entire focus was on your brother. – I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.

Even though most of Lucerys was hidden behind you, all Aemond’s eye saw your brother. You didn’t exist. Once again.

Lucerys stepped in front of you and calmly took in the knife, laying at your feet. You could feel his nervousness but, like the true son of your mother’s, his voice didn’t give it away.

- No.

Your uncle didn’t seem to breathe for a moment.

- So you’re a craven as well as a traitor.

Lord Borros seemed to understand before anyone else did what was about to happen.

- NOT HERE! – his voice boomed into the void cold that seemed to fill the hall.

You saw Aemond move before your brother did.

- GIVE ME YOUR EYE OR I WILL TAKE IT, BASTARD! – Aemond went straight for your brother, grabbing his own knife from the ground.

Your movement was almost instinctual. You saw your brother take a step backwards, so you roughly pushed him behind your back right before Aemond reached you.

Aemond’s cold hand grabbed your throat, as his knife was pushed against your eye.

For some reason – anticipation, fear or surprise – you didn’t close your eyes. Maybe you wanted to see the reaction Aemond would have once he’d realize what he’s done.

Would there even be one?

He roughly pulled you closer by the hand wrapped around your throat.

For the length of one single breath nothing happened. Then you saw a flash of sudden regret appear in his eye, as he watched his knife being placed right before your eye. His face conformed into something of a disbelief.

All Aemond could think about was how very close he had gotten to harming you. He saw what could’ve happened like it was engraved in his brain. You bleeding out, as his hand held your cut-out eye. You looking at him with surprise, disgust and eventually, coldness.

His right hand, the one holding the knife, shook.

He so very slowly pulled the knife away, his one seeing eye searching desperately for any blood or harm. His other hand, wrapped around your throat, feeling your pulse and breath, stayed where it was.

You suddenly realized you hadn’t been breathing at all. You quickly inhaled but it sounded almost like a sob to Aemond who looked at you in utter horror now.

She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s okay, Aemond tried to convince himself. She’s fucking fine!

Once his mind started to comprehend, he yanked you right into his chest by the hand that still had a hold on you. The same hand buried itself into your hair and pulled it hard.

You could feel Aemond’s ragged breathing in your ear, as he leaned down to whisper:

- You will pay for that, princess, - you could still feel him shaking. – And I’ll make sure you never do stupid shit like that ever again.

Then, once he straightened up, he pushed you backwards in such a rough manner that you almost lost your balance. All you could see on his face was anger.

Was he angry at you? For risking your life?

Was he angry at himself? For almost ending said life?

- Your eye won’t do, - he spat out venomously, before adding, - bastard.

At least he had gotten around to acknowledging you.

You had completely forgotten about your brother until his hand grasped yours. His hand, too, was shaking, and you realized that so was yours.

Were you actually scared of Aemond?

That thought had never occurred to you before.

Aemond’s gaze slid down to your intervened hands. His lips pulled into a smirk, as he put his knife back inside his coat.

- Enjoy your time with your brother, princess, - he said.

Once both of you had gotten outside, Lucerys immediately pulled you into a hug. Your breathing was uneven, and you weren’t sure whether you were actually sobbing or not.

On shaky legs, you got back onto your dragon and took off. Your brother stayed right by your side this time. You pushed everything you thought and felt in the back of your mind. You could deal with that back home. This was more important.

And then there it was...

A shadow.

It covered both of your dragons and came from right above. For a second, you thought that you might’ve flown under some storm clouds but then the clouds moved and you realized it was a dragon.

Vhagar.

Aemond.

You looked at your brother, both of you, with no words exchanged, understood each other. Both of your dragons shot up into the clouds to gain height.

Lucerys got there first and went through the storm clouds, but as you neared the same spot, the larger dragon’s wing hit your Phoenix right in the face. You were knocked to the left, and only the belt of your saddle kept you seated. But your dragon quickly went towards the water in a wayward manner.

She quickly regained balance, and you nervously looked around in the rain.

What was Aemond trying to do?

He probably knew knocking Phoenix aside wouldn’t do much harm...

But, as you watched Vhagar with Aemond shoot up into the sky while you were left below to calm your dragon, you realized he wasn’t trying to harm you. Or kill you.

He was separating you.

You flew towards the same spot both Lucerys and Aemond had disappeared just moments ago. You could almost feel the sunshine on your face, as you urged Phoenix to gain speed.

Almost there.

Almost-

Your dragon was hit once again, this time the blow was more powerful. Phoenix screeched, as you were knocked out of the saddle. Staying seated on an uncontrolled dragon with no saddle was difficult, something you hadn’t learned before, and you realized you were going down.

Only while trying to keep one of the rains in your hands for some balance, you realized what had hit you.

It wasn’t Vhagar.

It was Arrax.

Parts of Arrax.

One of his wings, now ripped off, was floating in the air right beside your own dragon, while the rest of his body free-fell into the sea. Arrax’s head and back, along with the saddle and your brother, were all gone.

Phoenix was uncontrollable, nearing the water at the same speed as the dead dragon next to you, and you grasped the rains with all your strength, waiting to hit the water.

***

Pale light sneaked behind your eyelids, as you felt your body being lifted up in someone’s arms, out of water.

Your head swung to the left. Opening your eyes, all you saw over your rescuer’s shoulder was water.

Your wet hair stuck your face and neck. Freezing coldness swept over your body, as your fingers dug into a man’s jacket, desperately trying to cling to him and seek his body heat. Your gaze slowly moved toward their head and even with the dirty water making your vision unclear as you blinked a lot, you saw long, white hair.

A Targaryen’s hair.

- Relax, - Aemond threw out carelessly. – You’re safe.

Those were the words he murmured a lot under his breath, as he walked towards the shore.

You’re safe.

She’s safe.

Safe.

Alive.

- Lucerys, - your voice trembled with unspoken question. – Is he...?

- Dead, - Aemond suddenly stopped once both of you were completely out of the water and roughly almost dropped you in sand.

Your eyes burned. Either from tears or the dirty water, or both. Your throat constricted, as you took deep breaths.

Only then you realized that it also burned when you breathed. Did that mean you were drowning? You had been underwater, right? Had Aemond saved you after killing your brother and nearly killing you?

Your accusing red eyes – either from crying or anger – met with Aemond’s, as you stumbled upright. Your entire body shook. Was it the freezing cold? Anger? Grief?

Aemond stood before you calmly with his hands grasped together behind his back. He disregarded you with what almost seemed like quiet amusement.

- YOU KILLED HIM! – it came out like a sob, even though you didn’t think you were crying. – YOU KILLED LUKE!

You pushed him back with all the strength that you had but it didn’t even move him. The negotiating with lord Borros, flying back and forth, fight in the sky and near-drowning had taken the last of your physical and mental energy.

One of Aemond’s hands encircled both of your wrists and refused to let you step back, even as you tried to walk away from him.

His eye patch was gone and with his long, blond, wet hair wild and your gift sapphire in in his eye the sight was almost ethereal.

Your eyes desperately seeked for Phoenix who might be your last chance of self-defense.

- She’s alive, - Aemond guessed. – But a bit restricted at the moment. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you back in King’s Landing...

You shook your head, as water from your hair slowly dripped onto your clothes.

- I’m not going back! – you almost screamed. – I’m going back to my mother!

Aemond shook his head too. In pity. As if he was dealing with an annoying child who should know better.

Pair of wings swept over your heads, high up in the sky.

- Rȳ mōrī, iksi hēnkirī*, - his lips pressed against your forehead. - Isse se mōris, iksā ñuhon...**

You considered digging your feet into the sand and refusing to go but that would just probably result in Aemond carrying you.

He unbelievably gently put the other hand on your cheek, turning your head towards Vhagar who had just landed.

- Come, my beautiful bastard princess, - he whispered. – I need to announce your mother of her son’s death, and you need to let your fiancé know you are withdrawing your betrothal...

* At last, we are together (High Valyrian)

Stupid fucking loser, Aemond’s hand clenched into a fist under the table. Take your hand off before I break it off!

Right in front of him, right across the table, Aegon had you smiling at him affectionately. His right hand was resting casually on the back of your chair, dangerously close to your neck. From Aemond’s place, he could see his brother’s fingers lightly stroking strands of your hair.

You had leaned in closer towards Aegon, as he half-drunk told you something you seemed to be way too interested.

Bullshit, Aemond thought to himself, that loser couldn’t string along an interesting story to save his life...

You just wanted to fuck him.

Was it better that you actually didn’t find his brother interesting or funny, that you just appeased him to get him into your bed? Was it worse that you wanted to sleep with the bastard?

Aemond’s eye narrowed as he tried to find your motivation for this absurdity. There was no way Aegon had rumors going around about him being good in bed. He was known to be a sloppy, drunk, selfish fuck who wouldn’t give two shits about your pleasure. His brother had no charm... Were you trying to make him fall in love with you? Make him marry you?

That had to be it. There was no other logical explanation. No way you craved some drunk when there were men begging on their knees for you attention, men begging on their knees for you to pick them and allow them the pleasure of your company.

He would.

Aemond.

He would beg you on his knees to allow showing you all the ways he wanted to worship you.

But you didn’t see him. Ever since your mother, Rhaenyra, had brought and left you here, you hadn’t even looked at him twice. Not when the great Aegon “Cant’t-Fight-For-Shit” Targaryen was standing right beside him.

After his mother had introduced you to everybody, Aemond had already taken a step forward to introduced himself separately when his stupid, good-for-nothing brother had thrown out a half-conscious joke about him teaching you to drink ‘cause that’s all he’s good at. You laughed. Aegon was pleased and had given you a rare smile. Nobody else mattered, and Aemond had stepped back, watching Aegon snatching your attention.

Somehow both of you got along. It was as bewildering as it was annoying. His mother was very much pleased, and Aegon seemed to be more... neutral.

Was it wrong for Aemond to be okay with his brother falling back into bad habits and addiction if that meant that you no longer spend any time with him?

He looked away from both of you, unable to watch any longer without launching  any utensil available at his brother’s head. Accidentally meeting his mother’s eyes, Aemond realized he’s given too much away and turned his attention back to dinner.

Everyone seemed to pleased at this god-forsaken dinner table. Greens and Blacks didn’t get along too well but with the king demanding peace and two members of Greens and Blacks were practically on each other at all times, something similar to an alliance had formed for this evening.

Once the music started and his stupid nephew had asked his sister to dance, Aemond noticed Aegon flicking his eyes towards the dance floor more than once.

Don’t even dream about it, fucker, Aemond wanted to scream at him.

He was drunk. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t take two steps without falling flat on his face! What kind of dancer would his brother make tonight?

Aemond moved almost on a whim once he saw Aegon getting up. Due to his brother being heavily intoxicated, Aemond was able to cross the room in the time period it took for Aegon to get up.

You looked up from where you where sitting and then your eyes slid down to Aemond’s extended hand. You swallowed, watching the younger brother towering over you with such intensity. You were also quite tipsy, although not as much as your companion.

In your intoxicated state you hadn’t noticed how everyone who still sat at the table had stopped talking and had turned their whole attention towards the end of the table where you sat. Alicent looked almost scared as if she knew exactly how violently Aemond had pictured dealing with Aegon. Your father looked vaguely entertained. Your mother seemed a bit surprised.

- Are you sure your high education covered dancing, brother? – Aegon who had also stood up, no doubt to ask you to join him on the dance floor, softly laughed at his brother. – You know, you can’t learn that from b-

- Shut up, - Aemond spoke to Aegon but his eyes didn’t leave yours. – A dance, my lady?

You put your glass down and placed your hand in his warm one that completely engulfed yours. Aemond’s fingers lightly tingled wherever your skin touched his. Aegon sat back down and everyone – either bored or out of politeness – returned to their boring discussions.

You were more drunk than you thought as you miscalculated your steps and ended up almost running into Aemond’s chest.

- Sorry, - you murmured, backing up. – I don’t think I’m gonna a good dance partner tonight, Aemond.

Aemond.

Not lord Targaryen.

Not prince Aemond.

Whenever you were distracted or tipsy, you almost always called him by his name. At those rare moments he could imagine replacing his brother as your companion and friend. You never called him by a title.

His other hand, the one not holding yours, reached to steady you by your bicep. He easily towered over your height and when you looked up, he decided that that right there is the sight he’d cherish to see every day for the rest of his life.

- It’s fine, - he lead you towards where Jacaerys and Helaena already danced. – I’ll lead.

The moment you started dancing, Aemond realized exactly why this was such a bad idea. Once one of his hands went to rest on the small of your back and the other grasped your hand, he noticed how close you stood. But that wasn’t all because you were also drunk and by proxy – forgot to give enough space.

Your left hand reached under Aemond’s arm, up his back and rested on the back of his shoulder. In your drunken stupor, you couldn’t keep yourself up steady so your lightly pressed your face against his shoulder and let him lead.

Aemond’s breath hitched in his throat. You were so, so close. He only had to lean down a little bit and he could place a kiss directly on the top of your head.

- You smell so good, - you quietly giggled, sucking in a deep breath, burying your face in his shirt.

So quietly that for a second the prince thought he might’ve imagined it.

Was this how you would’ve danced with Aegon, had he gotten a chance to ask you? Would you say those same words to him?

Not unless you liked the mix of wine and sweat.

For a moment Aemond’s blood froze in his veins. Did you think he was Aegon? You were drunk enough to mistake your mother for your father.

- Who am I? – Aemond threaded carefully. – Can you say my name, sweetheart?

You looked up with a puzzled expression but not an unconscious one. As your brows furrowed, you tried to pull your hand back from Aemond’s hand but he snapped his fingers shut around it.

- What?

- Do you remember my name, Y/N? – he whispered softly.

You stared for a moment longer before bursting out laughing. It was Aemond’s turn to look bewildered.

- I’m not that drunk, prince Aemond, - you proclaimed, leaning back against him. – Everything’s just spinning and blurring.

Aemond exhaled in relief. Looking over your head, his eyes found Aegon’s who was still still nursing a glass of wine. Once their eyes met, Aemond couldn’t help but look smug.

Watch me, brother, he wanted to laugh in Aegon’s face. Watch me steal her and keep her all to myself.

Aegon either was too drunk or simply didn’t care.

What an idiot...

***

As the dinner was wrapping up and most of the family had already left, you stood up too. Your mother and father had retired early, saying that the babe could come any day and they needed all the rest they could get. Both your brothers were still at the table, so was Helaena and Aegon.

At least you thought that was Aegon.

He was watching you from his seat, as you lightly stumbled on your feet and knocked over an empty glass.

Had you been sober, you would’ve noticed that the blonde prince sitting in front of you was far too calm and stiff to be your drinking companion.

- Shall I escort you, sister? – your oldest brother offered.

You shook your head. Last thing you wanted was to fuck up his chance with Helaena after he spend the whole ride here gushing over her.

And you were prideful enough not to agree to be escorted to your room by the brother half your age who probably was too young to even see his sister in this state.

In the state you were in – everything blurring together and your body barely holding you upright – you didn’t notice the young Targaryen prince’s eyes never leaving your form for a second.

You stumbled into the hallway and the strong burst of clear air coming from the open windows gave a little bit of restart to your brain. You leaned against the wall and greedily inhaled the pleasant evening air, all the while trying not to vomit.

Hangover’s gonna be a bitch tomorrow...

- Shall I help you to your room? – a voice behind you made you jump.

- No, Jace, I’m... – your started but once the person talking entered your very limited peripheral vision, you quickly correct yourself. – Oh, it’s just you.

Aemond tilted his head, watching your unfocused gaze run all over his body. He hated when ladies of the court did that, it made him feel insecure. However, he had no problem with you checking him out so thoroughly.

- How are you okay, Aegon? – you half-laughed, lightly punching Aemond’s side. – You drank more than me!

Aemond felt freezing cold seeping into his bones. You checked him out because... you thought he was Aegon? You laughed and smiled because you mistook him for his brother?

Even now when his brother was nowhere in sight, even now he could feel Aegon’s amusement dancing around the empty hallway.

Still no chance, brother?

I’m not even in the same room, and she still chooses me? Damn.

Aemond felt a deep need to go find his drunk, undoubtedly passed out brother and threaten, plead, beg him to never speak to you again. Maybe then he could have a chance to be looked at, to be seen by you.

Everything suddenly flipped before your eyes and you felt yourself lose balance but before you could hit the ground, you felt yourself being lifted up by two strong arms and being held close to a man’s chest. You head lulled to the side and fell into the croak of Aemond’s neck.

Your warm breath tickled his skin and your messed up hair stuck to his skin, as Aemond began walking.

You weighed nothing in his arms, and the young prince narrowed his eyes. Had you even eaten anything at dinner? Or were you just drinking?

Fucking Aegon.

Aemond felt even more bitterness seep into his heart. Aegon truly didn’t care.

I would, he decided. I would make sure you are fed, warm, happy, healthy.

- Just take me to your room, - you muttered under your breath.

Aemond sucked in a breath and his heart skipped a beat only until he realized who you thought you were talking to. His good-for-nothing brother. Fucker was not even here and was still ruining everything.

- Over my dead body, - Aemond threw out and began the long walk to your own quarters.

Once he had you in your room, he carefully placed you down on your bed and grabbed a blanket to cover you. You tried to shrug it off but he knew that you’d be cold once you sobered up. He brushed few loose strands away from you eyes and bent down to kiss you.

A forehead kiss wouldn’t hurt anyone...

However, the closer he got to your half-conscious form, the more his eyes strayed to your lips. He towered over your sleeping form and then suddenly, before he could talk himself out of it, leaned in closer and pressed a kiss against your lips.

Heaven tasted like a mix of you and wine.

He closed his eyes, taking it all in. Your lips were soft and made to be kissed by him. He wanted to feel them on his face, on his neck, down his chest, around his dick.

- What are you doing? – your eyes were wide open, and Aemond immediately straightened up.

Aemond cursed himself for being foolish enough to let his temptations and greed take over for even a second. He stood completely still, hands behind his back shaking a little.

- I-I’m sorry, - his voice cracked, imagining that he’d ruined everything. – I didn’t mean-

He couldn’t finish though because in the next moment you had already risen to your feet – still obviously intoxicated but more stable due to the fresh air – and crossed the short distance between you two. With concern Aemond regarded your hooded and still very much unfocused gaze, as you rose to your tiptoes.

Your right hand slid into his blonde hair and tugged. Aemond felt himself getting harder – if that was possible – as your lips touched his neck. You kissed his skin lighty before biting him.

Aemond’s hands went to hold your waist, as he felt himsef lose more and more in your touch, in your taste, in your presence.

- You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, - your whispered, licking a hickey you’ve just given him before looking up into his eyes. – But you never seemed interested...

You pushed him against the wall and Aemond’s hold on you tightened.

- You’re so cold all the time... – you mumbled to yourself, as you started unbuttoning his shirt. – Only nice to me when you need something...

Aegon’s a fucking bastard, Aemond thought but secretly enjoyed that both of you weren’t as close as it had seemed from afar.

He desperately waited for some morals to kick in. Was he really okay with you thinking he was his brother? Was he really that desperate to be with you, sleep with you, that he would be okay to be called by his brother’s name?

An answer came as soon as you placed an innocent, chaste kiss on his chest.

He turned you around so that now you were the one against the wall. His mouth practically attached yours and one of his hands slid into your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss your neck. When you moaned, he felt drunk and delirious.

And triumphant.

Fuck Aegon and fuck your feelings for him. He was gonna destroy every single thing you felt for his brother...

- Aegon, - you moaned.

Aemond gathered your wrists in one of his hands and pinned them above your head.

- Don’t say my name, - he begged more than commanded. – Not tonight...

He gave you a few hickeys on your neck and breasts. He’ll enjoy you seeing them in shock in the morning. You tugged on your wrists to be released but Aemond only held them tighter.

- I fucking love this, - you whispered.

- You won’t tomorrow, - he whispered, putting his free hand on the nape of your neck before kissing you softly. – But we’ll work it out.

When you looked up at him, he thought your eyes looked clearer and gaze was less hooked. For a second, he thought you might’ve regained enough sobriety to recognize him but you only pulled your wrists free, put your hands on his naked chest and pushed him into your bed.

Climbing on his lap, you were the one who initiated kiss this time. The cold rings on your fingers touched Aemond’s skin, as you cupped his face. You kissed passionately and breathlessly, and Aemond hated that Aegon had probably felt the same kisses at some point.

Doesn’t matter, he thought to himself. You’re mine now.

He quickly flipped you over and pushed the unbuttoned bodice of your dress down to your hips. You moaned louder as his lips found closed around one of your nipples. Your hands went into his hair once again but this time he pinned your wrists against the bed.

- What do you want? – he asked, looking up at you. – Tell me what you want.

Your lips looked bruised and thoroughly kissed. As they should look. Every day for the rest of your life...

- I want, - you panted, as Aemond’s long fingers brushed against your lower lips, losing your train of thought. – I...

Aemond chuckled darkly, detaching himself from your chest.

His useless brother could never...

Would never.

- Please, fuck me, - you begged. – Please, fuck me, Aemond.

He completely froze above you. He didn’t dare to breathe. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Has he gone completely mad in the short time he spent with you?

- What did you just call me? – he asked, voice dangerously low. – What did-

Even in your drunken stupor, you had attitude. You dared to roll your eyes – no joke – into the back of your skull out of sheer annoyance.

- I’m sorry, Aegon, - you stressed his brother’s name with frustration. – You know I mess both of your names when drunk...

Aemond still stood himself still. So... You’d done this before? You’d made out drunk with Aegon but called out his name? Aemond felt rush of electricity through his body. There were evenings when he would retire to his room without knowing that somewhere in the castle you were screaming out his name in pleasure?

- That’s fine, that’s fine, - he said neither to you nor himself. – It’s all fine.

So you weren’t as unaffected by him as he had thought? You did notice him? You’ve noticed him enough to fantasize about him while in between the sheets.

Aemond felt estatic.

- Just fuck me and be done with it, - you commanded Aegon – Aemond – and pulled him down for a kiss.

Aemond flipped you on your stomach and peppered kisses down your spine. You tried to turn back around but he stopped you with a hand on your back, pressing you down into the matress.

- Stay still, sweetheart, - he whispered against your back. – I want to take my time.

- You’re annoying, - you huffed but still let him do his “enjoying”.

Aemond was nervous. Mostly, because he had never done this with anyone since that first time Aegon had brought him to a brothel and forced him to lose his virginity.

Would you notice a difference?

You probably would sober but now – even though you were fairly coherent – now you would probably assume Aegon had mastered something new from one of his nightly visits.

An insecurity he’d never felt before gripped his heart.

What if he was not enough? Good enough, satisfying enough for you? He always had the need to excel at everything but now – with you – that need to be the best you’ve ever had was overwhelming.

- Stop teasing and fuck me already, - you whined, looking back at him.

He slowly slid inside your tight cunt and pulled your back against his chest so you were forced to practically sit back against him. He wrapped his hand around your neck and pressed his lips against your ear.

- Do I fuck better than him? – he whispered, as he roughly thrusted into you again and again. – Or does that drunk moron actually knows what he’s doing in bed?

Your eyes narrowed, as he the other arm of your lover wrapped around your naked waist and pressed you further into him, continuing to fuck you fast and rough. You felt him in your stomach...

For the first time...

Ever...

Aemond licked your earlobe before leaning down to suck a hickey on the side of your neck.

- Quite frankly, I don’t care, - he said darkly into your ear. – He’ll never fuck you again.

Something flashed in your memory. The scent. It was oddly familiar.

- He’ll never touch you again. I’ll make sure of it...

Your eyes widened as you recognized the scent of your dance partner earlier tonight...

But it was too late anyway.

Aemond roughly pushed you forward and you landed on your elbows, his fingers digging into your hips as he mounted you from behind. You had sobered up enough to recognize that this was not how Aegon fucked. He was never passionate about it. You couldn’t tell from just looking at him but Aegon actually preferred slower sex.

This was no Aegon.

Realization came too late because the moment Aemond’s fingers touched your clit, you felt your orgasm explode and dark dots started dancing across your vision. He let you ride out your orgasm before he pushed into you to the hilt and came deep inside you.

That was the last thing you felt before you lost consciousness.

***

Your eyes weren’t open yet but you heard voices. Whispering, angry voices just few feet away. Your body seemed to be on fire, every fiber and muscle ached. You tried to pull the blanket over your head, only to realize that all you had on you was a thin silk bed sheet.

That was new.

- You know what’s going to happen now, - an angry woman’s voice sounded somewhere close. – You were heard by dozens of servants. They know.

You opened your eyes and saw the queen standing by the door. Your head was pounding as you tried to see with whom she talked.

- I know, mother, - a familiar husky voice responded. – I’ll take care of it.

There was a pause.

- The right way.

As you dressed, you had disturbingly erotic flashbacks from last night. You were with Aegon. Surely. Blonde hair. Strong arms. No doubt there was no one else you would “accidentally” fuck while drunk.

It was no secret you and Aegon had somewhat of a fuck buddy relationship. You got drunk together. You slept together. You did stupid shit together. That was your thing because at the end of the day you didn’t love him. Didn’t even like him. Probably couldn’t tolerate him sober. Although, that theory had never been tested due to both of you never staying sober for long.

He was a nice toy, a nice placeholder, coincidentally beneficially looking a quite similar to a different man who often craved...

As you went down for breakfast, you were met with few servants giving you dirty looks. It would bother you if you weren’t so damn hungry.

Maybe they heard me and Aegon last night.

That had to be it.

Entering the dinner hall, you immediately noticed two things – your mother looked nervous and Aegon was nowhere to be found. Furrowing your brows, you went to sit down in your usual spot – next to Aegon’s seat that was empty this morning. Then you noticed that your spot at the table – where there usually would be dishes of food and glasses of drinks – was empty as well.

- Did we rearrange seats? – you half-laughed, looking at your family.

Your father gave you a look of pity, while your mother looked down. Even both of your brothers were silent.

Freaky.

The queen cleared her throat and silently tilted her head to the empty seat in front of her. In front of her and right beside prince Aemond who sat back in his seat with one hand on the table, clearly enjoying your confusion way too much.

Not wanting to create a scene and question these changes, you went to take your seat when Aemond suddenly stood up to pull back your chair for you. You stopped, surprised.

- My lady, - prince greeted, a smug look on his face – You look well rested this morning.

That was a weird statement and clearly not the truth but you brushed it off and sat down. Your eyes kept going to back to where Aegon was supposed to be.

If he was with you last night, where did he go? How did he make it back to his room drunk out of his mind?

- Where’s Aegon? – you asked no one in particular.

When no one answered you, you locked eyes with the man on your left.

He was already looking at you.

- He’s probably passed out somewhere, - Aemond explained softly. – I heard he had quite a night.

You wanted to throw out something witty or laugh but you had strong suspicion you and Aegon were heard last night so saying something right now might be innapropriate...

Where did he pass out though? When did he leave?

- With one of the servant girls...

It took your foggy brain a sizeable amount of time to process his whole sentence together. Aemond’s eyes didn’t leave your face, as you finally put the words together.

Passed out somewhere... quite a night... with one of the servant girls...

Wine on your lips got bitter aftertaste. It took you a lot of effort to swallow down a gulp. Your eyes met with the queen’s over the table. She looked at you. As a matter of fact, everyone at the table was.

You put the wine down and cleared your throat. Aegon... No, he had to be the one in your room last night...

Involuntarily a horrified realization washed over you.

The words were different...

He’ll never touch you again.

The touch was different.

The scent was different.

The man was different.

Because it was not the same man at all...

Your head snapped to your left where Aemond sat, quite satisfied with your reaction. You opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted by your mother.

- I think it’s best if we just get this over with, - she said. – The less time passes before the wedding, the less people will talk about this... incident.

You turned to your mother.

- What incident? – you asked.

It seemed like your mother had trouble putting it into decent words so she looked down again. It was your father, Daemon, who spoke up.

- People know about your... nightly endeavours, daughter, - he finished. – A wedding as soon as possible would help your reputation and serve as an alliance.

- Wedding with who? – you started to feel cold sweat cover your back. – Wedding with-

You couldn’t finish once you felt warm fingers touch the side of your neck. You knew it was Aemond before even turning your head. His fingers slowly stroked your skin and you felt a small ping of pain exactly where Aegon... Aegon had...

Where Aemond had left a hickey. Last night. When he fucked you.

- I think it’s for the best, wife, - he savored the title on his tongue. – We don’t want people saying that the man who took your virginity didn’t want your hand in marriage...

You straight up laughed, roughly batted his arm away from your neck and stood up to tower over him.

- If it’s the virginity that’s so important for marriage, I should probably marry Aegon! – you hit the table with your hand.

Aemond stood up too, and you had suspicion he only did that to gain height advantage. He leaned in closer, into your personal space, and whispered so only you would hear him:

- There is no proof of that, aside from suspicion from our families, - he chuckled darkly. – But there’s more than enough evidence for what we did last night.

You looked up at him, horrified how well he had thought everything through.

- I guess it’s a good thing both of you hid your relationship this well, - he smiled and continued talking to you in his low, husky voice. – And, unless you’re ready to publicly admit you lost your virginity to a married man, I’m afraid formally you lost it to me...

You slapped him across the face with all the strength you could muster after last night.

His head tilted to the side only a little bit. The bastard laughed.

- There’s that spirit from last night! – he said, looking at you thriumphantly. – Save it for our marriage bed, princess.

- Aemond, - the queen warned him.

In any other case, you would be horrified to have these things said to your in front of your family. Right now you didn’t care.

- You set me up! – you accused, and upon realizing that nothing will salvage your reputation in front of these people, added just as loudly. – I thought you were Aegon!

He saw a glimpse of irritation that you now recognized as familiar because that’s the look he always got whenever you spoke about his brother. Then it just as quickly disappeared and was exchanged for a smirk.

- And still you called for me, - he had lowered his voice again, as if not wanting to share too much of your intimacy with anyone. – You came for me. You screamed for me.

- Fuck you!

Glimpse of amusement flashed in his eye and only now somewhere in your brain it registered that he hadn’t worn the eye patch while fucking you. Glimpses of memories of the blue saphire solidified the fact that it was indeed Aemond who was with you last night.

- That you will too, - he promised darkly. – You’ll never fuck nobody else, wife. If you dare to attempt that, I’ll deliver his cock to your as a gift to look at while your husband fucks you...

You had no idea how much people around you had heard, and, frankly, didn’t care.