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navybrat817 · 6 days ago

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Deep in the Woods: Part 1

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter your grumpy temporary neighbor while attempting to chop some firewood.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit rude at first, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: A new dark AU inspired by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 's ask. ❤️‍🔥 Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for cheering me on! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun shining in the sky was deceiving as you hauled a large piece of wood to the tree trunk. It was chillier than expected, and the cold would only get worse once the sun went down. Your cabin had heat, but you'd be stuck if it went out and you didn’t manage to chop some firewood. Making a fire you could handle. Chopping wood?

That was another story.

“Okay,” you smiled, setting the log upright and adjusting your gloves before you grabbed the axe. You gripped the handle tight, raising it above your head. “I got this.”

The blade hit the log almost dead center. Unsurprisingly though, it barely pierced the wood. You hunched over, tugging at the axe, nearly losing your balance in the process. “I still got this,” you huffed, shaking out your arms and swinging again.

The next swing went deeper, but only by an inch. The swing after that, you nearly missed completely. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your body warming despite the chill in the air. After a moment, you dropped the axe and stared at the log with your hands on your hips. It was nowhere near split.

“I don’t got this,” you sighed.

“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from behind you.

Your heart leapt to your throat as you spun around, and it raced even faster when you spotted a figure just a few feet away. He was a large man, and one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He would likely tower over you if he stepped closer. His dark hair hung messily past his shoulders, while his perfectly trimmed beard gave him a rugged edge. The flannel he wore strained against the biceps of his muscular arms, one of the shades of blue matching his thunderous eyes.

Was he glaring at you?

“Hi,” you smiled, trying to sound friendly as you gestured toward the unchopped log. “I was just trying, and failing, to chop some firewood. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

He kicked a small twig away with his boot. “I didn't ask what you were doing. I asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’”

Your smile slipped. Maybe he was local and didn't like outsiders, though something about him seemed familiar. “Oh, yeah. Right,” you said, giving him your name and nodding to the cabin nearby. “Mr. Hunter rented the place out to me. I’m staying for a couple of weeks. Just got here this morning.” You hoped the place wasn't double booked.

He relaxed a fraction, but his glare didn't disappear completely as he took out his phone and dialed a number. You heard a ring as he put it on speaker. While he tapped a foot impatiently, you weren't sure what to say or do.

“Howdy, neighbor,” a raspy voice answered on the other end.

“Did you rent out your place?” he asked, keeping his eyes on you when your face got hot. You wanted to yell that you wouldn't lie about something like that, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

“Yeah. Pretty lady. Paid in full upfront. Clean background, too.” You looked at your feet. It was weird to listen in even though it was on speaker. And did he say “clean background”? What did that mean? “Why? Is she-”

The man hung up the phone. “Didn't think he rented his cabin out anymore,” he said more to himself than you.

An awkward silence filled the air. “Yeah, well, apparently he does. I booked it a couple of months ago and he left a code to get in and some instructions for the place,” you explained, trying to smile again as you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s a really nice place and the view up here is gorgeous, like something out of a photograph. Do you live nearby?”

He grunted and jutted his chin out. “My cabin is the next one over to the left.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled more, grabbing the axe again. “And it was very interesting meeting you, temporary neighbor, but I should try to finish this up.”

Before you could blink, the man was directly in front of you with one hand on the handle. He was even bigger up close. “If you’re thinking of taking another swing at that log, don't,” he barked at you, snatching the axe from your hands. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or him grabbing it from you that made you flinch. “This isn't a toy, it’s dangerous. And from the looks of that log you have no business trying to do that to begin with.”

Your cheeks burned again. It was bad enough that this guy didn't take your word for staying at the cabin, but the last thing you needed was for some stranger to lecture or humiliate you, and a grumpy one at that. “Yeah, well, if my cheating asshole of a boyfriend hadn't been balls deep in his colleague, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He'd be out here chopping firewood and I’d be inside cooking, which is something I'm actually good at, thank you very much,” you snapped.

Your tone surprised him enough to let you take the axe back. “I didn't…” he trailed off when you held up a hand.

“You don't know me and that’s fine, but I’m trying to be friendly and that's more than you can say,” you continued, his nostrils flaring. He didn't have to be nice to you, but he didn't need to be rude either. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I'm stuck here by myself, I’m trying my best to make it work, and I don't need some random stranger out here giving me a hard time for no reason.”

Your eyes burned as he stared at you, but you squared your shoulders and held your head high. You spent enough time crying over a prick who wasn’t worth it and you refused to shed another tear because you deserved better than an unfaithful asshole. And you sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of some hot grump with a chip on his shoulder.

The man’s pensive look dissipated more of your sudden anger and his tone softened considerably when he asked, “You’re really out here by yourself?”

You tensed up. It wasn't smart of you to broadcast that you were all by your lonesome. “Yeah, for now,” you said, your voice softer, too. Maybe you could convince a friend to stop by for a day or so. “I know I’m not good with an axe, but I tried. I just wanted some firewood in case the heat went out for any reason,” you said, your shoulders sagging. “So if you don't mind, can I please finish up?”

He nodded, taking the axe more gently this time. “Let me,” he offered, your eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “And step back. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Once you moved out of the way, he lifted the axe and split the log down the middle with expert precision. With his view on the task at hand, you swept an appreciative gaze over him. The guy was a bit of a grump, but he filled his jeans out well. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, mister,” you told him, getting a grunt in response. “My problems aren't your problems and I didn't mean to get so defensive about my lack of wood chopping skills.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he said, grabbing another log. “And nothing to be sorry for. I didn't exactly lay out the welcome mat for you.”

“It’s… Wait, Bucky.” Your eyes widened in realization. “Bucky Barnes?”

He froze before he brought the axe down again. “Heard of me?”

“Of course I have. You helped save the world,” you smiled. Years back, an alien warlord had wiped out half of the population. Not only did a group of heroes called the Avengers help reverse the wipeout, but they stopped the monster with the help of many others across the galaxy. Bucky was one of those people. No wonder he seemed so familiar. “You’re a hero.”

A tortured one at that. You remembered seeing a few articles about him. A former prisoner of war turned brainwashed assassin turned hero. He was pardoned for the crimes committed while was brainwashed, and rightfully so in your opinion, and he went on to use his skills and expertise to help others.

What was he doing out here in the woods?

“Not really a hero anymore,” he said, brushing his hair back with his forearm. “Now I’m just a lumberjack who values his privacy.”

“Oh.” That answered your question. “I guess valuing your privacy explains why you didn't roll out the welcome mat,” you teased, wringing your fingers together. You felt kind of bad again for snapping at him. Given his past that you were aware of, it made sense why he would've been suspicious of someone new popping up near his home.

He stopped to glance at you. “Guess it’s my turn to apologize,” he said.

You blinked, not wanting to lose yourself in his deep gaze. “No need. I figured you were just a local who didn't like new people around.” You smiled at the pile of wood he made. “I think you chopping firewood for me is the perfect apology. You saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

He hummed, putting the blade in the tree trunk once he finished. “You said you cook?” he asked, wiping his gloves on his jeans as he faced you.

“Yeah. I actually have a stew keeping warm right now,” you replied, shifting on your feet when he stared you down. “Are you hungry? I made plenty.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Okay.” Your smile faltered when you walked toward the cabin with Bucky close behind. Was it a good idea to invite him in when you didn't exactly know him? The guy was a hero though. No reason to be suspicious.

The aroma of seasonings, beef, and vegetables greeted you as you opened the door and set your gloves on the entry table. “If you don’t mind taking your boots off, that was one of the instructions,” you told him, removing yours and hanging your coat on the hook.

While the cabin wasn’t large, it was in great condition. It was also extremely clean and tidy. The guy who owned it likely didn’t want dirt on his floors.

“Yeah, God’s kind of picky about that stuff,” Bucky said, putting his gloves on top of yours. You caught a glimpse of his metal hand, but you quickly looked away. It wasn’t polite to stare.

“Wait. The G in G.B. Hunter stands for God?” Your brows pinched as you walked toward the kitchen. “What the hell does the B stand for?” you muttered to yourself.

“That’s really what it stands for. He’s a bit of a strange guy, but a good neighbor when he’s here,” Bucky said, following close again. He was practically on top of you. “So, your boyfriend. He-”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected him, inhaling deeply as you lifted the lid from the warm pot. The scent brought a smile to your face and pushed a bit of the bitterness away. “What about him?”

Bucky grabbed a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He knew where the spoons were, too, so he was at least somewhat familiar with the place. You weren’t sure how that made you feel. “How long were you two together?”

“Almost a year,” you replied. A waste of about twelve months and it wouldn't be fun to start over again.

He set the bowls on the counter before he grabbed a couple of drinks, sweeping a look over you. “Did you catch him cheating?” he asked curiously.

You froze, the image of your ex scrambling to cover himself and his colleague up as you walked in taking over your mind. You had to blink multiple times to make the image go away, but it didn’t stop your stomach from turning. “Yep,” you answered, your throat tight. Why did he want to know? “Tried to give me some lame excuse that it wasn't what it looked like, but I slapped him and said we were done. I can forgive a lot of things, but cheating isn’t one of them.”

“Loyalty is a good trait to want in a partner,” he mused.

“It is, but it’s a trait he didn't have apparently. At least we didn’t live together,” you continued, taking a breath. It hurt and felt good to talk about it. “We were supposed to come up here for a getaway and I debated cancelling the reservation, but I figured it would be a good way to clear my head.”

The kitchen felt warmer and you figured it was because you were close to the stove until you realized Bucky was right at your back. You went rigid when he inhaled. Maybe he was just smelling the food. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You gripped the ladle until your hand ached. “Not your fault,” you whispered, keeping perfectly still. If you moved forward, the stove would burn you. If you moved back, you’d be right against him. It was a small kitchen, but there was no reason for him to stand so close.

You didn’t exhale until he moved to set the drinks on the table. “You got a job?” he asked.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, thankful for the change in topic. “Yeah, data entry. Not too exciting, but it’s decent pay and I don’t have to go into an office or deal with traffic.” You scooped a generous portion of stew into a bowl for him, just in case he was really hungry. “As long as I have my laptop and an internet connection, I can get the job done.”

“Must be nice,” he commented, but it sounded more admirable than sarcastic. “You said you and your ex didn’t live together. Do you have a roommate? Pets?”

You side-eyed him. The tone was casual, but what was with the multiple questions? “I live alone because my apartment is about the size of a shoebox,” you said. It was cozy though and yours. “Nice thing is the rent is cheap. Sad thing is the building is pet free.”

He took out his phone as you got your bowl ready. “I have a cat,” he said, shoving the phone close to your face. It was a photo of a beautiful white cat sitting by a window. It was endearing picturing a burly man holding such a delicate creature. “Her name’s Alpine.”

You smiled at the image. “She’s really beautiful. I’ve always loved cats.”

He smiled a little, too, but it went away as fast as it appeared. “She’s very particular with people, but you’re welcome to meet her.” He took the bowl from your hand to carry them to the small table nearby. “She might like you since you’re sweet.”

Heat rolled up your neck. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said. It wasn’t like you had any plans during your time there, but he had done enough by chopping the firewood for you.

His jaw ticked. “If it was an imposition I wouldn't have asked.”

“Oh, I wasn't trying to imply anything,” you promised, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't your intention to upset him.

“Are you allergic to cats?”

“No, I’m not,” you answered.

He set the bowls on the table and leveled you with a hard stare. “Then I think you should meet her,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Sit.”

You hesitated before you sat down. “Okay then,” you said. Maybe he was trying to make up for being rude earlier by welcoming you in some capacity. “Does tomorrow work?”

His lip curled up in a smile, giving you a nod, too. “Tomorrow. Early afternoon,” he replied, taking a seat. How did he still look so big sitting down? You watched him blow on a spoonful of stew before he took a bite, his eyes shutting with a groan. It was a deep, primal sound and you shouldn't have liked hearing it. “This is… really good.”

You beamed, unable to help yourself. You took pride in your cooking. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, digging in, too. “So, you said you’re a lumberjack now. How long have you been doing that?”

He hunched over a bit as he took a few more bites, like he hadn't eaten all day. “About nine months. Tough mission happened and I had to walk away from it.” He shrugged dismissively. Did the mission have a bad outcome or was it just the straw that broke the camel’s back? It wasn’t any of your business. “Came out to the woods with Alpine, started chopping down trees to work out some of my frustration, and it somehow became my new job. The woods suit me better than the city anyway.”

“Yeah? How so?”

He shrugged again. “It’s quiet, peaceful. No judging or prying eyes,” he answered, pushing the now empty bowl away. It almost sounded like he was hiding from the world. “And I don’t mind working with my hands. Can chop trees down pretty fast and it doesn’t take long to get the logs to the sawmill. Even built some of my own furniture in my place.”

“You build your own furniture? That’s so cool,” you smiled. It took a moment, but he smiled back a little. “Being a lumberjack sounds like hard but satisfying work,” you added. You admired him for being a hero, but also for his new, humble lifestyle.

“Yeah, it is.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “This might be rude to ask, but you wouldn’t mind making us lunch tomorrow, would you? I can cook, but it’s nothing like yours.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you took it as a compliment that he liked your cooking, but something in his stare made you want to squirm. Could it be the assumption that you were going to have lunch with him when all he said was that he wanted you to meet his cat? “I don’t mind,” you smiled. Maybe the guy was a bit lonely and just wanted someone to share a meal with. You could sympathize with that. “Anything in particular you like? If I don’t have it, I can go to town and-”

“Surprise me, doll.” The chair scraped along the floor as he pushed himself up, towering over the table and you. “And don’t bother going to town. Whatever you have here to cook, I’ll eat it.”

“I’ll surprise you then.” Your brows pinched as he went back to the kitchen. He walked around like he owned the place. “Oh, help yourself,” you said when he stopped at the stove for another bowl.

He paused to look back at you. His blue eyes looked a shade darker and you couldn’t help but shiver. “I plan to,” he stated.

You gave him a smile, discreetly patting your pants pocket to make sure you still had your phone on you. It wasn’t like you needed to call anyone for help, but you were all alone and had to be careful. You were still going to have a nice time though. It would be a relaxing trip and you could catch up on reading, relaxing, whatever you wanted.

Besides, Bucky was nearby just in case. The guy didn’t seem to have a complete sense of boundaries, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was a hero. You didn’t have anything to fear.

Right?

Oh, our reader did herself no favors by answering truthfully that she's all alone. I wonder how Bucky will play this... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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juletheghoul · 5 months ago

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The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to.

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs.

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing.

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers.

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes.

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores.

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it.

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome.

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company.

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean.

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off.

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms.

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born.

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh.

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly.

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own.

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you.

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen.

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now.

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts.

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him.

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

------

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #Marcus acacias x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #marcus x reader

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pretty-sparkle-bomb · 2 months ago

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Guys, I got cuteness aggression this morning. Am I being delusional? Maybe, maybe not.

Check out my Bakugo Masterlist here! This series is linked under the name "Highschool Crush"

P1, P2, P3, P4

♥︎~

You sighed, stopping halfway on the set of stairs. "Whose bright idea was it to put our class on the top floor of this gigantic building? And why—seriously, why—don’t we have elevators?"

Mina snorted as she looked back at you. "Tired already?" she teased, nudging Jirou who laughed quietly at your pouty face.

"No shit, sherlock. These stairs are torture."

"You're a hero in training, honeybunch. Move those legs." Mina jogged the rest of the way up, reaching the top effortlessly with Jirou by her side. Both turned to look down at you, matching smiles on their faces.

You straightened up, arms crossed. “Nope, I’m done. You two can carry me the rest of the way.”

Mina chuckled; she had waited so long for this moment. “Why don’t you call your boyfriend to do it then? I distinctly remember you saying you’d love his hands all over you, especially when—”

“Shut up, Mina!” you screeched, bolting up the remaining steps and slapping a hand over her mouth before she could finish. Your face was on fire. How could she do this to you?

Jirou doubled over in laughter, slapping her knee for emphasis. Your face was painted with disbelief, which only fueled her laughter.

It was hard to keep a straight face when she was wriggling her eyebrows suggestively at you.

As you all walked to the doors of 1A, you took a deep nervous breath. Would Bakugo speak to you today?

"You look constipated." Jirou whispered, placing a hand on your shoulder as she stepped infront of you. "Calm down, girl."

As you entered the class, Bakugo's eyes immediately shot to you. Did you do something to your hair? He tries to remember what hairstyle you took the previous day and shakes his head, trying to tune back into the conversation he was having with Kaminari and Kirishima.

“...and bam! I took him out. Man, I hate campers,” the electric blonde said, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

Kirishima laughed, nodding. “I hear you, dude. Totally unmanly behaviour.”

Bakugo grunted in agreement but glanced back at you, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he was still trying to figure out what was different.

You felt a surge of confidence. Maybe today would be different. Maybe, just maybe, you’d actually get to talk to him without turning into a stuttering mess.

Mina gave you a gentle shove forward. “Go on, before you chicken out.”

You locked eyes with him and your heart tightened in your chest. Woah, his eyes were so pretty.

"Heyy y/n." Kaminari drawled, propping his face onto his palm as he winked at you. You rolled your eyes at his antics. "Morning Kaminari." you muttered.

"No good morning for the other two gentlemen here?" Kirishima playfully huffed.

You chuckled, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Good morning, Kirishima,” you said with a warm smile.

Oh boy, did you have to say that to him too?

“...hey Bakugo... morning.” You kept your voice steady, but your pulse quickened when his eyes stared up into yours.

"Mornin'." he grumbled, turning away to look at Kirishima, giving him a glare as if to say 'why the hell are you forcing it?'.

The redhead pretended to be oblivious to the holes that Bakugo was grilling into the side of his head as he chuckled at you. "See? That wasn't too hard, was it?"

You giggled, "Whatever, Kiri. See you guys later."

You exhaled shakily as you made your way back to the two girls who were waiting for you by the door with curious gazes. They motioned for you to go outside and with a shaky exhale, you did.

...

"Ohmygoshdidyouseethewayhewaslookingatyou?!" Mina squealed, shaking your shoulders excitedly.

"Let her breathe, Mina." Jirou whispered, though you could tell she was happy for the small interaction. "His eyes were so soft when he was speaking to you. He looked like a vulnerable little puppy." she mused, turning to you.

Mina nodded frantically. "And his eyes were on you like the whole time! Even when you were walking back to us! Rahh, just date already!" she jumped around.

Your face was so red. You spoke to him... he spoke to you... he was looking at you?

"Was he really looking at me?" you asked hopefully.

"Mhm."

Damn it, Katsuki Bakugo... the things you do to me.

♥︎~

Taglist! Thank you for all the support <3

@mimidonottouch @mikestuffffs @vant3hell @succulent-momma @minkyungseokie @sugurusmoon @idkwhattocallmyselfs @cutebutpsychooxx @jprincesssf @unofficialsapphire @zanyqueencoffee @maddie-rose-1 @madisonnnnnstvr @aefillor @love-me-satoru @meeeepsworld @oddball08 @reads-stuff-quietly @starmycar @djlance-rock @bkgsdoll @nqobil3 @your-mum3000 @dynakats @emmaiskoolio @ggrumbir @ginevraxrogers @emmab3mma

#my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #x reader #female yn #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou

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golden-cherry · 8 months ago

Text

deal - cl16 (27/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Cuddles and snuggles with friends are totally normal. But sleeping on top of each other?

Warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

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A/N: if seems very rushed, I'm deeply sorry. I just didn't know how to write this chapter. feedback is appreciated (as always, please and thank you!)

As a cold gust of wind blows around your heads, you snuggle a little closer to Charles.

"Are you cold?" he whispers into your hair and strokes your spine with his fingertips, giving you goose bumps. Something he uses as a reason to tighten his arms around you.

The fire in front of you is almost out, with only a few logs crackling in the bowl in front of you, providing the last bit of warmth in the dark December night. The thin blanket wrapped around you doesn't do much to keep out the cold wind. As you start to shiver, Charles pushes you off his lap.

"I'll add some more wood. Hopefully you'll be a bit warmer then," he smiles gently and gets up from the couch.

"It's okay," you reply and start to fold the blanket in your lap. "It's already late. We can just go home."

But your roommate shakes his head. "We can still stay here."

"But -"

"I still want to stay here." His tone sounds almost desperate. "Please."

When you look into his eyes, there's a warm sparkle in them. And when he smiles, the sweet dimples bore into his cheeks, and you can do nothing but return his smile. "Let's go then. It's freezing."

You watch him take some logs from the corner by the patio door and place them in the almost burnt-out fire bowl. While you stretch out on the sofa cushions and snuggle back into the blanket, he lights a new fire. The light from the flames illuminates his face and gives it a golden glow.

You rest your head in your hand. "I didn't know you were so good at starting a fire."

Charles, kneeling on the other side of the fire bowl, can't help but grin. His gaze flickers from the flames in front of him to you. "There are a few things I'm good at that you don't know about." He licks his lips once before straightening up and taking the few steps to the couch. His eyes move from your face to your covered body. "Is there room for me too?"

You raise your eyebrows before pulling your knees up a little so he can sit at the other end of the couch. "Here you go."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Nuh-uh." Before you know it, he slides his arms under your body and lifts you off the couch - without much effort. "We'll share the space. It's fair." He sets you on your feet and pushes the blanket into your hand, then stretches out on the sofa so quickly that you can't protest. He clasps his hands behind his head and grins at you.

You, on the other hand, cross your arms in front of your chest. "I think we have different definitions of 'sharing'." As he slips an inch, you have to suppress a smile. "And apparently also of 'fair'."

"I think it's very fair," he defends himself, dropping one arm to his side so that it's between his body and the backrest. "I'm lying on the couch and you're lying on top of me." He shrugs, as if it's no big deal that he wants you to lie with your body on top of his. "Come on. I thought you were cold. And standing around isn't going to help you warm up."

You step from one foot to the other. "You sure?"

Charles rests his head on the armrest of the couch before spreading his arms out. "Come on. We sleep in a bed at home. There's not much difference here."

Not much difference.

You feel your heart pounding. "There's a big difference between lying on top of each other and lying next to each other."

Charles sighs loudly before sitting up and reaching for your hand. You can't resist as he pulls you towards him with all his strength, almost causing you to trip over your own feet. The blanket falls to the floor and thank God you can support yourself with your free hand, otherwise you would have landed on his face.

"Charles!"

Your friend wraps his arm around you so that you don't slip off him or land on the edge of the sofa. His cold fingers slide under your sweater and find their firm place at your side, while his free hand lifts the blanket from the floor and spreads it over the both of you. You have no choice but to lay your head on his chest and snuggle up to him.

"It's not so bad, is it?" he murmurs into your hairline and kisses the top of your head, making your heart beat faster. You just hope he can't feel it.

"For being so muscular, you're pretty comfortable," you confess, playing with his fingers as they continue to hold your hand. "Not as comfortable as the couch, but I'm not complaining."

You feel Charles' body shake beneath you. He laughs. "I can lie on top of you if you want." His fingertips slide further from your side and almost slide under your body. He presses you tightly against him. "Then I'd crush you. But maybe that wouldn't be so bad. The closer, the warmer."

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and press your face into his chest.

You're a little surprised that Charles turned the last remnant of his two-year relationship into ashes a few hours ago and is now making these kinds of comments. He even cried. But maybe that's what he needs. A friendship that goes deeper than shallow conversations and coffee dates.

Maybe he needs the closeness, emotionally and physically. Something he can hold on to when the roof falls on his head. Someone who pushes him to be better, but also brings him back down to earth when he takes off.

You want to be that person for him. Even if it costs you your heart.

You watch as the individual logs begin to burn. Charles' chest rises and falls beneath you and you feel his warm breath on your forehead as the fire crackles in front of you. Charles' hands change positions; the one that was holding your own a moment ago slides under your sweater to gently stroke your spine, while the other finds its way to your head. With warm fingertips, he brushes some of the hair from your face before he starts scratching your head.

"Do you want me to fall asleep?" you murmur against his shirt-clad chest.

"Would that be so bad?" You feel his lips move against the top of your head. Before you know it, you feel them on your forehead as he breathes a soft kiss on your cool skin.

"Uh-huh."

"Why? I thought I was comfortable?" His voice is barely louder than a whisper.

You curl your fingers into his sweater. "Pretty much. You're pretty comfortable," you repeat to yourself. "My bed at home is more comfortable, though."

"Then I'm sorry."

You twist your neck a little to look at him. You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

He strokes your cheek once with his thumb. "That you have to make do with me." His warm breath caresses your face and although you are literally lying on top of him, you only now realize how close you are.

You smile tiredly. "Don't worry," you push yourself up a little and press your forehead against his cheek; his beard scratches gently against your skin. "My bed may be comfortable, but you're still my favorite."

Charles' lips kiss the tip of your nose before he kisses your forehead once more. "You're my favorite too, mon amour." His long arms wrap around your body under the covers, holding you close as the rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep.

You dream of peonies, pasta, red cars and lightning and warm lips on yours. Of strong arms that wrap around you, a body that lies on top of yours. You dream of Charles, his smile and the warmth he radiates. And only when his body moves beneath you do you slowly wake up from your dreams.

"Sleep well?" Charles' voice is raspy and deep in your ear as you squirm a little in his arms.

You exhale deeply, but keep your eyes closed. "Uh-huh."

Charles laughs softly and your head bobs on his chest. "So I was more comfortable than I expected."

Slowly, you open your eyes. The fire bowl has burnt out, there are only ashes in it and the only things that light up the night are the moon and the stars in the sky above you and a small lamp that shines a soft cone of light on you from the living room. "How long have I been asleep?" You rub your eyes sleepily.

"A few hours. But don't worry, as far as I know you weren't drooling," he jokes, but that doesn't stop you from jumping off the couch as if bitten by a tarantula.

"I'm sorry," you apologize, running your fingers through your hair, "I didn't mean to use you as a personal pillow."

"It's okay," he replies with a smile and scratches his beard. "I was going for it with the cuddling and the tickling, after all." He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm quite irresistible."

An image of him on top of you flickers in your mind's eye. How true.

"I'm sorry though." You grab Charles's legs and lift them up so you can sit on the couch next to him. His calves rest on your lap. "Your back must be incredibly sore."

He waves his hand. "This couch is still better than the one in our old apartment. It really was a horror." He leans back a little, stretches his back over the armrest and you can both hear the crack of individual vertebrae in his back. When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he grins. "Oops."

"Come on." You push his legs off you and stand up. "Let's go home. There's a super comfy bed waiting for us. And there's enough room so we don't have to sleep on top of each other." You hold out your hand to him to pull him off the couch.

He puts his hand in yours, but instead of you pulling him up, he pulls you back towards him so that you end up on his lap. "Then let's stay here. On this couch. It's not as comfortable as our bed, but at least I'll have you lying on top of me." His grin is so wide that it almost reaches his ears.

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. You try to suppress the fact that your hands start to sweat and a warm shiver runs down your spine. "You're impossible."

"I thought I was irresistible?" he asks, leaning forward.

You hold your breath. "You said that, not me. And you're talking a lot of nonsense."

Charles lifts his hand and places it against your cheek, letting it wander until his fingers find your neck and his thumb lifts your chin. His mouth opens and his tongue glides over his full lips. "True. But when I say you're the most important person in my life, that's not nonsense."

You place your hand on his. "Then what is it?"

"The truth." He smiles lovingly. "You are - the light in my darkness, the fire in my veins, the music in my heart. I never expected that you could grow so fond of someone in such a short time. And then you came along." He hesitantly removes his hand from your cheek and the warmth it had radiated disappears. "You're my best friend."

Never in your life have you wanted to scream as loudly as you do at this moment. And you want to scream at the man in front of you, tell him that you want to be more to him than his best friend, that you want to kiss him, that you want to be his. And that you can hardly stand it when he's not with you.

And you want to scream at yourself, smack yourself, because you're trying to convince yourself that a friendship is enough, even though your heart is telling you that it's the last thing you want from him. You want to grab yourself by the shoulders and shake you until you come to your senses.

You are Charles' friend. His best friend. And even if actions speak louder than words, his words were unmistakable.

You smile at him. "I wouldn't want to be anything else either."

While Charles pushes the sofa back into place, you clear away the rest. You fold up the blanket and put it on the back of the sofa in the living room and the empty Coke cans end up in the garbage can in the kitchen. There's no sign of Joris, but his bedroom door is closed and there's not a sound to be heard. The apartment is dead quiet until Charles joins you in the kitchen.

"Last time we were here, we had a fight afterwards, remember?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

You turn to him and take a look at the kitchen island, where nothing is lying around except for a large wooden board. You chew the inside of your cheek. "I hate to remember that."

Your flatmate tilts his head. "The phone call or the argument?"

"The fight."

Charles pushes me away from the doorframe and stands opposite you at the kitchen island. "I'd like to apologize again. I went one step too far. And we haven't even known each other for twenty-four hours."

"Charles..."

"No, listen to me." He circles the counter until he stands in front of you and takes your hands in his. They're soft and warm. "I crossed a line that day and you were right to be angry with me. I just want to say again that I definitely don't want to do that again. The fighting I mean." He smiles. "I'd defend you to Raphael any time of day or night."

You purse your lips. "Then it's a good thing we can leave him behind. Just like Annika."

He lifts your hands and presses a fleeting kiss to your knuckles. "And I couldn't have done it without you."

The drive home isn't far, thank God, and as Charles parks his brother's car in the underground garage, you're overcome with tiredness again. You would have preferred to stay in the car, recline your seat and close your eyes. But Charles's hand on your thigh pulls you back into the world of the living.

"We're here, sleepyhead. Come on, there's a warm bed waiting for you upstairs that can hardly wait for you to snuggle up in."

"I can hardly wait either," you smile as you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow your roommate to the elevator. The light inside is bright and far too harsh for your tired eyes, so you close them and lean your head against the elevator wall. "I'm so tired."

"But you slept."

You open your eyes and look at your friend. "What's up with you? Aren't you tired too?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Do I look that exhausted?" He runs a hand through his hair. "I slept a bit too, don't worry. You lying on top of me wasn't just comfortable for you."

You try not to think too much about his comment as you get ready for bed and then lie down in your long-awaited bed. You plug your phone into the charging cable and see an Instagram notification pop up.

You have to smile.

liked by pierregasly and others tagged: yourusername francisca.cgomes: favorite cardigan, favorite person

"What's up?" asks Charles, who closes the door behind him.

You try not to stare at his naked torso, which, thank heavens, you manage to do. "Here, Kika's following me on Instagram now." You hold your phone out to him briefly so he can see her post. "I'll just follow her back."

"Can I follow you now too?" he asks as he lies down in bed next to you, phone in hand.

You look at him in confusion. "You're already following me."

Charles laughs as if you've told a joke. "That's right. But this is my private account. I'd like to follow you on my official account, if that's okay with you."

"It's okay with me," you reply, "but are you sure? After all, Kika has tagged me in her pictures. And if they go to my profile, they'll see that you're following me too, won't they?"

You don't really want to rub his caring in, but it was his idea to take Kika and Pierre furniture shopping. And to drive through Monaco in your old Renault. The fact that he wants to follow you - quite publicly and for everyone to see - on Instagram goes against everything he's done for your safety.

"They will. But we're friends, after all, and I won't be able to keep you out of the spotlight forever."

"All right." A moment later, another notification pops up. You quickly accept his request and follow him back before looking at the last picture he posted. You grin at him. "Cool picture, who took that?"

Playfully clueless, he shrugs his shoulders before snuggling into the pillow. "My best friend."

As you put your phone away, he switches off the bedside lamp and darkness and silence fill the room. You feel his warmth under the covers and you want to scoot the few inches over to him and press yourself against him until you're engulfed by his warmth.

"Would it be weird if we cuddled?" His voice sounds hesitant, as if he was struggling to ask you that. When you don't answer, Charles quickly backpedals. "I'm sorry. I know we're just friends, but - I don't know - when you're there, I feel like I'm at home. And it calms me down when you're with me. I'm sorry, that all sounds totally selfish."

You reach under the blanket for his hand. He squeezes it twice. "Friends can cuddle too, I think. I mean, without ulterior motives."

"Good," he murmurs and his arm wraps around your middle to pull you closer. He drapes your leg over his hip and your hand rests on his chest. "Is that okay with you?" His fingertips dance on your bare skin under your sleep shirt.

You press your face into his neck and breathe in deeply. As you exhale and your hot breath brushes over the soft skin of his neck, he pushes your leg down a little further, tangling your limbs together. "If that's what it is for you."

"It is." Charles presses one last kiss to your forehead before resting his cheek against the top of your head again. "And now we need to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I don't think my mother can wait to get to know you better."

"Do you think she'll like me?" you ask softly into the darkness.

Charles' skin is warm and soft against yours as he presses you against him and your shirt slides up a little. "I think that anyone who gets to know you better will fall head over heels in love with you. Whether they want to or not."

Charles Instagram post

liked by francisca.cgomes, pierregasly and others charles_leclerc: aux nouveaux départs posted three days ago

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female oc #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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vivwritesfics · 9 months ago

Text

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Six

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.7K

Series Masterlist

"You need to stop taking me places in a private jet or I'm gonna get used to the princess treatment," she said with a giggle as she looked out of the window, watching the clouds go by. Below them was nothing but ocean.

Lando put his drink down. "C'mere," he said, beckoning her over.

She left her seat and walked over to him. Lando patted his suit clad thighs and she sat down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. They hadn't been dating for long; it was the most intimate thing they had ever done.

Lando had his arms wrapped around her. "Get used to the princess treatment," he said. "That's all you're gonna get with me." He kissed her cheek as she laid her head on his chest.

That was how they sat together on their flight to Spain. "What's your sister's fiancé's name?" She asked, her hand resting over his beating heart.

"Carlos," he answered. "He's an ass."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he can't be that bad, he is gonna be your brother in law, after all."

"Trust me, baby, he's the worst."

Baby. She liked that. She really liked that. "Tell me everything I need to know. Who's gonna be there? Who of your family should I expect to meet?" She asked eagerly.

Lando couldn't stop himself from smiling. It was something he had noticed, that the only time he smiled was when she was with him. There was no way he could get through the wedding without her.

"Okay, so you've got Carlos and his sister. I've only met them once, but from what I remember, they just whisper mean things between each other in Spanish. Then there is Carlos's parents, Sainz and Mrs Sainz, his wife. I'll try and keep you away from them. Everyone else? I'll introduce them as you meet them," he said, his hand moving across her thigh.

She suppressed the shiver that ran down her spine. His fingers were so soothing. "What about your family?"

Lando shook his head. "My mum is dead, my step mum is dead, and my dad is almost dead," he said, his grip on her tightening.

"Shit, Lan," she whispered, hands reaching up to run through his curls. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise, I never told you," he mumbled.

His phone went off, but Lando ignored it. She kissed the top of her head and squeezed her. "Thank you for coming," he whispered. "I seriously couldn't do this without you."

It wasn't long before they touched down in the Sainz family's private hangar. It was full of other private jets, from the other families that had arrived for the wedding. Lando took her hand and led her out of the jet. There was a car waiting for them when they stepped out into the warm Spanish air.

Lando opened the door to the car for her. "Such a gentleman," she said with a grin as she climbed into the car. Lando followed her in and placed his arm over her shoulders.

Their bags were placed into the back of the car and their driver set off. The fact that they had a driver was crazy. "How do you and your sister know Carlos?" She asked, settling against his side.

It was hitting her just how little she knew about him. And with every passing moment, the number of questions she had just grew.

Lando thought on his answer. It was easy for her to assume that it had been so long since they met that he didn't remember. "Our dads did business together a few years back," he answered simply.

She let out a laugh, her body gently shaking against him. "Seriously, Lan. Who the hell are you?"

Lando squeezed her shoulder. "Have you seen Legend?"

"The movie?"

He nodded his head.

"Lando, are you telling me you're a gangster?" She asked him, unable to hide the laugh about to erupt from her lips.

"No! No, but I'm essentially Ronnie Kray," he answered.

"Ronnie Kray, the gangster that sold protection to people?"

Well, that was part of that he did. "Yeah, but I'm not a gangster and everything I do is legal."

He was a fucking mystery.

***

Lando felt incredibly guilty about leaving her in the hotel room. But Hamilton had called for a meeting and, being the representative for the Norris family, he had to attend.

"I'll be gone an hour at most," Lando said as he leaned over to kiss her.

"Lan, it's fine," she said and pulled a book from her bag. "Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She called.

Lando let out a laugh. That kind of high pitched shrieking laugh that she was already in love with. "I'll try not to," he said and kissed her again.

He walked out of the hotel room as she cracked open her book.

Lando couldn't hide his smile as he climbed into the car waiting for him. It was already full of other heads of family or their representatives. Lando sat himself beside Magnussen and Perez. Max Verstappen, representing the Verstappen family, sat opposite him, with Mick Schumacher beside him.

Mick was... different. He wasn't representing the Schumacher family. But his father died before he was ready to takeover the family. The Verstappens tried to take Mick and his family in, but Schumacher had a plan in place in case of his death. He didn't want Jos looking after his family, and had instead sent them to the Wolff family.

That was who Mick was representing. His name was Schumacher, but he was representing the Wolff family.

"You brought someone?" Max asked Lando as he sat down.

Lando slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, I did," he said, not elaborating further.

"Is she... aware of what's going on?" Mick asked.

Lando sucked in a breath. "No," he answered, looking at the other representatives. "She hasn't got a clue.

Max leaned forward. "Interesting," he said, wearing a little smirk. "What did you tell her?"

"She's called me a gangster, and we're gonna leave it at that."

Max sat back in his seat, hands clasped together in his lap. "Good luck with that," he said, turning his attention to the window.

It was obvious what Max was thinking. Of course it was a bad idea to take her to a mafia wedding when she had no idea what was going on. But Lando wanted her protected from that world. The less she knew, the more protected she was. She could still get out.

Perez shook his head. "Bad idea, man," he said. "I didn't tell my wife and I almost lost her."

Lando didn't answer him.

The car pulled up outside of Sainz's house. They filled out of the car, one by one. Three more cars were already outside of the house, and it was clear they were the last ones there.

Lando walked into the house with Max. Just a few years before they would have been talking and laughing like kids while their fathers worked. But now they were the ones working in their fathers steed.

"How are you holding up?" Max asked quietly as they walked through the Sainz house.

Lando let out a breath, just grateful that Max had waited until they were out of the car to ask. He looked around the Sainz house, the house he had been in just weeks before. "She's somewhere in here," he said. "I just wanna know how she is."

They walked into the Library. Several chairs were set around a table, most of them filled. In the corner of the room was a much smaller table, a chess set on it. Lando knew exactly who had set that up.

He sat down and Max sat on his right. Alonso was on his left and the other heads of family filled the table. Carlos was there, sat beside his father.

The most commanding presence at the table was Hamilton. He gave Lando a slow nod as a drink was placed in front of him.

As soon as they all had drinks, Hamilton stood, glass in his hand. "As per tradition, we are here to celebrate the union of the Sainz family and the Norris family. The trading routes between Norris and Sainz will be reopened, benefitting all of us. Lets discuss product and trading route."

Clearing his throat, Lando stood with the speech his father had prepared for him. "This decade of war between our family has affected The Norris family and it's ability to move our product into other Spain and other European countries. This union will not only help reignite our relationship with the Sainz family, but will aid in our strengthening our relationship with the Ferrari family."

He placed the cards his father had written out for him into his pocket. "I do think it's unnecessary to involve my sister in things."

Brown eyes snapped towards him. "Hijo de puta." (Motherfucker).

Having said his piece, Lando sat down. He wasn't paying much attention as other heads of families discussed what the reopening of the trading route would do for them.

After five minutes, he stood up. He wordlessly left the room, navigating his way down the hall and into the kitchen, towards the bathroom.

But somebody was already in the kitchen. The fridge door was open as somebody, dressed in most of a fine suit, pulled cold beers from the fridge. He held them in his arms, used his elbow to shut the fridge and turned around.

He nearly dropped them when he saw Lando. "Oscar!" He called.

Oscar rushed to put the beers on the table. He threw his arms around Lando and patted his back. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you until tomorrow," he said, his hand on his shoulder.

"Hamilton called a meeting," he said.

Oscar nodded, making a mental note to keep her in her room for the night.

"How is she?"

Oscar breathed deep. "She's... coping," he said. "We're gearing up for one last fun night before the wedding." He pointed back to the beers and Lando nodded his head.

"Look after her for me, yeah?"

"I will."

Lando helped Oscar place the beers into his arms and sent him on his way.

a/n: (wow i never do these, this feels weird) Sup guys! So i mentioned the Kray twins and, for those that don't know, they were london gangsters in the 1950's (check out the film legend its soooo good). It feels like a gamble putting mention of them in here and if anybody is offended, send me an ask and I'll change it! (i purposefully didn't mention Reggie for obvious reasons)

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Series Taglist (CLOSED): @millinorrizz @cinnamongirlontv @sainzluvrr @aquangxl @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @queenofmanydreams @somepeoplemaybe @shobaes @thatsusbitch @ibanstro @sobersidedly @ririgy @barcelonaloverf1life @hotbuns13 @dinodumbass @bellezaycafe @maddie-naps @yl90 @itscrzy @dontleaveitsmyfault3 @jule239 @noneofyourfbusinessworld @annispamz @mxmtewnz @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eviethetheatrefreak @lovejunz @nervous-bee @lifelessfan @phantomxoxo @ln4norizz @ladymarvel27

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nerdy-novelist017 · 2 months ago

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Hii! I absolutely adore your benny and bunny series and I got this idea while reading one of your oneshots about them :))

Could you possibly write a oneshot about bunny sitting on bennys lap, and benny just tease bunny starts bouncing his thigh and making her squirm and such - maybe have it possibly lead to something a little more steamy? Also could it possibly be in a more public setting, like maybe at a bonfire with the club or at a meeting? I love you so much thank you for being such an amazing writer <33

Tease (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

Oh this??? Ummm I love it! Also, I definitely wrote thiis while I was ovulating so it's purely self-indulgent lol 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this so please tell me if you've enjoyed it! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.6k+

This is pretty NSFW so please don't read if you are underage!

The bonfire crackled softly, orange flames dancing in the cold night air as the club members lounged around, drinks in hand, the atmosphere relaxed and full of quiet conversation. The delicious smell of burning wood and s'mores filled the evening air enveloped you as you sat on the edge of one of the large logs that circled the fire, the warmth of the flames chasing away the chill of the night. Benny sat beside you, a cigarette dangled from between his lips, his arm casually draped around your shoulder, his presence as solid and sure as always.

The firelight cast long shadows, flickering over the faces of the members gathered, but your attention wasn’t on the conversations or the fire. It was on Benny, and the way his thumb absentmindedly brushed against the bare skin of your shoulder, leaving little sparks of warmth in their wake. You felt hyper-aware of his every touch, every soft movement, and it made your breath catch in your throat every time.

It had been a quiet and uneventful night – at least for everyone else. But sitting next to Benny, feeling the heat of his body so close to yours, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar tension simmering just beneath the surface.

Then, as if sensing your thoughts, Benny leaned in closer, his voice low and rough against your ear. “C’mere, Bunny. Come sit with me.”

Before you could respond, he gently tugged you off the log and pulled you into his lap, his strong hands guiding you with ease. Your heart fluttered at the sudden closeness, your body instinctively settling against him, your back pressed against his chest. His warmth seeped into you, his hands resting on your hips, holding you just close enough to keep you still but teasingly loose, like he was testing how far he could take this.

“You good?” he murmured, his breath mixed with the smoke from his cigarette warm against your ear, his voice holding a hint of something that sent a jolt of warmth in your belly.

Trying to ignore the quickening beat of your heart, you nodded. “Y–yeah, fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not really. Sitting on Benny’s lap, surrounded by the familiar faces, the firelight casting shadows across his features, you felt like your entire body was suddenly buzzing with awareness. His hands shifted slightly, resting more firmly on your hips, and the feeling of his palms against you was almost too much.

Benny, however, seemed completely unbothered – almost playful, in fact. He shifted the cigarette between his lips as he said, “You sure? You seem a little . . . tense.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than the warmth of Benny’s hands and the closeness of his body. Your voice wavered slightly as you repeated, “I’m fine.”

“Mh-hm,” he hummed, and without warning, his grip on your hips tightened, just enough to pull you down a little harder on his lap. His thigh shifted beneath you, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a soft gasp, your body reacting to the sudden movement.

Benny chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “That’s what I thought.”

Your face flushed with heat, but it wasn’t just from the fire. The way his thigh pressed just beneath you, the subtle movement, was enough to make you squirm and you bit your lip, trying to stay composed, especially with the others just sitting a few feet aware, completely unaware of what was happening.

Benny, of course, wasn’t done. He shifted his thigh again, just a little, just enough to make you feel the pressure in all the right places, and you couldn’t help the small, involuntary movement of your hips. The sensation was subtle, but it shot straight through you, sending your heart racing. The tension built as you felt every slight shift, every playful nudge of Benny’s thigh beneath you.

“Benny . . .” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

“What’s wrong Little Bunny?” he asked, his voice teasing as he tossed his cigarette to the grass below, successfully finding something more entertaining. “You seem a little . . . squirmy.”

You bit your lip harder, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape. Benny’s thigh bounced just slightly beneath you, a slow, deliberate movement that made it impossible for you to remain still. The teasing pressure was driving you crazy, and every time you shifted, it only made things worse.

“If you keep moving like that, I might start thinkin’ you’re enjoying yourself,” he muttered, his voice full of that playful edge you had come to know all too well, his grip on her hips shifting. Your breath hitched, and your face grew impossibly hot as you pressed your thighs together, trying to steady yourself. But Benny shifted his thigh just so that you couldn’t find relief that way.

It was torture – and yet, you didn’t want it to stop. But you were in public so he needed to stop.

“Benny, please,” you whispered, your voice holding a mix of warning, desperation and something else you didn’t quite want to admit.

“Please what?” he asked, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want, Bunny.”

Just as you were about to whisper something – anything – another voice spoke up, cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

“Bunny, you hear me?”

You snapped your head up, your eyes widening in panic as you realized someone had been talking to you. You blinked, trying to focus on the person in front of you, but it was all you could do not to feel the heat of Benny’s body pressing up against you in a way that made it impossible to think straight.

“Huh?” you stammered, your voice coming out more breathless than you intended.

Kathy, sitting a few feet away across the fire, raised an eyebrow at you. “I asked if you’re coming to the run tomorrow.”

Your face flushed even deeper with embarrassment, warmth spreading to your ears as you realized you had been caught up in what Benny was doing. You shifted slightly on his lap, trying to compose yourself. But Benny, ever the tease, took the opportunity to press his thigh even harder against you, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. Your breath hitched, and you bit down on your lip to keep from making a sound.

“I . . . I’m sorry, what?” you managed to say with a shaky breath. You tried to focus on Kathy, but it was almost impossible with the way Benny was subtly bouncing his leg beneath you, his hands holding your hips tightly in place as if daring you to try to ignore him.

Kathy squinted, clearly noticing something was off. “You okay, Bunny? You look kinda . . . flustered.”

Flustered didn’t begin to cover it.

You tried to brush off the abashment gripped you nearly as tight as Benny did . “Y–yeah, I’m fine. Just a little . . . tired, I guess.”

Kathy’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t press further. “Right. Well, I was askin’ if you’re comin’ to the run tomorrow?”

Before you could respond, Benny, still sitting silently behind you, gave a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, his thigh pressing into you in a way that made you gasp softly. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, mortified that the sound had slipped out.

Kathy raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing the sudden shift. “You sure you’re okay?”

You could barely breathe, your body squirming involuntarily as Benny continued his slow, sinful movements below. He hadn’t said a word, but you could feel the grin against your neck – the wicked, satisfied grin of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

You cleared your throat as you stammered, “Y–yeah I’m okay,” you cleared your throat as you stammered, “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Kathy gave you a long look, clearly skeptical, but before she could say anything else, one of the other members called her attention and you were left alone, still perched on Benny’s lap, still caught up in his merciless teasing.

As soon as Kathy’s attention shifted away, Benny leaned in close, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered, “Careful, Bunny. You’re making it hard to behave.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you hissed softly, a spike of irritation hitting you as you tried to pull away to find relief, but his hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place.

“Keep squirmin’ like that, and you’re gonna give us away, kid,” he said playfully, but you could hear the heat in his voice.”You’re so tense. You need to relax.”

Relax? That was impossible. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you were sure someone would hear it. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, your skin tingling under Benny’s teasing hands. His grip was tight, but his thumb lazily stroked your hip as if he wasn’t torturing you, as if he didn’t have you barely able to breathe from the tension. Every subtle shift of his thigh, every gentle grind of his hip sent jolts of desire through your entire being.

“Benny,” your voice shook as you pressed your palm down hard against his other thigh, trying to get his attention. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. “You need to stop.”

“Stop?” he repeated innocently, but his hands slid down from your hips to your thighs, his fingers brushing just beneath the hem of your skirt. The touch sent a surge through you and you jumped. “Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop.”

And you didn’t. Not in the sense of the word. You wanted him – needed him, more than your lungs need air to breathe. But you couldn’t, not here, not in front of everyone. Your mind swirled with incoherent thoughts of trying to tell him to stop and trying to tell him to keep going.

“Just tell me, Bunny,” he breathed, his hands dragging their way back up to your hips. “Just tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

“Benny,” you hissed, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your struggle. “That’s not an answer.”

Just as you were teetering on the edge, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Skipco, ever the silent observer, was glancing over at the two of you, a curious look on his face. Your heart raced, panic flooding you as you realized how close you were to being caught. If Skipco saw the way you were squirming in Benny’s lap, if he put the pieces together . . .

Your breath hitched and you froze, trying to stay perfectly slow. But Benny, ever aware of you, must have noticed the shift in your body language. Just as you were about to lose it completely, just as the heat between them reached a dangerous peak, Benny’s hands on your hips loosened.

Without warning, he stopped.

The sudden lack of movement left you breathless, heart still racing and body still buzzing with pent up tension. You blinked, trying to process what just happened, but before you could even react, Benny leaned back, his expression calm and composed as ever. He acted like nothing had happened at all.

Your breath was shallow, your body still on edge, cheeks flushed from the heat and embarrassment. You shifted slightly in his lap, attempting to catch your breath, but the sudden absence of his teasing left you feeling both relieved and strangely frustrated. You had been close – too close – and now the tension he had so expertly built up inside you had nowhere to go.

Benny, however, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He shifted beneath you, adjusting you slightly on his lap, and then – just like that – he casually jumped back into the conversation, as if nothing had happened. He joined in on the jokes being tossed around the fire, his voice calm and smooth as ever, not even a hint of the wicked teasing he’d been torturing you with just moments ago.

You sat there, still perched on his lap, body still tingling from his touch, and you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. He had stopped. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, just when you had been so close to losing your control, he had stopped. And now he was acting like it was nothing.

You wanted to be relieved – relieved that they hadn’t been caught, that Benny had goven in before anyone noticed. But at the same time, you couldn’t shake the frustration that burned inside you, the way he had left you wanted more, so close yet so far from the release that you so desperately craved.

His hand rested casually on your thigh now, no longer teasing or pushing, just a gentle, familiar touch. He smiled at something one of the others said, completely composed while you sat there still buzzing with need.

You glanced up at him, your eyes narrowing slightly in vexation. He caught your look, and just for a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small, knowing grin. That wicked, teasing grin that told you he knew exactly what he had done. Your jaw clenched as you realized he had left you like this on purpose – teasing you, pushing you, and then pulling back just when you thought you were going to break.

“You okay, Bunny?” he asked casually, his voice low but full of that damned teasing edge.

You practically glared at him, nodding as you didn’t trust your voice. You slid off his lap, your movements sharp and purposeful as you sat on the log beside him, making a point to leave a prominent space between the two of you. The cool night air was a welcome replacement to the warmth of his body. The sudden distance was a silent protest. You weren’t going to let him get away with mercilessly teasing you and then pretending nothing had happened.

His eyes flickered to you the moment you moved, and you could feel his gaze on you, but he didn’t say anything right away. You crossed your arms, leaning slightly away from him, pointedly avoiding his gaze as you focused on the fire instead.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benny smirking, his eyes dark with amusement as he watched, but he didn’t move to break the distance you created. The rest of the night felt like it dragged on forever. Every little movement, every casual comment from Benny only heightened your annoyance. He didn’t push it further, didn’t tease you overtly in front of the others, but every now and then, his hand would brush against yours or he would lean in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, and it would send your pulse fluttering all over again.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your body still humming with need, and the subtle movement didn’t go unnoticed. Benny glanced your way, his eyes flickering over you for a brief moment before he returned to his conversation. But that one look told you everything. He knew you were flustered. He knew you were still thinking about what happened. And the fact that he wasn’t saying a word, wasn’t doing anything more to help you made it so much worse.

After what felt like an eternity, the conversation began to die down, and some of the other members started to head toward their bikes, getting ready to leave. You stood up quickly, eager for the excuse to move, to shake off the tension still clinging to you. You glanced down at Benny who was still lounging in his chair, watching you with that same infuriating smirk.

“Ready to go?” you asked with a quick, barely controlled voice.

Benny raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he slowly moved to stand, stretching as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour driving you absolutely mad. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

You bit your lip, swallowing the building urge to snap at him. You turned on your heel, walking toward the truck (Benny’s bike had been in Cal’s workshop after it started giving him problems.) Your pace was quick as you tried to put some distance between him, but you could feel him behind you, following at his own leisurely pace, taking his sweet time.

When you reached the passenger door to the pickup truck, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him as he caught up. And with enough distance put between the others still mingling around the fire, your anger finally bubbled to the surface.

“Do you always have to do that?” you blurted out, your voice sharper than you intended.

He tilted his head, his smirk never fading. “Do what?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Benny Cross,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “You did it on purpose. You pushed me just far enough, then stopped.”

His grin grew at your use of his full name, and he took a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a playful tone. “I thought you liked it.”

The sensuality from the sound of his voice made you falter slightly, but you weren’t about to let him off that easily. “That’s not the point.”

“Are you mad at me, Bunny?” he asked lightly as if he found your anger amusing.

“Yes, I am,” you confirmed, shifting your stance to a more defiant one to prove your point.

“Oh,” he said, his face taking on a mock seriousness as he stepped even closer, his hands drifting to lean against the truck door, trapping you between them but not touching you. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Your heart raced again, an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. You hated him, hated how easily he could unravel you with just a few words, a few touches. But the truth was, you loved it too. As much as it frustrated you, as much as it left you feeling exposed, you craved it.

“You think you can just grin and fix everything?” you said, your voice shaky as you tried to sound firm, but the heat of his gaze was making it hard to stay mad.

Benny leaned in, close enough now for you to feel the heat radiating from his body. “Maybe not everything . . . but it seems to be working so far.”

You narrowed your eyes, attempting to hold onto your anger, but the proximity of him and the sarcastic quip of his was doing things to your resolve. He wasn’t touching you, not yet, but you could practically feel the anticipation rolling off him.

“You’re so unfair, Benny,” you muttered.

“I think you like it when I'm unfair,” he whispered, “You like it when I get you all riled up.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. He was too close now, his eyes locked onto yours as if daring you to keep fighting him. Your heart hammered in your chest as his face hovered just inches above yours. He didn’t need to touch you to have you completely undone.

“I hate it,” you breathed, but the words were unconvincing, even to you.

“No, you don’t.” Benny’s smirk widened, his breath warm against your lips.

You were trapped, and your anger had melted away, replaced by something hotter, something more urgent. And then, just as you opened your mouth to snap again, Benny’s lips barely brushed against yours, a teasing, fleeting touch that sent a jolt of heat through you. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but he pulled back before you could respond, leaving you breathless and frustrated all over again.

“Still mad?” he asked softly, his eyes roaming over your face as if he was taking in every detail like he was seeing it for the first time again.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Benny almost laughed. “Good.”

Before you could protest, he kissed you properly this time, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that robbed you of your breath once again. You gasped against his mouth, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab his shirt, pulling him closer as your body melted into his. His hands finally left the door of the truck, finding your waist and squeezing gently as the kiss grew more desperate. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was barely holding back, and it sent a thrill through you.

When he finally pulled back, you grinned up at him. You turned to the truck, opening the door with just enough force to make your point. Benny followed, slower and deliberate as he moved around to the driver’s door. Anticipation settled in your chest as you slid into the passenger seat. You knew you weren’t leaving the night behind just yet. The real teasing had only just begun.

Benny climbed into the driver’s seat, and for a moment, the silence between you was charged. His fingers tapped the steering wheel, a slow and steady rhythm as if he were biding his time. Then, without looking at you, he spoke. “We’re not done just yet, kid.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep what little cool you had left, but the way he said it – calm, teasing and oozing with confidence that drove you crazy – left you speechless. You shifted in your seat.

Benny turned his head just slightly, catching your eye with a knowing smirk. “We’ll finish this when we get home.”

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. You tried to play it off, giving a small shrug as you pretended to still be mad at him. “You better be ready for me.”

Benny laughed softly. “I’ve been ready for you all night.”

-Tag List-

@elizabeth916 @imusicaddict @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @charmingballoon @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @pao-prazz @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite

#is it hot in here?#benny is a certified tease #benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #austin butler #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler fandom #imagine #benny x reader

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citrinae · 6 months ago

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mornings with them.

contents; fluff, suggestive themes. warming up with some bite-sized headcanons. hope you guys enjoy <3

ft. the monster trio

here for part 2

⋆ ˚｡༄ luffy

if he’s up before you are, that’s only because of the growling sound coming from his stomach. cross-legged on the bed with a lost look in his eyes, “imma get something to eat.” he’s definitely forgotten about the piles of snacks he keeps in his locker and that he makes sure to restock after each meal with your crewmates.

i can see him being a cuddly type. really likes to hug you from behind. in bed, while you're standing up, while you're brushing your teeth. if you happen to be the one to wake up first, fetch him some food from the kitchen and you will earn yourself a good series of hugs from your boyfriend. if not, that's ok, because luffy is a biter too, and he will not hold back from digging his teeth into your shoulder to convince you to go to the kitchen with him. this may or may not lead to the two of you enjoying some other type of meal.

the thing is that luffy, the moment he wakes up, won't stand staying in for too long. especially if you're on land he'll want to explore the surroundings and will try to make you join him on the adventure. knowing how much of a menace he can be objectively speaking you may have no other choice but tag along, but trust me, nothing will make him happier than getting to spend the first hours of the day with his partner in crime <3

“that was so cool,” he's saying to you as your backs are glued to the wall of a random building, chests heaving. out of the corner of your eye, you can see a group of marines searching aimlessly for your missing shadows. luffy takes you by the hand, “we showed ‘em good.”

⋆ ˚｡༄ zoro

you wake up first. but you’re never getting out of bed before he would, and that’s in most cases due to the fact that the arms resting around you are too heavy to lift on your own. you tried slipping away once or twice, but he always managed to keep you there. not like you mind it one bit, nestling yourself at your boyfriend’s chest filling you with a strange sense of warmth you wouldn't let go that easily.

“easy, tiger. what’s the rush?” his voice is sleepy with a guttural undertone to it. “staying in for a minute longer won’t set the ship on fire or anything. proven.” zoro will try to make you two stay in bed with him for as long as possible. you don’t even get a chance to convince him otherwise as he’s quick to fall back into his snooze, and you are usually soon to follow. the second time you open your eyes it’s because of the voices and steps coming from the hallway telling you that you might’ve overslept.

he also likes it when you lazily climb on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, enjoying each other's presence in silence. in the morning, he may not be the best converser. but there are times his hand may roll down your back, taking a good squeeze of your butt with a smirk plastered on his face, and that's when you know you will definitely be late to your chores.

if you’re on land, he might make it a habit to carry you on his back for a morning jog, the sun unfurling behind your forms as hours roll past. if you’re more the athletic type like he is, he’d gladly have you running by his side. either way, i think starting his daily training with you would work like the perfect energiser for him. although he would never admit it out loud.

⋆ ˚｡༄ sanji

i find sanji to be quite the early bird, having to set up breakfast for the entire crew and doing some first-hour arrangements in the kitchen and all that, so he wakes up before you do. almost every time. he’s already done with more than half of his chores by the time you open your eyes. when it comes to you, however, breakfast in bed is one of the many tell-tale signs of special treatment, and more often than not you get to wake up to the smell of coffee or favourite tea and a well-thought mix of sweet treats.

corny is this man’s second language. if you’re on land, expect to see some tiny bouquets of flowers on the tray, either bought or picked from around the ship, everything looking just so dainty and perfect “like you are, my love.” one of them finds its way behind your ear with a sweet peck on your lips.

and not rarely does he join you with his own cup of tea. leg to leg, your head leaning against his shoulder. a hundred percent the type to smoke in bed. he likes to take a few moments of tenderness with you, gently kissing your shoulder and neck and talking about your plans for the day. sanji will intently listen to you talk about any weird dreams you had, but if you tell him he wasn’t present in any of them he’ll most certainly become a pouting mess.

he gets handsy quickly 💀 and your thighs are perhaps his favourite spot to feel beneath the sheets. the longer you let him he’s one step closer to skipping cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast. but the moment often shatters with some thuds at the door accompanied by luffy’s voice, all broken and teary, begging sanji to unlock the fridge.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons

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joelmillerisapunk · 6 months ago

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Beach Daddy V. Stay

daddy!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist • masterlist

wordcount: 15,628

summary: You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of passion and scandal with Joel, while a mysterious blackmailer threatens to expose your secret romance. And other drama.

warnings: 18+, age gap, just the tip unprotected 👀, dramaaaa, sweet bby Reggie 😘

notes: But that gif (from pinterest tysm to Whomever the Creator is) is exactly how Joel looks when he steps out of his car, searching. ty @saradika-graphics as always for the divider

Standing in his bedroom, after your confession to him about Todd being your ex, Joel kisses you.

He's gentle at first. Then, before you know it, you're locked together, his tongue gently teasing you to open your mouth until your lips part, and he pushes between your lips with an urgency that has your skin tingling and your core lighting on fire. His fingers set the skin of your cheek ablaze.

Your heart drums in your chest at the anticipation in the air at your closeness. You are so close that you can almost feel the sharp edges of his stubble that has dusted his face as the day grows to a close. Releasing your lips, he whispers, “I can't imagine not knowing you, darlin'.” His breath is warm against your lips. The small vibrations send waves of energy through your entire body. Goosebumps prickle your arms. The sweet smell of cinnamon on his breath, and his sandalwood cologne, mingle perfectly together.

The sensation is too much for you to bear, so you close your eyes, letting Joel take over, as you try desperately to etch every second of the moment into your memory. “I can't imagine not knowing you either, Joel,” you say breathlessly, your eyelashes fluttering with anticipation.

He presses his lips softly to yours, the heat of your lips combining. The warmth spreads through your entire body, even to your bare feet against the cold tile floor. As softly as it started, you want to feel the pressure of his strong arms around you, crushing you against his muscled torso. You lean into Joel's chest, his muscles so tight they are unmoving. He responds to you by sliding his hand up your back and pressing you to him. His lips match the sudden intensity, and you part yours, and he pulls your bottom lip between his. You hold back a moan as he softly bites your bottom lip, but you can't help your hand making their way into Joel's hair. As your fingers slip through the softness of his perfectly styled locks, the scent of sandalwood intensifies.

Before you can register the change, Joel's hand, which had started out on the side of your face, is cradling under your butt, and Joel pulls you even closer to him. You feel the thumping of his chest as your body rests against his, and you deepen your kiss. You can feel the hardness of him between your legs and pull yourself closer, unable to keep your body from satisfying your craving for him.

Time feels as though it stands still as Joel holds you to him, your hands lost in his hair. Just as quickly as it had all started, the moment shatters. His cell phone beeping is deafening against the silence of the room and breaks you out of your entangled trance. Your feet hit the floor, the cold tile shocking you back to reality. You both stand there for a moment, breathing hard, your hearts racing as you try to come back to reality.

“Darlin', I am so sorry. I lost control of myself for a second,” Joel says.

You wish he'd lose control more often.

You touch your hand to your mouth, where his lips had just been. You ache at the absence of him. He runs his hands through his already mussed hair and takes a few steps back from you. “That's okay,” you say, trying desperately to catch your breath. It takes all you have not to run back into his arms. Doesn't he sense that the feeling is mutual? You want him just as badly as he wants you. Maybe more so.

“Let me turn this off so we can talk-” Joel's face falls as he takes his phone from his pocket and reads the text message on the screen.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, watching the worry lines reappear between Joel's eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry. I have to deal with this,” he says, swiping his finger across the screen.

“I will leave you to it,” you say, walking toward the door. You need to be alone to understand what has just happened between you anyway.

What have you just done with your friend's dad?

“We will talk about this, about us, I promise,” Joel says, looking longingly into your eyes before turning back to his phone. “Bruce, what did you find out?” Joel says into the phone. That is your cue to leave.

You silently pick up your shoes next to the door and slip out into the hallway. You close the door softly, silently clicking the latch into place. You lean against Joel's door, listening to his muffled voice as he talks on the phone. Even through the door, you can tell that whatever the news is, it isn't good. Laughter sounds at the opposite end of the hall. Knowing what it would look like to come out of Joel's room, shoes in hand, you retreat away from his room and the approaching voices. The last thing you need is for Sarah to think you have slept with her father.

Your feet patter against the marble flooring in the hallway. You consider going back to your room, but you know you won't be able to sleep after the kisses you've just shared with Joel. You feel like you need to make an appearance back at the party before Sarah notices your absence at the same time that her father is gone. However, you can't seem to catch your breath, so you walk as slowly as possible back to the kitchen. You stand for a long time, watching people laughing, dancing, and raising their drinks in silent speeches you can't hear. Your mind is still too caught up in what has happened with Joel.

Eventually, you open one of the kitchen doors to the back patio, and the engagement party is still in full swing. Clearly, no one has noticed Joel and you heading into the house together. You are thankful for that, at least. You should've known you wouldn't be missed by this crowd. You spot Todd with Sarah and make sure you are out of their eyesight quickly. You grab a glass of champagne and lean against the wall by the pool looking out at the ocean. It feels like you can still feel the tingle of Joel's lips against yours. You feel good, despite the toxic situation with Todd. Joel is clearly as attracted to you as you are to him. You replay your kiss over and over in your mind. You still can't believe it's happened. Finally.

But then, what does this all mean? You still have so many questions…

You finish your drink and set the empty glass on a table, turning to walk toward the kitchen when you hear someone yell.

“Cannonball!”

A man with long brown hair splashes into the infinity pool, soaking you in the process. You watch the ripples disturb the surface of the pool and water spill out the edges. You leave quickly, before the man reemerges and retreat back inside as a wave of laughter hits your back.

“Is this whole trip taking every opportunity to slap me in the face?” you mumble to yourself, taking off your heels again as you head for the stairs. You leave a dripping trail of water all the way to your room. You can't help but remember walking into AmoreBelle in a similar state when Joel had bought you the dress in the first place.

You hang your cocktail dress to dry in the shower, hoping that it isn't ruined. Maybe you will send it to the dry cleaners when you return to New York. You have no idea how to care for a dress so nice. You know if you try to clean it yourself, you are sure to ruin it. The smell of chlorine that clings to your skin nudges you toward the pedestal bathtub at the far end of the bathroom. You turn on the tap and let the steam from the hot water fill the room. You grab a glass of water and turn on some music. Slipping inside the warm embrace of the water, you are instantly taken back to the heat of Joel's body pressed to yours. Your lips press delicately against his. The feel of your body wound tightly around his. The way he smelled. He was intoxicating. You can't believe you've just kissed Joel. You've thought about it a few dozen times, always talking yourself out of it because he is your friend's father, but no amount of imagination could compare to those few blissful minutes. He was so much more than you'd imagined.

A text flashes on your phone, which you've set on a towel next to the tub. You dry your hands and pick up your phone to find a text from Lin waiting for you.

Lin: There was a last-minute cancellation on a flight out tomorrow. Do you want us to change your booking for you? I can still meet you at the airport to pick you up. Let us know ASAP.

This afternoon you would have texted Lin back instantly, begging for her to get you on the soonest flight out of here. However, that was before your shared moment with Joel. Even with Todd being here and constantly trying to get you to sleep with him, you don't know if you want to leave. “What would he think if I jetted off the day after we kissed?” you ask the ceiling of the bathroom.

You sink lower, covering half of your face in the warm water. The water has completely cooled when you've finally made up your mind. You drain it out of the tub, and with pruny fingers, type out a response to Lin.

You: I need one more day. Something big happened. I will explain everything when I get back. See you in two days.

You can't leave yet. You've just let Joel know how much he's come to mean to you. How can you leave now? You've wanted this for longer than you've let yourself admit. You've wanted this since the first time you saw him. You have to see Joel one more time before you leave. If you leave now, you'll never know what might happen between you. You're not willing to risk that, not to escape Todd or Sarah's wealthy friends. You have to talk to Joel; you have to know what this is.

"Bruce. What did you find out?" Joel asks the head of his security team, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he feels inside.

"We have reason to believe that Blaine knows your current location in the Bahamas, sir," Bruce's voice echoes on the other end of the phone.

Joel looks up when the door clicks shut; you've slipped away during his eagerness to call Bruce. He feels like a complete ass. He kissed you, and then, mere seconds later, he was on the phone, his attention elsewhere.

"Sir?" Bruce's voice pulls Joel back to the present.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. What did you say?"

"We are worried about your security measures in the Bahamas. You have no one with you from the team. Please tell me you have been activating the security system we had installed."

Joel has completely forgotten about the security system in the rush of preparing for Sarah's engagement party. He'll have to remember to set that after they get off the phone.

"How do you know that Blaine knows where we are?" Joel asks, his mind already racing with the implications.

Seconds later, his phone buzzes against his ear. Joel puts Bruce on speaker so that he can read the incoming messages. He's sent him multiple screenshots of Sarah's social media pages. There are at least ten posts in the last three days, all pictures of her on the beach or lounging out on the yacht. In the last message is a picture of the Bahama beach house with the caption "Engagement Party at Daddy's!"

"Shit," Joel mutters under his breath.

"She has been documenting her every move, and in turn, documenting yours as well."

"I should have known she would be posting. She never stops."

"It would be wise, sir, to advise your daughter to stop posting, at least for the time being."

"That, unfortunately, won’t happen. Sarah has made social media her career. She will never agree to stop posting."

"Even if it is putting you and your entire family at risk?"

"She doesn't know about Blaine, and it's going to stay that way," Joel says bluntly.

"Of course, sir."

"What do you suggest I do?" Joel asks, his mind already half-focused on finding you.

"Is it possible to head to a new destination? We may have caught this early enough that you can leave before Blaine finds a way to get to the Bahamas."

"I’ll see what I can do. I likely won't be able to make that kind of arrangement, though. I have a house full of guests at the moment."

"I understand, sir. Should I send a few members of my team to you?"

"I really don't think that is necessary," Joel says, hating the idea of having any of his bodyguards follow him everywhere while he's on vacation. He gets enough of that at home. He also selfishly knows that he and you likely wouldn't get another moment alone if he agreed.

"I wish you'd let us send someone out just to watch the perimeter at least," Bruce says with a sigh. "I'm just a call away if you change your mind. I'll have some of my men on standby."

"Thank you, Bruce. I will let you know." Joel hangs up the phone and resumes pacing his bedroom. It feels excruciatingly empty after you left. He starts to make his way towards the door to go and find you when his phone rings again.

"Alester," he says, answering the call.

"Good evening, sir. I am so sorry to bother you during your daughter's engagement party," Alester says.

"Alester, you know I am never too busy to talk to you," Joel says with a laugh. No one knows better than Alester just how much of a lie that is. He is always too busy.

"I just got off the phone with the security team. Have you talked with Bruce yet?"

"Yes, I actually just got off the phone with him."

"Oh, good, then you probably know more than I do. I just wanted to call and assure you that your accounts have all been secured. I also went over your father's will again with a fine tooth comb, and it is just as I expected, airtight."

"Thank you, Alester. That brings me a lot of peace of mind."

"Just be careful, Joel. It sounds like Blaine will stop at nothing to bring down the Millers."

"Honestly, it would be a waste for him to come here. I have nothing on me of any value to him. He would be smarter to wait until I am back in New York. If he does show up here, there is nothing he can take from me."

"Just be careful, sir. If Blaine realizes that he won't be able to get money, he will likely go after something else."

"What could he possibly go after, other than my money?" Joel asks, curious as to what Alester is referring to.

"Your reputation," Alester says with obvious anxiety in his voice.

"You make a good point, Alester. This is exactly why I depend on you so much. I will be on high alert."

"Take care, Joel."

Joel hangs up the phone and tosses it onto his bed, not wanting to deal with anything more for the rest of the night. The soft thump of the phone on the mattress breaks the silence of the very empty room.

The realization that you had left, and that he had let you, hits him in the stomach. Joel places his palms over his eyes, and the first thing that comes to mind is you and your kiss. The memory of your eyelids as they delicately fluttered shut right before his lips met yours. He can almost feel the heat of your body pressed up against his and the perfect curve of your ass as he pulled you up to him. He needs to find you. You'd told him your truth about Todd, and now it was his turn to tell you his truth. He needs to explain that it was his bastard brother who ruined their moment.

Your touch must have addled his brain; it was the only logical explanation he could find as to why he would let you walk out of his room. How could he have let you walk away, especially after a kiss like that? Joel is desperate to find you and makes his way out of his room and down the hallway, even knowing his hair is in a state of disarray. He can't waste time fixing it; he also doesn't want to mess with your handiwork.

He makes his way back to the party, hoping that you had come back there. He scans the sea of drunken people, searching for you. A flash of red gets his hopes up, but they quickly fall as the woman turns around. The red-haired woman does not hold a candle to you.

"Daddy!" Sarah squeals, catching sight of him.

"Sarah, sweetheart. Are you having a nice time?" Joel says as he tries to seem as interested as he can. Even though he is desperate to cut the conversation short and find you. He knows the longer he lets their moment pass, the harder it will be to get it back.

"It is absolutely amazing, Daddy. Have you tried the Sarah lemon drop?" she asks, but she shoves a drink into his hand, not waiting for his response. The next thing he knows she is hitting the side of his glass with a fork, getting the crowd's attention. "My Daddy, who was sweet enough to throw this amazing party for me and my fiance, would like to give a speech in our honor," Sarah says, her voice raised to the entire crowd.

Nothing quite like being put on the spot. However, Joel knows that if Sarah wants it, she will stop at nothing to get it. He can't help but wonder if his daughter had purposely set her sights on Todd, knowing he was not single. Sadly, he knows better than to think she isn't capable of such a thing.

"Thank you, Sarah, for that wonderful introduction. I would like to welcome you all to my home and thank you for taking the time to celebrate my beautiful daughter and her future husband," Joel says, holding his glass up to the couple, and the crowd follows, raising their drinks too. He can't think of anything complimentary to say about Todd, so he decides to focus on the good aspects of his daughter's character. However, that proves to be more difficult than he had originally thought. "Sarah has always known how to get exactly what she wants." Shit, that sounded harsh. "So I know that because she has put her heart into having a happy marriage, that is exactly what will happen for her. I wish all the best to my one and only daughter." The crowd claps at the wrap-up of his speech, and Joel hopes he has pulled it off without upsetting Sarah.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Sarah says, pecking a small kiss on his cheek. He guesses he hadn't blundered too badly.

"Where is Todd?" Joel asks Sarah, surprised to see that he is not by her side.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I've been having so much fun, I lost track of him," Sarah says with a shrug, not seeming worried.

"Well, let me know if you need anything, sweetheart, but I think I’m going to turn in for the night. I'm not young enough to keep up with you and your friends."

"One more thing before you go. We need to discuss the budget for my wedding. I need to contact this wedding dress designer if I am going to get one of their dresses in time, but it is a fifty-thousand dollar deposit to hold my spot."

Not wanting to get into a conversation about wedding budgets when he desperately needs to find you, Joel tells Sarah, "Whatever you need, honey."

Sarah squeals her usual high-pitched, bird-scaring squeak, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"We can discuss the details later," Joel says and walks back inside. He looks around and is relieved that the house seems to be empty, so he makes his way up to the second floor and your door.

He knocks quietly, but there is no response.

"Damn it," Joel says, fearing you are ignoring him on purpose.

He presses his ear to the door and hears running water, and he guesses that you are taking a bath. He wishes he could be in there with you, feeling your naked body against his. He sighs and pulls out a piece of gum, popping it in his mouth and pulling a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

On the small bit of hope that you aren't ignoring him but simply can't hear him, Joel writes a note on the gum wrapper and slips it under your door.

I can't stop thinking about you or that kiss. I will find you tomorrow, so we can talk.

-J.

You wake up on top of the king-sized bed in your cotton robe, having apparently fallen asleep right after getting out of the tub the night before. You didn't even make it under the covers. Your stomach growls, prompting you to get up and pull yourself together.

After applying some light makeup, you select a strappy sundress from your new vacation wardrobe and head for the door. Your bare feet come into contact with a slip of paper someone has slid under your door at some point during the night. Even without recognizing the neat handwriting from his previous note, you know it's from Joel. You can't help but smile at the thought of being on his mind. You carefully place the note with the other and the small pink seashell before making your way down to the kitchen.

The house is completely silent; everyone is probably still in bed, nursing a hangover. You're glad that you'll get to spend the morning by yourself. It gives you plenty of time to wrap your head around your own feelings. You quietly navigate the kitchen and make yourself an omelet. It feels nice to fend for yourself for a meal rather than having it brought to you on a silver platter. While some aspects of this life are extremely appealing, there's something fulfilling about making your own meal. You plate the omelet and find a quiet spot on the patio to watch the waves as you enjoy your breakfast in silence. As you take the last bite, you hear a clatter of moving dishes behind you, signaling that others are up, so you leave your plate and walk towards the private beach. You've already explored your way down toward the gazebo, so you decide to venture in the opposite direction instead. The chirps of birds are your only company on your walk down the beach, and slowly the sand leads you to a secluded cove surrounded by pine trees and rocky ledges.

The water is still and so clear you can see the schools of brightly colored fish swimming beneath the surface. You wade into the water to your ankles, but on a whim, you take a quick look around to make sure you're alone before slipping the dress from your shoulders and throwing it onto the dry sand, followed by your lace bra and panties. You slip slowly under the water's surface, and the fish scatter around you. You swim lazily through the water, daydreaming about Joel. You can't wait to talk to him later, and hopefully to kiss him again.

"You're braver than you look."

You jump and move to cover yourself before realizing who it is. Joel stands on the beach watching you tread water, clearly enjoying the view.

"What are you doing here? I thought I was alone," you say, trying your best to hide yourself under the water.

"I saw footsteps in the sand on the beach; I assumed you would be the only one up already. So I took a chance and followed them. I didn't expect to find you like this, though," Joel says with a small laugh and a mischievous grin.

He turns around to give you privacy, likely thinking you'll get out of the water and get dressed. Instead, you swim up to where he stands at the edge of the water and splash him. He leaps forward and turns around again, a smile finding his lips.

"Are you going to be brave?" you taunt, not knowing what's gotten into you that day. You swim backward, daring him to come after you.

Joel slowly unbuttons his shirt and slips off his perfectly fitting shorts until he's standing there with nothing on but the wind at his back. You can't help but stare at him standing naked on the shore. He follows you into the water, although less gracefully.

"What did you want to talk about?" you ask as Joel stops a few feet from you, treading water. It's hard to keep your eyes on his face and not let them wander down to his manhood.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I ruined last night," Joel says.

"What do you mean ruined? I was just hoping everything was alright. I saw the worry on your face. Something big must have happened."

"Wow, I did not expect you to react that way. What do you mean you could see the worry on my face? Am I that transparent?"

"No, I don't think you are transparent. I just noticed the crease you get between your eyebrows when you're worried. You got the same one when you were asking me about my past with…" You trail off, not wanting to bring up your ex at this moment. Joel takes the cue and does not push the matter any further, gracefully changing the subject.

"I'm glad I didn't ruin everything," Joel says softly, looking at you. He looks at you with unadulterated desire.

"Why is that?" you ask.

"Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to kiss you again."

Joel smiles and inches closer to you in the water. You can't help but notice his eyes roaming up and down your body.

"Should we, though?"

"Do you have a reason we shouldn't?" Joel asks, the crease between his eyebrows appearing again. He stops just short of touching you, but you feel like you can still feel him. The current between you is electric.

"What about Sarah?" you say, trying to keep control of yourself. Just being this close to him, naked, makes you feel breathless and excited.

“You only need to worry about what you want. It shouldn't matter to Sarah what happens between us, and if it does, I will handle it."

You take a deep breath and look at Joel's questioning eyes. You know he's right. You always worry more about other people's happiness than your own. At some point, you're going to have to choose you. Aubrey and Lin have sent so many text messages telling you to go for it with Joel. They obviously don't think it's a problem to date Sarah's dad. So why should you?

"I want you to kiss me again," you say shyly. "I want… more. I want you."

Joel closes the distance between you and pulls you into him. Your naked bodies connect under the water, and the smoothness of your skin together electrifies the water around you. The softness from the kiss the night before has all but faded into the passionate urgency of your kisses in the water. You wrap your legs around his waist, loving the way your bare bodies feel against each other.

Joel moves from kissing your mouth to kissing down your neck. You can feel his desire, hard against your leg, and you can't deny that you want him just as badly.

"Are you sure you want this?" Joel pants between kisses on your neck, moving back up toward your mouth.

"Yes, Joel, don't stop." you moan in a breathless whisper.

"Do you still want more?" His voice catches in his throat, and you can hear the longing in each word.

"Yes," you whisper into Joel's ear before biting it gently.

Just as you start to feel him slipping inside you, a tree branch cracks, snapping your attention to a man holding a camera pointed directly at you. You grab onto Joel and say urgently, "Joel, there's a man taking pictures of us!"

Joel turns his head, clearly seeing the man with the camera. "Shit! Stay behind me. I'll get you out of this."

Joel uses his body to cover yours, and you bury your face into his neck, praying the man hasn't already gotten a picture of your face. Joel swims for a group of rocks, hiding you both behind them.

"You stay right here, and I will go handle this," Joel says.

You latch onto one of the rocks, and Joel, sliding on his shorts, takes off in the cameraman's direction. They both disappear from your view in the dense vegetation and palm trees. Hot tears stream down your face, mixing with the salt water. You swim over to the beach and slip your dress back on before the cameraman can return. The fabric clings to your still-wet body, a feeling you absolutely hate. However, the feeling of safety the dress brings you is worth being uncomfortable. How could you have forgotten that Joel is not only your friend's dad but he is also, in his own right, a famous businessman? It's easy to forget that the man is worth billions because he is so kind and generous, especially toward you. As your heart slows, your stomach rolls with dread. That man was likely with a magazine that would publish those pictures for the entire world to see. Pictures of you about to have sex with Sarah's dad. You can already imagine the headlines and articles that would follow the scandalous pictures. There would be no way to face Sarah after she saw pictures of you naked and kissing her father. If your identity got out, you could possibly lose your spot at Harvard, and you could kiss the job at the law firm goodbye too.

You finish getting dressed and then walk back to the mansion on your own, knowing you can't face Joel after the trouble you've just caused. You'll lock yourself in your room until you can sneak away to your flight tomorrow.

You keep looking over your shoulder and scanning the surrounding areas for people as you walk back. Once in your room, you lean your back against the door. You and Joel had almost had sex. You smile to yourself, no longer trying to deny how good he makes you feel. The thought of facing him after this scares you, but you desperately want to finish what you've started. You slide your dress off and get in the shower to wash off the sand, then snuggle into the robe Joel gave you, drinking in his scent. You just wish things could have ended differently between Joel and you. If that was the only time you were ever going to be in his arms, you don't want it to be tainted by the intruder with the camera. You want to remember the two of you together, wrapped in each other's arms, focusing on how amazing you make each other feel. Hot tears slide down your cheeks. You'd known this was a bad idea, that you shouldn't get involved with your friend's dad, even if Sarah wasn't the nicest person, even if she was unknowingly marrying your ex.

Going home can't erase what you've already done, but it can prevent anything worse from happening. You'll miss Joel, but leaving is for the best. You know that now - for certain.

Your eyes burn from all the crying you did the night before. You've spent the whole day in your room, and you've barely slept, worrying about how many magazines will have the picture of you and Joel on the cover tomorrow and thinking about your decision to leave. You just hope you'll be able to make it home before the media catches hold of the story. You want to be as far away from Sarah as possible when she gets ahold of the picture.

You text Lin, telling her to confirm the flight for the next day, and you wonder how you'll even get there. Flying commercial means you can't use the private airstrip. Maybe Reggie will be able to help you. Or Brenna. Now more than ever, you want to escape this vacation. You've gone to the bathroom and started the shower, filling the room with steam, when you hear urgent knocking on your door. Your heart sinks, knowing Joel would never knock so frantically on your door; the only other person it could be is Sarah. She must have already seen the picture. You turn off the shower and wrap yourself in your robe before taking your death march to the door. You swing it open to find Sarah standing there with mascara-stained tears running down each cheek.

"Hey," Sarah sobs and cups her mouth with one of her hands.

"Sarah, I am…" But before you can start apologizing, Sarah wraps you in a hug and starts crying into your shoulder. You stand there, stunned and confused.

You figure Sarah has come up here to kick you out of her father's house and end your friendship. After a few seconds, you wrap your arms around her and pat her back.

"Sarah, what is going on?" you ask, still confused but selfishly relieved.

"I caught Todd with another woman last night!" Sarah gasps, her body shaking with sobs.

"Oh, Sarah," you say in a sympathetic tone. You want to call Todd every horrible name you can think of, but you know that won't help right now. That comes later in the breakup, as you're all too familiar with because of Todd.

You pull back from Sarah, and with your arm around her shoulder, lead her to one of the small couches in the room's sitting area. You pull out your phone and send a quick text to the maid, Brenna.

You: SOS! Sarah is having a breakdown in my room. Could you have someone send up some coffee (for me) and tissues (for Sarah)?

Brenna: On it! I'll be there soon. Hang in there.

"Who are you texting? I need your undivided attention right now!" Sarah says, shooting you a dirty look.

"I texted one of the maids; I'm having her bring up some stuff for you," you say, trying to stay calm at Sarah's outburst at you. It's probably just because she's so upset.

"Oh, that's fine, I guess."

"Sarah, tell me what happened," you say.

"Last night, Todd didn't come back to our room. I was worried about him, so I started looking through the entire house for him. I couldn't find him anywhere, so I went outside, figuring he might have gone for a walk on the beach to calm down after our fight."

"What did you two fight about?"

"Well, the first day we got here, I picked up his phone while he was in the shower, and he had a text from an unknown number. The text said, 'I miss you.'"

"Sarah, that could have been from someone in his family," you say. You can't believe you're standing up for Todd. You know exactly the kind of man he is, but seeing Sarah so upset makes you want to protect her feelings.

"That's what I figured until he got out of the shower. He saw me holding his phone and got super defensive about it. Last night, I brought it up again because we never actually got to the bottom of it because he distracted me by biting my…"

"Anyway!" you interrupt, not wanting to hear where that story is going to go.

"Anyway, we fought about it again last night. He told me I was being paranoid," Sarah says with a big sniff.

Just in time, a knock sounds on your door, and you rush to get it. Brenna carries in a tray with a pot of coffee, two mugs, some expensive-looking tissues, and a box of chocolates. That Brenna is a smart one. You quietly thank her, and she nods, smiling at you as if to say, 'good luck.' You hand Sarah a tissue, and she dabs at her dripping nose.

"I'm sorry. Look at me; I'm a mess."

"Don't worry about it, Sarah; we can get you cleaned up after you feel better."

You pour a cup of coffee and hand it to Sarah. "What did you say when he told you you were being paranoid?" you ask.

"I told him I had every right to be paranoid with the way he was acting, but then I took it too far and said I should have known he would cheat again."

"What?!" You're about to take a sip of your own coffee, but you hold it frozen in midair.

"Oh, he hasn't cheated on me before," Sarah says, not understanding why her statement shocks you.

"He had some girlfriend when we met, and it took him a while after we started sleeping together for him to end it finally. Anyway, so I went outside to look for him and found him rolling around in the sand with some girl."

"You can't be serious," you say, and the edges of your vision turn red.

"I am serious; I was horrified. She wasn't even that pretty! You could totally tell her boobs were fake."

"No, Sarah, not that, you knew he had a girlfriend, and you hooked up with him anyway?"

"I am not the bad guy here; that slut on the beach is! Whose friend are you anyway?" Sarah says angrily.

"I thought you were my friend, Sarah." The words are coming out of your mouth before you can stop them. "It was me that Todd was cheating on!" you yell, letting the secret finally slip out.

Sarah stares at you in disbelief and then starts laughing. "Todd would never date someone like you," she says, still giggling through her tears.

It seems like she really thinks you're telling a joke, but her responding by putting you down is infuriating. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sarah? We dated for three years, so he must have been attracted to me at one point," you say defensively.

"I know you are trying to cheer me up, girl, but I need real advice right now, not just laughs."

"I am not lying to you, Sarah," you say and pull out your phone, swiping through countless pictures of Todd and you when you were happy, or at least when you thought you were happy. You show Sarah a picture of Todd and you at a coffee shop in New York, and Todd is kissing you on the cheek.

"Oh, my God -"

"I told you, Sarah, we really did date for three years. Todd is a cheater. Trust me, I know breakups are hard, but you are going to be so much better off without him."

"I never said anything about breaking up with him," Sarah says. You're surprised that she's now the one being defensive.

"Sarah, you just caught him fucking with another woman, and you're going to stay with him."

"I am not leaving him for a little slip-up," she responds. Your mouth drops open. You can't believe that she considers cheating just a slip-up. "I can't believe Todd would stoop so low." Sarah stands and looks out the windows after glancing at you with contempt.

"Exactly what I was saying. He isn't worth it." You say, relieved that Sarah is coming around.

"No, I can't believe he stooped so low by dating you. He is completely out of your league." Sarah turns to look at you; anger etched in her features.

"Ouch, Sarah. I know you’re hurting, but I am just trying to help. You don't have to take your anger at Todd out on me," you say.

"Well, you're not helping. You are a complete embarrassment. I don't need a reminder of my fiance's poor judgment hanging around. I think it would be best if you left. You've been such a bummer the whole time anyway."

"Get out of my room," you say in a low voice. It takes everything you have not to scream at her. Your hands are trembling with anger.

"This is my dad's house. You are the one who needs to leave," she crosses her arms as though she's planning on waiting for you to pack your bags.

You stand up and glare daggers at her. "Get the fuck out of my room!"

"Fine, but I want you gone. I don't want to see you ever again!" Sarah quickly makes her way across the room.

"The feeling is mutual!" you shout, and Sarah slams the door closed. The tears start flowing again. You've cried on this trip more than you have in your entire college career, except for maybe when Todd first cheated on you, and that was really saying something. You're going to need some serious therapy for what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation.

You go back to the shower and let the water wash away the tears. You get out and are surprised that Sarah has not sent her mother upstairs to attempt to kick you out. You throw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Then, you wheel your suitcase out of the closet and throw it onto your bed. With a lack of energy, you shove everything you have with you into the empty container haphazardly.

You take one last look around the beautiful bedroom and out at the amazing view of the ocean. It's a shame that you didn't get to enjoy the balcony off of your bedroom. This entire vacation ended up being more trouble than it was worth, except for Joel. You would have done it all over again, just to spend more time with him.

You slip his two notes into your back pocket and hold the little pink shell in your palm, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to let Joel go. You set the little pink shell back on the nightstand. You hope he'll find it and know what he meant to you on this trip.

The wheels of your suitcase get stuck in the gravel at the end of the driveway. You sigh and pull harder, having no idea how you're going to get to the airport from here. The suitcase is too heavy; it's crammed full of all the clothes Joel bought for you.

You realize you haven't thought your escape plan through. You didn't want to do the messy goodbyes with anyone in the house, and you figured you would be able to find a taxi eventually, but your first priority is to get as far away from the mansion as possible.

However, it seems you're going to be stuck at the end of the driveway forever.

The crunching gravel surprises you, and you turn around; just as a black Cadillac pulls up in front of you. The window rolls down, and you're relieved to see Reggie sitting in the driver's seat.

“What are you doing?” Reggie asks you as he takes off his sunglasses. He looks so confused at you standing there, suitcase stuck in the rocks.

“Um. I'm trying to get to the airport. I have a flight in a couple of hours,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. You don't want to tell him the truth, but you figure it's better to be upfront with him. Besides, he's one of the few people at the house you know for certain you can trust. And he obviously has a car.

“Did you plan on walking all the way there?” he asks through the window.

“Maybe not my best idea,” you say and look back at the mansion. You hope no one is watching. You have to have the record for the worst escape attempt. “I was hoping to catch a cab or something, but I'm guessing this isn't the best place for that.” You look around and don't see or hear another vehicle.

Reggie gets out of the car and comes around to you. He grabs your bag without another word and puts it in the trunk. He returns to open the passenger door for you. “Well, I'm not letting you walk. Get in; I'll drive you,” Reggie says with a crestfallen smile.

You hesitate, not sure what his expression is meant to convey. Should you just try your luck with a cab after all?

Seeing your lack of commitment, Reggie grabs your hand to help you into the car. Finally accepting the situation, you slide into the passenger seat and feel your body sink into the expensive leather. You're starting to understand how people could get used to this amount of luxury in their daily lives. But you can't get used to it–you're leaving. Who knows when you might experience this type of lifestyle again? Not until you earn it for yourself as a lawyer, most likely.

Reggie closes the door behind you and returns to the driver's side, and starts down the narrow, winding driveway. You can't help but look back for one last time at the colonial-style mansion. In a few days, you're sure it will feel like a dream that you were ever here at all. “Why didn't you just ask for a ride to the airport? Joel would have sent for a car; he probably would have even driven you himself.” Reggie's tone is more questioning than it would've been if he didn't have a hint that something was going on between Joel and you.

“I didn't want to bother anyone.” That's the truth–more or less.

“You couldn't possibly bother anyone.”

You sit in silence as you pass rows of beautiful mansions along the shore. You keep seeing Reggie glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You know he's wondering why you're leaving so hastily. As you drive further inland, the mansions get smaller and smaller until they turn into charming bungalows. Each bungalow is painted in a pop of color.

“When you say you didn't want to bother anyone, you really meant you didn't want to say goodbye, didn't you?”

“How did you know?” you ask, surprised he's picked up on that.

“You seem upset, and the fact that you were so ready to leave that you were going to drag your suitcase all the way to the airport. I just put two and two together.”

“You're right; I didn't want to say goodbye.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Reggie asks, looking over at you directly this time as you come to a stop at an intersection.

“Not really. Sarah and I just got into a fight. She told me she wanted me out of the house.”

“Oh, I thought it might have something to do with you and Joel,” Reggie says as the car accelerates again.

You don't know how to respond to Reggie, so you opt to say nothing instead. The truth is, you don't know how to say goodbye to Joel after all that's happened. How do you thank someone for a beautiful vacation, stolen moments of happiness, and a whirlwind romance while also apologizing for causing a scandal? You ride the rest of the short drive without talking more. You're thankful that Reggie doesn't press you for more answers. And you find you can't stop daydreaming about Joel. You want to kiss him again and finish what you'd started in the water that day. You know you shouldn't, and that you probably won't get the chance. But that doesn't stop the longing one bit.

You pull up to the airport, which is tiny. You guessed you should have expected it to be small, considering you're on an island. Reggie gets out and gets your bag for you. You stand awkwardly on the sidewalk next to the car. “Thank you for driving me, and thank you for being a friend to me,” you say as Reggie hands you the handle of your bag.

“I hope you really mean that. I would consider myself lucky to be counted as one of your friends.”

You lean over and give Reggie a small hug, “I really mean it, Reggie.”

He grabs your hand before you pull away, leaving a business card in your palm. “Please reach out if you need anything from me. We will all be back in New York again in a few weeks. I would love to see you when we make it back,” he says, with a puppy dog look in his eyes.

You nod and put Reggie's business card in your back pocket, next to Joel's notes. You give Reggie a small wave and turn away from him as you walk into the airport. Why couldn't you have fallen for someone like Reggie? That would have made the whole trip a lot less complicated.

After going through security, you look at the time on your phone; you have a whole hour to fill before your flight leaves, and there isn't much to do in such a tiny airport. You slip a crumpled bill into the vending machine and select a lemon-lime soda. It isn't quite the same as getting a latte from an airport cafe, but it will have to do. You select a hard plastic chair next to the terminal and pull out your phone to wait.

You: I made it to the airport! It is absolutely tiny. I have about an hour until my flight leaves, and then three more on the plane. I can't wait to be back home.

Lin: I will be there to pick you up when you land.

Aubrey: We can't wait to see you!

You: I owe you both so much for this. I am taking you two out for drinks as soon as I sleep off this nightmare of a vacation.

Lin: You could pay me back by packing the rest of my stuff in the apartment.

You: Lin, we are moving in less than two weeks! Get on it!

Aubrey: I have been telling her that the entire time you've been gone, but she decided that binging rom-coms is a better use of her time.

Lin: I still think my logic is sound.

You: Save some of those rom-coms for when I get back. I need something to ball my eyes out over.

Aubrey: What happened with Joel? Did things end badly?

You: Beyond badly. I don't want to get into it over text, so I will tell you both all about it when I land.

Lin: I am so sorry girl. I'll make a stop for some ice cream before I come to get you.

Aubrey: Does this require more than ice cream? Maybe Margaritas?

You: I love you two so much! I can't wait to see you. It looks like they are finally going to let me board the plane. I will see you both soon.

You hand the flight attendant your ticket, and she directs you to your seat. You get settled in by the window and gaze out at the scene of swaying palm trees and the blue ocean in the distance. Part of you wishes you could have stayed and enjoyed a few more days in this gorgeous place. You likely wouldn't have the time or money to come back in a long time.

Your phone vibrates against the seat; you expect a last-minute text from Lin or Aubrey, but an unknown number flashes across your screen. Is it Joel? Has he finally found out you left without saying a proper goodbye? You open the message to find the picture of Joel and you in the cove. Your heart stops beating against your chest. You zoom in and are slightly relieved that your face is more than half covered by your hair. It would be hard for someone who didn't know you to find your identity with this picture. However, anyone who was with you on the yacht would know exactly whose vibrant-colored hair was in the picture. Sarah would know immediately what had happened, well, technically almost happened, between her dad and you.

“Ma'am, I am going to have to ask you to turn your phone off for the duration of the flight,” the flight attendant says as she walks down the center aisle.

“Of course,” you respond in a shaky voice.

You hold the power button and watch the screen go black, taking the picture into blackness. You wish it would disappear altogether, but you know it will be there as soon as you turn your phone back on.

“Is this your first time flying?” the flight attendant asks. She must have mistaken your shock for a fear of flying.

“Yes,” you offer meekly, not wanting to explain.

“Well, don't worry. Everything will be okay. We will be back on the ground before you know it.”

“Everything will not be okay,” you mumble as she walks away.

—

Joel rolls over in bed; the glare of the sun from the window streams across his face, pulling him from some much-needed sleep. He can't stop thinking about what had happened with you on the beach. He wants to talk to you, to see if you're okay, but he hasn't seen you since the incident. His mind goes over it, reliving every aspect in vivid color....

"Joel, there's a man taking pictures of us!" you had squealed.

He had turned his head, and sure enough, a man was standing on the rocky outcrop hanging over the cove. "Shit! Stay behind me, you. I'll get you out of this," he had said, protectively shifting your body behind his. You had buried your face in his neck, and he could feel your nervous heartbeat against his chest. He had been so foolish to pull you into this mess. He knew instinctively that this was Blaine's doing.

He should have accepted the extra security when Bruce suggested it.

He had swum for a group of rocks as fast as he could. His summer spent in the ocean made him a stronger swimmer than usual, thankfully. He had reached for the rocks and strategically placed you behind them, out of the cameraman's view. He could see the fear on your face as you grabbed onto one of the smaller rocks. "You stay right here, and I will go handle this," he had said. You had nodded weakly at him, and he had swum hard for the beach.

He had looked up and saw the photographer frantically packing up his tripod and camera equipment. Had he been waiting for them? How could he have possibly known about this secluded spot? He must have been following him and set up his equipment after watching him strip down on the beach. He had grabbed his clothes and made a beeline for the thick vegetation below the man. He had thrown on his clothes haphazardly before starting to climb up the rocks. Once he had reached the top, the dust was barely settling. The man must have run for it when he realized Joel was coming after him. He had debated on going back for you, but he figured he was not far behind the photographer. He could do more damage control if he caught up with him. Men are easily persuaded by money, and he knew with a big enough bribe, he could buy the pictures back. The only problem was he would have had to find the man first. The man's footprints had been plain to see in the sandy earth, so he had taken off running after him. Eventually, the sand had faded into a dirt road. He had been scared he'd lost him when he noticed fresh tire tracks in the dirt; the guy must have taken off fast to leave such obvious divots in the ground. He had followed the tire tracks, but when the dirt connected with the main road, he had lost him. Not ready to give up, he had spent hours searching the surrounding area and asking the few people he had run into if they had seen someone speed out of the area. He had gotten nothing. The guy was a ghost.

When he had returned to the cove, it was illuminated by the stars, and you were long gone. He had returned to the house well after dark; he hadn't wanted to wake you up, so he had returned to his own room, where he showered off the mud and the grime. As soon as he hit the bed, he had fallen into a deep sleep, completely exhausted from the unsuccessful chase. His body still feels sluggish this morning, but he forces himself to get up; he needs to check on you to make sure you're alright. He doesn't know how he's going to break it to you that he hadn't been able to track down the man with the camera.

He grabs his phone off of the nightstand, surprised to see that he has slept late into the afternoon. He has several messages and emails that need his attention. He opens his messages and has an image from an unknown number; he already knows the picture he will see before he opens it. But he opens it anyway. He has to see exactly how bad the situation is. He is relieved that your face is covered by your hair and that you are hidden behind his body. That will help protect you. He can handle a little public scrutiny, but it could be career-ending for you if the public got ahold of your name. He types out a quick message, seething with every letter he types into the phone.

Joel: What the fuck do you want?

Unknown: One million or this picture will be sent to every gossip tabloid.

Joel: Do you really want to play that game with me? I know it is you, Blaine. You are going down a very dangerous path.

Unknown: I need the money, or the picture will be leaked at midnight. I think it is you that is playing a dangerous game, Joel.

Joel: Leak the picture, Blaine. You are not worth my time.

Unknown: Are you willing to risk your reputation over a measly million dollars?

Joel: I can take a little hit on my reputation. If I give you what you want, you will just come back for more. That is the nature of leeches.

Unknown: If I am a leech, what does that make you? You think about no one but yourself, but what about the girl? Can she handle the scandal? What will it do to her life?

Joel: Even the FBI wouldn't be able to figure out her identity from this picture. Maybe next time, you should splurge on a better photographer. It is amazing to me that you can't even get blackmail right.

Unknown: I know exactly who the girl is. My guess is that I know more about her than you do. How else would I know that she left on a plane earlier today? She must be so ready to be back at home. I guess she wanted to be as far away from you as possible before the picture is leaked.

Joel: You know nothing.

Unknown: Play tough all you want Joel, but those you care about will be the ones to get hurt. Get me the money, or else.

He slams his phone back down on the nightstand. There is no way Blaine knows who you are, but a sinking pit in his stomach makes him rush from his room and up the stairs. The walk to your room seems longer than ever before. He just needs to see your face.

When he gets to your room, the door stands open. His stomach drops; the room is empty… You are nowhere in sight, the bed is made, and the room looks barren despite the perfectly styled decor. He rushes into the bathroom, hoping to find some sign that you haven't really left, only to find it empty as well. The closet is also empty of all of your clothing, and your suitcase is gone.

You truly have left.

He sinks onto your empty bed, his head in his hands, trying to accept the situation and figure out what he had done wrong. He glances over to the nightstand and realizes you have left something, possibly on purpose. The only thing left in the room is a small pink shell set on your bedside table. He picks it up, rubbing the smooth side against his thumb. Where had you picked this up? It must have been significant enough that you felt the need to keep it. He slips the small shell into his pocket. He should have gone after you instead of the guy taking pictures, but now he can't help but wonder if you even wanted him to.

“Sir?"

The voice shakes him from his thoughts, drawing him back to reality. Reggie is standing in the doorway, a somber expression on his face as he rocks gently from side to side, as if contemplating how to tell him something.

“Yes, Reggie? Is there something I can do for you?" His voice sounds exhausted even to his own ear. He hopes that whatever Reggie has to say doesn't have anything to do with work. That is the last thing on his mind at the moment.

“No, I was actually coming to tell you I just got back from dropping her off at the airport. I ran into her when I was driving back from picking up a few things at the store for the chefs this morning. She was dragging her suitcase through the gravel at the end of the drive."

His heart crumbles again at hearing the confirmation that you are really gone. You've left–without a word. “Thank you for making sure she got to the airport. Did she say why she was leaving?"

“She didn't give me much detail. She looked really upset, though. She mentioned fighting with Sarah. I have no idea what they fought about, but a couple of the maids said they heard Sarah screaming at someone early this morning. No one really thought much of it; they just figured she was yelling at a member of the staff."

It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Sarah to scream at a staff member–or her friend for that matter. “That girl needs a reality check," he says with a loud sigh.

He truly is embarrassed to find out that his daughter had yelled at his staff members so frequently that it was considered perfectly normal. He will have to rein her in before she does some real damage. He also needs to find out what she had said to you to make you leave. He suddenly feels exhausted at the thought of having to confront his daughter. Getting blackmailed by his deranged, bastard half-brother is enough for one day.

“Thank you, Reggie. Will you call my housekeeper at the New York home and let her know to prepare for my arrival please?"

Reggie raises his eyebrows slightly but then nods. “Of course, sir. When should I tell her we will arrive?"

“Tell her we will be there tomorrow. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to." His mind is made up, which does make him feel slightly better about the situation.

Reggie nods and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

So you really did leave. The fact that Blaine knew you left means he was having you followed. If he went to see you, he would lead Blaine right to you. His only option is to act as though you didn't matter to him. The only way to keep you safe is to keep his distance. He wouldn't go after you. Not until after he tracked Blaine down.

—

"You need to tell him," Aubrey insists, her arms folded firmly across her chest. Ever since she learned about the blackmail, she's been your guardian angel, fiercely protective.

"But we're both in that photo," you protest, the heat rising to your cheeks as you recall the day. "I was the one who stripped down and dove into the water first. I have no idea what came over me. Joel showed up, and before I knew it, I was daring him to join me. We got... carried away."

Lin's eyes narrow with a playful grin. "Are you blushing? What do you mean by 'carried away'?" she pries, her curiosity piqued.

You chuckle nervously, the memory flooding back. "Well, I haven't told you this, but we almost went all the way in the water that day." It's time to come clean with your friends.

"Oh my god, you're just spilling this now?" Lin exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.

"I've been trying to push it out of my mind, but I can't stop thinking about Joel," you confess, your thoughts drifting to him despite your best efforts.

Aubrey swats Lin's arm, a reminder of the gravity of the situation. "This is serious, Lin. It's not the time for jokes."

"I just don't get why he hasn't sent a security team or something! He's loaded, right? He needs to step up and take responsibility," you say, still shaken from being tailed by a mysterious man from your gym – likely the same one behind the blackmail.

"He has just as much at stake as I do," you add, collapsing onto the worn-out sofa, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

You're still catching your breath from the encounter, wondering if giving in would only make things worse for Joel. Who could be so intent on hurting him that they'd resort to blackmail and stalking?

"Does he, though? He's got his fortune to shield him," Aubrey counters.

"He might not even know what's happening," you say in Joel's defense.

"Then you need to fill him in," Lin interjects, her tone firm.

"I know I do, but I'm not sure how to reach out to him," you admit. You wish you could just call him, arrange to meet somewhere in the city. But you never got his number, figuring you'd never need it – he was always just a short walk away. And now, it's too late.

"Could you ask Sarah for his number?" Aubrey suggests.

"Even if I wanted to talk to her after our huge fight, I doubt she'd respond," you say, the bridge between you and Sarah burnt to ashes.

Lin, ever the problem-solver, pulls out her phone and quickly types away. Moments later, she hands it to you, displaying a picture of a towering skyscraper with a New York address.

"This is his office. Just go in and talk to him," Lin urges, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Also, I can't resist – was he a good kisser?"

Aubrey laughs, smacking Lin on the shoulder, while your smile and the telltale blush give away your answer.

—

The Express Air building looms over you, an imposing figure against the city skyline. You watch as men and women in sharp suits hurry in and out of the grand entrance, their importance echoing in the rhythm of their steps. Inside, the opulence of white marble floors and black elevators leaves you feeling out of place. The lobby buzzes with the sound of stilettos and the murmur of conversations, all bouncing off the high ceilings in a symphony of business.

You quickly retreat to the far side of the lobby, where a black letterboard announces Joel's office on the top floor. The elevator button glows under your touch, the wait for the doors to open feeling like an eternity. The elevator fills, and you try to blend into the background, your heart pounding as you ascend. When the last of your fellow passengers disembark, you finally breathe, rehearsing your speech to Joel in your head. Despite the dire news you carry, there's a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him again. You hope he'll forgive your sudden departure – without an explanation, without a goodbye. Perhaps he's missed you as much as you've missed him. The elevator dings, signaling your arrival. You step out with newfound confidence, only to have it crushed by the receptionist's icy gaze.

"Are you lost?" she asks, her tone dripping with condescension. She's the epitome of a high-fashion model, her tight black dress clinging to her like a second skin.

You approach her desk, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm here to see Mr. Miller. Is he available?"

Her cold smile sends a chill down your spine. "Desperate women come up here all the time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Miller. At least they dress the part. You, on the other hand..."

You bristle at her words but press on. "I've met Mr. Miller before. It's urgent that I speak with him."

She rolls her eyes, the picture of impatience. "If you knew him, you'd have an appointment. Mr. Miller's schedule is booked for months. I can't let just anyone see him without one. It's how we keep out the crazies." Her gaze rakes over you, the unspoken implication hanging in the air.

You take a deep breath, steadying your voice. "Please, this is time-sensitive. I really need to see him today."

"It's always 'time-sensitive,'" she mocks, turning back to her computer. "I can call security if you can't find your way out."

Your hands clench into fists, the anger threatening to spill over. But you know losing your temper will only hasten your exit.

"May I leave a note for him, then? It'll be his choice to respond," you say, the words barely above a whisper.

With an exaggerated sigh, she slides a piece of notepaper and a pen toward you. You scribble a quick message, careful not to reveal too much:

Joel, I'm being contacted about our swim in the cove. We need to talk.

You add your name and number, then hesitate before adding a postscript in tiny letters.

P.S. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye.

You slide the note back to her, your heart sinking as you press the elevator call button. When you glance back, the receptionist is watching you, a smug smile playing on her lips. You rush out of the building, head down, the paranoia of being watched still gnawing at you. You can only hope the receptionist will deliver your message to Joel. For all you know, it could be lining a trash can by now. As the elevator descends and you step back onto the street, you're left with a sense of helplessness. What will you do if Joel doesn't reach out soon?

—

"Bruce, please tell me you have some good news," Joel says into his phone.

He walks out onto the balcony of his penthouse, taking in the New York skyline. The city's energy is palpable, but after Blaine's attempts at blackmail, the presence of his security team is a constant reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows. His penthouse, a sanctuary of solitude, is one of the few places where he can find a moment's peace, though even here, the security team maintains a vigilant watch from the lobby below.

"I am afraid it is not good news, sir. We have reason to believe that Blaine is indeed back in New York. What is surprising is that my security team followed him into a neighborhood far from both your penthouse and your offices," Bruce informs him.

Instantly, Joel's thoughts leap to you. The only logical explanation is that Blaine is attempting to use you to get in contact with him. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

"Do you know where he would be headed, sir?" Bruce inquires.

"I believe he is trying to use a woman to get to me," Joel says, giving Bruce your name. "She was on the yacht with us for part of the vacation. We became involved, and she got caught in Blaine's crossfire."

"Is she the one in the picture?"

"Yes, she is, Bruce. I’ve been trying to find a way to contact her for the past week with no luck. She likely wants nothing to do with me after getting caught up in this mess. However, I would like to have some of the team watching out for her. Would you let me know if you can find her most recent address or a way for me to contact her?"

Joel has reached out to you multiple times over social media, the only link he has to you, but each message has gone unanswered. He isn't sure if you're purposely avoiding responding to them or if you just haven't seen them. You are the complete opposite of his daughter, who lives her entire life on social media.

"Of course. I will let you know when I find something, sir," Bruce assures him.

"Thank you, Bruce. I don't know what I would do without you having my back," Joel expresses, knowing full well that Bruce is not one for effusive praise.

Bruce offers a small cough of acknowledgment, and the line goes dead. Bruce doesn't know how to take compliments well, but Joel wants him to understand how much he values him, even if it makes him uncomfortable to hear it. A knock sounds on Joel's door just as he steps back inside from the balcony. He opens it reluctantly, already mourning the loss of his solitude as Marnie, his ex, barges in uninvited.

"Marnie, what are you doing here?" he asks, though he knows the answer will likely disrupt the calm he's sought.

"I needed to go over the budget for Sarah's wedding before I start finalizing the plans," she says, making herself at home on his brown leather sofa.

He takes a seat across from her, the tension already building as he rubs his temples. Dealing with Marnie, especially when it comes to money, is a surefire way to trigger a migraine. "Just let me know what my portion of the wedding is, and I will pay for it. I am not in the mood to discuss the cost of linen tablecloths and reams of silk with you," he says, closing his eyes in an attempt to ward off the impending headache. As he continues to rub his temples, he hopes she'll take the hint and leave. But Marnie is nothing if not persistent, especially when she's on the hunt for more funds. He often reflects on how lucky he was that her late husband dealt with her more frequently than he ever had to.

"Well, you are in a mood, aren't you? I figured you would want to have more involvement in your only daughter's wedding," she says with a dramatic sigh.

"I already said I would pay my share of whatever Sarah wants. She doesn't want my opinion on the actual details of the wedding, and neither do you," he retorts, weary of the conversation.

"Well, that is fair enough," she concedes with another sigh, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

He lets the silence hang in the air, a temporary respite from the inevitable conflict. But his patience wears thin, and he finally breaks the silence. "Was there something else you wanted to discuss, Marnie?"

"Well, now that you ask, yes, there is a small matter I wanted to discuss with you," she says, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

He sits up, bracing himself for whatever she's about to drop on him. Of course, she doesn't get straight to the point, and he's forced to coax it out of her. "And what is the small matter?" he asks, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

"Sarah's trust."

"Yes? As we have already discussed, Sarah has a trust set up by the Miller family," he says, already dreading where this conversation is headed.

Marnie has a history of making poor financial decisions, so he's been meticulous in setting up Sarah's trust to prevent her from accessing it prematurely. He's always held out hope that Sarah would mature and learn to manage her finances responsibly. But deep down, he knows that's probably just wishful thinking.

"Well, since she is getting married, I think she would benefit from receiving it now," Marnie says with a confidence that worries him.

"The trust is set up so that she won’t be able to access the funds until she turns twenty-five," he says firmly, having had similar discussions with her in the past.

"She has to wait until she is twenty-five to receive what is rightfully hers?" Marnie asks, as if this is news to her.

"Yes, that’s how the trust is structured. That way, she's mature enough to handle that amount of money," he explains, though he knows Marnie is more interested in the money than in Sarah's maturity.

"That is all fine in theory, but that puts her in a difficult position right now," she continues, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"How so? Todd seems fully capable of supporting her. He has a good standing in his father's company," he responds, already sensing where this is going.

"That is true, but I was just talking with Todd, and he had his eye on a penthouse on the upper east side that is a bit out of his price range. It would be the perfect starter home for them, and I would hate to see them deprived."

Alarm bells ring in his head as soon as Marnie mentions Todd. The man has his sights set on Sarah's trust fund before they're even married. Given how Todd has treated you, Joel can't say he's surprised. "I see. Does Sarah know about this penthouse?" he asks, already suspecting the answer.

"Of course not. Todd wants to surprise her with it as a wedding gift," she says, as if the idea of a surprise penthouse is perfectly reasonable.

"I will change the terms of Sarah's trust fund on one condition," he says, looking Marnie directly in the eyes to convey the seriousness of his words.

"What is that?" she asks, her eyes widening with hope.

"Todd signs a prenup. Everything that Sarah pays for will remain in Sarah's name alone. He will not have access to any of her trust fund money."

"You are being ridiculous, Joel. A healthy marriage can't operate like a business transaction."

"Those are my terms. If Todd doesn't like it, they don't have to get married at all," he states with finality.

"You would really take away your daughter's one chance at happiness over something as trivial as money?!" Marnie screeches, her true colors shining through.

He can't help but find it ironic that she calls money trivial, given how often she comes to him for financial help. "If money is so trivial, then Todd should have no problem signing a prenup," he counters.

He has serious doubts that Todd is Sarah's one chance at happiness. In fact, the more he gets to know Todd, the more he's convinced that Todd will only bring Sarah misery. He would have liked to discuss this with Sarah, but he knows that once she sets her mind on something, there's no changing it.

"I can't believe you would be so selfish! You are going to ruin the surprise of the penthouse completely, and that will cast a horrible shadow over the entire wedding. You are going to ruin everything for Sarah. She has had enough to deal with in her life by losing one father figure. Now you are going to break her heart all over again!" Marnie spits out, her words laced with venom.

He's used to her throwing her late husband in his face to manipulate him into doing what she wants. She always portrays Sarah as the victim, conveniently forgetting that it was her own actions that kept Sarah from knowing her real father for the first ten years of her life. The guilt used to work on him, but he's since seen through her manipulations. "Those are my terms, Marnie. You are not going to back me into a corner. If this was truly important to Sarah, she could come to discuss it with me. But I’m not making any changes to her trust because you and her fiance are conspiring together."

His phone, which he had placed on the sofa cushion beside him, vibrates, pulling his attention away from Marnie's theatrics. A call from Bruce lights up the screen. "Excuse me, Marnie; I have to take this," he says, picking up his phone with a sense of relief at the interruption.

He steps back out onto the balcony, closing the door firmly behind him. The last thing he needs is for Marnie to overhear anything about Blaine. She paces back and forth in his living room, visibly fuming from their conversation. "Bruce, what news do you have?"

"Sir, I just got word that a woman matching the young lady's description just left your office. Apparently, she talked with the receptionist about needing to speak with you. The receptionist called security right after she left."

"Thank you, Bruce," he says, his mind already racing with thoughts of you.

He sends a text to his assistant to send the car around, and he prepares to leave, his resolve hardening.

"Where the hell do you think you are going? We are not finished here," Marnie yells after him.

"Yes, we are, Marnie. I expect you to leave before I get back. I will give orders to my security team downstairs to forcibly remove you if you refuse."

He leaves her standing there, her jaw dropped in shock.

He is not going to lose you again.

—

Joel's driver pulls up to the front of the Express Air Building, and he immediately jumps out to scan the crowd for you.

He lives only a few blocks away from the office, and he left as soon as he'd gotten word that you had been to his office. If he's lucky, maybe he'll catch you before you leave. He stands in the middle of the crowded sidewalk and scans the surrounding street; just across the street, he catches a glimpse of hair that looks just like yours. His heart skips at the chance that it might be you.

His designer dress shoes slap the pavement hard as he tries to make up the distance between you and him. He does his best to avoid a collision with the other pedestrians as he runs, but he knows he's doing a poor job of it, hearing the mutters of frustration in his wake. Despite knowing he's being rude, he pushes himself harder as the gap between you and him starts to lessen. He's halfway down the block from you when he sees your tiny arm shoot up, hailing a taxi. He knows he has to reach you before one of them stops to pick you up. He's ten feet from you when a bright yellow car pulls up in front of you, and you open the back door.

"Stop!" he yells as he races toward you.

You bend your head to enter the cab, and he grabs your wrist just in time.

"Excuse me!" you respond, turning to face him.

"Please, I need to talk to you," he says, out of breath from the chase.

"I am not who you think I am!" the woman says as his eyes finally land on her face. Clearly, not you.

"Shit. I am so sorry, ma'am," he apologizes, releasing her wrist immediately.

"You should be," the woman chides him as she yanks her wrist from his hand and slams the cab door shut.

He makes the long walk back to the entrance of Express Air, catching his breath along the way. He silently gets into an elevator, ignoring the buzz of his employees, numbly answering some of their greetings with a slight nod. Luckily, many of the employees are too busy to notice their boss sulking through the lobby and hallways. The elevator pings at the top floor, and he takes a step out into the waiting room of his office.

He notices at that moment that he's scuffed his shoes in the chase for the 'not you' woman. There goes a perfectly good pair of five-thousand-dollar shoes.

"Good Morning, sir," his receptionist Tabitha says as the elevator doors close behind him.

"Tabitha," he answers with a small nod. He's still angry with her for calling security on you, but he won't get the information he needs from her if he starts scolding her right away, so he holds off.

"Can I get you anything, sir? I wasn't sure if you were coming in today," she says.

"No, that’s quite alright. I wasn't planning on coming in today. Did anyone come by for a meeting with me today?" he asks, hoping she'll tell him about you stopping by.

"No one of any importance, sir," Tabitha says with a seductive smile as she grabs a water bottle from the mini fridge under the reception desk. She cracks the seal and hands it to him.

He takes a mental note that Tabitha is purposely not telling him that you had come looking for him, which he knows from the explanation she had given the security guard. He figures that might be a sign he needs a new receptionist. He takes the water bottle from Tabitha's outstretched hand, maintaining his stern exterior.

"Are you sure? I expected a visit from an old acquaintance. She was supposed to stop by today," he says with a calculating stare.

"Oh, we did have someone stop by," Tabitha says, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. "I didn't catch her name, though."

"Did you happen to 'catch' what she stopped by for?" he asks.

"She said something about knowing you personally, but I highly doubted it with the way she was dressed. I don't think you would stoop so low as to mix with someone who dressed so - common," she says, her voice dripping with disdain.

"What did she look like?" he asks, feeling anger rise up at her judgmental attitude.

Tabitha takes this as an invitation to further mock you to him, as if he had asked her for more of her petty gossip. "Oh, you would not believe the state of her shoes. These ugly brown clunky things. I cannot believe someone would ever leave the store with something so awful!" Tabitha squeaks with delight.

"No, Tabitha. I do’nt care what she was wearing. Why on earth would you think I was so shallow as to only care about the clothes on a person's back?" he says, his irritation clear.

Tabitha looks as though he has physically smacked her. She looks away from him without saying a word and slides a note from underneath her keyboard. She holds it in her hand and nearly flicks it at him.

"She left this note," her flirty tone has completely changed, and he can tell she's trying very hard to keep her voice professional.

"Thank you, Tabitha," he says as he takes the note from her. He walks into his office and closes the glass doors behind him.

He carefully flips over the note in his hand.

Joel, I am being contacted about swimming in the cove. We need to talk.

-P.S. I am sorry I didn't say goodbye.

You had signed the bottom of the note and left your phone number next to your loopy signature. He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

—

You sink into the old sofa, the energy drained from you after the encounter with Joel's dreadful receptionist. You've managed to hold back the hot tears threatening to spill over during the entire elevator ride down to the main floor, but those concerns fade into the background as you make your way back to the apartment. You don't want to call Lin for a ride, and you can't justify the expense of a taxi. The walk home is uneventful until you notice a man in a dark hoodie. He doesn't follow you home, thankfully, but his presence is a stark reminder that someone could be watching you. The thought casts a shadow over the rest of your walk.

"So, did you talk to him?" Aubrey peeks out from the kitchen, her face etched with concern. She must have noticed your less-than-enthusiastic flop onto the sofa or perhaps heard a sigh of frustration escape your lips.

"No, he wasn't at his office, so I left a note with his snobby receptionist," you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice.

"Well, I'm sure it's only a matter of time until he calls you and straightens this whole thing out," she says with a smile that's meant to be reassuring.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll call if the receptionist actually gives him my note. I wouldn't put it past that witch to have tossed it in the trash the moment I turned my back," you say, pulling a throw pillow over your face to shield yourself from the world.

"Why do you say that?" Aubrey asks, her eyes filled with love and concern as she gazes at you.

You lower the pillow just enough to see her. "Aubs, that was the most embarrassing interaction I've ever had. She told me women pull the same stunt all the time to try and get Joel's attention. She treated me like I was some kind of groupie."

"I'm sure it wasn't your most embarrassing interaction. Do you remember when you sat on that foreign exchange student's jacket? You thought he was hitting on you because he couldn't figure out how to tell you he needed you to get up," Aubrey teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Aubrey! I asked you not to mention that again! What was I supposed to think when he kept gesturing to me and then pointing to his butt?" you say, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth despite your exasperation.

Aubrey bursts into laughter, nearly wheezing with amusement.

"But you went on for like ten minutes about how you thought he was really nice but didn't see him or his ass in that way. Oh man, the look on that poor confused boy's face," Aubrey says, wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye.

You pull the pillow back over your face, partly to hide your smile at the memory of your earlier embarrassment.

"What are we missing in here?" Lin asks, entering the room from the bedroom and holding a tape gun.

"Oh, we were just remembering the time that you sat on the foreign exchange student's jacket," Aubrey says, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Oh, I never get tired of that story!" Lin exclaims, then begins imitating you, "I agree. You do have a really nice ass, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't think of you like that."

Aubrey's laughter erupts into a snort, which sets Lin off laughing just as hard. You can't help but think about how much you'll miss living with these two. You're taking Lin with you to Harvard, but it won't be the same without Aubrey.

"I'm going to miss this," you say, sitting up on the couch and hugging the pillow in your lap.

"Don't remind me that you guys are leaving. I've already cried about it today," Aubrey admits.

"Yeah, don't make Aubrey cry. You know I get all weird when people cry," Lin adds.

"You're right. I'm sorry, you two. I just feel bad that I've spent the last week moping around the place, not enjoying our time together."

"We understand, girl, especially now that we know about the whole mess with the photographer," Aubrey says.

"What Aubrey said. Anyway, what happened at Express Air? I'm guessing you didn't get a chance to talk to Joel, or we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"No, he wasn't at his office. His horrible receptionist made fun of me and would only let me leave a note for him. I don't even know if she'll give it to him, so all I can do now is sit and wait for him to call, but that's probably a long shot."

"I'm sure he'll call, girl," Aubrey says, coming to sit next to you on the couch.

"It's only a matter of time. And if he doesn't, I'll go up to his office and see if that snot-nosed receptionist can say no to me," Lin declares, sitting on your other side.

"Who said she was snot-nosed?" you ask.

"Just a shot in the dark, honestly, but it felt right."

You all laugh together until your phone starts ringing, breaking the momentary levity. You pull it out of your pocket and take a deep breath before answering, hearing a gruff deep voice on the other end, "Darlin'?”

Taglist <3

@lizzie-cakes @ashhlsstuff @puduvallee @theoraekenslover

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction

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sithfox · 1 month ago

Note

ooh please tell me about rebellion-era QuinFox fic if nobody's requested that yet, and if someone has, please tell me about setting fires to keep you warm 🥺🙏

I talked about rebellion-era QuinFox here so setting fires it is!

setting fires to keep you warm is the first fic I started writing and also undoubtedly the longest (we are up to 126k words not counting everything still in the outline). Our basic premise is this: what if Fox was Force-sensitive and Palpatine decided to train him as an acolyte?

Your snippet is from the Chips arc after Fox has 'shot' Fives 👀 Our POV character is watching footage recorded by a helmet, thus the weird formatting.

Fives nods, apparently deciding he won't he murdered immediately if Fox went to so much effort to keep him alive.

All right, shoot.

What did you find that scared Palpatine so bad he wanted you dead?

The story Fives tells is horrifying. When he finishes, Fox lets the legs of his chair hit the floor and leans forward.

All right, Fives. I have a proposal for you.

Fives looks curious, though it's mixed with the relief of finally being heard.

I'm listening.

Fox smiles, the same cold smile as before.

You've brought me a very important piece to a puzzle I've been working on for five years now. You have two options. The easy option is for me to lock you up somewhere safe until the war is over. It'll keep you away from Palpatine, but it'll probably get pretty boring.

Fives leans forward, hooked.

And the hard option?

Assume a new identity and work with me to expose Palpatine as a Sith Lord.

#thanks for the ask!#commander fox #arc trooper fives #ask game #kiki speaks #series: setting fires to keep you warm #fic snippet

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misswynters · 4 months ago

Text

Journey Begins — Chapter One

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. You are betrothed to the heir apparent, Aegon Targaryen. Your new spouse is not very keen towards you, only his brother, Aerion shows slight interest.

[warnings: none

[work count: 3.3k

[a/n: i haven’t written in so long so bare with me. it’s proofread but i couldve missed something.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

| next chapter | masterlist |

The sun was setting as you made your way to King’s Landing. The banners of House Dayne which beared the white sword and falling star, fluttered against the warm breeze. You sat there, with your head held high as your eyes peaked through the small windows of the carriage. The only think you saw was the streets of the capital buzzing with people at the market and kids playing. The Red Keep loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows over the ancient city. As they approached, you could feel the weight of your family’s expectations that are now resting on your shoulders.

House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house you would soon be entangled with. You dismounted gracefully, your hair cascading over your shoulders, and adjusted your violet cloak, a gift from your family marking your status as a noble of Dorne.

Inside the red keep, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Nobles and the servants whispered amongst themselves as their eyes followed your presence. You were escorted to the grand hall where there was a feast being prepared in your honor. The hall was a marvel of architecture, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The long tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of rich spices and sweet wines.

At the head of the hall, seated upon the dais, were the twin princes of the realm: Aegon and Aerion Targaryen. Aegon, the elder by mere minutes and the heir apparent, had an air of composed authority. His silver-gold hair was neatly trimmed, and his piercing violet eyes exuded a sense of calm determination. By contrast, Aerion's dark auburn hair fell in wild waves around his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with mischief and restless energy. They were a striking pair, embodying the duality of fire and ice that defined their lineage.

You approached the dais with measured steps, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You bowed gracefully, acknowledging the princes with the respect due their station. "Your Highnesses," you greeted them, your voice steady and clear.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

Aegon’s expression softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are pleased you have arrived safely. There is much to discuss in the days to come, matters of great importance to both our houses."

As the day continued, the atmosphere in the Red Keep grew increasingly tense. You found yourself caught in the middle of a growing rift between Aegon and Aerion.

Aegon's cold demeanor persisted, though he made more of an effort to be present. You appreciated the attempts, but the connection you guys longed for remained elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a source of comfort and companionship, his presence a balm to your weary soul.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next evening, a ceremony was held to formally announce your betrothal to Aegon. The Great Hall was filled with nobles, lords, and ladies, all dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of flowers and the sound of music, creating an atmosphere of celebration that belied the undercurrents of tension.

You stood beside Aegon, your hand resting on his arm as they greeted the guests. Aerion was nearby, his eyes never straying far from his brother and the person who would soon be his sister-in-law. As the ceremony began, You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that intensified with each passing moment.

The High Septon performed the ritual, binding their hands with a length of silk and speaking the ancient words that would unite them in the eyes of the Seven. You glanced at Aegon, hoping to find some hint of warmth or affection, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the Septon.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests applauded, you and Aegon were led to the high table for the ceremonial feast. The hall was filled with laughter and conversation, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being on display, a pawn in a game of power.

Aerion joined you guys at the high table, his presence a welcome distraction from the tension that lingered between you and Aegon. As the feast progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Aerion, his wit and charm a stark contrast to Aegon's brooding silence.

"Aegon, you must try the Dornish red," Aerion said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to his brother. "It's truly exceptional."

Aegon accepted the goblet with a curt nod, his eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to his food. "Thank you, Aerion," he said, his tone neutral.

You sighed inwardly, turning your attention back to Aerion. "Have you ever visited Dorne, Aerion?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Aerion's eyes lit up. "Once, a few years ago. The landscape is breathtaking, and the people are as warm as the sun. You must show me around someday."

"I would love that," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at their lips. "There are so many places I could show you."

Aegon looked up, his expression darkening. "Is this appropriate?" he asked, his voice cold. "Discussing travel plans when we are in the middle of our betrothal feast?"

Your smile faltered, a flush of embarrassment coloring their cheeks. "I was just trying to make conversation," you said quietly.

Aerion's gaze hardened. "Aegon, there's no harm in a little light conversation. Surely you can see that."

Aegon's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your brother, Aerion, she is my betrothed. I expect you to respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "Aegon, this is our celebration. Can't we enjoy it without arguing, please?"

Aegon set his goblet down with a thud, his eyes boring into you. "I am trying to enjoy it, but it is difficult when you spend more time talking to my brother than to me."

You met his gaze evenly, you’re voice was steady. "I am trying to bridge the gap between us, Aegon. But respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The hall fell silent, the guests watching the exchange with wide eyes. Aerion placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "Let's not ruin this evening," he said softly. "We are family, and we should act like it."

Aegon's expression softened slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained. "Very well," he said, his tone grudging. "Let us enjoy the feast."

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, the earlier warmth and camaraderie replaced by a palpable unease. You did your best to engage with the guests, but their thoughts kept returning to the confrontation with Aegon and the growing tension between him and Aerion.

As the feast drew to a close, you excused yourself and retired to your chambers, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. You changed into your nightclothes and climbed into bed, your mind was racing with the events of the evening.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, you were awakened by a gentle knock on the door. The handmaidens entered, bringing fresh clothes and preparing a bath. As you got dressed, your thoughts turned to the day ahead and the many challenges that awaited you. Hoping that Aegon would soon find you more interesting and give you the attention as your husband.

After getting ready, you made your way to the dining hall, hoping for a quiet meal and a chance to unwind. To your surprise, Aerion was already there, seated at a small table near the window. He looked up as you entered, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Good morning, ___," he greeted, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "Join me?"

You returned the smile and took a seat. "Good morning, your grace. I would love to."

You guys ordered a simple meal, the kind that reminded you of home, and settled into an easy conversation. The food was delicious, and the company even more so. Aerion's presence was a balm to your weary soul, and you found yourself laughing and talking late into the morning.

As the conversation flowed, you both continued to talked about your hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties. Surprisingly, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you had never been able to with Aegon, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I never expected to find a friend here," you admitted with a soft voice. "But you have been a true friend to me, Aerion. Thank you."

Aerion smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are welcome, ___. I am glad to have found a friend in you as well."

Their laughter and easy banter were interrupted by the arrival of Aegon. His expression was stern, and his eyes flashed with irritation as he took in the scene before him. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice cold.

You and Aerion looked up, the warmth of your conversation dissipating in an instant. Aerion remained seated, his expression calm but his eyes defiant. "We were just having breakfast, brother."

Aegon's gaze shifted to you, a frown marring his handsome features. "This again…why are you speaking with him?"

Your met his gaze evenly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Aerion was kind enough to join me for breakfast. We were just talking."

Aegon's frown deepened. "Just talking? You are my wife. You should be spending time with me, not him."

Aerion stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Aegon, if you were around more often, perhaps ___ wouldn't feel the need to seek company elsewhere."

Aegon's face flushed with anger. "Stay out of this, Aerion. This is between me and my wife."

You stood as well, your voice firm. "Aegon, he has been nothing but kind to me. Ever since the ceremony, you have ignored me and treated me with indifference. I am trying to make the best of this situation, but you make it incredibly difficult."

Aegon's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—guilt, perhaps. "I am your husband, and you will respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "I am trying to respect our union, but respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aerion watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression, his earlier amusement replaced by concern.

Finally, Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I...I will try to do better," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He turned and left the hall, leaving you and Aerion standing in the aftermath of the confrontation.

Aerion placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You did well. Aegon can be difficult, but he will come around."

“Though he does get drunk often as you’ve noticed these past few days, so be weary about that” he continued.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, frustration, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. "Thank you, your grace. I appreciate your support."

He smiled gently. "Anytime,” as he looked into your eyes “And call me by my name from now on. We are family now, after all." The young man left the dining hall, letting you all by your self and the servants worked the room.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

As the days passed, you tried to settle into your new life in the Red Keep. You attended council meetings, participated in court functions, and did your best to navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined the royal court.

Aegon remained distant, though he made an effort to be more present. He would sit with you during meals, engage in polite conversation, and accompany you to various events. However, the warmth and connection you had hoped for were still elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a constant source of support and companionship.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of court politics, you found yourself in the library, seeking solace among the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. Aerion joined you, as he often did, settling into a quiet corner, a bottle of wine and two goblets between you.

"I heard you had a difficult day," Aerion said, pouring them each a generous measure of wine.

You sighed, taking the offered goblet. "It seems there is no end to the intrigue and scheming at court. I feel like I am constantly walking a tightrope."

Aerion raised his goblet in a toast. "To surviving another day in the snake pit."

Clinking your goblets together and drinking the wine, you felt a sense of ease with him. Talking late into the night, your conversations ranging from the mundane life to beyond. Aerion's wit and insight were a constant source of comfort, and you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your new life.

As the candles burned low, you leaned back in their chair, a contented smile on their lips. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know what I would do without you."

He smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are stronger than you realize, ___. You will find your way."

You both parted ways reluctantly, each returning to your respective chambers. As always Aegon is nowhere to be found. He probably ran off somewhere in the capital to get drunk with his friends. If he meant what he said that morning when you met with aerion at the dining hall, he would be spending more time with you. Especially when it comes to sharing your chambers. From what aerion told you about aegon, he would go spend time with whores and get wasted. Though he is the heir apparent, he sure doesn’t act like it sometimes.

As you slipped into bed, the memory of Aerion's reassuring words lingering in your mind. Closing your eyes, you felt a sense of peace washing over them as you drifted off to sleep. At the back of your mind, thinking that the same things would happen continuously, everyday. Aegon ignoring you every time he sees you alone, yet causing an argument when you are with his twin.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, Aegon woke you with a sharp knock on the door. The sound echoed through the room, pulling you from a fitful sleep. You blinked against the early morning light, your mind still foggy from the remnants of your dreams.

"Wake up," Aegon called through the door, his voice stern. "We have a council meeting."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you sat up. "I'm coming," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering weariness. The servants got you dressed quickly, donning the elegant attire befitting your noble status, and made your way to the council chamber.

The atmosphere in the room was tense when you entered, with Aegon by your side. The small council members were already seated, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving. You recognized some of them: Lord Hand Otto Hightower, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Ships. Each of their gazes bore into you, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Aegon led you to a seat near the head of the table, introducing you to the council with a formal tone. "This is Lady ___, my betrothed. She will be joining us from now on."

There were murmurs of acknowledgment, but you could feel the underlying tension. You glanced around the table, noticing the reluctant expressions and the way some of the members exchanged knowing glances. It was clear that the rumors about you and Aerion had reached their ears. As if on cue, Aerion entered the chamber, his presence commanding immediate attention. He took his seat with a nod to you and aegon, his expression composed.

The meeting began with the usual discussions of state affairs, taxes, and military matters. You listened attentively, trying to absorb the complex web of politics and alliances. You felt the weight of scrutiny on you, the council members' eyes frequently drifting your way.

After some time, Aegon addressed you directly. "Lady ___, what are your thoughts on the current state of the northern defenses?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I believe that the northern defenses are crucial for the security of the realm," you began, choosing your words carefully. "We must ensure they are well-manned and adequately supplied to withstand any potential threats."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "And how do you propose we achieve that?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the council's eyes on you. "By allocating more resources to the northern regions, increasing recruitment efforts, and ensuring that the commanders are experienced and well-equipped."

Aegon smirked, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Is that so? And where do you suggest we find these resources? Shall we simply conjure them out of thin air?"

A few of the council members chuckled, and you could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You clenched your fists against your dress, struggling to maintain your composure. "No, of course not," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We can reallocate funds from less critical areas, and seek additional support from our allies."

Aegon leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Reallocate funds? Seek additional support? It seems you have all the answers, Lady ___. Perhaps you should be sitting in my seat."

The laughter around the table grew louder, and you felt a surge of anger and humiliation. You reached for your goblet, your hand trembling with rage, as you hurled it across the table. The goblet flew past Aegon's head, narrowly missing him, and crashed against the wall, spilling wine everywhere.

The room fell into stunned silence, the council members staring at you in shock. Aegon's expression darkened with fury, but before he could speak, you stood up, your eyes blazing with defiance.

"I will not be humiliated like this," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am trying to do my best, but you make it impossible."

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of shocked silence in your wake. As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, tears of frustration and anger welled up in your eyes. You had tried so hard to bridge the gap between yourself and Aegon, but it seemed that every step you took only widened the chasm.

You retreated to your chambers, slamming the door behind her. You sank onto your soft bed, burying your face in your hands. The weight of your new life, the constant scrutiny, and the growing tension with Aegon were all becoming too much to bear.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your solemn thoughts. You wiped your tears stained eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door. To your surprise, it was Aerion.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

Aerion stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I saw what happened. Aegon can be cruel, but you did well to stand up to him."

You looked up at him, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Aerion sat beside you, his presence comforting. "Aegon will come around, eventually. But in the meantime, you have me."

You managed a small smile, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."

Aerion's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "We'll get through this together."

| next chapter | masterlist |

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva @malfoycassimalfoy @klutzylaena

#house targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon smut #hotd aegon #aegon ii fanfic #aerion targaryen #hotd imagine #jacaerys velaryon #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #halaena targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd daeron #hotd x reader #hotd smut

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callsigns-haze · 2 months ago

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His Shadow: Chp 5

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

In the cozy, firelit warmth of the sitting room at the River House, Rhysand, Cassian, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor gathered, their conversation initially light, but soon shifting to more serious matters. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the faces of those present. Feyre sat comfortably beside Rhys, her hand resting on his, while Nesta lounged with a cup of tea, and Mor leaned back in her chair, a curious smile playing on her lips as she sensed the shift in the conversation.

Cassian, his usual easy-going demeanour tempered by a hint of concern, spoke first. “There’s something we wanted to discuss with you, ladies. Rhys and I... well, we’ve been noticing something off with Azriel lately.”

Feyre’s brow furrowed as she looked between her mate and Cassian. “What do you mean? Is he alright?”

Rhysand leaned forward, his violet eyes serious. “It’s hard to say. He’s been more withdrawn than usual, and we think we might know why. Yesterday, when Cassian and I were out... well, let’s just say we ended up at a certain pleasure house in the Hewn City.”

Mor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, while Nesta sipped her tea, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp with interest.

“While we were there,” Cassian continued, “we met a woman—YN. She works there, and... well, there’s something about her. Something that seems connected to Azriel’s recent behaviour.”

Feyre frowned, her thoughts racing. “Connected how?”

Rhys exchanged a glance with Cassian before answering. “She mentioned she has a baby, and a boyfriend. But there was something off about the way she spoke, as if she was hiding something. And today, we overheard her talking with one of the other employees. She mentioned she’s going shopping tomorrow. It got us thinking.”

Nesta’s gaze sharpened. “You think she’s involved in whatever’s been bothering Azriel?”

“We’re not sure,” Cassian admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But something about it all doesn’t sit right. Azriel has been acting strange, and we know he’s been keeping secrets. YN might be part of that.”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she considered this. “You’re suggesting we keep an eye on her? Maybe follow her while she’s shopping?”

Rhys nodded. “Exactly. If we can figure out what’s going on, we might be able to help Azriel. He’s been carrying something heavy, and we need to know if she’s involved.”

Mor’s smile faded into a more serious expression. “Do you really think this woman could be a threat?”

“Not necessarily a threat,” Rhys said carefully. “But she might be the key to understanding why Azriel has been so distant. If she’s somehow involved in whatever he’s going through, it’s worth looking into.”

Nesta leaned forward, setting her teacup down with a decisive clink. “So, you want us to go to the Hewn City, shop around, and see what we can find out?”

Rhys nodded. “Exactly. It’s a perfect cover—just a day out shopping. No one would suspect anything. But keep your eyes and ears open.”

Feyre, ever protective of her family, glanced at her sister and Mor before nodding. “We can do that. We’ll go tomorrow and see what we can learn.”

Cassian grinned, his usual mischief returning. “Just try not to get into too much trouble.”

Nesta shot him a dry look. “Speak for yourself, Cassian.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence as the women considered the plan, the gravity of the situation weighing on them. But before they could delve deeper into the details, the sound of approaching footsteps made them all fall silent. The atmosphere shifted as Azriel walked into the room, his presence immediately felt by everyone.

“Evening,” Azriel greeted, his voice as calm and measured as ever, though his sharp gaze seemed to linger on Rhysand and Cassian, as if he sensed the undercurrent of tension.

“Azriel,” Rhysand greeted smoothly, masking any trace of the conversation that had just taken place. “We were just catching up. How was your day?”

Azriel studied them for a moment, his expression unreadable as always, before nodding slightly. “Productive. Any new developments?”

“Nothing worth noting,” Cassian said casually, though there was an almost imperceptible tension in his posture. “Just the usual.”

Azriel didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he let it slide, moving to stand by the window, his gaze distant as he looked out at the night sky. The others exchanged a brief glance, silently agreeing to keep their suspicions to themselves for now. There would be time to investigate tomorrow, and until then, they would carry on as if nothing had changed.

But as the conversation shifted to more mundane topics, each of them knew that something had shifted. Secrets were being kept—by all of them—and the truth was only growing more complicated with each passing day.

---

The next day, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor found themselves in the bustling streets of the Hewn City. Despite its dark reputation, the city was alive with activity, the market streets crowded with merchants hawking their wares, and shoppers moving between the various stalls and shops. Feyre kept her hood up, blending into the shadows cast by the tall buildings, though she still felt the weight of curious glances as they walked. She had been to the Hewn City before, but never for something as delicate as this.

As they approached the heart of the market district, Feyre felt Rhysand’s presence brush against her mind, his voice a soft whisper in her thoughts. She’s just ahead, looking at some baby clothes. You’ll recognize her by the dark hair and the buggy. Along with his words came a series of images—snapshots of YN that Rhys had seen when he and Cassian visited the pleasure house with Azriel. A woman with soft, dark hair, delicate features, and an air of quiet strength, even in the depths of the Hewn City.

“Got it,” Feyre whispered back, nodding slightly as she looked to Nesta and Mor, who were both scanning the crowd. “She’s just ahead. Let’s keep our distance.”

The three women wove their way through the crowd, carefully avoiding drawing any attention. The further they walked, the darker the shops became—both in ambiance and in merchandise. The shift was subtle, the luxury of the Hewn City marred by the unmistakable undertone of cruelty and excess. Feyre’s gaze flicked from shadowed alleyways to the opulent yet ominous storefronts, the contrast of the city always unsettling her.

Finally, they spotted YN. She was pushing a simple buggy, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a cozy sweater, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. The baby in the buggy was small, barely a few weeks old, wrapped snugly in a soft blanket. YN’s movements were slow, deliberate, as she browsed through a rack of tiny clothes, her eyes scanning the options with the intent focus of a mother lost in her thoughts.

“There she is,” Mor murmured, nodding subtly towards YN. Feyre and Nesta followed her gaze, taking in the sight of the woman who had unknowingly become a focal point of their investigation.

Feyre watched as YN reached out to touch a soft onesie, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she ran her fingers over the fabric. Her expression, though serene, carried a weight of exhaustion—something Feyre recognized all too well from her own early days with Nyx.

As YN continued to shop, the baby in the buggy began to fuss, tiny whimpers breaking the quiet air around them. YN immediately turned her attention to her child, her smile softening as she bent down to pick up the baby, cradling him against her chest. She rocked gently, her lips moving in what Feyre could only assume were soothing words.

“Is that...?” Nesta started, her voice low as she observed the interaction.

“I think so,” Feyre replied, keeping her voice just as quiet. “The baby must be hers. The one she mentioned to Cassian and Rhys.”

Mor narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched YN. “She doesn’t seem like a threat. But still... there’s something more going on here.”

Feyre nodded in agreement. YN’s demeanour, her clothing, the way she cradled her baby—none of it aligned with the typical image of someone who might be a danger or have any influence over Azriel. She seemed more like a woman trying to balance the weight of motherhood with whatever burdens life had thrown her way.

They kept their distance as YN continued to shop, picking out a few more baby items and placing them in the buggy’s basket. Her movements were unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world, though the lines of tension in her posture suggested otherwise. Feyre noted how YN would glance around occasionally, her gaze lingering on the shadows, as if expecting someone or something to emerge from them.

As they trailed behind, YN paused in front of a shop that displayed more elaborate and ornate baby clothes, clearly beyond the simple, practical items she had been selecting. The baby fussed again, a soft cry escaping his tiny lips, and YN immediately lifted him out of the buggy, holding him close as she bounced him gently in her arms.

The women watched as YN whispered to her son, the love and care evident in every movement, every soft murmur. Feyre felt a pang of empathy for the young mother—she knew all too well the fears and challenges that came with raising a child, especially in a world as dangerous as theirs. But beneath that empathy was also a growing curiosity. What was YN’s connection to Azriel? And why was she so deeply enmeshed in his recent troubles?

As YN continued her slow stroll through the market, the shadows of the Hewn City seemed to close in around her, a stark contrast to the warmth she tried to create for herself and her newborn son. She adjusted the blanket around Knox, who had finally settled against her chest, his tiny breaths warm and steady against her skin. The cool air brushed against her cheeks as she looked around, scanning the shops with a mixture of exhaustion and resignation.

She pushed the buggy with one hand while holding Knox in the other, her movements careful and deliberate. The market was as lively as ever, with vendors calling out their wares and patrons haggling for better prices. The sounds echoed through the narrow streets, but YN seemed isolated in her own world, focused entirely on her son and the tasks she had to complete.

Feyre, Nesta, and Mor remained several paces behind, moving with practiced ease through the crowds, keeping YN within their line of sight. They observed her every movement—the way she delicately placed each item in the buggy’s basket, how she lingered over certain displays, and the protective way she held her son close to her heart. There was something undeniably tender about the way she interacted with Knox, a deep bond that resonated even from a distance.

“She seems so... normal,” Mor whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the market. “Not at all what I expected.”

“Maybe that’s why she’s so dangerous,” Nesta murmured, her eyes sharp as she watched YN pick up a small, hand-knit sweater. “If she’s involved with Azriel, she’s hiding it well.”

Feyre frowned slightly, torn between her suspicions and the simple reality of what she was witnessing—a mother, caring for her child, doing what she needed to do to survive in a place as unforgiving as the Hewn City. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for spying on YN, but she reminded herself of the stakes. Azriel was one of their own, and they needed to understand what was happening to help him.

YN moved to another stall, her gaze flicking over a selection of baby blankets. She reached out to touch the fabric, her fingers lingering on a soft, blue woolen blanket that was far more luxurious than anything she had chosen so far. She held it up, considering it for a long moment before shaking her head and placing it back on the pile. It was clear that practicality outweighed indulgence in her world.

Knox stirred slightly in her arms, his tiny fist clenching around the edge of her sweater as he fussed again. YN immediately shifted him, her voice low and soothing as she murmured to him. She kissed his forehead, her expression softening as he settled back into a peaceful sleep. She glanced around the market, her gaze momentarily distant, as if lost in thought. For a moment, she seemed entirely alone, despite the crowd bustling around her.

Mor tilted her head slightly, observing the way YN seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Whatever she’s involved in, it’s taking its toll.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Feyre said softly, though she couldn’t ignore the sense of unease settling in her chest. “She might not be a threat.”

Nesta’s expression remained hard, but there was a flicker of something softer in her eyes as she watched YN finally select a plain white onesie, placing it gently in the buggy. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

YN finished her shopping, her steps slow and measured as she made her way toward the edge of the market, the buggy rolling smoothly along the cobblestone streets. Knox was still cradled in her arms, his small face tucked against her shoulder. She seemed tired—more than just physically—but she moved with the determination of someone who had long grown accustomed to the weight of her burdens.

“Let’s give her space,” Feyre whispered, signaling to Nesta and Mor to hang back as they reached the outskirts of the market. “We’ll follow up with Rhys and Cassian later.”

They slowed their pace, letting YN disappear into the shadows of the narrow street ahead. As she faded from view, Feyre couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something crucial. There was more to YN than they had seen today, more than a young mother simply trying to care for her child in a difficult world.

YN stood at the base of the narrow, winding steps that led up to the small apartment she shared with Azriel, cradling Knox in her arms. The cool air of the Hewn City brushed against her skin, making her shiver slightly. The streets around her were quiet, the bustle of the market now a distant memory as she and her son returned home from their shopping trip.

Knox had fallen asleep during the short walk back, his tiny body relaxed and warm against her chest. She adjusted the blanket around him, pressing a soft kiss to his downy hair. His small, steady breaths were the only sound she focused on as she stood there, momentarily lost in her thoughts.

But the unease she’d felt earlier at the market lingered, a nagging sense of being watched that she couldn’t quite shake. She had caught glimpses of figures moving just at the edge of her vision, people who seemed to linger too long as she shopped, their attention on her more than the goods on display. YN had kept her composure, acting as though she hadn’t noticed, but her instincts told her something wasn’t right.

She took a deep breath, pushing the unsettling thoughts aside as she gazed up the stairs, preparing to climb them with Knox in her arms. Just as she was about to take her first step, the flutter of wings caught her attention, and she looked up to see Azriel descending from the sky, his shadows swirling around him as he landed silently in front of her.

His eyes, usually so composed and unreadable, softened when they met hers, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of him. Despite everything, despite the secrecy and the hidden life they shared, Azriel was her anchor.

"Azriel," she breathed, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief. She had been expecting him to be gone for longer, given the tension of the last few days.

“YN,” he greeted, his voice low and warm, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of his son nestled against her. But as he stepped closer, he immediately noticed the tension in her posture, the way her eyes darted around the street as if she was still on edge. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing around again, as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows. Finally, she met his gaze, her voice quiet but laced with concern. “I think I was being watched today. At the market. I... I could feel eyes on me, and not just in passing. It was deliberate, like someone was studying me.”

Azriel’s expression darkened instantly, the softness in his eyes replaced by a steely resolve. His shadows seemed to react to his mood, swirling more tightly around him as if preparing for a threat. “Did you see who it was?”

YN shook her head, frustration evident in the tight lines around her mouth. “No. I tried to be discreet, but whoever it was, they were good at staying out of sight. I didn’t want to draw attention by looking too hard.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched as he processed her words, his mind already racing through the possibilities. The Hewn City was full of people who could have an interest in YN, and not all of them would be friendly. The fact that someone had been watching her—someone skilled enough to remain undetected—was deeply troubling.

He stepped closer to her, reaching out to gently brush his fingers against her arm in a comforting gesture, though he kept his touch light, aware of the public space they were in. “We’ll figure out who it was. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

YN nodded, though her worry didn’t fully dissipate. She had known the risks of being with Azriel, but it didn’t make the reality of them any easier to face. She glanced down at Knox, who remained blissfully unaware in her arms, and her resolve hardened. She would do whatever it took to protect their son.

Azriel leaned in closer, his head dipping toward hers as if to whisper something, but she knew the movement was as much about shielding their interaction from any prying eyes as it was about speaking. His proximity was both a comfort and a reminder of the secrecy they were forced to maintain.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything. For not being able to protect you both the way I should.”

YN looked up at him, her expression softening as she reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “Don’t apologize. We knew what this would be when we chose it. We’ll figure it out together, like we always do.”

He nodded, though the tension didn’t fully leave his features. He lowered his gaze to Knox, his expression softening as he reached out to gently touch his son’s tiny hand. The baby stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small fingers curling around Azriel’s.

“I’ll be home tonight,” he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet hers again. “We’ll talk more then.”

YN nodded, understanding the unspoken promise in his words. “I’ll be waiting.”

Azriel lingered for a moment longer, his eyes searching hers as if to reassure himself that she was truly okay. Then, with one last glance around the deserted street, he stepped back, his wings flaring slightly as he prepared to take off again. YN watched him go, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, of the life they were forced to hide in the shadows.

---

Azriel sat at his desk in the dim light of his office, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he stared at the maps and reports scattered across the surface. The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint rustling of the papers as his shadows drifted over them, their movements restless and agitated. He couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease that had settled deep in his chest since YN had told him about being watched in the market.

His thoughts were a tangle of possibilities, each more troubling than the last. The Hewn City was a treacherous place, filled with spies and informants loyal to whoever paid the highest price. If someone had been watching YN, it could mean any number of things—a rival, an enemy, or even someone trying to get to him through her. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine, a rare surge of fear that he quickly buried beneath layers of calculated resolve.

But as he sat there, letting the silence settle around him, something didn’t quite add up. Whoever had been watching YN was skilled, yes, but the timing, the precision—it felt too familiar. His instincts, honed over centuries of espionage, were telling him that this wasn’t just a random occurrence. There was something more deliberate behind it, something closer to home.

It was then that the faint sound of voices reached his ears, muffled by the thick walls of his office but distinct enough for him to catch fragments of conversation. Azriel’s shadows swirled more tightly around him as he focused on the voices outside in the hallway, recognizing the low, familiar tones of Cassian and Mor.

“…I just wanted to be sure she wasn’t a threat,” Cassian was saying, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. “It’s not like we could just ask him outright.”

Mors voice responded, tinged with a mix of concern and frustration. “I get it, but what if he finds out? You know how protective he is—especially after everything that’s happened.”

“Rhys told us to keep an eye on her,” Mor continued. “We weren’t going to hurt her, just… observe. Make sure she wasn’t involved in anything that could put him or the rest of us in danger.”

Azriel’s breath caught, realization dawning like a slow, creeping shadow.

The inner circle.

It was the inner circle who had been watching YN, trailing her through the market, spying on her every move. His fists clenched beneath the desk, a mix of anger and betrayal swirling in his chest. They had been so close to finding out—so close to uncovering the one secret he had kept from them, the one part of his life he hadn’t allowed them to touch.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm, to not let his emotions betray him. There was no point in confronting them—not yet, at least. If they suspected YN of being a threat, it was only because they were trying to protect him, in their own misguided way. But the thought of them tailing her, of making her feel unsafe in the one place where she should feel protected… it made his blood boil.

Azriel pushed back from the desk, rising to his feet with a quiet, controlled movement. He had to get out of here before the anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior spilled over. He needed to be with YN, to ensure her safety and shield her from any further interference. He would deal with the inner circle later.

As he stepped out of his office, the voices in the hallway fell silent. Cassian and Mor looked up as he passed by, their expressions carefully neutral, though Cassian’s brow furrowed slightly as if he could sense something was off. Azriel didn’t acknowledge them, his face an unreadable mask as he walked past, but he could feel their eyes on him, could sense the questions lingering on their tongues.

Just as he reached the main hall, he was tackled by a blur of movement, the sudden impact almost knocking him off balance. He looked down to see Nyx, Rhys’s son, grinning up at him, his small arms wrapped tightly around Azriel’s leg. A second later, Agnar, Cassian’s son, joined in, his laughter ringing through the air as he attempted to climb up Azriel’s other leg.

“Uncle Azriel!” Nyx shouted, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “We got you!”

Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he ruffled Nyx’s dark hair. “It seems you did,” he replied, his voice softer than it had been all day. Despite the turmoil in his mind, he could never resist the infectious energy of his nephews.

He lifted Agnar into his arms, the boy’s wings fluttering excitedly as he settled against Azriel’s shoulder. Nyx clung to his other side, laughing as Azriel hoisted him up as well, balancing both boys with ease.

As he carried them down the hallway, he passed Rhys, who was leaning casually against the doorway of his office, arms crossed over his chest. Rhys raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on Azriel’s unusual demeanor.

“Azriel,” Rhys called out, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “Heading somewhere?”

Azriel met his gaze, his expression carefully guarded. “I’m taking a week off,” he said simply, his voice brokering no argument.

Rhys blinked, clearly taken aback. “A week off? Are you—��

“Don’t worry,” Azriel cut him off, shifting Nyx and Agnar slightly in his arms. “Everything will be handled.” He didn’t wait for Rhys to respond before he turned and continued down the hall, his steps purposeful as he made his way out of the house.

Once outside, Azriel set the boys down, giving each of them a quick hug before sending them back to the house. He watched them run off, their laughter echoing in the air, before he spread his wings and took off into the sky.

The wind whipped through his hair as he soared above Velaris, his mind already focused on the apartment where YN and Knox were waiting. Whatever plans the inner circle had, whatever suspicions they harbored, he would not allow them to come between him and his family.

Azriel landed silently on the balcony of their apartment, the cool night air whispering through his wings as he folded them behind him. The familiar creak of the floorboards under his boots as he stepped inside was a comforting sound, grounding him in the reality he had chosen—a reality where YN and Knox were his world, even if it had to remain hidden from everyone else.

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aurorawritestoescape · 9 months ago

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DIRTY SEXY MONEY || 1,1k || pt 2 of Like It’s The Last Time

Summary: Joel has fun with you after the heist.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, f!oral, size kink, squirting, cum eating, mention of violence and guns

Thank you @milla-frenchy for beta reading!<3

Part 3 || Series masterlist

*****

“What the hell..?”

You gawk at the sight in front of you, fingers clutching the towel wrapped around your body, still slightly wet from the shower.

“Hop on, baby. Gonna fuck you on it,” Joel growls standing at the side of the bed with a pile of 100 dollar bills scattered all over the ugly motel bedding. You two always fuck like rabbits after the heist but this is new.

His dark gaze is set on you as his bare foot pushes an open bag full of stacks of cash out of the way and he stalks towards you. He’s naked except for a towel hanging low on his hips, just out of the shower too. His slicked back hair is dripping wet, pupils are blown, as the adrenaline of the job is still coursing through his veins. A noticeable lump under the towel tells you he’s not going to tell you twice.

Your nervous giggle breaks the silence as you shuffle back from him, raising your hands in the air.

“N-no, Joel. It’s dirty…and we’re wet. No!”

He steps up close, caging you against the opposite wall, a smirk on his handsome face.

“ ‘course it’s dirty, baby. We earned it with our guns.”

His arms snake around your body and he squeezes you in his python-like grip.

“No, literally dirty,” you mumble as his embrace quickly overwhelms you, making you feel small and helpless. Your pussy is gushing for him as a drop of fear adds to the arousal pooling deep in your lower belly. He’d never hurt you but the terror that you saw in people’s eyes today at the bank is still fresh in your mind.

“Wanna eat you out on this dirty cash.”

His whisper sends chills down your spine as he slowly pulls you to the bed.

You follow him like you always do and in a second you both fall on the pile of money. He pins you with his massive side as your back dips into the heap of bills. Their crinkling sound mixes with your whimper when Joel unwraps your towel exposing your naked body to the cold air of the motel room. Your skin erupts in goosebumps and he groans at the sight of you.

He puts his big warm palm over the base of your throat and then glides it down between your breasts over your heaving belly and to your pussy that is already throbbing for him. He cups it and slightly squeezes your flesh like it belongs to him. It does belong to him.

“Tommy'll kill us,” you moan, lifting your hips into his touch. Joel nuzzles your cheek, breathing in your scent and then nibbles on your earlobe.

“He’s gettin’ shitfaced in some bar, baby. By the time he’s back and sober it’ll all be in the bag.”

“Do you trust me to keep this a secret, Miller?”

“Trust ya with my life, baby,” he rasps and kisses you.

It’s full of fire and passion as his tongue tangles with yours inside your welcoming mouth. The bills splash around when Joel takes his towel off, not leaving your lips even for a second, and shifts his body to get between your thighs, elbows planted by your shoulders. His hand slides under the back of your head, keeping you in place for him to devour.

The outside world stops existing when he holds you under his massive body like this. No more people, problems, fears, concerns. You’re not running anymore. Even if this feeling is fleeting, you cherish it like the most valuable gift.

You open your thighs wider to welcome his hard cock that twitches against your mound, the tip smearing precum over your belly.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you beg but he has other plans.

He parts from you and moves down, peppering open-mouth kisses on your neck and breasts. He sucks on your nipples, one and then the other and you squirm under him, moaning, fingers running through his wet hair.

He grunts from the sensation but then gets off the bed and kneels on the floor.

“Told ya ‘m gonna eat ya.” He grabs your ankles and pulls you to the foot of the bed making you gasp. You slide down on the money with ease, some of the dollar bills falling on the floor next to Joel.

“Spread ‘em wide.”

He presses on the insides of your thighs with his massive hands and a memory of those hands throwing a security guard into a wall just a few hours ago sends more slick to your dripping entrance. You lift yourself on your elbows and whimper at the image of him on his knees between your thighs.

“Fuck… so wet, baby… look at this,” he presses his tongue to your hole and pulls his head away, as you watch a string of arousal hang between his mouth and your pussy.

A few seconds later you’re nothing but a moaning trembling mess as he’s devouring your cunt like it’s his last meal before an execution.

His tongue is everywhere, gliding between your folds, swirling infinities over your clit, fucking into your clenching hole. A scream announces your climax and he drinks from you, humming with pleasure.

With a carnal gaze and a mischievous smirk, not waiting for your aftershocks to stop, he pushes two thick fingers into your soaked pussy. The first stroke tells you exactly what the devil wants from you.

“Oh fuck no, Joel!” You try to squirm up the bed but he grabs your hip pinning you to the bed with his strong hand, expression focused on the goal.

You slump into the cash with another nervous giggle and stare at the ceiling.

“C’mon, baby, let’s christen this batch,” Joel chuckles, pushing his thick digits in and out of your entrance, expertly coaxing another explosion out of you.

“Tommy’ll kill us,” you say again before he presses something deep inside you once, twice and your juices spurt out of your stretched hole, soaking Joel’s chest.

He pulls his fingers out but doesn’t stop playing with your pussy as he vigorously rubs it with his whole palm, making you come harder and squirt more. The drops of your liquid drizzle over the scrunched dollar bills and your heated bodies.

Through the haze in your eyes and mind you see Joel standing up, jerking his cock for a few moments and then painting your puffy folds with his pearly cum.

He plops on the bed next to you and pulls your exhausted body into his arms. It’s messy and filthy, you are both covered in cum as well as the money around you.

“I hate you, Joel,” you murmur into his neck as he holds you tight.

“Hate you too, baby,” he rasps and you two rest, spent and satisfied, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

Suddenly a knock on the door breaks the peaceful silence. One shared glance and you two rush to grab your guns.

*****

Thank you for reading! 🌸

Part 3 || Series Masterlist || MASTERLIST

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joelsmochi · 8 months ago

Text

indulge - joel miller

summary: part 2 to every man gets his wish

warnings: not proofread, porn no plot it just some self indulgent cunnilingus ;)

wc: 850

a/n: couldn’t sleep so i wrote this in 30 minutes to tire my brain >_<. enjoy <3

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The camera was in the way.

Your hips hanging off of the bed was prompted by Joel happily getting on his knees. He had a dream of what the angle might look like: camera on the floor, watching him destroy you with his tongue from below.

You couldn’t help but say sure when he asked, although it wouldn’t have taken you much convincing to begin with.

The camera was angled perfectly, showing off how sweetly your cunt glistened from the filthy mixture of your juices and Joel’s spit. His tongue was seen doing every trick in the fucking book, God it was fucking amazing.

But it didn’t feel quite right. Joel’s body wasn’t pressed against yours like usual when he ate you out; his arms weren’t wrapped around your thighs while he brutally suffocated your pussy with the intensity of his mouth. He was holding back, and you hated feeling teased.

The camera was in the fucking way.

Joel sensed it when you moaned but let out a slight huff at the end of it (for the thousandth time).

“What, baby? What’s got you irritated?” He sighed after pulling away.

You sat up slightly, shooting a pout at his puppy eyes.

“You’re holding back, you’re not on me,” you explained. “The camera’s in the way.”

He chuckled, “Well, yeah, darlin’. I gotta keep the camera steady.”

“Fuck the camera!”

You tugged his hair to shove his face back into your sopping wet skin, then shifted your body deeper into his.

With hands melting into your thighs and pressure from his shoulders you felt that lick of intimacy that your body required. His warm tongue lacing the letter of his name into your precious little clit while his stubble scraped tickles into your flesh set your body on fire.

The pitch of your moans grew higher every time your core took another daring step closer to the edge. Your knuckles were pale from your grip on his greying hair, thighs pushing the remaining air out of his lungs.

This was Joel’s favorite part of it all. The torture. The pain.

Fucking you so good you could only tighten your grip or your squeeze or scream into his ear — whatever it was — it was a high Joel’s would never fucking live down.

He figured from the last twenty minutes of teasing he’d wanna see this orgasm over and over and over again, so he slowed down just long enough to put the camera back on the tripod and angled it to see both of your bodies.

Then his eyes peered up and found your sweaty beet red face. Your ponytail was a mess and your baby hairs were stuck to your forehead.

Good God, he’d never seen you so pent up.

You were tired, worn out, and Joel was going to take care of everything for you.

Moaning into your clit, you shuddered, grieving the constant waves of your climax coming and going. He was working you up to the very last moment you could hold onto, knowing how much you needed this orgasm to break you even if you didn’t know it yourself.

The moment you began softly grinding against his face he knew it was time; he traded licking for sucking because it drove you fucking insane. Not just the motion, but the constant tug of your sensitive bud between his lips that made it so puffy and red kept you wanting more.

And when it broke you, Joel held you steady, watching you arch off of the bed and into his hold without making a sound. Your throat and chest filling with unheard sounds, eyes watering and flooding your cheeks with tears, until your body finally let you exhale.

“Fuck! Ahh! Holy— fuckfuckfuck—yes, Joel! Oh my fucking God—“

Loud, praising babbles emptied from you and flooded his ears.

He couldn’t stop now, could he? No fucking way you’d want him to let up. You were shaking and shivering and screaming for him like your life depended on it.

You looked so perfect to him as you died from pure bliss, not tapping out if it meant your orgasm would prevail forever.

And he held out as long as his body could live without air. His lips parted lazily, allowing him to take a deep breath.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, tasting the remnants of you that coated his puffy lips.

You laid back, body still shaking, allowing Joel to give you a few kisses down your thigh and one last lick between your swollen folds. He smoothed a hand over your stomach to help relax you, soothing you into a lightweight slumber.

He took care of the camera and the mess between your legs before carefully moving you up the bed to lay next to him. He pulled his navy blue covers over you and kissed your forehead, watching the smile that appeared on your face afterwards.

“Told you the camera was in the way,” you said cockily despite your sleepy tone, making him snicker.

“How ‘bout you keep that pretty little mouth shut ‘fore I find somethin’ to shove in it?”

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rollinouttahere-writes · 17 days ago

Note

Yandere Frankenstein's Creature Zoro x blind baker reader

The amount of yearning in my heart while writing this was unreal. Oh, to be a humble baker in a cozy cottage with a misunderstood monster husband. I will probably come back to this to add more later.

Blind Faith

Frankenstein's Creature Zoro x Blind GN Reader

6k words

Summary: Life as a lone baker is difficult, but you luck out one morning when a stranger offers to do some work for you in exchange for food. Set in 1820's America.

Warnings: yandere if you squint but Zoro is subtle so it largely flies under the radar from reader's perspective, mentions of serious illness and death common to the era

Like many mornings, the sensation of sunlight filtering in through the windows and warming your face was what stirred you from your sleep. For a moment, you bask in the warmth of it while nestling deeper into your quilts as the crisp autumn air nips at your nose. You take a deep breath, then force yourself to rise from your bed. If you were going to get anything accomplished today, you needed to get up and get the fire going in the beehive oven outside now.

Before even attempting to get yourself readied for the day, you trudge outside to start the fire. Wind blows through your hair and whips at your clothes. It’s got some force behind it, but not to the point of being a hindrance. The path to the oven has long since been memorized, and your hand instinctively reaches for where the handle to the iron door is and pulls it open. You stick your hand in, and you’re happy to find that the embers are still warm. With any luck, you’ll be able to rekindle the fire and save yourself at least one hassle this morning.

You hurry back to the cottage and feel around for the tools you’ll need. Your fingers brush over the bellow and poker and latch onto them. You exit your home, stopping briefly at the porch to grab an armful of firewood. Much to your chagrin, you’re reminded of how low your firewood supply has gotten when you’re forced to crouch all the way down to even feel any. You need to chop some more, but you’ll worry about that later.

Once you’re back at the oven, you push in one log, then stir the coals and embers with your poker, listening closely as they crackle gently. You drop the poker and switch to using the bellow to feed the embers the precious air that they crave. They pop and crackle louder, and you can feel more heat coming out of the oven. Then, finally, you can smell the wood burning. You load the rest of the logs into the oven one by one, prodding the coals and wood to encourage the fire to spread until a strong wave of heat is emitting from the opening. Satisfied that the fire will be able to keep itself going on its own now, you close the door and head back inside.

A similar process is repeated indoors with your fireplace, and after you have both fires taken care of, you finally focus on getting yourself ready for the day. While you fasten on your clothing, you go through a mental list of tasks that need to be done. While you wait for the oven to warm, you’ll have to get the bread dough prepared now so that it’s properly risen by the time it’s hot enough. Before that, you need to fetch some water from the nearby stream. Then you’ll tend to the chickens and cows outside. At some point today you’ll need to find the time to chop firewood, but you have no idea where exactly such time is hiding. So much to do, so little time, and absolutely no help.

You’re startled from your thoughts by a loud, firm knocking at your door. It gives you pause. The townsfolk knew that you wouldn’t have anything ready for them so early. When everything was done, you would load it into a cart to sell it in the town square, so you had no idea why someone would be here now, or frankly, at all.

Another series of knocks rings out from the front door, this time pushing you into action. You go to the door, a short trip given the small size of your cottage, wondering who could be here and for what purpose. You pull open the door, ready to greet them, only for whoever is outside to grab the handle and close the door again. For a moment, you’re stunned into silence from the unusual action. Before you can ask what on earth they hope to accomplish by shutting your own door in your face, your visitor speaks through the door.

“Don’t come out. Just listen to me.” The voice is deep and masculine. Based on how high up his voice is coming from, you can tell that this man must be awfully tall.

The request is odd, but you choose to indulge him. “Very well… Might I ask what you’re here for? I just awoke, I don’t have anything baked yet.”

“I saw you outside just now. I can see that you’re low on firewood, and I was hoping you might be willing to trade me food in turn for me chopping wood for you.”

His offer comes as a relief to you. What a perfect occurrence this was! Now you wouldn’t be fighting to make the time to do this task yourself. While you didn’t have the money to pay someone for such work, you could easily spare some food for this stranger.

“It doesn’t have to be much, I’ll take table scraps. Anything. Please consider my offer.” The man’s tone took on a hint of desperation this time around, making you feel a twinge of guilt in your heart for causing him unnecessary stress.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t just give you scraps. I’ll make sure you have a proper meal and then some if you would do that for me.” You’re quick to assure him, not wanting him to think that you would be so unappreciative of his generous offer.

A sigh of relief comes through the door, followed by a dull thud from the top of the door, “Thank you, I promise you that I’ll cut as much firewood as you could possibly need. I just have one more request to make.”

“What would that be?”

The once desperate and wary manner of speech is gone, and has become much more stern, “You need to stay inside until I’m done, and you can’t look out the windows either.”

For a moment, you’re left speechless by his request, but you quickly find your voice, “I apologize, but I simply can’t abide by that. I have duties today that require for me to be outside. I-”

He cuts you off, now sounding frantic, “I’ll do those for you, too. Just tell me what to do.”

“Why are you so insistent on this? I can assure you that I won’t get in your way.” As much as you want to accept his help, his behavior was rapidly becoming ridiculous.

“You can’t look at me. I won’t do this for you if you see me.”

Again, you pause. Then you laugh. “Well, if that’s all you’re concerned of, then you can rest your heart.” You chuckle again and take his silence as your cue to keep talking, “You must not be from around here.”

“I… I’m not. I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

Rather than using your words, you take advantage of his guard being down to wrench the door open. You can hear him stumble and catch himself on the doorway. The wood of the porch and door creak loudly under his weight, and you can hear his breathing stop as he freezes in place. You face where you believe his face to be, hoping that you’re “looking” at him.

“It does have something to do with this conversation. If all that you’re fretting over is being seen, then you have nothing to fear from me. I am quite blind, as you -and only you- can see.”

You stand in the doorway, giving him a chance to take in what you said. You can tell that he’s very close to you now, likely hanging over you. Not only can you feel his body heat radiating off of him, but your senses are flooded by his scent. Overwhelmingly, he smelled like musk and sweat, as if he had just finished a long, laborious day of work. Alongside that, his smell reminded you of the woods. Earthy, but also carrying the distinct smell of moss. Under all that was a much shaper, less natural scent. It stung your nose and tickled the back of your throat like a potent alcohol, but stronger.

After a few seconds of silence between you two, you can feel the rush of air in front of your face, presumably from him waving his hand in front of it. A few more seconds passed, and you heard him quietly mumble, “You can’t see me…” It’s said as a statement rather than a question, but you nod in confirmation anyway.

Wood creaks again, and suddenly his voice is closer, now coming from above your head, “And it’s just you here?”

“That is correct. I’m not quite sure what it is you’re trying to hide by not being seen, but I can promise you that your secret is safe with me.” You make an effort to keep your voice jovial, not wanting to give this anxious man any reason to be doubtful or wary of you. You hold out your hand in front of you, “Now then, do we have a deal? Firewood for food?”

There is a moment of silence, then a surprisingly large hand encases yours. It’s rough and calloused, and you’re certain that you can feel scar tissue on it. His voice is quiet, “Yes, we have a deal.” He shakes your hand, and you find it to be a remarkably gentle handshake given his apparent size. It feels like he could easily shake your entire self with one hand if he so pleased, but he doesn’t. He releases you, and you can hear the doorframe groan as he pushes himself off of it, “I’ll get started on it now.”

“Wait,” Your hand blindly juts out to grab onto him, this time landing on his wrist. Your fingers ghost over what feels like even more scar tissue, and you briefly wonder if that is what he was so worried about being seen. You can’t be sure, but you figure it’s best not to call attention to it, so you continue, “I would like to know the name of the man helping me.”

“You… want to know my name?” The way he says it makes it seem like this is the first time he’s ever been asked for his name. You nod, gently encouraging him to share it. He pauses for reasons unknown to you, then speaks again, “Zoro… you can call me that.”

“Very well. Thank you, Zoro. Your help couldn’t have come at a better time. The ax is in the shed over where the chickens are. I need to go fetch some water now, but I’ll be around after that if you require any help.” With that said, you grab the pails by the door and slip past him to go to the stream.

The path to the stream has long since been memorized. As a child, you would tag along with whichever member of your family was sent to gather water that day. You even had your own much smaller pail to bring with back then so that you could participate. There were plenty of days where you would come back with an almost -and sometimes fully- empty bucket because you shook it about too much while walking, or because you tripped over an object you couldn’t see coming. Fortunately, you’ve gotten much better at keeping steady and catching yourself when you stumble over the years.

Insects and birds chatter and sing around you as you go deeper into the forested area behind your family’s home, and before long, you can hear the bubbling rush of water coming from the stream. You close in on it, taking smaller, more cautious steps to ensure you don’t walk past the bank and into the water. Once the ground becomes more soft and unsteady, you know that you’re close enough and hold out a pail while bending down, allowing the water to flow into it. You set the first one on the bank next to you, then fill the next. As soon as they’re both filled, you pick up one in each hand and begin the walk back home. The buckets are heavy now, but at least you don’t have far to go.

By the time you’re out of the woods, you can hear the familiar sound of wood splitting as an ax cuts through it. It’s quite nice to only be listening to such an act rather than doing it yourself for once. You’ve been alone for a few years now ever since your father passed from consumption. Your mother had died years prior after letting herself waste away when your youngest sibling suffered a fatal bout of scarlet fever. Your remaining siblings had filtered out one by one, searching for better opportunities elsewhere. While you missed them terribly, you couldn’t bring yourself to resent them for leaving. Life as a humble baker was a meager existence. Your father would often go to the city for long periods of time to work industrial jobs just to make ends meet while your mother baked for the town.

Your brothers and sisters tried to convince you to join them, no doubt fretting over how you would handle life on your own considering your condition, but you’re nothing if not resilient. Your parents taught you well how to survive on your own, and the local townsfolk are kind enough to help you with the odd task that does absolutely require sight.

From the sound of it, Zoro is doing just fine on his own, so you leave him be and go inside your home. The pails of water are left by the front door, and you go into the kitchen area to gather everything you’ll need to make bread. The oven outside still needs a couple of hours to reach the proper temperature, but the house is cold this time of year, so the dough will need extra time to rise.

Using a small bowl, you scoop out what feels like the appropriate amount of water for your task, then set it in the hot embers in the fireplace to warm up so the yeast will be able to thrive in it. While the water warms, you slip back outside to toss some more logs into the oven. You crouch down to grab the few remaining logs that should still be there from this morning, but you’re surprised to find the pile noticeably higher than you remembered it being. Had you missed some, or had Zoro really made this much progress in such a short time? You feel around a bit more, and sure enough, the log store is half full.

Well then. He’s certainly earning his meal. You’ll have to get started on his food as soon as the bread dough is taken care of at the rate he’s going.

Realizing that you’re working against the clock, you make quick work of hauling an armful of logs to the oven and pushing them inside. Once you’re back indoors, you mix together the flour and salt for the bread, then check the temperature of the water. Finding it suitable, you mix in sugar and yeast and leave it to activate. While it’s doing that, you make your way down to the cellar to grab some vegetables and meat. The cold air of the cellar chills you, prompting you to pull your clothes around you tighter. You use your apron to hold the vegetables you’ll need, then open the cask you had recently stored some brined meat in.

While you don’t know what Zoro’s tastes are when it comes to food, you assume he can’t be picky if he was begging for scraps. You think he’ll appreciate a hearty venison pie after working so hard.

You exit the cellar, and you’re about to go back inside when you hear your chickens milling about and clucking. You curse internally and rush into the house to drop the ingredients on the table. The surprise of Zoro’s arrival completely threw you off your usual schedule and your duties to the farm animals slipped your mind. You feel around for the bucket containing yesterday’s scraps, then make haste to the chicken coop. While the chickens primarily forage for their own food by eating the weeds and insects on the property, you know that they enjoy the scraps.

The chickens crowd around you as soon as they see the bucket, clucking excitedly and pecking at your shoes and clothes in what you’re going to assume is an expression of affection rather than impatience. You turn over the bucket and scatter its contents as best you can, instantly making the birds disperse so they can get their fill. While they’re happily eating, you open the panels on the coop to gather any eggs laid since you last checked and place them in the now empty bucket. There weren’t that many eggs today, but you have plenty in the home already, so it’s hardly a problem.

Once the chickens are tended to, you go over to the barn housing your cattle. They’re largely fed by grazing in the pasture, only being supplemented with hay during the winter. All that you need to do pressingly is let them out into the pasture. You’ll have to come out and milk the lactating cows later because they most certainly won’t let you do that until after they’ve had a chance to graze.

Climbing over the fence is an easy task for you after years of repetition. The bucket is left on the other side, and you find your way to the barn doors and unlatch them, allowing them to swing open. The cattle waste no time and exit the barn, lowing quietly as they walk past you with little acknowledgment. At least until you feel something bump against your stomach with some force. Enough to make you sway, but not so much as to lose your footing. You chuckle and reach down to pet the excitable calf.

“Good morning. Is this your way of telling me that I took too long?” You scratch the calf’s head as it moos and bumps against you repeatedly. You only had three calves this spring, but this one by far was the most friendly. She always stops to try and get you to play with her before catching up with her mother after.

She nudges you a few more times before running off to either find her mother or try to get the other calves to play. You leave the pasture and walk along the fence until you can find the bucket, then finally head back to your cottage to resume your baking. The shortest path back takes you past the stump where you usually cut firewood, and you can clearly hear Zoro continuing to plug away at the task.

As you draw near, you call out to your helper, “Is everything going well out here?”

The consistent chopping ceases. His breathing is labored, and he takes a moment to catch his breath before answering, “Yes, everything is fine.”

“That’s lovely. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. It’s hard to make time to do this myself.” You continue walking until you’re roughly in front of him. “I hope you like venison, I’m making a pie for you.”

You can hear his hands tighten around the wooden handle of the ax. “You… You’re making a pie? For me?”

His surprise confuses you. “Of course. That was our deal, was it not? You’re chopping my firewood, and I’m making you a meal.”

Zoro falls silent as he seemingly takes the time to mull over your words, then vocalizes why he was surprised, “I didn’t think you were going to make me something. I had expected to be given raw ingredients at best.”

“What kind of baker do you take me for?” Your hands settle on your hips and you huff indignantly. “I’m already making food as it is, why wouldn’t I take the time to make something for you?”

Grass crunches under his feet as he shifts between them, “I don’t have an answer for that. Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

The genuine confusion and remorse in his voice gives you pause and tugs at your heart. Just what has he been through to be so cynical towards people? You sigh and shift the bucket of eggs to your other hand, “Don’t apologize, I’m not truly upset.” You reach out and wave your hand around until it finds purchase on his arm, “I’m going to provide you a hot meal in exchange for your help. Not ingredients, nor table scraps, a meal. It will take some time for everything to be ready, but you’re welcome to come inside once you’re done out here until it’s finished, then we can eat.”

“We? You want to eat… together?”

“Yes? I don’t see why not. Unless you have somewhere you need to be, in which case I’m more than willing to let you take it with you so long as you bring the dishes back.” You hadn’t even considered that he may have other commitments to tend to.

For once, his answer comes quickly. His voice is almost bashful, “No! I mean, no. I have nowhere else to be. I want to eat here if you’ll let me.”

“Of course I will. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn't really want to. I look forward to you joining me for dinner.”

Zoro says something else just above a whisper, though you can’t quite decipher it. He clears his throat, then speaks at a more audible level, “Yes. I look forward to it as well.” You can hear the scrape of wood being placed on the stump to cut it and take that as your sign to leave him be, and the chopping of wood resumes shortly thereafter.

It’ll take a few hours for all of the food to be prepared, so you get started right away. The bread dough is mixed together and set on the mantle of the fireplace to rise. After that, you prepare some pie and tart crusts, then focus on prepping the various fillings for them. Most of the fillings were fruit based, but then you also had to prepare the venison pie separately.

A three-legged spider pan is set by the fire with some lard in it to warm up, and you fill a pot with water and potatoes and hang it over the fire with the pot crane. While waiting for the pan to warm and the water to boil, you clean and chop everything you need for the filling. Onions, parsnips, carrots, mushroom, and venison are all mixed together and seasoned in a bowl, then poured into the now sizzling pan with some beef stock. As it all cooks, your mouth waters from the onslaught of delicious smells within your house.

After a few minutes of searing the vegetables and meat, you remove the pan from the fire and scrape its contents back into the bowl. The filling is then poured into an empty pie tin and covered with the remaining crust. You carry it back to the fireplace and set your dutch oven over some hot coals before placing the pie inside. The lid is put in place and covered with additional coals and embers, and you leave it be to bake. Normally, you would use the beehive oven outside to bake your pies, but you chose to use the dutch oven today since the other one will likely be too full when everything else is set inside.

Once everything that you planned to sell was prepared, you begin carrying it out to the oven. The loaves of bread went in first, followed by the pies, and then the small tarts. Fire licks at your hands as you push everything in with your peel, but your skin has long since grown accustomed to such heat. You finish loading the oven and close the hatch.

You take a moment to listen to your surroundings and find that you can’t hear Zoro chopping wood anymore, so he’s likely finished by now. Dinner should be completed soon, so that works out well. You go over to where the log store is and stick your hands in to see how much wood he cut only to find it overflowing. Not only is it filled to the brim, you can feel logs placed on top of as well as around it. You had heard him coming and going to the log store while you were inside, but you hadn’t realized just how much it had added up until now. You’re beginning to question if one meal truly suffices for this much work. Perhaps you’ll let him take an additional fruit pie as well.

It’s unclear where exactly he is presently, but you’re sure he’ll make himself known sooner rather than later. In the meantime, you return to your kitchen to put the finishing touches on the meal. The pot containing the potatoes is drained and you set to work mashing them with some butter, salt, and pepper.

Heavy footsteps approach the cottage, stalling momentarily before climbing up the stairs. There’s a knock on the door, much softer now than it was this morning.

“Just let yourself in!” You call out over your shoulder.

There is some hesitation from Zoro, then the door is pushed open and he steps inside. The door falls shut behind him, and he remains close to it, not yet venturing into the small home. He’s an awfully sheepish man, you’ve noticed.

“Go ahead and sit at the table, dinner is almost ready.” The potatoes feel consistently mashed by now, so you switch out the masher for a serving spoon and walk over to the table to set it down.

Floorboards groan under each step he takes as he accepts your invitation to sit down. The legs of the chair scrape across the floor as he pulls it out, then sits down. You fetch some plates, mugs, and silverware to set the table with. Zoro remains silent as you get everything in place, so you decide to make an effort to converse with him, “Thank you for taking care of the firewood for me. I ought to be set for a while now.”

“It was nothing…” Zoro’s voice is quiet and somewhat tense.

“Oh, hush. You did a great deal of work for me, take credit for it.” You reach out to pat his shoulder reassuringly. Unfortunately, you failed to take his seemingly staggering height into account. Your fingers brushed against his chest, missing his shoulder by a wide margin. It would be polite to readjust and move your hand, but you’re struck by something. “You’re not wearing a shirt. Aren’t you cold?” Winter may not be upon you yet, but the autumn air was already quite chilly.

Zoro shifts in his seat, prompting you to pull your hand back. His fingers drum against the table as he answers your question, “Don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a single shirt? Oh, that won’t do at all, you’ll catch your death out there. One moment.” You excuse yourself to the other side of the cottage. Your home is one single large room. The kitchen that doubles as a living area is on the side closest to the door, while a couple of beds are pressed up against the wall on the other side. When the house was still full, your parents slept in one while you and all your siblings piled into the other. Now it was just you sleeping in your siblings’ shared bed while your parents’ bed was left empty.

Your father’s old clothes were stored under his bed. You crouch down and feel around until you can feel the basket they’re stored in. It’s pulled out, and you rummage through the clothes until your fingers skim over the coarse wool of your father’s shirt. You pull it out and run your hands over the article to confirm that it is indeed the one you were looking for. Nostalgic memories of clutching your father’s clothes while he carried you to and fro as a child flooded your mind, though you’re quick to dismiss them. Your guest is cold and you would hate to keep him waiting.

The basket is kicked back under the bed as you return to Zoro’s side and present him with the shirt. “Here, try this on. My father wasn’t quite as sturdy as you, but I’m hopeful that it will suit you.”

His hands brush yours as he takes it from you. The fabric rustles quietly as he pulls it on. After a moment, you hear him murmur to himself, “It’s warm…”

“So it fits? I’m relieved to hear that. You’re welcome to keep it.”

“You are okay with that?” There is an element of surprise to his voice.

“I am. I’m sure my father would have wanted his old clothes to find further use. It is yours to keep.” You place your hand on his shoulder, successfully this time, and squeeze it gently. The fabric of the shirt is taut on his frame, but you assume it must fit at least somewhat comfortably if he wants to keep it.

You release his shoulder and go over to the fireplace. The venison pie should be ready by now, and you don’t want to make him go hungry any longer than necessary. You use a hook to pull the lid off the dutch oven, then pull the pie out after covering your hands with rags. The pie is placed at the approximate center of the table. “I’ll get us something to drink, and then we can eat.”

The plot of land your family owns is rife with apple trees, so you’re never lacking in apple cider. You grab one of the bottles of alcohol from the cupboard, as well as something to cut the pie with, then return to the table. You feel for the mugs, then pour a generous serving into each. The plates are loaded with food next, with Zoro’s portion being particularly large after how hard he worked today. You set his plate in front of him, then sit down across from him with your own.

In the time it took you to sit down, he had already begun to eat. The speed with which his utensils scrape against his plate indicates to you that he was absolutely ravenous, as well as seemingly unbothered by how hot the food may still be. You eat your meal at a slower pace, enjoying the savory pie and potatoes. Making conversation now feels like it would be a wasted effort. Zoro is clearly not going to want to entertain one while he’s eating like a starved man.

As the scrapes and sound of chewing slow, then eventually stop, you speak up, “Was it to your liking?” The question is asked half in jest. Partially because he ate it in what felt like seconds, but mostly because you’re fairly certain that he hardly had a chance to taste any of it.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

The genuinity of the statement strikes your heart and warms it. A smile tugs at your lips. This was far from your first compliment on your food given your profession, but the sheer conviction and reverence in his voice made it feel different. You swallow your food, then respond, “I’m glad. You’re welcome to seconds if you’re still hungry.”

Much to your relief, he forgoes questioning you for once and simply helps himself to more. You can hear him resume eating again, though at a significantly less frantic pace. After a moment, Zoro clears his throat, “I wanted to ask something of you.”

“Yes? Is there something you need?” It’s relieving that he’s finally starting to be more forthcoming after getting some food in him.

“I… I don’t have anywhere to stay. I was wondering if you would allow me to sleep in the shed. I’ll work for it. I can do whatever you need me to do. I’ll cut as much firewood as you could ever need, I’ll hunt for you, do chores for you, anything.”

“The shed? Surely you noticed the hole in the roof.” You can’t see, but even you can feel the elements coming through where the roof caved in at.

“I won’t complain. Please… Please consider it. I swear on my life that I won’t burden you. I’ll stay out of your way.”

All that you can do is balk at his request. To be so desperate and destitute that you would plead and beg just to sleep in a dilapidated shed is a level of poverty that even your poor family hadn’t known. “I can’t in good conscience let you sleep in the shed.”

His protest comes immediately, laced with pain and desperation, “Please-”

“There is an empty bed in the home. If you’re willing to bunk with a stranger, I would allow you to stay here.”

The room falls silent, and then his voice shakes as he speaks again, “You’ll let me stay in your home? In a bed?” From the way he utters the words, you almost wonder if he’s never been permitted to sleep in a bed before. Your mind whirls with questions as to how such circumstances could occur, but you quickly realize that this moment isn’t suitable for such pondering. Zoro needs an answer, and it would be cruel, in your opinion, to make him wait for it.

“I recognize that it is unusual to offer this to a stranger, but you’ve been mild mannered thus far. That, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t struggling to maintain everything around here on my own ever since my siblings left. Your help would be deeply appreciated if this arrangement is truly what you want.” You’re certain that your siblings would have a conniption if they were aware of the deal you’re making right now, but they aren’t here. The only interaction you have with them anymore is when you get one of your customers to read aloud the letters they send you. It’s unlikely that they’ll ever even know of him.

Both of your hands are abruptly encased in two much larger hands. Zoro clutches your hands like a lifeline, “That is what I want. I’ll be in your debt if you allow it.”

“There’s no need for such dramatic language. It’s hardly a debt if you’re working for your stay.” You gently squeeze his hand back.

“You don’t understand what exactly you’re doing for me… it means more than you know.”

“Then I suppose we have a deal, don’t we?”

Zoro lets out a shuddering breath as his grasp on your hands loosens, “Thank you. You won’t regret this.” He relinquishes your hands fully, and his chair creaks as he settles back into it.

Dinner resumes in a comfortable silence. This is certainly an interesting change in your life, but you have faith in this person. Zoro seems like an earnest man who has faced more than his share of strife, but you think that he’ll fit in well around here. He’s definitely most skittish about being seen, but you’re hopeful that as time goes by and he becomes more comfortable that you’ll be able to introduce him to the locals. You think the socialization would do him some good.

But, that will come at a later date. The excursion you’ll make into town after dinner to sell today’s goods will have to be a solo trip, but that’s fine. You’ve done such a task more times than you can count. The only difference today is that you’ll have someone to come home to. For now, you choose to focus on your new company and feel thankful for the positive change that you’re confident he will bring to it.

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