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joelmillerisapunk · 3 days

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Beach Daddy III. I can do it with a broken heart

Rich daddy!Joel x F!reader

Series Masterlist • Masterlist

Wordcount: 12,532

Summary: After a day of emotional turmoil, you find solace in a chance encounter with Joel, who invites you to his secret deck.

Warnings: 18+, Joel and reader get closer, Todd does fuckboy things, reader really goes through it in this one, it's like a lil baby soap opera up in here for everyone.

Notes: Welcome, welcome, dear friends. Sorry this is so long. I never know where to end the chapters 😂 so I just add more. Your comments, asks, and reblogs are always so welcome! I appreciate everyone who's in this with me.

You walk out of Amorebelle with light pink clothing bags weighing down each arm, wearing a new outfit. You can't remember a time when you've gotten this many new clothes at once. You also find it hard to wrap your head around the fact that these clothes cost more than you make in an entire year.

The saleswomen Jane and McKenzie won't let you look at the price tags, but as they're ringing up your picks, you catch a glimpse of the total on the computer screen. You can't help but wonder how you'll ever be able to pay Joel back for this shopping trip.

You also can't help but wonder how often he does this for women.

Jane, who's worked at the shop the longest, had recognized him when you walked in the door. You don't have time to contemplate this because you notice a maid you recognize from the yacht. She makes her way to you and starts relieving you of your bags. You make sure to keep the bag with your dress and shoes for the evening.

"Miss, I was told to take these to your room on the ship while you are at your appointment," the maid tells you.

"What appointment?" you ask her, confused.

"You have an appointment at the salon three stores up.”

"Did Joel set this up for me?" you ask, feeling even more surprised.

"Yes, ma'am," the maid says with a smile.

You're glad that the boutique you've been shopping in has a shower where you're able to rinse off before this appointment. They must be used to sandy beachgoers coming in right before a night out.

You make your way up the street and stop at the salon with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. From the outside, you can see the row of chairs, each in front of its own mirror.

You walk in, and the man at the front desk assures you that you do, in fact, have an appointment, full hair, and makeup, which is all prepaid.

The receptionist walks you back to your stylist, an attractive man whose hair color matches yours. "What do you have in mind today, sweetheart," your stylist asks you.

"I'm honestly not sure. Can I leave it up to you?" you ask.

"That's my favorite request," he says as he runs his fingers through your hair. "Your natural coloring is gorgeous, obviously, I am not going to touch that. So, I'm thinking a quick trim and a blowout."

He has your hair and makeup done within an hour, and you barely recognize yourself in the mirror. You're amazed that your hair is perfectly smooth, with not a single strand of frizz to be found. You gently run your fingers through your hair and can't believe how soft it is.

"What do you think?" the stylist asks you. He hands you a small mirror and turns you in the chair so you can get a better view of the back of your hair.

"Is this really my hair?" you ask, holding up the smaller mirror.

"Of course, sweetheart. You look amazing," he says with a smile.

"I didn't know I could love my hair this much.” You admit.

"So, go enjoy it!" he says with a huge smile.

"I will. I love it. Thank you so much," you say enthusiastically.

You walk out of the salon's front door in your midnight blue silk dress with shining hair, and you feel amazing. For the first time since the breakup, you feel like you can do a whole lot better than Todd.

"All I can say is wow," says Joel. He's been waiting for you outside of the salon.

"I hardly recognize myself," you say with a laugh.

"I wasn't commenting on the dress or your hair. I was impressed by your confidence. It looks good on you darlin," Joel says, looking you up and down unabashedly.

You feel your cheeks get hot. You don't understand how Joel always says exactly what you need to hear.

"But, I do have to admit I was right about that dress; it does look amazing on you," Joel says with a wink.

"I don't know how to thank you–" but Joel cuts you off before you can finish thanking him.

"Please, you don't need to finish what you were about to say. You deserved it. Simple as that."

"Okay," you say with a smile. "Well, then I just want you to know that today has been the best day I have had in a long time." You like that Joel isn't the kind of man who gives gifts because he likes the praise that follows.

"The restaurant is just a few blocks over. I can call for a ride," he says, pulling out his phone.

"Yeah, we could get a ride over," you say and grab his phone. "But, it's such a beautiful night; why don't we walk?" It is a beautiful night, but if you're being honest with yourself, you want to walk to soak up as much time alone with Joel as you can.

Joel smiles and offers you his arm. You notice his new suit jacket goes perfectly with your new dress. You bite your lip to keep yourself from asking if he picked it on purpose, but you secretly hope he had.

"This town is beautiful; I'm surprised that it isn't busier," you say, looking up at the bistro lights strung across the streets in a zig-zag pattern. The light is just barely fading, and the cool breeze catches the slit in your dress, making the end lightly flutter around your ankles as you walk.

"It is a well-kept secret," Joel says.

"For the rich and famous?" you ask.

"Well, kinda, but the locals who live here are what make this place so amazing. The restaurant we’re headed to has some of the best food I've ever eaten. But the chef is just a local man who perfected his art form. Never went to culinary school; just cooked because he loved it."

"How do you know all that about him?" you ask.

"My family has vacationed here for as long as I can remember. When I got tired of listening to my parents argue, I would go exploring the island. I’ve gotten to know a lot of the locals over the years," he explains.

You walk up to a building with a large illuminated sign reading The Coastal Hibiscus. The restaurant has a large deck area with a perfect view of the ocean. As you make your way up the front steps, you drop your hand from Joel's arm, not wanting Sarah to get the wrong idea.

You arrive at the restaurant last, finding the entire party already seated. As you enter, the conversation slows, and Todd's gaze locks onto you, a sense of satisfaction washing over you from the look on his face.

Only two seats remain, so you sit between Alison and Hudson. Joel takes a seat directly across from you, next to his daughter.

"I love that dress on you, by the way." Alison says with a little smile.

"Thanks," you reply as the waiter distributes menus.

"Where did you take off to? I haven't seen you since you went with Sarah's dad to find the dolphins," Alison asks.

"Oh, we never found them, so we just drove around for a long time looking for them," you lie, staring intently at the menu. You don't want to share the details of the intimate day you spent with Joel.

"That's too bad," Alison says, joining the group's conversation about where everyone plans to 'winter' that year.

You continue to look at your menu, overwhelmed by the number of choices. Finally, you look up to see Joel staring at you. You silently mouth 'What should I get?' across the table.

He smiles at you and mouths back 'The lobster.'

When the food arrives, you're grateful for his suggestion. His choice is amazing; the lobster is cooked so well that it feels like it melts in your mouth.

You sit peacefully sipping a glass of wine and listening to the group's conversation, stealing glances at Joel. The waiter brings around dessert menus, and you order a slice of cheesecake, one of your favorites.

A few minutes later, the waiter sets a piece of cheesecake in front of you, and placed delicately in the whipped cream is a stunning cushion cut diamond engagement ring. Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart stops. As you try to make sense of what's happening, you hear Todd whisper angrily to the waiter, "No, not her!"

No one seems to notice the mix-up, and a few seconds later, the engagement ring cheesecake is placed in front of Sarah instead. Her small squeak alerts the rest of the table to what's going on.

"Sarah, will you make me the luckiest man in the world? Will you marry me," Todd says, down on one knee next to Sarah.

"Of course, I will." Sarah immediately answers. She jumps up and hugs Todd, all the while letting out ear-piercing squeals.

You look across the table and see Joel's eyes locked on you. Did he see them place the ring in front of you and your reaction to it?

The restaurant feels like it's closing in around you. You have to get out. You quietly slide your chair away from the table, leaving your ringless cheesecake untouched, and walk out into the open air. You start walking toward the ocean; the water has turned from a vibrant blue to an ominous black. The glassy surface reflects the light of the moon, which sits alone in the sea of darkness.

You continue walking, your feet aching in the heels, but to your relief, you recognize the yacht docked in a nearby marina. The crew must have sailed over to this marina to drop off the rest of the group while Joel and you were in the shops. So you make your way towards it. However, even before you reach the docks, the tears have already started falling down your face. You wipe them away quickly, not wanting to stain your new dress. The sound of footsteps behind you has you hurrying to the yacht. Whoever is following you, you do not want to speak to them–not now.

Not even if it's Joel.

—

"Todd, I'm so glad we finally get to spend some time together. It seems like I barely get to see you anymore. I'm so sorry I've been so busy," you said, smiling at your fantastic boyfriend. You really missed him, but with graduation so close, you had to put all of your efforts into studying.

"I'm glad you finally found some time for me," Todd said in a flat tone. You guessed you deserved that, but the comment still stung.

"Where do you want to go eat? I heard there’s a great new sushi place just a few blocks over," you said, trying to switch the mood to a more positive one.

"Yeah, that works," Todd muttered as he pulled out his phone to send a text.

You started walking over, but you couldn't help but feel like something was off, and you relaxed as Todd's fingers locked with yours.

"So, how’s work going?" you asked. Todd had graduated with his Bachelor's degree the year before and started working for his dad's financial firm after that.

"It's been great. You would not believe some of the people I help with their investments. Every single one of them was a millionaire before they were thirty. That is going to be me; just you wait."

"I know you will be, Todd," you said as the hostess showed you to your table. "If anyone can make it happen, you will."

"It wouldn't hurt to have a rich wife. Then, we'd become millionaires together," Todd said and smiled at you. He had always been so proud of the fact that you were working towards being a lawyer. You were so relieved that he recognized your time studying was for your future together.

The waiter walked over to your table and asked if you were ready to order. Todd ordered multiple plates of sushi, and then the waiter turned to you.

"I'll have an order of the California rolls and a water," you handed the menu back to the waiter and looked up to see Todd with a strange expression on his face.

"California rolls?" Todd asked as the waiter walked away.

"It's the best deal on the menu. I'm saving for my books. I don't know if I’ll be able to qualify for another loan," you said, slightly defensive. You knew Todd hated how cheap you were, but you had to be if you were going to be able to afford to put yourself through school. You knew he didn't understand; his dad paid for his education.

Todd pulled out his phone again and sent another text. You tried not to let it bother you; it was probably something for work.

You spent the rest of dinner talking about the different investments Todd was making on others' behalf and how one of his clients had just purchased their first private island.

"I'm going to run to the restroom before we head out," Todd said and got up, not realizing he had left his phone sitting face up on the table.

As soon as he walked away, his screen lit up with a text message. All you could see from where you sat was the contact name, 'Her.' Your heart sank.

The screen went black, and you took a deep breath. Todd walked back from the restroom, smiling at you.

"You ready to go?" he asked you as he made it to your table.

"Absolutely."

"Why don't we catch a movie?" Todd asked, grabbing your hand again as you walked out of the restaurant.

"Sure. What do you want to go see?”

—

You slam the door of your room and rest your back against it, catching your breath. You had to get away from whoever was following you out of the restaurant. You can't face anyone after witnessing Todd's engagement to someone else. You take a few minutes to catch your breath, and when a soft knock on the door vibrates your back, you ignore it. The person doesn't knock again.

Your dress clings to your sweaty body, and you want nothing more than to take it off. You slip off the midnight blue silk gown and drape it over the chair in front of the vanity. Noticing the pink garment bags already hung neatly in your closet, you secretly wish that you fit in this world, this world of money. But you know deep down that you don't.

You walk past all of the new clothes and throw back on your usual attire of shorts and a T-shirt; you can't get comfortable in the fancy clothes. You make your way over to your bed and throw yourself on the comforter. Burying your face in the pillow and let the tears come. You cry until your eyes burn. You sit up in bed and wonder where everything went wrong with Todd and you. You had truly been in love with him. You had planned a future together, and even though he never spoke directly of marrying you, you always assumed it would happen one day. So when the waiter placed his engagement ring in front of you perched on a pillow of whipped cream, it hurt even more.

Your roommate had been suspicious of Todd cheating on you for months before you read that text. You went on pretending your relationship was stable, even though deep down, you suspected him, too, especially after the incident at the sushi restaurant.

You didn't confront him about the text until weeks later. He denied everything at first, saying it was his father's receptionist. She was a bitter older woman who was not the kind of woman you wanted to cross. He put the receptionist in his phone as 'her' as a joke.

You knew he was lying, but you were okay to keep on pretending. That was until you caught him texting 'her' again, right in front of you. Then, you exploded, and you got into your worst fight. He finally came clean that it was a woman he met at your birthday party.

He swore he wasn't cheating and that she was just a friend. You promised that you would work it out even if he was cheating on you, but he wasn't interested in that. He was no longer interested in you. He broke up with you the very next day.

With the memories replaying in your mind, you jump out of bed and run to the balcony. You breathe in quick gasps of the cold sea air. You just realized that you had invited Sarah to your birthday party. Todd had met her there, and they had been in contact ever since. Sarah told you that she'd been dating Todd for four months, but your birthday party was eight months ago. So Todd had been pursuing Sarah for eight months while he was still pretending to be faithful to you.

'It wouldn't hurt to have a rich wife; then we'd become millionaires together.' Todd's words ring through your memories. He hadn't been talking about you becoming a lawyer and the two of you becoming wealthy together. He had been talking about marrying Sarah, an heiress. This had been his plan all along.

This night of realization has your head hammering, and you need to calm down. So you walk back into your room, slip on your shoes, and walk out your door. You’re going to go out to the bar on the deck and make yourself a drink. The lights on the deck are already out, but you quickly realize you’re not there alone.

"Oh, Todd!" Sarah moans.

"You are so damn sexy!"

Two shadowy figures are pressed together in the pool, waves rippling around them, and you quickly realize you have just interrupted Sarah and Todd's after-engagement celebration. You immediately freeze on the spot.

Their moans grow louder, and you try to retreat before either of them sees you. Unfortunately, you don't notice the lounge chair behind you in the dark and topple over it in your rush to get away. You land flat on your back, and all the air is knocked out of your lungs.

"What the hell? Who's there?" Todd's voice yells behind you.

You pray it’s too dark for them to see or recognize you. Then, you start crawling back towards the door, and as soon as you think you are out of sight, you stand up quickly and run. Once you get through the door, you keep running down the hall, the tears stinging your eyes. You are humiliated, heartbroken, and defeated.

You get to a set of stairs and immediately start climbing as many floors as you can. You have to get as far away from the pool as possible. It’s bad enough knowing Todd is sleeping with Sarah, possibly for eight months, but to see it first hand is too much.

You end up in front of an elevator, and just as you stop to catch your breath, the doors slide open.

"Hey darlin? Are you okay?"

It's Joel. All you want to do is to run into his arms and feel his warmth surround you. But instead, you simply nod and turn to walk away. How could you possibly explain what you just witnessed? Sarah is still his daughter.

"I don't believe you. Somethin’ is wrong. I came to check on you earlier.”

—

Joel hands you a glass of red wine, and you follow him out onto his private deck. The elevator has led up to his room, and Joel, noticing your state, invites you up.

You lean over the railing and swirl the wine in the glass.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Joel asks with a note of concern in his voice.

"Nothing happened; I was just tired," you reply.

"You were so tired that you ran all the way back to the yacht?" Joel asks, clearly not believing you.

You don't say anything and take a small sip of your wine.

"And in the hallway just now? You seemed pretty upset," Joel says.

"I promise, I'm fine, but thank you," you say, trying to muster up a small smile.

Joel does not look convinced, but he lets the topic go. You both stand looking over the ocean for a long time in complete silence. The yacht has left the small island, and so the waves are bubbling lazily behind the propellers.

"When do we make port again?" you ask, finally breaking the silence.

"Tomorrow," Joel replies.

"I’m gonna miss you, Joel," you say quietly.

"What are you talking about, darlin?" Joel says as his eyebrows knit together in concern.

"I'm going to catch a flight back to New York tomorrow.”

Joel stares at you for a long time after saying that you’ll be leaving when you get to port the next day. Or at least you hope you will be. You don't even know where you will be, let alone if there is an airport or a ticket home you can afford.

"I would really hate to see you go, darlin," Joel says with a serious look on his face.

"I think it's for the best," you answer softly.

"The best for you?" he asks. You stay quiet for a long time. Are you deciding what is best for you and/or running from your problems?

"I don't know… " you answer truthfully.

You take another small sip of the wine Joel had poured you and watch the liquid as you swirl it around in your glass.

"You know wine always tastes better in the sauna," Joel says, watching you.

You turn to him, "That does sound nice, but I’m sure the staff who work the spa have already gone to bed."

"Well, good thing the sauna is in my bathroom," he says as the corners of his mouth ease into a smile.

"You have a sauna in your bathroom?" you ask, impressed.

"Of course, so what do you say?"

"I'm not really dressed for a sauna," you gesture down to your shorts and T-shirt.

"I have a robe that you can borrow unless you'd rather go without." Joel winks and starts walking away to grab the robe.

"So what else do you have up here all to yourself?" you ask, liking the distraction from the mess of a night you've been through.

—

You walk through a large sitting room, a bedroom with the biggest bed you've ever seen, and then finally to the bathroom. Joel calling the tub in his bathroom a soaking tub is an understatement; it's more like a small swimming pool sunken in the middle of the floor.

"You can get changed here." Joel leads you into an extravagant walk-in closet, complete with a large vanity table and chaise lounge. He hangs a white cotton robe on a hook next to the door, making it the only garment in the empty closet. You realize Joel's room must include his and her's closets, but Joel has no use for this one.

You undress down to nothing and slip the buttery soft robe over your skin. You could live in this robe. There are definitely some amazing perks to being rich. You walk out of the closet, and Joel is waiting for you in a matching cotton robe.

"See, it's a perfect fit," he says.

"I don't even want to know how much one of these robes costs," you say.

Joel laughs a little at your comment. "The sauna is through this door here," Joel says and pushes the door next to him open, holding it for you to enter first.

You don't know what you've been expecting when Joel had said he had a sauna in his bathroom, but the sauna you walk into is more than you could have ever imagined.

Every inch of the room is covered in light wood. The benches look as though they conform perfectly to your body and are accented with white pillows. The steam is warm and envelops you as soon as you walk into the room. However, the most breathtaking part of the sauna is the floor-to-ceiling window. It makes it feel like the sauna is open to the ocean itself, and the dark water reflecting the dim light of the room is extremely romantic.

"How do you ever leave?" you ask after a few speechless seconds.

Joel laughs again and takes a seat in the center of the bench, staring out into the dark water. You sit next to him and realize you might be too close, so you try to scoot away subtly.

"I don't bite, darlin."

You laugh awkwardly but remain close enough to feel the heat of his body next to yours. You close your eyes and try to let go of the evening. You think about watching the dolphins swimming in the cove while Joel sits next to you on the jet ski.

"You look like you're feeling a little better," Joel whispers.

"I am. This is exactly what I needed." You pause for a few seconds and add, "You keep saving me today."

"You've saved me on this trip too. Can I tell you a secret?" he asks, leaning in closer to you.

"Of course," you answer, and your heart starts beating faster.

"The rest of Sarah's friends drive me insane."

"That's your secret?" you bump his shoulder with yours. "That’s a really weak secret. They drive me insane too."

"If that’s not a secret, then tell me a better one," he says.

"What kind of secret?"

"Tell me why you’re leaving tomorrow?" he asks and looks into your eyes.

You pause, considering if you should tell him the truth, but he is getting Todd as a son-in-law. So you choose a different path.

"I can't afford to stay," you say finally. Taking Joel's silence as confusion, you elaborate, "I'm completely broke. I've put all of my money into school. I work as a bartender and live off of my tips and ramen noodles."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand why that means you need to leave tomorrow," Joel says somberly.

That’s a fair point; Sarah and her father have paid for absolutely everything. It isn't costing you anything to stay on this once-in-a-lifetime vacation. You need to come up with a reason to leave before he sees through the holes in your story.

"I have to get back to New York, get ready to move to Cambridge, and find a job there before the semester starts. I only have a few weeks of living costs saved up." This is partly true; you do need to do all of those things, but going back early would actually complicate things for you. You can't move into your new apartment in Cambridge until two weeks before the semester starts. So going back early would just mean you'd sit in your old apartment with nothing to do. Plus, if you went back early, you would have a few more weeks of expenses to take care of, and you already quit your job.

"What if I could help you find a new position in Cambridge?" Joel asks.

"What do you mean?" you ask, surprised.

"I have some connections in Cambridge; if I helped you get a few interviews, would you be able to stay longer?"

You can't find any words to respond. You've been really worried about what you would do for work when you got to Cambridge. You don't know anyone there and planned on spending the two weeks before the semester handing in resumes at different restaurants.

"You would do that for me?" you ask.

"Absolutely. I’ll make some calls in the morning. You don't have to stay, but I would enjoy your company if you did. The Bahamas are beautiful this time of year. I don't want you to miss it."

"Okay, I'll stay," you say quietly. "Thank you, Joel."

You can't believe this man's kindness to you. If it's important to Joel that you stay on the trip, then you will figure out how to deal with Todd and Sarah for a little while longer.

"I'm glad to hear it," he says with a smile.

The sky starts to lighten in the early morning hours, so you stand and tell him, "I should head back down to my own room and get some rest."

"Probably a good idea," he says and follows you out of the sauna.

You go back into the massive closet and change back into your clothes, hanging the robe back on the hook. You walk back out into the main room, and Joel is waiting for you, still in his robe.

"Let me walk you down."

"That's really okay. You’ve done so much for me already," you say.

"How long will you stay?"

"I'm not sure. At least another week." You smile at Joel and walk out the door.

***

Joel shuts the door behind you as you walk down the hall. He's relieved that he convinced you to stay for at least another week, but he knows there's something else that's the real cause for you being so upset tonight.

He knows that you're not part of Sarah's usual friend group, but after talking to you tonight, he's confused about how you're even friends at all. You clearly have big goals and work hard to see them happen. Sarah doesn't have any goals other than becoming an 'influencer.'

The thought of you working at every spare moment to put yourself through school makes his stomach twist at how badly he's spoiled Sarah. You deserve so much better than to be just scraping by. He would do anything he could to help you find something better. Hell, he would have offered to pay for your tuition, too, if he thought you would accept it.

Joel pulls out his phone and sends an email to the connection he has at a law firm in Cambridge. He's done some business with them in the past and figures it would be a much better fit for you than making people drinks. With how much business he's given the firm, he knows he can at least get you an interview.

On his home screen, there's a notification of a phone call from his financial advisor, Alester, that he missed while he was in the sauna with you. Alester never calls at this hour, so he knows something is wrong. Joel calls him back immediately, waiting impatiently to hear his voice on the other end.

“Joel, I am so sorry for the early hour," Alester says.

“No need to apologize; what's going on?" He asks urgently.

“I am afraid it is not good news.”

“Just tell me, Alester," he says, doing his best not to get impatient with the man. He's worked for Joel for years, and Joel trusts him with his life. There's an infuriatingly long pause on Alester's end. He sighs before he finally responds. “Blaine is back, sir."

***

The sun is streaming through the glass doors of the balcony as you finally open your eyes. Your head is pounding from a lack of sleep and caffeine. You want to order coffee up to your room, but you need to shower too badly to wait. After running all the way to the yacht and then sitting in the sauna with Joel, you are salty with dried sweat. You probably should have showered last night, but, after reaching your room in the early morning hours, you collapsed on the bed and had fallen asleep in your clothes.

You walk into the bathroom, expecting to look like a mess from all the events of the night, your clothes are extremely wrinkled, but you are surprised to see your hair still looks flawless. "I wish I could afford to get a blowout more often," you say to your reflection, pulling on a few strands as you admire the style.

You put your hair up and step into the hot water of the shower, washing off the previous day. You stand under the steaming water until you are getting a little dizzy from the heat. As you stand there, you can't help but think about Joel. He's been so kind to you, and you can't help but wonder if there's a chance he wants more from your relationship than what one would typically expect between a man and a friend of his daughter's. You shake your head. You can't allow yourself to think that way. Joel lives in a world you know nothing about. Not only is he much older than you, he is also Sarah's dad. Besides, he can have any woman he wants. Why would he want you?

Returning your thoughts to reality, you finish rinsing your hair and turn off the water. You wrap a towel around yourself, and make your way back into the bedroom to cool down.

The screen of your phone is illuminated, so you pick it up and lounge back on the bed. You have several notifications from the group chat between you and your roommates, Aubrey and Lin. You know you need to let them know what's going on.

Aubrey: Hey? Are you still alive? We haven't heard from you in days.

Lin: Maybe she finally found herself a rebound, and that’s why she’s too busy for us. My guess is a sexy pool boy!

You: Sorry, you two. Signal has been spotty. A sexy pool boy, Lin? Is that your guess or your fantasy?

Lin: I think a sexy pool boy should be everyone’s fantasy. ‘Pool boy, refresh my drink, and while you are at it, come rub me down with some tanning lotion.’

Aubrey: Lin, you’re the reason I can’t let Gianni read our group messages!

Lin: Sorry, we aren’t as lucky as you to have an amazing boyfriend who kisses the ground we walk on. Some of us have to use our imaginations.

You: I miss you two so much! I wish you were here with me.

Aubrey: How is everything going? Is the boat as big as we are imagining?

You: Honestly, it is probably bigger than you’re imagining. It’s not so much a boat as it is a super yacht. The bathroom in my room is as big as our entire apartment, and I’m just in a guest room. I have my own private balcony! Oh, and yesterday, I got to see a pod of dolphins!

Lin: Dolphins? How cool! I wish I had a rich friend who took me on expensive vacations.

You: Yeah, it sounds good in theory, but in reality, that rich friend was the one sleeping with my boyfriend for months.

Aubrey: Sarah was the one Todd was cheating on you with?! Why didn’t you lead with that?

You: Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Todd is here on the yacht too. We had already left port when I found out, so I’ve been stuck here with him.

Lin: No way! What the hell did that scumbag have to say for himself when he saw you?

You: Well, he pretended not to know who I am, and I went along with it.

Aubrey: I’m so sorry!

Lin: Why didn’t you call him out?

You: I probably should have, but I didn’t want to make things awkward. Like I said before, I am literally stuck on a boat with these people. Plus, Sarah clearly doesn’t know. I didn’t want to hurt her.

Aubrey: That makes sense. Maybe she will dump him before things get too serious.

You: Oh, one more thing, they got engaged at dinner last night. I had a front row seat for the entire thing. And then their after party.

Aubrey: Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? I don’t know exactly how I would find you, but you know I would figure it out.

You: Thanks Aubrey, but I’m okay.

Lin: Shit, this is really messed up. What do you mean by ‘you had a front row seat to their after party?’

You: I walked out to the pool deck and caught them having sex in the pool. Then I tripped over a deck chair trying to get out of there.

Lin: Did they catch you?

You: I still don’t know. I really hope not. I don’t know how I would show my face in front of either of them again if they did.

Aubrey: How did Todd even meet Sarah? It’s not like your social circles mix very well.

You: I was thinking about that a lot last night. I am pretty sure that they met at my birthday party.

Lin: So you're telling me when we were all celebrating you, Todd was off hitting on someone else?

You: Pretty much. I’m realizing a lot about who Todd really is. I think his whole plan was to find someone rich. I was thinking about it last night. I remember that towards the end of our relationship, he made lots of comments about how poor I am.

Aubrey: You’re not poor! You’re a college student just trying to make it through school.

Lin: Isn’t Sarah the one who dropped out sophomore year to become an influencer?

You: Yes, that is Sarah. She does actually have a big social media following. And as you both know, she comes from a lot of money.

Lin: Well, that’s pretty easy when you can buy whatever you want and post pictures of yourself on your dad’s billion dollar yacht.

Aubrey: So how long until you get back?

You: I think I’m staying another week. We’re sailing to the Bahamas. I was told that we will make port tonight.

Lin: Well, that sounds amazing. Do you know what you’re going to be doing?

You: I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to ask Joel what has been planned.

Lin: Oh, who is Joel?

You: Joel is just a friend.

Aubrey: I’m glad to hear at least you’re making friends. Then you have a way to escape from Sarah and Todd.

Lin: Me too. Any pool boys?

You: Haha Lin! Very funny. No, I have not made friends with any of the pool boys.

Lin: Well, maybe you should. There is no better way to get over someone than getting under someone.

Aubrey: I hate to say it, but I agree with Lin. Go get some! There have to be some island hotties at one of your stops.

You: I can’t believe you two. I have to go. Someone is knocking at my door. I miss you two so much!

Chuckling at the antics of your two best friends, you set your phone down on the bedside table, smiling to yourself. It's good to know that you have at least two friends you can count on for anything.

You wrap your towel tight around you and check the peephole in the door, relieved to see a maid at your door and not someone else since you're not even dressed yet. You open the door and are surprised to see she's holding a tray and a box in her arms.

"Good morning, Miss," the maid says with a friendly smile on her face.

Confused, you return her smile but look suspiciously at the items she's holding. "Good morning. I think there may have been a mix-up. I didn't call down for anything."

"Don't worry. There was no mix-up," she assures you, taking a step through the open door. "Where would you like me to set this?" she asks.

You open the door wider and let her in to set the tray down on the table. She sets the box gently on the bed and turns to exit, still smiling at you.

"Do you know who sent this?" you ask, tracking the woman with your eyes as she steps away from the bed. However, she does not answer your question. Instead, she continues to proceed to the door with a small knowing smile on her face that makes you wonder what she knows that you don't.

"Have a good day, Miss," she says, giving a small head nod as she flashes you one last grin.

"Thank you," you say and close the door behind her.

You make your way over to the tray first. Lifting the cover, you find a stack of pancakes and a side of bacon and eggs. There's also a small pot of coffee and a fluffy pastry. Your mouth is already watering at the sight of the food, and you inhale deeply, closing your eyes and imagining how good it will all taste, but you replace the cover.

The anticipation for what the box could contain is too great.

The box is tied close with a red ribbon, so you untie it and set it to the side. You remove the lid to the box and are surprised to find a white cotton robe. Immediately, a smile crosses your face, and a small giggle of glee escapes your lips. There's a small handwritten note resting on top.

Darlin,

Please meet me on our secret deck later this evening. Enjoy some time to yourself.

P.S. I wanted you to be comfortable.

Sincerely,

Joel.

You set the card down on the nightstand, right next to the little pink seashell, and you slip on the robe. It's even softer than the night before, if that's possible, and it smells like sandalwood - It smells like Joel.

The clock reads 4:30 pm before you finally get out of bed and dress for the day. You pick out a form-fitting sundress with a delicate blue shell pattern along the hemline. It's one of the pieces that Joel purchased for you at Amorebelle. You aren't used to wearing dresses, but you want to look nice when you see him.

You carefully do your makeup at the vanity table in your bathroom. As you step back and look in the mirror, you are impressed with your own appearance; you look like you belong – almost.

You make your way to Joel's secret deck. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you get closer. You stop as you round the corner to the private location; all you can see is the back of Joel's head as he holds a phone to his ear. The muscles in his shoulders are tense, and you can tell by his low tone that the conversation is not a pleasant one.

"What do you mean he’s threatening to contact members of the family?" You hear Joel say. "He has demands now? What are his demands?"

There is a long pause after what Joel says, and you watch him running a hand through his hair; he seems to be on edge. He listens carefully to whoever he is talking to, and you consider turning around.

"We need to start protecting the family assets. I need you to review my father's will again and ensure it is airtight. He will not get a dime out of me."

You know you should turn around and give Joel privacy, but your curiosity gets the better of you when he starts talking about his family. You lean against the railing to wait, and it squeaks. It squeaks loudly.

Joel turns his head and gives you a small half-smile. He waves his hand, gesturing for you to come to join him. You hesitantly walk over, taking as much time as possible.

"I agree that's a good plan. Lock everything down, and let me know if we get any more calls from him. I'm counting on you, Alester. Don't let me down," Joel says. He hangs up the phone and sets it on the table next to the lounge chair he is sitting in. He sighs, turns to the laptop sitting next to him, and starts typing.

"Hey, I hope I am not interrupting anything," you say and slowly walk up to him.

"Darlin," Joel says as he closes the laptop and turns to face you. "You're not interrupting anything; I was just getting caught up on some work stuff."

"I just noticed you were on the phone, and I didn't want to interrupt a business call or something," you say, trying to explain why you were leaning against the railing and eavesdropping on his phone call.

"Oh, that wasn't business. I just needed to deal with some family issues," he says as he moves a white and blue striped towel and a bottle of tanning lotion off of the lounge chair next to him, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, and a natural smile finally mirrors in his eyes.

"I am because of you. Thank you so much for sending me breakfast, and that robe was amazing. I honestly can't remember the last time I let myself lay around in bed all day. I really enjoyed it," you say and sit as gracefully as you can manage in the lounge chair next to Joel.

"Good to hear. You deserved a day to relax like that. You don't need to thank me for the robe; after seeing you in it last night, I knew it belonged to you. It looked like it was made for you, so it was only right that I send it down to you," he says.

His words make your heart beat fast again, and your face flushes. You know you are getting too close to your friend's very handsome and single father than is wise. But, when he says things like that, it is hard not to.

You think about telling him the truth about why you were so upset, but you don't want to ruin the fun you're having together by unloading about your ex-boyfriend, who is about to be his son-in-law.

"So, are you excited to walk your daughter down the aisle?" you ask, quickly trying to change the subject, so you don't blurt out your history with Todd.

"Honestly, I'm not sure if I will walk Sarah down the aisle or if she will want her mom to," Joel answers.

His response surprises you, and it must show on your face because Joel continues with his explanation.

"I was only with Marnie, Sarah's mother, for a short time. Marnie got married to someone else shortly after and had Sarah. She believed that Sarah was biologically her husband's and not mine. I didn't even know Sarah existed. She had Sarah take a DNA test when she was ten; she was linked to some of the Miller family members who had also taken the test. Only then did we find out that Sarah was mine."

"I had no idea, Joel. Sarah never said anything about any of this," you say. You feel so sorry for all of them.

"When Marnie's husband died, she told Sarah and me the truth. However, Sarah had grown up with another man as her father, and I never wanted to try and fill his place in her life. So I never really took on that fatherly role with her. Instead, I bought her everything she ever asked me for, and that was the basis of our relationship for a long time."

You sit there staring at the pain in Joel's face for a while. He never takes his eyes off of the ocean but continues to tell you about his past.

"Over the years, we've tried to build our relationship, and I take her on vacation with me every summer, but we still don't have the typical relationship you would expect. At times, Marnie and I have a hard time getting along; we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. So I stayed back and let Marnie raise Sarah; in a lot of ways, I don't agree with how she raised her," Joel says with a sigh. "That's why you're all here. Sarah and I don't know how to talk to each other because we have nothing in common and barely any memories together. So dinner gets a little awkward without others to fill the silence," Joel says, seeming slightly embarrassed about admitting this.

"I had no idea. Sarah always made it sound like her life was so perfect."

"In all the ways Sarah measures her life, it has been," Joel says, but you aren't quite sure what he means by it.

A maid with a tray of tropical cocktails interrupts your conversation, and she sets the drinks on the table between Joel and you.

"Thank you, Molly, these look wonderful," Joel says.

"Of course, sir," Molly says with a small smile.

"How's your sister doing? I hope she's making a speedy recovery."

"She is, sir. She should be back on her feet again in no time."

"When we get back, you should make some time to go and see her. I'll tell Reggie to add some more PTO for you," Joel says.

"Thank you, sir, I really appreciate that," she says and turnsto leave.

As you observe the interaction between Joel and one of his staff members, you realize you've never seen him treat an employee poorly. However, Sarah snaps at them to get their attention, and you suspect she doesn't even know their names or anything about them. She doesn't even treat them like they're people. This explains why you never felt like you fit in with Sarah and her friends, but you feel comfortable and want to spend all your time with Joel. He doesn't look down on you for being poor, but Sarah does. The irony of it all is that the only one on the ship who knows exactly how poor you are, is Joel.

You stare at Joel, and when he finally meets your gaze, you can't help but smile at him. "Thank you for telling me all of this," you say.

"Thank you for listening," he responds simply.

"It seems like we're making a habit of telling each other all of our secrets," you say with a small giggle.

"I hope that continues."

"Me too," you answer.

"Sarah has another dinner planned on the upper deck. Can I walk you up?" Joel asks you.

"I'm actually feeling a little seasick, I don't think it would be wise for me to eat right now," you answer. You don't feel like spending another evening with Sarah and her new fiance.

"Do you need a doctor? We have a nurse on the yacht, but we'll be making port in just a few hours; I can call and have one meet us at the dock."

"No, I'm okay, really. I just need to go back and lie down."

"Okay, if you're sure. I'll walk you down to your room," Joel said, checking his watch.

"No, no. I'm fine, really."

"Okay," he says reluctantly, "but please use the intercom in your room if you need anything."

"I will, I promise," you say with a small wave and leave to slowly make your way back to your room.

You take your time moving through the ship. You don't want to run into anyone heading to Sarah's dinner, where the topic of conversation is sure to be all about her recent engagement.

You're relieved when you see that most of the hallways are completely empty, so you quickly start toward your room.

"Hey!"

You turn and see Reggie walking up behind you.

"Hey, Reggie. It's been a while," you say with a smile.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"I'm going back to my room. I wasn't really in the mood to spend dinner with everyone."

"Well, I was on my way to play some cards with some of the crew members. Why don't you come?"

Reggie must have seen the hesitation on your face. "Come on. It's actually fun to hang out with normal people every once in a while."

You laugh. You didn't realise that Reggie thought you were just as wealthy as the rest of Sarah's friends. "Reggie, I am a normal person. Let's go.”

—

Joel makes his way up to dinner alone, silently wishing you would be joining. You're one of the only ones in the group that he actually cares to have a conversation with. However, it might be for the best that you're not coming. Joel found himself always drawn to you, and if he wasn't careful, Sarah would catch on to his interest in her friend. He knows that would not go over well.

Joel's the last one to arrive, and he takes the only seat available next to Sarah's new fiance, Todd.

"I never got the chance to congratulate you on the engagement last night," Joel says as he shakes Todd's hand. "I rushed out because I had an urgent business matter I had to attend to."

Joel hoped that would adequately explain his quick departure the night before. He feels a little guilty that he didnt stay to celebrate and instead took off after you to make sure she was okay.

If he's being honest with himself, his evening spent with you, talking in the sauna, was much more enjoyable. He probably won't be winning any best dad of the year awards, though. He already smoothed things over with Sarah this morning. He showed up to her room with a pair of diamond earrings from Tiffany's. He'd bought them for her birthday, but they were perfect as a stand-in engagement present. Once he brought out the diamond, he didn't think she heard another word that he said. He’s happy to see that she’s wearing them tonight. She truly did look happy, and Joel prayed she would be in her marriage.

"Thank you so much, sir. I hope you approve of our engagement," Todd says.

Joel almost forgot that it was customary for a man to ask for his daughter's hand to get the father's approval of the marriage. "I think you two make a great couple. I'm looking forward to having you as part of the family, Todd," Joel says and then stands up. He taps his wine glass to get the group's attention. Everyone at the table quiets quickly and turns to him.

"I want to congratulate Sarah and Todd on their engagement. May they find happiness in each other and enjoy each other's company for many years to come." Sarah's friends all clap at this statement. Once the quiet returns he starts again. “As my engagement gift to the couple, I would like to throw you two an engagement party at my home here in the Bahamas."

This announcement receives a very excited response from all of Sarah's friends. Sarah's face is beaming at all of the attention she is getting. She smiles and stands up to make an announcement of her own. Joel notices she shakes her head gracefully from side to side, causing the earrings to catch the light. She is an expert at showing off wealth; no wonder she’s doing so well as an influencer.

“Thank you so much, Daddy! I'm so glad you approve, and an engagement party will be the perfect way to announce to the world that I'm about to be married. I am so excited about the upcoming wedding, and I would be honoured if all of you were part of our wedding party." Sarah is met with murmurs of agreement from the men and squeals of excitement from the women present. She sits down with a huge smile, clearly pleased with the group's reactions. “Daddy, can you hire some professional photographers for the engagement party? I need some really good pictures to post."

“Of course," Joel says.

“I wish we could have gotten some great shots of the actual engagement, but Todd didn't think about that part of it," Sarah says, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I told you it wasn't exactly planned. We had such an amazing day, and it just felt like the right time," Todd says defensively.

“I'm marrying a true romantic," Sarah says, resting her chin on Todd's shoulder.

“Is there anything else you two need?" Joel asks, trying his best to be supportive.

“I’ll need to pick one more bridesmaid so we have even numbers," Sarah says to Joel.

“Why not ask your old roomate?" Joel asks, confused as to why Sarah isn't planning on asking her most likable and attractive friend.

“Oh, I didn't notice that she wasn't here for my announcement. That sort of works out for the best, though. I’m going to ask someone different. She doesn't really fit into the vision I have for the wedding," Sarah says, sounding very much like a snob.

“And what exactly is your vision for the wedding?" Joel asks, annoyed with his daughter's uncouth response.

“I want everything to be glamorous," Sarah says as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I'll still invite her, but as part of the wedding party, you have to fit the aesthetic."

“That's true; it's not like she would be comfortable with the level of finery at the wedding anyway. It’s very obvious that she’s lower class. I think our guests would be able to sense that. If she can't afford to buy a new dress for her birthday party, it's not likely that she will be able to afford a bridesmaid's dress anyway," Todd says with a smug smile on his face.

Sarah giggles and then turns to talk to the woman next to her about possible venues for the wedding.

“Didn't you just meet her this week?" Joel asks Joel in a low voice.

“Yeah, Sarah told me they went to college together or something," Todd says and takes a bite off his plate.

“Then how would you know she couldn't afford a new dress for her birthday party?" Joel says with quiet suspicion.

Todd's eyes go wide in shock, and he nearly chokes on the food in his mouth. He takes a few moments to recover and then says, “I think Sarah told me that. She went to her birthday, and she had to borrow a dress because she couldn't afford a new one."

Although Joel doesn't doubt that Sarah would gossip about something as petty as not being able to afford a new dress, he finds it odd that Todd would remember something like that. Todd's reaction tells Joel that he is hiding something, and Joel's suspicion is only increased by his quick shift to join Sarah's conversation.

Do you and Todd know each other outside of Sarah?

Joel eats the rest of his meal in silence and makes an excuse about having work to do to get out of the rest of the evening's activities. Instead of heading back to his room, he goes to the captain to tell him about the change of plans.

After Joel's conversation with the captain, he makes his way to his office, which is located a floor below the guest rooms. He thinks about going and checking on you but decides it is best to let you get some sleep.

Joel's office on the yacht is a carbon copy of his office at home. It has a large wooden desk in the center and a large dark leather armchair. The only difference is the view is spectacularly better on the yacht. A large windowed balcony sits behind the desk, so Joel can watch the ocean as he works.

Joel sinks into his leather chair and opens the laptop on his desk. A notification glows on the screen, informing him of the one hundred and twenty-seven emails waiting in his inbox. He pulls out his phone instead and finds his event planner's phone number in his contacts.

“Hello, this is Jessica of Jessica's events."

“Jessica, this is Joel Miller."

“Mr. Miller, it’s great to hear from you again. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

“I'm calling to see if you can organize a party for me. My daughter just got engaged, and I want to throw her an engagement party at my home in the Bahamas."

“Congratulations, Mr. Miller. I would love to help plan such a happy occasion. When can I pencil in your event?"

“Two days from now," he says, knowing the absurdity of the request.

“Did I hear you right? You want me to plan an entire event in two days?"

“If anyone can do it, it's you, Jessica. I’m willing to pay double."

“You have always known how to close a deal. I will have everything ready for you, Mr. Miller. Does your daughter have a theme in mind?”

Joel hates that he has to say it out loud, “She said the theme of her wedding is…glamor."

He hears a small giggle escape from Jessica on the other end of the phone, and she quickly tries to cover it with a cough.

“I know how it sounds," Joel says, embarrassed. “That’s why I am trusting you with this event. I know you will make it tasteful. After the engagement party, I’ll have Sarah talk with you about wedding plans."

“That sounds great, Mr. Miller. I will see you in two days."

“Thank you very much. Goodbye," Joel says and hangs up the phone. This wedding is going to be expensive, and Joel already expects to foot the bill for everything. Extravagant is one thing, but Sarah's taste is beyond even that.

Joel turns his attention back to his laptop screen and the blinking email notification, but he can't get you out of his head. Instead of working, he pulls up his social media pages and searches for your name. He quickly finds your social media pages. You're not very active; most of your pictures are candid shots of you and your friends, two women that looke kind and a lot more down-to-earth than his own daughter.

Joels slightly disappointed that you don't have more pictures for him to scroll through and very little about your life. He wants to know more about you, but it seems like you're very private with your online presence.

He sighs and closes the social media pages, finally returning to the emails he’s dreading sorting through. The newest email in his inbox makes his heart sink. It's from an unknown sender and contains a single sentence.

I know who I really am, and the whole world will, too, if you don't meet my demands.

—

"I am a normal person," you say again, smiling as you walk with Reggie. He raises an eyebrow skeptically at you.

"You don't believe me?" you ask.

"Right, because us normal people get invited to one of the largest private yachts in the world as guests all the time. You don't have to pretend you're not rich to fit in with the crew. They will like you because you are actually nice," Reggie says.

"I am the furthest thing from rich," you laugh.

"Oh, yeah? Prove it," Reggie says with a teasing smile on his face.

You quickly pull out your phone and find a picture of you and your two roommates in your apartment and show it to Reggie.

"What does this prove?" he asks.

"This is a picture of me and my two roommates, Lin and Aubrey; we are sitting in the living room of our one-bedroom apartment. I’m a bartender at a little dive bar, and I currently have two hundred and thirty dollars in my bank account," you say matter of factly.

Reggie's expression changes from one of teasing to one of shock.

"Are you serious?" he asks.

"I mean, I can pull up a bank statement if you really want," you say with a smile.

"Then how did you end up as one of Sarah's friends?"

"Sarah and I were roommates during our first few years at NYU. I think Sarah was placed in the regular dorm rooms to teach her what it was like to be a regular person or something," you say, only half joking. You still haven't figured that one out. Maybe her dad was trying to teach her a life lesson. "Anyway, she hated it and dropped out her sophomore year, but we remained friends and have been in and out of touch over the years. She randomly invited me on this vacation, and I accepted. I didn't expect the yacht to be quite this big, though."

Once you are done with your explanation, you are on the lowest floor of the yacht. You're surprised at how nice the staff area is. Perhaps you'd been expecting it to be like a scene from the lower decks of the movie 'Titanic,' but the lowest level of the ship looks like walking into a lobby of a four-star hotel.

You make your way into what must be the staff dining room. There’s a large group of people surrounding a circular table in the middle of a game of cards. Music is playing in the background, and snacks and beer litter the table. It looks like this is going to be the most comfortable you've been on your trip so far.

"Everyone be nice; we have a newcomer," Reggie says as he pulls out a chair for you.

The mood changes slightly as you sit down, and Reggie sits next to you. You realize you’re still wearing the sundress that Joel bought you, and you must look like you are made of money.

"Hey, I'm Max," says a man with black hair and olive skin.

"Hey, Max," you stick your hand out to shake his and you introduce yourself.

"Nice to meet you. Tell us about yourself."

"There isn't much to tell. I'm a bartender at a little hole-in-the-wall in New York, and I'm trying to put myself through law school," you say nonchalantly.

"What bar?" a girl across the table asks.

"It's called McGregor's."

"No way! I've been there before," Max says. “You have the best nachos!"

You laugh. “Yeah, we do. I would eat an entire plate by myself if no one were watching."

You feel the entire table relax as they all realize that you aren't like the rest of the guests on the yacht.

"What are we playing?" you ask, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"Strip Poker."

Your throat goes dry at the thought of undressing in front of a room full of strangers. You're afraid to swallow the piece of popcorn you just placed in your mouth. You look around, and everyone is still fully clothed, and your heart rate starts to slow. Max smiles, clearly finding enjoyment in your shock.

"Max, don't scare her off already," Reggie chuckles. “Do you want a beer?”

—

“You wouldn't believe what one of the 'Richies' asked me today,” Brenna says

"Oh, this is going to be good. Brenna always has the best stories," Reggie leans over and whispers to you. After a few beers and a hand or two of actual poker, everyone seems completely at ease with you.

"I was cleaning up a wine glass he'd dropped, and he started hitting on me. Obviously, he has no idea what the real world is like, so he starts asking questions as a way to talk to me."

"Oh no," Max says with a laugh.

"He asked me about living on the bottom deck of the yacht, and I tell him how it takes some getting used to because we are below the water down here. Then he asks me how we use our balconies if they're underwater."

You snort into your glass, glad you hadn't been taking a sip of the beer at the moment, or it would be flowing out of your nose. You set your beer down and ask, "Oh, please tell me you had a good comeback."

She smiles brightly, "I told him we could only use them at low tide. Then he nods and says, 'That makes sense.' I swear they are all clueless."

Brenna starts laughing, and the whole table joins in, but by the time you catch your breath, you have tears in the corners of your eyes. You have not laughed like this the entire time you've been on the ship.

"No offense; I know Sarah is your friend and all, but how do you stand spending time with them?" Max asks.

"Oh, trust me, it’s a challenge. I sneak off by myself whenever I get the chance. No one seems to really notice, especially after Sarah's engagement."

"Oh, man, her fiance is a real tool, isn't he?" Brenna adds.

"He's a social climber too, so they are actually a great fit," Charlotte says. Charlotte is one of the older staff members and hasn't said much throughout the night.

"Well, that makes sense about the fiance, but do you mean Sarah is one too?" Max asks.

They seem to have forgotten that you are there, or at least they forget that you know Sarah personally. However, you keep your mouth shut not because you want to know more, but because you are trying to act as if you don't care too much.

"I started working for Mr. Miller when Sarah and the horrible woman she has as a mother first came around. That same day, the staff was all told that Sarah was Mr. Miller's daughter and to make sure she had everything she needed. Marnie, Sarah's mother, spent the whole day ordering the staff around like she was the owner of the house," said Charlotte.

"From my experience with Marnie, that sounds about right," Max offers.

"Sarah was raised by another man by the name of Winston Radcliff. Some of the staff had been around when Mr. Miller first brought Marnie around. The rumor was that Marnie threw Mr. Miller aside for Radcliff right after she found out she was pregnant because Radcliff could offer her a better position in society."

You can't imagine someone who had the chance to be with Joel choosing another person over him. You can't help but ask, "What did Winston offer that Joel couldn't?"

"Radcliff was the next in line for an earldom. It turned out that the earldom came with a shabby little estate that cost Winston his fortune to keep standing. The marriage quickly turned sour, and when the earl died, Marnie was just as quick to get a paternity test for Sarah."

"In my opinion, Mr. Miller was better off not knowing the truth. Marnie always shows up asking for more money. Sarah has always wanted something, even though Mr. Miller buys her more than she could ever need." Charlotte says.

"Was Joel in love with Marnie?" you ask, not knowing if you really want the answer.

"No, I don't think he ever really loved her. Maybe he could have found a woman right for him if Marnie hadn't been around for the last fourteen years, scaring away every decent woman he has dated. She thinks that if she can keep him single long enough, he will fall back in love with her, but Mr. Miller will never forgive her for what she did."

You nod and turn to see Reggie staring at you with a strange, almost hurt look on his face. He turns away from you before you can ask him what's wrong.

"Well, I think I'm going to head to bed," Brenna says, and the others all stand up to follow.

"You should come play cards with us again," Max says.

"Absolutely! We are here every night, and you are welcome to join us," Brenna adds.

"Thank you. I will." You're happy to know they've welcomed you as one of them.

You say a quick goodnight to everyone and head back up the stairs to the upper decks. Reggie's room is on the lower deck, so you walk by yourself. It must be later than you thought because the lights in the pool area are already turned off.

You feel silly rushing across the dark deck, but it makes you sort of nervous being alone on such a big ship. You're careful to avoid the deck chairs this time, and you're relieved to make it to the doors leading into the guestroom corridor.

"Where the hell have you been?"

You stop dead in your tracks and don't want to turn around. You know that tone of voice from countless arguments. It's Todd, the last person on the entire ship that you want to be alone with. You slowly turn, knowing you're going to have to face him eventually.

He stumbles a step towards you, and you back up to avoid a collision if he falls.

"Are you drunk?"

"I believe I asked a question first," Todd stutters.

"I was playing a game of cards with some of the crew."

Todd laughs and rolls his eyes at you. He again stumbles a little closer, and you're trapped between him and your door. He leans forward and places an arm on either side of you, blocking your escape. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he laughs. He's beyond drunk.

"Just like you. A yacht full of every thing you could want, and you spend your time with the help."

"Get off of me, Todd!"

"You know you still want me," Todd says, lowering his face closer to yours. You push against his chest, trying to get him off.

Todd is suddenly ripped backward, so forcefully you know it wasn't of his own doing.

You see Joel standing behind Todd with a fist full of his shirt. “Get your ass to bed before I throw you off my ship."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal

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myszie · 2 days

Text

I think your Tutor likes being called a Good Boy

Sub!Matt x reader

Trigger warning - Smut, Dom/Sub dynamics, Throat play, major Corruption kink, maybe Dub!con, degradation.

MDNI

First time writing smut, constructive criticism please!!!

Matt fidgets with his pencil, hands roughly bundled in his lap, You’re supposed to carry over the power” he mumbles, his words terse. I look up at the boy sitting across from me in the prickling sweltering heat of the school library, “Matttt I swear you’re writing in another language at this point” I murmur exasperated, lips drawn into an exaggerated pout.

Matt shifts in his seat - red flush coating his porcelain skin, as he reaches over to correct my mistake. “It’s not hard, you’re just not doing it properly” he adds attempting to joke and look away from my face, and the way my skin shimmers in the heat….so mundane yet so provocative. “You whore, why must you attack me like that” I laugh back tugging at my thin tee so it it doesn’t stick to my body. Not hearing a reaction, and worrying I pushed too far, I lean into Matt only to see him squirming in his lap as diverts his gaze from the dip of my collarbone.

“You don’t look so good Matty….its too hot in here…wanna study in my car?” I offer cooing at the boy as I help him gather his things, perfectly disguising the ways my hands linger as I help him put stuff in his bag.

The boy shuffles behind me, his hands firmly plastered to the front of his body…the heat, your lips and the ways your words were just on the precipice of his desire. Watching Matt struggle ever so much under my gaze, the battle behind clinging to his perfect image is downright tempting. Like a white canvas begging for colour, begging to be ruined.

“Does that feel better?” I murmur, softly rubbing his thighs, to comfort him of course and not anything else. The hitch in his breath is loud and clear within the silence of the car, but I’m more than happy to indulge in this game of cat and mouse a bit longer. “The heat was really getting you huh?” I coo again, this time pressing a cold beer near his jugular. “Mhm this should help the flush” I say smirking slightly as I hover over the boy, but seeing his blush darken and eyes look wide and dazed…my temptation peels and I can’t help but dip the bottle lower…near his chest.

Matt gasps biting his lips, “Yea that feels…better” he manages to force out even though the ice did nothing to calm the raging hard on he was packing. He was too far gone at this point, he needed you to keep touching him. “I think I know what will feel really good though Matty, what hill help ……this” I whisper in his ears as I drag the cold beer bottle close to his navel. Matts eyes widens and before he can process what you’re proposing, I pull my hands back and settle in my chair acting nonchalant. “Feel better Matty?” I lilt, stressing the syllable. Matt eyes turn to mine, completely wide and his chest heaves as his brain tries to cope with the fact that he hadn’t just imagined your hands near his cock.

I stare back at him, a challenge and invitation clear in my eyes, “No…need help” he finally murmurs out his words stressed and broken. “Mhm you were quite rude you know, you should ask me nicely” I rasp as I let my hands and nails ghost over the skin of his thigh. Matt hands ball in his laps as his body shakes under my touch, “please help me…please” he finally manages and I smile my touch getting bolder as it palms the bulge in his pants. “Help you do what bunny?” I say smirking, having fun while breaking down matts composure. “Touch me please” Matt moans his hips rising up as they grind up into my hands.

Smirking I’m immediately on him, straddling his heaving frame in the small car. My red manicured hands grasp both sides of his face, as I look into his eyes….”You thought you were being subtle huh, palming your dick in the library like a slut” I rasp roughly kissing his perfectly pouty laps. Matt all but whimpers as his hips ground up to mine, moving desperately for friction. I squeeze his mouth, “Open” and spit in his mouth as he spreads open his mouth, “god such a desperate slut, now swallow” I say licking a line of sweat down the side of his neck. I’m well aware of the fact by this point he’s practically humping me, but I let him…he was too pure yet to ruin completely and besides I didn’t wanna reveal all my cards.

“You desperate boy, I thought you needed me to touch you, but here you’re more than happy humping me like a Rabid bunny in heat….fuck perfect Matt is such a little slut…doing all this when anyone can see the fucked out look on your face” I tease my hands grasping his throat as I too grind down on him. Matt tries to answer, his words muffled in moans and I laugh, “You don’t gave permission to speak doll” I say biting his lips.

Matt is all but reduced to to heap of grunts and moans, his hips chasing the rhythm of mine. Feeling himself get closer, he can’t help but moan out, “Fuck feels so good” as he cums in his pants against the heat of my centre. I ride him through his orgasm drawing out the sensitivity, until I address him with a hard glare.

“I said you’re not allowed to speak doll”

Y’all want part 2? I’m not sure?

Tag list

@chr1sgirl4life @sturniolos-bae @sturnsfave @somegirlfromasgard @solarsturniolo @vecnasnose0 @ev3rgreenxtrees @sleepysturnss @namelesssaviour @lov3burns @tillies33ssss @sturnpooks @ladyvenera @malirosee @sluttformatt @yo123itsme @hypnotizedsturn @stellarsturns @lolasturniolo @namelesssav

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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aveloka-draws · 14 hours

Note

"I'd love to read more" well if you say so! So... Narinder. The iconic catboy. Following along with the theme of loving a god being the equivalent of entering a toxic relationship that is EXACTLY what Narinder has done. Praising and encouraging the lamb for their actions in killing the other bishops. Getting them to open up about all these personal details while simultaneously never revealing anything about himself (shit man SHAMURA is the one to tell the Lamb that his name even is Narinder!) The worst part is that it is at least partially genuine. There IS something there as with the other bishops and their relationships, but they are gods and such can only respond as gods always do. By drinking in all the devotion, and only giving something back when they want to. Things are healing now, but it'll never be the same as it was. Now Narinder finds himself stuck in a situation where he is noticing the slow and steady creep of "godhood" in the lamb, and is trying to keep Lamb grounded to their mortality. Now he's the one in the position of giving devotion, and its important that his quest succeeds, because he knows no matter the outcome he's not getting off the wild ride. Shamura, my fella, where do I begin with you. They have been a god for the longest. The oldest, and we don't even know how much even older they are than Kallamar. The only thing we know for certain about Shamura's age is that they have been alive since the glory age of gods. They have been divinity for unfathomably long, and were the closest to what it should mean. However, they have been upheld as god for so long I think its fundamentally warped every single relationship Shamura has. Does this make them evil? No, but it makes it hard to treat anyone outside of their family as an equal. Even after becoming mortal, just from what I've seen, they STILL are on a pedestal. The other bishops remember the big and wise older sibling. The LAMB, the only actual god left, is begging THEM for help. So Shamura will help alright, by telling the Lamb all about the warped ways they believe a god should perceive the world. I think Shamura needs, whether platonically or romantically (I don't know your headcanon for their orientation), for someone to get mad at them. Saying what is true but saying it in a cold/cruel way is very "i'm a god and can say what I want without consequence" behavior. Someone needs to shove this nerd into a chair and give a passionate "I don't know how to explain that you should care about other people" speech. Anyways that is all. I must let my brainworms rest for now.

Biting this biting this thank you for the food jshsjsh thank you brainworms

Narinder starting to feel the consecuences of his actions fr by being on the other side of things huhu hopefully he'll do ok

Also the pts about Shamura uogh that spider is so interesting to think about either as a god or mortal, spider with secrets and dementia

Been thinking about getting Shamura a friend for some future scenes maybe

Still in progress, being rotated in a microwave as we speak

#ask a bird

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yandere-romanticaa · 2 days

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I've had a very fun and fruitful conversation with @allfearstofallto and she had some very strong reactions for a story about yandere Diluc and Tartaglia that has been marinating in my mind for a while now. I'll just give you a brief version of my idea.

You and the 11th Fatui Harbinger are to be wed. With your freedom stripped away from you and with your wedding date fast approaching, you are working tirelessly to escape the Harbinger's grasp.

However, even with your freedom stripped away, even if you have no autonomy on your own, there's an inkling in your heart in which you cannot hate your captor. He is far too kind and gentle towards you, the way in which he treats you makes your heart swell with a plethora of emotions.

But enough is enough.

You need to leave. Fast.

One evening, you act sweeter, more submissive than usual. Your fiancee eats it up and is delighted by this change in attitude. His happiness is evident because now things can proceed without a hitch. Don't worry darling, you won't be anywhere near his work. He'll keep you safe, fed and loved.

All he asks in return is to be in your heart. Love him. Love him, please. It's a hard request, a selfish one even, he knows this.

He can make it up to you. He can and he will.

He promises.

You kiss him in bed, telling him that you understand. Your eyes shift towards the hidden suitcase in the corner as you feel the drugs start to kick in. Tartaglia is fast asleep, and you finally taste the sweetness of freedom.

The man wakes up the next morning in a daze. The bed is empty and cold.

His heart shatters into a million pieces. He roars out your name like a wounded animal, his throat sore and bleeding from the pain.

He must find you.

Meanwhile, you made your way towards the City of Freedom.

You settle in, find a job, a place to live in. It's hard but you manage.

You ignore the lingering presence that you feel behind you when you're alone at night. You're making it all up, you keep telling yourself.

No one is following you.

One evening, you enter a cozy tavern. You order a drink and it is prepared by a handsome, albeit stoic bartender. You manage to get him to open up. He introduces himself as Diluc, the owner of the fine establishment in which you sat in.

How neat.

Due to various different factors, after a short while Diluc takes you in. He is patient and strict. It's an improvement.

You don't know about his ever growing obsession with you. You don't know about the endless sea of portraits he has of you. He keeps it all hidden well under wraps.

Regardless, Diluc is still only human. It's only natural that his jealousy would bubble up and rear in its ugly head from time to time.

Dawn Winery is in a way, forced to attend a massive social gathering. Diplomats from the North are everywhere and, of course, Tartaglia spots you in the crowd.

Even if his eyes were to be plucked out, he would always manage to recognize you.

Tensions rise and the danger of bloodlust reeks in the air. Much to his chagrin, Childe cannot simply just kill Diluc and be done with it.

He is being forced to play Mr Nice Diplomat.

Oh the horror, being stuck between these two.

Now, since this has the potential to be long as fuck, I was thinking of making it into a multiple part story. The best name I could come up with it so far was "A Song of Ice and Fire". I'm open to title names, if someone has better ideas. An important note to add would be that this would be a serious commitment for me as I haven't done a story like this in years. Chapter updates would probably take me a long time due to my job and potential lack of energy, but this idea has been in my brain for years now, which is a clear sign that I'm passionate about it. And, my question is - would you like for me to make this story come to life?

#yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #yandere diluc #genshin impact #♥️ girlie says

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grimm-writings · 2 days

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Hey! Can I request a falin x reader where reader is a lone researcher in the dungeon and stumbles into chimera falin and the two fall in love?

Maybe Like a 5 times the reader has met chimera falin and 1 time the two get to meet after she’s turned back type story?

beauty/beast

…ft! falin x gn! reader

…tags! 5+1 format, reader is like slightly unhinged, fluff with moments of angst, slight suggestiveness

…wc! 2789

…notes! grimm tries not to come off as a monsterkisser for nearly 2.7k words, the fic,,,, hope you enjoy!!!! i love chimera falin so bad…

One

You can’t say you didn’t ask for this.

It’s a death sentence to traverse into a dungeon on your own, especially with your lack of combat skills. If you were sane, you’d have hired a bodyguard to help take down monsters you couldn’t handle. Fortunately, you are not, and decided instead you could very well handle monsters in a pacifistic way.

Any companion you told this to chose to stare at you like you admitted to dark magic.

So, you’ll simply prove the nay-sayers wrong! After all, how hard can it be to tame some monsters?

Very hard, actually. Like… incredibly.

You had to pride yourself in how you managed to sweet-talk some petty thieves for advice on monsters in the floor you’re currently on, even how to avoid orcs! At least that much is out of the way.

As for fighting, well, sometimes a very sharp slap to the head with a book, or even the sharp tip of a pen can subdue anyone, if just to give you enough time to run.

Besides, blood makes for some extra ink if you just happened to come by a dead body!

Going purely on efficiency alone, you’re doing tremendous work! When it comes to your study? Not so much.

The purpose of coming all the way down here is that you have a very specific urge. That being, to tame a beast. Some researchers gained the will to try and do the same to elemental spirits, why not other monsters?

One of the most common rebuttals you receive is that monsters are animals, they can’t be tamed at all, and you shouldn’t even try lest you want your head bitten off. Considering thus far you only got bitten by a walking mushroom, you think you’re doing rather well! (You did take an hour to contemplate to yourself how a walking mushroom seemingly has teeth, though.)

That brings you now later to the fourth floor, trying to shield your notes from the water as you lament losing more ink. Sure, you might write a little bit more than should be necessary, but you surely can’t be out already!

So, delight fills you as you peer past a doorway to see the top half of a woman face down on the floor. Haha, you can likely drain her pretty easily for some ink! Looks fresh enough, and some patches of her are already damp with red!

You skip over, humming as you do so, when all at once the woman jerks and looks up at you. Her golden eyes pierce your own, making you freeze in place. You wonder if something had gotten mixed up and a succubus ended up making its way to an upper floor, when the walls of the small tower the woman is inhabiting collapses.

A chimera screeches at you, as if telling you to leave it alone. If you weren’t so awestruck, you would have tried to shush it, lure it towards you and petted its oddly human head. Alas, you let the chicken-legged thing go, finding a safe haven for itself.

Day 1: I have found a beast in its purest form. I must pursue it. I must tame it.

Two

‘Obsession’ would be putting your experience lightly.

You had never wanted to gaze upon a monster as much as you wished to see the chimera again. Unique is its proportions, the lower body of a dragon and the torso and head of an adult tallwoman.

To anyone else, its face must be more of a lure. With the prettiest face and… great assets to boot, like a fish drawn to an angler fish's light, a blindsided adventurer comes near.

You had tried to navigate where the beast has gone, observing the damages of certain areas to lead you closer to it.

Thoughts course through your mind like speckles of a daydream as you walk and walk and walk, trying to sneak past other enemies and adventurers as you do so. What would its feathers feel like? Is it different from the mop of blonde hair on its head? You didn’t get the chance to observe its eyes – are they human or monster? What of its body heat? What is its diet?

Ah. Diet.

Your own body stops walking in realisation. By all means, comparing their mouth to the rest of their body, it’s ultimately impossible for the chimera to have a stable diet in this dungeon, correct?

Perhaps… you need to make a lure of your own.

Even after days of navigating the dungeon, you still have plenty of rations from the surface remaining in your bag. Hopefully the chimera likes the most noble meal one can fit inside a lunchbox — meats and pasta with the richest sauce. One could say your taste in meals is unique, eliciting a morbid curiosity. If the beast is more in tune with its human side, it will react the same.

You don’t know what tempted you to arrange a table with two chairs on either side. It’s not like the chimera could fit, but it was only suitable for your first formal meeting with it! Oh, how you can’t wait to observe it eating, and so close…!

If you’re lucky, it may even attempt to taste you.

You promptly shake off the thought.

What you focus on now is to draw the chimera near. It seems to favour secluded areas, but has been seemingly chased around. Aw, is it scared of humans? That’s just adorable! Or, maybe, it’s resting before setting off on a search… Now that’d be some juicy stuff! Who’s the chimera’s prey? Another monster, or humans?

Oh, of course you’ll use yourself as bait. You’re not a coward!

You know basic enough spells that you won’t be entirely drained of mana upon use, lighting up a route to catch the chimera’s attention upon spotting it. Down you lead it, making yourself look as bright and delectable as possible, before sitting in your seat, your meal readily prepared for the chimera.

You smile up at her as she pokes at the food you prepared, and she begins to eat.

Day 3: The beast was very hungry upon encounter. Even when she finished the meal, she insisted on having something more. I complied, and soon I had emptied my entire share of rations. The chimera eats food made for humans easily. This elicits curiosity – it might be proof enough that the chimera’s existence in this dungeon is unnatural. Even now, it looks too… human. I feel uncomfortable now referring to the beast as such – an ‘it’. Thus, I will refer to the chimera as ‘she’ from here on. It suits her. She truly is magnificent. All signs point to her being an attempt at creating a ‘beast-kin’, but instead of using the soul of a monster and body of a human, it’s as if it’s a mesh of both. A disgustingly beautiful transformation. To compare, it is not dissimilar to the breeding of a pug. Deliberately done to appease someone, something. A selfish birth. Someone must be wanting to do the same as I to the chimera – tame her to their whims. …I’ll have to look further into this.

Three

You feel less in control of your studies these days.

The more you hang around the dungeon, scavenging for food and following your muse, the more insane you feel. But, for the sake of research, you power through.

The chimera, she has been opening herself up to you. When she gets anxious, her feathers ruffle, and you shush her with pets. She calms down occasionally. Once, you had encountered her, blood on her body and under her fingernails. You cleaned her using the mana-infused water. She had never looked so calm.

She doesn’t feel like a monster you have tamed, but a friend.

This scares you.

Sure, there’s the possibility that the chimera is an unnatural phenomenon, and isn’t even a monster.

But that also means you’re losing your resolve.

The chimera sits with you, as you scrub her red-scaled talons free of dirt and blood. Her upper body leans on you, resting. You can even hear little chirps slipping from her lips.

She’s so cute.

Even as her golden eyes soften, the small slits in them dilating to exhibit relaxation, she smiles at you. You don’t flinch when her hands take your face to look at you. She’s a bird after all – she might be trying to memorise you, how you look, so she knows not to hurt you in the future.

You were nearly about to reminisce on your further embarrassment when the chimera speaks.

Four words. She spoke four words in the common language, leaving you staring at her. You’re speechless. She must know that she’s caught you off guard as she slowly tucks your hair behind your ear and moves away.

The moment is quickly ruined. “Dragon!” A boyish voice calls. “There you are. You’ve been leaving my side so frequently. There’s no time to–”

An elf in a cloak freezes upon noticing you. His heavy eye bags rival your own as he glares down at your sitting position.

You don’t do anything, merely looking up at your friend in confusion. She is back to being silent again, reaching her arms out to the elf, as if about to pick him up. He swats at her, before pointing at you.

“Kill them,” he demands her.

She hesitates. You also find yourself unable to move. So the chimera is under someone’s control after all. This elf, forcing you apart from your friend.

You hardly process your friend lifting you off the floor, her fingers closing in around your throat. Tighter and tighter. Your eyes can barely make out her empty expression as she squeezes the life out of your lungs.

Snap.

You fall onto the floor, and the mad mage leaves with his dragon in tow.

Day ??: “My name is Falin.” The chimera told me this last time we encountered one another. She has a name. A beautiful name that belongs just to her. Falin. …I would say ‘my Falin’, but she is not. She is under the control of that elf. I wouldn’t want her to be my Falin anyway. She shouldn’t belong to anyone. I was revived by a kindly Eastern woman, who is accompanying a group of retainers following their lord. They are joined by another party, also recently revived. Apparently, in my revival, I had uttered her name, “Falin,” and captured the attention of the malnourished lord. He is looking for her. …I was informed she is his love. Pushing personal feelings aside, I asked to come along. I neglected to mention Falin’s current state. I couldn’t do that to him right now. Maybe once he sleeps, or eats… but not now. Falin, I wish to save you. That is my goal now. You are not a monster to be tamed.

Four

Today, you met Laios Touden.

He is Falin’s older brother, you learn.

You met a lot of people, actually. You met Falin’s party, an elf who Falin went to school with, as well as Laios Touden.

“You’ve seen Falin?” He asks you, brow creased. He had leaned forward in interest. Lord Toshiro, Kabru, and Asebi were also listening to you with intrigue.

You nod. “Yes, but I fear the situation might be a little more than you have bargained for,” you vaguely inform.

Your words would be interrupted by Laios’ request to talk privately with Toshiro, to which you comply. You do already have a feeling of what's being said, something Kabru seems to pick up on as he glances over at you.

“Falin… isn’t faring well, is she?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” you reply. Kabru grimaces, clearly not appreciating your rather… erratic way of conversing. You add before he could talk back, “she’ll come back for me.”

Kabru furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”

His question remains unanswered until you are swept up in a heated battle. Looks of horror cross everyone’s faces at the bloody acts committed by the chimera.

You merely smile.

“Hello beauty,” you whisper when she turns to you. Falin steps forward, cornering you. You welcome her with open arms – and the world becomes dark again.

Day ??: Scorned though I may be by Lord Toshiro, I know myself not to be mad, but in love. Yes, I am in love. I know this now for certain. I know that he, too, is in love. I do not see his wishes badly. In fact, from a sane man’s mouth, it is perfectly understandable. Dark magic is dangerous. As is love. He’s risking his own reputation for it, even if others don’t appear to see things the way he does. But when push comes to shove, I am not that sane man. I am joining Laios Touden’s party in the retrieval of Falin. The aftermath of the battle consisted of a hearty meal. Who knew monsters could taste so nice? Keep this in mind for the next adventure. I had figured this all came from the result of black magic. Marcille Donato is a much more interesting woman than I thought. I’m sure I could learn a lot from her. Hence, we march forward. I know you aren’t in your right mind, Falin, but trust that I am. I will risk it all for you, beauty.

Five

The ice is cold underneath your fingertips. The woman encased inside is relaxed, as if she’s merely asleep. To see her completely separated from the lower half of the chimera body was something uncanny to you, so used to seeing her towering over you, able to squash you like a bug.

You turn to Marcille as she approaches. “You had the right mind, keeping her fresh like this. Deep down, you really did want to follow through with the plan!”

The blonde elf is sheepish. “I did end up causing a right mess in the end. It… It was selfish of me.”

“It was love,” you reply.

“Not the love Falin needs, though,” she finishes.

You both stare up at her in silence. If you were delusional enough, you could swear you could see Falin breathing.

“I love her,” you admit, quieter than you have ever been. “Is that alright with you?”

Marcille turns to you, her eyes wide. For such a gossip, she really hasn’t picked up on it?

“I…” She hesitates. Her hands reach her trousers, and she scrunches up the fabric in her hands. “It’s not my choice what – or who – Falin chooses. I don’t think I have the right to decide anything for her.”

You nod, graciously taking Marcille’s word to heart.

You feel you’ve also changed throughout your journey. Volatile as you may be, you appreciate Falin as she is. An untamed beauty. Not for anyone to claim or put their ideals onto.

She’s simply Falin.

“Come on,” Marcille takes your hand. She has the kind of look on her face where you know she accepts you readily. “Let’s go eat, okay? For Falin.”

You smile back. “For Falin.”

I don’t care about the day anymore. Falin is being revived today. Soon, I’ll have a chance to meet the real her. The beauty behind the beast. Ha. I haven’t called her that for a while. Maybe I’ll follow Toshiro’s way and propose immediately too? No, Marcille may accept me, but that might result in another need for revival. I can’t wait to get to know you.

the first time

Falin opens the door with a dazed expression, not expecting the crowd waiting around the door. Of course, this resulted in quite the hoo-ha. People running around, celebrating the successful revival of Falin Touden. You wait patiently for you to be welcomed once more.

The woman is sitting calmly at her bed. Some of her features are still feathered, but you’ve always liked how they felt underneath your fingertips.

She glances up at you, examining your form.

You’re taller than she thought.

“Hi,” you say, handing over a random blade of grass you picked.

Falin takes it. Her fingers brush against your own. She starts twirling the natural green between her fingers. She smiles warmly. “Hello,” her soft, tired voice returns. It’s so sweet that you might melt. “My name is Falin. It’s nice to meet you.”

You know from the way she glances up at you that she already remembers you quite well.

Feeling the happiest you’ve ever been, you fall into Falin, pulling her into the tightest of hugs.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you too, beauty.”

Today, she asked me if she could belong to me. I said yes, but only if she belonged to herself first. She accepted.

#✮ grimm's fics!#FALLS OVER #this is my longest fic so far i think wow #as falin deserves #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #falin #falin touden #falin x reader #falin imagines #falin touden x reader #falin touden imagines

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subskz · 2 days

Note

shibari n edging + overstim w han 😵‍💫💗

he already gets tied up so often its not hard to imagine lmao

so true 🙂‍↕️

the way he just goes limp and lets whoever’s tying him up have their way w him…he’s so senstive that he can’t help but react to every little touch so tying him up for an edging session would be a must, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep still for you no matter how hard he tries to be good. poor hannie will be bucking his hips like crazy after you pull your hand away just a few times, so imagine how bad it’d get once you start overstimming him through his orgasm w all his cum adding an extra slickness to it

a shibari pattern on his beautiful body 😵‍💫 the way the rope would look laced around his biceps and pecs, accentuating his muscles just right to make them bulge a little <3 he’d be half hard before you’re even done restraining him bc just feeling the rough brush of the rope against his skin gets him so excited. and ofc his arms would need to be bound behind his back so he can’t grab desperately at you when the edging starts to make his dick throb bc he needs to cum so bad and the ache just keeps building up w no relief. all he can do is whine low in his throat and thrash around in his restraints until his skin starts to sting from the rope chafing against it </3

#i love this emoji so much lol 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ <- me nodding sagely to the delicious ideas u guys have #ask #💌 hannie

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jaembun · 2 days

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the way you look should be a sin.

if mark’s at your door, the only thing you’re going to do is let him in ！⠀⸻⠀mark lee x gnr ⠀ fluff (?) pre rs ⠀ wc 1.4k ⠀ now playing . . ☆

생각⠀my girlfriend! my! girlfriend! thnku isa for inspiring me to write this he’s kind of the only thing important ever

you hadn’t really been properly asleep anyway, having drifted off in a half-slumber after scrolling mindlessly on your phone for a while, and you supposed that was why the sudden sound of it ringing from its place still loosely clasped in your hand woke you up so easily. everything was still vaguely blurry when you pushed yourself onto your elbows, squinting hard in order to see the name of the contact flashing across your screen. mark met your eyes, and you flopped backwards onto your mattress before tapping the accept button and then pressing the same hand to your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“are you awake?”

you pulled the phone back from your ear to aim a slightly incredulous look at it, even if you knew your best friend would’ve been none the wiser to the expression.

“i mean, i am now. what is it, markles? did you forget something?”

mark stumbled over his next words, muttering them under his breath more than anything. “no, but.. ah, nevermind, dude, it’s fine. i don’t know why i called.”

you sat up slightly in your bed, ignoring the slight chill the blanket falling away from yourself gave you, eyebrows furrowed a little in concern at the unsure tone of your friend. “mark? what’s up?”

he started to say something more but cut himself off, words trailing off into nothing. it was silent on the phone for a few moments then, only the sound of your shared faint breathing coming through the lines until he finally got his words together and spoke up properly.

“i’m, um. i’m outside your apartment.”

that woke you up fully, eyes widening a little as you stood up out of your bed, leaving it unmade as you padded over to your window and looked down more than a few floors to the street outside—where, if you squinted, you could almost make out mark’s figure lit up by the streetlights and standing alone on the pavement, recognisable mostly by his familiar fleece jacket.

“what the fuck, mark? i’ll buzz you in, come on. you must be freezing, i don’t—why are you over here so late? did donghyuck sexile you, or something?”

you stayed at the window just long enough to watch his small head shake before moving over to your door in order to let him up, shivering again with the now complete lack of your blanket.

“nah, he’s at jeno’s. i just.. i don’t know. i missed you, man.”

the words made you stop in your tracks, for a second. his voice was small, but it sounded sincere—and it was sincere, you knew it was, because mark couldn’t have told a lie even if he was paid to do it. had been earnest since before he knew what it meant. you covered how choked up you suddenly felt by scoffing, depsite it sounding weak even to your own ears.

“yah, you sweet talker, you probably just want me to make you a hot chocolate. get up here already, hm?”

his laugh was barely that, sounded more like an exhale of air than anything, but you were glad for it all the same. quiet fell over the two of you again, but this time it was more comfortable, with only the idle sounds of the elevator and his footfalls coming all the way to your door.

“see you in a sec,” was all you murmured through the line before hanging up and shoving your phone into the pocket of your sweats, fiddling with the lock on the door for a moment, another, before it was finally open and mark was standing before you.

he looked tired—you weren’t surprised, seeing the last time you checked it was creeping past two in the morning—but his mouth still curved up into a small smile that you mirrored with ease, beckoning him in and pushing the door shut behind him, reaching out with the tips of your fingers to slide the lock into place.

“so what’s up, markl—“

before the nickname could fully pass your lips mark was falling into you, head finding solace tucked into the crook of your neck and hands coming up to loosely grip onto the fabric of your shirt on your waist. his fingertips were red from the cold, but his cheek was hot from where it was resting on your shoulder.

“can we.. go t’bed?”

it was just as mumbled as it’d been over the phone, but this time a lot louder—he was right next to your ear, after all, his periodic soft exhales hitting your skin causing little shivers running across it that weren’t from the chill, this time. you simply nodded in answer to his request and attempted to detach yourself from his grip to walk him over to your unmade (but comfortable, you defended to yourself) mess of a bed, but mark made a vaguely whiny noise of protest and clung onto you tighter.

your laugh came out a little too high in the dead silence of your apartment, hoping even if mark did notice the way your ears burned a little hotter that he’d be kind enough (or tired enough, at least) not to bring it up as you slowly walked him to the sheets, trying not to trip up on his feet shuffling backwards, trying not to focus on the way he felt so malleable in your careful hold.

“take this off,” you murmured lowly once you’d reached the foot of your bed, tugging gently at the fleece he was still wearing and trying not to cringe at how suggestive your words sounded even if your intentions were innocent. you focused on nudging at his feet, too, where his shoes were still on. “and these. you’re not putting your dirty trainers anywhere near my blanket, markles, for real.”

“mm.” was all he hummed in reply, but didn’t move from his spot. you were ready to do it for him if it came down to it, but before you could reach for the zipper of his jacket he taking half a step back, barely out of your space, and doing it himself. they were left lying idle on your floor once he’d rid himself of both the offending items, but you figured they’d be just fine for a night—it wasn’t like you didn’t have a few hoodies and jeans doing exactly the same thing while you avoided putting them away properly for a day or two longer.

where you stopped in your place once he had deemed himself ready go, unsure of what move to make next, mark had no such qualms. he let himself fall back onto your sheets and got himself comfortable like they were his own, the way his brow furrowed when he didn’t see you following a clear indication of what he wanted you to do, and you found yourself being able to do nothing but comply with his wishes, slipping in next to him after abandoning your phone on the bedside table.

the lights were faint, streetlights only just shining in through your window, but you could still see his brown eyes trained on your own as you led there face-to-face. you tried to speak but, embarrassingly enough, your throat failed you, and so you only tried again after turning to the side for a moment to clear it.

“are you okay?”

the smile was back. still small, still sincere. “i am now.” and. oh. mark was so—lovely, sometimes. all the time. you didn’t know what to do. but it seemed you didn’t need to, because then he was turning over, away from you, and then shifting backwards until it was all too clear right where he wanted you.

and so, swallowing back the way you felt choked up for the second that evening, you shuffled closer and slung an arm over his hip, feeling him relax under your touch almost instantly. it was more than just your blankets providing you with warmth, now. mark had always run a little hotter.

“night, markles.“ you mumbled half-into the nape of his neck, lips almost brushing his skin. there was a light sound as he tossed a hand back to find where yours was resting on his side and squeezed once. twice.

“see you t’morrow, ynnie.”

and that was all it needed to be. a boy in your arms, both in your bed. sharing warmth until the sunlight pouring in through your windows would force you to leave it. as simple as that.

#⠀⠀⏖ works ⊹ ᶻ ⁺⠀⠀#⠀⠀마크 ⠀ ♪⠀⠀#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #he is sooooo this song im in love with him a little bit

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 12 hours

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For All Eternity

So much for the planned fic...anyways here you all go, some angst with fluff and comfort at the end!

Summary: Astarion gets badly injured and you nurse him back to health.

The fight started like any other fight usually did, with you doing all you could to avoid one until there was no other option, and then Karlach would happily charge in, swinging her mighty axe to cut the enemies down. Astarion would hide in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to put a bolt through flesh and you would incinerate whoever was left standing from afar while Shadowheart supported everyone from the backline.

Unfortunately, today’s fight turned out differently. A deurgar had spotted Astarion and went straight for the vampire, bringing its greatsword down to cleave through undead flesh. A cry slipped from Astarion’s lips, alerting you and your companions to what had just happened. Karlach immediately went to work clearing a path to him for you, hacking and slashing at any duergar who came close whilst you ran, faster than you’ve ever run before with the Weave crackling at your fingertips, ready to be unleashed.

Astarion barely manages to roll out of the way of the next blow, hissing when his injured shoulder makes contact with the hard ground and staggers to his feet. He can feel the blood flowing down, seeping through his fingers as he tries to staunch the bleeding to no avail. He messily dodges the next attack but the third connects once more, this time tearing open his thigh. He collapses against the stone wall behind him, painting it red with his blood and he wonders if it’s possible for a vampire to die of blood loss. He’s definitely never heard of one going out in such a way. The thought that he might be the first one to do so brings a sardonic smile to his face, at least he’d go out in a special way.

The duergar snarls in victory and swings again, ready to end the fight when a fireball flies out of nowhere, incinerating it before its blade can land.

“Astarion!” He vaguely hears you call. His vision is getting blurry, he can barely see the charred corpse of the duergar in front of him and he starts to get a little worried. Was he going to die right in front of you? That would be a terrible way to go. You’d cry until you had no more tears left to give, that pretty face of yours all scrunched up and tear-stained. He didn’t like that thought, he’d want you to not be around when he died, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the hurt he’d caused you by dying.

“Astarion!” Your voice is louder now. You must be close, maybe right in front of him but he can barely see, with black spots eating up more and more of his vision.

“Astarion, look at me! Don’t die on me!” He wonders how shit he looks right now, with his own blood all over him. His armour must be painted in his own crimson liquid, a sorry sight to be certain. For a moment, he wishes you weren’t here to see him in such a state but then the fresh scent of your blood floods his nostrils and all he can think about is how hungry he is.

Instinctively, he opens his mouth and lets the blood in, swallowing every drop that comes his way. He hears you let out a sigh of relief and you swim into view as his body heals itself back up with the aid of your blood that is now coursing through his veins.

“Y/N,” he says tiredly, sending you a grin even as his body struggles to keep upright.

“You scared me,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m a vampire spawn, I’m supposed to scare you.” Even when exhausted, the snark never stops.

“Not you though.” You whisper into his ear, burying your face into his hair. “I’m so relieved I got to you in time.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, feeling his eyelids close. Your embrace feels nice as always, warm, soothing, filled with so much love and care that he starts to slip into unconsciousness, spurred on by his body’s demands to rest and recover.

“Astarion?” He hears the slight panic in your voice. He wills his mouth to open, to reassure you with his honeyed words that everything is alright and he’s just going to take a nap but his mouth refuses to cooperate. His body feels heavy, keeping anything open takes everything he has and he’s losing this fight.

“Astarion please, stay awake, stay with me!” He can hear you beg, beg for him to open his eyes, to look at you, to say something. He does, he really wants to do all those things but his damn body won’t cooperate, and suddenly, he’s seized by this fear that he may never see you again, never feel your touch again, never hear your laugh again.

No. No. He will not let that happen. He can’t lose you, he hasn’t taken his revenge on Cazador yet, he hasn’t told you that he loves you yet, he can’t just roll over and die. Still, his body shuts down and he feel his consciousness slipping away. Fear grips his heart as he struggles against the exhaustion but in the end, he loses.

“Astarion!”

When he next opens his eyes, new scents flood his nose. He can smell medicine, residual blood and…

Something brushes against his arm, causing him to turn his attention to whatever it was at his side. A messy mop of hair obscures the figure’s face but he knows its you, how could he not? All those nights spent running his fingers through that mop of hair, sweat and saliva exchanged, he knew you inside and out, just like how you knew him to the same degree.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. His throat refuses to produce the sound, demanding instead for sustenance, for blood.

“Astarion, you’re awake.”

He never gets tired of the way his name rolls off your lips. He could listen to it all day but you’d probably get bored of doing that for a whole day so he settles for simply listening to your voice all day instead.

You slice open your wrist, pressing the wound to his lips and he drinks from it thirstily, swallowing huge gulps at a time. The liquid washes down his throat, wetting it and sends new waves of energy surging through his body, breathing life back into it.

Its at this point he usually stops drinking, ensuring you didn’t die from blood loss but you don’t pull away, neither do you show any sign of wanting him to stop. He stops anyways, not wanting to be the cause of your death and looks at you quizzically when you press the still bleeding wound to his lips once more.

“Drink,” is all you say, in a firm tone that leaves no room for discussion. He obliges, still worried about your health but then Shadowheart comes in with a tray of healing potions and you take a swig from one of them.

You really were going to keep yourself topped up by chugging healing potions.

Normally, Astarion would warn you against doing so but his body desperately wants blood, and you were willing to provide so he continues drinking, taking short breaks in between to ensure you didn’t suddenly collapse or anything. He didn’t want to face the wrath of the party members outside should he be the cause of your death, not that he wanted you to die from him drinking your blood in the first place.

At last, his hunger is satiated and he licks the wound, signalling that he has no more need of your blood for the time being. You withdraw your arm, finishing off the bottle of healing potion to allow the wound to close and turn back to face him, checking him over.

“I’m quite alright, darling. No need to fret.”

“Just checking.”

“Thank you for your concern, love, really, but would you be so kind as to not look at me as if I were on death’s door?”

“You were just moments ago!”

“If I recall correctly, being undead means I’m already dead. Therefore —”

“You had me worried sick! I thought you were going to die!” Tears prick the corners of your eyes. Astarion swallows whatever he was going to say, his mind racing through all the possible ways of consoling you.

“I…I…” The words lodge themselves in your throat, your saliva thick with tears as you struggle to put your jumbled thoughts into words.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you sob. “Back then, when I saw the duergar about to swing his sword down, all I could think about was that I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want you to leave me, I wanted you by my side, I wanted you with me.”

He holds you close, feeling your tears stain his clothes but he doesn’t care. He lets you cry, releasing all your pent up frustrations in one go and simply hugs you tightly.

“I’m…sorry, for worrying you,” he murmurs, the apology meant only for your ears. You bury your face deeper into his shoulder in response, fingers gripping tightly onto his shirt. He breathes in your raw scent, unearthed by your lack of a bath and whispers how much he loves you in all the ways he knows how without using the word ‘love’.

“Promise me, that you won’t pull such a stunt again?” You plead, looking into his ruby red eyes with your tear-stained ones.

“I promise, love. You will have me for all eternity.”

“And I promise too, that you will have me for all eternity.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion #astarion fluff #astarion fic #bg3 fluff #bg3 fic

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sergeantsporks · 17 hours

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writing request: hunter carving waffles :)

Sorry that I'm writing this over a year after you sent it. The passage of time eludes me always

xxx

“What’s that?”

Hunter quickly closed his notebook before Luz could take a peek. “Homework.”

“Uh-huh. You know, you could just say it was your diary, and I wouldn’t try to read it.”

“It’s not a diary.”

She flopped dramatically against him, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Your tortured poetry, perhaps? Or Cosmic Frontier fanfiction?”

Hunter moved to the side, letting her fall. “It’s homework. Palisman homework.”

Luz picked herself up. “Palisman homework? On paper? Are you making designs or something? I thought you just… carved.”

She wasn’t going to let up, was she? Hunter sighed, flipping the cover of his journal back and forth. “If you must know, I’m brainstorming. Dell’s dead-set on me carving my own palisman, and I’m trying to figure out what the best fit would be.”

Luz’s face softened into something that was close to pity, but felt more like understanding. “Oh,” she said simply.

It wasn’t that he necessarily OPPOSED the idea of having a palisman again. Spending time with the Bat Queen and all her abandoned palisman had opened up an ache in his chest, an ache he could only describe as ‘pining.’ He wanted a palisman so badly it hurt.

But whenever he tried to think about what that palisman would be, what he would carve, who he wanted to spend his life with, all he could think about was Flapjack. Or, when he wasn’t thinking about Flapjack, the form of his future palisman slipped outside of his grasp. All he could think about was the feeling, the connection. Like his palisman was already curled up inside of his chest, like he was already bonded to them, even though they didn’t exist.

“I’m just having trouble picturing it. Can’t think of what I want, you know?”

“A wolf?” Luz suggested.

“Maybe.”

He’d actually carved a wolf out of practice wood and gifted it to Eber—besides a songbird, it was probably the shape he was most familiar with. But holding that little wolf statue in his hands hadn’t felt right. It hadn’t clicked the way he’d always imagined finding your palisman’s shape would. He’d carved a few for others, and when the wood shaped underneath his hands, he could feel the palisman’s soul bursting through, could feel already the hum of connection with its partner. He’d seen it on his clients’ faces, too, a sort of light in their eyes. The way their faces sparked with recognition when they saw the animal carved into the wood.

“You could always carve an egg, like I did. Let them decide.”

That didn’t sound quite right either. Not that he minded his palisman choosing their own form, or that he thought Luz had picked a worse route, but he wanted to give them form. He wanted to give them something special, to handpick something just for them, something that said ‘I know what I want and I know who you are, and I’ve thought about you for so long.’

“So…” Luz tapped the journal cover. “Ideas for what it’ll be, then?”

“Some of them.” A flush crept across Hunter’s face and ears. “I’m also… brainstorming a list of things that might be my greatest wish?”

To Luz’s credit, she didn’t laugh, although her face screwed up like she was trying very hard not to. “You’re… making a list.”

Hunter nodded. “I figured I could make a list of all the things I want from life, then arrange them in tiers to narrow down which wish is most likely to wake up my palisman.”

“Uh-huh. Well—” she was trying so hard to not say something about spontaneity and living in the moment, he could see it. “—whatcha got so far? Maybe I can help.”

“It’s my greatest wish, not yours.”

“Aw, come on, two heads are better than one! I didn’t realize my greatest wish until I talked to my mom.”

“Fine. Nosy.” Hunter opened his journal. “I think—I mean, so far, I’ve mostly got what I said to Belos that night, you know? Studying wild magic, going to Hexside, playing flyer derby with my friends, learning to carve palisman… those are the things I want. But, well, I’m already accomplishing those things, you know? I’m enrolled at Hexside, Eda’s already told me I’ve got a place at the university if I want it, I play with the Entrails every other day after school, and I’m carving palisman with Dell the days I don’t practice with the Entrails. They’re still things I want, but they’re also things I’m doing.”

Frustration built up in the back of Hunter’s throat, and he ran a hand through his hair. Surely there had to be something else, something he was missing. “Belos is gone, the throne room is destroyed, so everything I used to want… it’s done! I accomplished it. I can’t use those wishes to wake up a palisman—they didn’t even work to save the palisman I had!”

The moment the words left his mouth, he froze. Luz gave him another one of those looks, those looks of terrible, sad understanding.

“Oh, Hunter—”

“I’m fine.” Hunter closed the journal again, tucking it into his schoolbag. “I’ll figure it out. I’ve got to go meet Dell.”

In reality, his carving tutoring didn’t start for another hour, but anything was better than sitting here for another second. He swung his bag over his shoulder and warped away before Luz could say anything else. He could practically hear her voice in his head, though—Hunter, what happened to Flapjack wasn’t your fault. Hunter, there was nothing you could do. Hunter, Flapjack would want you to be happy. Hunter, your wishes back then have nothing to do with healing palisman so why don’t you just use one of those perfectly-fine statements and get it over with; stop overthinking it.

Okay, the last part wasn’t Luz’s voice, but it was still true. Flapjack had chosen him based on an off-hand statement about wanting to choose his own future. He hadn’t even been talking to the palisman. Why put so much effort and time into considering the perfect wish? Because he’d watched Luz agonize over it? From what he’d heard, Willow and Gus’s palisman had chosen them quickly, with a simple statement. Why was he searching so hard for the perfect wish? The palisman wouldn’t wake up without the right words anyway—he could say whatever he wanted to them, and he’d know he’d made the true wish when they came to life.

Dell had already set aside the wood for him. A beautiful, perfect stump of palistrom, taken from one of the tree’s thick branches. The rings sat in exact circles, not a single knot or lump in the wood as far as Hunter could see. Hunter almost wished there was an imperfection in the wood. “Oops, sorry! Can’t get to work on this! Oops, it’ll take a while to sand out this knot, so why don’t we leave the whole project off for later?”

Instead, he picked up the perfect piece of wood, imagining each stroke of the chisel. Peeling back layers of wood in perfect blue curls, until the wood became…

He thought again of Flapjack, and put the wood down. He wouldn’t carve a cardinal—he knew better than anyone that it wouldn’t be the same, that a recreation of Flapjack wouldn’t be Flapjack. It would probably hurt worse to have a palisman that looked exactly like Flapjack but wasn’t, and for a brief, spiraling moment, he thought he understood how Belos had felt about him.

“Thinking about your future palisman?”

Hunter jumped at Dell’s voice, nearly knocking the wood off the table. “You’re early.”

Dell chuckled. “So are you.” He sat slowly down at the workbench, holding his cane between his hands and looking at Hunter expectantly.

“I still haven’t figured out what I want to carve.”

“I see.” Dell’s eyes twinkled. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Hunter swallowed. What secret? A carving technique? A shortcut to finding one’s deepest wish? “Of course.”

“I didn’t carve my palisman.”

It took a moment for the words to register in Hunter’s mind. Five simple words, and for a moment, they made Hunter feel like the ground had fallen away. “What?” he said finally.

“I didn’t carve my palisman,” Dell repeated easily, “She was passed onto me—she’s been in the family business for a while. The day my mother died and I inherited the carving business, she flew to my shoulder and has been there ever since. She did the same for my mother, and for her parent, and for their father before them.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Was he planning on giving his palisman to Hunter when he died? Not that Hunter minded taking care of her, but it was a heavy topic.

Dell sighed, stretching. “My palisman was passed on to me. Despite guiding many others to their heart’s desire, I’ve never had to confront my own. I’ve never been in the place you are now, trying to pick the perfect creature to carve. I can only offer the same advice I’ve offered to countless young witches trying to find their way in life.”

“Which is?”

Dell smiled, pointing his cane at Hunter’s chest. “Stop thinking with your head. Let go of the stress, the anxiety of picking something so permanent as a palisman. Still your thoughts, quiet your heart. Then, and only then, will you know what you want. Then, your palisman will find you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Take the wood home.”

“What?”

“Take it home. And your tools. No carving lesson for today.”

“I—”

“When your teacher gives you a project in school, they give you time to work on it, yes?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Today is a work day. I want you to focus on your palisman. Go.”

Focus on my palisman.

I can do this.

An hour and a half of staring at a lump of blue wood later, Hunter almost wanted to throw the palistrom through the window. He wouldn’t, of course, not after everything the species had been through, but he was very, very tempted.

Finally, he picked up the wood and his tools. “Still thoughts, quiet heart,” he breathed, “Fine. Carve. Just carve! It’s not like I’m going to wake it up right now, I’m just carving. It’s just like anyone else’s palisman, except it might maybe be mine.”

Hunter took a deep breath, and started to carve. Petals of blue shavings fell to the floor, and Hunter thought briefly of how Darius would gasp if he saw the mess. But his attention turned quickly back to the statue forming underneath his hands with every rhythmic scrape. At some point, Darius turned on the bedroom light, scolding him for how he’d strain his eyes, but Hunter barely registered the complaint. He noticed even less when Darius came back to warn him not to stay up too much later, or he’d be exhausted at school. There was only him and the palisman. Blisters rubbed onto his hands, and a dozen tiny splinters stuck in his fingers, but it wasn’t until one of the blisters popped, oozing blood and pus, that he stopped, shaken from the trance he’d fallen into.

“Ow.”

Hunter shook his hands. It wasn’t just the blisters and splinters—his hands had stiffened up from gripping the chisels and knives, sore and achy. He cautiously rubbed his eyes. When was the last time he’d blinked? The clock beeped an accusatory “5 AM” at him, and he wandered to the bathroom to take care of his injuries. First, he used tweezers to pluck out the splinters, then dressed his blisters and applied about five thousand band-aids to them. He chuckled at the sight. Back in the coven, his hands had constantly been bandaged because of blisters from training with his staff, or bruised and busted knuckles. But even in this peaceful life, it seemed he couldn’t escape the blisters and bruises.

Well, maybe you could if you stopped carving and went to bed at a reasonable time, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Darius’ said in his mind.

Hunter returned to his room, picking up the palisman.

A bird.

His heart sank, even as he kicked himself for it. Of course when he’d zoned out and emptied his mind he’d carved a bird—why had he expected anything else? Of course Flapjack was still in the front of his mind, of course he’d carve a…

Hunter realized dully that this bird wasn’t a cardinal. He hadn’t painted it yet, of course, although the blue of the wood seemed to suit it. But even so, the head swooped back instead of up, the beak was thinner, and the wings tilted down rather than back. This wasn’t the same bird.

“It’s just that I couldn’t carve the shape right,” Hunter said out loud, “I messed up. It’s not because… because…”

Had he just failed at carving a cardinal? Something about this palisman seemed different. Hunter sat it back down on his desk, resting his arms on the table’s surface and his head on his arms. Maybe it was just delirium from lack of sleep.

“You’re beautiful,” he told the bird, “I’m sure I can find you a good home—you deserve someone better than me. I mean, I didn’t even try. I just carved what I’m most familiar with. I’m sorry.” He gently brushed her—how he knew the palisman was a she, he didn’t know—beak with bandaged fingers. “I just wish…” he trailed off, fighting to stay awake. “I just wish every witch and their palisman could have what Luz and Stringbean have. What Eda and Owlbert, Amity and Ghost, Willow and Clover, and Gus and Emmiline have.” His eyes finally drifted shut, his hand still gently patting the palisman’s head. “I just wish everyone could have what Flapjack and I had,” he murmured.

Somewhere outside of the haze of sleep, Hunter heard a chirp.

#toh #the owl house #writing requests #toh hunter #hunter clawthorne #hunter deamonne #hunter wittebane #toh waffles #toh fanfiction #my writing

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cinewhore · 2 days

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The Duchess of London (2)

Pairing: Thomas “Tommy” Shelby x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, drugs, blood, gore, fighting, guns, fluff.

A/N: Wrote the first part damn near a year ago! Wanted to finally finish it off. Please know that another part is highly unlikely! No beta. Enjoy! Credits to the gif artist.

Thomas Shelby ends up on your doorstep three months later.

Technically, it was the door of the Gentlemen’s Club, Adonis, where you helped to manage the talent and had a few stocks invested in.

If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve missed him entirely. Tommy remained seated in the back of the room near the door, one leg crossed over the other, fingers delicately grasping the rim of a glass. It was a talent of his, being able to blend into a room seamlessly while still maintaining a sense of distinctiveness. You couldn’t lie, the thought of seeing him again taunted you day after day. Thinking about his plump lips on yours, hands pressing against your neck-

A throat clears. “I believe it’s your turn, Duchess.”

You blink a few times, returning to the present. Sir Donald Chesnut fixes you with a stare, pool stick tapping the floor impatiently.

Giving him your best innocent smile, you nod and saunter around the table. There were two of his stripes left compared to your four solids. The men who gathered to “watch” all gawked as you bent over the velvet lined table, dress straining against your backside. You’re sure to milk their attention for all its worth, a teeny frown sprawling across your face as you stand back up.

“Must I repeat the rules of the game for you, miss? See those colored balls? You have to hit them into the holes. Do you understand?” Donald taunts, voice barely masking his mockery.

You smile and shrug. “Gee, I just can’t seem to decide which one to hit, they’re all so pretty!”

A few in the audience chuckle at the perceived naivete. Thomas takes a swig of his drink, watching your hands carefully.

“Let me assist you then.”

Donald pushes up against you, hands helping to position yours correctly. Upon steading them, you attempt to hit one of your balls but fail to do so. You jerk back into him as you laugh, hands fanning at your cleavage.

“I’m not even sure how I got the other balls in, must be a lady’s luck.” you comment.

“Sure.” Donald nods, already gearing up for his next shot. He sinks his two remaining balls with ease but misses the eight ball by a hair.

“Oh! You almost had it. Maybe I can catch up.”

“Good luck.” Donald tuts, hands grazing your ass as he passes behind you.

The act drops immediately and you get to work cleaning up the table. The balls clinking against each other before they sink into the pockets fills you with such pleasure you fight hard to maintain your poker face.

The eight ball lays just a few inches away from the right corner pocket, albeit at an odd angle. If you weren’t careful, it was an easy shot to miss and you didn’t want to give this fucker a chance to win. That didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun with your prey.

“Are you gonna call it?” Donald asks.

“Eight ball, middle right pocket.

Donald huffs out something that sounded like a mix between a snort and a sigh. “No fuckin’ way. You can’t make that!”

You don’t take your eyes off of him as you station yourself off center to the ball, cocking the pool stick until the weight of the wood feels comfortable in your hands. Sucking in a small breath, you let the stick slip through your fingers as you exhale. You could feel everyone else in the room hold their own collective breath as the ball pings around the table, making haphazard patterns until it slowly nears the pocket.

The eight ball all but comes to a complete stop before it finally drops into the pocket, the white ball close behind. You refuse to move, afraid that any sudden shift could cause the other ball to fall in behind it.

The ball edges you as it nears the pocket but you release a sigh of relief as it comes to a halt. You don't dare celebrate openly, just smile and wink at Donald, who was turning more red by the minute. Murmurs fly and papers shuffle as the men protest about their lost money.

Thomas finally approaches you as the others file out of the room, for sure in search of ways to better their bruised egos.

You don’t pay him any mind as you rack the balls up.

“You look like a professional.”

“You can too. Would you like to learn how to play?”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I can keep steady hands.”

You hum in response, eyes shifting up to meet his. “That’s unfortunate.”

He is quiet as he comes to stand in front of you, hands reaching up to brush against your cheek. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

You pour Tommy another glass of whiskey before settling on the plush cushions next to him. The office space you acquired wasn’t as glamorous as you’d hoped it’d be but it provided a sense of solace where you could conduct business without hosting unwanted people in your home.

“So, is this a visit for pleasure or business? Perhaps both?”

Tommy knocks back his drink, throat bobbing as the cool liquor coats his mouth. “Marry me.”

You sputter out a laugh, shaking your head. “Pardon me?”

“I need you to marry me.”

“No,” you hold out a hand to stop him as you notice that he’s reaching into his coat pocket. “Have you gone fucking mad?”

“I need to form an alliance with the Elephants and this is the best way in.”

He fixes you with that stare and for a moment you’re sucked into his abyss, thinking about the possibility of becoming Mrs. Thomas Shelby but as quickly as the thought comes, it fades. This wasn’t your fight and you found it hardly fair that you were being used as some sort of pawn. You were familiar with his antics and knew that anyone being used by the Shelby clan typically resulted in death. As it so happens, you were pretty fond of your life at the moment.

You stand up from your seat abruptly, pacing back and forth. “I can’t marry you, Tommy.”

“I know it’s not an ideal proposal but you’ll have full control over the wedding details-”

Stopping mid pace, you turn to face your childhood friend. “What, did the war fuck with your hearing? I said I won’t marry you.”

Tommy drops his head, reaching back inside his pockets in search of a cigarette. He gets up to lurk near you, admiring the sour look on your face. “Is this how Marcus turned you down, eh?”

You swallow thickly, resisting to meet his gaze. Of course he knew about Marcus, he knew about everything and then some. The all knowing Shelby’s with their endless amount of dirt, ready to throw it on anyone who stood in their way.

“I don’t know to whom you are referring.” you lie, terribly so. Tommy could hear the pained yearning in your voice.

“Marcus Toussaint, old money from the Toussaints of France. Made their fortune from coal. He’s the youngest of four brothers, the only eligible bachelor left. You two met in Egypt, he was financing an archeological dig and you were there on holiday. Nights spent filled with mutual lust and passion, I assume. He buys you an estate in the Mediterranean, where you spend the majority of the summer.”

Your eyes slip close at the mention of Egypt, a time where you felt you could truly be yourself and not be on guard all the time. Marcus was delicate, thoughtful. He never questioned you about your past and was very encouraging about you wanting to pursue artistic hobbies. He was the one who taught you how to play pool.

“Unfortunately, your summer was cut short when he was forced to return home and he decided to take you with him. He wanted to make you a part of the family but they knew all about you and decided that a two dollar whore from the slums of Brimingham who made her living spending long nights in the beds of men she did not know was not good enough for Marcus. You try so hard to fit in with that crowd, prancing around in your fancy gowns with your nose held up so high that you still can’t smell the shit on your shoe you’re tracking into their houses.”

A rage you had learned to smother was bubbling beneath the brim of your being, a feeling you had never thought would be directed toward Tommy. You knew what he was doing, plunging a knife so deep into your heart and twisting until he got what he wanted out of you. It was all a mistake. You have been used over and over all your life. You were not going to be used by him, even if it cost you your life.

You lick your lips which have since gone dry, forcing your face to return to stone. “It’s always a delight to see you, Mr. Shelby. Travel safely.”

With that, you turn on your heels and exit the room in silent fury. A pair of observant eyes watch you from the stairs above, then switch to regard the back of Tommy as he leaves a few minutes after you.

You normally spent most nights at the club but decided it’s worth it to leave and blow steam off at home, your head a jumbled mess. Everything Tommy said was true but what he didn’t know is that Marcus had told you his family made prior preparations for him to marry the daughter of a tycoon and that he had no say in the matter. You were silly enough to believe him.

You were so caught up in what had just occurred that you hadn’t noticed you were being followed until a hand clamps over your mouth, a black hood shoved over your head.

Tommy watches absent-mindedly as the young woman slips back into her dress, dancing leisurely to the music coming out of the bar a few blocks down. The window was cracked and she was thankful, having put up with enough of Tommy’s smoking. He was on his third cigarette since they finished fucking and she was sure by the time she actually left, he would have finished half the pack.

There’s a knock at the door and the woman stops to look at Thomas expectantly. He doesn’t move an inch but jerks his head near the sound. The woman is cautious as she opens it but cracks the door wider when it’s revealed to be a bellhop.

“Delivery for 317.”

The woman grabs the silver covered platter and thanks the boy. She smiles as she brings it over to Thomas.

“Did you order me something special?”

“No.”

His bluntness doesn’t deter her, she simply shrugs and searches the vanity for her earrings. Tommy takes the lid off to uncover a note folded in half.

The Royale. 8pm.

The hood is snatched off unceremoniously and suddenly you’re in the storage room of a butcher shop, in a chair with your hands tied behind your back. Some of the girls you used to run with when you were younger surround you, with Bobbi aka Big Red at the center.

You give your best smile. “Ladies, are we starting a sewing circle? Book club? I hear Agatha’s new mystery is to die for.”

The first punch comes from Janie on your left. You rock your jaw, hands straining against the rope. “I take it that you didn’t like the novel.”

The second one is from Georgiana. The bitch. To think you were there for her when she found out her husband was screwing her sister.

After the fourth punch, this one to your gut, you were beginning to get fed up.

“Alright, does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“You’ve gotten too big for your britches, that’s what.” Big Red finally speaks up. She took over operations when the leader you knew, Mary, got locked up. Operations almost went to shit but you had to hand it to her, Bobbi knew how to run a tight ship. She wasn’t as popular with the women and laid down stricter rules. Several of which you had broken.

“I don’t have time for riddles, Bobbi.” you chide.

Bobbi snaps her finger and Georgiana brings a chair over so that Bobbi could sit in front of you. “I’ve been watching you for a while now, missy. When Mary put me in charge, I swore I’d keep her seat warm until she got out.”

You tsk. “Last I checked, you squeezed your fat ass in her chair.”

That earned you a hard punch. You needed to dial it back if you wanted to keep your face intact.

“You’ve been fucking one of the Shelby’s.” Janie purrs, popping her gum obnoxiously.

“Not just any Shelby, Thomas Shelby.” Georgiana tacks on.

Big Red makes a motion with her fingers and the clucking chickens get quiet, always obedient for their mother hen. “You know fraternizing with a family like theirs is off limits. Do you know what could happen to us if you were caught with him? We struck a decent deal with Sabini and the last thing I need is for you to jeopardize everything we’ve worked for because you wanted to get your cunt licked.”

You knew that a few girls were messing around with some men who worked for Sabini but you didn’t realize it had gotten so deep. Outside of Thomas and his boys in Birmingham, Sabini had the next biggest family in the area with a huge control over land. It wasn’t like anyone was stealing from them but nothing hurt men more than a broken heart and bruised ego.

“Well, since you like spreading your legs for dirty men like Thomas, poppet, you’re gonna do us a huge favor and use that pretty little face of yours to sway him into staying another night in London. Get him to this location,” Bobbi stuffs a slip of paper down your bra. “We’ll handle the rest.”

Big Red puts your cheek tenderly before snapping her fingers. Georgiana and Janie descend on you like vultures and the only sound echoing through the room is muffled grunts of you getting your ass kicked.

Thomas flips out his pocket watch once more.

8:22pm.

It was unlike you to be late but he figured it was for good reasons. Women and their unnecessary grooming. Growing up around Ada and practically being raised by Polly got him used to being late for certain functions. The waiter enters again and Tommy is ready to refuse another offer on refilling his glass but stops once he sees that you’re being escorted in.

You were mesmerizing. Your body was wrapped in red silk, the material caressing your figure in all the right places. White gloves covered your arms up to your elbows and the front of your dress drapes downward in a cowl design, showing a sufficient amount of cleavage to leave the wandering eye wanting more. To complete your ensemble, you wore a tilted hat with a veil to cover the majority of your face.

Thomas is a gentleman as he stands while you enter, only returning to his seat once you sit on your own.

“You’re late.”

You cock an eyebrow. “And yet, you’re still here.”

As if the waiter was eagerly awaiting for you to take your seat, you barely have time to set down your purse before the first course is brought out. It looked decadent but your stomach was still rolling from earlier. You weren’t sure when your appetite would return.

Thomas doesn’t touch his food either. “So, I take it you’ve changed your mind.”

You take a long sip of wine, swishing the red liquid around the glass before knocking the rest of it back. “Something like that.”

The cigarette makes an appearance. He lights it, waiting for you to continue.

“Look at us. Both came from nothing and here we are. Eating at the finest restaurants, wearing the finest clothes, sitting at tables that otherwise we would’ve been shooed from. And for what? Money?”

Thommy nods, almost as if you’d ask a rhetorical question. “Yes. Money, power, control. I’m taking care of my family just like you would take care of yours.”

“I have no family.” you state, voice a whisper.

“That’s why I’m asking you to be a part of mine.”

The door to the private room swings open and the waiter appears, yet again.

“For fucks sake!” Tommy yells at the poor fellow.

“My apologies, Mr. Shelby but your other guests have arrived.”

Tommy steals a quick glance at you. “I don’t have any other guests.”

You don’t dare turn around in your seat as the echo of numerous footsteps sound off, trailing from the hallway until they reach the dining area.

“Well, well. Looks like the gang's all here.”

The voice sends a chill down your spine. Amelio Sabini. He wasn’t head honcho but far enough up on the food chain for it to mean something.

Tommy clears his throat and puts out his cigarette. He doesn’t stand.

“What? No warm greeting for me or my brothers? Alright then.”

The vultures descend on the table, squeezing in where they could and kicking their feet up. You recognize some of the women on their arms from the club.

“Amelio. You’re interrupting my dinner.”

“Really? Cause if I remember correctly, we were invited. I know you didn’t start eating without me, Tommy. That’s bad business.”

“What’s bad business is discussing it in front of the women. You lot,” he points to the scantily clad girls. “Out.”

The girls all cling to their men, throwing each other nervous glances. You envied them just a little. To be pretty and clueless. It wouldn’t get them very far though.

Amelio gives a signal and they suck their teeth, sulking back out into the main part of the restaurant. You attempt to walk out with them but a goon keeps you firmly in your chair.

“Where are you heading off to, puddin’? You’re the main dish.”

“I take it you’re acquainted?” Tommy asks but you hear the condescending tone laced in the question.

“She’s the one that invited us. Knows the Royale is my favorite. Have you tried the raspberry and chocolate souffle?” Amelio gives a chef's kiss. “Eccellente!”

The men squabble as you mildly disassociate, understanding that this was going to end in one of two ways: you live or you die. And if you did die, Big Red was gonna get what’s coming to her, that’s for damn sure.

Your small break from reality is abruptly ended when the cold metal of a pistol is shoved into your hands.

Your hands graze the gun, a once familiar object now feeling foreign.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Amelio coos. “Let’s not draw this out any longer, eh? We all know how this ends. I don’t want to draw this out any further. Va bene?”

You nod your head slowly, steadying your grip on the weapon. You aim the gun directly at Tommy, unblinking. “Sorry it had to happen this way.”

Tommy gives a half shrug. “Likewise.”

You’re quick to pull the trigger and watch as the bullet whizzes by Tommy’s head and glides straight into the neck of the waiter. The platter in his hands falls, the Beretta masked as the “souffle” tumbling to the ground.

And just like that, the room cascades into a full out battle. Tommy wastes no time in grabbing his own gun and you throw yourself into the heat of action, taking out two more of Amelio’s men before you get clipped in the left arm. You throw yourself down on the ground in search of cover.

Arthur and the other Blinders crowd in from the kitchen, helping Tommy to clear out the room. Finn is careful as he drags you towards the back door, where a car is waiting.

“We can’t just leave them there!” you scream through the searing pain.

“They’ll be fine, trust me!”

Before you could argue your point further, the doors to the car get slammed shut and you’re whisked away from the scene.

Making it back to a small office Tommy owned was nothing short of a miracle. You had never seen or been a part of such a gunfight. However, it wasn’t the shooting that pissed you off.

“I know this was your idea.” you murmur, wincing as Tommy pours more alcohol in your wound.

“I told Big Red to persuade you, didn’t know that meant leaving you with a bruised eye.” Tommy says, double checking to make sure he cleaned the graze thoroughly.

You shake your head. “She’s got it out for me, apparently. You could’ve just asked-”

“I did ask you. This was reassurance.”

You pull away from his touch, a disapproving look etched into your face. “It’s like you don’t even trust me! We’re cut from the same cloth, remember?”

Tommy puts away the whiskey, reaching around you to grab at the gauze. He wraps it around your arm tenderly. Satisfied with his work, he takes a pack of smokes out of his pocket, tucking one between his lips.

He saddles up to where you’re perched on his desk, spreading your legs to stand between them.

“I never doubted you once. There were things that needed to be in place and I wanted to make sure it happened.”

The deep pools of his eyes drag you under and once again, you find yourself pulled into his orbit. No matter how hard your gut alerts you to the dangers of falling in love with Thomas Shelby, you ignore the blaring alarms and steel yourself. He wasn’t like the others, happy to parade you around on their arm like some sort of trophy. You had a mind, a working spirit that was hard to break and a reputation to uphold. You didn’t want to be the dainty, seen but not heard wife.

You wanted to be his equal.

Plucking the cigarette from his lips, you take a quick puff from it, exhaling slowly. “I should go.”

“I’ve arranged for John to take you to the hotel. We didn’t have much time to grab clothing from your place but I can have Pol take you shopping tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“You got me a room?”

Tommy chuckles slightly at the question, demeanor unwavering as he takes a small metal item from his pocket, flipping it in-between his fingers like you’ve seen him do many times before with a coin.

“I got us a suite.”

You stare at the key, understanding that it signified much more than a cozy night in. Accepting this key and going to see him meant that you were tethering yourself to a man you swore was just casual. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that level of commitment.

He pries your hand open, setting the room key in it before closing it gently. Nearly forgetting how to breathe, your eyes flutter close as Tommy seals the deal with a kiss.

He runs a lone finger down your cheek, his own lips plump with the sheen of your affections.

“My proposal still stands.”

Tommy says nothing else as he exits the office, doors groaning in protest at his departure. You open up your hand again. Would you still remain the Duchess or become a Queen?

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