#series: the princess & the lawyer
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Summary: Lloyd delays telling Princess about her stalker’s identity. Vivian has a medical appointment, which leads to an episode of babysitting where Lloyd bonds with a three-year-old. Meanwhile, an unexpected event kicks the serial killer investigation into high gear.
Masterlist
Word Count: 6,866
Warnings: Smut, erotica level explicitness, impact play (Lloyd spanks Princess), and semi-rough sex. Criminal activity including stalking, kidnapping, and murder. Mention of child abandonment and dysfunctional family dynamics.
Chapter 22
From your perch on a barstool, you watched Lloyd stir a pot on the stove. He wore a snug pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. You decided this was your favorite look on him. Lloyd glanced over his shoulder and caught you staring. He smirked.
“See something you like, Princess?”
“Mmmhh. You’re like a real life Calvin Klein model, and you’re cooking me dinner.”
Lloyd snorted. “Their current poster boy is what, twenty-one?”
“I don’t know. Calvin Klein models were more of a middle school fantasy for me.”
“Which models, specifically?” he asked.
“The ones featured during the South African World Cup. The internet was plastered with their photos. You don’t remember?”
“Twelve years ago I was in Afghanistan. They don’t allow underwear commercials.”
“Well, I can’t remember his name, but he was a Danish soccer player, who was like three times my age.”
“You were drooling over thirty-six-year-old men when you were twelve?”
“What? He had really great abs.”
Lloyd shook his head, returning his attention to the pot of soup simmering on the stove.
“They were inescapable, and I had a lot of hormones, okay? All those delicious muscles slathered in baby oil was my sexual awakening.”
“Once you hit thirty, you’ll feel more comfortable thinking about sexual awakenings happening around the age of sixteen, or even better, seventeen.”
You laughed. “That’s not reality.”
He flicked off the burner and winked. “Once you eat something, let’s talk about these soccer player fantasies. I want details.”
“Don’t get your hopes up - I wasn’t old enough to fill in the details. Now, my highschool fantasies? Those are worth talking about.”
Lloyd caught you around the waist and pulled you into his lap when you moved to sit down at the dining room table. You giggled when his hands snuck under the hem of the button down dress shirt you wore, exploring the bare skin he found there.
“No panties?”
“Your dress shirt was all I could find. Someone must have stolen my clothes.”
“What a tragedy,” Lloyd murmured, nuzzling your cheek.
You giggled when his mustache tickled your neck. He kissed along your throat and across your jaw and chin, before finding your lips.
“First we eat, then you tell me everything,” he said.
Eating in Lloyd’s lap was surprisingly comfortable. He didn’t insist on feeding you and didn’t mind when you stole the spoon for yourself. After consuming half of the bowl, you handed it back to him and curled against him while he finished the dish. You sighed, content.
“See, this is even better than my fantasies. You can actually cook-”
“This hardly counts, it’s just soup.”
You ignored him, continuing, “-and you have chest hair. I didn’t know there was such a thing as a chest hair kink, but I definitely have one.”
Lloyd groaned as you traced the whorl pattern of hair on his right pectoral.
“Plus, you’re warm.”
“You’ll be all over me this winter, won’t you?” he said.
“Arm candy, bed warmer, and he’s smart? You really are the whole package, aren’t you?”
You stroked a zigzag pattern through the dark brown hairs of his happy trail just above the waistband of his boxers.
“Princess… you’re playing with fire.”
You smirked at his gravelly voice. “No, I’m not. You already turned off the stove.”
He grunted when you straddled him. The position put your breasts at the same height as his mouth. Lloyd nuzzled their upper swells as you sank your finger into his hair, petting the short strands at the back of his neck.
Lloyd unbuttoned your dress shirt and examined your breasts.
“Still sore?”
“They’re definitely tender.”
He rubbed one and you hissed.
“Yeah, that’s going to sting for a while,” he said.
“It’s not a bad sore, just kind of… raw?”
“Well, I did promise you raw nipples, didn’t I?”
“And a sore ass.”
Lloyd glanced up through his lashes. “I’m glad you brought that up, Princess. It reminds me… I only delivered on half of my promise.”
“Huh?”
“I gave you instructions, and you disobeyed me. That warrants punishment, don’t you think?”
“Lloyd, I’ve never let anyone paddle my ass, and if you think-”
He moved too fast for you to protest, manhandling you so you lay chest down, spread over his thighs. Your breasts pressed against his leg and you moaned at the pressure on your aching nipples. Tension coiled in your belly as excitement heightened your sensitivity, making the raw flesh sting.
“Lloyd!”
“Scoot up. I suggest you cooperate because if I don’t spank you, I’m going to have to come up with another punishment. I have a few ideas…”
The butt plug and lube in his nightstand drawer flashed through your head. You scooted forward.
“Good girl, so obedient. I think you want to be punished, don’t you?”
You whimpered at his velvety voice. “Y-yes…”
Lloyd ran a calloused hand over the back of your thighs. “I’ve been thinking of smacking this pretty ass for a long time, Princess.”
That piqued your interest. “How long?”
“Too long,” he said, caressing your bottom.
“The first day you met me?”
“The second day. That pencil skirt, the one that goes past your knees? It’s blue and tight.”
You suddenly regretted donating that skirt last year during a closet declutter, even if it was a size too small.
“On the day you gave me your first research file, that’s what you wore. I still can’t forget how good your ass looked as you walked away. Last chance to back out, Princess.”
You squirmed, but didn’t object.
Lloyd grunted. “Princess, use your words.”
“I don’t think you have the guts to-”
His palm cracked on your left ass cheek. You gasped, stunned by the blow. He slapped the other side with the same force and you cried out. He pinched the fleshy part of your inner thighs between his thumb and forefinger, hard, eliciting a yelp.
“Don’t hold your breath. If you do, you’ll pass out,” Lloyd said.
Then his palm cracked against your skin. The sides alternated: left cheek, right, left, left, right…
“Lloyd!”
You surged up, only to have his forearm shoved into the small of your back, pinning you down.
“Arch your back, Princess. Keep your ass in the air, practice makes perfect.”
“Ow, Lloyd! That hurts!”
“It’s supposed to. You can’t follow instructions, then you pay the price, my naughty… little… fucktoy,” he hissed, punctuating the last three words with a smack.
Your back arched.
“Please! Fucking hell, Lloyd! Damn it, oh!”
You struggled to get enough leverage to escape, but he was too strong.
“Next time you’ll arch your back just like this, won’t you? You’ll be a good girl and keep your chest down and your ass up, huh?”
“Gaaahhh!” you screamed when he peppered a series of blows on a spot that was already aching.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…! Lloyd, please!”
He wasn’t holding back and despite the pain, his spanking was having the strangest effect on your body. It was turning you on. Your protests were born from shock and confusion, because you hadn’t expected this to hurt so much. The pain was the shocking part; the confusing part was that you hadn’t dreamed it would feel so good.
Yet, your toes were curling and your legs stiffened with each stinging swat. Every strike aroused you further. The harsher the sting of his hand, the sweeter the pleasure in your pussy. It was like the sting traveled through you, racing through nerves and transferring the heat of burning slaps on your skin to the inferno deep in your core. Your pussy was throbbing with a fire that was more intense than pain. Then his next blow triggered a cry that had nothing to do with discomfort.
Your thighs flexed and your toes curled as your shriek tapered off into a needy, hungry sound.
“Oh, fuck… Lloyd…”
You whimpered and rocked against his thigh, groaning at the overwhelming rush of pleasure, mingled with pain.
Lloyd cooed. “That’s my girl. Your pussy’s dripping down my leg.”
Your nipples tingled, still raw from their earlier treatment. You were panting and shivering, sweat trickling down your neck. He switched hands, and you squealed at the next barrage of unrelenting slaps. The line between what was pleasure and what was pain ceased to exist. You were acutely aware of the pulsating heat in your nipples and the hardness of Lloyd’s cock pressing against your belly.
The feelings his spanking elicited now were sharp and hot, causing your moans to drop into a lower register as you rocked back to meet each blow. Slowly, he eased into a gentler pace, delivering milder smacks.
Your chest was heaving as darkness danced on the edge of your vision.
“Breathe, Princess.”
You gasped.
“That’s it, good girl.”
His fingers brushed your sex, and you wailed, shuddering at the intensity of the sensation. Your back arched when he stroked your abused skin. The gentle caress made you keen.
Lloyd hauled you upright, turning you so your back pressed against his chest. Without his support you’d have slid to the floor. Your body buzzed with an urgent need and you mewled as he gently palmed your breasts.
You moaned, caught in the grip of a sensation somewhere between pain and immense pleasure.
“There, there, Princess. You’re okay. Next time, what are you going to do? Hmm?”
“Keep… my ass… up,” you sniffed, fighting back tears.
He rubbed the backs of his knuckles against the side of your breasts. “You’ll keep your ass up, and?”
“Chest down,” you whispered.
“That’s a good girl. We’ll try again when your nipples aren’t sore and you can show me what an obedient little fucktoy you are.”
You whined, thighs clenching. Tears were falling and your ass stung but you were so turned on that the pleasure was acutely uncomfortable. Lloyd’s hands drifted from your breasts to roam your body, tracing your waist, belly, and hips. He skimmed your thighs, tugging them apart until you spread them wide, giving him unrestricted access. His fingers dipped into your sex.
“Aw, fucking hell. That pussy’s drenched for me. I knew you’d like your spanking, naughty girls always do.”
He pinched your tender nipple, and you keened, tipping into a state of delirium. Your head fell back against his shoulder as your body went lax. Lloyd murmured something approving, but the words were lost in the buzz of euphoria that echoed in your ears. You couldn’t stop trembling.
Lloyd’s fingers breached your cunt, probing your g-spot.
“Yeah, gush all over my fingers. That’s my Princess, so fucking responsive. You’re spent, but this creamy little pussy just can’t get enough, can it? She’s throbbing. I bet it aches worse than your ass.”
He used his free hand to tease your clit, and you bucked, sobbing from the intense pleasure. You grasped his wrist to ease the friction and Lloyd snarled.
“Cut that out, or I’ll put you over my knee again.”
He spread your pussy open and stroked your entrance, collecting juices and swirling them over your clit.
“Come on my fingers, Princess.”
After issuing the command, he worked your clit hard. Within seconds you jackknifed from a lightning flash of pleasure that almost made you surge out of his arms. Lloyd nipped at your neck and the unexpected sensation made you shudder. His teeth sank into your skin as your body rolled with waves of ecstasy.
When you came down from the high, you felt the hardness under your thigh and squirmed. Lloyd allowed you to slide off his lap but caught your hips to steady you when your knees wobbled. After taking a second to get your bearings, you turned to face Lloyd, then sank to your knees between his legs.
Surprise flickered in his eyes but he lifted his hips, cooperating as you pulled down his boxers. The thick, ruddy cock sprang free, and you grasped it by the base, then licked at its weeping head. Lloyd groaned, shoving himself past your lips in a silent demand. You accepted him eagerly, wiggling your tongue against the underside of his cock.
“Yeah, just like that…”
He guided your head, showing you the tempo he preferred, then let go once you’d adopted the pace.
“Harder,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal.
You hollowed your cheeks and gripped him tighter. He hadn’t tried to push into your throat, which only made you more excited to perform the act. Relaxing your jaw, you inhaled through your nose and took him as deep as you could.
Lloyd gasped. His cock twitched in your throat, and you swallowed reflexively, moaning. When you couldn’t hold the position anymore, you pulled back, gagging. After another deep breath, you braced your hands on his thighs and repeated the maneuver. He was restrained, and that emboldened you to swallow harder, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. You kept your hands on his thighs out of caution, aware that his good behavior might end at any moment.
The self-protection didn’t prove necessary. Going down on Lloyd was fun. He wasn’t pushy, and he was vocal about his pleasure. The slurred praise he offered when you took him deep made you quiver with excitement. When your jaw needed a break, you ran your tongue over his balls, laving the swollen sac and basking in the rough, male noises that rewarded your efforts.
You chipped in surprise when Lloyd hauled you to your feet. He jerked you onto his lap, cupping your ass while he aligned your bodies. His thick erection grazed your clit. The sensation was so intense that you jerked away. Lloyd growled, hauling you back down.
“Come on, relax for me, Princess. I know you’re desperate to be filled.”
He was right. Sucking him off had triggered a fresh wave of arousal that had fire licking at your core. Lloyd captured one of your battered nipples in his mouth and sucked, purring when you trembled in response. He released it and caressed your hips, then stroked his palms over the tender skin of your buttocks.
“Ready, sweetheart?”
You pressed your forehead against his and whimpered as his cock probed the entrance to your pussy. “Yes… Please, fuck me.”
He thrust up hard, impaling you with a single stroke. You screamed and dug your nails into his shoulders.
“Ah, fuck! Lloyd!”
“Shh… relax. Let me in. I know, I know. This is a new angle for you, isn’t it?”
He felt huge like this. The girth was too intense and you scrambled to adjust, hooking your ankles over his knees and raising your hips. Lloyd kneaded your ass, causing a rush of pleasure and pain that flooded your pussy with juices and allowed you to sink down a little further.
You groaned, thighs quivering as you struggled to hold yourself up. You were afraid your legs would give out, and you’d be impaled again. Lloyd claimed your mouth and kissed you. HIs mouth was slow and sensual and coaxed you into relaxing. You rolled your hips and whimpered when he slid deep, brushing a spot that made you quiver. He grasped your hips and pushed them back, then drew them forward.
You gasped at the sensation.
Lloyd paused. “Too deep?”
“N-n-no… Oh, fuck…”
You squirmed and tried to mimic the maneuver. Lloyd moaned.
“Atta girl, baby. Get yourself off on my cock.”
Your hips snapped harder at his encouragement. When he sucked delicately on one of your nipples, you keened. You lost your rhythm, but it didn’t matter because Lloyd took control. He used your body’s weight to guide your hips in quick tempo, rooting himself as deep as possible with every stroke. Your legs shook violently and when the orgasm hit, you screamed, unraveling into sobs of overwhelmed pleasure.
Lloyd took advantage of the deep angle. The ripples of your channel seemed to aim his cock right at the sweet spot that made you quiver and turned your muscles to Jell-O. His thrusts became rougher and harder, and your pussy creamed. You cried, disoriented, helpless against the unrestrained response of your body. All you could do was hang on and shudder as your eyes rolled back in your head and Lloyd’s hands guided your hips through the last of the orgasm.
He hissed your name and his seed flooded your womb, triggering another orgasm that wracked your exhausted muscles. After the final burst of ecstasy, your head fell into the crook of Lloyd’s neck and he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Lloyd broke from his usual routine and silenced his alarm at 4 a.m.
He nestled against you, grateful that you were sleeping deeply, and therefore accepting of his intrusion into your side of the bed. When you were half-awake and still trying to cling to sleep you were very territorial about your personal space. He relished the victory of getting to hold you like this and pressed his forehead against the back of your neck. You slept soundly in these early hours, which sometimes allowed him to indulge in the affection he craved without disturbing you. Although he’d only intended to cuddle, he succumbed to sleep within minutes.
The buzzing of his phone woke him. Scowling at the time - it was just after six - he answered the unknown number.
“What do you want?”
“Hello, Lloyd.”
Lloyd’s nostrils flared. “Why are you calling me?”
“Is that how you greet an old friend?”
“We aren’t friends.”
“Fair point. Wait, don’t hang up. I have a new lead,” Court Gentry said.
Lloyd hesitated, his finger over the end call button.
“Go on.”
“The spy is trying to access files from B&H’s patent department. If they do, it’ll pose a threat to national security - a significant threat.”
“Then call Clayton Bishop, or the FBI - anyone but me,” Lloyd replied.
“Trust me, if I could, I would. You’re the only person I’m sure isn’t involved. The latest efforts to access the files prove this guy has hacking skills. He’s trying to exploit weaknesses in your cyber security and someone’s helping him. I know something is going down this week. I need your help.”
“No. I’m not a spy. Don’t call me again.”
Lloyd tossed the phone on the nightstand and sighed. The Chinese spy wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t even Court’s problem, but Gentry wasn’t the type to keep his nose out of other people’s business.
You murmured and rustled in the blankets, stealing the covers he’d loosened his grip on. Lloyd watched as you coiled yourself into a cocoon of blankets and wondered how you didn’t smother yourself by sleeping like that. His phone buzzed again. The sound made your lashes flutter and Lloyd rubbed your back. He was inordinately pleased when you settled immediately, your breathing evening out again.
Lloyd silenced the phone and checked his text messages.
There were three new messages, all from Jake. One had just arrived. The other two had come in around 5 a.m.
Hey. I need to upgrade the security on your guys laptops - work and personal. The stalker’s been trying to hack them. It’s mainly Princess’ work computer, but I want to cover all the bases just in case.
What time can I come over?
Lloyd? R u awake?
He responded, letting Jake know he could come over after eight, then went downstairs to make coffee.
Between the call from Court and Jake’s texts, the morning had gone sour. His anxiety was flaring back up and he was halfway through his first cup of coffee when it occurred to him that caffeine probably wasn’t the greatest idea right now. He poured the rest of his coffee down the sink and rubbed his jaw, wondering what problem to tackle first. There was the matter of telling you about Nguyen, reviewing your notes from the interview with Aliyah, catching up with Jake about the attacks on your laptops, and… Lloyd frowned.
The conversation with Court was still echoing in his head. Could the cyber attacks on your work computer have something to do with Nguyen? Did that fit the stalker’s profile? Aiden might be behind the latest attack. That would make sense… kind of.
Lloyd leaned against the counter, scowling, and wishing he hadn’t thrown the last of his coffee down the drain. Maybe Nguyen was the serial killer. Bishop still believed he was, and while Lloyd wasn’t keen on his boss’ blind faith in that theory, he suddenly wanted to take another look at Nguyen. His gut said that he’d missed something - something critical.
“Do I smell coffee?”
He turned to see you standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing his robe.
“Yeah, creamer’s in the fridge.”
Lloyd waited while you doctored your coffee and took a few sips. He’d figured out what he needed to say, but instead, he grabbed the files Landon had given him yesterday.
“Princess. We need to talk about your stalker.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You sat at the dining table, reading the files. Each one was labeled with a name: Georgina Rochester, Aiden LeDoux, Shun Nguyen, and finally, Juan Medina.
Picking up Juan’s file, you frowned.
“What’s this?”
Lloyd cleared his throat. “We investigated all potential suspects we could think of.”
“Really? Investigating Juan would’ve involved talking to me. That never happened.”
“Given the circumstances, I can’t expect you to be impartial.”
Your gaze sharpened. “I’ve known Juan for a decade.”
“Princess, you’re too close to him to see him as a threat, and you know it.”
“And maybe you’re too far removed to see that he’s harmless. Everything in here is technically true - Juan got into bar fights and took anger management classes - but there’s more to the story.”
“Then explain it.”
“Juan’s little brother just turned twenty-one. He’s always had a bad temper and alcohol exacerbates it. Juan’s tried to keep him out of trouble but-”
“There’s no arrest record for the brother,” Lloyd interrupted.
“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Juan is the complete opposite of his brother and he’d never do anything to harm his family.”
“He’s been charged with multiple misdemeanors.”
“Two nights in jail hardly makes him a hardened criminal.”
“Princess, you’re one of the most loyal people I know. You’d defend someone you love even if they were guilty.”
“Maybe I would, but the idea that Juan would hurt me is ridiculous. He’s not angry or dangerous.”
“We can’t afford to dismiss any leads,” Lloyd said.
“But this lead isn’t significant. You should’ve discussed this with me.”
“I didn’t want to put you in a position where you had to defend him.”
“The impression you get of Juan from this file is totally wrong and knowing the backstory changes everything. Letting me explain would’ve saved time and resources.”
“No, it wouldn’t have. We’re running down every lead in this case - especially after what happened two weeks ago. I’m not risking your safety on a blind spot.”
“You’re not listening to me. I know Juan and I trust him. I’m absolutely sure he isn’t the stalker.”
“I don’t even trust myself to be objective right now, Princess. Neither of us should try to unravel the stalker’s identity. If Juan made the suspect list, he’s on it until Landon decides he isn’t.”
“Then I need to talk to Landon because investigating Juan is a waste of time.”
“I’m sorry this makes you uncomfortable, but we should turn over every stone.”
“You’re being unreasonable on purpose, aren’t you?”
Lloyd’s expression softened. “I’m sorry I waited to tell you about this, but please, leave the investigating to Landon. He’ll figure it out. If Juan is as squeaky clean as you think, it won’t take long.”
You sighed, rubbing your neck. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fly off the handle. I’m just…”
Suddenly, you were on the verge of tears. Your voice cracked when you tried to speak and you buried your face in your hands.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
Lloyd stood up and moved around the table. His arms wrapped around you as he let you bury your head in his chest.
“I’m here, Princess. Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this and things will go back to normal. You’re safe.”
“How can I be safe if Nguyen is in the country?”
Lloyd squeezed you. “I won’t let you out of my sight. Also, Jake’s coming over to update the security systems on the house and our computers. We’re taking every precaution and then some, okay?”
You pulled back and looked up at him, lips compressing in a grimace.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about something… Vivian has an appointment with her obstetrician. She asked me if I could watch the kids this afternoon.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Lloyd said.
“I agree, but she needs my help. If you came with me, you could search for evidence on Juan. Think of how much time that would save Landon. Can we take evasive measures and sneak over, or is it totally out of the question?”
He hesitated. “It might not be safe.”
“The last thing I want to do is put Vivian’s family at risk, but if there’s a way to make it happen…”
“Have you discussed this with Vivian?” Lloyd asked.
“I can talk to her.”
“Explain the situation and if she’s okay with it, I’ll figure something out. Just don’t say anything about Juan, please.”
You kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Lloyd sat at Juan Medina’s desk in the upstairs master bedroom, preoccupied with Juan’s laptop. He kept an ear out for sounds that would warn him of an approaching toddler or the jangle of tags from the family dog, Chewy. The tan and white Cavalier King Charles spaniel had taken an instant dislike to Lloyd at first sniff, which he considered to be very insightful on the canine’s part.
The house was fairly quiet. The only sounds from downstairs were of you cleaning. He could hear the rumble of the washing machine, along with the frequent buzz of the dryer and the dishwasher. Your efficiency was unrivaled. He’d listened to the sound of you tackling a mountain of household chores while keeping the smaller toddler - the boy, Sam - occupied. Meanwhile, the three-year-old, Alyssa, had escaped to the backyard. From the window over the desk, he could see her playing in the yard.
His thorough search of Juan Medina’s laptop had yielded nothing of value. The man’s internet search history was full of hockey, nerdy online card games, and researching which fantasy novels he wanted to buy next. Judging by the bookcase, your brother-in-law’s primary hobby was reading. His offline commitments included a weekly Dungeons & Dragons meetup at the library, helping his mother with yard work, and taking the kids on monthly field trips with a local father’s group. Juan was probably pretty normal by regular standards, but to Lloyd he was the most boring person on earth. He was also envious of the man and that drove him nuts because he couldn’t pin down a reason why he felt that way.
Lloyd brushed off the feeling and closed Juan’s laptop.
Downstairs, the transformation in the family room startled him. The clutter of kid’s toys, piles of books, jackets, blankets, and empty drinking glasses had vanished. He barely recognized the room. In the kitchen, the countertops gleamed. You’d swept and mopped the floor and conquered the overflowing pile of dishes. The family room, the kitchen, the living room, it was all spotless. Even the sliding glass doors that had been covered in Chewy’s nose prints was now clean.
He noticed the basket of folded laundry by the couch and shook his head. How had you managed all this in just a few hours?
Lloyd walked out onto the deck where Sam was playing with a toy tractor. The little boy was so absorbed in his own world that he didn’t spare the man a glance when he walked by. Lloyd headed down the steps to the yard and headed to where you were crouched in the middle of the yard, looking frustrated.
“What are you doing?” Lloyd asked.
“I’m trying to fix this sprinkler head. Juan left Vivian a note to have Dad take a look, so I read a how-to article, which made it seem easy enough. I think I was lied to.”
Lloyd squatted down. “What step are you on?”
“Taking off the sprinkler head. I’m afraid if I use any more force it’ll break.”
“Do you have a screwdriver with a longer handle? You need more torque.”
You gestured to the tool box beside you. “Take your pick.”
He found the right tool and loosened the troublesome screw. Once it was free, you took over.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it.”
After knowing you for three years, he recognized the look on your face and easily handed over the sprinkler head. It was better to just get out of the way when you were on a mission. Besides, he wasn’t about to get grass stains on his freshly dry cleaned Tom Ford chinos if it wasn’t necessary. He scanned the yard, taking in Sam playing on the deck and then turning to the rock pile where Alyssa seemed to be digging a hole to China.
“What’s your niece doing?” Lloyd asked.
“Digging up rocks. Don’t ask me why, because there’s a perfectly good sandbox on top of the hill. She’s always in that rock pile.”
He left you to the sprinkler repairs and headed toward the rock pile. When he saw who was approaching, Chewy, the cocker spaniel, positioned himself between Alyssa and Lloyd. He gave the suspicious dog plenty of space and crouched down on the other side of the rock pile, leaving a large space between them to appease the dog.
“Hey, Alyssa.”
The three-year-old glanced at him, then stabbed her yellow plastic shovel into the dirt. There was a pile of stones next to her right foot. Lloyd watched as she sorted them, examining each before keeping it or tossing it back into the pit. He spotted one he recognized in front of him and picked it up.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked Alyssa.
She stopped digging and examined the rock he held out for a moment before shaking her head.
“See how smooth it is?” Lloyd scraped his thumb over the surface. “When you can scratch a rock with just your fingernail, that means it’s soft. The color and shape are also big clues.”
The little girl looked at him expectantly.
“It’s slate,” Lloyd said.
She held her hand out, and Lloyd dropped it into her palm. He watched as she searched her red bucket and then handed him two more rocks. Lloyd examined them.
“Yeah, these are slate, too.”
Alyssa dug into the bucket again. She paused, as if something had just occurred to her, and extended her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. He passed back the two pieces of slate she’d given him, and the one he’d picked up. She placed them carefully into the red bucket before offering him another rock.
Lloyd studied the specimen, hiding his grin. When he realized what she’d handed him he raised an eyebrow.
“This is agate. Sometimes people make jewelry out of these.”
Alyssa continued to pass him different rocks, though she only allowed him to handle one at a time. She was like a strict librarian who only allowed single book check outs and enforced the return policy with the zeal of a Mutaween. He identified limestone, quartzite, agates, and several pieces of granite for her.
“Which ones are your favorite?” Lloyd asked.
She reached under a dense fern and pulled out an old Folgers coffee container. It surprised him when she took off the lid and handed it over. Lloyd inspected the contents. There was a chip of Mica, easily identifiable by its flakey structure and pearlescent shine. Several of the greenish rocks looked like Sandstone, though one of them had the striations characteristic of Gneiss. Looking at the collection, he realized that Alyssa’s criteria for special rocks focused on color and shininess. At the bottom there was a gray rock with a dusting that looked like blue powder.
He rubbed it with his thumb and inspected it in the light. Chrysocolla or Amazonite?
“This is an impressive collection,” he said.
Alyssa reached under the fern and dug around, searching for something and brushed it off before passing it to him. At first he thought it was just a piece of limestone, but when he flipped it over, there was a clear impression on the other side.
“Wow. This is a cool fossil.”
It looked like a prehistoric crustacean, with lots of ridges and segments in the stone that showed the shape and structure of the animal’s body.
“Is this why you’re digging over here?” Lloyd asked.
The plastic yellow shovel she was using made sense, considering the fossil. He handed it back and watched as she packed the rocks into the Folgers container.
“Why don’t you pick a few rocks to take inside? You could display them on your windowsill or something,” Lloyd said.
Her lips pursed as she considered him, then glanced over her shoulder at you. Lloyd followed her gaze to where you were filling in the hole around the sprinkler head.
“Hey, Princess. Have you seen the fossil Alyssa found?”
At his announcement, Alyssa hissed, shoving the red plastic container underneath the fern. She glared furiously at Lloyd and grabbed the spaniel’s collar. He watched as she stalked across the yard to the deck, dragging Chewy along with her. Lloyd realized he’d committed a betrayal of great magnitude but wasn’t sure how.
When you’d finished with the sprinkler system, he asked.
“Why is Alyssa so protective of her rocks?”
“What rocks?”
“She collects rocks. She’s got a good eye for it too, but I guess she doesn’t like sharing them.”
“Oh, you mean the rocks she smuggles into her bedroom? We try to keep them in the yard because she stashes them in her bookcase and it gets all muddy. Vivian tosses them back in the rock pile when she finds them.”
“That must be frustrating,” Lloyd said.
“Yeah, Vivian can hardly keep up with it.”
“No, I mean that she’s finding interesting stuff. You should have them tumbled. One of her rocks is probably Amazonite or Chrysocolla and she has a really cool fossil, too.���
You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. She knows what she’s looking for. I think it’s the colors in the rocks that attracts her attention. Blues and reds seem to be her favorite. Does she have any books on rocks?”
“No, she can’t read yet.”
“They have picture books,” Lloyd said.
“Huh. That’d be a great Christmas gift. Do you think I should re-seed the lawn?”
“What?”
“It might be too early, and I don’t know if Juan is planning on aerating,” you mused.
“You already did the dishes, the laundry, cleaned the house, and fixed the sprinklers.”
“Oh, crap! I forgot about the dryer. Sam! Come inside, it’s getting late!”
Sam launched a valiant protest when you tried to herd him inside. You tended to the toddler’s outburst while Lloyd went to find Alyssa. She was upstairs in her room. Chewy was curled into a ball on her bed and when he saw Lloyd, the fluffy spaniel growled. Lloyd stopped short, respecting the warning, and leaned against the doorjamb.
“If you pick out some rocks from your bookcase, I’ll help you polish them,” Lloyd offered.
Thirty minutes later you walked into the kitchen to find Alyssa standing on a stool next to Lloyd at the sink. A paper towel full of wet rocks sat next to a pile of used sandpaper.
“What are you two up to?” you asked.
“We’re polishing Alyssa’s rocks. Look at this one, it’s a carnelian.”
You examined the bright red stone and smiled at your niece.
“That’s beautiful.”
She looked down, shrugging, but smiled. Lloyd picked up another one.
“This is a blue lace agate.”
After he showed it to you, he handed it back to Alyssa, who snuck it into her pocket instead of laying it on the paper towel.
“Did you find these in the backyard?” you asked her.
She didn’t respond, so Lloyd answered for her.
“I think she might have, but I’m not sure. There’s enough variety here that I think she collected some of them from other places.”
“You should put them on display in your room. Your Mom will be home soon and she’d like to see them - especially now that they’re clean.”
Alyssa beamed. “Mine.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The quiet hum of the Mercedes’ engine filled the car as you drove west towards the cabin. Lloyd glanced over and you sensed his scrutiny.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you said, breaking the silence. “Is something on your mind?”
He turned his attention back to the road, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Tonight, at your sister’s place…”
“You really hit it off with Alyssa. I was impressed.”
“She’s a sweet kid, but I was actually wondering about all the housework. You did everything from the laundry to fixing the sprinklers. If your sister had hired a whole cleaning crew, they wouldn’t have done as much as you did.”
You sighed. “Vivian is juggling a lot right now. I was just lending a hand.”
“It’s not just tonight, though. You’ve always helped her out, even before, when you were in college. I’ve never seen her do the same for you, especially not to this extent.”
“She’s my sister, and she needed help. Besides, you never complain when I do things for you.”
“I pay you to help me,” Lloyd pointed out. “She didn’t even say thank you.”
You chuckled. “That’s just what having a sister is like.”
“Well, from my perspective, it seems like she’s taking advantage of you.”
“Lloyd, I can’t explain this to you.”
“What’s to explain?” he growled.
“I’m the oldest, it’s different. You wouldn’t understand, you’re an only child.”
Silence fell and again, the gentle hum of the engine filled the car.
“Actually, I’m not.”
“What?” you stared at him.
“I have two younger sisters.”
“You never mentioned… Lloyd, I didn’t realize… the articles about you never said...”
“I haven’t seen them in thirty years.”
“Why?”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. You watched his shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath.
“My mother left when I was eleven. She took my sisters, but left me.”
“She abandoned you…? And left you with your father?”
“Yeah.”
“Lloyd, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“Did you ever reach out to them?”
“No.”
You frowned. “Why not?”
“I wasn’t even sure they were alive until recently. I doubt they’d want to hear from me. They’ve built lives of their own. What would contacting them do except stir up bad memories? If they can forget… that would be better.”
Better for who? You held back the question, unsure if he was ready to answer it.
Lloyd sighed. “I don’t know if they’d want to see me and talking about them isn’t easy. That’s why I’ve never mentioned them before.”
His face was stony but there was a quiet ache in his voice that hinted at the hurt hidden behind the composed mask.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For assuming. For not asking you about your family.”
He shrugged. “Who could blame you? Sharing isn’t exactly in my nature.”
You turned away, gazing out the window. You tried to imagine having your siblings ripped away but couldn’t manage it. What was wrong with Lloyd’s mother? How could she have done such a terrible thing? There were reasons, of course - desperation, fear, psychosis. None of those answers softened the anger you felt toward the faceless woman who’d snatched Lloyd’s siblings. Why would she leave him behind, sentencing him to live with the man she’d chosen to flee?
“You’re wondering why she took them and left me, aren’t you?” Lloyd asked.
“I can’t imagine what kind of a mother would do something like that. It’s awful.”
“She was crazy. That’s a solid reason, but if you ask me, it’s because I looked like him.”
You were confused. “Him?”
“My father.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The cabin’s porch light glowed in a cozy welcome as Lloyd turned into the driveway. You pretended to look out the window to hide the tears in your eyes.
Lloyd’s childhood couldn’t have been easy. You’d known that already, but what he’d revealed tonight was crueler than your imaginings. He parked and shut off the engine, silencing the quiet hum.
The shrill scream of his phone pierced the quiet, making you jump. He frowned at the caller I.D.
“It’s Roth.”
You watched as he answered and lines of concern creased his face. The words on the other end of the line were muffled but the furrow between Lloyd’s brows suggested the news wasn’t good. He listened for a long time before he spoke.
“Alright. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“What’s going on?”
“There’s been a disappearance. Another woman was abducted in Harmony.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Next - Chapter XXIII
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Masterlist
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Taglist:
@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-doctor-help @jesevans @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida @mysweetlittledesire @liecastillo @marantha @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @yiiiikesmish @calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @andydrysdalerogers @mrsbarnes32557038
#the princess and the lawyer#the princess & the lawyer#series: the princess and the lawyer#lloyd hansen fanfic#lloyd hansen fanfiction#lloyd hansen au#lloyd hansen fic#lloyd x princess#lloyd hansen x you#lloyd hansen x y/n#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen x female reader#lloyd hansen x fem!reader#lloyd hansen smut#minors dni#no minors#chris evans characters fanfic#chris evans character au#chris evans character x reader
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big big marvey fic rec list
marvey is currently my most bookmarked ship, so trust me when i say i've been around the bend for marvey content. i have dug through a lot of it the past few months, so trust that these fics have been highly rated!
fics are loosely grouped, with the summary and my thoughts under the cut :3 no spoilers ofc bc i love you
MY PERSONAL FAVOURITES
A Specter-Ross Affair by @frivoloussuits (15k+, au)
“You ordered an ‘extra-hot, extra-wet cappuccino, single-origin, properly layered, to-go and ready five minutes ago to make up for your service speed or lack thereof.’”
In which Mike is a barista, Rachel is a lawyer, and Harvey is paid excessive amounts of money to plan their joyous Christmas wedding.
"Love is just a particularly socially accepted form of fraud. It's a series of increasingly complex and fragile deceptions between two or more people, and, more alarmingly, between each participant and their own deluded subconscious."
i literally cannot recommend this fic enough. this might be my favourite read of the entire year, dead serious. this sounds fluffy but trust me, the pining and the angst go well like salt on a chocolate chip cookie: extremely decadent. everything about this fic goes insane and this should be your gateway drug into marvey, im so serious about this. READ IT. (weddingplanner!harvey)
of all the gin joints by @frivoloussuits (10k+, au)
Hanging around a neighborhood bar one night, Harvey befriends a guy named Mike after realizing they can both quote The Princess Bride on demand.
In the law offices of Rand, Kaldor, Zane and Pearson, senior partner Harvey Specter takes on an unusual case, representing his managing partner's daughter as she divorces a Michael James Ross.
Harvey sees no connection until it's far too late.
"They’re playing a virtuosic duet with inhuman ease, as if the intoxication has broken their boundaries and blurred them into a single entity."
this. obsessed with fics that really use the law in their plots, and this is a prime example. a lot of chemistry in this one that is described in a way that makes you jealous of the bond they share and there are still lines in this fic that i think about almost everyday but honestly, such a top-tier read. PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU LIKE SUFFERING ANF REALLY REALLY GOOD CHEMISTRY PLEASE
5U175 by Closer (26k, canon-adjacent)
Harvey sometimes moonlights as a Star Trek BNF. Mike might have an attitude problem on the internet. TiberiusGhost is strangely compelling, for a recluse who never goes to meetups, and Harvey's finding this kid Photohead vaguely familiar…
i know that the terminology in this one is hella old-school but trust me. as someone who doesnt read a lot of fandom fics, this fic has changed it all for me (also bc the author replied to my comment hehehe) stick with this fic because the way fandom weaves with the character development is absolutely delicious, i remember saying this in my og comment but this fic was written with love for fandom and you should definitely read it too!!! you'd absolutely love it! (also ben stans rise up ^^)
fics to sink your teeth into (20k+)
needs must by @melthemagpie (98k+, au)
When Grammy needs an upgrade in care, Mike knows that the usual one-off gig as a paid submissive won't be enough. He takes a job he's been refusing for a while - a long-term, full-time contract.
He expects his client to be a sadistic asshole. He expects not to like it. He's wrong on both counts.
this is a fandom classic, every fic rec has this on the list (cw for dom/sub and prostitution, so if you're uncomfy please dont read) but i swear there are so many romantic moments in this one that make me swoon and the smut is very good, i usually tap out in long fics really quickly but this hooked me the whole way through twice. thats my ringing endorsement, READ THIS
Lobster and Other Catastrophes by @andthetardis (21k, canon-compliant)
After months of silence, Mike starts texting Harvey again out of the blue.
Funny thing to do on his honeymoon, really.
BRO PLEASE. this was so good. angsty and pining-y enough even though it's mostly a text fic. text fics to me are more like comedic, but this one had substance and heart (and funny and enjoyable btw). pulls you in and really makes you want to stick it out and get to the beautiful ending <333 (harvey being soft is probably a category on its own :3)
The Game by @frivoloussuits (27k, hunger games au)
Harvey Specter and Donna Paulsen are efficient and elegant killers. They have trained since childhood, mentored personally by Jessica Pearson and marked for years as District 1's Tributes for the Hunger Games.
Mike Ross is an orphan from District 12, a drug dealer, and an underage gambler. After years of scrutinizing the Hunger Games on TV to make savvy bets, he finds himself on the wrong side of the camera, now playing the odds just to survive.
Harvey and Mike cannot, should not trust each other. Still, they strike a backroom deal.
"Because he’s clever and quick-thinking and he’s learned her main lesson well– don’t love anyone you wouldn’t be willing to see dead. Ideally, don’t love anyone at all."
I READ THIS WHEN I WAS REVISITING HUNGER GAMES AND OHHHHH THIS HAS THE ANGST. absolutely riveting. ths is the third fic im reccing from them bc i love frivoloussuits. i would die for them HHFSHFHKSDGDHFG i love the angst and the life-threatening situations that the hunger games provide and harvey as a career is correct. its just correct. everything here grips my soul
Disaster Stories by agatestones (22k, canon-compliant)
"Hold on," Mike asked, "you made Donna come into work in the middle of a blizzard?"
"I don't make Donna do anything. Haven't you learned by now?" Harvey gave Mike a mean little smile, but under that was relief for anyone to see. "You, I can make come into the office in a blizzard."
reads like a novella to me, and it's really good!!! very episodic and you really feel like these are things that have happened in universe. its very slice of lifey and i reread it a lot as a comfort read, its like a big hug to me
Pizza and a Movie by Closer (30k+, au)
In an alternate universe, Harvey's still a lawyer but Mike's not a pot runner -- he's a deliveryman for Rollo's Pizza and Ribs, which happens to be Harvey's favorite pizza place. Once Harvey finds out his pizza guy is a genius, Mike's life takes a few turns he would not have expected...
i swear this is the most rom-commy fic marvey has to offer. i like aus that slap me in the face more with the alternate universe, but this is such a rom-com plot. fandom classic as well and it really reads like a hugh grant 90s movie and if thats not enough to pull you in idk what will tbh
Imprimatur by Closer (22k, au)
Mike was raised to believe Imprint was a life-changing event for those few lucky enough to experience it. Harvey was raised to believe it was a form of mental illness. When it actually happened, neither of them noticed.
this goes absolutely crazy. one of those fics where you read it and you almost want to throw your phone at the wall because the characters could make it so easy if they werent so stupid (but in a good way of course) but the way it was written, you feel the depth of the soulmate bond and why its so important (which a lot of soulmate aus forget to do loll) but goes down like an expensive and delicious dinner :)
afternoon reads (10k+)
Sony SRF-39FP by @frivoloussuits (11k+, canon-adjacent)
Anita Gibbs won’t settle for Mike, not when there are name partners within her reach. She offers only one deal– two years, no other charges against anyone else in the firm, as long as Harvey Specter turns himself in. And even as Donna and Jessica and Louis and Mike beg him not to, he jumps on the grenade.
“Time to get busy living or get busy dying,” he remarks, and Mike gives a small chuckle. Then Harvey smirks, straightens his suit jacket, and strides into FCI Danbury.
“I can’t believe they’re trying to lock you in a box and forget about you,” Mike sighs as he leaves.
“Well, as long as you don’t forget me, I figure I’ll survive.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but forgetting’s never been my strong suit.
cw for depersonalization and desc of solitary confinement, very very heavy but the way mike is there throughout everything makes my heart twinge. i really dont know how to describe this fic at all but its really good. it makes me cry a lot. also made me start listening to jazz which- uh
Here at the end of all things by @tattooedsiren (10k, au)
When he arrives at the Pearson Hardman building the lights are dimmed and the floor is deserted. His feet carry him to Harvey's office even though he expects it to be empty. Because Harvey probably fled the city via helicopter or teleporter or sheer force of will. But when he approaches the office he can see that Harvey is there. He has moved the couch so that it now faces the floor to ceiling windows and Mike silently sits beside Harvey, joins him in looking down at the chaos engulfing the city below. [Apocalypse AU]
I LOVE APOCALYPSE FICS UP UP UP badass!harvey makes me bark, but im a really big fan of people who find happiness in the worst circumstances and this fic does it so so so well. reminds me a lot of tlou episode like 2? the one with the strawberries. please this is what i revisit when i miss marvey and i dont have a lot of time because the world and the characters are jsut so delicious!!!
quick reads (1k+)
This Love is Silent by kim47 (8k, canon-compliant)
She should have known.
She had known, that something was off, at least. She knew he was hiding something. She just never imagined it could be this.
Despite Harvey's warnings, Mike tells Rachel the truth about everything. She's shocked, naturally, and more than a little angry, but she agrees to keep his secret, and even to date him.
So when they break up, Harvey goes into damage-control mode.
RACHEL!! HELLO RACHEL!! im always up for smart and discerning rachel (this shows up in of all the gin joints too btw!!!) this runs realistic to me because it shows that rachelxmike arent some hopelessly wrong for each other couple, they have good and bad times. this feels more real to me than other fics bc its not like the world conspires for marvey to be apart, its just life. i know this makes it sound so sad, and it is, but trust me: this is really really really good i love this so much
an archive of harvey specter's expressions by @frivoloussuits (2k, canon-compliant)
Five old expressions that Mike rediscovers in new contexts once he and Harvey are (finally) together, and one that he sees for the first time.
Alternatively titled “An Ode to Gabriel Macht’s Face.”
this was written for me. this is literally me. writing fic because gabriel macht is too pretty, like this fic is literally for me. a lot of peering at him to get this fic as masterfully written as it is, and i thank you author everyday for it. to me, this reads like it's been written with love and care and true adoration (Truly, like Mike)
Coffee-Cart Client Privilege by @frivoloussuits (7k, au)
Mike runs a coffee cart. The coffee cart.
"Why not? They're too big and dense to be a snack." So are you, Mike thinks, and yet.
IM SORRY I KEEP RECCING FRIVOLOUS SUITS THEYRE MY FAVOURITE WRITER IN THIS FANDOM HFBKABFDKHFBHKDSA this has the hand-wavy logic the show has itself but mike's internal monologue in this one is one of the best ive ever read and the way mike's integrated in the offices is just so well-done ahhhh
Objection by yeah its frivoloussuits again i feel bad tagging them like 7 times (2k, canon-adjacent)
When Mike announces he’s leaving, Harvey plans to hide the jagged pieces of his broken heart deep inside, where no one will ever find them.
His heart would like to object.
BIGG fan of physical hurt/comfort!!!! also big fan of people absolutely freaking out in the hospital in fics, it makes me bounce of the wall!! very short but the angst and love really hits you quick and leaves you on the floor gasping for air. very good (also cant prove this but im very sure this is a scrubs reference.t hanks)
Excerpts From The Gospel of Harvey Specter, edited by Michael "Forever Awesome" Ross, 2011, 1st Ed, by @rcmclachlan (7k, canon compliant)
Mike can totally read people. Well, most people. Some people. Or maybe just Harvey, who's pretty much an open book.
this one's really funny! it doesent follow direct prose and instead plays a lot with the setting its in (where mike's a documenter of harvey) and its just so funny and adorable. has a lot of heart too, it isn't just crack or anything but you really feel everything mike does as he writes all this, read this!!1
One More Sleepless Night by @sal_si_puedes (9k, au)
Soul Bonds are one-sided – there’s usually mutual affection, but only one party feels the crippling need to be together as often as possible. If separated at length from their love, that party becomes crushed by longing, panic, and sheer hopelessness, and so it is illegal to forcibly keep Soulmates apart.
Some days, Harvey Specter hates the Bond that skews his judgement and weakens his resolve, and he fears what would happen if anyone in his world ever discovers he is so compromised. He certainly never planned to disclose the Bond for the first time in the middle of Anita Gibbs’ office, in a last-ditch attempt to invalidate the deal sending Mike to prison.
HSDGFHSDKGHRLKGHK THIS FIC. i love fics that use more than just prose to tell their stories (see above fic) and this does my favourite thing that soulmate aus do, which is where they integrate in-universe explanations for the phenomenon. the amount of work and dedication put into this fic makes it absolutely sing and was absolutely lovely!!
also pspspsps
golden like the daffodils by @mini-mart (2k, canon-compliant)
Poetry holds meaning, for anyone who reads it. It obscures and dances around the literal and metaphorical, because it’s imbued with so much of something that it overflows out of any definition. It can make someone mad, or lovesick, or aroused, and the reactions would be absolutely warranted.
Mike is poetry, to Harvey.
-
Harvey Specter could be a good politician, as he believes in pragmatism over poetry. He won't let his progress fall apart, won't let someone knock it down.
And then someone unceremoniously cracks open a suitcase at his feet.
Or: Harvey, pretty boys and poetry.
yeah yeah i wrote this yeah yeah self promo smth smth
there's a lot more that isn't here but i'll probably write a new one when i go for a deep dive through the ship tags again :3
^^ ao3 etiqutte applies! if you like the fic, kudos and comment and bookmark!! show your love! happy reading marveys! my gift to u :3
#marvey#suits tv#suits#mike ross#harvey specter#marvey fic recs#marvey fic#ao3#fic rec list#fic recs#tbr#fanfiction#103#GUYS PLEASE READ THIS#mikexharvey
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[[and then I met you || ch. 3]]
Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit
Summary:
A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.
pt: 1 | 2 |
words: 9.1k
You change aspects of your outfit about seven times before you finally settle on something you deem acceptable.
You know the meeting isn't about you, but you can't help but want to dress nicely. But not too nicely that this will no longer be a casual lunch. You choose one of your nicer t-shirts with your nice jeans and try to be fancy by doing a French tuck, but kind of ruin the vibe by pairing it all with your walking sneakers. Minnie picked them out and they are obnoxiously neon orange, but they are incredibly comfortable and supportive. It's warm out, so you do something with your hair that is simple and won't get in the way.
You even dabble in some make-up. Nothing fancy but enough that you no longer look a little too tired.
Minnie, of course, is perceptive to your nerves and also wants to Dress Up. This, of course, means her Princess dress and you want her in a good mood, so you turn your daughter into a giant pink and yellow cupcake. She is absolutely thrilled to be able to wear it out so getting all packed up and ready to go goes smoothly. You debate telling her that you are going to meet someone but ultimately decide against it. She's already picked up on how nervous you are. If you tell her she will be meeting a new person, she might start getting upset and you aren't going to chance ruining her mood. So you bundle her into her stroller and start towards the diner at a quarter 'til eleven.
You want to get there early and get all settled before Matt arrives - maybe get a few doodles in on the sketchbook you've packed so Minnie is nice and distracted. It is a pretty day out and you take your time as you walk, not wanting to get all sweaty after dressing up.
It is a route you've taken many times before, so you let your mind wander as you stroll.
You had needed a full day to process that you had found Minnie's father and he wanted to be in both of your lives. It recontextualized so much. You had spent your entire evening reading 'how to co-parent' articles and making lists - you now had about three pages filled with your daughter's likes and dislikes, contact information for anyone Matt might need to reach out to, and multiple different schedules. Your plan is to make him a huge binder, filled with whatever he might need to know.
You don't know if you are going overboard or not but this is how you are dealing with everything.
You don't exactly have anyone you can reach out to to talk with. You aren't close enough with anyone who you would feel comfortable opening up to about Matt. You know you should probably find a therapist but there is no way you can afford one.
To be fair, you aren't even sure how you feel about everything. You put your emotions aside to deal with all the practical changes and to focus on your daughter's well-being. Despite all your anxieties, everything has been going as well as you think it should go. You've only had two conversations, but you are hoping the trend continues. You desperately want Minnie to smothered with people who adore her because you never had that and you pray Matt wants the same.
As you cross into Hell's Kitchen, your heart starts beating a little harder in your chest. You can't fight your nerves, so you try to channel them into something productive.
"Do you know where we're going, Mouse?" You ask as you wait at a corner.
"Chicky waffles!" is the excited response, making you chuckle.
"Exactly, we're gonna go have some chicky waffles," you say with a little smile. Chicken and waffles is a featured menu item at the diner and for some reason considered your daughter's Celebration Meal. "And if you aren't too sleepy afterwards, we can do something fun."
Minnie gives an excited wiggle in her stroller, "I wanna see the duckies!"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay, we can go see the duckies after lunch." You are hoping the promise of something she wants to do will come with the desire to behave, even if she starts to get fussy. You know you can't stop a tantrum if meeting Matt does truly upset her, but you can try your best to deter them.
You are being overly precautious. You know you are, but you couldn't turn your mind off if you tried.
You've long accepted your fate and just try to navigate your anxiety the best you can.
As Minnie lists off what she's named all the ducks, you debate coming up with some talking points for her and Matt. You doubt they have similar interests, though you know that doesn't mean much - as you don't have similar interests as your daughter - but animals and food are easy discussions. You worry when it comes to art, things may get a little harder.
You have no idea how to explain blindness to Minnie. You are really hoping that Matt has that experience and can help her understand. After all, you don't actually know how much he can see. You know he needs Braille - his flirting at the holiday party all those years ago had been to ask you to read the drink menu to him - and uses a cane, but that doesn't mean he can't see shapes and such. You definitely do not want to speak for him about his abilities.
Maybe afterwards you can look up some videos to help Minnie understand better. There's a plethora of resources online, you just need to know what to look for - a jumping off point. Blind parents with Seeing children are not a new thing and you bet you can find a bunch of tactile art projects beyond folding paper that would suit Minnie's age.
The diner comes into view and you sigh in relief over the lack of a crowd. Maybe the Fates had smiled on you and everyone else would find somewhere else to have lunch. There is no one standing around outside, so you use the space to take Minnie out of her stroller. Instantly she tries to help you unpack, dragging her backpack out of the little storage area under the seat. You grab your purse and a collapsible booster seat, then start to fold up the stroller while she patiently waits.
She's still too small to pull open the heavy glass door of the diner, but that doesn't stop her from trying. She tugs on it twice before you are able to help her. She beams up at you and you return your little girl's smile as you enter the diner.
"Oh, well don't you look special," the waitress, Linda, says as she comes around the counter with some menus. You are convinced she must live above the diner because she is always there - but it also means Minnie is comfortable with her, so your daughter does a little twirl to show off her dress.
"We're gonna see the ducks!"
"I see," Linda coos, "Well in that case, you're going to need a nice lunch to fill you up. Lemme see now, it looks like your booth is all open, so why don't we get you all settled in?"
Minnie takes off across the diner to the booth while you lean the stroller in the corner where you've been told you can store it. Once that is done, you head over to the booth.
Linda places a menu where you will be sitting and as you slide into the seat next to Minnie, you ask for an additional menu in Braille. She looks a little surprised at the request, but doesn't question it and the menu is quickly placed across from you.
Minnie doesn't pay attention to the second menu at all, focused on pulling out her crayons and paper. She knows as long as she doesn't make a mess she's allowed to play on the table here and she doesn't waste any time getting right to it.
"What do you want to drink, sweet pea?" Linda asks.
"Lemonade, please, thank you!" Minnie answers like a little princess. Linda smiles at the response and asks the same to you, without the term of endearment.
"An iced tea, please," you reply. You wait until she turns to go back behind the counter to pop open the booster seat. You set it on the seat beside Minnie and she carefully climbs into it before going back to laying out her crayons.
"Do you want chicky waffles?" You ask Minnie. She shakes her head, ignoring you in favor of starting to scribble. You wait a few moments, giving her a chance to think and reply but that doesn't happen. You say her name, then repeat the question.
"No, I want grilled cheese," she says, looking up, "with fruit. Please. Thank you."
"With fruit?" You confirm, a little amused at the declaration. She nods and goes back to her work.
You refuse to check the time. You know as soon as you do you'll spiral into an anxiety attack, so instead, you drag the menu over to you and start reading it over. You don't really know what you want - your stomach is more nerves than hunger.
Linda drops off your drinks with a little smile, "I'll be back for your orders."
"Thank you," both you and Minnie say.
You fall into a silence, half looking over the menu and half watching Minnie drag her crayon over the page. She's got the yellow one in her little fist and you wonder what could be going on in that head of hers. You hope her thoughts are good ones - all about ducks and cupcakes and magical things and no worries exist.
The bell above the door to the diner chimes after about two minutes and you look up as Matt walks in. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart pounds hard.
There is no argument about whether or not Matt is physically attractive - he's gorgeous and could easily be a model if he wanted to be - but you can tell that Effort was put in that morning.
His scruff is trimmed down to a neat five o'clock shadow and his hair is a little fluffy like he's run his hand through it a few times. He's sporting a leather jacket, black tee shirt, slacks, and wing tips - he looks casual but cool. He's so incredibly handsome and for a moment you question if you're right about him being Minnie's father.
There is no way this man took you to bed. You think you're pass-ibly attractive, but he's on a whole other level of hot.
You are so busy ogling him it doesn't register right away you need to alert him to your whereabouts. Linda makes a bee line right for him, exchanging words you can't hear. She turns to look at you, one brow raising up in question. In response, you raise your hand in acknowledgement. She nods then leads Matt over to your booth. You finally notice he is holding a pink medium sized gift bag and you can't help but wonder what is inside.
He stops at the edge of the table, brushing his fingers over it to find the boundaries. You speak first, to let him know where you are.
"Hi."
It comes out far shyer than you mean and Linda gives a pointed 'are you serious' face.
It doesn't matter because he replies just as shyly, "Hi."
"Um, the seat to your right is empty, with a menu in the middle of the table," you direct. Minnie looks up at him and you watch her watch him fold his cane and slip into the seat. You can tell she is curious, but cautious.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" The elderly waitress asks and Matt asks for coffee. She then turns to go fetch that, leaving your new little family to finally meet each other.
You clear your throat and start the introductions, "Minnie, this is Matt. He is going to be our new friend. Can you say hi?"
She's quiet for a few seconds before mumbling out, "Hello."
Matt completely lights up at the greeting. His smile gets so big and boyishly happy you have to bite your lip so you don't break out into your own smile.
"Hi, Minnie. It's…it's so nice to meet you."
Your daughter presses the fist clutching the crayon to her mouth as she looks Matt over. Her little eyes dart all over his features before she turns her head to look up at you. Her brow scrunches up in a way you know means she wants to ask something, so you gently prompt her.
"Do you want to ask something, Mouse?"
She gives a barely there nod.
"Okay. You can take your time. Is that okay, Matt?" You say, gently redirecting the conversation back to him.
"Take your time," Matt tells her, his voice so soft and sweet. Encouraging.
She squirms in her seat and you quickly offer up your hand so she can hold onto it. She grabs your hand with her non-dominant one and squeezes tightly, needing the anchor to know everything will be okay - only then does she talk, her mouth hidden behind fist and crayon.
"You're Mommy's friend?"
Matt nods, smile still on his face, "I am. Or I hope to be. I'd like to be your friend, too."
Minnie rocks side to side in her booster seat, still looking over Matt like she's trying to parse out his motive. Despite not being able to see her contemplating, Matt waits patiently until the next question comes.
"Is it…your Birthday?" She asks after about ten seconds.
Matt shakes his head, his smile going from bright to a little softer, "No, it's not. This," he picks up the gift bag and places it in front of Minnie on the table, "is for you."
Her head automatically turns to look up at you with big questioning eyes, silently seeking permission. You gently squeeze her hand, "You can open it."
She pulls away from you and reaches out to pull the bag closer. It's too tall on the table for her to see into, so she very very gently, like she's scared it will break, tips it over onto its side. The packing tissue matches the bag and your little one gets distracted by that for a moment. She scrunches paper so it crinkles and folds before pulling it out and handing it off to you to hold. You assume that means she wants to keep it, as she knows wrapping paper gets thrown out. To your surprise, the tissue is thicker than what you are used to - it won't rip to shreds if you look at it too hard. That must be why she wants it - it's something to play with later.
A delighted shriek rips through the diner making you and Matt and everyone else in vicinity visibly wince.
"It's Scooby!" Minnie absolutely screams, revealing what is in the bag. It is indeed a Scooby Doo plushie - one of the good quality ones that looks extremely soft to the touch. He's seated and you can tell he has weighted paws to keep him upright and he looks more like a puppy Scooby than the one from the old show, but you know that doesn't matter.
Mouse loves him.
She practically shoves the plush in your face to show you. "Mommy, it's Scooby!"
Her excitement makes you laugh and rub at her back, "I see. Do you like him?" She nods before smashing the plush into her chest and hugging it tightly. You smile more, "What do you say to Matt?"
Matt has the biggest smile on his face and that, plus the gift, seems to soothe Minnie's anxiety. She looks right at him, matching his smile with her own beaming one, "Thank you, Mister Matt!"
"You're welcome, sweetheart."
You can hear the emotion in Matt's voice and it touches your heart. He looks just so happy. You get the feeling he would have been crushed if she hadn't liked the toy.
Minnie holds Scooby up and out to Matt and wiggles him back and forth, "Do you like Scooby? I love Scooby. He's my favorite - he solves mysteries! With Shaggy!"
"I haven't watched cartoons in a long time, but I remember Scooby Doo. I liked the girl with the glasses," Matt replies gently. You give a pleased hum at his response.
"Velma! That's Mommy's favorite!" Minnie exclaims, hugging her new toy again. She's so excited and wiggling with delight. You can't fight your smile as you watch her - and how could you? Matt's own smile is infectious.
"Oh, is she?" He asks and your little girl gives another eager nod.
"Uh-huh. 'Cause she's not scared of the monsters!"
That earns a little chuckle from both you and Matt, and he asks, "Are the monsters scary?"
"Yeah! But - but they are really just People," she screws up her face and emphasizes the word, pausing before starting again, "so they aren't Really scary."
"Ah, I see. Velma must be pretty brave to not be scared of the monsters."
"Mommy's braver," Mouse says proudly, puffing up her chest. She puts emphasis between each word, "Mommy's not scared of anything."
Your cheeks burn at her declaration.
"Is that so?" Matt asks, tilting his head a little towards you, his smile turning amused. You can tell he knows it's not true, but he won't break her illusion.
"I try to be," you say, rubbing Minnie's back again, trying to get her to calm down just a little bit. She's too happy over the new play thing to be nervous. Matt's done good - she's going to want to talk about cartoons - at least until food comes.
Linda has been eyeing your table and finally breaks away from the counter to come over to you, dropping off Matt's coffee then taking out her order pad.
"Can I get y'all started on some food?"
Minnie's attention is ripped away from Scooby and she looks up at the waitress. She squirms in her seat to sit up even taller and proclaims, "I want grilled cheese. With fruit. Please. Thank you."
She's ordered her own food from Linda before, though usually with not such confidence. You think this is part of her push to be a Big Girl. She's gotten to the age where she's started telling you she's not a baby anymore, even if you disagree, and you wonder if she's trying to impress Matt by showing that. You think it's absolutely adorable.
You can tell Linda does, too.
"One grilled cheese with fruit for the cupcake. How about Mom?"
You consider your options and decide quickly what you want, "Let's go with a grilled cheese with french fries."
Linda jots down the order and turns her attention to Matt, "and the sir?"
"I think I'll have to round it out and get a grilled cheese with fries."
Linda laughs to herself like she's very much enjoying the free reality show she is getting. "Three grilled cheese, two fry, and one fruit coming right up. Think about what y'all want for dessert."
You duck your head in embarrassment, knowing you are turning pink at the tease. You know she knows Matt is Minnie's father. She looks just like him and sitting there smiling together, there is no denying it. You don't need a DNA test.
One hundred percent, Matt Murdock fathered your precious little angel.
And Linda seems to think this is the Best Thing in the World. She is absolutely thrilled and you know she's going to gossip with the cooks.
Matt's got a blush to his cheeks as well, licking his lips shyly.
That makes you blush even more.
Minnie is totally unaware of the implications and declares she wants a sundae.
"Okay, then, I'll go get your order in so you can get that faster," Linda tells her before going to check on the next table.
"Cupcake?" Matt questions once she steps away, raising his brow over his glasses as he does. His smile is turning into a smirk and you think he's over being shy now. At least towards you.
"Minnie is sporting her Princess dress," you advise. You don't think his smile can get any bigger.
"A princess dress? Am I under dressed?"
You gently nudge your daughter, "Can you tell Matt about your dress?"
Minnie hugs Scooby to her chest before happily launching into a description of her dress, "It's pink! And yellow! And puffy! It has sparkles! And I can run in it."
"You can run in it?" He clarifies. The answer is a vigorous nod, so you jump in to help.
"The bottom is kind of like a tutu - lots of tulle. It only goes to her calves, so it won't drag on the ground. She looks like an upside down cupcake." You don't know if that helps at all, but he doesn't push for more information.
"It sounds like a really good Princess dress. Does that make you the Queen?" He teases. It gets a giggle from your daughter, which only makes you blush more. He directs his next inquiry to Minnie, once she's done laughing at you.
"Can you tell me what your Mommy is wearing?"
Your little one doesn't question why Matt needs things described to him and jumps right in, always so eager to please, "Mommy's wearing her fancy pants and a pretty top and she's got pretty hair. She looks pretty." Matt makes a pleased little noise over her description, encouraging her to continue on.
You resist the urge to hide your face in your hands. Your pants aren't fancy - she just rarely sees you outside leggings and sweatpants. You are going to have to take her to nicer places so she doesn't think jeans are formal wear. And pretty? Well, Mouse thinks everything is pretty.
"Do you think Mommy's pretty?" Minnie boldly asks instead of describing you more and you feel like you are going to die. You'd much rather prefer if she was being shy right now.
"I do," he says gently and of course it makes your blush even harder. This meeting should be about him meeting Minnie, but it is apparently about them ganging up on you to explode your heart out of your chest. "My eyes got hurt when I was a kid, so I can't see through them anymore. I see things through hearing and touching. I think you're Mommy has a very pretty voice. I like how she says different words. I can't see you're Mommy rubbing your back, but if I listen I can hear it. I can't see that your Mommy is wearing a pretty shirt, but now that you told me, I know. I use my hands to find out what shapes things are and where things are around me." He demonstrates by gently, and exaggeratedly, patting the table until he finds the menu. Mouse watches in fascination as he pushes it to be between them.
"I can't read like your Mommy can anymore with my eyes, so instead I use my fingers. Each set of bumps is a letter. It's called Braille and it's the English alphabet for people who use their fingers to read instead of their eyes."
You watch as your daughter listens to the explanation. She scrunches up her face as she processes the information, before looking down at her hands. She flexes her fingers a few times before looking back up at Matt.
"You got hurt?" She asks. Matt nods and gives an affirmative, pulling the menu back towards him. Part of you wonders if he's explained being Blind to a child before - his words and the concepts are simple enough for your little one to grasp. You're glad you left this to him.
"Something bad got in my eyes and made them not work anymore." You know this is something your daughter understands - she's gotten things in her eyes before that made it hard for her to see. You can see the dots connecting in Mouse's mind - she rubs a little fist into her left eye like it's irritated.
"Do you need a band-aid?" Minnie asks before dropping her arm with a little gasp, "or a kissy? Mommy gives me a kissy when I get hurt." Her concern is adorable and before Matt can answer her, she's jutting her new toy out towards him again, "Scooby can give you a kissy."
You can't see Matt's eyes behind his red glasses, but you can totally tell Minnie has already got him completely wrapped around her little fingers. You don't know if it's instinct to love her or he's just charmed by her sweetness.
"Thank you, sweetheart. I don't need one right now, it happened a long time ago. They've healed, they just don't work anymore. But if you could help tell me what things look like, I would very much appreciate that." His words are gentle and your daughter absolutely lights up over being asked to help. She loves to help.
"I can do that! I know what lots of things are!" She's practically bouncing in her seat, and deciding this is something you need to practice as well, tell Matt as such.
He tilts his head towards you, and it might be a trick of your mind, but for a moment his smile looks a bit softer before his attention is pulled back to Minnie. She's holding up Scooby again - you think she's not going to let go of the toy for the rest of the day - and once both you and Matt are focused on her, she starts describing him the best she can.
"He's brown and he's got a big head and he's a dog!" She turns the toy so it's back is facing Matt before telling him Scooby has black spots, "But not like Pongo. Only a little bit of spots. Pongo has.. Pongo has ten spots." She nods with authority over her assessment and you smile down at her, pride warming your heart.
"Thank you for telling me what he looks like," Matt says gently, making your little one just beam back at him. "You're very good at it."
You lean on your fist and watch her giggle and hide her face against Scooby. You don't want her to get too embarrassed and not want to talk, so you guide the conversation to something easy for her.
"Do you want to tell Matt about what we're going to do after lunch?" You ask, knowing it's a topic that excites her and she won't be shy, but it's also something he can relate to.
Across the table from you, Matt leans forward a little, clearly giving all his attention to Minnie, "Are you going to do something fun after lunch?"
The question gets her to look up from trying to hide away and she nods. She pushes her drawing, which has been ignored since Matt arrived, across the table towards him. You think she doesn't fully understand the concept that Matt cannot see yet, but she'll figure it out.
"She's sliding you her drawing," you say to try and help. You don't know if he needs more description than that - you can't remember how assistive you were during your night together. You're hoping it's another conversation you can have so you can adapt better to his life.
Matt feels around the table in front of him until he finds the notepad and he pulls it towards him. Minnie presses her face back into her plushie as she watches him run his fingers around the paper. You are all silent as he locates one of the circles Minnie has scribbled and begins to trace it. His lips begin to twitch at the corners and you wonder what he is thinking - what he is feeling. You hope this isn't a cruel thing - Minnie trying to show him her art.
You can tell he can feel the indentation of the crayon being pushed into the paper and you hope it is enough. You are definitely going to look into tactile art when you get home. You don't want to risk being this cruel and embarrassing again.
"We're gonna see the duckies," Minnie says after a beat and much to your surprise, she pushes herself up so she can reach across the table and places her finger on a circle Matt's not touching. "That's Quack."
Matt moves his finger to brush against hers, grounding where he is then begins to trace that circle, "This one is Quack?"
"Yeah! He's yellow. And this one," she pushes her finger to the third scribble, which is more square than circle, "is Moose. He's mean."
"He's mean?" Matt asks as he follows her finger with his own. The drawing is not very big, so he easily finds her finger again, bumping up against hers. All the yellow circles and shapes look the same to you but you know that isn't the case to your daughter and listening to her explain to Matt makes you want to pull out your camera and record the breathtaking smile he has right now.
You're sure there's plenty of time for that later. You're not going to break the moment getting out your phone.
"He bites," Minnie says wisely, like it's a warning. Matt takes it as such and nods in understanding as he follows her finger around the drawing.
"That is mean. You shouldn't bite people," Matt replies, taking in the shape of Moose. "What color is he?"
"He's yellow too," she answers, "but he's only got one feets. That's why he's mean." She carefully moves herself back so she can plop down in her seat. "Mommy says…Mommy says he can't runs away so he bites."
You turn your head a little so you can smile into your hand. Hearing her repeat something you have previously told her always makes your heart melt - she's learning and retaining and growing up. Soon, she won't be your little baby girl.
"That's right, sweetie," you praise. "He can't run away like the other ducks, so to tell people to stay away, he bites. How do you keep from being bitten?"
Minnie screws up her face in thought and you glance at Matt to gauge his reaction. He still has his hand on the drawings, though he's stopped tracing them since she sat down, and he looks so enraptured by your daughter - his daughter.
As if he senses you looking at him, he sends a soft smile your way. You return it, not caring that he can't see it. This happy little moment is perfect in your eyes.
"You can only pet the duckies at the zoo," Minnie says after a few moments of thinking. She looks up to you to make sure that is the correct answer and you nod, smiling down at her.
"Exactly, we can only pet the ducks at the zoo. Those ducks like to be pet. The ducks in the park don't want to be pet, so we don't touch them," you gently reinforce.
"That is a good way to keep everyone happy," Matt agrees, moving his hand away from the notepad so he can take a drink of his coffee.
Minnie quickly moves to mimic him and you watch as she carefully brings her glass of lemonade closer. Linda already provided a straw, so you don't need to worry about her trying to pick up the glass so you'll let her do this herself unless she asks for help. She has to sit up straight, but Mouse is able to wrap her lips around the straw and take a few sips.
Then of course, as soon as she's done she holds Scooby up to the straw and pushes his muzzle against it a little too hard. Your hand flies out to stabilize the glass before it can wobble too much. You don't chastise her, as she did nothing wrong, and simply hold the lemonade while she plays.
"Slurp slurp slurp," Minnie whispers to herself before 'walking' the toy back into her lap.
"Do you like watching the ducks?" Matt asks once she's done, bringing her focus back, and instead of nodding, your little one makes Scooby nod for her before she turns him over and starts messing with his weighted paws.
"They're funny. They have lots of fights. And put their butts up in the water." You try to not huff at her description, as she is not exactly wrong. Part of you wants to jump in and explain what she means, but you want her to bond with Matt. You don't want her to rely on you as a go-between for explaining things to one another. They need to learn each other's language.
"They put their butts up?" Matt asks bewildered and you don't know if it's genuine or played up for Minnie.
Either way, your little girl giggles, "When they go down in the water. They go butt up!" She looks up at Matt then turns her plush over so his tail is pointed towards the ceiling, "like this!"
You do decide to intervene at this point, tapping on Minnie's shoulder so she looks up to you, "Matt can't see with his eyes, remember? You need to tell him what it looks like or let him feel."
You can see the little wheels turning behind her eyes as she mentally puts the pieces together. She looks back to him then plonks Scooby face down, ass up on her notepad.
"Like this," she repeats before patting the sides of the plushie. She then leans back in her seat and smiles at Matt, proud of herself. You bite your lip, waiting to see what Matt does.��
He doesn't push for or request more description, instead quickly finding the edge of the notepad, then feeling over Scooby. You're pretty sure he's putting on a show of patting over the toy by the way it's making Minnie giggle.
"Do you know why they put their butts up?" He asks and you wonder how much longer you will be talking of duck butts. It's cute, but you are also in public. Matt seems to not care at all so you push aside any embarrassment creeping at the edge of your psyche.
They both absolutely deserve this.
Your little one shakes her head with a 'not-uh' at Matt's question. You've told her why before, but you are sure she's forgotten - it is not useful information to her three year old brain.
"It's so they can get food underwater," he says as he flips Scooby over so he's sitting properly again. "They float on the water, but their food is underneath them." He bounces Scooby lightly, like he's floating in water. As she watches and listens, Mouse sticks her little hands into her mouth. "They have to dive down to get it, because they don't have hands to pick it up," he demonstrates by tipping the stuffed dog forward, so he's once again face down ass up. "So they end up sticking their butts out of the water. They look for food like this."
As he finishes his explanation, he pushes Scooby towards Minnie, pretending to make him snuffle and sniff for her, including making the sound himself. She hides her face behind her hands, giggling loudly, "There's no food here!"
"Oh no, there's not?" Matt asks in an overly dejected voice, tilting Scooby back up so he's sitting. He lets go of the plush and to keep up the fun atmosphere, you quickly pick it up instead.
You bounce the toy towards your daughter, teasing lightly, "is he going to have to gobble you up instead?"
"No!" She mock wails, lightly kicking her feet and still hiding her face, "I'm not food!"
"Are you sure?" Matt asks, leaning forward a little bit. "You look like food to me."
"Nom nom nom," you say in a deep voice, having Scooby's muzzle bump into her arm repeatedly. His pun doesn't dawn on you until Mouse starts squirming around and giggling.
"Noooo!"
"Well, looks like I'm here right in time," Linda declares as she very suddenly appears at the end of the table holding a tray with your orders. You flush in embarrassment, instinctively moving to sit up straight and behave and pulling Scooby into your lap. You feel like a misbehaving kid who got caught playing in class.
Matt has the most shit eating grin on his face, like he doesn't care who saw him playing with Minnie. He probably doesn't - this is his first time meeting her and it's going so well.
Your meals are placed in front of you, with Linda narrating to Matt where his plate is and where the food is on the plate when she sets it in front of him as she collects the menus.
"Thank you, Linda," Matt says from across the booth, managing to look and sound boyishly charming.
Again, almost instantly, Minnie copies him, giving her biggest and brightest, "Thank you, Miss Linda!"
"Thank you, Linda," you echo with your own little smile because you don't want to be rude and because you know she'll fucking love it.
"Well isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever seen," she coos at you and you have to bite your lip so you don't laugh. You just know she is going to corner you at some point and demand answers. But that is for later, right now you are in your own bubble.
Beside you, Minnie helpfully pipes up, "Mister Matt can't see, you have to tell him what you see. Or let him feel."
You close your eyes tightly so you don't cringe or laugh. Your little Mouse is trying her best to do what she has been taught and you can't fault her at all. Linda gives a surprised yet amused laugh while Matt addresses your daughter. You can hear the smile in his voice.
"Thank you, Minnie, that's right. She's talking about us and I know that, so she doesn't need to explain. I appreciate your help in telling her, though." You look over to your daughter to gauge her reaction and she is still all smiles and Love.
"You're welcome!" She brightly replies then turns her attention to you and the toy in your lap, "Mommy, can I have Scooby?"
Linda gently taps the edge of the table with her knuckles as she steps away from the table, "Y'all enjoy your food and let me know if y'all need anything else." Her grin is enormous, and you'll have to give a nice tip for not completely embarrassing you.
You thank her again and once she's left, you pass Scooby back to Minnie, with a gentle reminder, "Put him to the side, so he won't get dirty." She nods in understanding, taking him and plopping him on the other side of her booster seat. Then she leans on the table and stretches her little arms until she can grab the napkin holder on the other end of the booth. Before you realize what she's doing, she yanks a handful of napkins free and falls back into her seat with an "oof".
"Are you alright?" Matt quickly asks, reaching his hand out over the table towards her like he can actually catch her from there if she falls.
His instinct to protect her makes your heart sing as you answer, "she's okay. Mouse, if you can't reach, you can ask for help." You still pat over her to make sure she's completely okay and it causes her to squirm in her seat.
"I can reach," is her slightly pouty reply. You don't want to get her cranky when she's been doing so well, so you let this pass and pull your hands away.
"Okay, sweetheart, just be careful, okay?"
Instead of answering, she ignores you and slowly she starts to unfold the napkins one by one. You have no idea what she is doing so you just watch. For a moment - then you remember Matt has no idea what is going on and you try your hand at narrating, "She grabbed napkins and now she is unfolding them."
"Why are you doing that, sweetheart?" He asks your daughter, brow knitting up and mouth turning into a frown.
She looks up at him as she pulls open another napkin and lays it flat on the table, saying like it's the most obvious thing, "Scooby doesn't have a lap."
"Scooby…doesn't have a lap?" Matt clarifies, clearly confused. You are as well until Minnie turns and starts draping the napkins over the plushie, covering him with them like a patchwork ghost.
Then you get it. "He doesn't have a lap to hold his napkin."
Realization dawns on Matt's face and he huffs in delight, "Of course." He makes a big show of taking the napkin around the silverware of his place set and putting it in his lap, even though your little one barely looks up at him. "We don't want to get dirty while eating."
"No crumbs," you agree, taking your napkin and putting it into your lap. You are constantly amazed by what your little girl retains - usually you have to put the napkin on her lap or remind her. Big Girl table manners is something you've only just started working on and pride swells in your chest at her actions. Even if she's just trying to impress Matt you are thrilled your lessons are working.
Once Scooby is hidden under napkins, Minnie puts one still folded napkin into her own lap. She pats it carefully so it's flat. As she does that, you check her plate to make sure everything is ready for her. Her kid's grilled cheese is already cut into four triangles, so you don't need to make anything smaller for her, and the fruit cup doesn't require any help. She's big enough to be able to stab the cut fruit with a fork and eat it on her own. You don't need to fuss with anything on her plate, so you start picking at your french fries. Matt has the same idea as you, going for his side instead of the main, but your daughter picks up the closest quarter of her sandwich and starts to nibble at it, like the Mouse she is.
A comfortable silence falls over your booth as you all start to eat.
You're still a little hesitant to trust everything is really going so well. You've conditioned yourself to believe that eventually everything will always fall apart - you just need to give it time. People leave and things go wrong, and you're left hurt and alone to pick up the pieces. You pray and hope and wish this curse the universe has put on you doesn't get passed down to your daughter. As long as you are breathing you won't leave her - and maybe if you believe hard enough Matt has come into Minnie's life and you are only there by extension, things won't come crashing down around her.
You'll fight tooth and nail for her well-being if it comes down to it, but it's something you don't want to have to do. She deserves a good, easy life.
Matt breaks you from your depressing thoughts, tilting his head and that handsome sweet smile towards Minnie, "How is your grilled cheese, Minnie?"
She looks up at him from behind her food, eyes going wide at being addressed, like she forgot Matt was even there. She sets down her half-eaten slice before answering, in a shy little mumble, "...it's yummy."
"Yeah?"
You duck your head with a fond smile. After the brief excitement of playing, of course she reverts back to being shy. You can sense she wants to start squirming and hiding at the direct attention, so you try to redirect the energy. It's amazing how bold you can be when trying to comfort your daughter. You can let yourself be uncomfortable until the cows come home, but you don't want her to experience that.
"Matt, can you tell Minnie a little about yourself?" You ask, maybe a little bit louder than you intended to.
He tilts his head towards you just slightly, his lips parting slightly and brow furrowing like he doesn't quite get why you asked that now. But he doesn't question you, instead leaning back into his seat to think over the question.
You want Minnie to know more about Matt to get more comfortable with him but you are also curious. Hearing what someone says about themselves is more telling than reading about them in online news articles.
"Let's see, I first met your Mommy a few years ago at a party. That's how we became friends. My other friends and I run a law firm where we help people when they get in trouble," He pokes at his fries while he talks and that seems to help Minnie relax more. She picks up her grilled cheese triangle and resumes eating while she listens. "I grew up here in Hell's Kitchen and want to help all my neighbors the best I can, because they are good people who don't have a lot of people to help them. I am able to help them, so my friends and I do the best we can to help them if they need it. I want to live in a happy place where people help each other."
You have no idea if he has experience talking to three year olds, but you think he'll have no problems with Minnie. Even if she doesn't understand exactly what he's saying, she watches him with interested eyes and you can tell she's taking in the information the best she can. Even if she's getting shy again, it's obvious Matt doesn't scare her.
"You help people?" your little one asks as Matt eats another fry. "Like a police man?"
He shakes his head, "No, after the police man comes. Like, if a police man thinks someone did something bad, but they didn't. They need someone to come tell the policeman they are innocent. That means they didn't do the bad thing."
Mouse pauses her chewing, sandwich still partly in her mouth. You haven't really discussed the topic of police with her - she's just three after all, but you know from the shows she watches the police are viewed in a good light. Personally, you've seen the bad side and know very well Matt helped clearing out the corrupt cops in Hell's Kitchen, but the concept the police might get something wrong seems to be a big one for her. Her little nose and brow scrunch up as things roll around in her head.
Matt seems to realize she's processing, as he continues to eat his fries and wait for the next question.
Finally, she puts her sandwich back down and looks up at Matt with slightly narrowed eyes.
"Are you Spidey-man?"
You try very hard to not laugh at the series of emotions that fly across Matt's face. First, he looks confused, then he makes this face like he smelled something bad, curling up his lips a little, before forcing it back into a smile with the help of a deep breath.
"No, sweetheart, I'm not Spider-Man, I'm a lawyer."
Minnie visibly deflates with a tiny 'oh', picking up a new sandwich triangle to start eating while looking like she's been told Christmas has been canceled. You suck on your bottom lip so you won't laugh. Across from you, Matt looks like he's angry at himself for not being Spider-Man and for disappointing Mouse over the fact - like how dare he not be the spunky superhero.
You feel the need to intervene before the mood shifts into something negative.
You pick up one of your french fries and wave it a little at Minnie to get her attention, "Matt can't be Spider-Man, Mouse. He's too tall." That gets her to look up at him again and he offers her this tiny hopeful smile. You feel like he's silently begging her to not be upset at him over something he can't control. "Remember? The balloon lady said he was as tall as her and Matt's taller than that."
You have no idea if she even registered how tall Matt is or if she can even mentally compare his height to the height of someone she's never seen in person, but you know pointing out how things are different in the past has worked.
She screws up her face at your words, carefully considering them, then finally nods and declares, "He's too tall to be Spidey-man." And just like that, everything is fine and she goes back to eating.
You grin to yourself and pop your fry into your mouth. Matt sits there, like he needs his own moment to process what happened. You are used to toddler wild mood swings and how to deal with them - you speak fluent Minnie logic. It will take him time to learn and you are sure there will be plenty of chances for it. He will be a master of it in no time if his fancy law degree is any indication.
Matt clears his throat after a long pause before picking up half of his sandwich, "Is he your favorite superhero?"
You wonder if he is really ready for this conversation. Minnie is part of the first generation to grow up with Super Heroes being a Real thing and not from war stories and comic books. You've tried to keep her away from all the news stories about all the horrible world events that keep happening, but capitalism sure loves to sell the idea and you can't fight capitalism. You're half convinced the Avengers are funded by their merchandise sales alone. Spider-Man isn't a part of all that, as far as you know, but New York loves the guy and you can get bootleg Spider merch on most street corners. Which you have, because Mouse thinks he's Cool.
"He saved a kitty," she says with lots of pride in her voice. "I saw on TV."
You remember the news segment from a few weeks prior: someone had filmed Spider-Man rescuing a cat that had gotten stuck in some construction equipment. It was heartwarming.
"He saved a kitty?" He asks, pretending to be in awe. Minnie gives a vigorous nod before shoving more of her grilled cheese into her mouth.
"She's nodding," you narrate, finally moving to eat your sandwich. "It was a daring rescue. I had to save the video on my phone so we can rewatch it. It was on top of a crane."
"Do you like Spidey-man?" Mouse asks as soon as she swallows her food. You know he can't see you, but you still look at Matt with raised eyebrows, wanting to know his answer as well.
"Well, based off what you said, he sounds like a good man. He wasn't around when I was growing up, so I'm partial to Captain America. I used to read his comics when I was little like you." It's a very diplomatic and lawyer-y answer and it makes you wonder if Matt even likes the topic. Hell's Kitchen did get the short end of the stick in the Battle of New York and the whole thing might be a touchy subject, especially considering his career. You know developers tried to take advantage of all the destruction and that must have caused a tonne of legal trouble.
Not that Minnie knows any of that, so you try to divert the conversation with the first thought that comes to mind, "what about ducks, Mr. Murdock, are you a fan of ducks?"
Your question throws him for a moment, but eventually he hums at the inquiry before nodding, "I do like ducks. Even ones who bite." He shoots you a little smile, something charming that makes your heart stutter. So instead of continuing to look at him, you turn to your daughter.
"Do you think we should invite Matt to visit the ducks?" You ask, wanting to make sure she is comfortable with the idea before properly asking Matt if he would like to come along. You have no idea if he has plans after this or not, but it is worth a shot.
Minnie looks from you to Matt and back again, pursing her lips in thought before lowering her voice into an unintentional stage whisper, "Mommy, he can't touch the duckies."
You try your best to not coo at her concern. You want to wrap her up in your arms and never let anything bad happen because how can your little angel be so thoughtful after only knowing him for half an hour?
"It's okay, sweetie," Matt softly says, and you turn your gaze to him. You swear you can feel the emotion coming off of him in waves - the desire to spend more time with his daughter, to learn more about her and bond. "You can help describe them to me, if you want. If you want me to come with you."
The last part hits home - you are very familiar with that way of speech. The want and ache to be included but knowing you'll most likely be denied the opportunity.
It feels like an infinity passes before she looks away from both of you and shyly admits, "I can help." She was so enthusiastic with her new toy and you do want to try to get that energy back. The park is one of the places she forgets to be a timid little mouse and you are hoping once she's not trapped in the booth, it will be easier for her to express herself.
"May I go with you to visit the ducks, Minnie?" He asks so proper and politely and it makes your stomach do funny things. You really do not understand how this wonderful man picked you of all people to sleep with.
Mouse squirms then pushes her wrist against her mouth, mumbling into it, "I wanna see the duckies. With Mister Matt. And Mommy."
You lean in and gently kiss the top of her head, rubbing at her back to silently tell her she did such a good job. "We'll all go see the duckies after we finish eating. All together."
Minnie peeks up at you, that shy sweet smile brightening to a look only reserved for Mommy, "We're gonna see the duckies. All together."
From the other side of the booth you hear Matt confirm in the softest voice, like you weren't meant to hear it.
"All together."
tags list:
@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife
@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt
@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374
@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza
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𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
smut:
eres mia [miguel stops your arranged marriage]
fetish [hooking up with ex-boyfriend miguel]
devil's advocate [helping out a little angel]
the girl with the tattoo [goth girl with intimidating aura]
the apology [where you find your sweet husband yelling at the spider-kids]
el cocinero [miguel teaches you how to cook]
barbenheimer [miguel blabbering about the events of oppenheimer]
only one you need [miguel takes you in after a run in with the black cat]
helping claw [miguel calls you over after he's been dealing with some stress, having a surprise when you arrive]
dress [seeing miguel after leaving nueva york]
thigh worshipper [miguel seeks your thighs for comfort after dealing with nueva york's villains]
be my mistake [falling for miguel after dating his brother]
greatest achievement [miguel asks you for help after overdosing from stress]
cara mia [addams family inspired fic]
water [water tiktok trend]
obsession [obsessing over his biceps]
giving you control [pegging miguel]
should've been me [reporter reader x miguel]
celoso [jealous miguel]
hate to love you [moonknight miguel x hathor avatar reader]
yes, your majesty [king miguel x princess reader]
what happens in vegas [marriage in vegas]
sharing's caring [cuckholding with miguel and peter]
here, spider spider [trying out viral lotion with him]
settling a debt [miguel's your boss, you're a maid]
easiest thing [you think you're hard to love]
sweetest bite [baker x miguel]
wanted to help [fbi!mig x crime scene technician reader]
after hours [professor mig]
glimpse of us [miguel gets reminded of someone familiar after you join the spider society]
series:
friends with benefits part two [miguel started off calling solely to achieve pleasure but what happens when you catch feelings?]
la apuesta part two [what started off as a bet]
el arreglo part two [arranged marriage with miguel]
forbidden part two [brother's best friend]
the other woman part two [the woman miguel sees when he's not with his wife]
powerless part two [friends to lovers]
treat her better part two [miguel starts to neglect your relationship]
falling behind part two part three [what started off as a fake relationship]
little nurse little nurse part two [helping miguel out when he needs it]
unfinished:
still beating for the first time [finding miguel cheating]
million dollar man woven in cartier [sugar daddy mig]
not my car! [miguel uses your car in a fight]
beyond love [miguel x lawyer reader]
a playlist of our relationship [1] [2] [3] [miguel finds love after a toxic cycle with his ex]
sfw/short fics:
hey [you try flirting with miguel]
amarte a la antigua
don't let me go [reader doesn't want kids]
playing roblox with miguel
breaking point [you get sick of miguel's attitude]
cat dad miguel headcanons
flashing lights prologue
i <3 my boyfriend
later time [in which peter forgets your date]
protector [he’s your bodyguard]
it’s got to be you [suguru requests your help as his fake girlfriend?]
within infinities [gojo needs some time to trust after suguru leaves]
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Seventeen recs
<<original book
most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI
pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments
one shots
Law and order by @bambikisss
Mingyu x fem!reader (wc - 6.8k)
coworkers to lovers, CEO!Mingyu, lawyer!reader
- fluff, smut
With Mingyu being named the new CEO of the top company, his father hires you to be his lawyer to keep him in line and out of trouble.
heir by @smileysuh
Mingyu x fem!reader (wc - 3.4k)
royal AU, established relationship
- fluff, smut
As a princess, you’d grown up knowing you’d marry a prince and help him sire a number of adorable little royals. Truth be told, one of the things that had drawn you to Mingyu had been the way he’d interacted with his young cousins, children that would run up to him- and despite his princely stature, Mingyu always had time to entertain them, with a glint of adoration in his eye that had convinced you he was the one to marry- moreso than any of his older brothers.
Puppy Code by @beefboyandbabygirl
Mingyu x fem!reader (wc - 5.7k)
university AU (GIRL CODE universe)
- fluff, smut, crack
mingyu doesn't have crushes. he likes avril lavigne and sometimes he fucks pretty girls. but you seem to stir something in him that no one else can. without the trusty girl code, mingyu makes his own code to help you fall in love with him.
birthday love by @sluttyminghao
Mingyu x fem!reader (wc - 2.3k)
established relationship
- fluff, smut
the only thing mingyu wanted from you for his birthday was to make love. and that was something you could certainly do.
series
#seventeen#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#seventeen recs#mingyu#svt mingyu#kim mingyu#mingyu x reader#mingyu smut
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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟'𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵. 𝘻𝘦𝘳𝘰
pairing. batfam x batsis!reader + platonic!matt murdock x batsis!reader
warnings. swearing, child neglect, mentions of an accident that makes you blind, canon/typical violence, nothing goes with comics
series masterlist
You got to Gotham city when you were five, you didn't want to go but you had no choice your mother was dead, and had left you in the care of your father.
But even at five years old your father had no time for you. Always busy with the public, or with Batman.
At the time Dick was fifteen, he had no reason to care for a little sister, but Jason. Oh Jason Todd, to you he was an angel.
Your big brother who at eight years old you deemed cooler than Dick Grayson.
Everyday after patrol, he'd come up and check on you, tell you a story usually a more child friendly version of his missions.
You kept him grounded, you made all his anger go away, an anger you blamed Bruce for because when you two first met he wasn't angry he was a happy kid. Everytime you called his name, the soft mutter of "Jay" would knock some sense into him.
But after the accident, the one you went blind, you were nine nearly ten and Jason would stay fifteen, in that year you had lost two things.
Your sight, and your big brother
You were often met with pity than concern because of it. Everyone always asking if you were alright, but never truly caring about the answer.
You heard about the headlines when it happened, "Y/n Wayne, gone blind" or "Gotham's little princess now Gotham's latest victim"
It's not like they actually cared, no of course not they only gave a shit about the publicity they'd get from selling stories like this.
You were only nine years old, you'd think five years would be enough to adjust.
Apparently not..
"Miss Wayne" you heard a gentle knocking at the door of your father's office- well it's your office now. Bruce signed Wayne Industries off to you, because it would make everyone's lives easier if you (someone they deemed quite useless) were actually doing something important, it gave them more vigilante time. Besides you finished school already, you were a smart kid, always top of your class you managed to skip a couple of grades and graduate early like super early.
You were a disappointed when nobody but Alfred turned up, then again you'd stopped caring about that a while ago. Jason - your beloved zombie brother - wouldn't stop apologising, and he took you for ice-cream and hung out with you for the rest of the night as an apology. You couldn't stay mad at him.
"Yes?" you'd been running the company for a few weeks, Alfred was usually helping you. Reading out things that weren't in braille, but since the first thing you did when you got Wayne Industries was buy braille embossers mainly 'cause you knew Alfred would always be there to help you with everything.
"Sorry to disturb you Miss, but y'know that guy that you fired last week?"
"Yeah, the one that was caught uh- having sex in the storage room right?"
"The very same Miss" if you could see right now Tani's face would be littered with pink on her cheeks, "He wants to sue"
"And?" you groaned, that came out harsher that you intended, you could sense that she understood.
"Well he's got a pretty compelling case against the company. When your father owned it that is, very incriminating"
"shit" you muttered under your breath, mentally thanking any godly being out their that Alfred wasn't there to hear you.
"how hard is it to get a good lawyer?"
"No" Matt's voice was firm, he didn't want to take the case and nobody could make him.
"no what do you mean, no" Foggy didn't get it, I mean he sort of did but you were offering a nice pay- like more than what's in their pay grade- but it had nothing to do with criminal law, sort of.
"I don't want to do it Foggy, it has nothing to do with my job or qualifications"
"I'm going to do it then"
"No" Foggy wasn't even listening, he had already walked out of the room and went to reply to the email your secretary had sent to him and various other lawyers.
Foggy stepped up to Tani's desk- Matt beside him- and smiled, eying to the elevator that led all the way up to your office, two security guards on each side. You had put them there for Tani because when she didn't let people up they'd harass her.
"Hi, we're here to see Miss Wayne" Foggy's voice only slightly louder than the crappy music in the background. Tani looked up, "name?"
"Nelson, Foggy Nelson"
For the first time since they arrived Matt talked, but only to utter his name.
"Through the elevator please"
They walked as silently as possible, neither in the mood to talk to one another. Once they were inside and going up Matt was talking.
"Y'know kids probably just gonna be another spoilt rich kid, who's daddy running the business behind their back because they can't do shit"
Foggy only let out a sigh, and walked through the elevator doors when he saw it open, only to reveal another door, one he assumed led to your office.
He was shocked to hear laughter coming from inside the room, what ever happened to professionalism?
"Alfie, I swear this guy was high-"
Matt heard a this 'Alfie' guy chuckle "Miss Wayne you can't say that about them, they're lawyers that came hear to help you"
"I know I know, but you should've seen them" you exaggerated the word seen and it made Alfred laugh.
But the laughter stopped when Foggy knocked on the door and Alfred cleared his through smiling while gesturing for them to come in.
"Oh my god, she's blind Matt" Foggy whispered, as he watched you move from leaning on the desk and stood up straight.
"Sorry I'd shake your hand but I'm not exactly sure where you are"
Matt smiled at that "Don't worry 'bout it, 'cause I don't know where you are either"
"He's blind" Foggy not so discreetly whispered to you.
"I can see that" you whispered back with a chuckle, you cleared you throat "now onto business then?"
"Of course"
Okay maybe Matt was a little wrong about you, alright very wrong about you. You were nothing like he imagined, but then again he hadn't put much thought to what you might be like.
He could tell that you could handle yourself, and that impressed him a lot. He could also tell that you were still grasping the ropes of being blind.
And well he wanted to help you, to train you. He thought it was funny, him training someone but he wanted to try. Maybe you could be the next Daredevil.... scratch that he didn't want that for you.
Now how is someone supposed to reveal a secret identity to a complete stranger?
ᴛᴀɢ/ꜱ: @fandxmslxt69 @jaguarthecat @bxdbxtxh15 @byebyeeye @8-29pm
© ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ/ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ/ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ
#duchess au#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#batfam x reader#batsis reader#batsis x batfam#matt murdock x reader platonic#matt murdock x reader#foggy nelson x reader#dc x marvel#enzo writes [📝]#crossover
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The Lady - 6
Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader
Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.
Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi
Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 ,-
I'd really appreciate it if anyone who likes this series could leave a comment or reblog with a GIF.
Could you let me know what your thoughts are? Reblogs and comments are the main things that keep me posting new stories. ❤️❤️❤️
You shot a glare at Bucky, who only chuckled in response.
Linking his arm with yours, Bucky suggested, "Let's go meet them together."
Rosie was taken aback when she spotted Bucky.
"I woke up today and still don't see the other half, Princess," Bucky quipped.
Maintaining her composure, Rosie replied, "You're too impatient. My assistant just delivered it to your club."
"Ooh, then I hope you like the service," Bucky retorted with a smirk.
"Impeccable," Rosie replied smoothly, before turning her gaze to you. She tilted her head slightly and added, "I always sensed that you're an adventurous person. I admire your work. I felt comfortable when I found out you're part of this."
You hadn't expected such a compliment from her. While you had met Rosie a few times before, you always felt a sense of superiority from her.
Surrounded by Eddie and Freddie, you never felt out of place. But when Rosie, with her royal blood as a princess, joined the group, the dynamic shifted, and the boys seemed to adopt a more regal demeanor.
Despite your ability to keep up with them, there were times during the summer when you preferred to retreat to Rupert's empty mansion.
You leaned in closer to Rosie and whispered, "Why did you do it?"
Rosie leaned in, her voice barely audible as she replied, "That man doesn't fit to be the future King. It wasn't me who wants him dead. I only lent a hand."
As Rosie spoke, you realized that the relationships within the royal family were even more intricate than you had imagined.
"Some people like your work," Rosie continued. "And I think you will get another client."
Bucky puffed out his chest proudly upon hearing this, nudging your shoulder. "You hear that? Encore."
However, you didn't share Bucky's excitement. While the client may have admired your work, you couldn't find any pride in the situation.
Excusing yourself, you stated, "I need to see my mom and Charlotte."
Once you were at a distance, you pulled out your phone and dialed the family lawyer, Cedric. "Cedric, we need to meet."
#########
Back at the Evergreen Estate.
Cedric informed you, "The debt you have to pay is 3 million." You requested him to find out everything about the debt, unwilling to rely solely on Bucky, as you suspected he wasn't giving you the complete picture.
Lighting a cigar, you took a few puffs in silence as Cedric continued. "The first 4 million already got paid with the building that Bucky used as his club."
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That place used to be Rupert's?" Bucky's mention of Rupert profiting suddenly made sense.
Cedric confirmed with a nod. "With 5 jobs done with Barnes, you have completed 2. That means only 3 are left."
Leaning back in your leather chair, you tapped your fingers thoughtfully. "I don't want to finish the rest. I'll just give him the money. But I also don't want to use the money from savings."
Understanding your dilemma, Cedric pondered briefly before suggesting, "Selling the assets will take a while since the deadline to pay the debts is near. What about selling an artwork?"
His suggestion lightened your burden slightly. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, you inquired, "What artwork does Rupert have?"
Cedric's response was impressive. "One of a kind. One original artworks by DaVinci, Monet, and Van Gogh. One painting is worth more than 1 million pounds."
You nodded in agreement. "Good. Sell those. But will the transaction be quick?"
Confidently, Cedric nodded. "I know some people."
"Then, get all you need. You can have 10% from each artwork," you decided, showing trust in his abilities.
Cedric hesitated, "Your Grace, are you sure you want to let go of the paintings?"
You shrugged, unaffected. "I do explosions for a living, Cedric. I don't have the sentiment to admire a painting."
With a bow of his head, Cedric accepted your decision and left.
As you watched him depart, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. At least tonight, you could block any calls from Bucky.
##########
For two days, you relished in the tranquility of the countryside, finally having the chance to appreciate the simple joys of life. Breakfast with tea, a luxury you never had time for in your military days, now became a cherished routine as the head of the household.
But your peace was shattered when your mother, Susan, entered with a gloomy expression. “I saw some paintings taken down from the wall. Do you know the reason why, my dear?”
You remained focused on your newspaper, not bothering to look up. “I sold them.”
Susan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Why would you do that? Those masterpieces have adorned this house for years.”
Without lifting your gaze, you replied curtly, “So you’re more concerned about the paintings than paying off our debt?”
A heavy silence filled the room.
Flipping the newspaper page, you continued, “I’m the head of this household now, and I have full rights to do as I please, Mother. I refuse to be burdened by debts while you stand idly by.”
You added, a hint of frustration in your tone, “It’s better to sell the paintings than to risk losing the house, don’t you think?”
Susan gasped, taken aback by your audacity. She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room.
The tension lingered in the air, but you remained resolute in your decision, knowing it was necessary for your family's survival.
While the butler of the house remained stoic, devoid of any emotion like you, he asked, “Do you want a cup of coffee, Your Grace?”
You replied, “Yes, please. That would be great.”
The bitterness of the coffee offered a temporary escape from the turmoil caused by your childish mother.
But it seemed the universe had other plans, denying you the chance to find peace. You heard a familiar voice, the harbinger of your nightmares. “Make it two, please.”
Bucky entered with his usual high energy, greeting, “Good morning.”
Without awaiting your permission, he took a seat beside you. “So, last night someone came to my club and brought a briefcase with 3 million pounds inside. It's to pay off Rupert’s debt.”
You took a sip of the coffee. “Yes, that means our association has ended.”
Bucky's expression softened. “First of all, thank you for settling the debt on time. But it pains me to lose a friend.”
You retorted, “Find another one.”
Bucky sighed. “Don't want to. You're one of a kind.”
You acknowledged his compliment but remained firm. “I appreciate your words, but I have no desire to utilize my expertise in such a manner again.”
Bucky nodded understandingly. “Alright, I understand. But I don't want our friendship to end. And we're also business partners.”
He raised his coffee cup, proposing a toast. “To our new beginning.”
You pushed aside your coffee cup, the porcelain clinking against the saucer, echoing the heavy tension in the room. Every visit from Bucky seemed to herald trouble, and today was no exception. "Every time you come here, you bring bad news."
Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an underlying tension in his posture, a sense of unease that matched your own. "Not this time," he insisted, but his words did little to assuage the growing apprehension in the air.
"Hmm." Your response was clipped, your mind already racing with dread-filled possibilities.
'Ring.' It was Eddie.
The sudden intrusion of the ringing phone shattered the fragile calm, jolting you and Bucky out of your uneasy silence. You answered, your hand trembling ever so slightly. "Hello?"
"I've got bad news."
The words from Eddie on the other end of the line felt like a confirmation of your worst fears. The room seemed to constrict around you, the air growing heavy with tension.
"What is it?" Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the anxiety that clenched at your chest.
"Charles. He got into a problem with the wrong people."
Your heart sank. The implications of Eddie's words hit you like a physical blow, sending a shiver of fear down your spine.
"How bad is it?" You struggled to maintain composure, but the panic threatened to overwhelm you.
"He's tangled up with a cocaine syndicate."
"Oh no." The words escaped your lips in a hushed whisper, laden with fear and dread.
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I think I saw you shared a list of books you’d read a couple years ago and was it you who read something like 350+ books in a single year? If so that’s absolutely remarkable and I’d love to see a list of top ten (or twenty or whatever number) of books you’ve read this year that you recommend
Don't be ridiculous, I only read 303 books in 2021! That's much more reasonable than 350. And I've read fewer and fewer each year since---this year I don't think I'm going to crack 50, though I still have a couple days.
Still, always happy to talk about what I enjoyed. Books are listed in vaguely chronological order, though I make no promises.
Patricia Wants to Cuddle, Samantha Allen
I've mentioned this book before, but essentially I put in the library request solely for the improbability of the premise---The Bachelor heads to the PNW and encounters Bigfoot? Fortunately, it delivered on that promise magnificently. A breezy and delightfully gruesome little novel with a bodycount.
Are You My Mother?, Alison Bechdel
I didn't viscerally connect with this one as much as "Fun Home" but I think it might be because it's…closer to the bone for me. When Bechdel writes about the longing for a mother that can't be answered, pulling back, pleasing, an anger that becomes unspeakable, re-routed to anxiety…it's uh. well it's churned up the silt, let's put it that way.
Greener Pastures, Michael Wehunt
I love short stories, but finding those authors who hit the right notes unerringly, in such a brief space, can be tricky sometimes. Wehunt is the rare exception, strange and unique as a writer, dream-like in his descriptions and images. "October Film Haunt: Under the House" was my favorite, though I can't say for sure whether it's because I recognized the framing device or it was just fun to read…
Running with Scissors, A Wolf at the Table, Lust & Wonder, Augusten Burroughs
I read these out of order (Lust & Wonder first, then the other two) but even so, I was wildly impressed. Lust & Wonder was a revelation; I stumbled on it in the library and walked out with it the same day. No wonder people tell you to read his books, he's got such a clear-eyed meanness, an interesting sort of canniness to his depiction of himself, the people in his life…it really does demonstrate that there is no such thing as a boring life, just a boring narrator.
But if Lust & Wonder is Burroughs at the height of his power, Running with Scissors and Wolf at the Table are the necessary steps up to it. More unfinished, more raw---a litany of horrors, not even leavened by that same canny, mean humor that flashes through L&W. It's just horrifically sad to watch every person around this kid fail him, leave, or both; terrifying and unexpectedly funny and yet tender as a sucking wound.
The Princess Bride, William Goldman
I picked this up entirely by chance and ended up being deeply charmed. I don't know what I was expecting---well, no, that's not true, I was expecting the film. But what I got instead was something almost real, pleasantly rough around the edges as Goldman's caustic narration winds its way from Florin to the machinations of S. Morgenstern's lawyers, to his struggles with raising his son. (One of the funniest scenes was when he goes to meet S. Morgenstern's lawyer, and the ravishingly beautiful attorney becomes a horrible old hag the more she talks about how he won't be granted a license.)
I was afraid the book would be twee, but at the center of it is a pure (if slightly embarrassing, but truth generally is outside of Florin) love of stories, and wanting stories told.
In the Woods, The Likeness, Broken Harbor, Tana French
As I've said before, I started reading this series because I was traveling to Ireland and thought it seemed appropriate. I didn't go too deep into French's oeuvre, mostly because I couldn't shake wanting the books to be urban fantasy rather than gripping psychological portraits with a decidedly noir sensibility. Still, the books themselves are taut and fascinating, the portraits they paint of the Dublin Murder Squad (all of whom are staggering, wounded in their own ways) and the blighted, post-Celtic Tiger Ireland, are deeply compelling.
Also, I do still think The Likeness is a perfect answer to The Secret History.
Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century, Kim Fu
There's something truly powerful in a short story that doesn't answer any questions or provide you with any sort of guidance---just walks in and rearranges your photographs so they're slightly off-kilter, leaves you with that destabilization. It's almost spiritual, that sense. In particular, there's a story in the collection about the world's sense of taste disappearing; a woman begins crafting art installations to try and recreate the experience of eating a pear, what your favorite family meal tasted like. Short stories are like that.
Perilous Times, Thomas D. Lee
I was surprised by this one. I know that's how I've described half the books above, but truly, this surprised me---not so much the rising action or plot (there's a sleeping king, knights around a table, a dragon) but I loved the setting so much. The depiction of a slightly-futuristic UK as drowning land sold off for parts; figures like immortal spymaster Marlowe coexisting with reborn Lancelot and Kay; the fay hovering around the edges; and then just….all the factions, the Welsh royalists and men's rights group propped up by military contractors; environmental activists, the references to the hodgepodge that existed in the 4th century AD too. More than anything, the novel conveyed how Britain's always been a place of change, the movement of people and permeable barriers, and that more than anything worked for me.
(Also, it's a small thing but I loved how the Camelot crew translated modern concepts and objects into their language and knowledge of the world. It was always shown as hesitation rather than total shock, and I found it both moving and persuasive.)
A Cup of Salt Tears, Isabel Yap
I read this in a series of speculative novellas, which impressed on me yet again how hard it must be to write novellas. (Last year, one of my least favorite books was a novella; I still think about it with joyful hate.) However, Yap takes care to focus on single, brief narrative, concerns herself solely with the very small yet very significant issue of a woman, her husband, who and how she loves, wrapped up together with a kappa. Excellent, haunting.
Books of 2020 | Books of 2021 | Books of 2022
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"passenger princess" | chapter four
the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana
❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader
❱ wordcount: 3,3k
❱ summary: a ride home
❱ warnings: none
❱ an: could he be any more perfect? y'all, tell me if you have some guesses how this will go on🤭
general m.list + series m.list
🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3
CHAPTER FOUR: STARS
"Come on, I'll give you a ride."
You whirled around to Thranduil, ready to argue that it was far too late considering he had to work the next morning. You'd imposed on him too much already, the kitchen was in a state that would need a deep cleaning and the boys would certainly sleep in.
"You don't have to," you tried as he passed you and grabbed his coat from the counter. "In fact, you shouldn't–"
Pushing his arms through the coat, Thranduil flipped the collar up and sorted his long hair over his shoulder. He seemed unbothered by your protests and continued to slip into his boots. "I forgot something at work that can't wait anyway, so grab your shoes."
Pursing your lips but swallowing the pouty reply you wanted to throw at him for ordering you around, you slipped into your sneakers, glaring at him while hugging Legolas and Gimli, and then Aragorn Goodbye.
Gimli even dared to wink at you, shoving his elbow into your side with a rumbled: "Fun ride"
Naturally, you punched his arm for that.
Your bag shouldered and the phone that continued to light up with messages shoved deep into it, you followed Thranduil out into the surprisingly cold night.
The gravel path leading to the, well, almost mansion, crunched under your footsteps, filling the silence that you yourself didn't know how to break.
Your last conversation didn't offer much transition to normal small talk, and you didn't want it to.
You wanted to be wrapped up in the warm flirt in his voice, in that heated look that he had thrown you as you'd left him in the hallway.
The nerves of the skin he'd touched still fizzled and ached for him to return his hands onto you, an itch that only he could scratch, a burn for him to sooth.
That though, was most definitely not what you would say right now.
But you didn't want to spend the rest of the way in awkward silence, so you resorted to the manners Thranduil valued. Not only because he worked as a lawyer with a very important –rich, conceited, snobbish– clientele, but because he still held onto the hope that some manners would rub off on Legolas.
"Thank you for offering to drive me." You bit your bottom lip through a smile that has him cracking one as well, soft lips breaking up the stern expression his dark eyebrows sometimes gave him.
"Don't," Thranduil shook his head, the movement sending some of the shorter strands framing his face back over his shoulder, "knowing you're home safe gives me a peace of mind. I wouldn't have been able to sleep if you were waiting on some bus right now."
"Well," your cheeks grew hot, "thank you anyway"
Turning to the road you watched your shadows move in sync, the lights of the house falling through the trees lining the way and flittering on the gravel like scattered fireflies.
You saw how his shadow stepped closer, your hands dangling close enough that one small movement would've led to them brushing against each other. The space was small, easily crossed yet it stayed that way for the rest of the walk.
It wasn't the time.
Not right now; nevertheless how fucking close you had been to kissing him in the hallway.
Arriving at his car, he opened the door of the passenger side, your place, as Legolas had once joked.
He had a point because after Thranduil had first picked you up from the bar, he'd come to your rescue many times, and he helped you to the passenger side first each time, as if he wouldn't allow anything else.
You didn't complain.
Sitting next to him allowed you a perfect view of those sharp cheekbones and cutting jawline that your hands itched to cup and draw your fingers along of. Not only that but whenever the whole group was being driven around, you could enjoy the drive without a shoulder nudging yours or a hand reaching over to open a window.
As you sat down, you took notice of the seat setting, namely how it was perfectly adjusted to you.
If Legolas had ever ridden with his father, you always had to pull forward, because Legolas, in addition to his looks, did, of course, inherited Thranduil's incredibly long and enviable legs to tower over everyone else. A gift he constantly misused to kick you, or to rest his arm on your shoulder.
Once seated in the car, you pressed deeper into the fabric of the seat. Even the headrest was perfectly at your height, so you didn't have to do more than place your bag in the foot well.
As Thranduil's door swung open a gust of chilly air rushed into the already cold car, prompting you to roll your shoulders and hug your torso.
Apart from your shirt, you hadn't brought a jacket, considering it had been warm earlier when you stashed your backpack in the dorm after class.
Thranduil folded himself into his seat, his long legs first, and shamelessly you stared at him as he elegantly lowered himself and tossed his hair over his shoulders before pulling the door shut.
Another flood of cold air.
This time Thranduil noticed how your arms wrapped tighter around yourself and without saying much, he turned slightly and reached behind his seat.
"Here," in the silence of his car, his voice sounded even deeper and the warmth in it was almost enough for you when he'd already put something in your lap. "And don't you dare tell me it's not necessary. Not giving you a choice!" he ordered, a teasing smile taking out all the sterness of his tone.
"Thank you," you breathed, unfolding a navy blue sweater, one that had a white deer stitched over the breastbone, and as soon as you pulled it over your head, the world flimmered at its edges, reducing to just the inside of this car.
"It's not washed, but I promise you it's clean."
Which you couldn't care less about, not even a flying fuck was given toward this precious item of clothing that rocked your world and completely spun it out of its axis.
This was his sweater, his clothing that he gave up for you. This happened in dreams, in books and stories and wishes and hopes– not in the real life.
Maybe this was another thing that separated Thranduil from those Fratboys and overmasculine guys that thought the most romantic thing they could do was pop a mint-gum before smashing their mouths onto yours in slobby kisses.
He has years of experience against their lousy teenager moments.
The sweater smelled so much like him and his house, only much stronger. His scent, rich, full of his perfume and him, took over all your senses. The fabric was so damn soft, so warm, so cozy; you were ready to sink into it and never leave.
Literally, because even sitting down, the waistband bunched up in your lap and you would have had to push the sleeves back, but you made yourself comfortable in the way too big sweater.
Thranduil –most likely unintentionally but who knew– seemed to have decided on torturing you in the cruelest way possible, and maneuvred the car one heel of the palm on the steering wheel, and the other conveniently placed behind your headrest, his head angled so that he could watch through the back window instead of the mirror.
That position, arm outstretched, muscles subtly flexing and his prominent jawline close enough that it could cut your held breath in two, did unexplainable things to you.
If anyone asked you would deny that this movement alone had you blushing and your stomach curling, heat rushing through your body over something so simply yet breathtakingly beautiful and assertive.
He caught your gaze quicker than you could have fixed the blown-wide look on your face, the corners of his mouth twitching.
So he did know.
You laughed softly, "Show off."
His grin became sly. "No idea what you're talking about," he murmured, low and deep and very much a lie.
"Besides, there could've been something behind the car, who knows," he said nonchalantly as he steered the car toward the front gate, the black, tall halves that opened for you at the push of a button.
My ass, something behind the car, you thought and coughed to cover up a laugh.
The mansion grew smaller in the rearview mirror, hedges and tall trees framing the white brick facade and gray shingles until the last of the lit up windows was nothing more than a small dot that disappeared after blinking.
There was something special about driving around at night. The lots in the area where Legolas and Thranduil lived were large, as were the houses and the distance between them, and unlike the city, you were the only ones on the streets.
The night was dark, the sky black, like ink and endlessly stained with countless stars that you couldn't see from your dorm room due to the many skyscrapers and their ever-shining lights. At your place, it was loud and bright, and you leaned back in your seat to watch the sky through the window in front of you.
There was no one else on the road, not this time of night, not in a neighborhood where most didn't even need to work much: no headlights, no cars, no one else but Thranduil and you.
Where that awareness would've brought a subtle panic and anxiety with it a while ago, there was tranquility instead.
All worries about the crush you harbored for Thranduil and how he could find out were replaced, softened up by the memory of his hands on your body, that damn painting burying itself into your back and the sharp edges reminding you that this had been very much real.
This was very much real.
"You're thinking very loudly."
You turned your head, furrowing your brows at Thranduil, "Am not."
He scoffed. "No, darling, you most definitely are. I have never met anyone who is that bad at keeping a straight face." Thranduil switched the lanes, this time checking the mirror and meeting your gaze in it, "Next time we play poker, please remind me to bet on your cards."
Huffing and rolling your eyes you did what any other adult in your position would do, and stuck your tongue out at him. "Maybe I won't play poker with you anymore, how 'bout that?"
"What's your other option? Legolas is good but honestly- the boy would throw his cards away for Aragorn," Thranduil mused and when you laughed he raised his thick eyebrows once, "It's me or Gimli, sweetheart."
You didn't even need to think back to the last poker game you'd played with Gimli, that was too far away and this evening's endless round of Monopoly sufficed generous arguments against him as well. Why you've ever thought it was a great idea to play any competitive game against the most thick-headed people was a mystery on its own.
Another shudder ran through you then, but not because of the cold– the sweater provided so much warmth and your cheeks burned from smiling so much, but rather because your mind did in fact remind you of the faithful poker night. The most chaotic one in the history of poker games.
"Oh," you exhaled a deep breath.
Thranduil's head turned and you made a point of looking thoroughly distressed.
"I don't think I'll ever recover from the awful talk I had with Professor Gandalf." Your whole body shudders just like then, transporting you back to the awkward shuffling around, the stuttering and the many, many, many excuses you'd babbled.
"It couldn't have been that bad," Thranduil said and then, tilting his head as you slowly shook your head, he added an unsure: "Right?"
"Thranduil," you stared at him, barely noticing how the corner of his eyes crinkled at his name out of your mouth, "Thranduil– I was piss-drunk and sent my 70.. or hell, 80-something Professor an E-Mail…at three in the morning. With just a winky smiley!" Your voice had taken on a desperate edge at the end, cutting it close to such a high pitch that you fell breathless into the seat.
All the while Thranduils laughter grew and grew until he gasped for air, his one hand swatting dramatically in front of him. "Mhm.. oh yes, I'll never get tired of hearing it," he giggled, a sound that did not fit the first impression most people got of him.
"Yeah you can laugh all you want," you tried to come across as stern though failed miserably at the sight and sound of Thranduil chuckling. He made it impossible to do anything else but smile. "Jeez, thank god the old man found it funny as well. I think I would've died if I'd sent it to Professor Sauron instead. He hates me."
Thranduil opened his mouth, then closed it again.
A bit quieter than you expected he started again after a while: "This may be delusional since my line of work shows me the worst of people, sides you wouldn't think exist, but I think that you are the loveliest woman I've ever met. That Professor must be out of his mind to hate someone as clever, beautiful, and magnificent as you."
Those words, coming out of his mouth shot you straight into the heart, hollowing out that pit in your stomach and filling it endlessly with messy butterflies and fireworks in such an overtaking force you couldn't find it in you to answer.
You knew he liked you, or at least appreciated your presence.
You had felt it earlier, had seen in his eyes that he was interested and oh– that this picture-perfect specimen of a man would look at you like that was more than you could want.
It had been such a far-fetched wish that there would be anything else except this lust that hearing him compliment you, raising you to a pedestal you never dared to dream about, was astounding and unfathomable.
Thankfully, Thranduil put you out of the misery of searching for something equally important to retort.
He reached over to rest his hand on your thigh, calming the slight bouncing you'd fallen into. "I know it's nothing like Legolas poetic words."
The heavy air that had taken hold of you lifted as you let out a breathy laugh. "He's an idiot. Took after you, am I right?" you teased and slightly flicked a finger against the soft skin of his hand.
You didn't know what led to that sudden contact, one he mostly initiated wherelse you didn't dare to act upon more than friendly handshakes or brushing his fingers while passing the butter or salatbowl.
He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, "When they grew him in the lab I made sure to tell them to crank the dumbass level high enough as to not let an identical version of myself get loose on the world."
You pretended to frown, sizing him up and down, "Surely they should have added less then."
The disgruntled snort coincided precisely with a playful tap against your thigh, a swift movement you couldn't have defended against. The moment his hand made contact with the outer part of your leg, you heard the smack, felt the entirely harmless and certainly not painful pull, and your jaw dropped as you stared at Thranduil.
"You didn't just do that!"
"What?" Thranduil blinked innocently at you.
"Ohh, how dare you pull off the eyebrow thing."
"What eyebrow thing?"
"You know," you raised a hand and gestured towards his entire face, which now turned back to the street with a far too sly grin. "That thing you do. You raise those thick eyebrows and open your eyes wider like you're patronizing me and act all virtuous at the same time."
"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said and did exactly what you'd just explained.
You simply glared at him and flicked his thigh as well.
The car turned, departing from the serene country road to navigate through the sparse traffic of the city streets.
Instead of stars, blinkers and billboards now raced past the window, casting their bright lights on you and immersing you in a cascade of brightness that prompted you to blink a few times.
Previously, where it had been just you, Thranduil, and the hum of the engine, you hadn't realized how comforting those few sounds were. As Thranduil drove along the main street, more focused and enveloped in the watercolor hues of the city, you almost asked him to turn around again.
A yawn overtook you just as you wanted to reply to his compliment from before, feeling slightly dazed by the atmosphere, cutting you off just as you said his name.
"Oh god," you mumbled and checked the display for the time, "How can it be two already?" Unconsciously you cuddled the sweater, burring your nose in the seam while fighting another yawn.
Thranduil turned his head and a soft smile played his lips. "Nearly there, sweetheart. When do you have to be up again?"
You groaned, rubbing a hand over your eyes, "Eight? I think… maybe eight thirty if I skip breakfast and rush straight to uni." He tilted his head and you shrugged, "Eight fifteen and a small breakfast?"
Satisfied he nodded. "Better."
It was such a small thing that he cared about, though the heat rushed into your cheeks all the same.
He parked the car right in front of the dorm complex and after peeling yourself out of the comfortable warmth he led you to the main entrance.
Not wanting this night to end, you took your time searching inside your purse for the keys, fumbling around and pushing some mints and loose papers back and forth until you couldn't drag it out any longer, and then some more finding the right one.
Thranduil waited patiently, leaning against the brick wall, the headlights of cars washing his ivory skin silver.
"So," you said as you couldn't drag the goodbye out any longer.
"So," he repeated.
Standing together in the small alcove of the entrance felt more confined with the tension between you, drawing you closer to him.
Tilting your chin towards the ground, you looked up at him through half-closed, weary lids. "Thank you again. For driving... and thank you for what you said. It.. that whole speech, y'know? That means a lot to hear it and like especially from you."
Thranduil smiled. "Anything for you," he whispered.
Then, he withdrew his hand from his coat pocket. Your eyes followed as he approached your face, his fingertips gliding over your temple, following the curve of your eyebrow until he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and cupped the back of your neck.
Yielding to the gentle pressure, you let yourself fall into the embrace he pulled you into. His coat cascaded down your sides, brushing against your knees pressed against his, and as he rested his chin on your head, you couldn't help but sigh contentedly.
Even though you stood there, fully clothed in street attire and the entrance of your home, it was as close as you could imagine to falling asleep with him. And you nearly did.
"Goodnight, darling." His words were nothing more than a whisper, rough and muttered into your hairline, but you still beamed, your face pressed against his chest.
"Goodnight, Thranduil."
"Oh, wait–" you stepped back, realizing your still wearing that sweater, hands already on the hem, "here"
Large hands covered yours before you get to pull it off, stopping you with a gently push.
"Keep it. You wear it better than me."
He paused, breathing in and out as if to assure himself that whatever he thought was what he wanted to say. "Keep you thinking of me while you get some sleep."
You're nothing but a blushing mess as you quickly hurried up the staircase to find your roommate on the stairs, typing on her phone and sparing you one lousy "Thanks" that you ignore to rush into the silent apartment.
You didn't even turn on the light in your room but went straight to your window, facing the street. What usually bothered you turned out to be incredibly practical because you could wave to Thranduil one last time.
As always, he had been waiting next to his car, his gaze directed up to your window, and only when he saw you behind the glass did he get in.
However, he didn't continue straight to his firm; his car turned on the street, taking the same direction you came from. Towards his home.
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#📁files: passenger princess#thranduil x reader#lotr x reader#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit x reader#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil x you#lord of the rings fanfiction#lord of the rings x reader#lotr fanfiction#Thranduil#modern au
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Chapter XXI
Summary: Lloyd is disturbed when Princess has another close call. He struggles with his feelings before having an epiphany about their relationship.
Word Count: 6,839
Masterlist
Warnings: 18+ readers only. Smut, erotica level explicitness, use of nipple clamps, allusions of impact play (Lloyd threatens to spank Princess), semi-rough sex. Criminal elements including stalking, domestic violence, and murder. Major health scare requiring an emergency room visit.
Chapter XXII
You stepped out of the police station and into blinding sunlight. The moment the sun hit your eyes it felt like a thousand needles being stabbed in your retinas. You dug in your purse for a pair of sunglasses. The gradient style lenses weren’t dark enough to provide sufficient shade, so you shielded them with your hand as you scanned the parking lot. Refracted light from Jake’s glossy white Toyota 4Runner hurt your eyes, even though it was idling in the shade, under the porte-cochère.
You climbed in, hoping the vehicle’s dark windows would block the sun. Instead, the reflection off the hood was so bright that your eyes watered. With a hiss, you flipped the visor down.
Jake raised an eyebrow. “Rough day?”
“Not really, we had a great interview with Aliyah this morning, but I started getting a headache after lunch. My eyes are killing me.”
“Do you want to stop by the pharmacy?”
“I’d kill for some ibuprofen.”
In CVS, the pain relief aisle was completely stocked with everything - except ibuprofen.
Jake peered over your shoulder. “Should we try another store?”
“No. I’ll just grab something else.”
You picked up a box of Excedrin that proclaimed itself ‘extra-strength’ and flipped it over to study the label.
“What are you looking for?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know. My mother hates this stuff, she always takes ibuprofen.”
On the walk back to the car you swallowed two tablets and found that you were grateful for Jake’s presence. Since the incident in his backyard Lloyd had decided it was too risky for you to be alone anywhere that wasn’t secure. Outside of his cabin, the only places that met his security standards were the police station in Harmony and his office at Bishop & Howard. Lloyd had taken to dropping you off at the station in the mornings. In the afternoons one of the guys would drive you back to the office and deliver you directly to Lloyd’s office.
You’d agreed to the arrangement without hesitation because it was the logical, prudent course of action. Even so, you couldn’t help resenting that your freedom had been so harshly curtailed. The stalker had made you dependent on others in a way you’d never experienced before and hoped to never experience again. The rotation of bodyguards driving you back and forth between the police station and the office made you feel like a child caught in the middle of a complicated custody dispute.
Jake glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.
“Maybe we should stop by the emergency room,” he said. “You had a concussion recently and-”
“No. I’m fine. This is just a tension headache.”
You adjusted your sunglasses and tried to blink away the spots that danced in front of your eyes. Jake was still trying to persuade you to go to the ER when your throat started to ache, and then the ache became an itch. The itch spread slowly, like a persistent whisper of discomfort until you coughed and wheezed.
Your lips started tingling.
“Jake? I think… maybe we should go to the hospital.”
- - -
Six minutes later, you crossed the threshold of the Forest View Hospital emergency room. You were leaning heavily on Jake and choking on air instead of inhaling it. Your airway had constricted to a terrifyingly narrow passage that seemed to contract even further with each passing second. One look at you and the triage nurse was out of her chair. She guided you to a wheelchair while quizzing Jake about peanuts and shellfish… there was more, but your ears were ringing and you didn’t catch the rest.
A second later, a man in a white coat shoved a needle in your thigh. The injection stung, but the relief was so intense you could’ve kissed him. As the medicine coursed through your veins the feeling of suffocation gradually eased. The man in the white coat took a stethoscope and listened to your breathing.
“Not too bad,” he announced. “But we’ll need to keep you in observation for a while. I administered epinephrine to counter your allergic reaction. Can you tell me about any food or drugs you’ve consumed in the past few hours?”
You were still catching your breath, so Jake stepped forward. “She took an Excedrin about twenty minutes ago.”
Navy blue embroidery on the breast pocket of his white coat proclaimed the man as: Kennedy Knox, M.D., MSc; under his name were the words ‘Family Medicine.’ His nose was slightly crooked and he’d chosen a daring color for his footwear - the neon purple running shoes clashed with his burgundy scrubs.
Jake’s phone rang and he stepped around the curtain to answer it.
Dr. Knox noticed you were shivering and brought you a warm blanket from a glass cabinet before sitting down to take your medical history. Your voice was scratchy, but you managed to answer.
He finished typing and clicked back through his note, scanning the text. “It seems like you might have a sensitivity to aspirin. You said your mother avoids it?”
“She only uses ibuprofen and tylenol,” you confirmed.
“I’m almost certain anaphylaxis was triggered by aspirin, but until you can be tested by an allergist, avoid NSAIDs altogether. I’ll write you a referral.”
He typed another few lines into your chart.
“I see that you suffered a concussion last week?” Dr. Knox said.
“Yeah, I hit my head after getting out of the pool.”
“The Excedrin was for a headache… have you had problems with them since the injury?”
“Just today. The light started bothering me after lunch. By the time I got off work, it was a full-blown tension headache.”
Dr. Knox nodded. “Post-concussive headaches can feel a lot like tension headaches.”
He asked a few more questions and did a palpitation of your neck before picking up his prescription pad.
“Here, you can fill this at any pharmacy in the area…”
Sloppy handwriting on the note read: Pick up some very, very dark sunglasses, ASAP!
You giggled.
Knox winked.
“Doctor’s orders. They’re a must-have accessory for any fashionable concussion survivor. Think of it like wearing a scarf in Alaska.”
“I can get behind a prescription like this,” you said.
He chuckled. “Take care, and remember - no more Excedrin, no aspirin, and always read medications labels from now on.”
After signing the discharge papers you made your way down the hall. Your knees were still shaky but you could breathe. You continued until the sterile hospital atmosphere gave way to the softer, earth-toned decor of the waiting room.
Jake was standing beside Lloyd.
When your gaze clashed with Lloyd’s you almost stopped short. He looked furious, but then you noticed the wrinkle in his chin, a feature that only appeared when he was concerned. His pale eyes were like flint. You crossed to them and he opened his arms, enveloping you in a tight embrace. The weight of his hand smoothing down your back lulled you into relaxation and you wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your head on his shoulder.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Turns out I might be allergic to Aspirin.”
Lloyd sighed and squeezed your waist. His next words were directed to Jake.
“Thank you for taking care of her.”
“Don’t mention it.”
You were so exhausted that you didn’t bother listening to the rest of their conversation. It only lasted a minute or so. The whole time, Lloyd’s arms were snug around your waist and the warmth of his body seeped into yours, helping ease the residual shakiness from the epinephrine. Soon, Jake’s footsteps faded away, but Lloyd’s hold on you still didn’t relax. His hand kept stroking up and down your back. You yawned.
“Let’s get you home,” Lloyd murmured.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He was anxious. It was an unusual condition for Lloyd, so the emotion struck him like a foreign disease, a pathogen that his immune system hadn’t been exposed to enough to mount an effective defense against. His skin prickled with hyper-awareness, his shoulder muscles were rigid and tension had gnawed a hole in the pit of his stomach.
You were asleep. He’d loaned you his jacket and you’d nestled into the makeshift pillow and nodded off just a few minutes into the drive. Lloyd snuck a glance at you, his lips compressing into a scowl. This was the second time in the space of ten days that he’d nearly lost you. His fingers clenched on the steering wheel. Wasn’t having a stalker enough? Did you need to have a life-threatening undiagnosed allergy, too?
When he pulled up to the cabin the sun was setting. You didn’t stir when he unbuckled you, so he rounded the vehicle and lifted you into his arms. Navigating the security system keypad and undoing the multiple locks on the front door with you in his arms was challenging, but he managed. By some miracle, your breathing was still deep and even when he laid you on the bed. He removed your shoes, covered you with a throw blanket and settled into the armchair by the window.
Anxiety continued to simmer in his blood. Lloyd did the breathing exercises Dr. Blair had taught him and stared out the window. He wished Nguyen would show his face. There was only one thing that would ease his mind, and it wasn’t breathing exercises.
Lloyd allowed his thoughts to turn toward violent imaginations. A normal person would’ve been horrified by the what ran through his head, but to him cruelty was the height of banality. It was something he’d been born into, a force that shaped his childhood, and then patterned his future. Violent ideas circulated in his mind without sparking the slightest flicker of emotional distress. Accountants had more passion for cash flow strategy than Lloyd did for his plans to end Shun Nguyen’s life.
It wasn’t long before his thoughts turned to more pressing issues.
He had to tell you that Nguyen was your stalker. It was his responsibility. Telling you was necessary and keeping the truth from you was wrong - he understood that very clearly. Lloyd’s teeth ground as he anticipated the impending conversation and wondered why it made him feel so awful. When had he become such a coward? As friends your communication had been seamless, but now that he was your lover, things had shifted.
You weren’t expressing yourself as freely. When you’d just been friends, you’d expressed your thoughts without hesitation, but over the past couple months, that had faded. Lloyd frowned. Why? What had prompted the breakdown in communication?
A soft groan from the bed interrupted his ponderings. You sighed, stretching, then squinted into the darkness.
“Lloyd? What time is it?”
“Just after seven-thirty.”
He crossed to the bed and sat down beside you, smoothing a hand over your hair.
“Did you sleep well?”
You adjusted the pillow. “Mmhmm.”
The words to begin the necessary conversation were right on the tip of his tongue, but then your arms curled around his neck. Lloyd was drawn into your arms and at the press of your lips, all his carefully organized thoughts scattered. His hands framed your face, thumbs sliding under your jaw to tilt your chin up. The kiss started out light, a brushing of lips, and steadily increased in pressure. When he pulled away, your eyes were dilated and you were both breathing raggedly.
“I’ve missed doing that,” you murmured, touching your swollen lips.
Lloyd groaned and kissed you deeply, enjoying your enthusiastic response. He gripped the back of your neck and held you still for a long, tender kiss, sliding his tongue against yours, then flicking and teasing, until he was rewarded by a delicate whimper of need. You gripped his shoulders and he sighed, contentment banishing the anxiety that had been riding him for the past few hours.
You mumbled something against his lips that he didn’t quite catch, but the demanding tone was clear enough. He slid his hands down from your face and gripped your waist, rubbing and squeezing at your hips in a gentle massage before moving to cradle your breasts. The distinct texture of lace was palpable through your thin blouse. He could tell it was an unlined bra by the way your puckered nipple stabbed into his palm.
You shivered and arched against his hand as you tugged him closer. Lloyd swept his thumbs over your nipples and was rewarded with a breathy moan and a delicious tremor. He groaned and allowed you to pull him down to the bed and rolled so that he was on top, straddling your hips.
His mouth never left yours. The kisses were hungry and charged with desperate need. When you began clawing at the buttons on his shirt, he undid them. Your hand sank into his chest hair, fingers twining into the sparse dusting with a purr of delight. Meanwhile, he found the fastening of your skirt, unclipped it and peeled down the zipper to access the hem of your blouse and yank it over your head.
When he saw the lacy purple bra with the front closure, he growled. You reached for the clasp but he batted your hand away.
“No.”
Your protest was silenced with a kiss and when you tried for the clasp again, he caught your wrists and raised them above your head. You whined in protest when he pinned you down, but the complaint was cut off when his tongue shoved into your mouth. He teased you with a series of thrusts and parries that elicited a soft chorus of whimpers and cries for him to enjoy before he shifted to a one handed grip on your wrists and slid his fingers under the lacy bra cups and stroked your taunt nipples.
“Oooohhh…”
Lloyd smirked. “Sensitive, Princess?”
He could feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. You moaned and arched when he scissored his fingers to pinch your nipple with his index and middle finger, squeezing until you gasped. Lloyd crushed his lips to yours as you undulated against him. He kissed you long and hard until you turned your head, breaking the kiss.
“Please, Lloyd, please…”
“You like it fast, don’t you, baby?”
You whined, struggling against his restraining grip. “Please…”
Lloyd chuckled. “If I let you go, you’ll start trying to undress me.”
Your pupils were blown wide and your lips were swollen from his rough kisses. Lloyd brushed his mouth lightly over yours. His smirk widened when you shuddered.
“Fuck me,” you whispered, breathless.
“Princess…” the hunger in your voice broke his self-control.
He released your wrists and unbuckled his belt. You squirmed underneath him, wiggling out of your skirt. By the time he’d gotten rid of his pants you were rolling down your thigh high stockings.
Lloyd hissed. “No, leave them on. Take off your panties unless you want me to rip them off.”
You obeyed and the second your panties were off, Lloyd moved between your legs, pressing himself against you, separated only by the thin barrier of his boxers. He felt your wetness seep through the silk and groaned.
“More, Lloyd. I need…”
He unfastened your bra and pushed it open, tweaking a pert nipple and squeezing the other breast. Your eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering as he bent to suckle at your tit. When you thrashed under him, he used his weight to hold you down as he tended to your breast. When you screamed in frustration he nipped your skin and ground his erection into your core. He could feel the scorching heat and his dick twitched, anticipating how good you’d feel wrapped around him.
“I need you inside me,” you pleaded.
“Yeah? How bad, Princess? Does it ache? Are you throbbing for me?”
You tossed your head back, making a noise that was part scream, part wail, and gyrated against him, trying to find relief.
“Someone’s naughty tonight, aren’t they? You know I’m the one who sets the pace in the bedroom, Princess. We need to work on your patience.”
You snarled, a startlingly realistic sound. Lloyd laughed and nuzzled your breasts, kissing each nipple, satisfying himself with a final suckle on each of the puckered little buds. They were still wet from his saliva but he continued to take his time and draw out your torment, enjoying the way you writhed and begged for more in disjointed, nearly unintelligible sentences.
“Fucking hell, baby. Your breasts are sensitive, aren’t they? Your pussy is gushing, you’re getting my nice silk boxers all sticky.”
You moaned, the sound faint, but raw. He recognized the pitch and knew you were getting close.
“I bet you could come just from this,” Lloyd mused, tracing the delicate tip of your breast with his tongue.
“Lloyd! Fuck, damn it…” you squirmed and fought his restraining grip.
He countered your struggles by shifting his weight to put more pressure on your hips, immobilizing you completely.
“You’re in a naughty mood tonight, Princess. I bet that aching pussy’s to blame. Ten minutes of me working on your nipples and you’re acting like an entitled brat. Let’s see what state you’re in after twenty…”
“I want you inside of me, please, please…!”
His cock thickened at your desperate cry. “You want my dick, baby?”
“Fuck me, Lloyd. I need you so bad.”
He moved his hand down to your center and stroked the delicate skin of your inner thighs, making you shiver.
“Hmmm… your thighs aren’t trembling yet. I love it when they do that. What if I gave you my fingers, Princess?”
Lloyd released your wrists and eased back, this time using both hands to caress your thighs. You keened when he ghosted his thumbs over the outer lips of your pussy and slipped them inside to spread you open, exposing your sex to his gaze.
“Let’s try that before I give you my dick, yeah? A nice round of fingering to get you warmed up?”
“I’m… warmed… up… damn it!” you were panting as he teased your clit.
He didn’t touch it directly, but took advantage of knowing the underside of your clit was your most sensitive area and stroked the vulnerable spot.
“I can see that, Princess. Your clit’s nice and puffy from grinding on my boxers, getting ‘em all messy with your pussy juice.”
He slid down to lay flat on the mattress and lowered his head to your core. For a moment, he just breathed on your clit and watched you tremble in excitement. Lloyd licked his lips, imagining the sharp flavor of you, tart and tangy on his tongue. You were sobbing, asking him to fuck you, to use his fingers, to give you his cock. It was music to his ears.
There was nothing hotter than the breathless cries of a woman desperate for pleasure. He closed his eyes and sealed his lips around your clit, listening to the sounds you made, allowing them to direct him. You were gasping, offering strained whimpers, choked moans that dissolved into senseless babble, which told him you were really, really close. When he heard the urgent litany of cries, he released your clit. You screamed and twisted as your hips chased the pleasure he’d taken away. Lloyd pinned you down with both hands, forcing you to be still.
“I thought you wanted dick, Princess? Do you? Or do you want to come on my tongue?”
Your response was incoherent. Taking pity on you, he slid a finger in your pussy. When the powerful muscles clenched around the digit, his balls tightened.
“Fuck, that’s hot. Literally - your pussy’s burning up, sweetheart. It’s throbbing already and trying to suck me in deep. Ah… good girl. That’s it. Spread your legs.”
He inserted a second finger and watched as your face creased with pleasure. You were so wet that he had no qualms about adding a third finger. The soft, spongy walls stretched to accommodate him and you keened.
“Open your eyes, Princess. Look at how good you’re taking my fingers. Your pussy’s so soft for me, fucking welcoming, isn’t she? Watch.”
Lloyd adjusted the angle, reaching past your g-spot, and probing for the deep area that would make your toes curl. The effect was instant - your breath caught, air hissed out of your lungs, and your thighs trembled. His cock was leaking in his boxers and his balls were aching, but the sight, the sounds, they were too good for him to heed the demands of his body.
He eased his fingers lower and teased your g-spot. When you were shivering, right on the brink of release, he shoved the digits deep, returning to the spot that affected you so intensely, mixing up the pleasure points so that you couldn’t get off. He was amazed at how receptive you were to the deep penetration.
Your expression was one of utter bliss, with your lips parted on a needy whine, your eyelids half-closed, and your forehead creased in rapture. When he retreated to stroke your g-spot some more your legs jerked, trying to close and protect the vulnerable area.
“Ah, ah… Princess. Naughty. Bad girl, you keep those knees apart or I’ll spank you.”
“S-s-sorry,” you gasped, tears streaming down your cheeks.
He rubbed your inner thigh, loving the way your muscles quivered under his fingers. It echoed the frantic clenching of your pussy. His thumb teased your clit and you shrieked, throwing your head back and bracing your arms behind you as your back arched off the bed. Lloyd pressed harder, rubbing your clit in firm circles. As he expected, your thighs seized, trying to push him away as the pleasure became overwhelming. He pressed your knee down and forced your legs to remain open.
You screamed, bucking against his hand. He was relentless. Your arms gave way and you crumpled to the bed, falling flat on your back.
“What���s wrong baby? Can’t handle my fingers? Do you want me to stop?”
“No! No, no, please, please, Lloyd!”
He kissed you fiercely, then eased into a slower tempo, gentling the kiss. You whimpered and clawed at his shoulders in a silent request for more. When he broke away, your eyes were filled with tears and wet tracks marred your cheeks. He kissed them and murmured.
“Poor baby. Can’t get off from me sucking your nipples, couldn’t come when I suckled your puffy little clit, and now you’re running away from my fingers. I don’t think you really want to come…”
“Please, I need you inside of me. Fuck me, damn it!”
He groaned, cock twitching, and rubbed your hip to soothe you.
“Are you gonna keep your legs open, Princess? Or will I have to take you over my knee?”
“Lloyd, don’t tease me, I can’t take anymore. I need you now. Right now!”
You broke down in tears and he drew you to his chest, kissing you as you sobbed.
“Okay, okay, it’s okay, Princess. I won’t tease you anymore.” He squeezed the fleshy part of your inner thigh. “Turn around, get on your hands and knees, and put your ass in the air.”
You scrambled to obey, going on all fours and positioning yourself like he’d requested - almost.
“I told you to put your ass in the air,” Lloyd said.
“It is!”
He realized you hadn’t understood the request. Moving behind you, he cupped your breasts and pinched your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger. You pushed your hips back into his, whining. Lloyd tugged on your nipples, pulling them. You gasped and arched, lowering your chest to ease the sting. He used your nipples to guide your chest to the bed.
“That’s it,” he praised. “Put your ass up, honey. Just like that. Stretch your arms out. Reach toward the headboard.”
When you moved, your chest came off the bed. Lloyd pressed his palm between your shoulder blades and growled, “Princess…”
“What?!”
Your ass lowered and he jerked it back into position.
“Chest down, ass up,” he growled. “You stay just like this, or you’ll have a sore ass and raw nipples tomorrow morning.”
To emphasize the point, he smacked your ass lightly. You raised your hips and lowered your chest into the correct form. Lloyd traced the curve of your spine and admired the deep arch of your back.
“Now, how hard was that? Not too bad, huh? It’s easy to be a good girl. All you need to do is hold this position, sweetheart. I’ll do all the work.”
He dipped his fingers in your sex, circling your g-spot, and then sank the digits as far as he could reach. Your back arched into an even lower position at the sensation and he knew you were ready.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Lloyd’s threat of giving you a sore ass and raw nipples echoed in your mind. You knew exactly what he meant by the latter because the other night you’d opened his nightstand drawer to borrow some lip balm and found the toys.
A bullet vibrator and a thick, curved stainless steel rod that you’d had to examine before realizing it was a dildo, were inside. In a small wooden box behind them, you’d found an anal plug and a fancy pair of nipple clamps. You’d slammed the drawer shut and forgotten all about borrowing his lip balm. Though you’d tried to put the matter out of your head, the nipple clamps had ignited your curiosity. You’d been wondering what they’d feel like for the past twenty-four hours.
Lloyd rubbed your lower back as he lined up your bodies. The broad head of his cock breached your opening, easily parting the slick, delicate tissues. His thrusts were slow as he invaded you inch by inch, making sure you could feel every ridge and vein. Even though you were soaked, the stretch was intense. Every part of your body was pulsating with need until the lust was a force of its own. When Lloyd eased back, you pressed your elbows into the mattress and rocked against him. His hands tightened on your waist, hips forcing you to stop.
“Lloyd,” you whimpered.
“I told you, Princess. Chest down, ass up, stay. Your chest isn’t down, is it?”
You groaned, feeling the heavy crest of his erection drag against your insides as he pulled out until just the tip was left.
“It’s not hard, is it, Princess?”
“Lloyd… don’t stop!”
You lowered your chest and extended your arms, assuming the correct position.
He leaned forward, and for a moment you thought he was going to use his body weight to pin you down, but he grabbed the handle of the nightstand drawer.
“You’re being a bad girl again. I warned you, Princess.”
You moaned at the sight of the silver nipple clamps, connected by a thin chain. Lloyd hauled you up and drew your back flush against his chest. He nuzzled your neck and rubbed the cool metal over your nipple, letting you feel it.
“What do you think, Princess? Do you want to try something new?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?” Lloyd murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.
“I want to try it.”
He squeezed your breast and guided the clamp over the nipple, opening the claw and teasing you. Goosebumps rose on your arms.
“Ready, Princess?”
You nodded and the clamp snapped shut. Pain raced straight to your core and you both groaned at the clench of your pussy.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“It hurts!”
“Good.”
When he lifted your other breast, rolling your the puckered nipple to prepare it for its punishment, you assumed you knew what was coming. However, instead of a sharp sting, this clamp hurt worse. You lurched back, slamming into Lloyd’s chest. Immediately, you reached for the clamp, but he caught your wrist.
“No, don’t. Breathe, Princess. Deep breaths, that’s it.”
Tears swam in your eyes as he coached you. His hands stroked your body and the distraction of the calloused palms rubbing your waist and hips eased the pain. Suddenly, your breasts felt heavy and plump, despite the uncomfortable bite of the clamps.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Lloyd grunted.
You became aware of the flood between your legs and realized juices had dripped down your inner thighs. He thrust hard, seating himself deep in a single advance. This time instead of pushing your chest down, he grasped your wrists and used the leverage to force you to arch your back. His next thrust made you shudder.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured.
His thrusts made the clamps rattle, their weight tugging on your breasts and triggering a wave of pain. You cried out.
“Easy, let me make it better.”
Lloyd reached between your legs, his fingers dipping into your folds and stroking your clit.
Instantly, the pain from your nipples faded, replaced by a fierce wave of pleasure. You clenched around him and the rough sound of male desire it elicited from Lloyd had you quivering, on edge. He rocked in and out, keeping his fingers moving on your clit to distract you from the searing pain of the clamps.
“Hold on, Princess.”
That was your only warning before he impaled himself deep, the head of his cock pressing at the entrance to your womb. You shuddered, gasping when his thrusts grew rougher and harder. Fire sizzled across your skin, the sensations racing up your spine until your entire body rippled. Lloyd’s grip on your wrists tightened as you twisted in a moment of ecstasy.
He growled. “Don’t round your back, Princess. I wanna go deep… come on, be a good girl and arch for me.”
You moaned and tried to meet his demand but your body was reacting, writhing and squirming of its own accord as he rooted himself so deep that you saw stars.
“Aaahhh! Lloyd!”
He jerked your wrists, forcing you to lower your shoulders, and jostling the clamps. You squealed and Lloyd growled in response. Your reaction seemed to spur him into action. Suddenly his deep, powerful thrusts were making the headboard rattle against the wall. It was so deep. In seconds, you were shaking on the edge of orgasm and the sensation of the nipple clamps had dulled to a pleasureable tightness.
Lloyd drew back, the width of his cock stroking over all your tender spots, before pausing at your entrance, leaving just the tip inside. You gasped as he slammed into you hard, burying himself all the way in a brutal thrust that made you scream. He shifted his hands higher, moving his grip from your wrists to just above your elbows. Held in this fashion, you were prevented from retreating or twisting away when the head of his cock ground into your g-spot.
Involuntary undulations rippled through your muscles, each invasion causing your channel to squeeze as it tried to entrap him. Each time they failed, your pussy reacted to the next thrust as a fresh chance to lock him in a vice grip. The sizzling pain from the nipple clamps acted like a conductor, carrying the sensations from your core and spreading them through your whole body. Violent waves of pleasure encompassed every muscle and nerve you possessed.
Lloyd grasped the chain that connected the nipple clamps and tugged. You screamed. He grunted, panting as he increased the pace, pounding you even harder. His teeth scraped against your shoulder and the flash of pain made you quiver. You could feel the orgasm approaching and knew it would be more powerful than anything you’d experienced before. A ripple of fear passed through your dazed mind, questioning if you could survive something so intense or if you’d disintegrate.
“That’s it, Princess. Good girl, squeezing my cock, taking me deep… ah, fuck!”
He swirled his fingers on your clit, thrusting faster, making the clamps rattle. Each impalement made you cry, until unintelligible words were all you could manage. He was rooted so deep, your nipples hurt so bad, yet at the same time, they felt so good… his fingers were tormenting your clit… you couldn’t catch your breath, it was too much…
The orgasm stole your breath. When you collapsed, Lloyd’s grip was the only thing that kept you from crushing the nipple clamps into the mattress. Your legs trembled, jerking and twisting as your muscles spasmed and pleasure turned you into its puppet. You were only vaguely aware of Lloyd’s release. You wouldn’t have noticed, except that the rush of wetness against your cervix triggered another, smaller orgasm. The second climax soothed the brutality of the first, easing your muscles from shaking into quivering. Slowly, your pussy relaxed its vise grip and your sex began pulsating with soft flutters that were as sweet as they were intense.
Lloyd rolled onto his side, taking you with him. One brawny arm curled around your waist as he wrapped himself around you like a human blanket. You whimpered, caught in the vestiges of climax still wracking your body. Lloyd held you tight and murmured soothing words that your frazzled mind couldn’t comprehend.
You felt disjoined from reality. The strongest sensation was the throbbing, molten heat, that pulsed between your legs - everything else seemed dulled and faint in comparison. You would have been content to lay boneless in Lloyd’s arms forever, but after a few moments he separated your bodies. The sticky trickle of liquid down your thigh made you stir, but physical exhaustion was stronger than discomfort. Lloyd nuzzled your shoulder.
He said something and even though you heard him, your brain just… refused to process. Then he was pulling you into his chest and arranging your legs across his thighs. His arm supported your back and your head fell limply against his neck.
“Princess… Come on, Princess. Open your eyes,” Lloyd purred, stroking your cheek.
“Tired...”
“I bet you are, but I have to take off those clamps, sweetheart.”
Your lashes fluttered. The dull throb of the nipple clamps wasn’t so unpleasant any more.
“They’re okay.”
“It’s better if I take them off now.”
“M’kay…”
You were so lost in the afterglow that you didn’t care what he did.
“This’ll hurt,” Lloyd warned, his fingers brushing the side of your breast.
Perhaps if you hadn’t been so relaxed, you would’ve been more concerned. When he opened the right clamp, you weren’t prepared. You shrieked, almost lurching out of his lap.
“Ow, ow, ow! Fuck! Fucking hell, damn it, holy shit…!”
Lloyd caught you when you tried to crawl away. He wrapped both arms around your waist and hauled you against his chest. You let him hold you, but hissed when he palmed your stinging nipple, rubbing it briskly.
“I know, it hurts. Let me rub it out.”
The sensation was intense, a blend of pleasure and pain that confused you.
“Ready for the other one?” he asked.
“No!”
“It has to come off, and it’ll hurt worse later.”
You grit your teeth.
“Fine, do it!”
His lips brushed your temple. “Deep breath… three, two, one-”
“Aaaaahh!”
Tears spilled down your cheeks.
“It’s okay,” Lloyd murmured, already stroking it, rubbing circulation back into the flesh.
He kissed your shoulder. “You did so good, Princess. Did you like the clamps? Hate them?”
“Yes.”
Lloyd chuckled.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Considering your limited sexual history, Lloyd planned to spend more time than he normally would have on aftercare. What he didn’t anticipate was that you’d snuggled into his chest and fall asleep two minutes after he’d rubbed the blood flow back into your nipples. Figuring that it was probably the thought that counted, and cuddling was still a form of aftercare, he stayed in bed and held you while you slept. It was just past eight o’clock and he wasn’t tired, but he lay there and let the sound of your steady breath relax him. He let his mind drift.
His thoughts returned to Shun Nguyen.
Lloyd’s arms tightened around you, wondering why he hadn’t seen it himself. Nguyen was walking a red flag. Why had he let you speak with him alone for the second interview? The man had direct knowledge of his girlfriend’s murder and highly credible domestic violence accusations. Lloyd had put you in a room with him anyways; now you were being stalked. You snuffled in your sleep, mumbling. Lloyd stroked the length of your spine until you settled against him. He needed to wake you up and feed you, but he didn’t have the heart to do it yet. You’d been through a lot today.
He should be more careful with you. In the dark, quiet room the weight of his mistakes, of his errors in judgment, felt closer than ever. The communication problems you were having… those were probably his fault, too. He needed to mend the rift in your friendship and earn your trust again. Granted, he couldn’t tell you that he had every intention of killing Shun Ngueyn when the opportunity presented itself. When he did, he wasn’t going to be stupid about it. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize himself or cause you distress. Thinking about your distress made him uncomfortable.
Why had he gone for the nipple clamps tonight? They were hardly a beginner friendly choice. The bullet vibrator would’ve been more appropriate, but he’d been curious to see what effect a little pain would have on your pleasure. Choosing the clamps wasn’t his only error in judgment tonight. Even if the intense orgasm that unraveled you in the end was something rare and beautiful, the position he’d put you in had been too dominating.
Lloyd tried to focus on the positives, reminding himself that you’d trusted him. You had consented to the clamps and didn’t that prove how deep your trust ran?
But he hadn’t let you bail out when the second clamp hurt. He’d pushed your limits without asking for permission. Lloyd closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He didn’t want to take advantage of you. If he did, it would be by accident, but he needed to be careful. In the future, he had to slow down and make sure he only used toys that suited your experience level.
Guilt seared his conscience. The emotion, like anxiety, wasn’t one he usually suffered from. Feeling guilty was one of his triggers for rage, so he tried to explore the emotion and search out its roots.
You’d trusted him tonight and now he was feeling unworthy of it. The lack of communication when you’d chosen not to tell him about your stalker… that must have come from a lack of trust. You didn’t think he could remain calm and help you instead of flying off the handle. Your behavior suggested that your trust in him was more physical than emotional.
He frowned, astonished by the revelation. You were his closest friend. He trusted you with his feelings… No, that wasn’t true.
He hadn’t told you about his estrangement from Joe. He hadn’t told you about helping Elliot get into rehab or seeing his ex-girlfriend when he was in Idaho. He hadn’t told you that he had sisters or that his mother had abandoned him and left him that horrible box of cassette tapes. He hadn’t told you that his father used to lock him under the tack room floorboards in a sunken coffin. You knew a lot about him - more than anyone else did - but not enough. The root of his guilt was suddenly clear. You weren’t communicating with him because you didn’t trust him. What had seemed like a failure to communicate ran much deeper.
He hadn’t done anything to earn the level of trust he was expecting from you.
His chest tightened, compressing with each beat of his heart. He wanted to address the problem but at the same time he was afraid of making a mistake and unraveling the delicate threads of your relationship. What if those delicate threads were already fraying, and he was just now noticing it? Something had to be done. Retreating wasn’t an option. Your friendship would never be enough for him again, not after having you as his lover. At the same time, he couldn’t bear the thought of tethering you to him and stifling your freedom.
Was there a balance that accommodated both of your needs?
Claiming you as his own would be selfish. Lloyd stared at the ceiling, trying to work out what he wanted. Monogamy, a shared home, your complete, unhesitating trust - those were the desires surged to the forefront of his mind. In a word, he wanted commitment.
Commitment.
The word churned his stomach. Lloyd couldn’t help the revulsion that welled up at the idea. He couldn’t stop the revulsion anymore than he could prevent himself from yearning for it. He repeated the phrase in his mind, as if exposure could resolve his phobia.
Commitment.
Lloyd shut his eyes. He did the breathing exercises again, but this time the anxiety refused to loose its grip.
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Masterlist
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Next - Chapter XXII
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The Princess - Tag List:
@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @fangirl-and-doctor-help @jesevans @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida @mysweetlittledesire @liecastillo @marantha @literaturelove @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @yiiiikesmish @calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @andydrysdalerogers @here4thefanfics @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi
#lloyd hansen fanfiction#lloyd hansen fanfic#lloyd hansen fic#lloyd hansen smut#lloyd hansen x fem!reader#lloyd hansen x you#lloyd hansen x y/n#lloyd hansen x female reader#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd x princess#the princess and the lawyer#the princess & the lawyer#series: the princess and the lawyer#series: the princess & the lawyer#lloyd hansen au#chris evans characters fic#chris evans characters#chris evans characters fanfic#chris evans character au#smut#18+ content#18+ minors dni
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Destiel Fic Recs
Are You Writing From the Heart? By luckshiptoshore @luckshiptoshore (Explicit, 86k)
This fic is equal parts hilarious and touching. A ride of meta delight.
Cas Novak has been hired to ghost write the hit book series Supernatural after the original writer disappeared. He spends his days in a coffee shop trying to somehow write something compelling from Chuck's messy notes.
But a chance meeting with a cute boy turns his life and the narrative upside down. As they grow closer, Cas finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about himself.
This fic ties in canon in such a fun way as Cas works through the plot. It also features a deeply repressed “straight” Cas who is struggling in a way that will make you want to shake and hug him at the same time.
Theres a lot of humor, but underneath is a really beautiful story about the stories we tell. It's a gorgeous journey that will leave you emotional.
(S)ex Parte by corrupt_touch (AmberXBoone) @corrupt-touch (Explicit, 25k)
Listen. I'm a burnt out lawyer. So on the very rare occasion I will read a lawyer fic, it's about burnt out lawyers and this one certainly hits that part of my brain.
Dean is miserable in his job as a corporate defense attorney, and his current case where he has to defend a soulless pharmaceutical company isn't helping. Desperate to get away for a few hours, he finds a cute guy in a bar for a mind-melting night of sex. It would be a total win, except the same guy walks into the courtroom the next day. He's the judge. Can Dean and Cas forget their wild night of passion, or will they risk everything to recapture the magic?
The desperate, needy, immediately profound bond between Dean and Cas is what makes this fic. Truly, they are two magnets pulled together. Also, there are some beautiful themes about leaving the past - and parental expectations -behind.
Phantasma by thisisapaige @thisisapaige (Explicit, 30k)
Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in awhile. Dean considers trying to get his brother Sammy to help, but he seems so happy.
So he decides to buy a haunted house and settle down. He'll clear out this ghost (some lady named Naomi) and the place will be all his.
Except it turns out the ghost isn't a lady, but a hot dude named Cas. A lonely phantom and a lonely human finding comfort and companionship together.
This fic does have a happy ending, so don't worry! The fic has a nice mystery as Dean and Cas work to try to understand what happened to him, but it's the softness of these two together that really stands out.
Theres something so beautiful about these two guys, both alone for so long, finding joy in each other.
Ghost Town by blue_morning, xfancyfranart (Teen, 25k) (art by @xfancyfranart )
Speaking of ghosts, this one features a soft tropey love story with a really fun setting and a meddling ghost (Jo) who ships it.
When Cas inherits a ghost town from his eccentric uncle, he isn't sure what to think, but he decides he wants to check it out. Unfortunately for Cas, what he doesn't check out is the weather.
Luckily, the grumpy town caretaker, Dean Winchester, is there to save him. Unluckily, they have to wait out the snow storm in the abandoned ghost town.
There's only one bed and they're snowed in. throw in a surprise mystery treasure hunt and a bored ghost and you have yourself a fun, soft story.
I'll Follow You Into the Dark by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta (Explicit, 15k)
This one hurts so good. A fix-it (but Dean lived because fuck that), this fic explores Dean’s grief and desperation to get Cas back.
When he realizes the price of admission into the Empty is being an angel or a demon, Dean takes extreme steps to save his angel. But will Dean lose himself in the process?
It's a beautiful story of love and sacrifice with a soft landing. Even if it ruins a certain item from Ikea for you.
The Princess Bride by foxymoley @foxymoley (Teen, 20k)
Like peanut butter and chocolate, the marriage of The Princess Bride and Supernatural is a combination that works.
Its a retelling of the movie featuring all your favorite lines. There's humor! There's true love! There are pirates!
Some of the details are changed obviously (Dred Pirate Cas and Inigo Montoya Dean, for example, are the main love interests), but it works really well and I found myself grinning like a fool the entire time I read this.
See all my rec lists at @riversrecs
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James Bucky Barnes: Fanfic 1
Key: smut -🍓/fluff -🌼/angst -🐂/personal fav -👓/
A Little Superstition @jadedvibes 🌼 (college athlete au)
A Million Reasons Series @perpetuelledaydreaming 🍓🌼🐂(college athlete au)
Accidentally In Love Series @creativebeang 🍓🌼🐂👓
Awake My Soul Series @foreverindreamlandd 🍓🌼🐂 (zombie au)
Baby Love, I Need Your Love @shortcakezaza 🍓🌼👓 (mafia!bucky x baker!reader au)
Bad Intentions Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (mafia! au|Ch. 1/30)
Broken Knights Series @itsanerdlife (mafia! au|Ch. 1/30) 🍓🌼🐂👓
Brotherhood & Bullets Series @rookthorne 🍓🌼🐂 (biker!au)
Brooklyn Pride Series @rookthorne 🍓🌼🐂(street racer!au)
Cruel Intentions Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (mafia! au|Ch. 1/24|sequel to bad intentions)
Chemistry 2 @onceuponastory 🌼🐂👓 (danceteacher!bucky au)
Firebug Series @areyoureadyforsomemeatballz 🍓🌼🐂👓 (firefighter!au)
Forever @onceuponastory 🌼🐂👓
For Love of the Game Series @perpetuelledaydreaming 🍓🌼🐂👓 (baseball!au)
Heat on High Mini Series @tom-holland-parker 🍓🌼🐂👓 (firefighter!bucky x singlemom!r)
His Empire, Her Rules Series @rookthorne 🍓🌼🐂 (mafia!au)
I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once Series @frostironfudge 🌼🐂👓 (ex!military! x +sized!reader)
In Seven Years @perpetuelledaydreaming 🌼🐂👓 (baseball au {mentions of pregnancy})
In The Embers Series @foreverindreamlandd 🌼🐂 (+sized!Rogers!reader)
Inked Sun Series @rookthorne 🍓🌼🐂 (tattoo!artist!au)
It Comes Back To Me 2 @frostironfudge 🍓🌼🐂👓(lawyer! Bucky)
It Started with a Smile Series @writing-for-marvel 🌼🐂👓 (regency/bridgerton!au)
It Takes Two @jessybarnes 🍓🌼👓 (pregnant!reader)
It Was Always You @ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused 🍓🌼🐂(+sized!reader)
Last Night’s Story Series @the-canary 🍓🌼🐂👓(stripper!bucky au)
Like I Want You 2 @tmpestuous (college au)
Lieutenant Smolder Series @baezen 🍓🌼🐂👓 (firefighter!au)
Love & Lace Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂 (mob!Bucky x burlesque!reader|1/24)
Moth to the Flame Series @tmpestuous (college au/ enemies to lovers au)
Our Life Series @creativebeang 🍓🌼🐂
Out Of Mind @rassvetsky 🌼🐂👓
Part Of A Family @onceuponastory 🍓🌼🐂 (singlemom!reader)
Promises @jadedvibes 🍓🌼🐂 (soft!dark! 1940’s bucky)
Playing Games Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (tw: S/A|HS au|1/28)
Save Me Mini Series @espinosaurusrexex 🍓🌼🐂 (college au)
Scars Series @chickenfics 🌼🐂👓 (western au)
Something Domestic Series @fandoms-writings 🌼🐂👓 (ex-military amputee farmer Bucky)
Something More Series @tellmealovestory 🍓🌼🐂👓 (fwb/situation-ship au)
Shattered Pieces Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂 (fighter!bucky|1/20)
Silhouettes in the Spotlight Series @frostironfudge 🍓🌼🐂👓 (actor Bucky x plus sized reader)
Six Months Series @creativebeang 🌼🐂 (explicit themes 18+)
Ties That Bind Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (MC|ch. 1/32)
The Best Man Series @glutenfreepeach 🍓🌼🐂👓 (dark themes 18+)
The Sargent’s Heart Series @foreverindreamlandd 🌼🐂 (+sized!reader)
The Time of the Prey Series @subwaysurf45 🍓🌼🐂 (Knight Bucky x Princess Reader)
The Unseen One Series @extremelyblackandwhite 🌼🐂 (hades!au)
Wrangling Forever Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (farm hand Bucky au|1/10)
Whatever It Takes Series @angrythingstarlight 🍓🌼🐂 (mafia!au)
Where Do We Go From Here Series @sebastianstansqueen 🌼🐂👓 (mafia!au)
I Wanna Be Yours @theeleggymeggy 🍓🌼🐂 (besties to lovers!au)
#callmemanaficrecs#series#one shots#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes#marvel fanfic#james bucky barnes#drabble#james bucky buchanan barnes#y/n x james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes drabble#james buchanan barnes#reader x james buchanan barnes
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fic recs: bts ii
disclaimer: some fics contain mature content, so minors DNI!!!!
jin
on the ropes @raplinesmoon a | s - wc: 18k
ex-boxer!jin, lawyer!reader, infidelity!au
stay with me @bts-trash-blog f
long-distance relationship, established relationship
give me love @taleasnewastime s | f - wc: 6.1k
established relationship!, pwp
night drive @minimonojoon f - wc: 3k
best friends to lovers!au, groomsmen!jin x bridesmaid!reader
i’m all yours @sailoryooons f - wc: 2.3k
best friends to lovers!au, idiots to lovers!au, so so soft!!
yoongi
speak now @vminity21 a | s - wc: 2.4k
friends to lovers!au, bride-to-be!reader
almost @bluewhale52 f - wc: 1.9k
established relationship!au, idol!au, wife!oc
like flowers we bloom @cupofteaguk f - wc: 5k
bad boy!au
no rebounds (series) @joheunsaram a | f | s - wc: 16k
marriage!au
hobi
the ick @taleasnewastime f - wc. 6k
friends to lovers!au
namjoon
first christmas @spideyjimin f - wc: 2.2k
established relationship!au, christmas!au, parents!au
how i love you @ahundredtimesover a | f | s - wc: 28.3k
established relationship!au, husband!namjoon
cruise control @lavienjin s | f | slight a - wc: 13.6k
street racer!au, doctor!reader
somewhere between the lines @caelesjjk s | a | slight f - wc: 9.8k
divorce!au, exes to lovers??
i love you @ughseoks f - wc: 1.8k
established relationship!au, slice(s) of life!au
doom boy @raplinesmoon a | s | slight fluff - wc: 14.2k
mafia!au, established relationship!au, namjoon thought he escaped his past…
class act @jvngkook97 f | s | a - wc: 4.7k
college!au, jock!namjoon, introverted!reader, strangers to lovers!au
an affair of the art @raplinesmoon f | slight a - wc: 1.3k
husband!namjoon, new parents!au, dad!namjoon, art enthusiasts!au
jimin
lovely demons @kpopfanfictrash a | s - wc: 41.7k
fantasy!au, enemies to lovers!au
serendipity (series) @sopebubbles a | f
idol!au, pregnancy!au, smau and written
lust @adonis-koo s - wc. 11k
demon!au, strangers to lovers
taehyung
heart of the flame (series) @chateautae a | s | f
roommates!au, friends to lovers!au
in bloom @untaemedqueen a | f | s - wc: 6.2k
tattooed&pierced!taehyung, tattoo artist!taehyung, florist!reader, married!au, family!au
farmer boy, i love you @strawberrynamjoon a | f | s - wc: 35k
farming!au, enemies to lovers
breath of spring @cupofteaguk f - wc: 9k
florist!au, strangers to lovers
girl code @allysonhope f | slight a - wc: 7.4k
friends to lovers!au, oc tries to respect girl code
come back home (series) @another-army-spot a | s | f
dad!taehyung, teen parents, exes to lovers
the odds on us @jimilter a | s | slight f - wc: 15.5k
exes to lovers!au
jungkook
crush @jungxk light a | f | s - wc: 5.1k
memory loss!au, established relationship!au, dad!au
a lover’s bond @latetaektalk heavy a | f - wc: 18.7k
greek mythology! AU- specifically orpheus and eurydice! AU
marry me? @bebejungkook f - wc: 0.7k
established relationship!au, gamer!jk, crybaby!reader
this is how you fall in love @jeonqkooks s | f - wc: 9.3k
rockstar!jk, established relationship!au
down and down @koorara a | f - wc: 12k
mma fighter!jk, exes au
put your head on my shoulder @koorara slight a | f | s - wc: 10k
married!au, husband!jk
alien invasion @nocturnal-jeon f
fiancée!jk, new dad!jk
the reconnect @bonny-kookoo s | a | f - wc: 12.5k
exes to lovers!au, one night stand!au, dad!jungkook
bleeding for you @mercurygguk a | f - wc: 3.3k
EMT!jk, fiancé!au, car crash
inkling @gguksgalaxy a | s - wc: 17.7k
tattoo artist!jungkook
love in the dark @spideyjimin s | a f - wc: 18k
ceo au, forbidden romance au, established relationship au, exes to lovers
the truth untold @crispy-chan a | f - wc: 26k
royal!au, forbidden love, arranged marriage, knight!jungkook x princess!reader
lover @wnderkoo f - wc: 2.1k
established relationship!au, break up!au (BUT NOT REALLY)
the manliest @kookslastbutton s | f - wc: 1.2k
established relationship!au, crack, jk tries to be hard dom
under your skin @bonny-kookoo s | f | slight a
strangers to lovers!au, tattoo artist!jk, shy!reader
what if i love you too much? @taleasnewastime s | f | a - wc: 20.6k
neighborhood!au, single mom!reader
busted @btsgotjams27 f | slight smut (suggestive) - wc: 0.8
husband!jk, biker!jk (enough said)
#bts fic rec#bts imagines#bts#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#jin x reader#jin fluff#jin angst#seokjin imagine#yoongi x reader#yoongi angst#hoseok x reader#jhope x reader#hoseok angst#hoseok fluff#namjoon x reader#kim namjoon#bangtan rm#namjoon angst#namjoon fluff#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader
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━━ 𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒔 pt. 4
━━ 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. the frontier boys as random tropes. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one | part two | part three
┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ Pope, Will, Benny, Frank x fem!Reader
┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ ceo!Pope x assistant!Reader, lumberjack!Will x bimbo!Reader, bartender!Benny x fem!Reader, step dad!Frank x step daughter!Reader
┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sexual content, implied smut, graphic depictions of sexual acts, fantasized sexual content, blowjobs, depictions of fingering, pussy eating, inappropriate family dynamics you definitely shouldn’t partake in, inappropriate work relationships that you definitely shouldn’t do in real life (unless you want to purrrr💅🏻), a little long just cause I haven’t made one in a while, slight dark content in Franks section
┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sorry for the wait with this series, people really loved it actually, more than I thought they would. The begging for another part finally got to me, so here you go!!!! Hope you enjoy while I work on the next one 😭
━━ SANTIAGO ‘POPE’ GARCIA ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
CEO! SANTIAGO ⊹₊˚
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 desk in those cute little skirts and too tight dresses, always so busy and always so beautiful. He liked to stare out at you from his private office with a semi hard cock in his black slacks; a perfect view of your desk and the best view of you.
He could never get any work done of course, not properly anyway, too busy thinking about you and all the things you’d do for him if he asked. You always did what he asked, so eager to work and so eager to please. You, you with those black stiletto heels and those pink pouty lips, you, you with your sweet voice and your round hips — begging to be fucked good.
Nngh, just you.
He liked to call you into his office for no real reason other than his own selfish desires; he liked to see your hips sway when you walked and stare at your soft tits when you’d lean over — it’s what really got him through the tough days.
He loved to hear your soft giggles and see your cheeks go pink when he’d say something scandalously sly, something a ceo definitely shouldn’t say to their assistant, something a boss definitely shouldn’t say to their employee.
He’d take you on business meetings and lavish business trips, invite you to expensive business dinners and elite business parties, it was always business, business, business. He wanted more than that, wanted to take you out for real and show you how much of a gentleman he could be if you’d give him the chance.
Mainly, he wanted to show you how good he could fuck you, much better than any man could, show you how well he knew your body in ways you even didn’t, in ways no man did.
He’d have to clench his fists and hold himself back from fucking you on his very desk with his blinds open for all the horny temps to see — the ones who could never seem to leave you and your beauty alone, the ones who gawked at you in the break room, the ones whose grimy hands lingered on your arm for just a little too long…
That always pissed him off, having to see those puny fanboys of yours charade around your desk like prissy princesses and fight for your attention — it was pathetic and obnoxious. He couldn’t fire them like he wanted to though (unfortunately), too many lawsuits already being filed against him that he was too rich to really care about.
He had lawyers for that shit anyway.
Santiago, or Santi as he’s made you call him now, liked to watch you talk. He loved hearing your voice, seeing the way your lips moved and sparkled with gloss as you rambled on about some company he supposedly owned, pacing his office as he sat in his chair with his dick hard under his desk.
He’d clench his jaw and picture how those lips would look wrapped around his thick cock, your lipstick leaving stains all over him that he could admire later — maybe he’d even have you under his desk during meetings, sitting right between his legs with your lipstick smeared over your cheeks, and a sweet mix of your saliva and his cum dripping down his balls —
“Are you even listening to me?” You’d always scold him with your arms crossed over your chest when you’d notice his blank stare, pushing your tits up and giving him yet another fantasy he couldn’t get his mind off of.
He’d quickly snap out of whatever trance he was in, eyes flickering from your tits to your face, intense and twinkling — really thinking he was slick enough that you wouldn’t notice it. Then he’d let out a husky chuckle, his hand subtly palming his cock as he’d say, “Of course I am.”
You’d just roll your eyes and continue talking, oblivious to his arousal as he’d stare at your ass, your lips, your legs, his hungry eyes running up and down the length of your perfect body until he was so hard he physically couldn’t stand it.
But that was the norm for him.
For any other girl he had everything — the money, the power, the cars, the looks. He could’ve had literally any other girl he wanted yet he wanted you, yet he couldn’t have you.
You were so professional, always did your job perfectly and always did the right thing, the perfect assistant, the perfect employee, the perfect woman. Why, why, couldn’t you be one of those dumb slutty assistants who he didn’t give a damn about? The ones who didn’t bother to hide the fact that they were a slut, the ones who’d drop everything and suck his dick if he asked, even if he didn’t ask.
But no, you were you and you were so damn different from that and really, that made him want you even more. The fact that you weren’t a dumb girl but a mature woman, as flawless and elegant as rose petals and wine. He wanted you to break out of that persona, see your strong facade crack and crumble for him, for his love, for his cock.
He wanted to see that perfect red lipstick smeared over your tear stained cheeks, see that tight pussy gaping and wet and begging for him, see those lacy panties wrapped around your ankles as he’d fuck you hard and fast before a business meeting in just the way he knew you’d like, just hard enough so everyone could see the stumble in your walk and the tears in your eyes.
One day he was going to have that, one day. But for now he was just gonna have to stick with the lustful stares during crowded meetings and the not-so-innocent fantasies when you’d poke into his office.
One day he’d have you, one day… but for now he was satisfied with jerking his dick off in his office at the sweet smell of your lingering perfume. For now he was okay with imagining to throw you on his desk and fucking your brains out when you’d deliver his coffee in the mornings, his lunch in the afternoon, his dinner in the evenings… all the while staring at you from behind his computer with his dick so achingly hard he couldn’t focus on a damn thing.
All right, he wasn’t okay with it but what choice did he have? Bosses shouldn’t fuck their assistants, but damn, he couldn’t wait to break his own rule and see how easily he could make a good girl turn bad.
━━ WILL ‘IRONHEAD’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
LUMBERJACK! WILL ⊹₊˚
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 where you went. It was inevitable really; a pretty girl like you, wearing those pink skirts like you did, wearing those 6-inch heels like you did, wearing those tight tops like you did, in a town like this? It was really no wonder why you always got stared at.
It was just unfortunate that you were too dumb to notice that he was no better than the countless men that gawked at you, he was just better at hiding it.
You were the bosses daughter — dangerously beautiful and utterly unattainable (spoiled rotten too). You were a walking, talking Barbie in pink dresses and pretty purses; a pink, glittering ditzy princess who carelessly walked around the muddy work site in those cute heels of yours — William believed you were too beautiful to walk around in the filth.
You were the sweetest little thing he had ever met too — a butterfly in a battlefield — so giggly and cheery it drove him insane. The sound of your voice in his ears, your laugh, twinkling and sweet like sparkling water; he could only imagine how good you’d sound underneath him as he drove his cock into you nice and slow so you felt every vein, every ridge, every curve hitting that spot inside you that made you squeal.
Your father was a good man, had hired Will in a desperate time when he needed someone — something, constant. Ever since then Will had always been the best employee. He was the first hire and the only one to stay when things got tough. He put in the most hours, doing the most work, being the best lumberjack he could be for your father in repayment of his kindness. So for that reason Will had earned your father’s respect in more ways than one — for being patient, hardworking, loyal.
So sometimes Will would feel bad when he’d sneak into the bathroom after a rather short conversation with you; he’d slam the stall door closed and whip out his throbbing cock to relief some of the tension you had so dim wittingly caused.
He’d fuck his fist at the thought of you bent over the break room table he had left you at, cute mini skirt flipped up and giving him a perfect view of that pretty pussy he only prayed to see. He knew it was gorgeous, knew it’d be just as pretty as you, knew he’d be fucking addicted at the first taste.
Will was patient, level headed, a loyal worker who’d never betray your fathers trust… but he’d picture thrusting his thick fingers inside you slowly and carefully, smearing cum over your warm hole and feel your wetness drip down his palm as you begged him to go faster — a pretty pink mess all for him.
He'd imagine throwing your cute little ass against a tree and wrapping your smooth legs around his waist when he was supposed to be working, telling you to be a good girl for him as he'd grope your tits and hear your needy whimpers.
He’d hold you against him as he’d push his hard cock inside your tight little pussy once you begged him enough, listen to your gasps as he’d stretch you out in ways you’d never been stretched before. He'd be sure to cover your mouth with his calloused, work torn hands to muffle your screams, have you claw his chiseled back with those glossy pink nails of yours until he bled.
He’d make you cum around his cock as he whispered every filthy thing he could think of in your ear, hear you whine and whimper and leave bruises in the sweet spots only he got to see; your father would be down the hill confused on where the both of you had gone.
He’d squirt all over his hand and thighs once he was done, panting and hissing from the pleasure pulsing through his body. He knew you were right outside those doors too, right where he left you in the break room, sipping on an ice coffee — completely oblivious.
Will would take a long while to clean himself up after that, the guilt burrowing heavy in his tummy knowing your father’s office was right down the hall. He wouldn’t dare look in that direction, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to look your father in the eye for a good hour.
He’d walk out the bathroom as inconspicuously as possible and put his hands in his coat pockets, walk back into the break room like nothing had happened, like he didn’t want to fuck your brains out right then and there, and he’d lean against the door frame and give you the most charming, innocent smile you dotingly believed.
“Hey, darlin’.”
You’d look up from your phone startled, your tits spilling out of your pink top and the plushness of your thighs flared out on the bench. Your hair was shiny and glittery with cute hair clips on each side, your makeup done so prettily and perfectly he just wanted to ruin it. You looked so damn good Will couldn’t help but take a minute to admire you some more, his eyes running over you hotly, but too subtly for you to notice.
“Oh, hey, where did you go? You said 5 minutes…” You teasingly pouted up at him with those glossy, twinkling lips of yours like you weren’t making this hard enough as it was.
You’d giggle and smile at him — making his heart churn and dick stir. He’d be entranced by your tits jiggling as you did, covered in glittery perfume and smelling of vanilla and strawberries.
So fucking delicious.
Then you’d wrap those same lips around your pink straw and take another sip of your iced coffee.
God damn those lips of yours… Will would go in a daze at the image of you on your knees for him, your lipgloss smeared over your cheeks as you’d suck his swollen cock head into your mouth, patiently waiting for him to say you could take more. Sparkly pink lip stains marked over his dick and balls… it was his dream.
Will knew he was bigger than you too, in a lot of ways, was reminded of if every time you stood next to his hulking form in those cute heels of yours that still didn’t manage to reach him. He was a 6’0 mass of muscle and brawn, carved from brick and forged from stone and way too rough around the edges to handle a delicate thing like you — it’d be like putting a pretty flower petal in the brazen hands of a giant. He wasn’t sure he could have you and not ruin you.
But god damn he’d fucking try. He’d be so delicate and tender with you in ways he’s never been with another woman. He’d cherish every scar and blemish on your smooth skin and treat you like the princess you so clearly were. He’d kiss you from head to toe and lap at your pussy like a poor man worshipping a goddess — he’d be oh so lucky.
He was big, yes, but he promised he wouldn’t crush you. He was rough, yes, but even a pretty girl like you liked having a rough hand wrapped around her throat. You’d be a pretty pink angel wrapped in his gray cotton sheets, held between his mundane, trauma stained hands.
He was manly and burly, all flannel jackets and tree stained jeans and you were girly and feminine, all short skirts and glittering strawberry lipgloss. You two didn’t work in a conventional sense but nothing about his life or yours was conventional.
Your father was a good man and William was a good worker, the best employee, the best lumberjack. He was patient and so loyal, fully aware he was risking his livelihood by wanting you but yet he was left wanting anyway. You were too cute and bouncy and he needed you to bounce on his cock more than he needed a job.
He wanted to see you bare for him — bare in heart, mind, and soul because he knew there was more to you than meets the eye. There was more of you to discover beyond the pink masses and he wanted to be the one that discovered it, the one that you trusted enough to show it to. He wanted to see the real you bared to him in the middle of the night with the beautiful afterglow of what you two had just done shining on your skin — your most organic, happiest form.
“Ah, William, I see you’re keeping my girl company? I hope she’s not keeping you, she’s a chatterbox.” Your father laughed and smacked a hand on Will’s shoulder, suddenly popping up in the doorway like Will had conjured him with his guilt. A thud sounded from the smack and Will felt his shoulder sting, completely shaken out of his fantasy now.
He looked at your father and laughed that charming laugh — I want to fuck your daughter more than I need air to breath sir but no she’s not a problem at all.
━━ BENJAMIN ‘BENNY’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
BARTENDER! BENNY ⊹₊˚
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 it almost angered you. Every Saturday night the club was packed with women just hoping Benny the Bartender would look their way… it was pathetic, if you didn’t do the exact same thing.
It was routine for you, the only thing you really looked forward to in your long weeks of monotonous work and errands — Benny was new, exciting, and so fucking hot you blushed at just the mere thought of him.
He was so charming too, so good at his job by simply just existing you could see why the company had hired him. With just one dazzling smile the whole room swooned and came, even you, who so pathetically tried to act hard to get at the corner of the bar with your lonely margarita you only ever ordered — you needed to be somewhat tipsy to actually have the confidence to talk to him.
You’d wear your sexiest dresses, your cutest shoes, have your hair done pristinely and your makeup done perfectly all in hopes of Benny noticing you — you were almost ashamed that you valued his attention that much.
You’d sit by yourself, alone, at the end of the bar staring at him while he worked, staring at his face and body and just picturing him fucking you on this very bar with his snapback still on his head, his hands gripping your thighs, your hips, your tits, anywhere his greedy hands could leave their mark on.
He’d wear baseball tees and black t-shirts that clung perfectly to his abs and muscles — you even heard a rumor that he was in an underground fighting ring that gave him all those muscles and scars in the first place. The thought aroused you incredibly and you couldn’t stop from fluttering your eyes at him more than usual that night.
He seldom never wore his snapback, and while you loved seeing his full face you couldn’t deny how much you loved the nights when he left his hat at home more.
He’d have his dirty blonde hair slicked back out of his face but yet there was always that one rebelling strand that fell over his eyes when he was working… it drove you insane. And the way he’d run his fingers through his hair when he was in the middle of a busy service, the way your own hands could pull it when he was laid between your legs, nibbling on your thighs and bringing you to such an ecstasy you’ve never experienced.
He was such a natural flirt too, professional to a limit when it came to all the women fawning over him over the bar, their tits falling out of their dresses and their lips over lined with lipstick. He’d laugh that boisterous laugh of his, take shots with them like he wasn’t on the clock, and he’d charm the panties right off them and the money right out of their purses by the time he was done.
You couldn’t say you weren’t jealous.
Benny, on the other hand, was all too aware of the pretty girl at the end of the bar who never seemed to bring anyone but her credit card. He was all too aware of her pretty eyes and pretty lips and perfect set of tits in those skimpy dresses she’d always wear.
And honestly, since the first night he saw you he’s wanted you.
He’d flirt with you all the time in that southern accent of his that charmed all the ladies, but you never seemed to register it, or in other words, you never seemed to care.
You were nothing like the women he dealt with every night — you would roll your eyes when he’d tell you how happy he was to see you again, purse your lips when he complimented your makeup, and seem totally disinterested in him and whatever nonsense he had to say.
And he fucking loved it.
You didn’t fawn over him like the others girls did, you didn’t seem to buy into the whole charming bartender shtick he portrayed either. You were quiet and beautiful and sharp; you never seemed too desperate or eager for him like everyone else. Sure, he loved the attention from other women, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t, but the fact that he never seemed to have yours made him want you even more.
He’d flirt with you whenever he got the chance to, knew your drink of choice by heart now and was always there to fill it back up when it was empty. He was attentive to your needs and he swore he could be just as attentive in other settings if you gave him the chance.
You’d just sit there in the shadows, skin flashing blue and black from the lights of the club and looking so damn fine Benny wished he could drag you into the bathroom and fuck your brains out on the door, feel the music pumping through your veins as you stuck your tongue in his mouth until all he tasted was you and liqueur.
It’d be fast and hot and he wouldn’t be able to breath in anything but you and margarita salt but it sounded perfect. His big hand wrapped around your throat as people knocked on the door like you two weren’t busy. He’d try to muffle your moans for your sake but he’d also decide he liked hearing them more. It’d be cramped and intimate and it would certainly leave him breathless but god damn that sounded like just what he needed right now.
He’d be drunk on you, the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you wrapped around him so tight — the mysterious girl he could never seem to break through to no matter how many times he tried. Sometimes, Benny even felt like giving up — you clearly didn’t want him like he wanted you.
But then, at some point during the night when you were two margaritas in and your eyes were starting to get hazy, he’d look over at you and you’d be giving him the hottest, most seductive look he’s ever seen. It makes his heart pound and skin prickle, his cock ache for something.
It was the kind of look where your eyelashes would flutter and you’d stare up at him with a delectable little smirk on your face, a look that screamed take me now, take me on this bar and show everyone what you’re capable of, show these other bitches you only want me.
And he fucking wished he could. It was that look that kept him going, that look that gave him hope.
And you wanted him to do just that. To leave bruises on your skin and taint your body with himself, to leave his mark on your pussy and soul and be so deep inside you you weren’t sure where his body began and your pleasure ended, just that you needed more, more, more of it.
But Benny assumed that was the game you two liked to play — to show up every Saturday night with the expectation that one of you was going to finally make a move on the other. To see who would crack first, give in to the temptation the both of you so clearly desired but neither were confident enough to admit.
Benny, the sexy bartender obsessed with the mysterious girl who barely gave him the time of day.
You, the girl at the end of the bar wishing Benny would just take the initiative and fuck her already.
And to think, Benny did want you, wanted you so fucking badly, only you. You’re the one that he even bothered to show off for anyway; flipping bottles, being quick on his feet, being better than anyone else cause he knew you were the one watching.
He made a soulful promise to both you and him that one of these nights you’re gonna give him that damned look one more time and he’s not gonna have a choice but to prove to you why you shouldn’t start things you don’t intend to finish.
━━ FRANK ‘CATFISH’ MORALES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
STEP DAD! FRANK ⊹₊˚
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 for a good year and a half before he met you, the young and beautiful daughter of the woman he supposedly loved.
You were grown, well, grown enough; a beautiful woman with dreams and ambitions, goals for her life that he couldn’t help but admire. But you also had this delectable snark you certainly didn’t get from your mother, an attitude that made anything remotely good about you pale in comparison — it drove him mad.
He hated to act like a father to you because he wasn’t your father — you were in your 20s anyway, it was too late for him to be anything other than Frank. He was just an older man in your life set to wed your mother, yet he really only had eyes for you, his beautiful step daughter he certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about when he was fucking your mother.
You were bratty and mean, always rolled your eyes at him and walked off right in the middle of him talking to you; you wore those short shorts he despised (loved more than he should have) and those dresses that clung just a little too tight to your body for his liking. You were disobedient and rude, but so fucking sexy he was left torn between his desires and morals.
You never cared what he had to say about anything, never bothered to listen to his rules, and never bothered to wear some god damn house appropriate shorts that didn’t shove your round ass into his face every time he walked past you.
He imagined bending you over his knee and pulling your shorts off you, gently sliding your pink panties down your thighs, then spanking your ass, hard, like the disobedient brat you were until his handprints were etched into your skin, until you were sniffling and moaning for him to stop, until you had finally learned some respect.
He wondered if you’d get wet from that simple act alone: maybe your childish attitude was all a front, an act, to really piss him off to his limits and see how far you could push him until he broke. Maybe you wanted to be punished by him, be spanked raw, be fucked hard, until tears were streaming in your pretty little eyes and you were sobbing your apologizes to him instead of running your mouth.
As a matter of fact he should do just that; with all the times you’d “accidentally” leave the door open when you were showering and your mother had gone shopping, just you and Frank and the sizzling tension between you left to fend for itself. He was a gentleman at heart but no man could deny the allure of such a pretty body like yours covered in water.
He should shove your face into his pillow and fuck you from behind so you didn’t have to see his face like he knew you’d want to. He’d hold your hands behind your back and pound you until you cried for him to stop, to go faster, that it hurts, but you fucking wanted more.
You’d probably be a squirter too, all mean girls like you were when they got stripped down to the bare parts of themselves, where they couldn’t hide behind their own insolence and were touched by the experienced hands of an older man.
Frank was a patient man, a very patient man. It took a lot to drive him over the edge but yet you always seemed to know just what to say and just what to do to really push his buttons.
Your bedroom door wide open as you changed out of your bra, your perky tits all smooth and round for him to ogle at through the hallway, your music blasting through the whole house when he was trying to get some god damn sleep, bringing over your stupid little boyfriends into his house and letting them fuck you under his roof — it was all reason enough for him to punish you.
And no, Frank wasn’t jealous. He was a grown man, what did he have to be jealous about? He wasn’t jealous when he’d hear your moans sound through the whole house, the headboard banging on the wall, the giggles you’d try to hide as you’d walk them out the door. It was pathetic. Those boys could never fuck you like he could and he knew it. He was not jealous.
You were a bad girl, a naughty girl, and he didn’t like pretty little girls who thought they knew better than him.
You never showed him any gratitude, or appreciation for taking you and your mother in when he didn’t have to, you never thanked him when he made you a hot meal, and you never listened when he’d say put gas back in my car if you use it.
He basically let you do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. There was no structure, no rhyme or reason to anything you did and he’d be damned if he was going to let a spoiled brat like you make his life any harder than it needed to be.
Your mother was an angel, all kisses and kind words and that’s why he loved her in the first place. He had plans to marry her and live a great life with her. Even when she mentioned a daughter Frank didn’t worry, he imagined an adorable little toddler with big doe eyes and a kind heart just like her mother. But then he met you, and you were no kid, and you were certainly no fucking angel.
You were a soul sucking succubus sent from the depths of hell to tempt him, to make him fail yet another marriage. You were young and he knew it was wrong to despise you yet simultaneously want you so fucking badly. He wanted you out of his house, but he also wanted you on your knees and gagging around his cock. He wanted you to shut up for once, but he also wanted you to scream his name until the neighbors knew it.
It was certainly complicated and contradicting, and with his wedding on the way he really didn’t need anything going wrong. But, he figured, if he married your mother at least he would always be around to keep you in line, right?
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One Door Closes & Another One Opens
Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer
Explicit, 18+
I Need Help
Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3
Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and she gets to see this man fight for the safety of his ten year old daughter, Sarah. Will she be able to keep it professional?
Chapter Summary: How can a diner affect two peoples lives and the way they live? It’s like the butterfly effect and weird coincidences all wrapped into one, for both Joel and Renae.
Word count: 10.1k
Warnings: Angst, verbal fight
—
Joel can feel the tension in the truck between him and Sarah, it seems every other second he’s glancing over at Sarah next to him in his rear view mirror and he just watches the way her small face contorts, like she’s trying to find a way to talk about it. He can only imagine the questions she has about this morning, or the situation as a whole. But frankly, he’s more worried about his answers to her - how would he explain it in a way she would understand, but without totally degrading Annie?
Because she is still her mom.
His palms can’t help but sweat and constantly re-grip the steering wheel multiple times, and his stomach softly growls but it’s hidden by the country music that flows through the truck. He’s so nervous and the lack of sleep has him feeling even more on edge. He’s never been like this around Sarah - but she’s also never witnessed first hand, or at least to Joel’s knowledge, how bad Annie actually is.
“So, dad,” the sweet angelic voice soothes his ears, but also scares him, “What exactly is going on with mom?”
There it is - the one dreadful question he didn’t want to hear, especially today. Umm, well, he’s trying to think of something, really anything to say to her while he’s focusing on the morning traffic in front of him, only about a block away from her school.
“She just isn’t the same. Did- did I do somethin-“
“No,” he blurts out and turns his head, loud enough to startle her for only a second, and look back at him as he stares into her beautiful doe eyes, “Don’t ever say that alright? Mama’s just got some of her own things she’s gotta sort through - I can’t help her, Grandma ‘n Grandpa can’t help, only she can. It's never your fault, ‘kay?”
Sarah just nods her head and whispers, I love you. Joel can feel the water glaze over his eyes, so he glances back to the driveway that leads to her school, then back to her. “I love you too baby girl. Now,” he clears his throat as he pulls up to the front of the building, puts the truck in park and twists his torso to look at her fully. “I don’t want this mornin’, or the things about Mama, to mess with your head. Go have fun with your friends, learn somethin’ new that you can tell me at dinner t’night, alright? I love you so much, my little princess.”
A genuine smile takes over the meek one she had, and she leaps out of her seat and wraps her arms around Joel’s shoulders and tightly squeezes. You’re the best, she whispers into his neck and he’s somewhat surprised, but he whisks those thoughts away and mindlessly hugs her back.
This is his daughter, and Annie may be her mom, but Joel will be damned if he continues to let her act like this, especially since he knows that it’s starting to affect Sarah.
“Alright, dad,” she laughs, “I’m gonna be late!” Joel lets go of her, sorry sorry kiddo, and watches as she slides over to her door and hops out the truck, but before she closes it she tells him she loves him one more time. Joel blows a kiss to her and waits until she’s in the school to pull away.
Sarah picked out her outfit today and surprisingly, it turned out cute; A simple light purple t-shirt, white capri cargo pants, and her purple and white sneakers. Her gorgeous brown hair was pulled back into a low bun, one of her favorite hairstyles for school.
He can’t help but feel warm and proud about his intelligent, beautiful daughter. He pulls out from the school and continues down the main road to his house and he dreads having to face the reality that waits for him.
—
With his house key in the door knob, Joel takes a deep breath before he twists the key to unlock it and deal with Annie. This is the last time, he mumbles as he pushes the door open and locks it behind him. Deciding to not dwell on this anymore than he has to, he walks down the short hallway that leads to the kitchen where he sets his keys down and grabs cleaning supplies from the cabinet under the sink.
Again, this has become part of his egregious routine and Joel despises it every single time, mainly because he never would’ve guessed this is how his life would’ve turned out to be. He married Annie because he genuinely loved her, and she loved him.
Maybe they were naive to get married only after two years of dating and knowing each other. But Joel felt that she was the love of his life, he was acting like a teenager trapped in a thirty year old body.
Their chemistry was like they were meant to be, Annie completed him in ways he never imagined and he matured a lot in their relationship - more than her it seems now. The sex was nothing Joel expected out of her, it became one of the main reasons he loved her was because of her skills in bed. The way she could take his whole cock in her throat and let him ruin her face how he wanted, had Joel obsessed. A major red flag now that Joel looks back on it. But they were so happy the twelve years before Sarah and the couple years after but Joel’s love for her has vanished completely; all he cares about is Sarah and Tommy.
When Annie was hammered one night about a year ago, she told Joel that she simply fell outta love with him because he gives so much time and attention to Sarah. Joel absolutely lost his mind that day, he came this close to kicking her out then and there but he just packed a bag for Sarah, picked her up from school, and they stayed at Tommy and Maria’s for the weekend.
This has happened more times than he’d like to admit and Joel is not proud of it or himself for allowing it, but he is proud of Sarah and how well she’s been handling herself.
Her grades have never slipped past a B-, she’s never been in detention, she still is the bubbly little girl that Joel remembers, and she’s still very involved with her group of girlfriends - Joel just worries a lot about her, always will. He just prays that it stays that way, even though he knows as she gets to be a teen, she may have some issues with things, in which Joel will be there every step of the way with her.
“Joel?” Annie’s tired voice comes from the living room, “Is that you baby?”
“Yep.” His voice monotone as he stands up with a small plastic bag full of dirty paper towels in one hand and cleaners in the other. “Be there in a minute.” Although Joel wants nothing more than to eat some greasy food and go to sleep - he’s probably accumulated four hours of sleep this whole week - Joel knows that he’s not going to be able to do any of that, this Wednesday is going to kick his ass.
After throwing away the soaked rags away in the trash can that sits behind the garage, he heads back inside, washes his hands, and grabs a small brown wash cloth and runs it under cold water, making sure to ring it out so it’s not sopping wet, otherwise she’ll complain about it dripping down her neck, and he doesn’t wanna hear it.
Joel walks into the living room and spots Annie laying on the brown sectional that’s against the huge front window. The suns blocked by the blackout shades that are partially over the window, a beam of light shines through the sliver in the middle.
“There you are,” Annie purrs, shifting to her side to look at Joel. “Worried me for a second.” He can tell she’s sobered up since he left her in the bedroom over an hour and a half ago. She showered, her damp blonde hair clings to her shoulders and neck, she’s wearing Joel’s gray sweatpants and his Texas Longhorns shirt.
Before he lost his love for her, this would’ve had Joel drooling while crawling to her, then fucking her into oblivion. But now, he has no physical reaction to her anymore, hasn’t for two years. Any time she tries to initiate anything sexual, Joel’s body doesn’t react - April fifth, two-thousand twenty-two was the last time they fucked and there was no attachment from Joel. He only did it to see if the chemistry and spark was still there, which it was not. It’s pretty sad if you really think about it.
Yeah yeah, Joel mumbles as he slightly bends over and sets the washcloth on her forehead while she just stares at him. He can’t help but feel livid about this morning, it’s the latest she’s come back and he can’t stop hearing Sarah’s, dad, on loop. It breaks his heart every time.
“You can’t keep doin’ this Annie.” Joel scolds her as he takes a step back, folding his arms over his puffed chest, “This is not healthy, or safe for you.”
Annie sits up, moving the cloth to the top of her head, and stares back at Joel, her bright blue eyes glowing, he can see the gears turning in her brain. “Wait…what?” Her expression is one that Joel hasn’t seen since she was sober, it’s like she’s actually listening to what he has to say. Which rarely happens anymore.
Now he’s getting angry, because she’s acting like she’s done nothing wrong or that this is all normal - which it’s not. Joel can’t help but scoff at her, “You’re a piece of work, ya’ know that? Did you not hear Sarah this mornin’ when I had to carry your drunk ass to bed?”
“No, I-“
“Didn’t think so.” He turns to walk away, he can’t have this conversation right now because he will snap on her. Then that will be something he will regret.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annie stands up and walks to him, the cool rag being thrown to the floor, “Huh?”
Joel spins around and in seconds in her face as he calmly, but strongly tells her, “I’m filing for divorce ‘n full custody of Sarah. That’s what I mean.”
“You can’t- Joel, no-“ Annie can’t form a sentence, she’s speechless from his threats, which she knows he’ll act on. Joel knows it too and he’s not scared, so he starts to walk away again. But Annie snags his left forearm, forcefully spinning him to face her, the pleading demeanor now forming into an evil one.
“You are not taking my daughter.” She snarls, her eyes never leaving him in a death stare, her body is vibrating from the adrenaline flowing. “Over my dead body, Joel.”
Joel can’t help but smirk at her sudden confidence, even though he knows she somewhat means it, there’s no way she’s gonna stick to it. “You’re already halfway there,” he leans down so he’s inches away from her face and whispers, “Why don’t ya’ go finish the job for me?” He knows he shouldn’t say it, but he can’t help himself - he’s been a doormat for so many years.
Something changes in Annie’s eyes, something dangerous. Joel should’ve seen it coming, but he doesn’t or at least not until it’s too late. Annie winds her right hand back and smacks Joel across the face, her acrylics scraping his cheek and tip of his nose. Fucking asshole, she whispers behind tears filling her eyes. Joel can’t do anything but smirk with his tongue in his cheek as he stands back up and just turns around to leave.
“You know,” he’s about to reach the corner that leads to the garage when he hears it, “A real husband would help his wife, not abandon her when she really needs him.” This punches Joel in the gut more than the slap did, because all he’s done for the past four years is be the husband who takes care of his wife who has an addiction, multiple, that she won’t admit to.
He’s the one who’s given up everything for her, he can’t remember the last time he had fun or a night to himself - his life revolves around Annie. But he has no fight left in him, he wants to give up on this and he has every right to. Joel knows there’s nothing left for him to do or to try to fix - this is the end.
“Same could be said ‘bout the wife.” He mumbles loud enough for her to hear and he sees the vengefulness and pain spread across her face before he continues to leave. Snagging his keys off the counter where he left them, Annie continues to cry and shout at Joel; everything from I’m sorry, to fuck you, Joel, to you’re not taking my daughter, until he slams the door behind him.
Now in his truck, Joel flips between skipping work or sucking it up and going in, but he decides there’s no way he could have a good work day, or even be productive. He’s simply too exhausted to be any kind of help to anyone right now. As he exits the cul de sac and hits a main road, Whitney st, he grabs his phone from the seat next to him and calls Tommy, he knows he’ll understand. Tommy’s the only one who Joel can really talk to about the things going on with Annie, so he knows how bad it is.
After the first four or five rings, he picks up, “Hey Joel, what’s up?” With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the phone to his ear, Joel sighs and tells him he’s not gonna make it in today.
“Annie again?”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow ‘bout it all.” He sighs, turning down one of the million dirt roads, Cherry Ave, in silence.
“Alright, go get some sleep, big bro. Tell Sarah I said hi for me. ‘Kay?”
Will do, see ya. Joel hangs up and throws his phone back on the leather seat next to him, then moves to turn up the radio so he can mindlessly listen to it.
“There are days every now and again
I pretend I'm okay
But that's not what gets me
What hurts the most
Was being so close”
“Damn song,” he mumbles as he leans to his left and grabs his pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes while listening to the music. He grabs one and lifts it to his lips where it sits between the top and bottom, he flicks his baby blue lighter on and holds the flame on the end of the cigarette, quickly glancing to the road and back while he inhales lightly at the same time, making sure it’s lit. Once he feels the rush of nicotine hit his throat and flow through his chest, and a cloud of white smoke fills the truck and billows out the window, a sense of calmness swarms him from the inside out.
Joel continues to drive aimlessly for the next two hours, losing count of how many cigarettes he smokes, just wishing him and Sarah could just run away and start somewhere else. A place where she could flourish without the fear of her mother, where Joel could be the father he knows Sarah needs. And who knows, maybe even find someone for himself, to be an actual partner.
The dinging of his gas tank brings him back to reality, he glances down and sees the light is on, god damnit. He did not mean to drive that much, he needed this tank to last him till Friday but looks like he’ll have to fill up now and be broke for the rest of the week. Luckily he was on his way back, so he’s close to the city so he can make it to a Speedway that’s less than a couple blocks away.
“Three eighty-six?” He can’t help but laugh in disgust at the ridiculous gas prices as he pulls up to a pump,“What a joke.” Shutting his truck off, he rubs his eyes with his fingertips to help relieve the fuzziness that sits behind them. After recouping himself enough to go inside, he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and checks how much cash he has, pulling out two fifties and six twenties. Not as bad as he thought.
While debating which would be the best financial decision, his stomach growls like a pack of wolves. It hits him that he hasn’t eaten anything - he glances at his wrist watch that reads eleven twenty-two - in about twenty hours and it’s starting to affect him.
Joel remembers Jes’s Diner is only a mile away from here, his favorite place for brunch, which sounds fantastic to him right now. So he decides to use one of the fifties and one of the twenty’s, seventy should get him close to a full tank. So he puts the rest of the cash back in his wallet and hops out his truck to go pay for his gas before he heads to the diner.
—
Renae takes one last puff off her cigarette before she throws it to the sidewalk and smooshes it with her larger part of her heel, squishing it making sure it’s out. She’s meeting up with Gia and Bianca at the same restaurant they always do when they come home, Jes’s Diner, it’s just before noon when she gets there. She feels relaxed mainly because she doesn’t have any appointments until three thirty PM, so she can spend a good chunk of her time with her sister and niece.
The restaurant has an outdoor seating area with multiple large fans on the ceiling which helps to keep the air flowing, and since it’s the middle of May in Austin, it's warm.
“Auntie!” Bianca basically yells and leaves her chair to run to Renae when she spots her about two tables away. “Hi Lovebug!” Renae cheers back as she holds Bianca under her armpits and lifts her up into a tight hug, slightly swinging her small body side to side. I missed you so much, Bianca mumbles into the crook of Renae’s neck, and she tells the girl the same before she walks on over to the round table where Gia sits with rosy cheeks and a warm smile.
The cement causes her white colored heels to take over the slightly enclosed area, if she’s getting looks or stares she doesn’t care. Renae always has heels on her feet - it’s a rare sight for her not to. The only place she doesn’t is at the gym - other than that, you never see her without them. She knows the clicking of them on hard surface floors can annoy or distract a lot of people, but she doesn’t let the opinions of others influence things she loves.
And her main love will always be her heels - next to Bianca and Frankie.
“Alright B, sit down please.” Gia looks up at Bianca, who’s still in Renae’s arms, “You’re gettin’ too big for that, soon you’ll be as tall as Auntie Renae.” She can’t help but laugh as she watches Renae let Bianca down to the floor and turn to face her.
“And hi, Mrs. New York!” Renae smiles and slightly bends over to hug Gia, so she doesn’t have to stand up from her chair. Gia coined that name for herself when she first moved and, when Renae started saying it, it just stuck. So she calls her that every time, it’s even Gia’s contact name in Renae’s phone. Hi baby, Gia hugs her tightly for a moment, then let’s go and let's Renae walk to the other side of the table and sit down.
As she sits down she adjusts the hair clip that holds her vibrant loosely curled hair so it’s off her neck. Even with the fans, the Austin heat is rampant this time of day and year almost unbearable if not taken seriously. Gia always tells Renae she’s crazy for still having her vibrant long, thick hair down or how she wears jeans a lot of the time but Renae has become accustomed to the weather by now, after living in Texas for her whole life.
“So what’s new? Give me all the ‘deets!” Renae questions as she rests her chin in her right palm, while her left hand lays on the table. Bianca’s coloring one of the kid menus that they have here while Gia starts talking about their wonderful little world.
“Well, little miss Bianca here,” she lightly pinches Bianca’s cheek before letting go, “just finished her fifth grade class and will be at the middle school next year!” Renae looks over to her and she can’t help but grin from ear to ear about her niece. Look at you lovebug, she raises her left hand causing her jumble of thin gold bracelets to slide down her arm, for a high five and Bianca returns with a slap. She then goes right back to her coloring and not really paying attention to the conversation between Gia and Renae.
“Hi, welcome to Jes’s! I’m Ariana and I’ll be your server today. What drinks can I start you beautiful ladies with?” The cheery waitress asks as stands between you and Gia with her small notepad and pen.
“Chocolate milk, please!” Bianca tells her, lifting her eyes off her menu for a second before going back to it. Alrighty, miss? Ariana nods her head towards Gia. Just a water with a lemon, thank you. Renae’s thrown off by her request, usually the two of them would get the bottomless mimosas. She cocks her head to the side at Gia, who’s now trying to avoid eye contact.
“And for you miss?”
“Uh, I’ll do a mimosa, please.”
“Perfect, I’ll be right back with those for you guys!” Then she’s off to retrieve their drinks.
“Just water? What is goin’ on?” Renae can’t help herself, she’s gotta know if something is up because the only time Gia will order only a water is when-
“Wait- are you pregnant?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as loud as she did. Gia can’t help but laugh and nod her head at Renae’s expression. Oh my god, Renae squeals as she scoots her chair back enough for her to stand up and slide over to the other side of the table where Gia is.
Gia stands up and Renae is finally able to see the medium sized bump that she’s been hiding. “Holy fuck- congratulations!” Renae says in pure love and shock as she hugs her younger sister, “What are you having?” Renae can't get the words out fast enough before she proceeds to pay attention to her bump. Hey, little thing in there, she whispers as she lightly holds her hands over the sundress that covers her sister's growing belly.
“We’re not sure, so we decided we wanted to find out in the delivery room. Robert is excited, he’s gone out and gotten piles and piles of things for the baby - a mix of boy things, girl things, and neutral things. I almost feel like he’s more excited than I am,” Gia laughs before Renae hugs her for the last time before returning to her seat.
“How do you feel, lovebug?” Renae asks Bianca, as she dabs her waterline with the napkin, trying her best to not ruin her makeup. I can't wait to be a big sister, I’m gonna be just like you auntie! The three of them giggle amongst themselves as Ariana comes back with their drinks.
“Are we ready to order or do we need a couple more minutes?” She asks with her animated hands and voice, the three of them look at each other and agree they're ready. Bianca orders first, followed by Gia, and then Renae. Ariana tells them it should be out soon and to just wave for her if they need anything until then.
Gia and Renae get back to chatting about Gia’s life in New York and with the new baby on the way. Renae is ecstatic for the both of them; but that hidden jealousy creeps up on her even though Gia and Robert totally deserve this. She just wishes those kinds of life changing experiences would happen to her before they did with Gia, or even in Renae’s life at all.
Maybe it’s an older sister thing. Always wanting to be the first to do something special, which she did; Renae was the first one in the family to get a college degree and to become an extremely successful woman, a lawyer even. She’s highly proud of herself for believing she could do it, but there’s still something missing and with Gia having it all, it hits Renae directly and hard. But after really thinking about what exactly that something is, she gets it.
Love.
“I have to pee, I'll be right back. B, do you have to go?” Gia asks her daughter, who agrees and goes along. Renae’s left by herself, with her second mimosa in hand, she decides to chug it so she can get a little buzz to take the edge off. She wasn’t expecting to hear this wonderful news from Gia but something about it just hurts Renae’s heart.
When she swallows the last bit of the mixture of orange juice and champagne, she spots this handsome older looking man on the other side of the outdoor patio, seated and eating by himself.
The man looks disheveled, but in a hot way, and Renae feels her heart skip. His hair is curly, but messy, she wonders if the grays she observes are natural, or from a source of stress - maybe a mix of both. What really convinces her is the scraggly beard that also has grays throughout. His age lines prove her point more. The two scratch lines on the tip of his large nose catches her off guard just a bit, she’s not sure what to make of them. His bulky arms stretch out the fabric of his soft dark shirt, she can visibly see the sweat stains that are forming in his armpits while he cuts his food up and brings it to his mouth.
Renae can't stop staring. Her light green eyes won’t leave the man that sits on the other end of the restaurant, who’s simply eating. There’s just something about him that has her feeling foggy and dazed, maybe it’s the way his sharp jaw moves as he chews or the way his large hands grip his silverware and wrap around the handle of the coffee mug making them look like they’re meant for a mouse to use.
Who are you? she whispers to herself right before Gia and Bianca return from the bathroom. At the same time Ariana comes back with a tray that holds three different plates of food that is steaming hot.
—
Joel’s been to Jes’s Diner many times over the course of his life, so much that he doesn’t need to look at the menu. He gets the same thing every time; An omelet with all the fixings, a side of potatoes, two over-easy eggs, and a small side of bacon.
”No Sarah today?” Polly, the forty year old waitress asks, as she pours the black coffee into the mug that’s on the table. Polly and Joel were neighbors growing up, she was like one of the guys. So whenever Joel comes in, she gets his order.
“At school. It’s her last week as a fifth grader ‘n I don’t like it. Not ready for her to grow up ‘n leave.” He states as he grabs a packet of sugar and opens it, pouring it slowly, then picking up the silver spoon to stir the mixture. “It’s not easy, but you got this. I’m sure about it.” She chimes, trying to perk him up even just a little.
Thank you, he puts a weak smile on his face as he takes a sip of the steaming coffee, wake me up just a little bit, he thinks to himself. “I’ll be back with your food, dear.” He nods and thanks her again, taking another sip trying to jump start his head for the second time since Annie came home this morning.
While he waits for his food he does a quick overview of the patio; ten large round metal tables spaced out and about 8 of them are filled with small groups of families or women chatting amongst themselves. Then he spots her. This woman is stunning, even though his view is somewhat obstructed because of the other woman and young girl with their backs to Joel.
Her vibrant orange hair seems like it’s clipped back, but a few pieces hang in front and on the side of her face. Joel can tell she’s younger by the way she maintains herself, her eyebrows are thin but arched and her lips plump with a light red tint to them. Her skin is tan, like she was just at the beach or somewhere similar, strong thin tan lines from a bikini lace her skin. The way her eyes light up and her smile gleams in the conversation she’s having has Joel almost drooling into his coffee.
Her black tank top sticks to her skin perfectly, like it was made for her, causing her cleavage to spill out a little. He leans back in his chair a bit so he can catch a glimpse of her legs and he has to stop himself before he gets caught; light washed jeans that hug her waist, thick thighs, and calves perfectly.
Exactly his type.
Joel feels his cock grow in his pants as he continues to watch her. He shifts from in his seat and his belt buckle to try to relieve himself, then shifts his eyes back to his Home Screen on his phone that sits flat on his table, trying to think of anything other than this woman that has him feeling like a creep.
“Omelet, potatoes, eggs, and bacon for you, sir!” Polly comes back to the table and sets down his couple plates of hot food, his stomach grumbles again. Joel clears his throat and thanks her again and she’s off to work other tables.
Joel instantly dives into his omelet, eating like someone who hasn’t eaten in days - which he kind of understands, to an extent. Hopefully he won’t have to feel that way anymore, which brings him back to his fight with Annie and the divorce. He starts building a quick checklist of things that are his; The house, his truck and her car, has a full time job, all the bills are in his name - even her phone bill - and still has plenty of time for his daughter.
He shouldn’t have much of a hard time getting what he wants out of this situation, the only thing he could see is Annie trying to come after Sarah. Which Joel has a reasonable concern about because he knows first hand how bad her addictions are and that she has shown no interest whatsoever in trying to better herself. She’s simply not mentally competent to be a parent to Sarah, not even the slightest.
Joel has given her chance after chance to get help and she denies it each time. Says she’s gonna do better and actually try, but that never lasts more than two weeks, at most.
After two hours of breaking down everything and eating about ninety percent of his food, he’s finished everything but his couple strips of bacon that are left. He spots Polly walking his way so he stacks up the few plates and silverware he used and slides them to the edge of the table for her.
“Thank you, baby, you treat me so well,” she blushes, “but I wanna ask, everythin’ okay?” She points to her nose, suggesting what happened to Joel. He’s quick to dismiss it, Tommy’s kitten got me yesterday, he knows it comes off as a lie but he’s not ready to talk about his failed marriage with people. “Damn cats,” she fake laughs, catching onto his subtle warnings, “Well, here’s your check, just go up to Ben in the front and he’ll take care of you! Tell Sarah I say hi and I miss her dearly!”
“I will, dear, hope you have a good rest of ya’ day.” Joel nods his head and hands her two twenties before she picks up the dishes, you’re too kind, she smiles then starts her clean up process and she’s gone.
But before Joel stands up out of his chair he turns his head and looks for the gorgeous redhead from before, but he’s not prepared for how close she is to him. She’s a few feet away from him, her and the two others she was with are walking to the front door but they pass his table.
She’s even more beautiful in front of him; she looks to be around Joel’s height, five ten-ish, the heels make it difficult to tell. The sight of her under the table before was an absolute understatement of how she actually looks, her ass and thighs look like they could suffocate Joel - in the best way - and he can’t help but melt at the sight of her belly not being flat, she looks healthy. Proportional to her body type. Far too many women don’t have the love handles that Joel loves to grip or the plush skin he can bite into - his cock twitches again, making Joel incredibly aware of the situation.
Just wanna tear her ass apart, fuck her until she’s pleading for me to stop. Mhmm. Wonder if she likes it rough? Or if she’s a sweet little thing, who doesn’t have much experience… ‘n will let me show her a good time.
It’s quick, maybe three seconds but it feels like eternity the way they stare into one another. He’s infatuated with her and he hasn’t even spoken to her. Joel and her locked eyes, he memorizes the color; forest green with a hint of brown in the middle. He’s hit with the scent of vanilla, jasmine, and a faint smell of cigarettes, a smell that he would love to come home to everyday and take over the smell of his sawdust and sweat.
Instantly he can feel his cheeks warm and his lips curve into a dumb smile, and to his shock, she does the same thing - then she’s around the corner and gone, like an apparition.
Joel shakes his head twice, what am I doin’? He waits a minute or two for his dick to calm down, so he doesn’t make a fool outta himself, what is goin’ on? Joel can’t remember the last time he felt like this. It’s not like he doesn’t get the random moms of the neighborhood or in the PTA that flirt with him and try to be extra friendly. They’re nice and all, but he’s never been attracted to anyone other than Annie and if it wasn’t her, it wasn’t anyone.
After about five minutes of him yelling at himself in his head, he stands up and heads towards the front to pay, leaving him only eighty bucks left for the week, and heads back to his house.
Now back in his truck, only about ten minutes away from his shell of a home, he’s now back in his head about what to do. He figures the best thing tonight is to grab Sarah from school and head straight to Tommy’s. He wants to avoid as much trouble as possible because he hasn’t told Sarah anything about his decision, he just hopes he can do it before Annie manipulates the whole thing like she always does.
Pulling into the garage, he notices Annie’s Toyota gone, thank fuck. Joel for the second time today feels totally relaxed, parks his truck, takes the key out of the ignition and heads inside to shower and pack for him and Sarah. He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but he knows it’s the only way to stay separated from her because she won’t leave when asked to. That’s when the real problems begin.
As he walks into his house he’s instantly confronted with the smell of weed, it smells like it could be coating the walls. Joel never understood why she smoked in the house when they have a balcony from their bedroom and a back patio off of the kitchen. Joel doesn’t have a problem with weed, he smokes more than most people know, but he absolutely despises when Annie smokes in the house. It takes forever to get the smell out of the rooms and furniture, clothes even.
A part of him feels like she does it on purpose, because she knows that Joel is going to take care of it before Sarah gets home. So it’s almost like her form of punishment for whatever Joel did is response to her bullshit behavior.
“So much for a shower,” he grunts and begins opening all the windows and doors that have screens in them to avoid bugs getting in. He turns on any and all ceiling fans, lights some incense, and begins wiping down countertops in the kitchen - where he found his rolling tray and his weed, not hers of course.
About twenty minutes later, Joel’s alarm starts blaring on his cell phone in his back pocket, causing him to jump and drop the towel he was ringing out in the sink. He pulls it out and hits the stop button and checks the time. Two fifty five PM it says, informing him that he’s got thirty minutes to get to Sarah’s school. It usually takes at least twenty-five to get there from any of his job sites, so he gives himself plenty of time. But from the house the school is no longer than ten minutes away, which is nice, one of the main reasons why Joel picked the school - other than it’s the number one public school is his county.
Shit. He’s still gotta pick up around here and pack up her things, he really doesn’t want to come back later on. He needs to get outta here, preferably sooner than later. After double checking the house smells clean, closing all the windows and doors, he goes into Sarah’s room, which thankfully her door was shut and the only room that didn’t reek.
Joel can’t help but release a heavy breath and lean all his weight on the door, bringing his dry hands to his face and massaging his whole face in distress. He’s hit his breaking point; the lack of sleep, aggravation, disappointment, and sorrow that seep out of his skin and soul are escaping the strong man act he has to maintain.
He starts to weep into his hands as he holds himself up - he refuses to sink to the floor, he can’t bring himself to do it without feeling like a chump. Mainly because he’s breaking down in his ten year old daughter's bedroom. He’s had to keep a secret life for so long to other people, they just don’t know how bad it really is. He’s been through so much shit with Annie these past few years and he hasn’t asked for help, even though it’s been offered by Tommy and some of Annie’s friends who have come to Joel.
It used to mainly be that Joel was ashamed that he found himself and his daughter in this situation, and he didn’t want people to know his business. But now, he doesn’t care about that. He cares for Sarah and making sure she’s okay, that’s all that he needs to worry about right now.
He sighs, wiping away the tears he let slip through the cracks, and pushes himself off the door so he can grab his daughter's things. He grabs her empty soccer bag, sets it on her lavender purple bedding, and turns to her dresser and begins to grab clothes; shorts, shirts, leggings, socks, underwear, and her bathing suit. He slides over to her bathroom and grabs her toiletries that she has in a little bag in a drawer, bringing it over to the bag and zipping it up.
Joel figures they’ll stay at Tommy’s the rest of the week and all weekend. He just needs to leave the house, it’s suffocating for him to be here, too many memories - bad ones - for him to enjoy being here. Even though he’s by himself.
Takes him a shorter time to pack; his toiletries, work clothes, comfy clothes, and his bathing suit - it’s all he needs. With Sarah’s bag in one hand and his on his shoulder, he jogs down the stairs and moves to snag his keys so he can leave.
A sense of security takes over. Just knowing that he told Annie what he’s planning on doing and that Sarah is with him and not her, it’s relieving. He doesn’t have to worry about Sarah wanting to see Annie or asking questions about why, she already knows, most of it not all. He heads out to his truck and he’s on the way to grab Sarah.
With fifteen minutes to spare, he sits in the pickup line that’s full of a variety of trucks and cars waiting for their kid to come tiredly walking out. While waiting for her Joel decides to get a jump start and at least take a look online for some kind of divorce lawyer. If he’s gonna do it, he might as well start now. No backing out now.
Lawyers near me, he mumbles as he types into google, he has to scroll twice until a name sticks out to him. Without reading anything he clicks on R&R Law Firm, and he’s shocked when he sees a picture of two women and the one with red hair sticks out. It then clicks, that’s the woman from the diner.
Renae Russo.
—
Right after brunch, Renae took Gia and Bianca back to her apartment where they’ll be staying until Sunday afternoon. They’ve stayed at her place numerous times before so they know to make the place their own, and now with Frankie there Bianca has a little friend.
Renae has enough time to change out of her casual clothes and into her skin tight black dress, that covers her chest and goes to her knees, with matching black heels. She lets her curls fall from her hair clip as she teases the roots of her hair, creating volume and letting the curls loose; it’s a cute, messy but natural looking style that suits her perfectly.
“I’ll be back no later than six-thirty, love you guys!” She tells her sister and niece before she’s out the door and walking to her BMW. Shockingly, the weather calmed down a bit, it can’t be any hotter than seventy-eight or nine - way cooler than the ninety degrees it was earlier.
Traffic isn’t terrible, yet. She’s sure on her way home, it’ll be awful. It always seems like she gets caught in the worst traffic on the way home. She just can’t seem to find the right way back, she thought after ten years she would be a pro. But guess not.
Searchin’ kisses, the man she misses, the man that he longs to be.
Renae sings along to the one and only Amy Whinehouse, her favorite artist of all time. That’s her girl. It was her first concert at sixteen and Renae has been in love with her ever since then. She knows all Amy’s songs and has been to fifty percent of her concerts. Renae actually made it to her last show in twenty-eleven in Serbia, and we all know how that turned out. It was truly heartbreaking for Renae to witness and listen to, live.
So he tries to pacify her, cause what’s inside her never dies.
Suddenly her phone starts vibrating in her purse that’s sitting in her passenger seat, since she’s at a red light she reaches over and grabs it. Now more of a mumble than actually singing, she reads the name on her screen and she can’t help but smile. Her cheeks turn redder and redder, she can’t help herself from slightly biting her lip as she stares at the ten letter name.
Dominic Amaro</3
Renae’s favorite and most recent ex, the one that she just can’t let go of, but knows that she ultimately has to. After two years of dating, he had to move back to Italy to take care of his mother who became extremely ill and help with his two younger siblings, and although Renae understood completely, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t hurt by it. She saw herself marrying him, even having kids. She thought he was the one, but she was wrong.
But even after breaking up three years ago, they randomly call each other and will chat about anything and everything. Sometimes leading into phone sex… Or, quite often, if she’s honest. It’s one of the highest reasons why Renae hasn’t lost her mind completely. Dominic has the voice of an Italian man - that of a gentleman, not a mobster - his octave is low but his accent is smooth, almost like an Idris Elba, but Italian.
The traffic light switches to green as she hits the green accept button, raising the phone to her right ear as she manages to fly towards her job. Hi Dominic, she purrs with one hand on the wheel and the other on her phone, anticipating his smooth voice.
“Hi amore mio, how are you?” His voice is relaxed and Renae can tell he’s had a couple drinks, his accent is loose, not as strong as sober Dominic.
This kind of irritates her, but also not, because he can’t hold his liquor and that’s usually when a lot of their fights start, and Renae does not want to do that right now. If she was at home, she would absolutely rip into him and let him fight back - then fuck herself with her fingers while he talks her through it and strokes himself to the sound of her arousal and her deep moans.
Renae chuckles at his words as she pulls into the parking garage of her building, “Things are goin’ well, work has been busy and Gia came into town for this weekend. So I’ve been pretty happy.” She confesses, pulling into a parking spot and turning her car off, throwing her keys into her lap.
“Va meglio?” Are things getting better? Last Renae knew, Concetta had liver and kidney failure, but that was a couple months ago by now.
Before he says anything, she hears him heavily sigh and take a sip of whatever alcohol his choice is. That’s not a good sign, she mentally says while she quickly pulls her phone from her ear and looks at the time. Three twenty five. Fuck me, she mutters. Raising the phone to her ear again she hears him mumble something. What, baby? she asks him with sincerity.
She hates that she’ll have to shorten the conversation because from the context clues she’s picking up, this isn’t going to be good news. But Renae always puts her work first, which might be why she messes things up for herself - like marriage or kids. It’s just how she lives her life right now and she’s content in living with it, until otherwise she’s going to continue living this way.
To be less of an asshole than she already is, she lets Dominic vent about his mother and how she only has a little less than a year to live, and how his younger siblings are rays of sunshine but he feels terrible for them because they’re so young. Renae can’t help but feel her stomach tie into knots at the news while she walks through the parking garage and waits in the elevator. She met Concetta once when she came and visited Texas for a month, the sweetest little Italian woman ever - feisty too, Renae and her were two peas in a pod really. So even though she doesn’t have much to go on about her, Renae still feels awful for Dominic because no one, especially him, deserves to go through anything remotely similar.
“Amore,” she drags out, leaning her ass against the back wall of the elevator, “I’m sorry. I mean like, Damn- I wish you and your family didn’t have to go through this.”
“Prego, um- but the real reason I called is cause, uh“ Renae can tell he’s having a hard time getting his words across, she’s not sure if the language barrier or if he’s just struggling. Dominic’s English isn’t bad by any means, but Renae can tell after he moved back to Italy, he’s reverted back to speaking Italian all the time because of the way he speaks.
She’s now out of the elevator and on her office floor, waiting to walk into the long hallway that leads to her destination. Since she knows her office is occupied, she decides to finish her phone call. It's just something personal that she doesn’t want people to know about. Gia doesn’t even know that she’s still in contact with Dominic, not because Gia would be disappointed about it but just because Renae doesn’t want to have to explain any of this to anyone.
Another big reason she doesn’t want to bring it up is because she doesn’t even know how to break it down to herself. Renae has zero idea of what to make of the situation-ship with Dominic and she hasn’t needed a reason to. As far as she’s concerned, Dominic is just another man that she can’t let go of and she feels like he knows it.
She checks the clock on her phone one last time and she’s two minutes from being late, but there’s also no way she can just hang up on him, even if he understands that she has a client. Renae can’t help herself, she still loves him, or at least thinks she does.
“In a month I’m coming to Texas for a couple days-“
“You can stay with me!” she blurts out, and she’s not sure why she says it. Maybe it’s the desperation for some touch, a familiar one, or it’s the empathy in her that has made her feel for him. “Just send me your flight information and I’ll grab you and give you a place to stay. ‘Kay?”
A second of silence comes from the other end of the phone before he coo’s, “è così difficile non amarti…thank you.” It’s so hard not to love you.
This hits Renae directly in the heart, hard. She wishes she could jump through her phone and hug and kiss Dominic, but she can’t. This thirty-five year old man has her wishing she never lived in Texas and met Dominic in Italy, just living their happiest lives together.
“Well,” she bites her bottom lip again in a poor attempt to hide her smile, “you don’t make it easy yourself, Dominic.”
With both her shoulders occupied with bag straps, she leans her back against the wall outside two wooden doors, and stares at her pointy black heels. She hears a tiny chuckle leave his lips, she can visualize the slight pinkness that overgrows his face - much like herself.
Suddenly Rachel Yonkers - the other half of R&R Law Firm - walks out of the double doors. Causing Renae’s attention to come back full force and on her as she says, I’m headin’ out for lunch, see ya’ in a bit.
Slightly pulling the phone away from her mouth she responds, enjoy, as she smiles and waves her free hand. After the elevator doors close on Rachel, Renae’s attention is back on Dominic who correctly guesses she’s at work and then lets her go.
“Ciao, my love.”
“Ciao, Dominic.”
She hangs up and gently throws her head back until she rests on the wall with her eyes closed. What am I doing? This is gonna ruin me. He’s gonna ruin me forever. Somehow, she stops herself from falling down yet another spiral.
Throwing her phone into her purse, she takes a deep breath as she stands herself up, slightly shaking her whole body to get rid of the jitters that flow through her entire nervous system. Smoothing the sides of her black cotton dress, then swiping a strand of thick hair on her left side behind her ear, her fingers drag along the shape of her medium size hoops that hang from her ears, before walking through the double doors.
“Hi, Riley!” She chirps as she struts through the lobby of her office, head on to her assistant who’s behind her desk. Riley is fresh out of college, she has her criminal justice degree and is currently studying for her law degree - so she’s been with Renae for the past year and she told Riley this can be a permanent job for her.
“Afternoon, Ms. Russo. Jackie Cora is waiting for you!” She informs Renae as she staples a stack of papers together, setting them down on a pile.
Awesome, thank you, Renae smiles as she adjusts her black Micheal Kors purse that hangs on one shoulder and her laptop bag that hangs on the other. Her three thirty appointment is with Jackie Cora, who wants to file a PPO on her ex husband, Charlie Frey. He won’t stop harassing her with phone calls and emails about wanting to try again with her or come back to get some of his things, even though they aren’t there anymore.
Police can’t do anything other than tell him to leave while they’re present because there’s nothing legally they can do. But he hasn’t stopped since the divorce which was 5 months ago, and Renae was the one who did their divorce, so she knows how dirty and hasty Charlie is.
“Hi Jackie!” Renae chirps as she enters her office and walks to Jackie who’s sitting on the opposite side of her desk. Jackie stands up and shakes Renae’s hand, returning to welcome, then sitting down as she begins to divulge into the things that have been happening and what she wants done about it.
—
Staring at the printer, Renae’s right hand sprawls on the counter and her pointer finger taps impatiently, her nails causing a tink tink noise that echoes through her office. She glances away from the stack of papers that are slowly piling, to the clock above her and it’s been two hours since her and Jackie Cora have been together. She sighs as she goes back to the almost dead printer and she only needs one more page, which thankfully comes out with no issues.
“Here we go,” she announces as she grabs the stack of papers and turns around to bring them to Jackie. Who sits at the table surrounded by two large envelopes, her and Renae’s laptop, and Renae’s notes. “The last of your copy of things. This one is the letter that you’ll read in court on the thirtieth, so two weeks from today.”
Renae grabs the last envelope and seals the papers, then hands it over to Jackie who then collects her belongings putting them in her large tote bag. “Thank you so much Ms. Russo, god.” She stands up, her long brown hair thrown behind her shoulder as she steps to Renae and hugs her, which Renae returns warmly. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Please call me if anything escalates, please.”
After a few minutes of back and forth farewells, Renae is left alone in her office. She can finally relax, she did not realize how bad Jackie’s situation actually was. The amount of text messages and calls that she had printed out for evidence was staggering, Renae has never dealt with anything quite like this. But she has no doubt in her ability, that she’ll be able to help Jackie out - if anything it should be easy.
“Fuck, man,” she groans, throwing her curls up in a messy bun that sits on top of her head with loose strands all over - it’s more of a real messy bun than the cute, intentionally messy kind. She digs through her purse that sits underneath her desk - I need a cigarette after that fuckin’ debacle, aha - she feels the box with her finger tips and quickly snags them out.
Her mood swings instantly as she sees her Marlboro Reds in her hands. She’s not proud of it but her cigarettes are her anchors in life; always there when she needs them to. But she’s not a crazy smoker, a pack will last her four to five days a week sometimes. It’s something that works to take the edge of just a little while.
Which is exactly what she craves right now.
Phone in one hand, Marlboro Reds in the other, Renae struts to her door but just before she pulls her glass door open. Her phone on her desk rings. Motherfucker- she mumbles as she hangs her head down while shaking her head, every goddamn time.
It takes her a second before she commits to turning around and answering her phone as she plops down in her office chair. Renae Russo, she forces herself to sound light and cheery, because work comes before cigs.
“You have a call on line two, saying he wants to talk to you specifically,” Riley tells Renae, “I don’t recognize the voice at all.”
“Hmm, okay thank you, hon’.” Renae doesn’t waste any time. She’s quick to switch lines, putting the phone on speaker so she can move around freely without the problem of the cord. Pushing herself out of her chair, she stands up and leans over her desk just enough so her hands support upper body, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“Good evening, I’m Renae Russo and who do I have the pleasure of speaking to right now?” Even with her voice forced, she still genuinely wants to help whoever this person is - they just happened to catch Renae at a bad time. It’s a good five seconds of silence from her black phone that she now stares at from her position.
She knows some people have a hard time reaching out to divorce lawyers, which is why she gives them a chance. Uhh, he starts before he clears his throat, Renae can hear a faint mumbling that somewhat sounds like encouragement to continue.
“Hi Ms. Russo, um. I’m Joel Miller n’ I wanna- well, need to file divorce papers against my wife. Shit, ex-wife I guess now.”
Renae is trying her best to pay attention to what Joel just said because of the way his voice flows so effortlessly, but has much effect. Most southern accents sound the same to Renae at this point, she hears it all day long, she’s gotten so good that she can guess some towns or parts of the state based on their accents alone. However she’s stuck on his, there’s something about his that has her feeling gooey and mushy on the inside. Enough for her to have to sit back in her chair, leaning back just a bit as rests her elbows on the arms of the chair and she intertwines her fingers on her belly. Trying to contain herself and hide the butterflies that dare to escape.
“‘n I need to get full custody of my ten year old daughter.”
Her stomach drops and her nerves grow larger.
“Well, Mr. Miller,” she charms, leaning forward to grab a pen and a sticky note, “It’s a good thing you called me.”
#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller series#joel x oc#joel and sarah#joel the last of us#joel tlou#daddy joel#tlou joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x ofc#joel miller x original character#joel miller x oc#fluff#joel miller fluff#eventual smut#ANGST
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3 Billion Divorce - Lloyd Hansen Series (Completed)
Character: Lloyd HansenxFem!Richreader
Summary: Reader became a rich heiress after her grandfather chose her as his successor. This reason was enough to make her relatives want her gone. Our reader is a fighter; when she finds a chance, she offers a fake marriage proposal to a sociopath mercenary.
Words Count: 1750
A/N: Finally, I'm back. Never thought that I could make a post with Lloyd. It's been a while since the last time I posted. Hope you like it. Feedback and Reblogged are appreciated. Thank you!!!
The Italic font shows a flashback scene.
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Sometimes, simple things like waking up from a good sleep and having a coffee in the morning sound easy. To you, it sounds impossible.
Because of everyday…
Dangers always come to you. You must pay this price when you accept your grandfather's will.
Four years ago,
Your grandfather wrote your name on his will to become his successor and owner of all his assets. But you have to be 35 years old before you get everything.
After the lawyer revealed the will, your relatives wanted you dead, so the grandfather's money would go to charity, and they could use it.
Since then, your quiet life has turned to hell.
Your relatives have hired multiple killers and assassins to kill you or make it look like a suicide. It's been four years of living like this.
And there's only one more year left, the chasing getting more intense that you can't bear it anymore.
Like today, you’ve been hiding in the back seat inside your car because a black Cadillac has been chasing you all day.
“I had enough with everyone who wanted me to die. What a family huh? They were born as elites but they’re monsters.”
Your old bodyguard Jimmy, an ex-Navy hired to protect you who was busy shooting the other car, said, "Y/N. To beat a monster, you have to make yourself a monster."
His words got you thinking. You want revenge on your relatives, but you don't have the ability since they have already bribed the police and judges. You are already powerless; the only person who always stays beside you is your old bodyguard.
Before you could even get any idea, another car appeared from nowhere and hit yours.
“Jimmy!” You screamed the name that protected you before you lost consciousness.
When you woke up, you already being tied down on the chair.
You look at your surrounding where you got kidnapped. It’s different than usual. Usually, it’s a dark basement with a horrible smell.
But right now, you’re inside a nice room with a marble floor and Roman pillar. There’s also Renaissance painting and sculpture. It seems like you’re in a mansion or something like that.
The door suddenly opens, making you nervous because you are mentally unprepared to meet someone who will kill you.
A group of men who wear bulletproof come inside the room. Lastly, a man who wears a black turtleneck and light brown pants. But you can see everything he wears is from a luxury brand.
He leaned down and smiled at you.
"Hello Princess, my name is Lloyd Hansen. Welcome to my home”. His voice was low and deep.
‘His mustache looks ridiculous.’ You thought.
His hand grabbed a screen tablet to show you the money that had been transferred.
“Someone really wants you dead. Look at the money they gave me. This is the biggest payment that I have received." You could feel the joy when he explained while you have a life crisis.
You wonder how much your relatives pay to make you go. When you saw the number…
Ooh, it made you fume with rage.
40 Million Dollars?!
Your life is only worth 40 Million?!
With all the money you will get from your grandfather, your life is worth more than 40 Million.
‘You have to make yourself a monster.’ You remembered those sentences from Jimmy.
That gave you an idea.
This man Lloyd Hansen, you could use him to be the monster to finish all relatives that want you dead.
"Mr. Hansen, I don't want to die."
He nodded. "Me too sweetheart. But I've already got the money. They really want you to be gone quickly. Such a shame."
"If I gave you a proposal to make you richer, would you listen to my offer?"
Lloyd tapped his watch. "You have 3 minutes, sunshine."
“First of all, are you single Mr.Hansen?”
Lloyd let out a big laugh.
But you didn’t laugh; you studied his character. After spending time with your bodyguard Jimmy, he taught you how to read people. You figure this man Lloyd is a sociopath, and seeing him acting childish like this, you take a bet that he is still single.
With this, you took a chance and gathered your confidence. “I assume you are, that made my plan easier.”
You took a moment before offering the proposal because he would end your life if he didn’t like it.
"3 Billion Dollars."
'WHAT!' His soldier gasped when they heard the number.
Your offer got the attention, "I will give you 3 billion, but I want you to do something for me."
Even Lloyd never expected that. He did a background check on you.
You’ve been trying to stay alive for 4 years. That's when he knew you're an extraordinary woman.
One of his soldiers steps in, "I volunteer Miss Y/N."
Before you could see who it was, Lloyd had already shot him.
He smiled. "I could swim in that money, what can I do for you?"
"Marry me."
Lloyd's brain circuit stopped for a second. He laughed again, but he stopped when he saw you being serious.
"I didn't expect I would get proposed like this."
"You know I'm a rich heiress, and I will get my money next year. While waiting, I need someone to protect me and keep me alive. After that we will get a divorce and you will get other 2 billions. Right now, I could give you 1 billion. What do you think?"
There was a moment of silence. You could only hear the clock ticking. After he hears your offer, Lloyd turns his back and looks at the big French window. You couldn't see his expression.
Suddenly he turns around and walks towards you. Lloyd got on his knees and grabbed your hand. "You got yourself a husband, Mrs. Hansen."
'Yeah, you caught a monster.'
-One year later-
Lloyd arrived at your company and saw your bodyguard, Jimmy. Lloyd clicked his tongue. “Where’s my wife?” Jimmy pointed to the door behind him.
Lloyd pushed the door and saw you look busy signing some documents, not glancing at him.
He told your secretary, who was already scared, "Get out shithead."
After your secretary left, he turned around and saw you had crossed your arms while looking at him. Ooh, so you’ve been waiting.
He always loves your confidence. This trait must be one reason your grandfather chose you as the successor.
Lloyd smashed a piece of paper on your table. "What the fuck is this?"
"It's a divorce paper."
"Yeah, and you didn't even think to discuss it with me first ?"
"It's been a year Lloyd, we made a deal. Remember?"
It made Lloyd silent.
Of course, he remembered.
Lloyd wishes he could stop the time.
After he agreed to marry you, his life became more exciting.
Lloyd always dealt with different hitmen, politicians who wanted to steal your assets, assassins, and taking revenge on your relatives who wished you were dead.
With the 1 billion, he could get all the resources and finish his job quickly and quietly. He got new clients every day.
But most of all, Lloyd cherished the time spent with you. He loves every moment. You have a sharp mouth, don't take No for an answer; he likes it when you act like a boss to him. He wants to obey your order.
And…
The sex was also excellent. You weren't tempted at first. But who can't resist the charm of Lloyd Hansen? At first, it was just pretending to act like husband and wife. Give each other kisses on the cheeks, then move to the next step because of the alcohol effect that leads to sleeping together.
When you fell asleep on his chest, his fingers brushed your hair. You gave him a soft kiss on his forehead; it made him like a teenager who was drunk in love.
You were there every time he got hurt. You hired the best doctor to treat him. No one ever does that to him. He knew because you needed him to stay alive. But when he saw you holding his hand while he was bleeding, Lloyd knew you cared for him.
He likes having you near him and can't bear letting you go.
Lloyd realised his feelings when Jimmy came and gave him the brown envelope.
Lloyd knew what was inside the paper, so he ignored it. But that damn envelope keeps coming after you get the inheritance and you have left the house that you two shared. He felt like a used rag that you could just throw away.
He can’t imagine seeing you being single, and another man will try to pursue you.
"If you sign it today, the other 2 billion will be transferred to your account."
"I don't want to."
"6 billion then."
Lloyd's hand touches his left chest.
"What hurts me more is that you have the money and could finish this as soon as possible."
Then both of you will be strangers; NO, he didn't want that.
"After you use my body, you throw me away? You hurt my feelings sunshine."
You walk away from your table to stand in front of him.
"Lloyd, that's part of our deal. You protect me and I owe you one.”
You couldn’t believe he’s the same man who wants to kill you, and now he’s begging you not to leave him.
“And I paid my debt with money that I promised."
He sighed and said, "I do love money."
Lloyd held your hand that still wore the wedding ring; he rubbed it gently.
"But my dear wife, I love you more."
Your breath hitched when you heard his sudden confession. You were stunned to speak.
Lloyd grabbed your chin and gave you a passionate kiss. "I won't let this marriage end with divorce."
Lloyd kissed your forehead before he left you. Before he reached the door, he saw from the mirror your reflection. Your fingers touch your lips. At that moment, he knew you shared the same feelings. He will give you an offer that you can’t resist.
A/N : This Series has Completed.
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