#one piece dance series

[fanaticsnail]

The Break is Never Easy

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,175

Synopsis: You were invited as an artist to showcase your work at the bi-anual ball thrown for the marines. A decade has passed between you and your severance from your ex-fiance, old flames reigniting as tension builds throughout the night.

Themes: Marine!Bogard x Artist!Reader, right person wrong time, dance series fic, lost love, love reignited, angst, domestic angst, military themes, death suggested, love found once more, dancing, miliary ball/gala.

Notes: This fic is dedicated to the beautiful @i-am-vita, creator of the banner for the storyteller au collaboration for Mihawk's Sapsorrow. Bogard’s angsty chapter for the dance-fic series is all for you, dear! 

Tag List: @sordidmusings @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here

"You had my heart // I had yours too // My fight’s withdrawn, believe me // The break is never easy"

Staring at the ornate canvas encrusted in gold, you allowed a warm smile to rise against your lips to highlight your face with its mastery. This, your prized creation in the entirety of your collection, was the reason you had been invited to showcase your artistic skill within the ballroom of the upper class admirals within their bi-anual commemoration ball. 

The imagery within the oil painting showcased the grief of war: the violence within battle, alongside the families they left behind as they ran off to rid the world of the ravenous plague of piracy. A valley of skulls littered alongside the crystal shores of a cove you knew well in childhood; the woman within held resemblance to yourself, distant enough to not draw similarity within the crowd; the version of yourself a decade your junior as she clung to her marine lover. 

Her back had been riddled with bullets, the blood cascading down her back, as she shielded her Marine lover from their incoming carnage. Holding the woman by the waist, the expression of immense bittersweet adoration and sorrow, resembled the younger version of your ex-fiance. 

Crafting this depiction of war caused you to experience the pain over and over again, feeling the exact moment your heart shattered into a million pieces as he left you. The words he spoke to you, the tone he used, the feeling of his hand caressing your cheek to wipe your tear stricken face of the falling droplets of sorrow - all depicted in the utter chaos within the portraiture. 

You raise your glass of sparkling wine to your lips; the amber hue bounding from the glass as you take a small sip of the liquid within. The beading of the bubbles tickled against your tongue, the bitterness of the tannins dancing with the sweetness of the juice as it trickled down your throat. Feeling a presence beside you, you withdrew the glass from your lips and crossed your arms. 

“Is this one of yours?” the familiar brogue of the man who stole your ex-fiance from you caused your spine to tingle and the bile coat your tongue with its flavor. 

“Does it surprise you to be informed that it is?” you retorted, refusing to break eye-contact with your painting to spare the gentleman at your side the luxury of a glance. The warm chuckle felt oddly comforting despite your disdain for the gentleman. His voice held a brutish warmth within, almost pride in standing next to such an accomplished artist within their field. 

“Not in the slightest,” he confessed with the small shake of his head. At this comment, you turned to face him. Your dress danced at your feet, the slit from ankle to thigh flashing a moment of exposed skin to him as you drew yourself closer to the man who stole your love from you. He extended his right hand to you in a gesture for you to take it, an action you reciprocated by placing your right hand within his palm. 

“In fact, love,” he uttered, drawing your hand up to his lips and brushing them against your knuckles, “I have never been more proud to be proven wrong.” He withdrew your knuckles from his lips, the tingling sensation of his stubble remaining behind as he released your hand from his.

“Wrong in what capacity, Vice-Admiral Garp?” Your narrowed eyes held your question with more venom than what you had originally intended, the sting of the break festering beneath your skin the longer you stayed within the aura of your painting. The dryness of his humorless chuckle stung against the rapidly reopening wounds of your sorrow; both of your attention being recalled to the painting of the defeated woman within the arms of her Marine lover. 

“Artists serve a purpose in war,” he commented, bowing to the painting before turning and bowing further to you, “And I was wrong to trigger such a break in union from my right hand and his bonnie lass.” Upon hearing those words, you felt the swell of vindication in your blood swell to your heart and mind. 

If you remained the person you were ten years your junior, you may have yelled, screamed, hit, slapped and gnashed your teeth at the highly decorated vice-admiral at your side. In your decade of severance from your lover, you had learnt to navigate the upper class and to smolder the flames of your raw emotions enough to articulate your meaning verbally alone. 

“How honorable of you to repent a decade in the latter to the event, sir,” you nodded, your lips curling up in a smirk hidden by your chin’s tilt. Rising from your stoop, you held the brutal gaze of the vice admiral and remained unflinching in your resolve, “May the next time you assume weakness amongst the arts, you think back to this moment and make the wiser decision.” 

“Aye, that I will,” he nodded, a knowing twinkle held within his intense and wild eyes, his decorum faltering as the beast within him lurked beneath, “And should Bogard ever attempt to push back on a hard boundary again, I may yet acquiesce to his request.” The sting of the name of your ex-fiance had your blood swelling, the hurt remaining and resurfacing the longer you stood next to Vice-Admiral Garp. You stepped toward him, your body smothered by his great height, but unwavering in your resolve.

“May your heart be open to receive such pushback, Vice-Admiral,” you nodded, awaiting dismissal from one so high in the commanding chain against a meager civilian. 

“Rest assured, bonnie,” he stepped closer to you, clapping a hand over your shoulder in a gesture of familiarity, “It will be.” At that, and a brief nod, you both departed from your proximity to the painting while watching eyes held firm to your departure from the shadows of the corner of the room.

Bogard held onto your every word; his heart swelling at every syllable departing from your lips. He had not heard a whisper of your voice in over a decade, the silence plaguing him with each moment that passed in your absence. His eyes stuck to your frame at your departure from his commanding officer, and captain, Garp. The way your dress swelled at your feet, the way the hem cascaded down the exposed skin of your back to the hue of the material illuminating beneath the lights. 

After all this time, Bogard’s heart belonged to you. His soul screamed at him to rush forward and hold you in his arms, smothering you with open adoration and affection; regardless of who’s eyes were watching. The unspoken concept that was holding him from sprinting to your side, was the mystery surrounding your correspondence to the letters and calls he attempted to reach you with. 

He had stretched his resources until they snapped, breaking off relationships with communicators and transponders that held only silence in response to his heart dissected upon the pages of the parchment paper sent to you. For the first three years of serving Vice-Admiral Garp as his right hand man, he was an emotionless drone and lackey. His only outlet was sketching and scribing his mind to you and sending you his thoughts from the corners of the blue sea he had found himself traveling within. 

Nothing. Not a semblance of a whisper of a word. His heart was met with a cold, hard nothing. No simple “okay,” no complex hatred and rage scrolled onto a tanned page of scrap paper. Nothing. In that uncertainty, he had no idea how you would respond to such a swell of affection. 

Have you moved on? Were you married? Did you have a beau or a spouse? Did they court you the way he did? These questions remained unanswered, even as you reached for another glass of sparkling amber wine and drew up your emptied former glass to place on the tray. He had to know. Moving forward from the shadows, he glanced up at the painting his superior and the former holder of his heart were glancing at. 

His breath was stolen from his lungs as his eyes met the painting. The imagery was so intensely intimate, he felt a blush begin to litter his face with its warmth. He didn’t know how to feel, angered that his likeness was depicted in such a way, or proud that this moment of time was artistically captured within the brushstrokes within each injury depicted within. It was beautiful. 

Each movement within the piece had his heart cracking like porcelain meeting concrete at a harsh velocity. He could see your heart, your soul; his ex-fiance and holder of his affection depicting such unjust injury upon the canvas. 

You smiled at the attendees. Young marine cadets who sparked and jittered in place with their hands clenched and nervous had your heart swooning in memory of the man who held your heart in your youth. The small string orchestra swelled their melody, your body swaying in response to their bow-strokes and finger-picks almost against your will.

Several members of the attendees had joined the circular dance floor, swaying jovially to the rhythmic beat and swell of the melody with precision. You smiled a vocalless laugh in encouragement of a pink-haired cadet out of their depth dancing with a skilled marine dancer, Vice-Admiral Garp also spinning a widow on the dancefloor within his skilled arms. Although you had reservations about the vice-admiral, you did appreciate the intention behind the break he caused with your beloved. 

He wanted to protect you in a multitude of ways, your youthful wonder being your downfall in assuming the best in those around you. Your artistic soul was not meant for war, no matter the individual who held your affection. But in time apart from Bogard, your heart began to harden and turn wrathful. You changed your familial name, fled to a new beginning to make something of yourself as you processed your grief. 

With no name nor family to hold you back, you thrived in your artistry. Your popularity gained and nurtured you with each piece created by those rallying to your support. The first item you produced with a piece of your soul scribed within the canvas was the piece you were staring at with Garp moments prior. In the silver healing of your scars, you silently thanked Garp for prying you apart from your beloved Bogard to allow you to depict such pain upon the page.

As the serenade concluded, you applauded the musicians with your hands and a joyous cheer flung from your lips. You also applauded those brave enough to dance, nodding to Garp in respect with a small smile he reciprocated. 

A presence fell to your side, the familiar cologne drawing up to your face and alerting you of his presence before he had even spoken a word. You tensed, your newly emptied glass clutched firmly within your strong grip before an attendee wordlessly collected it from your fingertips. 

Neither of you could find the words to articulate to one another, feeling the tension gathering between your bodies with each inhale and exhale you took silently beside each other. You refused to be the one to break the silence. He was the one to end your union, he should be the one to apologize. 

Bogard did not know how to approach your silence: the same silence he was met with for each letter he sent to your residence depicting his heart; piece by piece. He wanted so desperately to cast all decorum and title aside and simply escort you outside and fall to his knees and beg for an answer to a single question be asked within the pages. 

Questions you had no knowledge of. No parchment paper, scrap nor call had found you on the other end of his many stretches from his base to your home. How could it have? You had changed all you were to become who you are. No name tied you to your history, abandoned alongside your heart cast aside by Bogard now standing beside you. 

“Would you care to dance?” he asked after clearing his throat, prompting you to turn your chin towards him to meet his darkened eyes. 

After all this time, his aura still held the same pull it always had. You felt your soul call for him, your body almost moving against its will to be pulled into his arms. You curtseyed deeply, prompting a small click of his tongue and turn of his head in displeasure. 

“I would be honored,” you uttered monotonously, extending your right hand to him for him to claim within his left. Your breath hitched at the contact, prompting you to mentally scold yourself at such a response. 

As your eyes met, you almost looked past the man he was now to the boy who held your heart a decade ago. His eyes held a similar reflection, meeting with the person you once were behind your eyes. Refocusing both your gazes on one another, you were met with an unfamiliarity you had no map, nor compass, to navigate. 

The hazelnut glow of his eyes still held you breathless within their depths, as much as your parted lips held his similar focus. He led you onto the dancefloor, the music swelling as he began to twirl you within his arms in front of his superiors, colleagues and underlings. You had no idea where to begin the unspoken conversation, feeling almost awkward within his arms the longer the silence was held between you both. 

Being the first to break the silence, you held your gaze firmly against his after huffing out a breath of frustration. Smiling, you darted your eyes between focusing on each of his, feeling incredibly exposed beneath his focus. 

“Are those new medals, sir?” you asked him, gesturing with your chin to his left breast pocket. 

“Sir?” he asked, his left hand gripping yours a little more firmly before relinquishing its intensity on your hand while holding firmly against your hand. “My darling, I don’t know what you-...” his words rushed out of his lips without restraint, a small cough from his throat refocusing his mental state with a deep inhale and exhale. 

“It has been a few years since last I held you in my arms,” he nodded, ushering you out to the side of him before twirling you within his arms. Your back fell flush with his torso, his every essence overwhelming you with emotions you thought to have buried a decade ago. “I have earnt a few titles over the years, yes. I appreciate you taking the time to notice.” 

“Of course I would notice, Bo,” you answered him with as much hase as he did earlier, taking a moment to collect yourself as he swayed you within his arms. You briefly shook your head, allowing him to wield you as an extension of himself with another twirl; this time ending with you facing him. “I always notice.” 

He hummed in response. There was no way he could ask all questions plaguing him for each swell and step of the melody from the orchestra. In lieu of interrogation, he opted to focus on you externally. He focussed on the ornate way your hair was drawn up, the way you held your face beneath its painted and accented appearance, the way your dress clung to your body and held an illusionary barrier between tastefully covering the necessities while leaving little to the imagination for what falls beneath. 

Both closing your eyes, you fell almost organically against one another. The automatrons beneath your inhibitions had your chests pressing against one another, your foreheads holding a similar fate with their proximity. As soon as his forehead was pressed against your own, you felt the person you were a decade ago resurface and lean towards him.

“You-...” his voice fell short, the stutter and waver in his voice had your heartstrings tugging like a wolf leashed beneath its owner's muzzleing. Opening your eyes, your brows arched up in the center as they fell on Bogard’s lengthy eyelashes. You witnessed his eyes darting beneath the small shield of flesh, dreamlike in its make while searching for a word or phrase. 

“We were perfect, weren’t we?” you smiled through your sigh, his eyes opening to meet yours at your words, “We were the right people for each other, but the wrong time. You were a Marine in the prime of your life, while I was an experience-.”

“-You were everything to me,” his voice cut your sentence like shattered glass through tender flesh. The raspy tone of his voice matched with the intensity of his eyes had you truly wanting to believe his words. Your breath hitched, unable to find stability within the large gathering of people on the dancefloor. 

Bogard continued to lead you through the dance, silent and brooding through each twirl, spin and sachet. His questions continued to swirl behind his lips, his brow furrowing and deepening the more the dance continued to leave his questions unanswered. 

“You never gave me a whisper of where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay or struggling,” he began, his heart pouring from his lips in a hushed whisper, “You were to be my wife. My love, I would’ve never accepted the promotion should I have known the agony I would endure at your silence. I would have become a sword for hire, a bounty hunter-.”

“-And I would have never asked you to make such a sacrifice, my heart,” you confessed, feeling the music begin to decrescendo its swell and teeter off, “I loved you, and you held my heart within your hands,” you drew yourself closer to him, feeling the final dip in his movement before he drew you into an embrace against his body, “You were my love to lose, and I will be forever grateful to be a chanel for your affection.”

Applause resounded within the hollows of the room and reverberated from the dome of the room. You broke from Bogard’s embrace and bowed to him, and he to you. 

“We would have been best side by side,” he confessed, his lip stuttering beneath his words, “I would have had you with me. My light,” he continued, stepping towards you and reaching to reclaim your fingertips to brush against him, “My heart. You were mine-.”

“-I was yours, Bogard,” you nodded with a false smile to mask the pain resurfacing, “And now our light is gone, and the break was not easy on either of us.” You stepped away from his outstretched hand, subtly shaking your head at him and attempting to stop the rapid rise of familiar sorrowful emotions within your heart. 

Taking your bottom lip beneath your top teeth, you held your widened eyes fixed on  his to warn him not to pursue you in your retreat before you left the dancefloor - a warning he refused to follow, even if it was commanded by the most superior officer in the chain of command. He had lost you once, and the memory of you was once again slipping through his fingers in each moment he watched you turn away from him.

“Let her be,” Garp’s voice broke him from his silent brooding, Bogard’s jaw clenching as his teeth ground behind his firmly clasped mouth, “Just let her be for a moment before you chase her.”

“Sir?” Bogard asked, his brow arching up at his superior officer in question. Garp’s stern expression began to falter beneath his hardened exterior. A grin rose to his lips, his eyes holding a foreign twinkle usually reserved for the pursuit of a particularly difficult adversary. 

“She is a rare soul to walk among us mere mortals,” he confessed, his eyes fixed on the retreat of your body as it disappeared through the threshold of the exit, “And she needs to be treated as such.” Turning to his underling, Garp clenched his firm hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze beneath his wide grip, “Allow her the luxury of navigating her own feelings first before you confess your own to her.” 

Bogard nodded, his broad hat covering his eyes to shield the emotions gathering behind them. He could see how you were struggling beneath your learned hardened exterior, truly unsure as to who the person you had become really was after all this time. All he knew within his soul was you were his, and he is still yours. 

Upon exiting the central floor your dance was held upon, you breathed in a heaping gulp of air unoccupied with the sting of unnatural perfumes, colognes and lotions within the dancefloor. You hang your head back, lulling it upon your shoulders within the solitude the gardens provided for you. 

“May I join you?” the familiar voice of your ex-fiance asked you, prompting you to both repress a groan of frustration within your lungs while your heart cried out in affirmation of his presence. Your internal conflict did not provide you with any resolve within your being, prompting you to provide a half-hearted shrug and a nod in response. 

Stepping closer beside you, he felt uneasy in your radiance. He took the opportunity in your own internal argument to look over the way your dress clung to your body. Raking his eyes slowly, he drew them up from your shoes, to your calves, to the split in material against your thigh which prompted his breath to hitch. He slowly withdrew his gaze from the small glimpse of flesh to your hips, chest, exposed neck and face - your brows continuing to be knit with a mixture of confusion, rage and sorrow. 

Before he could utter a single word or compliment your way, you spoke with your sharpened tone, causing him to stumble in his own mind.

“What do you want from me, Bogard?” you asked him, turning to face him with your heart weighing heavy within your chest, “I gave you everything. I gave you my youth, my body, my time, my heart, the prime of my life - leaving me in this shell of the person I once was, no longer an object of desire-.”

“-You never answered a single letter,” he interrupted your train of thought, prompting your frown to deepen in the centre of your forehead, “I sent you mountains of wasted paper for you to not return a single scrap of a word, nor semblance of a phrase. I would have appreciated a simple reprimand, a crude expression telling me to leave you alone-.”

“-Bogard, need I remind you that you left me?” your voice elevated to a small and firm argumentative tone, your jaw clenching with your every word, “You left me. You left me on that island with a simple relaying of the word from your commanding officer. One that he relinquished tonight, in fact: ‘Artists have no place in war. I shall leave you now so we are not burdened by the loss of one another’,” you mocked him, stepping closer to his body diminishing within the shadows. 

You allowed a dry and humorless laugh to escape your lips as you stepped closer. Allowing a moment of tension to continue to swell between you, you snarled at him with your eyes narrowed.

“Did you enjoy my painting of us?” you asked him, your brow and lip twitching in anticipation for his response. You expected anger and wrath at the depiction of his likeness within the canvas, his passionate ignition of flamed fury directed at you. In its stead, you received a small whisper in response. 

“I saw your heart reflected on its page,” he uttered, stepping closer to you with his head bowed, “A heart I have tried so desperately to reach in the decade that has held us apart.” Your heart fluttered with its rage within you, desiring to both shove him to the side and leave, but also draw him close for an embrace. 

“After all this time, you continue to chase me?” you spat at him, your heart now elevated to a heightened pace of anxiety and a rush of rage, “Tell me. What do I have that a flurry of others do not? What do I have that another cannot return to you? That another that would be more suited to provide for you, could not? Tell me, Bogard. What do I have to offer you-?” 

Bogard stepped in, claiming your waist within his left hand and holding you flush against his chest, while his right hand claimed your left cheek within his gentle caress. 

“You still hold my heart,” he whispered, his breath dancing on your lips on each syllable, “You rule my heart,” his words drew you in, your eyes swelling with the emotions of your youth. “I would build a citadel around your leadership, as queen of my heart,” he continued, his eyes dancing between your own. Your breath hitched as his eyes met with your parted lips, his own parting as his body swelled to join yours all the sooner. 

“You command my every being, in all these years apart,” he continued, reaching his right hand up and weaving his fingertips within your hair, anchoring the heel of his palm against your jaw and forcing your eyes to meet with his, “I never stopped loving you.” 

At that, his body surged forward; his lips claiming yours beneath his in a slow and firm movement. Your eyelashes were immediately flooded with silent tears spilling from the corners and littering your cheeks. Your soul yearned for him, surging your body to react to his touch with your own desperation. 

You had never stopped loving him either.

Hooking your arms around his neck, you pulled him into yourself with your heart pulsating with a dangerous rapidity for each second you continued this embrace. He ushered you over to the darkened corner of the wall, coaxing your body to respond further to his ministrations within the shadows to hide from prying eyes. His tongue darted out to dance with your own, a groan siphoned from his lips as you reciprocated his advances. 

You unhooked your arms from his neck, choosing to grip at his collar beneath your fingertips and drawing him impossibly closer to you. The ruckus from within the halls had you pay no mind, too swept within the arms of one another to have a thought or care cast at its elevation. The music swelled within the room, Bogard continuing to operate with his lips collecting each scrap and semblance of affection you allowed him to skillfully claim.

It was as if the pain of the decade ceased to exist at this moment. The two of you pictured the life you would have had within the arms of one another: marriage, stability, equality, relationships being at the forefront of this illusionary divergence. 

At the booming voice of Vice-Admiral Garp within the ballroom, addressing the soiree of Marines within, Bogard broke his lips away from yours while panting desperately against your lips as he listened to the orders of his superior officer. At that break in caress from the word of Garp, the illusion shattered and you were swept back to your position as the ex-fiance to the right hand of the Vice-Admiral. 

Bitterness swelled within your heart, you opting to push Bogard away from your arms as his attention was pulled elsewhere. His eyes quickly darted back to you upon this action, your own eyes refusing to meet his as you wallowed within your own disgruntled fury. 

Bogard felt a similar choice was to be made, akin to the decision he made a decade earlier. He could choose to rejoin the ceremony at this stage, leaving you out here to wait for him to return - should Garp let him; or to remain out here with you. You: the light of his life, the person he gave his heart to in youth - and its current owner as queen over his body. 

As he felt you pull away and begin to shepherd him to return to the halls, his eyes snapped as he made his decision. 

“I lost you once,” he uttered, his hands grasping your hips and holding you firmly in place, “And I refuse to lose you again.” At this small utterance, you would be a fool to admit anything other than the swell of your heart within your chest and your eyes softening at such a notion. Putting aside your own selfish desires to keep him further with you, you shook your head and reached up on your toes to place a chase kiss against his cheek.

“I will still be here if you choose to return to me,” you ushered him with a small smile, “And if you don’t, I will not hold it against you this time.” He leaned forward, the tip of his broad, gray cap circling the crown d your head as he placed his forehead against your own. 

“I will never break from you willingly again,” he confessed, his tone holding all of the emotion resurfacing from the decade taken from him, “Nor would I ever allow the light to leave us. You have my heart,” he nudged his nose against your own, “And I desire nothing in return-.”

“-Should you desire it or not,” you spoke over him, ensuring your voice was heard over his inner monologue, “My heart has been with you from the moment we first met,” his eyes met with yours as you continued, “And was only returned to me when you shattered it upon your departure.” 

He claimed your lips beneath his, feeling the roll of your raw emotion within your lips the longer he held you against him. Breaking away, he gazed intently into your eyes and uttered his final confirmation.

“No matter how long it takes: I swear to remake your heart and treat it kindly should you offer it once more.” 

“My heart is yours, Bogard,” you sighed in response, the swell reigniting within your chest as you allowed him to cradle you against himself. Ignoring the calls and words of Vice-Admiral Garp within the hall, addressing the marines and tailoring their awards to them without his right hand beside him, Bogard was intent on showcasing how deeply he loved you regardless of the time that departed.

Garp continued his relay, his eyes darting to meet with the image of an entanglement with his right-hand man and your body pressing romantically against one another with a twinkle in his eye. He remained relishing in the fact he was able to right the mistakes of his past and reset it to shepherd it into a promising and fruitful future; Bogard finally able to meet with his bonnie lass once again and treat you with the utmost respect you deserved.

He refused to come between you again, swearing at that point to never offer an ultimatum to an underling in return for their loyalty.  

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #bogard x reader #bogard #op bogard #one piece bogard #one piece bogard x reader #one piece dance series #Spotify

[blackfangedreaper]

INSTIGATION

Prompt: "You want me to take off my shirt?"

Pairings: Luffy x black!fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual content; dry humping. Cursing, grammatical errors. Mdni

"Arghh! Can you go slower?!" Luffy whined, complaining at your fast pace. "But I'm going as slow as i can!" You whimpered, jutting your lower lip out. "Ok I'll start over ok? Make sure to listen and follow the movement of my fingers."

You've been trying to tutor luffy for an upcoming test in biology. Your area of concentration? The abdominal muscles, you couldn't even go halfway before luffy either complains about you going too fast or he that doesn't understand.

You were suprised when luffy begged you to help him study for his upcoming test. You were more than excited to help your crush out with his test but you seemed to forget that any and all subjects weren't his strong suit.

Biology textbooks and notes were opened to the required page, sticky notes littered in the corners of some of the pages, important texts and doodles present in them from being bored in class. You sat in front of luffy on your knees while luffy had his legs crisscrossed leaning backwards on his arms as support.

His chest bare; yes luffy was shirtless. Turns out he was a visual learner, while it was a little distracting you were not complaining. Not every girl got to see they're crush shirtless and also got to touch them. Luffy shuddered everytime you lightly grazed his skin especially his scar, You never knew he had a scar and trust me, it made him look more alluring than he was but it was super sensitive so you tried not to touch it too much.

The sight of him half naked set alarms off in your head, you couldn't help but leave lingering touches and every time you brushed his scar he would let out a little groan that sent shivers down your spine and into your cunt. You wanted to touch him so bad, too bad you can't your only here as a tutor and nothing else.

"This is the pectoralis major." You said brushing your fingers on his upper chest, going lower just right above his nipple. "Your pectoralis minor... Get it?" You asked. He nodded repeating after you. "Pectoralis major and minor got it!" You smiled at his pout.

You trailed your hands down to his sides, just right beside his chest. You felt luffy shiver, not knowing if it was from your grazes or the air con in his room. "The serratus." Then you moved to his firm abs, face heating when you felt them flex underneath your fingers. "T-The tendinous inscriptions." You moved lower feeling him stiffened at how low you went. "The r-rectus abdominis." You released him and heard him sigh, looking up with a smile you asked if he got all that. "Uh huh! It was pretty easy!"

"Then you can name the places i touched, right?" You rose your eyebrow. "S-Sure! Pssh! of course i can!" He said averting his eyes, his lips pursing unconsciously. He's definitely lying and you knew cause he couldn't lie for shit. You sighed. "Luffy..." Rubbing your forehead in exhaustion. "It's not that hard."

"Huh?! It's not that hard? Why don't you take off your shirt, sit still then watch as i touch you like you did me and we'll see how it's not that hard!" He voiced out scowling at you not registering the words he said. "Y-You want me to take off my s-sh-shirt?" And you as the dumb but horny fuck you were you only heard those particular words.

"O-Oh shit! I'm sorry i didn't mean it!" The colour draining from his face as he finally recollected his words. He waved his hands frantically but you held his hands bringing them down before assuring it was ok. "N-No, it's only fair." He was stunned, it's only fair?

You dropped his hands, before unbuttoning your school shirt and dropping it by the side. You tied your braids up with the scrunchy you had on your wrist before unhooking the front buckle of your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders and resting your hands on your lap. "If it'll help you understand better, G-Go ahead."

You heard shuffling then felt him hovering over you, hearing his nervous breathing as he sat on his knees infront of you. You felt he was hesitant so you sat on your bum making an 'M' with your legs, you then folded your arms behind your back. This position pushed out your breasts and it bounced sort of giving him the green light.

While in his perspective, they looked so enticing, your slightly light coloured nipples contrasting your brown skin but that's what made them all the more beautiful. He reached out his hands palming them softly before jerking away when you whimpered, covering them a little. "I-I'm sorry! d-did it hurt?"

"No! Y-Your hands are just c-cold." You said longing once more for his touch. "Oh s-sorry." He apologised rubbing his hands against his school shorts to warm them up a bit. "I'll be more careful" He said shuffling closer to remove your arms before reaching for your soft mounds again.

He cupped them and you shuddered holding back a moan. So this is how he must have felt. "Your pectoralis major?" He said looking at you for confirmation. "Y-Yes..." You replied breathless, gosh you couldn't concentrate. His hands felt so warm.

His words kept drifting in and out of your ears not really stopping to process them only focusing on the way luffy trailed his fingers up your sides and down your stomach. His hands holding your waist snapped you out of your flustered daze.

"Hey? Are you alright? Your breathing pretty heavily." His hands tighten around your waist, he was looking down at your panting form. "I-I'm alright! Why w-wouldn't i be?!" You chuckled nervously, but moaned when one of his hands came up to give your breast a squeeze. "If your uncomfortable i could stop." That snapped you out of your daze. "No! G-Go on please."

"Shishishi, ok!" He beamed squeezing your nipples between his index and middle finger lifting it up before releasing. Watching your mouth part to let out a soft moan. You bit your lip before looking up at luffy through your lashes. "Feel good?" He laughed when he received a nod from you. The educational intention of this scene completely forgotten.

"Use your words y/n." He murmured, focusing on rolling then squeezing your nipple between his fingers. "Yes! It feels good!" Your eyes watered at the harsh treatment, panting slightly you rose on your knees, coming slightly face to face with luffy before you kissed him. "Mmph!"

You moaned into the kiss, you've been waiting for this moment ever since he first smiled at you in the dance studio. You dug your fingers into his black shaggy hair pouring your passion into the kiss. Conveying how you felt about him through this was the only way you felt he would understand, that you wanted him, that you wanted to be his. When you parted from him you cupped his face. "Accept my feelings, luffy."

His silence only brought anxious feelings and embarrassment. Maybe it was too soon but your thoughts were evicted when his lips smashed against yours once again. He bit your lower lip and when you whimpered at the pain he held your neck tilting you the opposite direction as him and sticking his tongue into your mouth to battle your tongue. "Mmh!"

Your lips smacked against each other as you continued to make out. Luffy hands snuck under your flimsy school skirt to paw at your butt, smacking you anytime you tried to fight back against his tongue. "Hmph!"

He broke the kiss to sit on his bum, dragging you forward to stand on your knees, his legs between your parted thighs as he raised your skirt to see your beige panties. It laid snuggly against your waist, the colour matching your skin and it looked so good on you. "Pretty." He muttered bringing you forward by your ass; making you stumble forward, to kiss the hem of your panties.

"Oh! Luffy!" He sat you down directly on his growing tent. Your sobs rang around the room as he took your nipples into his mouth, you arched your back grabbing his ebony locks to push his head closer when he hummed against you. Marking the soft flesh of your breasts with his teeth. You ran your free hand down his chest to rub at the tent in his shorts.

"F-Fuck." He said breathless after releasing your nipple with a 'pop' leaving the nipple and the area around it a deep red, the hickies showing clearly on your bronze skin. Luffy looked down, watching as you grinded you palm against his growing cock. He could feel his boxers get moist as he bucked up against your palm.

"W-Wait." Luffy said abruptly stopping you from continuing before he palmed your ass moving your aching clit right on top his pulsing cock. He lifted your skirt up slightly clearing the way for him to grind into you. He slowly began to move you forwards and backwards slowly, the much needed friction your bodies created caused you both to erupt in moans. "Oh gosh!"

"Nngh!" Luffy buried his head between your tits as his hands did all the work. Slowing grinding you against him. Your clit rubbed against his dick over your panties, he felt so huge you wondered if he could fit in. "Luffy! Faster." You begged.

"No." He whispered, denying you. You whimpered in frustration at his slow pace before trying to increase your pace but a harsh slap sounded around the room. "Ah!" "You really don't like listening do you?" He grumbled, moving you slower than before to torture you. You sobbed when he grinded you harder on his shaft.

You wrapped your arms around his neck moving in sync with his hands giving up on increasing the pace, you didn't want to make him angry or he'll move slower than before. You sighed out 'fuck' when he started trailing kisses up your collar bone and down the valley of your breasts sucking on the underside of them before moving trace round your nipple with his tongue. The taste of your sweat heavy on his tongue as he continued his assault, spreading your ass cheeks then kneading them back together. "Hmm- baby..."

You didn't catch the word that fell out of your mouth if not you would have been embarrassed but not luffy, he wasn't spared at all, his ears taking a red tint and his face heating up at the pet name. He increased his pace bringing you both closer to your highs. That's right, i'm baby.

Whimpers and light moans escaped your mouths. The cold air caressing your skins contrasting against the heat you both felt at that moment. "Yeah! I'm close." You wailed careful not to be too loud, his family members were all present after all. "Me too."

You pulled luffy's head from between your bruised chest to smash your lips against his, moaning into the kiss as you both came. "Ugh! Luffy!" You whimpered breaking the kiss to fall limp on his body as he grunted out your name, wetting his boxers as his hips kept bucking into you for a while at his orgasm before stopping completely to catch his breath.

He held you tighter, standing up with your legs around his waist. He walked to his bathroom and sat you on his toilet before stepping out. You heard shuffling before he walked in again with a red tank top and blue shorts in his hands. "Here, you can wash up, I'll wash your clothes for you." He beamed then left.

"Luffy's clothes..." Your face heated up as you brought up the clean clothes to your nose, sighing as his scent rushed into your nose. You giggled not wasting time as you took off your skirt and soaked panties, dropping it out the door before taking you bath in his pristine bathroom.

His citrus bath wash wafted off your body as you stepped out the bathroom in his clothes. You didn't notice how late it was in the bathroom, you could see the purple tinted skies from his window. His room was dark the only light visible was the moon and the one escaping from under his bathroom door which didn't help very much. "Luffy?"

"Right here..." He whispered, his voice coming from the corner of his room where his bed was. You walked closer careful not to bump into the table and abandoned books on the floor. You saw him laying on his bed his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling before he turned to you, gesturing to you to come join him. "Hi!"

You smiled at him before whispering a shy 'hello'. You laid beside him, yelping when he pulled you closer by the waist. "I don't think you'll be going home tonight." True you couldn't actually go home tonight it was really late and you didn't feel comfortable travelling at night. "Yeah..."

Silence filled the room before luffy spoke up. "Go out with me." Your eyes widened, surely he wasn't joking right, no luffy wouldn't joke about something like that. "You told me to accept your feelings right?" He said facing the ceiling before turning to beam at you. "So you'll accept mine right?"

Your heart skipped a beat and while overwhelmed you pulled him into a kiss before breaking it and laughing happily. "Yeah! I'll accept yours."

"Yosh! Then it's settled! You're mine now!" He wrapped his arms around you nuzzling his nose against yours. "And you're mine."

One piece- disco ball

20 minutes earlier...

"What the- how do they work this thing?" Ace walked into the laundry room to see his younger brother struggling with the washing machine. "Uhh... What are you doing? You normally don't wash your clothes yourself, unless- you lucky son of bitch!" Ace's eyes widened taking note of a girl's school uniform and beige panties peeking out. "Oh ho! Whose is it?!"

"Hey don't look you pervert!" Luffy yelled catching his brother's eyes stare at your underwear. "It's y/n's isn't it! Haha! Suck on that marco!" Ace laughed, pumping his fist. He helped luffy with the machine before running out to get his hard earned money from marco. "Take care of her anchor!"

"What do you take me for and don't call me that!" He yelled at the departing ace before turning to look at the working but empty washing machine. His jaw dropped looking down to see your clothes still in his arms. "Shit! I forgot to put it in! Well guess she's not going home tonight!" He laughed, gums peeking out as he rubbed under his nose.

#luffy x reader #straw hat luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy x black reader #luffy x reader smut #fem reader #luffy smut #dance au series #one piece #anime men #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction

[asexualdreammorpheus]

glen miller's moonlight serenade playing over the car radio.... crowley wearing a fez.... azriphale mentioning the doctor who annual... the sound of the tardis faintly in the background of that scene... crowley says angels are like bees.... a flashback has crowley calling himself a doctor... derek jacobi playing a seemingly chill guy but is actually an asshole I've connected the dots good omens season 2 is just a prequel to the doctor who sixtieth anniversary

#good omens #moonlight serende played in the doctor dances #who dances in that scene? the doctor and rose tyler #rose tyler confirmed returning to doctor who #god my brain has fucking melted i shouldn't have watched the series the other day #i have connected the dots i have connected them #and remember bees are aliens #i can only focus on one piece of media and sorry its all taken up by doctor who

[tutuandscoot]

Favourite Photo Series

Part 3:

📍SCI 2017 FD Practice

What I love about this picture is it’s a snapshot of a really lovely moment in time, I.. surprise surprise (probably) have a very different take on then maybe most would. There’s a lot of emotion in this one still photo but I find it it’s entirety to be even more poignant.

To help explain this I’m gonna use some gifs and talk more generally about this whole moment because it’s all important in relating back to this one moment in the photo.

So during their run through of MR, they break just before where they would start their step sequence. S throws T’s arm and lets her skate away in place of the first step in the sequence. This is quite common-in other practices, whether they are breaking at this moment or others, to do a bit of a ‘flourish’ as they finish the section they have just practiced.

The camera angle then changes to the left side of the rink and they catch up to each other. Where they would usually hold hands and continue skating around, T holds out her hand thinking he is going to take it (either in dance hold or more likely their hand hold) but instead he grabs her wrist quite ‘aggressively’ - not hard or in a way that would hurt her- but.. and this is the important part for me, does it in character.

He then slides his hand round her back to her side in their little side-hug position and so gently caresses her in such a comforting and affectionate way. He drops his head and after the second one T looks to him, in a way I interpreted as her asking him, ‘hey, what’s the matter/you alright?’. He his stays dropped and he’s kinda slumped over as he pats her back (YES her back don’t make this into something it’s not) and his hand falls into hers and they continue stroking round holding hands.

As they reach the back of the rink to start their short diagonal, the music is becoming louder and more dramatic, they let go of hands and Scott quite obviously starts to get himself worked up emotionally, then gradually physically to go into the next moment of chore. He mimes burying his head in his hands and silently screams along with the vocals in the music before he, again, aggressively grabs T’s wrist and kicks furiously as she drops into her lunge.

This post is another shrine to Scott and his acting abilities. I’ve talked about it many times I think, and I certainly still have more to say.

I can’t say what others thought/ think of this moment- specifically the little hug moment. I assume many thoughts were it’s a very sweet moment and I’m sure there were some creeps who thought he took and opportunity to ‘feel her up’.

What my thoughts were the very first time and quite frankly still, is as they met up to hold hands again, Scott was still in his character and grabbed her as such. T wasn’t expecting it, but at the same time wasn’t phased at all. He often has ‘random moments’ that she is never phased by and knows it’s just him being so passionate and getting to *play - [*explore movement and their story] with her. What she maybe wasn’t expecting, after realising he is still somewhat in character, for him to then wrap his arm around her in a hug and caress her..

He’s kinda saying to her in that moment (physically) ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t want to, I’m gonna hurt you again in a moment (the next bit of chore), but you’re gonna be ok, we’re gonna be ok’- apologising on behalf of his characters actions’. He’s mentally still within his character, as himself he is kinda making sure she’s ok. She looks to him as if to say, ‘what do you mean, of course I’m ok’, or as I said before, simply ‘what’s the matter?’.

It’s weird I know, I’ve re writing this so many times to try and make sense of my thoughts, but that’s what I got from this, that’s how I read it. Because he grabs her then immediately after that becomes this soft and gentle moment physically while still kinda refusing to look at her. I see it as like this split between just himself and his character. I talked about this recently and as I always stress I have no definitive confirmation of any of this other then jumping off what they themselves say about their process and the kind of people/athletes/artists they are both together and individually. It’s not necessarily method acting (it’s not, he’s said that) but I think he likes to, once he gave himself the permission to, and knowing T encouraged it, exist in and explore those characters on a deeper level- and not just strictly confined to doing chore, and not strictly together on the same level- they may be deeper in it then the other at times like this for example. The way I read it is that T just seems more relaxed and quietly strokes round to the next section, where as S, in one of his random moments, interacts with her more so in the physicality of his character, but because it’s him and it’s them, at the same time exists this beautiful moment of comfort and, kind of apology.. I don’t quite think it’s that , I just can’t find the right word for it. That little pat just had this feeling of.. it’s like they just had a whole conversation in those 3 seconds, silently, without words and it ends with this pat of ‘alright, that’s my girl’ coz he knows she’s ok, as they continue on just like normal, completely aware of everything and their understanding of where each other is- mentally, physically, what they are thinking about.

I hope this doesn’t sound like an over reaction or anything. OF course she’s ok, OF COURSE he isn’t hurting her. It’s just what this moment on such a subtle level screams to me, I immediately saw it and thought how beautiful it was that they were having one of these moments, that he was checking in with her but they were still staying so quiet and within their story, and his physically to her was maybe a little unexpected in that moment because she doesn’t need him to “apologise” for anything, but it was just so moving thinking that’s maybe what it was. Whatever prompted that little moment, then get ready for the next section and- specifically S, what I feel supports this whole rant is the way he gets himself worked up emotionally again- that gradual transition into then somewhat out of, then fully back into character again. I would give anything to be able to talk to them and get them to explain their process. It’s more fascinating then anything else and because of their trust and connection and history it’s amplified to such an intimate level of understanding.

It’s not showy, it’s not performative, it’s for them and their process in a deeply honest way of understanding their characters and their story. It’s not copy paste the same expressions from another program, it’s all so essential to the story they are telling in the moment.

This still picture seems like just another one of their supportive moment, but the moving picture behind it I think tells so much more.

When T posted this picture she had the caption ‘I’ve got your back’ on it. She loves her tongue-in-cheek captions and quite literally he was holding her round her back. But pairing this with what was happening either side of this picture, it has double meaning in that she has his back- she encourages him to feel comfortable in exploring his characters. I don’t say that to make S seem weaker than T in this respect, I only say it because it’s exactly what S said and that it gives him so much strength to know what she loves and wants from him. I’m sure he did the same for her at a time or twenty- what ever she needed encouragement with he gave it to her, he was there for her unquestionably.

So the result of all that is it creates a moment of visually, he has her back, but in so many other invisible way she has his. They have each other’s backs. That’s what makes this image so beautiful.

(I hope I’ve said enough times throughout this that this is purely my interpretation of the moment and without being there or hearing them I don’t know anything for sure and this is based off what evidence of that they have said previously and do both in this moment and many others and there’s a common thread of how I interpret their artistry and interactions in this respect. It is the very nature of what they do to interpret it in an artistic way removed from any larger presumptions. An inconsequential moment where it could’ve had any number of meanings for them or simply none at all).

#call this FF if you want for me it’s just artistic observation #and I love it coz I’m so fascinated with the process of action #*acting #particularly with TS because it’s not like they are actors in a movie #this is like live acting and in their practices where there’s breaks and the way they phase in and out of character #is so interesting to watch #esp Scott become is such an interesting creature #this is one of the first pieces of practice footage I ever watched of them #and this is what I thought (in less words of course) #before I knew much about them and certainly nothing about their process #but it turns out this kinda is. constantly comforting but at the same time encouraging #and also loving the experiences of exploring every part of their characters #I can only imagine the beauty and vulnerability of their private practices #sci 2017 #practice #favourite photo series #part 3 #my beautiful dancing bbys #more of my random poetic ramblings #essays #always nervous about posting these #lots of intricate thinky thoughts

[stinkrascal]

my boyfriend is getting his desktop THIS WEEK !!!! which means that i can steal his laptop and play the sims FINALLY way sooner than i thought im so happy i really thought i was gonna have to wait two whole weeks to play the sims 🎉🎉

#thank GOD my brain is literally rotting with ts4 content #i made poses for a cute vlad/brie post a week ago and i only got to take two of the screenshots before ts4 stopped working on my pc D: #its gonna be so cute im so happy i miss them so much #its like a day in the life post. but theyre just being lazy the whole day #king and queen of not working and lounging about and being literally attached at the hip all day every day #they are the most annoying couple i love them. theyre literally like teenagers except theyre 45 and 300 yrs old #and im still writing the vlad/brie backstory reprisal!! theres so many cute characters i wanna show off #its almost a hundred pages :D :D :D #theres like a whole vampire's council that i created + councils for other supernatural creatures living in my head #that i want to create NOW!!!!!!! but i CANT!!!!!!! bc my pc said STOP PLAYING TS4 JAIDEN!!!!!!! #also i just woke up from the weirdest nap ever. i had a dream about smoker one piece and EA VLAD.... #in my dream ea vlad was like really old he was probably in his 50s which i know that's more accurate than my early-30s vlad but stfu #he had a really cool top hat and he was very suave and he asked me to dance with him #i kept stepping on his feet but he was like 'Ah that's no trouble darling you're quite clumsy!' and i died in real life #he talked kinda like the guy who voices scar in the lion king but with less of that lion affliction that the voice actor does in scar's role #which totally isn't how my interpretation of vlad sounds at all. my interpretation of vlad has a russian accent and hes more soft spoken #but it fit the vlad in my dream he sounded like an old geezer lol i really am out here having dreams about EA SIMS #not even my own sims? just EA SIMS......... and smoker one piece of course. but that seems a bit more reasonable to me #anyways im replaying the spyro reignited series again so seeya <3

[shellshocklove]

i wanna be your lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy​, for proofreading this

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.

“Do a little dance, make a little love,”

“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”

She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.

Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.

You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.

Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly ­– he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.

Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.

You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…

Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.

Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”

“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”

The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.

“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.

“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”

“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.

“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”

“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”

Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.

“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.

A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.

“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.

“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.

She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.

Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.

His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.

“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.

With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.

“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”

With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.

The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.

“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”

“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”

With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.

Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.

It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.

Instead, they fell on a man.

You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.

He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.

You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.

Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.

He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.

The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.

Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.

“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”

The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.

“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”

Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.

The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.

As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.

“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”

A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.

“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.

You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.

“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.

He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.

Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.

With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately. 

“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.

“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.

“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.

Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.

“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.

“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.

“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.

“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.

You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”

He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.

“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.

“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.

You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”

“How about your name?” he suggested.

You turned back to look at him, really look at him.

Had Deborah set him up for this?

You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.

Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.

After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”

He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.

“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.

You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”

He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.

Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”

“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”

“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”

Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.

You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”

As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.

“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.

“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”

“A good one?” Joel wondered.

Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.

“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.

“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.

Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”

“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.

“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.

Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.

“I’m an actor,” he confessed.

You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.

“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.

He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.

The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.

You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.

“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.

“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.

“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”

You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”

“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.

“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.

“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.

He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”

Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.

Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all ­­– you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.

With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.

“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.

“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.

He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.

“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.

“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”

“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”

Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.

“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.

Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.

“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.

“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.

“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”

You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.

Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.

You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.

“Why?”,

“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.

“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”

“Oof,” Joel frowned.

“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.

“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

You gave him a skeptical nod.

“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.

An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.

“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Was it? Was it a problem for you?

The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.

With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.

“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”

“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”

And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.

Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.

“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.

He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.

Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.

When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.

“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”

The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”

“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!

“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.

“Just what, sweetheart?”,

“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.

“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.

Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”

“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.

You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.

Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.

“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”

In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl. 

With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”

“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”

“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.

Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.

“I-I don’t know… it just is.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”

“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.

“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”

He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”

“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”

You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.

“Why?” you said, a little flustered.

“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.

“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.

“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.

“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.

“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.

Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.

“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”

He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.

“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”

You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.

“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.

Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.

This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention. 

Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.

As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.

You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.

“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”

“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”

You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.

“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.

Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).

“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.

“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.

Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”

His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”

You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.

Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.

“I’d like that.”

He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.

Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.

The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.

“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.

“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.

“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.

“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.

“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.

Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.

“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”

You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.

Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.

It was Joel.

Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.

Why was he talking to you?

He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.

“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.

He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.

Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.

“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.

The next scene had you squirming in your seat.

With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.

Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.

With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.

“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”

He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.

“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.

Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.

“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.

Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.

You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.

With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.

Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.

The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.

Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.

Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”

With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.

Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”

The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.

“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”

“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.” 

Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”

You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.

“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”

Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.

“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.

“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.

“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”

“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”

Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”

“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”

Bingo.

You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.

“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.

“I am–… what was your favorite part?”

He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.

“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.

“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.

“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.

“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”

“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”

Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.

“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.

“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”

“I can stroke more than your ego.”

Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”

Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling. 

You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”

My sweet girl.

Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.

“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.

“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”

Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.

Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.

Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.

“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.

He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”

Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”

This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”

Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.

“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.

Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.

It was official: you’d left professional at the door.

Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.

“Joel? Can I ask you something?”

He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Can you turn off the light?”

“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”

You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”

He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”

Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.

Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.

“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.

Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”

“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.

“Come?”, he helped.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”

“Right…”

Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”

Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.

“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.

You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.

“Huh?”

“I­– I don’t know… it’s silly.”

“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.

You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.

Nodding your head, you hummed.

“Are you a virgin?”

His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.

“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.

Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”

“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.

“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.

“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”

With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.

“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.

“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”

“The latter,”

“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.

The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.

“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“It just… it hurt.”

You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”

Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”

You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.

Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.

“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.

“Show me.”

His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.

“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.

He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”

He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.

You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”

Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.

“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”

You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,

“Good girl.”

You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”

You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.

“You’re so sweet, baby­– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”

“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.

“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.

“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.

His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.

“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.

He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”

Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you ­– his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.

“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”

You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”

“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.

Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.

Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.

“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.

“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.

A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.

“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.

“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”

Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.

With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.

Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”

With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.

“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”

Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.

You nodded, “Please.”

A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.

Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.

Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.

“Oh, fuck,”

Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.

“Joel,” you panted.

His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.

“Joel,” you panted again.

“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.

Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.

“Oh, god,”

You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.

With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.

Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.

“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.

“D-did you want to–”

You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.

“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.

“Are you sure­? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.

“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired­… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”

“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.

“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.

With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.

Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’,”

“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.

“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.

You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.

“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.

Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.

“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”

A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.

“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”

In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.

Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”

Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.

“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?

The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”

“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.

“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”

His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.

You nodded, and he sighed.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”

“I-I’m sorry Joel, I­–” you started, but he cut you off,

 “You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”

Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”

Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words almost didn’t register.

“What?”

This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.

“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring­– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”

“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.

“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.

Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.

You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.

With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.

“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.

“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.

Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.

You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.

“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.

He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”

“Shit,”

He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.

You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.

“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.

You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.

He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.

“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.

“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.

“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.

“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure. 

Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.

“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.

Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.

He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.

“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”

His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.

“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.

You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”

“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.  

“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.

You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

i hope you liked this! part two -> here

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #the last of us smut #tlou smut #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #inexperienced!reader #70s AU

[megalony]

Evan Buckley (911) Masterlist

This was the 911 masterlist, but now this is dedicated to Evan (Buck) and there is a separate masterlist for Eddie. I hope you all enjoy them.

Main Masterlist

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Evan (Buck) Buckley:

I Was Worried

Care to Dance

Buck Jr

We Made It

Professional

Did I Stutter?

See The Difference

Obsessive

Early Arrival

My Squad

Part 2

Part 3

Bathroom Revelations

Family Favouritism

Checked Out

Helpless

His Own Miracle

You Look Beautiful

You Saved Me

Being Threatened

I'm Home

Hostage

A Piece of Me

There's My Girl

Part 2

Old Memories

Call For a Rescue

I Won't Lose Her

Double Trouble

Comatose

Helping Hands and Paws

Sick Day

Falling For Me

Communication Error (Deaf! reader)

Give Me a Reason (Deaf! reader)

Hypo State

Emergency Situation

I'm Taking You Home

Is This Your Husband

Protect His Girls

A Burden On You

It's Yours

You Need To Choose

Let Me Help

Little Bird Part 2

You Didn't Know?

A Bad Night

One In A Million

Wish I Knew

You're Not Leaving

Just In Time

Tiny Little Fighter

Resemblance (Series Masterlist)

Too Stimulating (Autistic! Reader)

Matters Of The Heart

She's Not Here Part 2

Have You Slept Part 2

Mayday, Mayday

Strike Me Down Part 2

Another Present (Christmas fic)

Beautiful Destruction

She Needs Help (Series Masterlist)

Call Me Dad (Series Masterlist)

This Is Fate (Dark! Evan Series Masterlist)

Baby-Trapped (Series Masterlist)

It's Complicated

Part 2

Evan Buckley x Tommy Kinard:

Third Time's A Charm

Like You

Eddie Diaz x Reader x Evan Buckley:

Bittersweet

We Love Him

Pretty Please

My Boys

She's Going Down

Light Duties

Disciplinary Action

Worth The Wait Part 2

Brave Girl

Doctor Diaz

Model Patients

Who Do You Think I Am

Get Her Out Part 2

Home Invasion Part 2

Look After You- Masterlist

You'll Be Safe Here- Masterlist

Holiday! Imagines:

Get Your Sea Legs Part 2

Flight Plan

Poorly Baby

#evan buckley x reader #buck imagine #buck x reader #911 imagine #911 #911 fox #evan buckley #buck x eddie #evan buckley imagine #evan buck buckely #evan x reader #tommy kinard 911 #tommy kinard #tommy x buck

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

PLEASEEE CAN YOU DO A TOM BLYTH X ACTRESS ASMR FIC. IDK IF YOUVE EVER SEEN THE W MAGAZINE INTERVIEWS WITH CELEBRITIES DOING ASMR BUT ID LOVE TO READ ONE OF TOM AND THE READER BEING ALL CUTE AND WHOLESOME WHILE DOING ASMR AND TRYING NOT TO LAUGH

ASMR chaos || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

A/n: you guys continue to blow my mind with the scenarios and prompts you give me 😃 keep em coming!

Warnings: pure fluff!

Wc: 1,010

Divider by @pommecita

Walking into the room, you throw Tom an interested look as the two of you look at the microphones on the the table. As we settled into our seats, the interviewer, a vibrant woman named Lisa, welcomed us with a warm smile. “Today, we’re going to do something a bit different, something fun. Have either of you tried ASMR?” she asked.

“No, we haven’t,” You and Tom exchanged playful glances, both secretly wondering what you had gotten yourselves into. “Well, this will be a first for the both of you then!” Lisa exclaimed. “Absolutely, let’s do it,” Tom replied with a grin.

“I don’t think we’re gonna do that well babe, we’re both loud people,” You squeeze Tom’s arm as he laughs, putting on his headsets as you follow suit.

“Hey guys,” you gently murmur into the microphone, a playful glint in your eyes. “I’m Y/n Y/l/n” Tom shoots you a sidelong glance, a charming smile gracing his lips. "And I'm Tom Blyth," he adds with a hushed tone, his voice carrying a hint of mischief.

“And today-“ You move to the next microphone but end up bumping into it creating a loud noise. You cringe at the sharp noise, while Tom, caught off guard, tries to stifle a laugh, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Sorry,” You sheepishly smile, dimples forming on your cheeks, “Today we’ll be doing A-” Tom smoothly moved towards the microphone, his voice flowing seamlessly, "S-" you gracefully took your place at the other mic, "M-" a shared moment of anticipation, "R," Tom concluded, and with satisfied glances, you both silently exchanged a high-five.

Your first challenge was the classic apple crunch. Tom took the lead, picking up a shiny red apple. He leaned into the microphone, giving it a thoughtful look before taking a bite. The crisp sound echoed in the studio, and a spontaneous giggle escaped you at the absurdity of the situation.

"Now, your turn," Tom said, handing you the apple with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You took a deep breath, trying to maintain composure. As your teeth sunk into the apple, the studio filled with a satisfying series of crunches.

Biggest mistake you made was looking at Tom, mid bite. You automatically screw your eyes shut as you and Tom lose it, having to turn away from the mics as you let out hearty chuckles.

"Don't look at me!" You whisper yell at Tom in a joking matter as he wipes the tears from his eyes, "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help myself," he quietly apologies as you smack his arm gently. The studio was filled not only with the sound of apple crunches but also the infectious sound of both your laughs.

You were then passed a can of coke. Tapping on it with you manicured nails, you move it from microphone to microphone as Tom watches amused. "I'm so bad at opening cans with nails on-" You start but Tom has already taken it, opening it with a satisfying pop near the microphone.

The sound of it fizzing reached you ears as you purse your lips at the sound of it. You take the can back and lean towards your microphone, Tom's hands moving to tuck the stray pieces of hair that had fallen.

You try to contain your laughter as you bring the can up to your lips, sipping it. The noise was surprisingly loud in your earphones as you start quietly laughing. You took another sip, deliberately prolonging the sound for comedic effect, the noise was a combination of tiny slurps and the distinctive hiss of carbonation.

"Here, you try," you pass the can to Tom who takes it with a playful grin. He takes measured sips of it as you slightly squirm in your seat at the loud sound of it in your earphones. You watch as he takes large sips of it.

"I shouldn't have taken too many sips," he groans, setting the can down as a mischievous grin lights up your face as he adds, "I feel like burping now" he places a hand on his stomach.

"is burping considered satisfying in asmr though?" you quip, glancing at the camera crew who try to conceal their amusement. Your eyes return to Tom. "I don't know, I guess we'll find out won't we?" He chuckles, moving to the microphone.

You absolutely lost it as the sound of Tom's burp reaches your ear causing you to rip out your earphones, leaning over in your seat as you laugh out loud. Tom couldn't help but laugh at your reaction as he smacks his knee, creating an even louder sound that fueled both of your laughter.

"I think we've reached peak asmr chaos," Tom manages to say as you compose yourself, sitting up in your seat, "I'd like to formally apologise to everyone watching this-" you say in between your laugh as Tom nudges you playfully.

Your laughter became a recurring theme throughout the interview, making it clear that the genuine camaraderie between Tom and you extended beyond the screen.

A plate of watermelon was then passed to the both of you. Tom, ever the showman, took a big, theatrical bite, causing droplets of juice to splatter across the table causing your eyes to widen as you were mid-bite.

You silently laugh, throwing your head back, "We're so bad at this," Tom shakes his head with a light laugh, wiping a dribble of watermelon juice from his chin.

The next thing the two of you were handed was a bowl of noodles. "Oh no," You whisper, biting your thumb as you eye the crew member placing it in front of the two of you, including two forks.

"I just know this isn't going to end very well," you predicted, taking a fork and loading up a substantial bite of noodles. Tom grinned as he did the same.

Brushing your hair back, you leaned toward the microphone. As the fork approached your mouth, you felt Tom's intense gaze on you. "Don't even look at me," you playfully warned him, your eyes fixed ahead. Tom chuckled, fully aware that locking eyes would trigger another laughing fit.

Chewing on the noodles, you couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan at the flavor. Glancing at Tom, you saw him slurping a noodle, prompting you to cover your mouth to stifle laughter.

Tom slowly opens the packet of chips, the sound filling your ears. He passes you a chip as you both place it in your mouth, the crunch satisfying the both of you.

Your chewing comes to a stop as your eyes slightly widen at the familiar tingling sensation in the back of your throat. You squeeze Tom's arm as he gives you a puzzled look.

You then look at the chip packet, it was chili flavoured. "Oh," Tom whispers, knowing your spice tolerance was incredibly low. "Can I have water please," you start fanning yourself as Tom lets out a chuckle, quickly offering you his bottle of water as you gratefully take it.

You let out a satisfied sigh, your head leaned on Tom's shoulder. "I'm so bad with spice," you reveal, letting out a small giggle as the interview came to an end.

"Well that's it from us," Tom whispers in the microphone, "I hope you guys enjoyed this chaotic interview, I hope it was somewhat satisfying?" You sheepishly grin at the camera as Tom chuckles.

#fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x actress!reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth fluff #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosas imagine #actress reader #actress!reader #actress au #boyfriend!tom blyth #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #billy the kid #billy the kid x you #the hunger games x reader #social media #social media au #tom blyth angst #tom blyth the man you are #snow lands on top #thg fanfiction

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

 Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway. 

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion. 

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes. 

You’d never love again. 

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road. 

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays. 

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life. 

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love. 

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake. 

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded. 

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved. 

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough. 

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil. 

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better. 

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long? 

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again. 

**

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement. 

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks. 

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone. 

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled.  And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance. 

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest. 

“What was that?” Maria chirped. 

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you. 

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you. 

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles. 

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes. 

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked. 

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally. 

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement. 

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home. 

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit. 

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.” 

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true. 

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before. 

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours. 

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it. 

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly. 

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous. 

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in. 

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch. 

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget. 

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk. 

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated. 

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents. 

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out. 

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see. 

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here. 

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing. 

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip. 

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased. 

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body. 

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips. 

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned. 

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer. 

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?” 

Was he… flirting with you? 

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care. 

“What other flavors do you like?” 

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.  

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered. 

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered. 

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered. 

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency. 

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality. 

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away. 

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?” 

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends. 

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach. 

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked. 

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly. 

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built. 

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained. 

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you. 

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer. 

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins. 

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud. 

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. 

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car. 

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear. 

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner. 

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck. 

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior. 

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar. 

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness. 

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile. 

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light. 

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably. 

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction. 

“This is me,” you sniffled. 

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked. 

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

[mischiefmanagers]

Rhysand Fic Rec Library 🦇💜

"Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord."

here's a list of one hundred Rhysand x Reader and Rhysand x OC fics to celebrate the most handsome High Lord ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @sarawritestories

The Most Beautiful High Lady 🥀💞

You Looked Like You Could Use a Partner 💞

by @lalacliffthorne

starshine (series) 🥀💞

by @marvelsmylife

Not As It Seems 🥀💞

Protecting his high lady 🥀💞

I think I wanna marry you 💞

by @swansworth

The Handsome Stranger 🥀💞

My High Lady 🔥

by @writingsbychlo

how we survive 🥀 platonic Rhysand x Reader but it's AMAZING

Home To Us 💞🌼

How to Save a Life 💞

by @azrielsdove

The High Lords 🥀🔥

Til Death Do Us Part 🥀🔥

Money, Power, Glory 🥀

Beautiful Girl 🥀💞

by @historiaxvanserra

What Our Souls Are Made Of 🥀💞

by @honeybeefae

Pretty Little Tears 🔥

by @wishfulwithwine

The Great War 🥀

by @leafsandstarlight

Against Your Brother's Wishes 🥀💞

Easy Like Sunday Morning 💞🔥

Welcome Distraction 🔥

Little Reminders 💞

by @cherhys

Anything, Always 🥀💞

Colliding Visions 💞

by @k-daydreams

Touch in the Dark 🥀

by @azsazz

Dioxazine 💞

Lavender Haze

Hung Up 🔥

by @jeannineee

Pining 🥀

Daddy Kink 🔥

by @ughthatimagineblog

love and loathing 💞🔥

forever and a day 💞

by @fieldofdaisiies

I Never Mean to Hurt You 🥀

by @daydreaming-nerd

The Bonds That Break Us 💞🥀🔥

by @hellcat8908

Returning Home 🥀💞

by @thehighladywrites

This Isn't Goodbye, This Is Simply See You Later 💞🥀🔥

Just One More, I Know You Can Do It 💞🔥

by @lure-of-writing

Where my soul can rest 🥀

by @saphirered

The Ice Queen and the High Lord 🔥

May We Meet Again

by @bookish-whore

'Til Death 💞

Never Made A Difference 🥀

by @tadpolesonalgae

mine 🔥

Knocked up 🔥

by @itsphoenix0724

Promises 🥀

by @fanttasttica

I hate you more.. 🥀

Shy priestess 💞

Finding you 🔥

Your love healed me 🥀💞

Just love me 🥀

One plus one makes three 💞

by @illyrian-dreamer

Dance with the devil

Make a bargain with me 💞🥀

by @azrielbrainrot

My Body Keeps Saying it's Yours 🔥

by @b00kdiary

Dreamer

by @solbaby7

Lose Control 💞

Put On A Show 🔥

Testing the Waters 💞🔥🌼

by @luxsky

Kicking out 💞

by @themusingsofacurlyhairednerd

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

Datura

by @starstruckunknown-princess

Black Rose 🥀

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Needs Must 🔥

With Me, Always 🥀💞

Shrinking Violet 🔥

Forget Me Not 💞

by @lanitalay

At sea 💞🥀

by @redheadspark

Truth 💞🥀

Carry 💞🥀

My Pleasure 💞

Title 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Game night disaster 🥀

Between you and danger 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

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Pointless Meetings 💞

Pranks 💞

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winter court runaway

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Winter Without You 🥀

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Out of the Mountain 🥀

by @readychilledwine

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Broken 🥀

Flight Patterns 🥀💞🌼

Subtle 💞

Scream 🔥

Plot Measure 🥀

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Family Matters 🔥

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by @clairebear08

Questioning Motives 🔥

by @serpentandlily

Falling Apart for You 🥀

by @shadowdaddies

Heavy is the Head 🥀💞🔥

Crawl to Me 🥀🔥

by @throneofsapphics

if you insist 💞

surprise reunions 🔥

by @azriels-shadowsinger

Reunited 💞🥀

by batboylover

secretly mated 🥀💞

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x oc #rhysand x you #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand smut #acotar #rhysand acotar #feysand #azriel #cassian #feyre archeron #rhys x feyre #rhys x you #rhys x reader #rhys x oc #rhysand x feyre #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #rhys acotar #high lord rhysand #high lord of the night court #rhysand fic #rhysand fic recs #acotar fic rec #acotar fic #pb speaks #x reader fic

[fanaticsnail]

Blade Song

Another part of the Dance Series. Thank you to a beautiful anon who reached out to give me some thoughts and prompts to utilize to bring this piece together. Masterlist here. Also, thank you @sordidmusings for being an absolute legend and helping me with the tunes.

Word Count: 5,065

(First time writing for Zoro!)

The warm embers of an open fire glowed a vibrant shade of red against the sandy shore of the beach. The sun had only just started to become eclipsed by the vast coastline of the ocean, prompting the last rays to tint the air pink as its last farewell. Sounds of singular plucked guitar strings harmonised by the crackle of dried wood in the fire, many among the large troop had risen to their feet to sway their bodies in time to the rhythm; all the Straw-Hat pirates amongst the crowd.

Well, apart from one member.

Zoro lay reclined on his back, his arms cradling the back of his neck as he gazed at the purple hue of tinted clouds beginning to depart in favour of gentle starlight. Peaking out of the corner of his eye, he views Nami spinning amongst the dancers, linking arms with Luffy before laughing and plonking to the ground; becoming exhausted from the vigorous movements.

Shifting downwards onto your knees beside him, you release a gentle cough to alert him of your presence. He shifts his gaze up to meet your position, a wide smile welcoming you as you raise a large bottle of beer to indicate for him to take it from within your hands. You slid your hand to the bottom of the beer bottle to make it easier for him to take it from you without needlessly touching him.

“For me?” he asks, propping himself up onto his elbow, still partially reclining against the sand.

“Of course,” you smirked and nod your head to him, waving the bottle in front of him. He chuckles and grasps the neck of the bottle, nodding in thanks as he gently takes it from you and immediately swigs from it.

You giggle a little, turning your attention back to your troop dancing amongst the crowd; Sanji leaning down to Nami in a polite bow with his right hand extended to ask her to dance. She politely shakes her head to decline, prompting the blonde chef to seem slightly disappointed by the outcome.

“Oh, poor Sanji,” you raise your eyebrows upwards and fall your lips into a tight, thin line; tsking your lips in pity. Zoro looks up at your face, furrowing his brows before turning to look at the chef.

“Why ‘poor Sanji’?” he asked you, taking another swig from the bottle.

“Oh,” you gasped in surprise, not realising your pittance was released from your lips, “its just; he’s a really good dancer and finally has the opportunity to show off his skills and Nami just rejected him,” you shrug.

You turn your sights back to look at Sanji who appeared to be sulking a little more, going back to the food vendor and asking for a drink to drown his partial sorrow. Zoro furrowed his brows deeper in thought, looking between both you and the chef.

“You’ve danced with him, then?” Zoro asked you nonchalantly, again raising the neck of the glass beer bottle to his lips. You brought your attention back to the swordsman at your side, scrunching up your nose playfully at him.

“He’s actually yet to ask me,” you smiled at him, “but I’ve seen him dancing with a few of the women here, and he’s superb.”

Zoro grunted a little at your reply, his voice gruff as he drained the last of the contents of the amber liquid within the bottle. He sighed in contentment as the alcohol hit his stomach, enjoying the slight buzz it brought to him.

“Do you dance, Zoro?” you asked him curiously, arching up your eyebrow to him.

“No,” he replied immediately, without a semblance of hesitation from within. You giggled at his hasty reply, urging your body closer to his position on the sand.

“Not even for me?” you pouted playfully.

“Not even for you,” he nodded without looking at you, exhorting a crease in your brows in response.

“Oh,” you replied, shifting your body back away from the close proximity to the swordsmen.

Zoro was one of the Straw-Hats you found it the most difficult to build rapport with; his gruff exterior intimidating for the cheery and jovial attitude you brought to the crew. Luffy immediately took a shine to you, bouncing off each other’s perpetual warmness to spark joy throughout the crew. Nami began her relationship with you slightly more standoffish, but her exterior cracking the more you hyped her up with subtle jabs and challenges. Your favourite of the challenges you had put to her included: placing a wager on whether she could literally steal the pants off a marine without them noticing, which she absolutely could; a sight to see for the Straw-Hat crew to enjoy together.

Usopp enjoyed confiding in you with his insecurities, prompting a more mentor-mentee relationship to develop between the two of you as you navigated throughout his fears and worries in your travels. Sanji was different. He flirted hard with both Nami and you, as the only women on board. Nami would absolutely not entertain his flirtations in the slightest, whereas you would always reflect the flirtation back onto him; causing a red hue to rise upon his cheeks in response. Everything was always playful with him, never taken further than a brush of a lip upon your knuckles, or a warm rub of the shoulders to comfort your crewman.

That was your role: ships chief negotiator and guidance councillor, building rapport and comradery through playfulness and joy. Zoro was yet to crack under your cheery disposition, which prompted you to seek him out this evening; praying he would finally warm to you. Truthfully, you had begun to develop feelings of great fondness for the swordsman. The way he protected the ship as a loyal knight would to defend the honour of the crown drew you to him immediately.

Zoro sighed, placing down the bottle and fully rising to a seated position as he continued to face away from you. You turned your gaze away from him and looked off to the side, bringing your hands to rest on your bare upper arms to bring warmth back to your skin. The departure of the sun’s rays always brought a chill to your body, the sea breeze carrying the cold and pricking to raise your hair follicles in response to it.

“I, uh-,” you began, turning back to look at Zoro’s face once again, “-I’ll just go then. Sorry to disturb your night, swordsman.” He turned back his face towards you, the subtle orange glow from the fire highlighting his features. You nodded with a smile, rose to your feet and turned to bring yourself back to the merriment of dancers on the beachfront.

Zoro’s eyes trailed you as you extended your hand to one of the men among the beach goers, effortlessly swooping to the sandy dunes and maneuvering your body to sway with them to the beat. You were all smiles and all touches; drawing your hands to the necks, shoulders, forearms, waists and hands of those who you danced with. Zoro watched as the men would effortlessly spin you, grasping their hands and bodies to hold you closer to them and sway to the beat.

Nami approached Zoro, sitting herself down on a tall log next to him as they watched you entwine yourself now within the arms of your captain; his cheery laughter prompting you to radiate the warmth within yourself and join with his joy.

“Not dancing, swordsman?” Nami asked him, quirking her chin to the side to acknowledge him. Zoro grunted in response, continuing to watch as Luffy spun you in his arms, capturing you within his supernatural arm extension to constrict around your waist.

Nami kicked her right foot against Zoro’s left thigh, prompting the green-haired swordsman to frown up at her position next to him.

“You know she likes you, right?” she asked him, narrowing her eyes and smirking down at his sat position. He shook his head slightly, looking back to the captain and the councillor as they swayed their bodies close together to the beat.

“What are you talking about?” he murmured with a growl-like undertone. Nami rolled her eyes at the swordsman and angled her chin upwards at the interaction occurring between the two Straw-Hats engaging in a variety of twirls and sways to the music together.

“The ship’s councillor, Mr Oblivious,” she teased him, prompting his scowl to deepen, “surely you’ve noticed by now.”

Zoro shook his head at her, prompting Nami to roll her eyes with a long groan and maneuver herself to sit on the sand next to him; off the log she sat on prior.

“The way she is with you,” she commented, gesturing to you as you spun Luffy within your arms and trailed your hands to land on his waist, “the way she restrains herself with you.”

“Restrains herself?” Zoro asked, sitting upright and paying closer attention to the dance between you and Luffy, “what do you mean?”

Nami groans and sits closer to Zoro, nudging him with her shoulder, “watch them. Pay attention to her.”

Zoro rolled his eyes and began to narrow his gaze onto the way you were dancing with Luffy; all hands, swings and grazes: touches. Zoro’s eyes widened slightly as you laced your arms around the captain’s neck as he placed his arms around your waist, hoisting you into the air in a spin before you both collapsed onto the sand below; all smiles and laughter.

The swordsman shrugged his shoulders and continued to watch the interaction between you and Luffy; you placing your left hand on his right shoulder, he bringing his left hand over his front to clasp it around the back of your hand; both heads tilted back in laughter.

“Her hands?” Zoro asked, his monotonous tone raised in question.

“Yes,” Nami confirmed with a nod, “her hands, Zoro.”

Zoro shook his head, not quite understanding what the navigator was attempting to tell him.

“Look, Zoro. You are as clueless in navigating romance as you are in navigating a ship,” Nami groaned, placing her hand on Zoro’s left forearm, “she loves physically. She finds comfort in touch.”

“So?” Zoro asked, shaking his head, “what’s that got to do with me?”

“So,” Nami says slowly, rolling her head to lull back at the sky, “she doesn’t touch you, does she?”

Zoro furrows his brows in thought, shrugging off Nami’s grasp on his shoulder before trailing his eyes to zero-in on the Straw-Hat crew still dancing together. He recalls the way you have approached him so far; always with a small gift to present to him: a beer, a plate of food, a tool he required for maintaining his swords. You would sit close enough to him to be actively in his presence, but without making any physical contact with him. Praising his swordsmanship as he practices movements and motions above deck, you would watch him while notarising specific items you would need for the next upcoming adventure. All his thoughts falling back to you expressing your comradery with him in every way apart from physical.

He watched as Sanji returned from the vendor, an empty beer bottle clasped in his firm grip. He watched as Sanji placed the beer bottle on the sand next to him and extended his right hand out towards you as an invitation to dance while simultaneously hoisting you to your feet from your position on the floor. Zoro’s eyes widened before narrowing as you accepted the chef’s invitation with a wide smile and allowed yourself to be thrust flush against his body; legs lacing themselves together to join at the hips, swaying and tastefully gyrating to the rhythmic guitar.

The chef spun you in his arms, turning you to face away from him while circling both his and your arms around himself and continuing the sway. You both would take small steps to the left and right before Sanji effortlessly spun you twice to face against you once again. Zoro ignored the way his chest began to feel heavy under the weight of him viewing you both dance together, his breath hitching as Sanji’s hands wove themselves against your hips with a warm blush creeping up the chef’s face. Zoro couldn’t tear his eyes away from the movement of you reaching your hands up in the air and raking your fingertips against your forearm as you allowed Sanji to manipulate your body as an instrument of artistry.

“You’re an idiot,” Nami sighed, Zoro tearing his eyes away from the dance between you to scowl again at her.

“What are you talking about, Navigator?” he growled under his breath.

Nami smirked, turning her gaze to the captain as he waved her over towards him with a beckoning gesture. She placed her right hand on the dunes below, springing herself to her feet in a swift motion. Reaching an arm out towards the swordsman and grasping his left wrist, she pulled him to his feet and stepped into his intimidating proximity to utter in a low tone, “the sooner you realise you like her back, the easier it’s going to be for everyone.”

The navigator smirked, turning away from the standing swordsman to bring herself into the outstretched hands of her captain, laughing as he spun her into a dance again.

Zoro was left perplexed, not really certain what he should do with the nonsense spurted from the navigator. He found himself stalking the perimeter of the dancers slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the chef and the councillor as they continued to embrace one another.

He hadn’t given much thought to romantic encounters of late, training his body through strength and agility to become the world’s greatest swordsman to finally beat the title away from Dracule Mihawk. Seeing the way you swayed with the chef, now arching your back up into his torso and falling your hands slowly to find the back of the blonde’s neck with small shifts in your hips, he couldn’t help but picture you performing those movements with him.

You were always so careful with him; so cautious to not cause him any discomfort as he slept, ate or trained. The way you so cautiously and playfully asked him to dance, only for him to immediately shoot you down weighed heavy on his heart now, the pit growing stronger the longer you remained in the blonde’s arms.

Zoro found his teeth clenching as he watched Sanji lean his head against your neck, his lips almost meeting your clavicle as he raked his arms over your back and held you in a tight embrace, flush against his body as he spun and dipped you. You arched your back further, keeping the chef’s body against you as you leaned into him. The swordsman never felt the desire to study how to dance rise within him. He was now regretting never learning how at this very moment.

The tempo of the guitar began to slow, bringing the dance to a close. You and Sanji broke away from each other, laughing and applauding the musicians in appreciation of their craft. Zoro’s eyes beamed on the chef reaching his right hand out in search of your own, bringing your knuckles up to brush against his lips with a gentle caress. A melodical giggle presented itself through your lips, a coy smile drawn to your features as a small pink blush spread across your nose and cheeks.

Zoro needed to hit something; something that doesn’t matter to the performance and smooth sailing of his ship or crew. A growl released itself from his lips as he briskly began his descent towards the ocean shore, away from the view of the gathering of individuals dancing together around the fire.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you laughed as he released your hand from his grasp.

“Any time, love,” the chef replied, his yes falling on the ship’s navigator as she cheered for the musicians gleefully. You trailed your sites to follow his, looking at your orange-haired crewman.

“You going to try Nami again?” you quirked your head up at him, his eyes falling back to you in response to your question.

“After the bitter taste of rejection the first time?” he smirked with a light chuckle, “not in the slightest.” You scoffed at him, turning to view the crowd again; searching to locate your green-haired crewmate.

“He went down to the shore,” Sanji spoke beside you, a knowing smile drawing to his lips, “just in case you want to face your own rejection a second time.”

You rolled your eyes and lightly tapped Sanji’s shoulder to reprimand him, “I’ll tell you what, chef-.” His gaze softened in your addressal, nodding for you to continue on; “I’ll go get the swordsman and face my rejection, if you go to our navigator and face your own. Deal?”

You held out your right hand as indication for him to shake it. He clasped your hand within his own in a the perfect balance of a gentle but firm grip, uttering; “deal.”

As your pact was sealed, you turned from your blonde chef and walked down the dunes towards the shoreline as Sanji shook the hair away from his eyes and huffed out any inhibitions preventing him from approaching the navigator with an offer to dance.

Returning back to the log with your equipment laying against, you reequipped your cutlass and in its scabbard around your waist as you began your trek towards the foam of the ocean as it waded against the shore.

You brought your hand up to your brow as you narrowed your eyes in search for your green-haired, ear-pierced swordsman; falling your sights onto his as he effortlessly maneuvered himself while wielding three swords in a flowing movement. Your gaze softened as you watched him spin slowly with the blades, brandishing them with complete control and fluidity.

Gasping, you could almost see his movements slow in motion; focussing on his firm grip on the blades as his eyes bore down in complete concentration and control. You zeroed in on the flex of his forearms as he brandished his swords outwards, sweeping them throughout the air and halting them outwards, facing their tips to the sky.

Sitting yourself down on the dunes, you placed an elbow against your knee and cradled your face in your palm; watching the swordsman as he continued to flourish his skills with his blades outwards and inwards; the wave’s gentle crashing against the beach the soundtrack to his movements.

Time seemed to stop and slow as you watched him brandish his blades, spinning and turning with the perfect combination of control and ferocity. You couldn’t get enough of him, tilting your head and taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you unabashedly gawked at him.

“Don’t think I don’t see you there, Councillor,” Zoro called to you, his voice slightly muffled by the blade clutched between his teeth. You jolted your body back, unclenching your teeth from your lip as you looked down in shame.

“Apologies, Swordsman,” you spoke in a low tone, forlorn as you began to rise to your feet to turn back away from him. He took his third sword away from his lips and sheathed it at his side along with the other two in their scabbards.

“I didn’t say I minded your gaze,” he confessed with a smirk, trailing behind you in his approach.

You halted your retreat, turning back to face him once more with a furrow in your brows and a quirk in your jaw. His smirk softened a little as his eyes met with your own. You shook your head as you stepped closer to him, still remaining out of his reach and general proximity.

“I can’t get a read on you, Zoro,” you admitted with a small nod, “you either hate me more than anyone else among the crew or you’re completely indifferent towards me as one would be a complete stranger.”

Zoro took a step towards you once more, stalking forward and bringing his body fully into the sphere of your personal space. You chose to not budge or maneuver your body away from his, tilting your head to bring it upwards and quirking it to the side.

“Fight me,” he uttered, his eyes half lidded as he spoke in a low tone.

“What?” you furrowed your brows in question, shaking your head a little while floating your eyes between his two brown orbs through your eyelashes.

“Fight with me, I should say,” he smirked as he reached his left hand forward, initiating first contact between you as he clutched your right hand in his firm grip.

“Zoro-,” you began, trailing your gaze away from his eyes and looking at his hand placed against your wrist. He took a closer step into you, bringing his right hand up to clasp your wrist; dragging his left hand to lace themselves within your fingers.

“-I won’t dance,” he uttered in a low, monotonous tone; trailing his eyes to your fingers as he smoothed over your wrist, “but I can fight.”

He stooped his head downwards, his eyes closing at the proximity while smoothing over your skin with his thumb, rotating in gentle circles.

“If this be the only way I can draw you close to me,” you whispered lovingly up into his face, “I will gladly cross blades with you.”

A small smile draws itself to the side of Zoro’s lips as he reopens his eyes, seeking your own eyes to hold his attention and affection.

“Draw your cutlass, Councillor,” he murmured lowly, leading you down to the coastal shore by your hand to place your shoeless feet on firmer flat sand. He reluctantly released you from his grasp, turning away from you to retract his blades from their scabbards.

“I am no match for your skill, Swordsman,” you uttered while retracting your blade from its place against your hip and raising it, “but I will do my best to keep up with you in our dance.”

He quirked his head to the side with a smirk on his features, placing his third sword between his teeth once more. You drew your sword up to your face and held your non-dominant hand out to the side to ready yourself for his relentless attack.

Charging at you, his arms drawn back; you side-stepped him as he thrust his right sword at you. Continuing to avoid and evade his attacks, you circled to reach behind him to strike. He leapt within the air and spun his legs outwards to retreat from your advance.

Circling back around and side stepping your attacks, he brought his torso closer to you; the large gash from his dual with Mihawk pulling your attention to his chest. He followed your gaze, halting his next movement as you stopped your own.

He stepped closer to you, parting his lips to drop the white blade from his teeth and fall it to his open and awaiting hand. You flit your eyes up to search his as he spun and nudged his legs toward you, his swords now all clasped in his hands. You widened your eyes in shock as he began to sweep his blades at your feet, prompting you to flee from his advance towards the ocean away from him.

You jumped a little as your toes were met with the cool salted water, prompting you to lose your concentration slightly at the shock. You felt the blunt end of a blade snap itself against your dominant hand as a small reprimand at your action, bringing your sights away from the waves and back to the swordsman in front of you. He continued to trail you in a circle, lowering his body towards the ground as a predator would stalk its prey.

“See,” you said, flicking your sword down at your feet while circling your body away from the water, “I’m absolutely no match for you with blades.”

Stopping his relentless pursuit, he drew his body closer to you and swept his three blades off to the side.

“And I am no dancer,” he smirked before falling the small twinge of a smile from his lips.

You shook your head at him, a small smile pulling at your lips at the interaction. You continued to hold the distance between the pierced swordsman and yourself, raising the tip of your blade at him to halt his advance. He trailed his gaze, holding firm to your every movement in preparation for an oncoming attack.

“You can topple marine bases, slay enemy pirates, collect high bounties with ease,” you taunted him, narrowing your eyes as you gestured to his body with the tip of your steel, “but you cannot handle partnering a woman in dance?”

He growled in response, his eyes narrowing at your taunt; “if you want to be swept off your feet with crude gyrating and twirls, go back to the blonde chef you like so much.”

You dropped your smirk, widening your eyes at his comment and flourished your blade off to the side in a sweeping motion.

“Is that what you would like, Zoro?” you asked him, reducing your voice to little above a whisper, “to have me thrust into the arms of another?”

Zoro’s jaw tightened behind his lips, his teeth clenched firmly at the accusation. He offered no verbal response, prompting your brows to twinge a little in sorrow. You shook your head and flourished your cutlass, placing it back into your scabbard in a swift movement.

“So be it,” you said with a curt nod, bowing in a deep curtsey to the swordsman, “thank you for the invitation to cross my steel with yours, but I fear our little spar draws to an abrupt close.”

“We’re not done yet,” he uttered darkly, approaching you in a slow prowl.

You rose from your curtsey, a small smile pulling at your lips as your eyes met once more; “I will go and seek out someone else to join in crude gyrating to the music performed at the fire side-.”

Your words caught in your throat as the swordsman retracted his blades within his scabbards, closing the distance between your bodies in a swift motion and towering his body over yours. He stooped his body towards you, his face being a whisper away from colliding with your own. Your breath hitched in your throat at his proximity, feeling a heat pool over and rise within your chest and flood your cheeks with a rosy tinge.

“I said-,” he tilted his head while whispering intimately close to your lips, “-we’re not done yet.”

A shudder broke through your shoulders, a small whimper falling at his tone escaping from between your parted lips. He reached his hand up to brush some fallen strands of your hair behind your ear, you leant your body in to his touch with closed eyes. Trailing his fingertips down, he clasped your chin to firmly prompt you to reopen your eyes to look up at him through your eyelashes; his own brown orbs half-lidded as they bore down on you with intensity.

Flittering your gaze between his eyes, you arched your back up to him; no longer cowering away from his touch but embracing it.

“You no longer desire me to return to Sanji-?” you asked him in a breath under a whisper, trailing your gaze to stare at his lips.

“-I desire you,” he uttered in a low tone, bringing his lips to graze along your jaw alongside his fingertips. Your eyes fluttered closed as the brush of his lips trailed upwards towards your ear, breath hitching as you felt his mouth press down tenderly at your jaw.

You brought your hands up to circle around his neck and toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, your fingertips brushing against the long gold-drooped earrings hanging from his left earlobe.

“You desire me enough to dance with me by the fire?” you gasped as he increased the amount of pressure against your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses back up towards your chin and the corner of your lip. You felt him smirk against the corner of your mouth before he broke away from his subtle trail.

He pressed his forehead against your own, closing his eyes as he whispered his response; “no.”

Your shoulders immediately dropped, your arms releasing the swordsman from your grasp. You broke from his embrace and stepped away from his close proximity.

“You toy with my feelings, swordsman-,” you began, only to have your words be halted by Zoro.

“-I don’t know how to dance,” he chuckled, shaking his head while trailing his left hand to rest behind his neck, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Shock overcame you, your gaze trailing the open shirt of the swordsman down to his thighs and calves before bringing them back up to his torso and flittered down to his forearms.

“Let me show you how,” you uttered hastily, bringing your body back within its earlier intimate proximity; holding out your hand as an invitation for him to grasp it, “just take my hand.”

He turned his gaze down to the ground, muttering below his breath; “what am I doing?” before he reached out his left hand to clasp around your right, allowing you to pull him into a closer proximity.

“I am your sword,” you informed him, placing his hand to the small of your back, “and you are my master.”

Zoro released a small growl at the words you uttered, truly relishing in his title you bestowed him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself now, Swordsman,” you warned him playfully, placing your hands upon his shoulders with a small giggle. His grip settled on your waistline, smoothing his arms and hands over your hips.

Off in the distance by the side of the large bonfire, small plucked strings of the guitar trailed its way to melodically converge against the crashing of the waves to create a sweet harmony within each other. Both worlds began to collide; the ferocity of sword wielding against the subtlety of a gentle sway of your hips.

“Now,” you said, rolling your neck up to gaze into his half-lidded eyes as he held your attention, “wield me. Tell me with your body what you want me to do, and I’ll follow you anywhere.”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #roronoa zoro #zoro fic #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #dance series

[blackfangedreaper]

FELATIO

Prompt: "Not a sound."

Pairing: Luffy x Black!fem!reader

Warnings: sexual content, cursing, grammatical errors. Mdni.

Tag list: @euphoficc @luffyinlove @closet-degenerate @roronoaswifey

"C'mon, this way." You voiced pulling him through the empty hall. It was good no one noticed you both were gone. You had sneaked out of the dance studio with luffy to take care of some... Private matters. It was a struggle for luffy to match your pace especially with the raging boner pressing against his school slacks, dying to get out.

This was all your fault actually, just watching you dance so sensually for another project of yours set him off and the fact you shared eye contact with him through the mirror showed you knew exactly what you were doing but you didn't stop there.

After you were done you walked to a very frustrated luffy who was about to walk out the door, you pressed your body against his back, trailing your hands up his chest to bring him into a hug, your boobs pushed up against his thin school shirt. "Need help?"

Which leads you back here, trying to find a certain room. You were sure it was around here somewhere. Ah ha! You stopped backtracking a bit before bringing out a key, unlocking the door and walking into the empty theatre room; where the drama club took place. Seemed they were out. Very good.

"Why do you have the key?" Luffy cocked his head looking at you before wincing at the constant friction of his pants and hard-on. You locked the door back taking in the vast auditorium where certain events happened. "They gave me a spare cause the janitor tends to lose the key all the time." He nodded confused. what a careless old man!

"Come on, we're almost there." You dragged him backstage, walking down the eerie hallway were rooms of prep occurred before arriving at the props room. You opened it walking into the slightly dark room. "Should we be in here?" How unusual luffy was worried about getting in trouble- "Why not the stage? It's more thrilling and bright there!" Nevermind.

"Shh... They'll see us there bubby." You sighed using the dim light that came from under the door to move yourself in more deeper and into the corner. You pushed luffy into the corner pressing up against him before smashing your lips against his.

"Mmph." He pulled you in closer by your waist, tilting his head to the side to run his tongue on your plump bottom lip before biting and pulling on it, bringing his thumb up to caress them, loving the softness and warmth they brought to his thumb. Shifting his gaze from your slightly swollen but soft lips to your clouded eyes, he sighed. "Pretty."

"Let me take care of you alright?" Pecking his lips then kneeling slowly, trailing your hands down his chest as you went low. Fully on your knees you pecked his erection, looking at him through your lashes before slowly undoing his belt buckle.

"You should probably hold unto something." You warned watching his loose pants fall before palming his hard-on looking up at him again as you licked the wet spot on his briefs hearing him groan. "Heh! I don't need to!" He laughed before hissing at the feeling of air hitting his shaft. You marvelled at his size. Thank God he wore briefs, you don't think his boxers would have survived this.

"Don't say i didn't warn you." You broke out of your shock due to his cocky reassurance. You stroked his shaft against your face, placing kisses from the base of his cock to the base of his head, teasingly blowing air on the red tip. "Fuck, your so hard."

"Nngh!" He whined as he felt you press on the bulging vein underneath his cock, tracing it with the tip of your tongue upwards before engulfing his swollen head;red from teasing, into your mouth, getting a high pitch moan from luffy.

"Shhh... Not a sound." You released his head from your torturous licks and sucks with a 'pop', moaning at the taste of his semen on your tongue. Wrapping your palms around his shaft you pumped it before taking his balls into your mouth, sucking on it while illiciting sinful sounds from him. "You taste good baby."

"F-Fuck!" He whispered looking down to watch you suck and massage his balls whilst stroking him in rhythm. You looked up making eye contact with him through your lashes, catching his eyes dilate a little more when he looked at you. "You look s-so pretty right now."

You giggled, the vibration causing him to throw his head back in pleasure, his soft black locks brushing against the wall as he moaned. "I-In!" You sat upright still stroking his shaft as you tilted your head in genuine confusion. "What?" He groaned at your innocent expression repeating his statement once more. "I wanna be inside y/n."

"Hmmm? Isn't that a bit rude bubby?" You hummed batting your eyes at him, a pout playing on your lips. "What's the word i wanna hear, honey?" You teased, slowing your strokes making him fidget before quickly giving up and begging. "I'm sorry! P-Please just-" you cut him off. "Okay ♥!"

Immediately you said that you took him in whole, deepthroating for the first time. Damn it looked alot easier in porn! "Mmph!" You choked on his size, tears sprang out your eyes, the stretch he brought your throat sent tremors down your spine going right to your cunt.

"Oh! Fuck, you shouldn't h-have done that." Luffy hissed, mocking you in turn. Your mouth bringing him the ultimate pleasure right now, you were literally sucking him in. You back away from his dick to take a mouthful of air, heaving as you watched the multiple strings of saliva bounce, some breaking at the force of your breathing. "Huh? Giving up already?"

You were trembling, that was so painful why did you do that. Maybe you should try slower this time, this was your first blowjob after all and you were going to give it your best. Luffy was going to be on his knees by the end of this, you swear it. You opened your mouth wide, stretching your tongue out to wrapped it around his tip. "No, just getting started."

You sucked on his head, his precum staining your tongue once again. He jumped when you flicked his frenulum; the underside of his head, with your tongue. You then began to take him in inch by inch, whining when you felt him hit the back of your throat. He was only halfway in.

"T-Take your time...hah!" He muttered drowning in the shocks of pleasure you sent through his body. Your heart leaped at his encouragement making you more determined to take him in some more. Your brows furrowed as you went deeper, slowly and finally your nose hit his firm abdomen.

Luffy was holding himself back, he really wanted to fuck your face so bad but seeing you almost injure yourself he had to control himself, clenching his hands into a fist to prevent him from grabbing your head and using your mouth as a fleshlight. You'd like that though? Wouldn't you."Nngh!" He whimpered feeling you increase your speed.

You finally got a little comfortable with his size and started to increase your pace, your hands were wrapped around the remaining you couldn't quite fit into your mouth yet. Squeezing gently and stroking diligently sending chills down his spine. You made sure to slow down sometimes to take a break and breathe. "Y/n! I don't think i can hold it anymore!" You heard luffy wail, hold what? Uh oh...

Just as you were about to release his cock from your mouth to question him he pushed your head back and all the way to the base. "Uurrgh!" You gagged feeling him go deep in your throat making you stay there before he fixed his fingers into your hair and started to thrust you forward.

Your throat bulged at the harsh treatment, saliva steadily collecting at the base of his length dropping down to his balls then the floor before the cycle started all over again. You stared up at him, your brows furrowing as tears dropped down your eyes. "S-Shit! Your throat feels so good baby!" He groaned at your soft insides.

You were sure your oral cavity wasn't going to be the same anymore with the way luffy was thrusting, reshaping it with his fat cock. You slapped his hands away, glaring at him as his cock slid out of your mouth, strings of spit connected you both as you coughed and panted. "I- ugh!" You took in his shaft into your mouth once again after a mouthful of air, interrupting him before he could say anything.

"Hmmm..." You hummed on his cock, your throat wrapping comfortably around his cock as you hollowed your cheek. Bopping your head forward and backward on his dick in a fast pace, bringing your finger to press lightly on a vein underneath his cock as you sucked on him harshly, drawing whines and pleads for you to slow down.

"F-Fuck! Please! Slow do-awh!"

"Nuh-uh!" You hummed as your ran your tongue up and down his slit before deepthroating him again. Luffy's knees felt weak, he wished he listened to you and held onto something. His moans and whimpers sent you into a state of euphoria, your panties getting wet just from his pathetic but adorable pleads.

You whimpered on his dick as you stroked yourself through your panties, rolling your index and middle round your clit. The pleasure from sucking luffy off made your mind foggy and with the shocks from your clit it made you drool in excess, allowing luffy slide in and out of your mouth easily. "I'm coming y/n!"

His fingers found its way back to hair, entangling with each other to give luffy a good grip. He thrusted into you, his eyes rolling back as he chased after his orgasm. His abdomen tightening at the overload of pleasure he was receiving. "A-Almost, oh fuck! Please!"

"Hhrmp!" You sobbed, your orgasm coming faster than you expected, your brows furrowing upwards as only the whites of your eyes remained visible. Luffy and you came at the same time. Luffy bucking into you wildly before shuddering holding your head closer to the clenching muscles of his lower abdomen. "Hah!"

Thick ropes of his cum spilled deep and down your throat, giving you no time to taste him on your tongue. He stood stiff as you recovered from your orgasm. You sucked his cock clean, releasing his head with a 'pop' before licking your lips. "Thank you for the meal!" You giggled your voice a little hoarse as you pulled his briefs and pants up, buckling his belt back on then patting it.

One piece - disco ball 🪩

"There you go!" You stood up feeling the wetness in your panties. "Dawh they're all ruined!" You cringed not liking the feeling at all. You sighed turning to the strangely silent luffy, his hair was shielding his eyes, the dim room only making the shadows more prominent on his face. "Bubby? You ok?"

"Uh huh..." He hummed still sticking to the wall, his body completely rigid. You walked closer catching unto his flustered expression. "Hm? What's wrong luffy? Let's go! They'll be back soon." You said going to grab luffy's hand. "No! I-I'll come later! Yeah! I come out after you!" He rushed out a look of embarrassment present on his face.

"Luffy we have no time for this" you hissed pulling his hand. "I CAN'T I'LL-" after those words you heard a thud then an embarrassed groan. "I'll fall..." You looked down at luffy, his left hand still clutched in yours while the rest of his body was on the floor. "Pfft-" you stifled your laugh turning the other way. "Hey! D-Don't laugh, my legs are just numb, 's all"

"I did tell you to hold onto something!" You chuckled at his scowl before lifting him up and helping him out the dim room with haste. Not knowing the drama club attendees were currently waiting for their president; who went to the dance studio to look for you, who had the spare key. "Dammit we really should stop keeping our key with the janitor! This is the eighth one this month!"

#straw hat luffy #fem reader #luffy x reader #one piece #hawt #one piece x reader #dance au series #mugiwara no luffy #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy #luffy smut #one piece fanfiction

[chrollohearttags]

blerd!ony…💭

been wanting to write about my sweetheart + I needed something self indulgent today so here we are! 🩷

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══ ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖

you never really liked talking anime or nerd culture with men!…a strange thought but a true one nonetheless. It was always one exhausting conversation after the next. From being giving random pop quizzes about this series or a lecture about how that one doesn’t measure up to the solidified greats. That was until you met blerd!ony…the gentle, kindhearted cashier in the store you frequented on a daily basis. Blerd!ony, who recognized the t-shirt you were wearing immediately from that very obscure yet classic anime you loved so much, became absolutely ecstatic to talk to you from that day on. The tall, gorgeous male with a smile like the stars, the most beautiful complexion you’ve ever seen and a voice like honey had given you even more of a reason to gush over him. “You gotta give me your top five right now. I always see your keychains and shit. You got good taste..” you were a bit hesitant because this was always the point where things went left but blerd!ony surprised you by praising your choices and even saying he’d check out the ones you’d put him on to. blerd!ony, who had a sleeve full of video game themed tattoos took pride in showing off his pieces when you happened to catch him outside on smoke break one night. Telling you how he played all the time and even streamed a bit in his free time. “I do alright, you should check me out.” blerd!ony, who was always holding up the line just to chat with his favorite customer about the new series he just started. “I’m talking to my girl, y’all can wait—anyways, did you see that new episode? Shit was crazy.” it wasn’t long before he was asking for your socials and hoping to keep the communication going on days even when he couldn’t see you. blerd!ony, who couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the girl who came in his store with sweatpants and a DBZ shirt all dolled up in your cosplays..some a lot more revealing than others. blerd!ony, who’d always wanted to try the hobby but was afraid had some questions..among other things the next time he saw you. “I see how it is, best friend. You be putting that shit on.” you were infatuated with his humor and laid back personality so naturally, when he invited you to an anime cafe in your city, you accepted. blerd!ony, who was the perfect gentleman ensured that you had the best time as you two chopped it up about all things nerdy, making you laugh more than you had in a long time.

blerd!ony, who confided in you that he didn’t have many friends and especially ones into the things he was, told you how happy he was to have met you. “You cool as hell, we gotta do this more often.” a sentiment you agreed with heavily agreed with. Some time had passed and you two spoke nearly everyday. That’s when he revealed that he was not only interested in attending his first con but cosplaying as well, asked you accompany him..and pick a character! “I trust you, ma. Make me look good..” it was a no brainer as the two of you were huge fans of the Mortal Kombat series and decided to dress as Sindel and Shao Kahn. So the two of you spent days going to the fabric store and ordering materials to build props in your spare time..blerd!ony, who was turning heads the entire time when he revealed that Adonis like figure that had been hiding underneath that company polo everyday..you were nervous and even a little embarrassed walking beside someone so fine. but blerd!ony couldn’t keep his eyes off of you or hands..holding your left one, keeping you close and grasping the small of your back as he guided you through the crowds. Even carrying all of your bags and letting you rest your tired feet on his lap. blerd!ony, who had been eyeing you all day couldn’t help but to be entranced when it was time for the after party and the two of you were dancing with liquor in your system. “You full of surprises, huh mama?” “Try me and you might find out just how many.” blerd!ony, who couldn’t wait to get back to you guys’ hotel room, tore that costume open quicker than you could get the door open..leaving a trail of warm kisses down your neck as his fingers delved into your core, pinning you against the wall in the process. “You so fucking sexy..” muttering in your ear as he hiked your leg up and tugged his bottoms down. blerd!ony, who fucked you like a man starved that night had you grasping at things that weren’t even there..taking you from the mirror, to the dresser and eventually the bed, where he gave you deep backshots; grasping that platinum gray lace front on your head as he did so. “You don’t know how long I been wanting this..fuck..” blerd!ony, who had you fucking up the sheets all night, getting stretched by that thick cock with the curve, absolutely depleted you, so much so, you two barely made it around the convention the next day but he was glad that he had met the girl who loved the same things he did and the one of his dreams. <3

#cherry’s works ✦⭒ #aot x black reader #black fem reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #onyankapon #onyankopon snk #onyankopon x you #he will be making a regular appearance on this blog btw <3 #aot au #ony x black reader #ony smut #aot smut #aot headcanons #snk smut #snk headcanons #attack on titan #this is so long winded I’m sorry but it’s been a day #black reader #black reader smut #aot drabbles #aot fanfiction #cw smut #attack on titan au #cosplay #blerdshit #anime smut #anime fanfic

[introverted-monkey-noises]

"a million dreams for the world we're gonna make" - a million dreams, from the greatest showman

HEYYY GUYS I'M BACK !!! ap exams are finally over and i'm pretty sure i flunked ap physics but i sat down to draw stuff the day i finished after a whole lot of karaoke with my friends. i had a sketch of this going on but it has always been lying around unfinished so i really wanted to get this done for you guys last night

BUT HERE'S A NEZHA APPEARANCE i know a lot of you have been asking for him and multiple ppl have suggested that he be the critic from the movie, and you're right it totally suits him,,, bro can be a harsh but necessary critic. and i've always wanted to draw that specific scene of wukong lifting macaque in that a million dreams dance sequence. so here you go !! the critic isn't frequent in the movie but he's a necessary character so if you guys want to see more of nezha in this au just let me know !!

other stuff that i've been wanting to draw contain mei, sandy, etc. the rest of the crew as the performers and a lot more shadowpeach and spicynoodles (some asked for that specific scene where time slows as redson and mk's eyes meet with the trapeze performance thing so that'd be cool to include for the next part of this series) and i definitely do want to draw macaque in his trapeze artist at one point, he'd be gorgeous.

also let me know if you want to see any specific scene or characters from this au !! i'm not done cooking and i have so many things i want to draw for it but as you know i can't satisfy everybody... so i'm gonna need your help narrowing it all down. this movie is a piece of art and i'm so ready to combine it with lmk and actively draw until s5 comes out. so excited for this summer !!!

as always, thank youuu for reading this (if anybody does !!!!!)

#lego monkie kid #lmk #monkie kid #sun wukong #macaque #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lego monkie kid fanart #shadowpeach #spicynoodles #nezha #the greatest showman #crossover #au #alternative universe #doodle #sketch #lego #jess's monkie business

[avocado-writing]

For the bg3 requests how about the companions realizing they love tav in the middle of a battle(love your work!!!)

partner piece to this!

Astarion

realises when he sees you cut down someone in battle to save him.

you don’t think twice about beheading the cultist, or shooting them full of a magic missile, or stabbing them in the guts from the shadows - whatever you do is equally wonderful.

his eyes go wide as he watches you make the killing blow. warm blood spatters on his face and, when you shout to ask if he’s alright, his heart does a funny little dance in his chest.

he’s alright. he’s the most alright that he’s ever been, actually

kisses you suddenly, the taste of the kill dancing between your lips, and stares at you very sincerely.

“I love you.” then back to the battle before you can press it any further.

Gale

if you’re a spell caster, he falls for you because of your capability using magic. you have a knack for it he finds delightful.

the twirl of your hands, soft speaking as you recite verbal components, all of it - it’s all perfect.

he stares at you, distracted for a moment, and then gets a club in the side of the head and is catapulted back to battle.

if you’re not a mage then it’s when you do something he taught you, silencing an enemy wizard by cutting them off when you realise a somatic component. you shoot him a thumbs up and he feels his whole face go bright red.

you listen to him. you care about him. and he loves you.

Wyll

you’re fighting back-to-back, fending off enemies as they charge towards you, yelling out directions for the other one to be watching.

“wyll! big guy on your left!”

he turns and stabs, running through an orc, and hears you laugh from the exhilaration of battle.

he realises then how much he loves you, how he’d never have any other life than this heart-pounding, blood-pumping excitement with you; and he’d do anything to keep you safe.

there’s no time for him to confess right now… but he does reach behind himself to give your free hand a little squeeze with his. just so you know. just so he can come back to it and confess later.

Karlach

raging, so it’s less her thinking through it and more a series of realisations which come to her all at once.

you: fighting. you: protecting. you: protecting her. you: capable. you: loveable.

oh, it all slips into place. she can’t do anything about it right now because her axe is buried in the face of an ogre, but after the battle when she’s calmed down she seeks you out.

is a bit awkward about it, finds reasons to be near you, but you manage to work out what it is she is desperate to say.

give her a kiss, and she squeals with excitement. she thinks you’re just perfect!

Lae’zel

ahh, lae’zel. would she fall for you at any other time?

has always watched your form in battle but there’s something about today, this fight. she can’t keep her eyes off of you.

you are flawless. perfect. dispatching enemies with ease.

she realises she feels not just fondness for you, but love. something she did not believe that she’d ever experience.

she is a little distracted and gets hit, but that just makes her focus back on the battle. you check in with her afterwards and she brushes you off, stomping away to go and mull her feelings over.

is… scared to confess to you. may do it one day. not today.

Shadowheart

runs over to heal you during a battle, your wounds are great, but you shake her off:

”you’re in far worse condition than me! heal yourself first!”

she realises how hurt she is for the first time. she sort of learned to deal with the pain as she was raised sharran, but… you’re the one who’s taken notice of her. nobody has ever done that.

suddenly she is overwhelmed with feelings for you. she’d been soft for you before, but now she is overwhelmed with emotion.

she does heal herself, and then you - luxuriating in the feel of your skin under her hands.

Halsin

he’s already fond of you, but the thing that really gets him is during one particular battle.

you’re fighting and he can see you’re doing your best to protect something behind you from your assailants. during a moment when an enemy is down he sees what’s behind you: a baby boar, terrified.

not the most pleasant creature, covered in mud and squealing, but you still are attempting to shield it from the battle, and when the fight is over he sees you use magic to talk to it and calm it down, check it over for wounds.

he realises how smitten he is with you in that moment. how much you care. you are perfect, and he wants to spend his life with you.

Minthara

probably falls for you during an act of violence, a particularly bloody kill.

you show no mercy to your opponent, opening them from throat to navel, eyes bright as you see them bleed out.

you are an angel of death, vicious and proud. you smile at your kill and minthara finds herself smiling too.

charming. you are charming, and that’s all there is too it. she smiles through the rest of the battle at the thought of you.

#shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #lae’zel x reader #lae’zel x tav #Wyll x reader #wyll x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #Wyll ravengard x tav #minthara x tav #minthara x reader #My writing #request

[basset-babe]

five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first time. the one point five. the second time. the third time. the fourth time. at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

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