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scuderiahoney · 3 months

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Blackbird

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a bartender at a mountain lodge. When Danny shows up, you’re determined to keep your distance. It doesn’t really go to plan.

a/n: definitely inspired by this moodboard I made for the lovely @shootingstar-scuderia for my 1k celebration!

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: alcohol, mild sexual content

People come and go at the lodge, but they don’t stay for long. That is, except for you and your coworkers. They’re the only consistent people in your life. The customers, the guests- they pass through like ships in the night. They tell their stories, share their adventures, and then move on. It’s half the fun, really.

You should’ve known he’d be different from the very start. Most of them come in, sit down at the bar, and are eager to tell you all about themselves. They want to impress you, want to prove that they’re the biggest adventurer in the whole place. And sure, the road to the lodge is rough and steep and half the time it’s washed out. But most of them arrive in vehicles driven by guides, and they tote their expensive luggage through the lobby, decked out in brand new hiking gear bought special for this trip. When he shows up at the bar, he’s in a threadbare t-shirt, a pair of loose shorts, and a worn down pair of hiking boots.

He’s flanked by friends, ones who have genuine smiles on their faces and are dressed much the same. He seems to be the ringleader. The first thing you really notice about him are the tattoos scattered up and down his arms. He rests his elbows on the bar, looks utterly at home there. You wander down to take their order.

“I’ll have whatever beer you’d recommend,” he says, Australian accent shining through.

You get a lot of people with accents in the bar. They come from all over. You’re not surprised at the accent, though you might’ve guessed he was American from looking at him. You nod and pour him a glass of your current favorite before taking his friend’s orders and doing the same. He takes a sip and sends you a wide grin, one that seems genuine. People smile at you a lot, trying to get a discount on their drinks or look good in front of their friends or sometimes, more than that. But this just seems… real. Like he always smiles that brightly.

“That’s good,” he says, nodding eagerly. “A woman after my own tastes.”

You laugh and nod. “You’ve got good taste, then.”

He preens over that, runs his hand through his hair. Then he sticks the other one out to you, over the bar. “I’m Danny.”

You shake his hand, the way you do each time someone introduces themself to you. You try and commit his name to memory, because he’ll likely be back a few times before he leaves the lodge and they always tip better if you remember their names. He repeats your name back to you, like it’s not written plain as day in your nametag, like he actually cares.

He tilts his head towards you. “So. How’d you end up here?” He asks.

You raise a brow at him. “Normally I’m the one asking that question.”

He laughs. He folds his hands on each other and rests his chin on them.

“Exactly. You must hear about a billion of the same stories, rich people on their vacations, roughing it in the woods,” he laments. “So come on. What’s your story?”

You’re not sure why you tell him. Looking back, in the interest of self preservation, you probably should’ve lied. But at this angle, he’s staring up at you through thick, dark eyelashes. He has the prettiest smile you’ve seen in months, maybe years, maybe ever. So you look down the bar, make sure nobody’s waiting on you. Danny and his friends are early, so you don’t have much to worry about.

You shrug. “Graduated high school. Decided college wasn’t for me.” You pick up a rag, rub at a spot on the bar just to look busy, just to avoid looking right into his eyes. “I’ve been on the move ever since. I landed here about a year ago- cheap room and board, good tips, and,” you jerk your thumb towards the large picture windows looking out over the valley and mountains. “The view’s not so bad.”

Danny laughs at that, and his gaze flickers to the windows. The sun is just barely beginning to set. Soon the tourists will pour into the bar and restaurant, hungry and thirsty from their days full of adventures. But right now it’s quiet. The calm before the storm.

“Nice,” he says. “Bet you’ve got a lot of cool stories.”

You shrug, though you smile a bit at the thought. “Yeah. Hasn’t been a bad life, you know?”

He nods. Someone sits down at the bar, and you head down to take their order. Soon enough, you’re too busy to stop and chat with Danny, having to limit it to quick drink requests and offhanded remarks. You swear you feel his eyes on your the whole night. He closes out the tab a little before 9:00, pays for everyone and leaves a big tip. For a second, you remember that he’s probably just some big wig exec from some tech company, cosplaying as an outdoorsy man for the weekend. And that’s fine, you’ll support it as long as he’s nice to you.

He tosses a grin over his shoulder as he leaves, and sends a little wave your way. You swear he winks. And really, it was that moment that you should’ve known that Danny was going to be a problem for you.

…..

The employee cabins are in a secluded spot on the property, but you prefer to have your morning coffee on the back porch of the main lodge. It’s got the best view, the coffee is free, and at this hour, there’s nobody else up. Nobody, that is, except the man from the bar the night before. Danny, you remember. Huh. Usually it takes longer for the name to stick.

You watch over the edge of your book as he comes jogging up the path. He’s shirtless, skin glistening with sweat. It’s early morning, the sun barely poking up over the horizon, and it’s not that warm yet. Either he’s been working hard or he’s out of shape. From the glimpse you catch, you decide he’s definitely not out of shape. You force your eyes back to the book as he makes his way towards you. You won’t be caught staring at the shirtless guest. That would be a bad idea.

Said shirtless guest walks right up to you, though, and sticks his finger into the spine of the book, tugging it downward. You quirk a brow and look up at him. The audacity to interrupt your reading- you’re not sure how to even react. Your face betrays you as a smile crosses your lips.

“Good book?” He asks, nudging the cover.

You shrug. “It’s okay. I’ve read almost everything good in the library here.”

Danny wrinkles his nose. “You said you didn’t like… you know. Academic stuff.”

“I said college wasn’t for me,” you clarify. “I like reading.”

He nods in understanding, that signature smile on his lips. “So what’s this one about?”

You blink up at him. “Dragons.”

“Sounds fun.” He looks to your cup of coffee, sitting on the table in front of you. “S’the coffee any good?”

You nod. He takes a couple steps towards the building. “Can I sit with you? None of my friends are up yet.”

“Well it is 6am, and you’re on vacation. Can’t say I blame them.” You say, dancing around the question.

It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him. In fact, you have a strong urge to lean close and learn everything about this man. But he’s a guest and you’re an employee. They encourage you to be friendly with the guests- it helps them feel at home, your manager says- but not too friendly. Besides, Danny will be gone in a few days, and he’ll forget all about you the week after. It’s how it goes.

But he turns and raises his brows at you, and you sigh and nod. “Yeah, you can join me. But I want to read, so…”

“I’ll be so quiet,” Danny promises.

He scurries off to get coffee. You let out a long breath and pick the book back up. You’re definitely going to regret this decision. Danny doesn’t seem like the quiet type.

In his defense, he manages to stay quiet for about ten minutes. He sits down in one of the chairs next to yours, leaning back and sipping his coffee. From the angle, you can peek up over the edge of your book and sneak glances at him. He has his eyes closed, or at least close to it. He’s still shirtless, though you can see the t-shirt he must’ve been wearing hanging from the waistband of his shorts. You’re not looking at him, really- just trying to tell if he’s looking at you.

Then he starts to fidget. First he crosses his legs, then uncrosses them. He stretches his arms above his head, fingertips spread wide. Then he slouches in his chair and lets out a heavy sigh. You meet his eyes over the top of your book.

He raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing up so early, anyways?”

You should be irritated. This is your quiet morning- he’s interrupting your personal time. You come out here to drink coffee and read and listen to the birds, not some rich man trying to talk your ear off. But. He’s so genuine about it. Like he actually wants to know. Be friendly to the guests, you think.

“I’m a morning person,” you tell him, resting your book on your lap. “And I love it here before everyone wakes up for the day, you know? Like it’s just me and the world.”

He nods in understanding. He props one foot up on the chair, bends his knee close to his chest. His shorts slide up to reveal a whole mess of tattoos on his thigh. You tell yourself not to stare.

“That’s how coming here feels for me,” he says, softly. “Nice to be away from people for a bit.”

You’re starting to wonder if maybe he’s different.

“Like a breath of fresh air,” you suggest. “But for your mind and heart, too.” You pause and roll your eyes at yourself. “Sorry, that’s a bit hippy of me to say, but-“

“No, I agree,” he says, softly.

Someone opens the door to the lodge and calls out his name. You swear his face drops. He turns over his shoulder and nods, and then pushes himself to stand up.

“Well. See ya ‘round,” he says, voice soft.

You nod and pick up your book again. “See ya.”

…..

You get to know him, bit by dangerously intriguing bit. He works for Red Bull, apparently. Doesn’t give many details past that, so you assume it’s boring. He does know Scotty James-

“There was a guy who came here last winter, a snowboarder, he had a Red Bull helmet-“ you say, snapping your fingers. “Scotty something, wasn’t it, Will?”

Will, your coworker, is cleaning glasses at the bar. He raises his brows at you, and his gaze flickers to Danny, and then he says “Scotty James.”

You nod and turn back to Danny. “You know him?”

Danny laughs. “I was in his wedding.”

Danny also has a ranch in Australia where he rides dirt bikes in what he refers to as the ‘off season’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. He shows you a video, and honestly, you’re not one for adrenaline but it looks pretty fun. You suggest they talk to your boss about taking the ATVs out on the trails, and he perks up at the sound of that.

Danny tells you about his family, too. About his parents, his sister, his nephew and niece.

“M’trying to teach them good music,” he tells you on the back porch one morning. “None of that little kid shit.”

You laugh. “None of the educational shit, you mean.”

“Music’s not for your brain,” he scoffs. “It’s for your soul.”

“There’s at least 100 scientists who would definitely disagree,” you tease.

You agree with him more than you’ll ever let on.

When he walks into the bar one evening and you have his drink already waiting for him, you start to wonder if you’ve grown a bit too attached.

…..

Your boss, Michael, calls you up to the main lodge early the next day. He’s bent over the front desk, crossing off names and writing new ones down. He looks up at you with wide eyes, brows furrowed.

“Hey. I know you’re not up on the rotation yet, but d’you think you could cover an overnight camping trip?” He asks. “Sadie’s out sick, and Billy’s got a family emergency.”

Though your main job is in the bar, all of the staff take turns taking guests on overnight trips in the mountains near the lodge. You hike out with them, help set up all the gear, start the fire, and then help pack up the next morning and hike back. Depending on the group, it can be fun. When they’re not too high maintenance, you can sit around the fire and tell fun stories and get paid to do it. Other trips, you end up setting up all the tents and doing all the work and then you get ignored for most of the night.

“It’d be you and Will,” your boss adds.

Will’s one of your favorite coworkers. The two of you get along great. Michael knows this, and you wonder for a moment if he’s already talked to Will, or if you’ll be a bribe to get him to agree, too. You lean over the counter and sigh.

“Are they gonna be annoying?” You ask. “Like. Are they the type who’re wearing the brand new gear, or no gear at all, or are they somewhat okay?”

He juts his chin towards the back porch, and you follow his gaze. Danny’s out there, throwing a football back and forth with one of his buddies. You quirk a brow and turn back to Michael.

“He didn’t ask for me, did he?” You ask quietly.

Michael’s brows furrow. “No. Is he making you uncomfortable? You know you can tell me-“

“No,” you insist, shaking your head. “He’s nice. Just, you know, checking.”

Michael nods. “So? What d’you say? You’d leave tomorrow, come back the next morning. Quick out and back.”

You shrug and nod. “Got nothing better to do.”

The guys are missing from the bar that night. You see them come in later, arms around each other, probably just back from some sort of expedition. One of them- Blake, you think his name is- is trying to corral all of them, reminding them of their big hike the next day. They disappear into the elevator. Just before the door closes, Danny looks straight at you and gives you a wide grin.

When you meet them in the lobby the next morning, his grin stretches even wider.

“No way,” he says, eyeing your hiking backpack and the boots on your feet. “Not only are you the best bartender, you also do guided hikes?”

You nod and smile. “Only one at a time, though. Unfortunately I’m not very good at making drinks in the backcountry.”

Danny shrugs. “We’ll survive.”

You clap your hands and look around at the group. “Alright, campers, you ready to hike?”

They all nod and chime in with various agreements, so you pick up your bags and head for the doors. Danny falls into step next to you near the front, while Will takes up the back of the pack. You run through your usual spiel that you do when you lead a hike, and then you’re off.

It’s peaceful for a few minutes. Like the guys are all trying to act like good naturalists, like they’re trying to soak it all in. And then Danny trips over a rock, and someone teases him for it, and it’s all downhill from there. It’s entertaining, really- the way they pick on each other. You can tell they’re genuinely friends.

You take a break for lunch at a perfect spot overlooking a valley. Danny whistles lowly when he sees the view, and he elbows you lightly.

“You take all the guys to this spot?” He jokes, wiggling his brows at you.

You roll your eyes and elbow him back. “Just the ones who are stupid enough to follow me deep into the woods.”

That earns you a full bellied laugh, one that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. You’re struck again by how genuine he is, how his walls are down or maybe even nonexistent. It makes your chest ache.

You eat lunch together, and you point out the mountains by name from the little overlook. They’re all great at playing along. They ask how the peaks got their names, which one is your favorite, if you’ve ever made it to the top of any of them.

“That one,” you say, pointing at one of the smaller peaks. “Mount Mirlo.”

“Mirlo?” Danny asks, testing out the word.

You nod. “I think it means… blackbird? Yeah. In Spanish.” You nod your head towards the mountain. “Anyways. They drag everyone up there the week they first get hired. It’s a hazing thing.”

“It’s not hazing if it’s fun,” Will chimes in, and Danny laughs. “Admit it. You had a good time.”

“I got bit by so many mosquitos and very sunburned,” you deadpan. Then you grin. “But yeah, it was sick.”

You set back off on the hike after lunch. Eventually, you come to a log bridge over a river. Danny peers over the edge as you wait on the other side, brows raised. There’s a little spot where the water pools there.

“Looks like a good spot to jump in.”

You laugh and wrinkle your nose. “That river is absolutely frigid. It’d be like an ice bath.”

He shrugs and grins at you. “Just saying.”

The camping spot isn’t far from the bridge. Once you arrive, you begin to unpack the tents to get them set up, while Will starts getting things ready for the fire. You unroll the tents, lay out the poles, and then-

Danny’s next to you, hands on his hips. “How can we help?”

You blink up at him from where you’re crouched near the ground. “Oh, you don’t have to… usually we do the set up.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “We came here to go camping,” he says. “Tell me what to do.”

They all get started setting up the tents, and you’re amazed at how much quicker things go when there are more people actually doing work. The camp is set up in record time, and someone helps Will gather firewood. Danny insists on helping to make dinner, too, and soon everyone’s sitting around the warm fire and eating happily.

“No food in the tents,” you warn, looking around the group at all of them. “It goes in the bear box. You don’t want a bear to come looking for breakfast in your tent.”

Danny nods in agreement with wide eyes. As everyone finishes dinner, they start chatting. You sit down on the dirt and stretch out backwards, staring up at the purple hues sky. The sun is setting, and when you lay down fully on the ground, your back aches. Danny, who’s sitting next to you, lays down too and lets out a long groan. You laugh.

There’s something about the proximity that has your heart racing. His hand is next to your on the ground. If you reached out just a little you could touch his warm skin. Nobody would even notice.

A bird lands in the tree. You pull your hand away to point at it instead.

“Blackbird,” you say, and Danny nods.

“Mirlo, right?” He says. You nod in response.

The bird starts singing. You mimic the sound by whistling, albeit not very well. You drop your hand back to the ground next to you as you do, and Danny laughs affectionately, attempting to whistle too. You swear you feel his pinky touch yours, and your whistling falters.

Will pulls out the marshmallows soon after. Everyone gets excited over that. You all wander around to find good sticks to roast them with, and then meet back at the fire. You watch in absolute horror as Danny takes his marshmallow and sticks it directly into the flames. It lights on fire mere seconds later, and by the time he pulls it out with a panicked noise and blows on it frantically, it’s charred and black. He gives you a sheepish look. You sigh.

“You’re so bad at this,” you say, shaking your head.

He nods in agreement. “Always have been.”

His friends try to give him instructions, but it’s no use. By the time he’s on his third burnt marshmallow, everyone else is on their second s’more. You take pity on him- before he can char another one, you take the stick from him and roast it for him. You stare in concentration, finding just the right spot and turning it carefully until it’s roasted perfectly golden brown. Will helps you assemble the s’more, and you hand it to Danny with a soft smile.

“Here,” you say, quietly.

He takes a bite, then lets out a soft moan that has you heating up in a way you shouldn’t be. “That’s amazing,” he says. There’s melted chocolate stuck to the corner of his mouth, and your fingers itch to wipe it away for him. “I crown you queen of s’mores.”

You curtsy, nodding your head at him. He laughs and nearly drops the treat. You spot the issue before he does, and your fingers bump clumsily against his as you try to assist him. His hands are warm, and probably sticky from the marshmallows. You don’t let your touch linger long enough to find out.

Eventually, everyone heads off to bed one by one. Will gives you a questioning look when it’s just the two of you and Danny left up. One of the guides always stays up until all the guests go to bed- it’s a safety thing. You nod to Will, and he stands and stretches and heads for bed. The two of you are sitting on a sideways log next to the fire, and once Will goes into his tent, it’s just the two of you, the flames, and the dark expanse of night.

“Spooky,” Danny says quietly.

You nod. “You get used to it, after a while. The dark gets a little less scary. The quiet, too. When I first got here, the quiet was so…”

“Loud?” He says.

You laugh, but he’s right. “Yeah. Loud.”

He nods in understanding. “It still feels like that for me. My day to day life is so noisy, you know? The quiet is a little overwhelming.”

You nod and nudge his shoulder. “That’s gotta be good for you, though. Healthy, I think, to take a break from the noise.”

His shoulders drop, and he leans against you, just barely. “You’ve got no idea, little mirlo.”

You laugh and lean into him, too. He’s warm and firm against you. You could reach out, could touch him, could tuck yourself right into his side. He’d probably wrap his arm around you, probably pull you close. You bet he smells good, like sweat and smoke and laundry detergent, and maybe vanilla, or something spiced and warm, or…

His pinky bumps against yours on the log. You suck in a breath and look up at him. There’s a question in his gaze, one that has you nearly choking on thin air before he even asks it out loud.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, nearly a whisper.

And you want to say yes. God, you want to say yes. But-

“Look, Danny,” you say, keeping your voice low. “You’re a sweetheart, really. And you’re cute-“

“Perfect, so-“

“But I don’t date guests,” you say, leveling your eyes at him. “Or, like- I don’t do hookups, or get close with guests. It’s against the workplace rules, and it’s a recipe for disaster.”

He smiles softly- you think somewhere deep in your heart, you knew he’d react like this. With kindness, understanding. He tilts his head, and he squeezes your knee gently.

“Okay,” he says, softly. “I’m not going to push you on this, because I don’t want to be a creep. But if you change your mind-“

“I won’t,” you say. You’re not sure if you’re trying to tell him or yourself.

“I know,” he agrees. You think he’s lying, too. “But if you do, promise you’ll let me know?”

You snort out a laugh and stick out your pinky. “Promise.”

He goes to bed soon after that. You stay up until the fire goes out, staring at the coals, wondering if you’ve made the right choice.

….

When you wake up the next morning to a shuffling noise outside your tent, your first thought is that the bears have finally come for you.

Your second thought, when you hear Danny’s laughter, bright and loud, is: why the hell is he awake? You can tell from the light outside that it’s barely morning. You hadn’t been planning on waking up for a few more hours, really. You hear him whisper your name loudly, and you groan, reaching to unzip the door to your tent just slightly.

He’s crouching in front of your tent, wearing a wide smile. “Wanna come jump in the river?”

You wonder for a second if this is some insane, weird dream. You blink and rub your eyes, but no, he’s still there.

“What?” You ask, voice scratchy with sleep.

“We’re gonna do a cold plunge,” he says. “Wanna join?”

“I thought you were a bear, you know.” You say, and he grins impossibly wider.

He makes a low growling noise. Behind him, near the fire ring, you hear one of his friends laugh. He rolls his eyes and reaches his hand out, tapping on the door of the tent.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he says.

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit,” you say. “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call a cold plunge fun.”

Somehow, though, you find yourself following him, and his friends down to the river. You’re not surprised to find they haven’t talked Will into joining- he promises to have hot coffee waiting for all of you. You’re in a pair of spandex shorts and a baggy shirt- the same clothes you’d worn to sleep. Danny’s reassured you that none of them have real swimsuits either, and you figure you can let the clothes dry by the fire while you make breakfast when you get back. The morning is quiet as you all hike to the bank of the river, other than the sound of water getting louder and louder. There’s the bridge you crossed over on the way, and the little pool that Danny had said looked like the perfect spot to jump in.

“You know, when you mentioned jumping in yesterday, I thought you were joking,” you tell him. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

“Health,” he deadpans.

You stare at him, wide eyed, waiting for him to expand on the statement. When he doesn’t, you roll your eyes and kick off your shoes anyways. He picks his way down the riverbank, peering over the edge into the pool of water. You follow along, wanting to get it over with.

He turns over his shoulder, grins at you, and then jumps in feet first.

He emerges from the crystal clear water with that same stupid smile on his lips. He wipes droplets of water from his face as he treads water, letting out a loud whoop. You want to scold him for scaring off any potential wildlife, but then he’s waving you in, calling your name. You sigh and brace yourself, consider chickening out for a moment, and then jump in after him.

The icy water shocks your senses so badly that you have to remind yourself to not breathe in underwater. It feels like needles all over your skin for a few moments, then uncomfortable numbness. When you emerge above the surface, you do so with a sharp scream, and to the sound of Danny’s laughter. You shake your head wildly and try to brush the cold water off your face with shaking hands. Then you swim for the bank.

“Gotta stay in,” Danny calls out, and you turn to look at him. “No health benefits if you just jump right back out. Give it a few seconds.”

You glare at him, teeth already chattering. “I think you’re full of shit.”

Even if he is, you stay in the water. You find a spot where your feet can at least touch the bottom. The rest of his friends jump in, too, splashing each other and Danny. You laugh as you watch them, watch the pure joy of a bunch of men turning back into children again. Finally, Danny swims for the bank and reaches for your hand to help pull you out. Your whole body shakes and shivers, and there are no towels to dry off with, because this wasn’t in the plans. There are wool blankets, however, and Danny picks one up and holds it out wide. In a moment of weakness and extreme cold, you let him wrap you up in it. There’s water glistening on his skin- you try not to stare. Nobody’s around to see other than his friends, anyways.

The whole group trudges back up to the campsite, where Will has a fire roaring and water for coffee heating up. You duck into your tent to change into dry clothes, and you take everything other than your underwear back out with you to dry. You’re not ready for the guys to see that this early in the morning.

You sit down on one of the logs, bundled up in a hoodie and sweatpants. Your wet hair drops cold water onto the back of your neck, and you shiver. The guys are still in their tent, and you can hear them chattering with each other. Will is eyeing you warily.

“I really didn’t think they’d talk you into it,” he says, quietly.

You shrug and muffle a yawn into your elbow. “He’s persuasive.”

Will quirks a brow. “Yeah?”

You close your eyes and drag a hand down your face. “Not like that.”

He hums. “The dude obviously has a crush on you.”

You pull your knee up to your chest. “I know. We talked about it. I told him… you know. It’s against the company policy-“

“You do remember how I met my wife, right?” He asks, quietly.

You keep your eyes closed, mostly because you don’t want to see the look on his face. “Yeah. Shut up.”

“Just saying,” he says, softly.

Before you can respond, there’s a commotion from the tent. You open your eyes to Danny stumbling his way towards the two of you, now dressed in a fuzzy sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. He saunters over to you and stops short, warming his hands on the fire.

“Well? Feeling the health effects?” He asks.

“I feel like a drowned rat,” you state, glaring up at him.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Will chimes in. You elbow him harshly.

“Mm, no, cuter than a drowned rat. Maybe a drowned koala. A drowned puppy?” Danny suggests, then frowns. “Alright, never mind, that felt morbid.”

The three of you laugh. One by one, his friends make appearances. Will hands out coffee and asks about the river, and you smile at the retelling of events. Eventually, you pack up all the gear- with help from everyone, a happy change from most groups, and head down the trail once again.

You know Danny will forget about you after he leaves, but you wonder if you’ll ever be able to lead another camping trip to this spot without thinking of him.

…..

Danny sticks to his word- he doesn’t make a move again. He does continue to spend time with you. You’re not exactly complaining, but it doesn’t make your decision any easier. He finds you on the back porch the next morning after the camping trip and resumes your morning coffee tradition. You put the book down fully this time- slip the bookmark into your page and close the cover. Your time may be limited with him, but you’re going to soak up every second.

You’re trying desperately not to get attached. It’s not working. He’s telling you a story about Australia, about his ranch there, about the dirt bikes and his parents and everything in between. And you sit there and regret ever telling him he couldn’t kiss you.

You know it was the right choice. Know it’ll only cause you heartbreak. But he’s so attractive, and sweet, and he loves his mother- his mum, even the way he says it is cute. You want to tell him you changed your mind. You sip your coffee instead.

You’ll be able to survive the rest of the week. Danny and his friends leave on Saturday. It’s Thursday now. That’s only a few more interactions, if you’re lucky. Only a couple more back porch morning coffee meetings, a few more drinks at the bar. You’ll survive, he’ll leave, and you’ll both move on. He probably already has.

Then you’re in the break room and you hear someone mention the Friday bonfire and Danny’s name in the same sentence, and your heart drops.

You and your coworkers have bonfires down by the employee housing every Friday. People who are working join after their shifts, and you all rotate the early Saturdays to make sure everyone can have a good time at least once a month. It’s your way to unwind. It’s supposed to be employees only, and sometimes a couple people’s friends. The only guests who’ve ever attended a bonfire since you started working at the lodge were a girl named Britt and her friends, and now Britt is married to your coworker Will.

“So Danny actually said they’d be at the bonfire?” Will asks, and you turn to stare at them.

Maybe he’s not talking about your Danny. You shake your head, knowing that calling him yours, even in your head, is stupid.

“Danny?” You ask. “Like- Danny?”

Will nods.

“What happened to no guests at bonfires?” You ask, turning towards the coffee maker to start another pot.

Tony, one of the kitchen staff, laughs. “Yeah, sure, but it’s a bit different when it’s Danny Ric, isn’t it?”

You shake your head in confusion and turn back to your two coworkers. “Have you even met him, Tony? Why are you out here calling him nicknames?”

Tony blinks widely at you. “That’s what everyone calls him.”

“Everyone.”

Tony nods and shovels a forkful of pasta into his mouth. You grimace. Will watches the two of you, an amused smile on his face. Someone calls Tony’s name, and he goes racing towards the kitchen, leaving his pasta abandoned on the table. You turn your stare to Will. Suddenly, you realize something.

“He’s like…” you sigh and sink down into a nearby chair. “He doesn’t just work for Red Bull, does he?”

Will laughs. “He told you he was in Scotty James’ wedding and you really thought he was just some company exec?”

“Will, I barely know who Scotty is!” You snap. “You should’ve told me.”

Will shrugs and pats your shoulder when he walks past you. “It was more fun this way. Besides, if he didn’t tell you, bet he didn’t want you to know.”

“What does he-“ you cut yourself off. “I mean, is he an athlete, then?”

Will is scraping food from his plate into the compost bin. “You ever heard of Formula One?”

You pick at your salad. “It’s like NASCAR, isn’t it?”

He makes a coughing noise. “Okay, maybe don’t start with that. I’ll give you a basic rundown.”

When you do see Danny the next morning, bright and early, you choose to start with, “good morning, Danny Ric,” instead.

He pauses halfway across the porch, hands at his sides. His skin is glistening with sweat. You’re wearing sunglasses- the perfect chance to let your eyes wander, just a little bit. He wipes at his brow and cocks his head.

“You don’t just work for Red Bull,” you say, and he chews on his lower lip. “I mean, understatement of the century.”

He laughs at that and takes a few steps towards you. “Yeah. Sorry.”

You shrug. “You could’ve told me, you know. I wouldn’t have treated you any differently.”

Instead of going for his normal spot in the chair next to yours, he stands in front of you. If he moved just an inch farther, his knee would touch yours. He sighs.

“I know. It wasn’t that. Honestly, I just figured you wouldn’t care,” he says with a shrug. “Like. You must get so many people here trying to convince you they’re not boring. It’s gotta get exhausting.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, but your job is actually interesting,” you say. “You know, it does explain all the running. And all the adrenaline chasing.”

He finally sits down- you breath a sigh of relief. You weren’t really sure how he’d feel if you brought it up, but you hated the idea of knowing something about him without him knowing. You stick to your word- you don’t treat him differently. You pick your book back up and read for a bit until he gets fidgety, until he decides he wants to tell you another story. And then you listen with a smile, because it’s Danny. The joy is infectious.

…..

“You ever been to Yosemite?” He asks you later that afternoon.

You’re working the lunch shift at the bar. Danny had been wandering through the lobby, spotted you, and sat down for a drink. He’s having a mocktail, something you came up with just for him. You wonder how long it’ll be before one of his entourage comes looking for him. His phone has been buzzing repeatedly on the bar, and he’s been ignoring it.

You shake your head. “Not yet. It’s on my bucket list,” you say.

He nods. “That’s where we’re headed next. Spending a week there, and then it’s back to work.”

You blow out a long breath through pursed lips. “Your life is so difficult,” you say, teasingly.

He grins and shakes his head. “Wanna come with?”

You laugh as you scrub at a spot on the bar. You wait for him to echo the sound. He doesn’t. You look up at him, wide eyed. He should be laughing, he always laughs at his own jokes- it should be annoying, but it’s sort of endearing, the way he can’t finish a sentence sometimes, how he doesn’t make it to the punchline.

But he’s not laughing. “I’m being serious,” he says.

“Danny,” you say with a soft sigh. “We have a policy-“

“As friends,” he interrupts. “I promised I wouldn’t pressure you. That’s not what this is. You’re just… really cool, and we’ve got room in the car, and… I could really use your s’mores skills. Blake is shit at it.”

You cock your head at him. “I have to work. Not all of us get week long vacations in the middle of tourist season.”

He lets out a long sigh. “Right. Yeah.”

“Sorry,” you say, realizing you’re being a little harsh. “And thank you. The invite is really sweet. I just…”

I just can’t look at you without wanting to kiss you. The words are there, at the forefront of your mind and on the top of your tongue. It’s becoming a real problem, because he’s about to leave and you’re going to be stuck here, waiting and hoping he comes back. And he’s sitting here, asking you to go to a national park with him, and you want to say yes so badly because you think that maybe kissing him would be the best thing you’ve ever done. That maybe letting him in might be the right choice.

But he’s a guest, it’s against the rules, and he’s leaving. He sighs and nods, downs the last of his mocktail. He finally picks up his phone and raises his brows, then gives you a sheepish look.

“Gotta go,” he says, softly. “But I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “See you tonight.”

…..

You take your time getting ready for the bonfire. It’s difficult- usually you wouldn’t think twice about what you’re going to wear, or what you look like. But Danny’s going to be there, and suddenly everything’s different. You have a thin line to walk- go all out, and your coworkers will notice and tease you. Don’t put in enough effort, and maybe Danny won’t even look your way tonight.

You eventually settle on a pair of jeans and a crew neck sweatshirt. The sun has just gone down, and there’s already a chill in the air. You make your way down to the bonfire area, following the well worn trail and the smell of smoke.

Danny’s already there, standing around near the firepit. His friends are all scattered with the rest of your coworkers, eating hot dogs that were cooked over the fire and chatting. Someone’s set up lawn games, far enough from the firepit to keep anyone from getting injured. You grab a drink from the cooler and make your way towards the group, trying not to stare at Danny.

He calls out your name, though, in front of everyone, which gives you a valid excuse to make your way towards him. You weave through throngs of people and end up right by his side. He’s been chatting with Will and Britt, which you think is probably a dangerous combination for your sake.

“Bout time you showed up,” Danny says brightly. “I’m in s’mores withdrawal, and once I’ve had one of yours, I can’t go back.”

You laugh and kick your toe at the ground. “I told you, I did absolutely nothing different.”

“Nah, he’s right,” Britt chimes in, and you throw a glare in her direction. “You’re a s’mores magician.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, and then you turn to Danny. “You get me the supplies and I’ll make you a s’more.”

He bounces away eagerly. Both Will and Britt are watching you with knowing looks. Feeling childish, you stick your tongue out at them. Will manages to look vaguely offended, while Britt just laughs.

Danny returns with a roasting stick and all the s’mores ingredients. You take them without complaint, watching his hands as he gets the crackers and chocolate set up. He follows you closer to the fire as you search for just the right spot.

“He kept burning his to a crisp on the camping trip,” you tell Britt, a teasing lilt to your voice. “That’s why I made him one. He was helpless.”

Britt laughs. Danny jabs at your side, and you let out a yelp. Your drink is hanging from your other hand, and you take a sip before you stick the marshmallows over the fire. Across the fire, Tony, the guy who called Danny Danny Ric, is watching you with wide eyes and whispering to one of your other coworkers. This is what you were worried about- get close to Danny, and people will start talking. But he’s leaving tomorrow, and you can’t bring yourself to care.

“See, it’s not about the flames,” you tell Danny, who leans closer to listen. You gesture with your beer. “It’s the coals. You find the right spot, and then you gotta have patience. It’s a slow process.”

He lets out a hiss. “M’not good at patience. Or slow.”

You roll your eyes and smirk. “I’m sure you’re very fast.”

He gasps in mock hurt and digs his fingers into your ribs again. You squeak and bat his hand away.

“You’re gonna ruin the marshmallows!” You warn as he reaches for you again.

He pulls his hand back and smiles innocently. You take a sip of your drink and stare up at him through your lashes, the same way he does to you when he’s sitting at the bar. You wonder if it has the same effect on him as it does on you. From the way he swallows, you think it might.

…..

You’ve only had a couple drinks, because as much as you’ve said you’re going to forget about him, you really do want to remember every last moment. It gets late far too quickly. The stars are out, and the moon too, casting everything in a silvery glow. The moonlight paints one side of Danny’s face- the fire, the other. Warm and cold at the same time.

More than half the people who started the night there have wandered back to their rooms and cabins. Danny’s friends all went to bed a while ago, gave him stern instructions to join them soon. They’re leaving early tomorrow, getting up with the sun and heading out. He needs sleep.

Instead, he’s sitting next to you on a log next to the fire. Your knees are touching, shoulders brushing with every movement. He’s nursing his second beer of the night. You stare at the rose tattoo on his hand and fight the urge to trace the inked lines.

He nudges your shoulder lightly. You stare up at him, face warm, not from the fire.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He asks, voice low.

You shrug. You can’t tell him. I want to kiss you. I want to feel your hands on me. I want to read the tattoo on your chest, trace the lines of all of them. I want you. I changed my mind. Except, really, you’ve wanted this the whole time.

“Just tired,” you say instead, rubbing your thumb against the can in your hand. “I know it’s your last night here and all, but I might head to bed.”

It hits you like a sucker punch as you say it- if you go now, you’re saying goodbye. You could get up early and see him off, but you think that’d be a bit much. He seems to realize it too- his face drops.

“I’ll walk you back,” he offers.

“You don’t have to,” you answer.

You want him to. But you know what you’ll do if you make it to the door of your cabin and he’s standing next to you. You know the choice you’ll make. You’ll regret it in the morning when he’s gone and already forgetting about you, when you’re just the girl he hooked up with at the lodge on his vacation, when he goes back to his life of luxury and supermodels and-

“I want to,” he says, softly. “There’s bears here, you know.”

He growls lowly, right near your ear. You giggle to cover up the way it makes you feel like you’re on fire. When he stands and holds out his hand to help you up, you let him. He says goodbye to a couple people. You avoid Will and Britt’s gazes. Then the two of you set off down the path.

He keeps his distance. I’m not going to push you on this, because I don’t want to be a creep. But if you change your mind… You reach out, bump your hand against his. Knuckle to knuckle. He echoes the touch. Then you wiggle your fingers against his, desperately hoping he gets the message. When he tangles his fingers with yours, something slips into place.

There’s this energy thrumming in your body when you make it to the cabin area. You’re sure you’re shaking with it, even more sure that he’s noticed. You head for your cabin and squeeze his fingers. It’s dark here, nothing but the light of the moon to see by. You walk up to the door, his hand still in yours.

“D’you wanna come in for a drink?” You ask, trying desperately to sound nonchalant.

He squeezes your fingers. You turn over your shoulder and meet his eyes. They’re half lidded and dark. Like he knows where this is going.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he says. “That’s not what this was about. I don’t-“

“I know,” you say with a nod. “I know.”

He nods, ducks his head. You push open the cabin door and step inside, hand still linked with his. He takes a deep breath.

“I won’t be offended if you don’t want to,” you say, softly. “You can change your mind, too.”

His eyes slip closed, and he shakes his head. Then he follows you in through the open door.

He’s the one to shut it. And then his hand slips from yours and falls to your hip, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around his neck. Your heart is racing in your chest. You wonder if his is too. You blink up at him, watching the way his jaw clenches.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks again, for the second time in a week.

“Please?” You ask, softly.

It’s like all his resolve disappears with that one single word. The night fades around you- it's just you and him. Nothing else matters.

His lips are hot and insistent against yours. When his hands fall to your hips, they’re even hotter and more insistent. He walks you back towards the bed, shoving at your sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath it. You do the same with his hoodie, hands scrambling underneath, searching for skin. The skin you’ve been looking at all week, wishing you could touch- you can, now.

He’s in your room, in your space, and he backs you up to the bed. Your knees hit the mattress, and you fall back, away from his kissing, with a soft laugh. You stare up at him through your lashes, your whole body on fire. His hand falls to your knee and draws a slow line up your thigh. You reach up and tug on the hem of his sweatshirt, chest already rising and falling rapidly.

He leans over you, and you know your hand in the neck of the fabric, trying to pull him closer. He has himself propped up over you with one hand, eyes lit up like firelight, lips parted.

“Kiss me,” you whine, as his palm falls to your hip and squeezes. “Danny-“

His lips meet yours again, and it’s frantic after that. You shove his shirt over his head- yours follows it to the pile on the floor. He steps out of his jeans after you undo the button and the zipper, and then he’s tugging your pants down your legs, breath catching in his chest as he gazes down at you. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting down, and you trace fingers up the ridges of his abdomen. He traces a line from your navel up the center of your chest, presses his thumb to your lips, and you whine.

“Please, Danny,” you breathe.

His eyes slip shut. “M’trying to prove I can be slow and patient.”

You gasp as his hand cups your jaw. “Yeah- well- I can’t, so-“

He laughs lowly, and with his other hand, he hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties. “C’mon, little blackbird,” he says, and you writhe on the bed underneath him as he runs a thumb over your core, pressing into the wetness there. “Sure you can.”

When he sinks to his knees and buries his face between your legs, you thank the stars you didn’t let him leave without getting a taste of this, of him.

…..

After, the two of you lay spent in your bed. You’re tracing lines on his bare skin, both still naked. There are marks all over your bodies- hickies and fingerprints and bite marks. You’ll be feeling him inside of you for days, you’re sure. You run your finger under the words on his chest. Of Love And Life.

You know the song, so you start to whistle it. His laughter rumbles under your ear, deep in his chest, and then he starts to sing along with your whistling. It’s silly. If you told any of your friends about it, they’d cringe. But you feel the vibration of the words under his ribs and wish you could stay like this forever.

Eventually he stops singing, and you stop whistling. His hand sweeps up your bare back, fingers drawing shapes on your spine.

“Your cabin is cute,” he says.

You pick your head up and rest your chin on your hand that lays flat on his chest. “Thanks.”

He nods towards the poster on the wall. Yosemite is written in big letters, and you sigh.

“Offer’s still open,” he says, quietly. “No pressure. But.”

You let your eyes fall closed. “Danny.”

He cranes his neck up to press a kiss to your cheek. “I know. Sorry. I just don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

“We won’t say goodbye then. We’ll say see you later,” you suggest. It’s cheesy, but it feels right. “And you can stay the night, if you want.”

You expect him to say no. You’re sure his friends are going to panic when they realize he’s not in the room. But he just nods and pulls you close, and you rest your head on his chest again, and soon enough, you’re falling asleep, just like that.

You wake up the next morning before the sun is even up. The alarm on his phone is going off, and he’s doing a very bad job of muffling his swearing as scrambles out of bed to search for it. You tug the blankets over your head and groan until he shuts the noise off. You hear his footsteps, heading back to the bed. He tugs the blanket down so he can see your eyes and leans close.

“I gotta go, baby,” he says, quietly. It’s like it pains him.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, feeling like it pains you just as much.

He kisses your forehead and pulls the blanket down farther. He sits down on the edge of your bed and plants on hand right next to your head. You turn your face, press your lips to the inside of his wrist. Then you wrap your hand around his bicep and sigh.

“Thank you,” he says. “I had an amazing time this week. Wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

You laugh and squeeze his arm. “You just liked the s’mores.”

“No, I-“

“I know. Me too. Thank you,” you say.

He kisses your lips one more time. You press your hand to his cheek and try to burn this into your brain. Then he kisses your forehead again and stands up with a long stretch.

“See you later, mirlo,” he says, sounding more unsure than you’ve ever heard him.

“See you later,” you echo.

You watch him leave. Watch him walk to the door, watch the slope of his shoulders under his sweatshirt. Something awful twists in your chest.

“Hey, Danny, do me a favor?” You call out. He turns, brows raised.. “Try not to forget me, yeah?”

The corner of his lips tugs up into a half smile. “I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to watch him leave. You hear the latch of the door and bury your face in your pillow, resisting the urge to scream. You’d have at least three of your coworkers at the door if you did. The last thing you need is to alert anyone of Danny’s presence in your cabin, though they probably already know. You don’t want to give them any sort of confirmation, though. You roll over in bed and open your eyes, and you’re met with bright blue fabric, folded neatly on top of the other pillow. Danny’s t-shirt, left behind. Deliberately, it seems, from the way it’s folded. It’s some souvenir shirt from a ski chalet you’ve never heard of. He’d been wearing it the night before- you took it off of him. He left it on purpose for you to find. For you to have. In your moment of weakness, you grab it and press it to your nose and breathe in. That’s when you realize you’re absolutely never getting over him.

And then, you think. He left his shirt. He wanted you to have something to remember him by. In all of this, maybe you’re not the only one afraid of being forgotten. He’s larger than life, he’s a damn celebrity, but he’s leaving a little piece of him behind so you have a reminder. Like he knows you’ll put the shirt in your drawer and feel that feeling in your chest every time you reach for a different one. The bright blue is permanently burned into your brain.

Feeling especially self pitying, you reach for your phone, knowing that your camera roll from the past week is filled with pictures of him. May as well wallow in it, right?

…..

Danny throws the last bag into the trunk of the car and sighs. Blake slaps his shoulder, heavy handed, so hard it almost hurts. Maybe he needs that.

He’s been looking all over for you. He’d thought maybe you’d come to see them off, or that he’d at least see you once more before he left. But you’re not on the back porch reading, and you’re not in the restaurant, and you’re not in the employee break room, either. He thinks about going to your cabin and then realizes that would be crazy, and probably a little creepy. You’ve already said goodbye- or see you later, but still.

Someone starts the car. He drags a hand down his face. “I need coffee,” he says, and Blake nods.

Danny jerks his thumb towards the lodge and then walks in to grab a cup to go. He’s only delaying the inevitable, really. If you were going to show up to say goodbye, you’d already be there. He should just be happy with what he’s had. Happy that you let him in the way you did. He should’ve known it would only leave him wanting more, but it’s a bit late for that now.

He walks back outside, cup of coffee in hand, a frown on his face. His friends are packing the last bags and climbing into the car, and Blake is-

He nearly trips over his own feet, nearly spills his coffee down his chest. Because Blake is talking to you. You’re standing there, a book in one hand, his blue t-shirt in the other. His gut twists. Blake sees Danny and backs away to give the two of you space. Danny’s heart is racing as he walks up to you.

You hold the shirt out to him. “You left this.”

He left it on purpose, and he thought that was pretty obvious. Maybe that was unfair. Maybe it was selfish of his to want to leave a reminder of himself for you. He frowns and reaches for the shirt, tries to take it from your hand. You don’t let go when he pulls on it, and he looks at you in confusion.

“You left it on purpose,” you say, quietly.

He nods and swallows. “I didn’t want you to forget me, either.”

You nod back. You’re staring up at him, this knowing look in your eyes that has him frozen right in place. His heart skips a beat in his chest. You tilt your head towards the trunk of the car- there’s another bag sitting there, on top of all the rest of them.

“Blake says that seat’s still open,” you say, and he holds his breath. “And Will texted me this morning and said they’ve covered all my shifts for the week, for some reason.” He shrinks under your gaze, knowing that’s probably because he mentioned the Yosemite trip, and his inviting you, to Will. “So.”

“So,” he echoes, a little bit scared to believe that what he thinks is happening actually is.

You shrug and shoot him a bright, sunny smile. “I’ve always wanted to see Yosemite. And you need a s’mores girl. Still want me to come along?”

When he sweeps you into a big, dramatic kiss, right there on the front lawn of the lodge, you don’t complain. You just wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. In the trees above your heads, a blackbird sings.

for posterity’s sake please let it be known that i mostly finished this on January 31st, 2024, and then woke up to the news that Lewis Hamilton is going to ferrari in 2025. I feel like that is an important detail to be known. I decided to post it anyways. Thanks for reading the longest fic i have ever written i hope you enjoyed 💛

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #Daniel Ricciardo fic #Daniel Ricciardo oneshot #Daniel Ricciardo #danny ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fluff #Daniel Ricciardo fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo imagine #danny ricciardo #Danny Ricciardo fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fluff

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renaiswriting · 9 months

Text

Under the moonlight

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Reader

Summary: Late-night adventures with the guy your parents hate.

Word count: +2.6k words.

Warnings: snicking out of your house, mentions of your parents not liking Seungcheol, kind of forbidden love (?), mentions of tattoos and dyeing hair being seen as something that criminals do.

Author's note: I had a dream like this probably a week before my birthday, and every time I heard the song "In the middle of the night," I kept remembering it, so I decided to write it down. It's cringy, so you're welcome.

Under the moonlight moodboard

Under the moonlight playlist

Masterlist

*if you wanna be tagged, please fill out the tag list form

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Your reflection on the other side of the mirror looked back at you with the same intense sparkle in its eyes as yours.

You put on your favorite perfume once again. It was your favorite perfume. The one for special occasions

The one you avoided wearing at all costs because it was too expensive to buy again, but that you wore because it was his favorite.

You touched up your eyeliner one last time and your red lips.

There was a sweet melody playing in the background.

It was one o'clock in the morning.

The sky was invaded by thousands of stars and the beautiful moon that had watched you grow up since you were a little girl.

It was still early.

You approached your window, sighing as your eyes were mesmerized by such overwhelming beauty.

You could feel your stomach being invaded by the tingling of hundreds of butterflies.

As nervous as you were.

A small chuckle escaped your lips, the sound startling you and causing you to quickly cover your mouth with your hands.

You were about to do something your parents would punish you for if they found out.

And that scared you a little.

But you couldn't help it.

The feel of his arms around your waist

His lips on yours

The sweet words he said as his hands drew you closer to his body

His perfume.

His husky voice.

The way he laughed

The way he looked at you

It was all so addictive.

That every time you set out to end this weird situation you were in, it just left you craving more.

Waiting for the next time you see him.

The images of the last time you had met only made the warmth in your cheeks spread to the rest of your body.

You looked at the time once more, wiping your palms against your clothes, before stopping the song that had been playing until then.

The volume was barely audible inside your room, so you knew your parents simply couldn't hear it.

Seungcheol: I'm here.

Taking a deep breath and a last look in the mirror, you walk as slowly as possible and carefully down the stairs.

You could feel your heart beating a thousand miles per second, pounding hard against your chest.

Seungcheol's black car was parked behind some trees, the spot he always chose because it was almost completely dark in case your parents or some gossipy neighbor wanted to look out the window. They couldn't spot him at first glance.

Its windows were tinted, so you couldn't see inside.

You bit your lower lip, trying to keep the smile that threatened to appear on your face from being too obvious.

The light inside the car came on as you slid into the passenger seat.

Seungcheol had one hand on the steering wheel, and his back was completely relaxed against the seat.

"You took your time; I was starting to think you might have changed your mind." He greeted you; his eyes traveled from your face to your dress, smiling broadly. "Looking pretty, as always." His minty breath washed over you; it was so addictive.

"I know." You rolled your eyes, gently tapping him on the shoulder.

You loved the way his strong biceps felt under his black leather jacket.

"I thought you might have fallen asleep; it's kind of late already. I was looking forward to seeing you in your pajamas." He teased you.

"Me in my pajamas? For you? Never." I joked back.

"Aw, trying to look all cute for me?" He continued the joke, starting the car and starting to drive away from your house.

The further they drove away, the more relaxed you felt.

You rolled down the windows, letting in some of the fresh air from outside.

There were almost no cars; it was as if you had the whole night and the whole world to yourselves.

"Did your parents hear you?" He asked, not really minding the silence between you both.

"No, my dad was snoring last time I checked."

"I was ready to take an emergency escape route just in case." He replied, and while there was a teasing smile on his face, you weren't sure if he was joking or not.

Seungcheol hummed the song that had started playing and turned up the volume a little.

You smiled.

Carefully, you moved your face closer to the outside of the window, trying to get a better view of the dark sky and the stars.

"Enjoying the view?" Seungcheol asked, his voice deep and husky.

"Yeah," you sighed, moving back to your seat. "It's definitely way peaceful out here."

You closed your eyes against the back of the seat, enjoying what came to be this little taste of freedom.

Seungcheol's hand rested on your knee, holding it gently.

The warmth of his hand spread from your knee to the rest of your body, making you suddenly all too aware of every move Seungcheol made.

"I'm glad," he replied.

You wondered if he also felt as nervous and anxious about these little meetings as you did.

Your fingers began to drum against the inside of your leg, trying to calm your nerves a little.

Seungcheol's hand caught yours without needing to look away from the road. "Why so nervous?" He asked quietly.

And truth be told, it wasn't at all fair the way he seemed so calm.

When one look from him had you shaking from head to toe,

"I'm not," you tried to defend yourself.

"Such a terrible liar." Seungcheol replied.

"What's that?" you asked, when the reflection of a light shone on his wrist.

Seungcheol smiled proudly, moving his arm closer to you so you could discover it on your own.

Your hand carefully moved along the red skin and dark lines. "Do you like it?" He asked.

"It's beautiful." You breathed, taking a closer look at the little details. "When did you get it?"

"This morning." Seungcheol replied happily.

"Did you actually wake up early? Wow. Unbelievable." You teased him.

Seungcheol pockets out his tongue at you. "I actually fell asleep while they were doing it." He confessed.

Your eyes were wide open with this new piece of information.

You didn't have any tattoos, but everybody that you knew that had one always complained about how painful they were.

"I must say, it's pretty, but the one on your neck is still my favorite one."

Seungcheol looked in your direction, making eye contact for a brief second. You couldn't ignore the obvious glow in his eyes. "I can take you to the person who did it; maybe you can get one of your own." He smiled, biting the inside of his cheek.

"And get my ass kicked out of my house? No thank you." You laughed.

"Well, what if you have it in a more discreet place? Like your lower back or something like that? I bet it would look good on you."

"I would pay just to know how many times you have thought about me getting a tattoo there."

Seungcheol didn't reply, but he changed the song.

You grinned when your brain recognized the song. Seungcheol glanced at you, chuckling at your reaction.

"Oh, you still remember it." He laughed, his cheeks tinted pink.

"How could I not?" You replied, laughing, "How old were you, nineteen?" You asked him.

Seungcheol snorted a yes, looking out of the window to avoid your teasing eyes.

"God, you have always had such a cheesy music taste." You laughed but still sang every single line of the song Seungcheol dedicated to you after your first encounter.

"It's not cheesy!" He sulked. "It's romantic."

Seungcheol would never know how much you replied to that song, dancing around your room like a fool in love, the first time you read the text with the name of the song.

Seungcheol and you were not exclusive.

Never spoke about not seeing other people.

But truth be told, you weren't interested in anyone else.

Since the moment your mother told you to stay away from him, it has been as if you had only eyes for him and no one else.

The first time you both spoke to each other was when your teacher sent you to give back the exams. Seungcheol accidentally bumped into you, and he apologized.

If he liked you at first, he was not sure about you.

Sure, he did look in your direction here and there. But he didn't talk back to you for months after that.

And you weren't sure if it wasn't for that party one of your friends made you go to, things would have gone the way they did.

Seeing him was fun, and it made you stop thinking.

Something that you needed so badly because overthinking seemed to be the only thing you knew how to do well.

Hours felt like seconds, and you always forced yourself to stay in the moment because the night was so short that you didn't have much time in your favor.

But then you were back at your house, back in your bedroom, between the four walls, wondering if it meant the same to Seungcheol as it meant to you.

"Are you sure you didn't fall asleep there?" Seungcheol asked, his hand coming under your chin and moving your head in his direction. The physical touch brings you out of your thoughts.

"Still wide awake." You mumbled, but a yawn made its way out of your mouth anyway.

"You sure?" He smiled at you. Finally reaching your favorite spot and stopping the car

It had a name, that's for sure, but you never learned it. However, you called it stars. Since it was so high, you could see all the lights from the city and all the stars in the sky at the same time.

The sky seemed way bigger from there.

It was usually occupied by tourists during the day, but at night it was mostly just you two in there (except one time where there was a car with a couple doing god knows what inside).

You went ahead of Seungcheol, getting out of the car and rushing to the edge, looking at the beads of lights that were shining brighter that night.

Seungcheol turned off the car's engine, and now that the place was completely dark, everything seemed even more private.

Seungcheol got out of the car and walked to your side at a slow pace, his hands resting in the front pockets of his black jeans.

"It is so beautiful," you sighed, trying to take in every single detail of the view in front of you.

"It's the exact same view as always." Seungcheol replied, You didn't need to turn your head to see him smiling, "but I agree, it is beautiful." You could feel his eyes on you.

You hummed, taking in the fresh air of the night.

There was not a single sound.

Seungcheol leaned against the hood of the car.

His hands were crossed over his chest.

The cold air was moving your hair, and that got you fighting against the air to avoid getting your hair on your face.

"You cold?" Seungcheol asked, removing the jacket from his shoulders.

You didn't respond; instead, you took a few steps back until you reached Seungcheol, who, after gently placing his jacket on your shoulders, moved his fingers up to your chin, lifting it so you could look into his eyes.

His free hand moved a lock of hair that was falling over your eyes, leaving it behind your ear.

"Your lips are purple." Seungcheol frowned, bringing his forehead together with yours. His sudden closeness got the reaction he was looking for, causing you to close your eyes in anticipation of his lips.

Seungcheol mumbled something, but you didn't really pay too much attention to it; your brain turned off the second you felt his soft lips against yours.

Seungcheol's hand moved to your cheek, his thumb stroking it gently.

Your heart was pounding so hard against your chest that you were afraid Seungcheol was feeling it.

Seungcheol moved his lips so slowly that a fire was slowly forming inside you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You broke away first, taking a step back and avoiding looking him in the eyes.

This was the part you hated—the moment when you wondered whether or not these weird emotions you were feeling were mutual.

If Seungcheol noticed any strange expression that was reflecting the mess you had in your mind at that moment, he did not mention it.

You sat next to him. Neither of you were looking at each other, but Seungcheol bumped you with his shoulder, lightly shaking you with his shoulder, and laughed when he heard your insults.

"Asshole." You told him, giving him back the push he had given you but using your hands instead, trying to use more force because Seungcheol was as easy to move as a mountain.

Seungcheol laughed, catching your hands and moving you until you were sitting between his legs.

"There, there, stop struggling." Seungcheol shushed you as if he were talking to a puppy that wasn't obeying.

He rested his chin on top of your head, drawing you to his chest as another tremor swept over you, hugging you.

"Maybe we'd have to get back in the car," Seungcheol muttered, trying to use his hands to create more warmth in your arms, rubbing the cold jacket. "You're going to be sick."

"In a few moments," you replied, "I want to enjoy this view a little longer."

"When you wake up tomorrow and can't talk because of a sore throat, remember to tell me so I can say, 'I told you so.'" Seungcheol complained, but he held you tighter anyway.

"What did you do today?" You asked, moving your head slightly to discreetly take in some of his perfume.

"No much," Seungcheol replied, his voice vibrating against your back. You closed your eyes to the sensation, liking it a little bit too much to be surrounded by his scent and his warmth. "I woke up early to help Wonwoo repair one of his motorcycles, and then I went to get the tattoo."

At the mention of the tattoo, your hand went instantly to his arm, your fingers carefully touching it.

"For someone who swears that she loves my other tattoo more, you're surely giving it way more attention."

"Yeah, well. The place where the other one is makes the whole attention thing difficult." You shrugged, freeing his hand.

"I'm still insisting that a tattoo on you would look amazing."

"I'm not against the idea, but my parents would be so furious at me." You replied.

"But what can they do once it's done?" Seungcheol asked, holding your cold fingers once again. "I never asked my mother for permission for my first; she saw it around a month or two later, and by then it was too late anyway, so she couldn't really do much. I bet your parents would get around the idea someday."

"I'm not so sure about it," you replied, but my mother sometimes still holds ground whenever she remembers that my older sister dyed some of her hair blonde when she turned twenty-five."

"But she was old enough already for that." Seungcheol frowned. "I was seventeen when I got my first tattoo." He chuckled.

"Was it good?"

"Nah," Seungcheol said, shaking his head. "It was so cringy, I got it covered up by another one."

You laughed, moving to get away from Seungcheol's arms. You were freezing, and the warmth that the car could provide was now way more tempting.

"Don't you think your parents would change their mind once they see you doing stuff like tattoos?" Seungcheol asked.

"I honestly don't know; my parents think that things like tattoos or dyeing your hair mean that you're a criminal." You smiled sadly.

"I would love to know what they think about me." Seungcheol smirked, turning the car on and starting to drive to MacDonald's to buy something to eat in the drive-through. Your stomach was already begging for some food.

The rest of the night passed so quickly that when you started realizing that the sky was now filled with much more light, you started feeling disappointed.

"You keep it." Seungcheol shook his head, passing his jacket back to you when you tried to give it back. "Use it in front of your parents; maybe like that, they'll start getting the idea that you'll soon also become part of the criminal life." He joked.

"I'll see you soon." You asked, hoping that Seungcheol didn't hear the hope in your voice.

"Sure, Wonwoo wants to try his motorcycles tonight; you can join us. Who knows? Maybe next time you'll be robbing banks."

You laughed, remembering the time you told Seungcheol what your father had said about Seungcheol's friends and their motorcycles.

"Yeah, maybe." You joked back.

And then the cycle began again.

You were dancing around your bedroom.

Wondered if he was blushing in his bedroom thinking about last night as well.

738 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 8 months

Text

The Pearl and the Sapphire (2)

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, anxiety, angst ]

[description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request + my sweet @valeskafics)]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Working on costumes for their family's show at Crystal EXPO was the only thing that kept her from sinking into her grief and sadness after Cregan told her he felt he wasn't ready for a serious relationship yet. Although they had been together officially for several months, he had apparently realised that he was still attracted to other women and didn't want to deny himself from adventures with them.

Cregan was a handsome, warm and open men, constantly making her laugh. She met him when he came to their house to pick up an order for his father's jewellery shop and stayed for dinner with them. They immediately caught a great connection, found each other on Facebook and frequently wrote to one another.

She experienced her first time with him.

He was affectionate and gentle, took his time and gave her a huge sense of comfort, for which she was grateful. Before he even entered her he brought her to orgasm with his tongue, wanting to make sure she was definitely well moistened, and then with slow, gentle movements he took her on her bed in her bedroom, kissing her face tenderly.

Cregan was always frank and direct; she felt safe with him. However, she could see that at some point something was off, that something was wrong. One day she plucked up the courage to finally ask him what was going on and that's when he told her.

"There is a woman in my work. There is chemistry between us, but I would never hurt you or humiliate you with betrayal. However, the way I feel when I look at her has made me realise that I don't think I'm suited to a relationship with one person." He said and covered his face with his hands, his voice breaking as if he was about to cry.

She felt a tightness in her throat and stomach as she looked at him, sitting next to him on the couch, her hands clenched into fists on her lap.

"I'm so sorry. I like and appreciate you so much, I'm so comfortable with you. But…but I think I'd rather end this before I hurt you, you deserve better. Forgive me." He said and broke into sobs.

She stroked his back, feeling strange with the fact that she was the one who had to comfort him. She swallowed with difficulty tears that ran down her face.

He begged her to remain friends, to keep writing to each other, to keep in touch, but she said she needed a break and that she understood him. That she was grateful to him for telling her before he did anything bad.

Still, she felt pain at the thought that she wasn't enough.

She wasn't enough for him to want only her.

She didn't show in front of him how badly she had broken down so as not to further deepen his remorse, however, as soon as he left she called Royce and started sobbing into the receiver. Royce had finished work at his father's workshop early to come to her and spent the night in her room, just sleeping next to her and stroking her head.

He couldn't put his feelings into words, but he was always there for her when she needed him.

When she suggested to her father that their show this year would be themed and that she would sew outfits in which they would present their jewellery pieces he was delighted and kissed her forehead, teasing her skin with his rough beard. Her sisters were also thrilled that they would be able to perform in beautiful costumes at such a prestigious festival tailor-made especially for them.

Thinking about the show, planning everything and sewing filled her days between college classes making her feel better and better.

Once every few days she would get a message from Cregan telling her about his day, each time announcing at the end that he hoped she was doing well and that he was thinking about her constantly. On the one hand, she was glad that he hadn't forgotten her; on the other hand, she found it even harder to understand why they had broken up in the first place.

Months flew through her fingers and she didn't even know when there was only a week left until the whole event. Everyone was excited and had gone there early to prepare their stand. Royce poked her on the shoulder as they arranged the ruby necklaces made by their father on display.

"Have some fun. Pick out some rich snob and spend a nice time with him." He said, and she looked at him with pity.

"I don't think that would make me feel any better." She said amused, a wide smile on her face.

If it had only been about the adventure, breaking up with Cregan wouldn't have hurt her so much.

Before the show itself, she began to feel stressed. She and her sister looked beautiful, on the backstage she was still tweaking their hairstyles and tightening their gowns to make them look their best. Cassandra looked at herself in the mirror, turning with satisfaction.

"Great job, sister. I look like Marie Antoinette!"

Filled with euphoria and adrenaline, she remembered little of it when she and Royce stepped out into the middle, the lights directed at them so that she couldn't see the faces of those sitting around her. Her older brother's presence and smile gave her courage, she just looked at him to avoid distraction.

They knew the dance routines by heart and both had an excellent sense of rhythm, so dancing with him was a pleasure. She was frightened when she turned around during one of the moves and a blue glow flashed before her eyes.

What was that?

She turned again, falling into Royce's embrace, and they continued on for a while until finally the music ended and they moved into their final position. There was thunderous applause all around them. Royce took her hand and pressed it to his lips, placing a respectful kiss on her skin.

"I think you sold us perfectly, sister." He said amused, and she laughed lightly at his words, stepping closer to the audience with him to bow.

"We'll see about that yet, I'm curious…" She said and froze, seeing out of the corner of her eye a men looking at her with a look as if he wanted to kill her, in his left eye socket a large, sparkling sapphire.

Who is this?

She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to do, and blinked, reminding herself that she'd broken off in the middle of a sentence.

"…I'm curious if our father liked it." She said smiling again, bowing along with him, her brother's only response was "I'm sure he did."

She breathed a sigh of relief afterwards, when they returned backstage her sisters hugged her saying that it was a great experience and that they should do something similar next year.

She was glad that although they didn't always agree, this time she had the support of her whole family. Her father approached her in tears of emotion, saying that his works of art had never looked more beautiful and the audience was delighted.

For the first time since her split with Cregan, she felt happiness and warmth filling her body.

She and Royce decided to stay in their costumes at the banquet, wanting to draw attention to their father and their products. Borros thought this was an excellent idea and they entered the hall as a trio.

Indeed, they were surrounded by various celebrities congratulating them on their idea and workmanship, asking who was responsible for their attires and expressing admiration when her father boasted that his own daughter had sewn them.

"This is my greatest jewel." He said curtly. She felt embarrassed and looked away, feeling her cheeks burning.

She cast a glance around the hall and spotted from afar the man who had been watching her so demonically during her dance. He was looking at her again, but in the lamplight he looked less dark than she had originally thought.

He was tall, his light hair slicked back, dressed in a black turtleneck, jacket and trousers that perfectly emphasised how well built he was. His artificial sapphire eye sparkled, his scar stretching across the entire left half of his face aroused her curiosity.

She thought he was very brave and clever creating an asset out of his wound and smiled in his direction, wanting to show him that his appearance did not scare her at all.

She saw him tighten his lips and avert his gaze immediately, taking a greedy sip of alcohol from his glass, a mature woman in a long, tight gold dress was saying something to him, but he did not seem to be listening to her.

She wondered if they were together, but the age difference between them was striking.

Perhaps it was his mother?

When she finally pulled off all the layers of her gown in the evening and changed into a Tshirt she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling lighter. She got lots of messages on Instagram from people who found her after the show.

Once she had written them back she remembered the man she had seen during the dance and his disturbing fake sapphire eye. She asked her father at dinner if he knew who he was, and when he found out it was someone without an eye he said it was definitely Viserys Targaryen's son.

She knew that her father had turned down an offer from his grandfather to be their exclusive supplier. Her father, however, did not want to hear about it.

"They want to lock us in their golden cage, fill us with their paperwork and make us dependent. I'd rather be independent and pay more for the stones than let them put a collar on me." He told them then furiously, and none of them had the courage to contradict him.

She involuntarily typed the name "Targaryen" into a google search to read a little more.

She knew that Viserys Targaryen was his father and one of the main directors of the company, but who was Aemond? She clicked on that suggestion and immediately knew she had hit on it. The first thing that popped up was a newspaper article, so she opened it right away.

She felt an unpleasant tightness in her stomach reading it all. She thought that if she read such things about herself in newspapers she would be horrified and heartbroken. The realisation that their own employees were reporting them to the press to make a bit of money on the side seemed horrible to her, let alone trying to maintain any privacy.

She thought she was not surprised to see no satisfaction or joy on his face, as he had no reason to be happy. He looked as if he was prepared to take a hit from either side, but only now did she understand why.

She thought she felt sorry for him.

The title 'One-eyed heir to a fortune' seemed cruel and mocking to her, as if the absence of his eye was the only thing that defined him as a man. She remembered the sapphire he wore and felt a kind of pride in the fact that he had turned his weakness into strength.

She thought she would like to get to know him.

To see what kind of man he was.

The opportunity came the next day. She was just choosing her tea at breakfast when she heard someone stand down beside her and place his cup under the coffee machine. She glanced involuntarily to the side and saw that Aemond Targaryen in the flesh was again looking at her as if he wanted to murder her. Her lips twitched in amusement, a smile appeared on her face.

"Good morning." She said softly, curious to see if he would answer her, dropping a bag of Earl Grey into her mug.

"Good morning." He replied after a moment, lowly, languidly, with some kind of tension, pressing the button for a double espresso in a reluctant manner, the machine rattled and liquid began to pour out of it.

She pressed her lips together, not knowing if she should say something or if he felt like talking. She poured two teaspoons of sugar into her cup, waiting for his machine to free up so she could pour herself some water, and glanced at him again.

She swallowed loudly when she saw that his gaze had moved from her mug to her face again, looking at her as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

She lowered her head, tightening her lips, not wanting to offend him, amused that for some reason she had apparently also piqued his interest, which he had been unable to verbally articulate in any way.

She saw that at her gesture he tensed all over and with a swift movement grabbed his cup, apparently wanting to leave. Her heart pounded harder and she looked behind him.

"Your sapphire eye. It's beautiful." She said, and only when it came out of her mouth did she realise how pathetic it sounded.

She wanted to use it to say how much she appreciated his bravery, but it sounded like she, like everyone else, was only paying attention to that one thing about his whole person.

She felt ashamed.

She placed her cup under the vending machine he was using, stepping closer, feeling her heart pounding hard. He didn't walk away, he stood looking at her, his gaze almost burning her.

"Who made these for you?" She added, pressing the button that caused hot water to start pouring into her mug. He was silent for a moment, but didn't move from his place.

"The Hightowers." He replied coolly and she looked at him again, his gaze full of tension, dark and indifferent, there was a vast, black void. She swallowed loudly at the thought, lowering her gaze and nodded.

"The jewellery you were wearing at the show. Will it be possible to see it up close?" He asked uncertainly, with difficulty, and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to say anything else.

"Yes, of course. At our stand, they will be on display along with other works of my father and brother worn yesterday by me and my sisters." She said softly, and he furrowed his brow, as if something she said had puzzled him.

They both flinched and moved away with their mugs when a man apparently also wanting to make himself a coffee stopped behind them.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, his gaze still fixed on her, piercing and disturbing, making her shiver.

Why was he looking at her like that?

"See you later." She said lightly, and he merely nodded.

She moved towards the table where her family were sitting, feeling that her legs were as soft as cotton wool, her heart pounding in her chest like mad, her cheeks were all red from the effort that this exchange of words had turned out to be for her.

She glanced from the corner of her eye at the table where he was sitting, saw that he had said something to the woman sitting opposite him, the same one she had taken for his mother, his expression one of displeasure.

They were arguing about something.

She shuddered when she saw him get up suddenly and move to the exit, leaving the woman alone. She swallowed loudly when the woman turned her gaze on her, as if accusing her of something, and then took her things and left as well. She lowered her gaze to her tea and began to think hard.

What if they weren't family or co-workers?

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought of Cregan. She involuntarily grabbed her phone lying on the table and unlocked it only to see two new messages from him.

She pressed her lips together, feeling the pain, not knowing what to do. She knew that he wanted to continue their friendship, that in his own way he still loved her, but she felt tears under her eyelids.

She thought maybe it would have been better if he had left her alone, instead of tearing her wound over and over again whenever she thought it had had time to heal. She swallowed quietly and wrote him back quickly.

She locked and muted her phone, then set it aside so that she wasn't looking at the display. Royce looked at her anxiously, but didn't want to broach the subject in front of his father.

After they broke up Cregan was his number one enemy.

She managed to distract herself from her gloomy thoughts when they started working on the stand, they were attracting more interest than ever. Their show had been a huge success and she felt a burst of pride.

They had several ancillary rooms with illuminated tables. On one of them she laid out the jewellery she had worn the day before and other items in which sapphires had been used, to show them to Targaryen when he arrived, as promised.

After a couple of hours, when she had just finished talking to a customer, Royce approached her and grunted, a clear embarrassment on his face.

"Listen… young Targaryen wanted to talk to our father, but he said he didn't want to see him. He came with his grandfather. I don't know what to tell them, they just came here. Will you talk to him somehow? You have a talent for diplomatic refusal." He said, scratching his chin, and she laughed under her breath.

"I'll listen to what he has to say and then politely refuse him. If he say anything interesting, I'll pass it on to my father myself, maybe then he'll take it better." She said lightly and her brother nodded, patting her on the back and said he would replace her.

She stepped out from behind the counter and that's when she spotted him, standing in front of one of their shop windows, watching her vigilantly from the side.

"Come with me." She said softly and heard him move behind her with an unhurried step.

She led him into the dark room she had prepared for him earlier and made him realise that whatever he had to say to her father, he would have to pass it on to her first.

He looked at her from across the room like a predator, frowning his eyebrows, clearly not expecting this turn of events. She could see that he was thinking about something strenuously, saw his tongue involuntarily hit the inside wall of his cheek.

"We'll talk on my terms." He said coolly, and she tensed all over feeling that he was not happy with what he had just heard. She thought he was going to tell her that he wouldn't talk about business and such big contracts with a child.

"Tonight at 7 p.m. You, me, wine and a hotel restaurant."

She felt her lips part involuntarily, her heart stopping for a moment. She blinked, wanting to see something in his face that would tell her he was joking.

What?

She swallowed loudly feeling that she hadn't answered for too long, his gaze grew darker, he turned his face to the side, tightening his lips, impatient.

"I… yes, of course." She choked out finally, not knowing what else she could say. He looked at her again then.

"Mmm." It came out of his throat like a murmur, his lips curving for a second into what she could call a smirk of satisfaction. He turned and left without saying goodbye, closing the door behind him.

She was tired and sleepy after a full day on the stand; however, she also felt a strong rush of adrenaline at the thought that she was about to meet him. She opened the wardrobe in her hotel room, scratching her head, wondering strenuously what she should wear.

This wasn't a date, was it?

It was official meeting, but she wasn't prepared for such an occasion.

In the end her choice was a black suede fitted knee-length dress with a white collar and long sleeves, deciding it was the most elegant thing she had.

She decided to leave the blue ribbon in her hair, not wanting to look like she was going to a funeral, and took her pastel blue clutch bag with her, throwing her phone into it, not looking from the morning to see if she had received any messages.

She was afraid to look in there.

She walked down the stairs to the ground floor, heading for the hotel restaurant. She had no idea why but felt her legs shaking with stress. She turned up five minutes early and was pleased to find that he wasn't late either.

He was sitting at a two-person table arranged at the very end of the room, gazing out the window, his hand outstretched on the table moving restlessly. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, black Tshirt and black trousers.

She felt ashamed that she had dressed like a girl for the end of the school year, but it was too late to go back to change into something more lightweight. When she stopped in front of him he flinched suddenly and looked at her as if frightened. He stood up and they both looked at each other uncertainly, not knowing how they should greet each other.

She thought that she certainly couldn't embrace him, however, as a woman, she had to offer something else. She held out her hand to him and he swallowed loudly before shaking it, his hand was large and warm. She sat down opposite him, putting her clutch bag aside, smiling at him, trying to hide how stressed she was. She saw his gaze escape to the side, raised his hand and nodded towards the waiter.

After a moment a young men, not much older than her, approached them asking what they wanted to order. She was silent for a moment and then saw that Targaryen was looking at her expectantly, clearly wanting to hear what she wanted to drink. She leaned quickly over the card and glanced at him uncertainly.

"Red semi-sweet wine?" She asked more than stated, and he nodded.

"We'll have the whole bottle, please." He added, and she swallowed loudly, wondering how long this conversation was going to be and why.

Was he trying to tire her out and muddle her so that she would eventually succumb and accept his terms on behalf of her father?

She twisted uneasily in her seat at the thought, sensing that he was watching her closely and feeling like he could see her cheeks burning.

"Why did your father refuse to speak to me in person?" He asked abruptly. She looked up at him and grunted quietly, rubbing her palms against her knees in an attempt to calm herself.

She had no intention of lying to him.

"My father doesn't want to tie himself to you for a monopoly on supplies. He wants a free hand in this." She said, looking bravely into his face. His gaze was so intense that she felt a tightening in her pit. He tapped his finger on the table top involuntarily, as if he was thinking about something.

"It's a condition for such good prices. We can change them, but then the prices will also go up." He said coolly, and she pressed her lips together.

"That's why in his opinion it doesn't make sense. Why should he engage with you if at the end of the day you will offer him the same prices as the others, and you will be more demanding and restrict him more?" She asked and shuddered as the waiter placed a glass in front of her and then in front of him.

She fell silent as she waited patiently for the boy to pour them some wine and smiled as she saw his hands tremble, she thought he had worked here for a short time. She shuddered and moved away when a few drops fell on the tablecloth right next to her clutch bag, Targaryen gave him a warning look.

"I'm very, very sorry." The boy said, and she and he reached for a napkin, but she was quicker and applied it quickly to the stain, looking at him with a smile.

"Nothing happened, thank you very much." She said softly. He nodded and apologised a few more times before walking away, taking the dirty handkerchief from her.

She glanced at her companion, he was sitting leaning casually against the back of the chair watching her closely with the same gaze she had seen on their show.

"What do you mean by 'restricted'?" He alluded to her earlier statement as if something about it frustrated him. She swallowed loudly at the thought, wondering how to explain it to him so as not to offend him.

"My father values freedom of action. Also the choice of materials to work with. He now works with who he wants and decides for himself what is best for him. He fears that your company, with lawyers deliberating over every comma in the contract, will arrange it so as to influence his decisions as much as possible." She said finally, saw that he furrowed his brow at her words.

"You think we're going to try to trick your father?" He asked with a note of irritation, and she threw him an impatient look.

"Can I trust you?" She asked suddenly and saw that he froze, his lips slightly parted. He clenched his jaw and began to play with his fingers extended on the armrest.

Silence.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously, she could feel her heart pounding. She sighed quietly, not taking her eyes off him.

"I mean exactly what I asked. Can I trust you?" She repeated, looking at him pleadingly, simply wanting to hear that he meant well and understood what she was saying. His lips twitched impassively.

"No."

She looked at him and blinked rapidly, unable to believe he had said that.

No?

So what was the point of this conversation?

"You can't trust me, just as I can't trust you. You will protect your father's interests and I will protect mine. There is no friendship in business or holding hands in the sunset light." He said dryly and lowly, looking at her as if he thought she was out of her mind.

She furrowed her brow, feeling humiliation spread across her face, felt a burning sensation under her eyelids, but did not allow herself to show anything more.

"I didn't know that to trust someone you had to be able to be friends and hold hands. I thought it was enough to be a decent human being." She said in pain and for the first time she saw something twitch in his face, as if an electric current had passed through him, his hand clenched into a fist.

She reached for her glass and took a deep sip from it, feeling the dryness in her throat, her heart pounding like mad. She saw him turn his face away, running his hand over his chin, impatient, apparently trying to calm himself down internally. He, too, took his glass and took a deep sip from it, setting it down with a loud clink of glass.

"I'm not a decent person." He said finally, and she felt a tightening in her throat, as if he had slapped her.

Why did she feel around him like she did around Cregan when he broke up with her?

"Nevertheless, I have with me the terms and conditions of our company written down on paper, without paragraphs written in small print. You can look them over and determine whether you want to pass them on to your father or not." He said a little softer, biting his lower lip.

"We can't be together, I'm not ready, I want to have some fun. But we can be friends, I want to know what's going on with you, I miss you."

She felt tears running down her cheeks in embarrassment, her lower lip trembling involuntarily at the same feeling of humiliation.

She saw his healthy eye widen in shock, his lips parted. He swallowed loudly, looking at her in disbelief, and wanted to say something clearly, but they both flinched when her phone began to vibrate in her clutch bag.

She wiped her cheeks quickly, wondering what she had actually been doing, and with a trembling hand opened her purse, thinking it was her father or Royce looking for her. She felt a tightening in her stomach and turned pale when she saw that she had four new messages from Cregan and three missed calls from him, including one incoming.

The phone vibrated in her hand and she didn't know what to do, so she dismissed the call, slipping it quickly back into her bag. Targaryen looked at her as if he thought she was about to faint.

"… Are you all right?" He choked out finally, clearly horrified by her condition.

"No." She mumbled at the same time bursting out laughing, making an essentially pathetic mixture of it, grabbing the bottle standing next to her and pouring herself a full glass of wine, struggling to hold back the tears that were once again pushing their way into her eyes.

She drew in a loud breath and took a large sip, setting the glass down, looking at her hands, trying to calm herself.

She saw that he moved uncomfortably in his seat, swallowing loudly, his fingers rubbing together quickly in a sign of his anxiety. She looked at him surprised when, after a long moment, he suddenly leaned forward, took a bottle of wine from her side of the table and poured himself a full glass, as did she.

For a while they sat and drank in silence.

She felt embarrassment at the thought that she had taken it out on him for what Cregan was doing to her.

Whoever Aemond Targaryen was at least he did not lie and tried to be honest when she accused him of false intentions towards her father.

He had said nothing for which she had any right to condemn him.

She swallowed quietly at the thought and looked at him.

"I'm sorry. Thank you for your honesty. Can I have these documents?" She asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

He looked at her for a moment surprised, then nodded and reached for the folder lying next to him on the windowsill. He leaned towards her handing it to her.

She took it from him and saw that he had placed his elbows on the table, remained bent over, being closer to her. She smelled the scent of his perfume and aftershave, a pleasant, intense, masculine smell that made her head spin.

"Go over it calmly. You don't have to rush. My grandfather really cares about this and is willing to wait and read your version of the agreement if you want to present us with one." He said in a slightly softer, calmer tone, and she smiled gratefully at him and nodded.

"All right. Thank you." She said and squeezed her eyes shut as she heard her phone vibrate again.

She took it out and turned the sound off, putting it back in her purse. She saw that he was looking in that direction, involuntarily running his tongue over his lower lip.

"Someone doesn't understand the word 'no'?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to dare ask anything private.

She could see that he too was surprised that the question had escaped his throat and swallowed loudly, waiting to see if she would answer him.

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed, not knowing how she would explain her situation without going into detail.

"In a way." She said finally, grabbing for her glass again, feeling that at the moment the one thing that could calm her down was alcohol.

"Mmm." Came out of his throat, he lowered his gaze for a moment, as if thoughtful. He reached for his glass and also took a sip of wine from it.

"Let's move to my room." He said suddenly, throwing her an intense, anxious look, and she felt a shiver pass through her.

Not a proposal, not a question.

A statement.

What was he planning?

She swallowed loudly.

What if he did something to her?

What if he hurt her?

It seemed to her that he saw all these questions on her face, because he pressed his lips together, playing with his glass in his hand.

"We can think together about what to answer to a man who won't let you alone." He suggested, lifting his gaze to her again, a challenge in his eye.

She swallowed loudly, playing nervously with her fingers resting in her lap, her heart pounding hard like crazy, the alcohol slowly humming in her head.

Have some fun, she heard her brother's voice in her head.

"All right."

_____

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