#but i’ve done that and it doesn’t change anything let alone how i feel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladymunson · 4 days

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One 18+

Fic summary: Bucky struggles with his feelings toward you, which he hides by pretending he doesn’t trust you. You get placed on a mission together where trust is essential.

A/N: sorry if this is all over the place, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything so this might be a jumbled mess. Enjoy though!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f rec), fingering, language, unprotected p in v, kissing, heavy petting.

Word count: 5.3k

Not proofread and no beta (apologies for any mistakes)

I do NOT consent to my work being copied, translated or posted to any other platform.

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Dividers made by the wonderful @firefly-graphics and thank you to @jijilaufeyson for helping me make a decision.

“Are you serious?!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “I’ve been with SHIELD for three years, I can do this mission by myself. I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Yes, you do.” Bucky sneers, you turn your head towards him and glare.

“I hate to agree with Barnes but he’s right, I think you still need someone to keep an eye on you. Your ex was HYDRA after all.” Tony says, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You throw your head back in frustration, they’re never going to forget about him.

Three years ago, you had come back to the apartment you shared with you boyfriend of two years to find the place swarming with HYDRA agents. He had been assigned to you to eventually recruit you to HYDRA after they had discovered your abilities.

You’d always been able to sense how someone was feeling by just being near them and eventually it had morphed into being able to influence their emotions. You could walk into a party or a meeting and know exactly who to look out for, whether it be because they were vulnerable or someone with ill intention.

It took immense concentration, effort and energy to be able to change someone’s emotions without touching them. Which you always try and avoid, you don’t want to change someone unintentionally, you could ruin things for them. So, you manage to keep your emotions in check most of the time, and don’t accidentally influence anyone.

The moment you realised that Russell was HYDRA, you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, but they weren’t going to let you go without a fight. Luckily, you’d befriended the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, when you’d met her and Wanda Maximoff one night at a local dive bar after Russ had blown you off again. One text to her and they’d both been at your door and helped you get away from the agents and back to the safety of Avengers Tower where you’d been subjected to an intense interrogation from Tony Stark, Cliff Barton and Bucky Barnes.

You’d thought that after all the years spent training and fighting by their sides, they would trust you by now, but obviously they don’t. Or more specifically; Bucky doesn’t. Cliff had decided you were trustworthy the first time he interrogated you and had told them as much, but Bucky wasn’t hearing it. So here you were three whole years later, still deemed untrustworthy by the Winter Soldier of all people.

“You know what…?” You start and Bucky smirks at you, adding more fuel to the fire. “I’m glad you’re doing the recon alone, gives me time to pack.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “This is my last mission, I’m done. I quit!” You turn on your heel and leave the conference room without another word.

Bucky groans and places both hands on the table in front of him, flesh beside vibranium, and hangs his head.

“Well that went well Barnes.” Tony says as he walks over to the door. “Looks like I have to do damage control.” He points at Bucky. “You find something on that recon and figure out a way to fix this. We can’t lose her.” And leaves the room, the glass door swinging back and forth.

Bucky makes a fist and slams it down on the table in front of him. “Fuck!”

You stalk down the hallway, heading to your room, walking past everyone and ignoring them all as they try talking to you. Natasha notices and follows you to your room, the doors are automated so you can’t even slam it to let out your frustration. So, you throw your self face down on your bed and scream into the comforter. Natasha just stands by the door, not saying anything and waits for you to finish your screaming.

“Feel better?” She asks as you flip yourself over to lay on your back.

“I can’t believe he still doesn’t trust me! Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, I quit.” You say without looking in her direction.

“You didn’t quit.” Natasha says as she walks over to join you on your bed.

“I did, straight to Bucky and Tony’s faces. Both of them looked shocked but I don’t care anymore. I’m fucking done!” You say as you jump off the bed and begin going through your closet and putting clothes in a suitcase.

The one thing you want, is to have Bucky’s trust…. Okay there’s something you want more than his trust, but you’re never going to get it. If he doesn’t trust you to be member of his team, there’s no way he’s going to trust you in any sort of relationship. So rather than trying anymore, you’ve picked the nuclear option. Serves him right!

“Buck…?” Steve says as he walks into the conference room where Bucky is still hunched over the table. “What’s going on?”

“What is wrong with me Steve? Why can’t I trust people?”

“You mean y/n?” Steve asks. Bucky groans. “Buck, I think it’s obvious to everyone except you and y/n that you like her.” Bucky looks up at Steve. “In a romantic way.”

Bucky stammers, “N... no I don’t.” Steve raises an eyebrow and smirks at Bucky.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since she joined SHEILD, hell you haven’t even on a date in a year. You like her.”

“You’re right Steve, I do. But… She quit.” Bucky says as his head hangs head.

“What did you do? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Fix it!” Steve says and leaves the room.

You and Bucky avoid each other for the next week, but to be fair he was out doing recon for the mission with Sam, who had been ribbing him about his feelings for you and pissing Bucky off. They had however, been able to meet the mark and started integrating themselves into his world. Your role as Bucky’s girl would come later, and you couldn’t help feeling like he was ruining your chances to prove yourself. You could’ve done the getting to know the mark and maybe brought Bucky or Sam or even Steve in as your man later on.

You hated to admit it but their getting to know him first was the better plan as not many women were in that world.

The mark. Carlo Vizzini is the head of an organised crime syndicate, who deals stolen HYDRA and SHIELD weapons and technology to other members of the syndicate. The goal is to find the times and locations of all the shipments being brought into the city, finding a list of buyers would be the icing on the cake but it isn’t a priority.

Bucky’s role is to present himself as someone new to the area who wants to become a member of the syndicate. FRIDAY has come up with an elaborate backstory for the two of you, created entire histories for you both which you’ve spent the last week reviewing and learning. Your backstory isn’t too far away from your real story, so it isn’t hard to memorise. The problem is pretending to be his girl. How can you possibly work together and be convincing if it’s obvious to everyone that he doesn’t trust you. There has to be a reason why Tony suggested Bucky for the mission and not Steve, you don’t know what it is, not that you care because you won’t be around once this mission is completed.

The story. You and Bucky have moved to New York from Michigan, where was a mid level HYDRA agent who oversaw a warehouse that contained new tech. The place had been breached while he was attending a HYDRA event with you, and they had fired him for allowing the breach to happen (An actual event orchestrated by Vizzini).

You had been together for five years at the point you’re at, and Tony had decided to add the fact that you were recently engaged. So, you had to wear an obnoxiously huge diamond on your left ring finger, which really bugged you. You had both been set up in a brownstone in Brooklyn, sleeping in separate rooms but having to appear all lovey dovey in case you were being watched.

Four weeks later.

Carlo Vizzini has invited Bucky and you to an event hosted at his mansion in the Hamptons, where you will both be introduced to other syndicate members. So, you need a spa day and shopping trip where you can buy a dress for the event and be seen out and about acting like this is a normal occurrence. Tony has also arranged for someone from Tiffany to show up at your house and lend you some jewellery for the event as you’re a simple teeny hoop earring kind of girl.

You find the perfect dress while browsing online so it’s very easy to go and get it without having to actually search in store. Scratch that, Natasha found the dress for you and told you it would be a crime if you didn’t wear it.

The idea is to infiltrate the syndicate event, find the intel and get out without your cover being blown until the weapons and tech have been recovered. If your covers can last beyond that until the entire syndicate has been taken down, that’s even better.

So, you’ve been to the salon and had your hair done and are heading back to the brownstone when you notice the dark SUV you spotted outside the mall had parked across the road and the occupant was crossing over to you. You play it off like you haven’t noticed, a civilian wouldn’t have and that’s who you are for the foreseeable future.

“Excuse me? Y/N” The stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Yes? You answer, turning to face the person who has spoken to you.

“I’m sorry, I work for someone your boyfriend is trying to get into business with and he’s asked me to check that you out.”

You chuckle, “Fiancé.” The stranger looks confused. “He’s my fiancé, not my boyfriend. Does Mr Vizzini think we haven’t done the same the same to him? Can’t be too careful these days, too many con men around, especially in New York.”

The stranger seems a little taken aback by your words, but continues, like his job is at stake. “I have a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. “Okay?”

He takes a picture out of his jacket and asks. “Who is this man?”

The picture is of Sam Wilson, the Falcon but you answer, “That is Sam, James’s brother, adopted of course. “

“And how long have you been together?”

“Five years, engaged for one. Are we done here? I have to get ready for a party.” You say and turn to the steps of your brownstone, heading up to your front door.

“One more question.” You turn to face him again. “Can I use your bathroom?” You sigh and open the door, directing him the right way and stay in the hallway so he doesn’t sneak anywhere else for a snoop. You hear the cistern flush and the squeak of the faucet, but you also hear the sound of the medicine cabinet being opened. Yep, he’s snooping. A few moments later he steps out of the bathroom and thanks you as he leaves your house.

You head straight into the kitchen and start the coffee machine; you then grab a detector out of the kitchen drawer and head into the bathroom. Using it to detect for a bug, which you find in the cupboard under the sink and leave it there. You have a get out your phone and send a message, one you’ve prearranged with Bucky, telling him about the bug.

‘Can’t wait to see your reaction when you see what I have on under my dress (followed) tonight. You’re not gonna be able to keep your cool or your hands (Suspicious) to yourself’

‘New lingerie?” (Bug?)

‘Maybe (yes), but you’re gonna have to wait and see’

‘Can’t wait’ (Understood)

You’re gonna have to start your charade earlier than anticipated and act like a real couple. I suppose there are worse things in life than pretending to be in a relationship with Bucky. You can’t deny that the dude is hot.

You pretend to use the bathroom by slowly pouring a bottle of water in the toilet, flushing and washing your hands. Then you head back into the kitchen to pour yourself a coffee.

Bucky arrives home a short while later, carrying a bouquet of roses (Sam’s idea) and gives you a kiss. You feel a little twinge in your stomach, feeling his lips on yours. His kiss is light and sweet.

Feeling your lips on his sends a thrill through Bucky, the feelings he’s been trying to hide for years bubbling to the surface and he has to stop himself deepening the kiss.

“There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen babe, I’m going to start getting ready. No peeking!” You say and head upstairs.

Bucky stays downstairs to drink a coffee and makes a few phone calls, all in character of course, before heading upstairs to get into his tux which takes only a few minutes. He’s back in the living room in less than ten minutes, waiting for you join him.

Bucky isn’t downstairs for very long before he hears your heels on the upper landing and stands up to greet you but at seeing you, his breath hitches in his throat.

(This is the dress you wear)

“You’re fucking stunning!” Bucky breathes out, causing you to grin.

“Not too bad yourself James.” You reply as you walk down the stairs and take his outstretched hand.

You arrive at the house in the Hamptons, impressed with the size of the place, hanging on to Bucky’s arm. The size of it is really impressive and you live in Avengers Tower.

Bucky thinks that he must thank Natasha for picking out that dress. He can’t keep his eyes off of you, that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. Bucky knows he needs to remain professional, but he really wants to get his hands on you and bring you pleasure like you’ve never known. He won’t have any problem pretending to be your lover tonight, because that’s the only thing he wants.

The party is in full swing an hour later, you’ve mingled with everyone, hanging on Bucky’s arm, acting like he’s your entire world. And to him, you are his world. It’s not acting, he’s crazy about you and has been since you met.

Another forty-five minutes go by with the both of you all over each other, giving you a reason to sneak off at some point, to find the intel you’re there to get.

Bucky’s arm is around your waist, holding you close to him as you leave the “ballroom” where the party is. You’re acting the part really well, practically hanging off of him, hands wandering. Walking down the hallway, still all over each other, opening doors looking for a place to have some privacy. Some rooms are all occupied, but the one you’re looking for is empty, Vizzini’s office. As soon as you’re in the room and you part ways, straight back to business, heading for his desk and turning on his computer. Plugging a USB drive you take off of your bracelet into it, and copying the files.

“Heads up Buck, Carlo is on his way and he’s not alone.” Sam says over comms. The last file copies just in time, and you attach the USB back to the bracelet and walk back around the desk.

“Shit!” Bucky says. “We’re gonna get caught!”

Your brain works quickly, “I have an idea, but you have to trust me.” You say as you switch the computer off.

Bucky nods. “Okay.” You pull him over to the wall beside the door and lean against it. You reach up under your dress and remove your underwear, Bucky’s eyes bulge out of his head. You throw your panties in the vicinity of the desk and reach down to undo Bucky’s pants. “What are you doing?!” He asks.

“I told you to trust me, I’ll get us out of this.” You unbutton his slacks and bunch up your skirt a little. “Lift me.” You instruct. Bucky catches on and lifts you, so your legs are wrapped around his waist. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close. “Go with it okay?” You say. Bucky gulps but nods and your lips meet in a searing kiss that makes you both moan out loud into each others' mouths. His hips begin to move instinctively, playing the part of a man who can’t keep his hands off of his girl. Bucky feels an usual sensation, kind of like a happiness he’s never felt before. As quick as he feels it, it goes away again.

You’re moaning loudly, alternating between passionate kisses and heavy breathing when Vizzini opens the door to his office and “catches” you, entering the room with two burly bodyguards. You gasp and fake panic.

“What the…?” He exclaims, his eyes bogging out of his head before he composes himself and continues. “This is my office, not a motel room!” You giggle. “This is not a laughing matter young lady, this is very inappropriate behaviour!” Bucky lifts you and places your heeled feet back on the floor and helps you rearrange your dress before tucking his shirt back into his slacks.

“We’re sorry Mr Vizzini, but when your girl looks like this, you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.” Bucky says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“But this is my office!” Vizzini says, exasperatedly.

“We’re sorry but other rooms were occupied!” You say with a smirk. Vizzini nods and the two bodyguards rush out of the room, they return moments later, both red faced.

Vizzini nods again and turns to you. “We will not mention this again and our meeting Tuesday will go ahead.” Vizzini says. Before sitting at his desk and making a choked sound. “I think these belong to you.” He says, pointing to the black lace panties that had landed on the keyboard of his computer. You giggle and retrieve them from his desk, biting your lip as you do.

“Sorry again!” You giggle as Bucky wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the office. You head back to the party, makes it seem less like obvious that you’re involved in espionage.

You both carry on playing the devoted couple, you’re hanging off of him like someone who can’t get enough of their man. Sneaking kisses here and there, selling the bit. Vizzini reappears a little while later and blushes when you and he make eye contact, you smirk back at him and pull Bucky in for a kiss. It’s after midnight by the time your car has pulled up outside and you’ve said your goodbyes.

You’re still all over each other as you get into the car, smiling and waving to everyone as the car pulls away. You keep the act up until you’re on your way out of the Hamptons and on the free way before you separate, in case you were followed. You stay close to each other just so you can snap back together quickly if you noticed someone watching you or for when you get back to the brownstone that is your “residence” at least until this mission is over.

You can smell Bucky’s cologne and it’s been invading your nostrils since you walked down the stairs before leaving in the early evening. It’s lingering on your skin from how you’ve been all over each other all night. You recognise it as Sauvage, one of your absolute favourites. You can’t remember Bucky ever wearing it before, he’s usually a Hugo Boss guy, which is another of your favourites. You momentarily let your control slip (not for the first time this evening) and imagine what it would be like, to have Bucky’s affections and let happiness bloom inside you, but you stop it as soon as you feel it reaching your face.

Bucky has put so much effort into hiding how he feels, he feels like he’s suffocating right now. He feels something again, like a happiness that he’s never felt before. But it disappeared as quickly as he feels it. The truth is drowning him and he needs to tell you how he feels, the thought actually terrifies him though. What if you reject him? What if you don’t feel the same way?

He needs to talk to Steve, find out how to approach this because he can’t lose you before he’s even had you. The car pulls up to your brownstone and you both get out, his arm around your shoulders as you head up the steps. “I need to go run a quick errand I’ll be back soon, wait up for me?” Bucky asks.

“Of course, baby, I’ll see you when you get back.” You reply with a kiss on the lips, smiling at him as you unlock the door and step inside, closing it behind yourself and leaning against the door with a sigh.

Bucky runs to the bodega on the corner and uses their pay phone, making sure that he’s concealed before dialling.

“Hello…?” Steve answers on the fourth ring, his voice scratchy with sleep.

“How do I tell her? After everything, what do I say?” Bucky’s words are rushed out, not even telling Steve that it’s him.

Steve lets out a sigh. “Buck, just say what you feel. Honestly is the best policy. She needs to know what you feel is real and not because of what you’re both living right now. Open up, I think she will be more open than you expect. I’m going back to sleep now.” Steve hangs up and Bucky is more determined than ever.

He grabs a bottle of wine and some other items so it looks like he had a legit reason to be in the bodega, pays and heads back to your brownstone.

He unlocks the door, you’re not in the living room when he gets back so he quickly takes off the jacket of his tux and goes into the kitchen and puts the items he bought away. Bucky rolls the sleeves of his white shirt up his arms, grabs two glasses and opens the wine then heads upstairs.

You’re in your bedroom, you’ve taken off your dress and are wearing a short black silk robe. He walks in with the wine and goes to speak but the words die in his throat. He takes a deep breath and closes the door, you raise an eyebrow but take one of the wine glasses off of him as he pours the red wine into it. He pours his own, puts the bottle down and takes a big gulp from his glass.

“We need to talk.” The words rush out with his breath.

“About what?” You reply.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky says, looking straight in your eyes. “I act like I don’t trust you because it’s easier than admitting the truth, but the truth is what you deserve so here goes…” You look at him expectantly. Bucky takes another deep breath before he continues. “I like you and I have since we met, and it scared me because I’ve never caught feelings that quickly before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings like I have for you, with anyone. I think I…” he stops himself.

“You think you what?” You nudge.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You look into his eyes and the cerulean blue shows nothing but sincerity. He means it. He loves you. You contemplate telling him how you feel but actions speak louder than words.

You walk to Bucky, standing in front of him. You lick your lips he looks into your eyes, searching for hesitation and finding none. He reaches out for you, his hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you closer. His lips brush yours and your breath hitches in your throat. You look into each others eyes and you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him closer and planting a firm kiss on his lips.

Your lips feel like they were made to kiss his, they slot together perfectly, like two halves of a whole. He sighs contentedly as your lips open to allow his tongue access, your tongues dance together, caressing each other as your bodies get even closer.

Something snaps in Bucky and he pulls you towards him, walking backwards until he’s against the wall. He spins you around and pushes you against the wall, breaking the kiss and leaving you panting for breath.

“I need you to say that you want this, please say you want this. I can’t bear one more moment without touching you.” Bucky says breathlessly.

“I want it, I want you.” You say and reach out for him again. He kisses you sweetly, pulls back and sinks to his knees. He plants a kiss on the inside of your knee which makes you shudder. “Fuck!” You moan out as his mouth kisses up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your centre. Bucky lifts your robe and groans out loud, noticing that you never replaced the underwear you removed in Vizzini’s office. He grabs your knee and lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder and moving his mouth to your mound, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. “Holy shit!!” You moan out and grab Bucky’s head with one hand and scratching at the wall with the other.

Bucky groans at your taste and begins to practically make out with your pussy, his eyes glassed over as your juices drip down his chin. His uses two fingers on his flesh hand and teases your hole, gathering your slick until he can sink them into you, straight to the knuckle. He’s eating you with such fierce ferocity and fucking you with his fingers so passionately that your orgasm builds quickly. “I’m not gonna last much longer.. I’m gonna…” a long moan escapes your lips as your orgasm washes over you. You shudder and shake, struggling to breathe as you ride the waves of your climax, your cunt pulsating around his fingers.

Bucky’s oral ministrations slow as your orgasm dies down, and your breathing returns to normal. He removes his fingers and your leg from his shoulder, stands and unbuttons his shirt before removing it and using it to wipe his face. He stands there in a white vest, his face flushed and looks at you adoringly. Bucky undoes your robe and lets it fall off your shoulders, leaving you in just your bra. You reach out and undo his pants, pushing them down leaving him in just a pair of black boxers. You can see his erection straining the fabric, you want nothing more than to take what you can tell is an impressive member out of his underwear and show him how good your head game is. Bucky however has other ideas.

“Take off the bra, please. I need to see all of you.” He says, his eyes still glassy. You oblige and he groans out loud, he steps forward and pushes you against the wall again. He takes your left breast in his hand and massages gently, causing you to arch into him. He lowers his head and takes your nipple in his mouth, circling the tight bud with his tongue. Bucky stops and plants a searing kiss on your mouth, it’s sloppy, full of teeth and tongues. He pushes his underwear down as you’re kissing, depriving your view.

You still don’t get a glimpse as he grabs your ass and lifts you, your legs automatically going around his waist as you continue your assault on each others' mouths, it’s like you can’t get enough. Bucky breaks off the kiss as he looks into your eyes, the both of you are heavy breathing already. “Ready?” He asks, you nod. “Words baby.”

“Yes please!” You feel the head of his cock against your entrance, gathering as much of your creamy slick as he can. Before notching inside you, your eyes roll back in your head as he slides into your wet cunt, painstakingly slowly. He wants you to feel every inch, every vein, the way he throbs for you. Once he bottoms out in you, you release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Your arms are around Bucky’s shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. You’ve never felt so full, so… complete. There’s a slight sting and burn, you can only assume but there’s a very good chance that he’s big and girthy.

Bucky plants a kiss on your lips before he begins to move, sliding out of you, almost completely before sinking into you again. The air is knocked from your lungs, you feel amazing as his cock slides in and out of you at an agonisingly slow pace. You moan out loud at the sensation.

“Faster!” You groan out, frustrated at how slow he’s fucking you.

“All in good time, I need to feel you.” Bucky moans out, but pretty soon he can’t just revel in the feeling. He needs to move faster, chasing his end. His hips snap up quicker and your moaning increases in volume, that heat in your belly building again with each thrust of his hips.

Bucky takes your mouth again, kissing you with all of him as he fucks into you with abandon. Your moans and tongues intertwined, your heavy breathing entering each others' mouths. Your hands carding through Bucky’s hair, tugging gently on the strands at the nape of his neck. Each time you do it makes his hips thrust harder and makes him grunt. But you have to stop after a minute as the heat blooming in your belly expands more until it can go no further.

It snaps and blooms upward and downward, sending heat to your toes and making you see white. Your climax makes your head roll back and you let out a scream of pleasure. There’s a new sensation as your orgasm hits, the feeling of white-hot heat spreading through him. Happiness, love, every positive feeling ever shoots through him and the spasms of your cunt around his cock, prematurely sets off his orgasm. He has wanted to draw another two or three from you before his end but he can’t hold it back.

He roars out, even the way your climax muffled your hearing you heard him. You’ve never heard anything like that, the sound was primal, animalistic. Your breathing slows and you lower your head to look at him, he’s staring back at you, looking completely fucked out, but so do you.

“You okay baby?” Bucky asks, breathing heavily and pulling your face towards him so he can kiss you. You can’t even speak, you just about nod before he lifts you off the wall and carries you over to the bed. He lays you down and pulls his semi-hard cock out of you, which makes you whine. He goes into your en suite and grabs a washcloth to clean you up, before joining you on the bed. He pulls you close and you snuggle into his warm body, your hand rests on his chest, just above his heart.

Happiness blooms in his chest once more, a content feeling. He realises that you’re projecting onto him with your abilities but you’re too out of it to realise. The feeling is one of pureness, a feeling of love. Bucky realises he has had this feeling before, many times, the first time was the day he met you. He really did feel love at first sight, he didn’t think it was possible but it happened. And now you both knew how the other felt, there’s no way he was going to go back to the way it was. And you’re not leaving SHIELD. Not unless he leaves with you, because from now on, you are one.

THE END?

Posted 23/04/2024

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #ladymunson #Bucky Barnes x female reader #18+ only

338 notes · View notes

blainesebastian · 4 months

Text

something real

words: 13,045 ship: austin butler x female reader rating: SFW except for one explicit scene summary: i took inspo from a request about fake!dating for a wedding and from another film with a similar premise. what else do you do when your ex is getting married? hire a fake date notes: feel free to visit my austin masterlist warnings: none, but check the rating. tag list: @austinbutlermischief, @killerqueenfan, @stylespresleyhearted,

“You’re losing it.”

A short laugh escapes your lips because god, maybe you are. This all started out easily enough—you needed a date for your ex’s wedding. Right, the fact that you were even invited kind of drives you crazy. It’s not like you didn’t have a good relationship with Todd, you did? But it also doesn’t change the fact how things ended—he ‘meant’ to break things off with you but started seeing someone at the same time. Claire. The girl he’s marrying. But you’re not about to go through life with grudges and anger when you can just let things go.

Which is why you’ve entertained this wedding invitation in the first place?

But to go alone? That’s a fate worse than death.

Which, ironically, is exactly what your friend, Jill, is telling you you’re going to be with this idea you’ve come up with.

“It’s all perfectly safe.” You mutter, sliding onto a bar stool and turning to look at her. You’re wearing a light blue dress, pair of booties, and jean jacket. Just casual enough but also hinting you’ve got a figure to show off if you really wanted to.

She scoffs, “Yeah, that’s what everyone says before they end up on 60 Minutes.”

You can’t help but smile, tugging the file out of your course before setting it on the bar top. “Do you want me to explain it again?”

Jill puts her hands on her hips—as if that will somehow make her comfortable with all of this, but she’s not protesting either. So you open up the file and—

“So my neighbor’s used this service before to go to her high school reunion, you know, so she didn’t end up there alone. She went onto their online platform, filled out a survey and bam, she was matched with someone to go.”

Jill narrows her eyes, “For twenty thousand dollars.”

“Well it’s not charity,” You throw back, “I’ve done the research, there’s a ton of reviews—all positive. It’s not like it’s about sex or anything, it’s just…companionship for one event.”

Jill looks at the file, crinkling her nose, “There’s so many other ways you could have done this—Rick, the guy in 6B? He’s always thought you were cute.”

You laugh a little, “If I go out with Rick, there is a good chance I’ll end up missing some limbs—dude is creepy, Jill.”

Her friend rolls her eyes but it’s fond, opening up the file and pointing to a blank spot where this guy’s photo should be, “Okay, but you don’t even get to know what he looks like?”

“I think it was my Wi-Fi,” You state honestly, “Some of the images weren’t loading. But that’s why you’re here,” You grin, “Safety measures. So—” You gently push on one of her hips, “Go find a table, order a drink while I wait for Austin.”

“That’s the gigolo’s name?”

“Wedding date,” You correct, shooing her away until she heads to a table.

Taking a breath, you look at the reflective surface of the bar mirror in front of you, mentally praying that this somehow not a huge mistake and order a drink.

Chewing on the drunken cherry in your Manhattan, you glance down the bar as you see someone handsome talking to a small group of women. You wonder if that’s Austin, looking for you—he’s about ten minutes late. Your stomach clenches anxiously, knowing that maybe Jill was right and this is utterly ridiculous. But…you got invited to the wedding late (either it was a last-minute thought or it got lost in the mail) but there was no way you could organically find someone to ask.

Sure, you could have brought Jill or some other friend but…deep down? You know this is about making Todd feel utterly stupid for cheating on you, for leaving you for someone else. You don’t want him back, of course, but that feeling of satisfaction? That look on his face when he sees you with someone else? You want it.

You can’t not go and you can’t find someone random in your life already to go with…so when your neighbor mentioned this quick fix? How could you not look into it? You’ve got a ton of money saved from over the years, not to mention a small investment your grandfather put in your name. What’s the harm in looking into this, right?

“Y/N?”

Turning on the bar stool, you nearly swallow your own tongue as you’re met face to face with who you assume is Austin. And joke’s on you because he’s ten times more beautiful than the other guy at the bar you saw talking to those women. He’s tall, lean, in a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket. Easily handsome, like…James Dean or Elvis Presley. Doesn’t have to try very hard.

And suddenly something hysterical crawls up your throat as he takes a seat next to you, introduces himself as Austin, and apologizes for being late because of traffic because—

“I’m sorry—” You interrupt, shaking your head, “This uh, this isn’t going to work.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, his mouth opening and closing, “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” You laugh lightly, cheeks heating up. There’s this sickly sensation gripping your stomach, telling you to run, “No one is going to believe that we’re dating.”

And maybe that’s something oddly pathetic you shouldn’t have uttered outloud because what’s even worse, Austin seems to grip what you’re saying and his features soften. You do not want pity or sympathy, you’re just…stating a fact.

Austin takes in a soft breath and looks towards the bartender, ordering himself a beer, confusing you a little because you expected him to just…take off. There’s no money involved at this point, it’s a clean break. This meeting is just to discuss details.

“I think you’re underestimating yourself,” He states gently, eyes sweeping over your form. And god, he’s good, isn’t he? You suppose this is his job, making women feel good. Confident. Even though it’s all a lie.

Letting out a breath as his drink is set down on the bar, you figure there’s no harm in…talking with him, right? He came all this way; you can at least wait until he finishes his beer to turn him down. You’ll just go to this damn wedding alone—it’s really not that big of a deal, right?

Austin takes off his leather jacket, hanging it up on a hook underneath the bar and he smells amazing—some sort of cologne that’s fresh and almost citrusy. You run a hand through your hair and order another Manhattan.

“So your request said a wedding?”

“My ex,” You clarify, “And I don’t want him back, or anything, I just want him to feel like an idiot.”

Austin smiles a little, humming— “Well, that shouldn’t be too hard. I’m assumin’ he already is one.”

A small laugh stutters forward in your chest because yes, he is. Your shoulders start to relax just a little because maybe Austin gets it. By not going or going alone you…you don’t want Todd to think that he’s somehow gotten one over you, that you’re lonely or broken ever since you’ve separated.

“Have you…done weddings before?”

He shifts a little on the barstool so that he’s facing you a little easier, “I’ve done weddings the most,” He admits, “Two high school reunions, one funeral.”

You raise your eyebrows, setting your drink down on the bar. “A funeral?”

Austin shrugs lightly, “Some women just want a hand to hold on their hardest day, a shoulder to cry on. Someone to talk to.” He licks his lips, taking a sip of his beer, “I’m not one to judge.”

You straighten your shoulders and…you suppose you’re really not in a position to do that either, given you’re here to hire Austin so you feel less alone and pathetic at a wedding. You take a long look at him for a moment, —curious. He doesn’t want to be doing anything else?

“Can I ask—why are you doing this?” Your fingers trace shapes into the condensation on your glass. “This whole fake-date program?”

Austin clears his throat, “You can ask me whatever you want,” He starts and that within itself seems like a dangerous proposition. “I work at this café near here but uh, it doesn’t exactly bring a lot of money in. I want to be an actor, like…a serious one, the money I get from these dates I’m savin’ up to go to L.A.”

And he essentially gets to pretend to be someone he’s not. Like an endless list of auditions.

There are other things you want to ask, other questions stuck in your throat about doing weddings. Why weddings? The whole concept seems like a bad idea—a high school reunion, a holiday party, even a funeral makes more sense, doesn’t it?

Those aren’t emotionally connected events, there’s no…opportunities to fall into something deeper than what the contract of attachment allows. But weddings? It’s about love and finding your person and…going to one with someone else feels like such a slippery slope.

Or maybe it doesn’t because Austin is a professional.

“So if I…if we do this, what does it entail, exactly?” You take another sip of your drink, as if you need the liquid courage for his response.

A small smile graces his handsome face again, “Don’t overthink it. It’s whatever you want, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You feel like there’s this heat uncoiling in your belly even though he’s not suggesting anything. Somehow, it’s in the ocean blue of his eyes—a depth there. You clear your throat, “You mean uh—if I require a dance partner? Because I love to dance at weddings…usually badly.”

Austin laughs warmly but shakes his head. “I meant if I was goin’ as your date or a boyfriend.”

And oh, of course, you hadn’t even thought about it but of course Austin would want a more specific role to sink his teeth into and your mind spins about what you want to do. It’s just one night, one silly wedding, there’s no long con here. It’s not like Todd will even care who you show up with, right? You’re the one who wants to feel less lonely—

And yet—

“You can think about it, if you need to—”

“Boyfriend.” You say, cutting him off. Heat returns to your cheeks…mise well go big or go home, right? If you’re going to do this? This has got to be a bad idea, right?

“Okay,” Austin smiles, “Good.”

So it’s settled that he’ll meet you at your place beforehand, you’ll iron out details of your relationship in case anyone asks and then you’ll go to the wedding together.

Austin stands and he tosses some cash on the bar counter (enough to cover your drink as well) and he hovers for a moment, tugging on his leather jacket. “My number’s in the file, in case you need it.”

Then there’s a moment where Austin watches you, fixing the lapels of his jacket. His one hand then rests on the bar, taking a step closer to you, and the way that you’re seated, your legs open just slightly to accommodate his body in your space.

“Don’t hit me, alright?” He smiles a little, leaning down, and honestly you’re the one that feels like you’re getting sucker punched in the stomach. Air right out of your lungs. “It was nice meeting you.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry as your eyes flutter to his lips, “Yeah, you too.”

There’s more than enough time for you to pull away, but you don’t, so he kisses you.

It’s nothing obscene, but slow and gentle. Warm. Just enough to make your heart pound against your ribcage, electricity singing in your veins. You suppose it’s something you should get used to if Austin is going to pass as your boyfriend.

You raise your eyebrows a little as he pulls away, hot under the collar of your jean jacket.

“Figure we’d just get that out of the way so you could concentrate.” He teases and god, your mind is spinning. You kinda hate that he’s made you feel like this so easily, like somehow it’s second nature.

“What, that doesn’t cost extra?” You manage to throw out there, finding your voice.

Austin grins, another soft laugh rumbling in his chest. “I’ll see you soon.”

You let out a slow breath, running a hand over your hair as you watch him walk out of the bar before downing the rest of your drink.

“So that’s your date, huh?” Jill asks as she comes up behind you—honestly her voice kinda sounds like cotton in your ears. “Todd is gonna swallow his own tongue.”

And you can’t help but grin.

You meet one more time before the wedding, just…something to solidify that you do, in fact, know what you’re doing. But also to get a bit more comfortable around Austin and the fact that he’s going to be your boyfriend. You let out a slow breath, aggravated by how crazy that sounds. Maybe Jill’s right, maybe this is a bad idea (despite how handsome and charming Austin is).

He’s picked you up to go somewhere but won’t tell you where. And when the engine turns off, you undo your seatbelt and look out the windshield, “A custard house?”

“Was hopin’ you could go for somethin’ sweet,” Austin smiles a little, “They make these waffle custard sandwiches that’ll change your life.”

You hum lightly and start to get out of the car, a little confused because…well, you’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. “We’re here for ice cream sandwiches?”

Austin scrunches his nose in mock offense at her flippant description, “No, we’re here for waffle custard. You need to work on listenin’, come on.” He gets out of the car too and locks the doors.

You know you’re about to paying Austin a decent amount of money to be your stand-in date, your fake boyfriend, dragging him to this wedding for god knows what reasons make sense in your head but…you suppose you didn’t count on him being like this. A tiny bit thoughtful, sweet, funny even.

Or maybe he’s already a decent actor.

You follow him to the counter, your eyes trailing over at least thirty different custard flavors—not only that, but there’s twice as many toppings. How are you supposed to choose?

“You know what you want already?” You ask as Austin rolls up the sleeves of his jean jacket a little.

“I always know what I want.” He leans on the counter, turning towards the woman at the register to order French vanilla—but stops when you make a noise. He looks at you over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Somethin’ you wanna share?”

You purse your lips and rocks back onto your heels, shaking your head, “No I just…vanilla, really? You don’t seem like the type.” She teases.

Austin smirks, straightening his back. “Oh, huh.” He motions to the large display menu. “Put your money where your mouth is, baby. What should I order?”

You let the pet name slide (and it does, like heated molasses right down in your veins), which is probably a dangerous slippery slope, but you’re too busy trying to take in a custard selection at the moment to care. You chew on your lower lip, slipping through the flavors written in chalk on the board and decides to go with your favorite pairing—

“He’ll have chocolate and strawberry custard in that waffle sandwich thing with…” You hum, “Caramel sauce and chocolate sprinkles.” You smile, clearly happy with your selection before ordering the same for yourself…except you also get chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

Because why the hell not?

“You’re gonna have that all over you before the night is over.” Austin motions to the dripping mess in your hands, carefully shelled between fresh waffles wrapped up in foil.

You slide yourself onto the hood of Austin’s car, almost sliding back down but managing to lean against the windshield before losing your custard sandwich.

“Challenge accepted.”

Austin smiles a little, sitting down next to you, looking far too handsome sprawled out on his car.

You realize that everything between you both is so dangerous, wrapped in gentle dynamite, the softest breath or touch capable of explosion. But it’s also tantalizing in a way that excites you—Austin is different, gentle but rough with the walls he keeps up.

Everything about this is a lie –circles in your head, over and over, trying to remind you not to take anything too seriously. And yet? You bury it deep with a bite of your custard sandwich. You moan softly and lick chocolate off your lips because Jesus, this is incredible.

Austin smirks, licking custard between the waffle before he takes a bite of his own. “Told you it was worth the stop.”

“I’m not going to admit you somehow know all just because you have decent taste in custard.” You smile and takes another bite of your waffle sandwich, leaning back to watch cars drive by.

“Give it time.” Austin glances over and you can feel his gaze, always like a magnet tracing the curves of your body. You want to tell him that you enjoy when he looks at you like that, to be felt and seen all at the same time, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You wonder if he looks at every woman who’s ever paid him like that.

You’re not sure you want to know.

You turn and meet his gaze, holding it for a moment before a small smile graces your lips. “Do you really work at a café?”

He nods, leaning further up against the windshield. “It’s called Mug Half Full; been there about three years.” He licks his lips, pulling a napkin from his pants pocket and wiping his chin where he feels caramel sticking. “What do you do? You didn’t mention it in your email.”

You swallow down a bought of self-loathing at the question and decide to take another bite of your sandwich; sweet hiding sour. “I uh, I’m kinda in-between jobs at the moment.” You know Austin has to be able to see through that terrible excuse of an answer. “I’m currently getting an online degree in education.”

Austin finishes his custard waffle, which is admirable because yours is two seconds away from becoming soup in your hands. You lick at the sides as he crumples up a napkin and puts his trash in a can nearby so it’s not in either of your way.

“What do you want to do?”

The question shouldn’t offend you as much as it does, the want and need to defend yourself raising your hackles a bit. You bite down on reacting too sorely; he’s just asking a question—and you realize you haven’t given him a reason not to ask something like that. Your bland response is what prompts the statement.

You suppose you’re just…too used to people asking that, especially since society makes you feel like you somehow got a late start in figuring things out. In reality, it’s never too early or too late to be whoever you want. You’re just…getting to that.

You clear your throat, setting your custard sandwich down on your lap a moment, the foil protecting your clothes. “I have no idea,” You admit with a soft laugh, “My relationship with my ex kinda took all my energy—supporting whatever he needed, you know? Now I’m just starting to figure myself out.” And you’re proud of that progress, even though it feels like pushing a boulder up a hill sometimes. “I might teach maybe, one day.”

He holds your gaze for a moment, slight amusement dancing in the corners of his eyes. He smiles gently, looking down at your hands before he picks up your sandwich and licks whipped cream off the corner. Ridiculously obscene and unnecessary but you let him do it anyways.

You have apparently become accustomed to sharing things—you’ve noticed that he continues the ruse of soft touches and intimate gestures when no one’s watching. You think it’s to help solidify the fact that you’re supposed to be dating, supposed to be into one another. Which isn’t very hard when he does things like that with his tongue.

Austin tosses your trash like he did with his own before turning to look at you, handing you a napkin to wipe your hands off. “I could tell you wanted more. And you know, there’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

Then why does it feel so guilty for you to admit— “Sometimes it feels selfish, to want things for myself.” You swallow, letting it sink into the air. You’ve never told anyone that before, not even your best friend or your parents.

“Sounds like someone really selfish made you feel that way.” He says gently and it’s like…wool has been taken off your eyes. Something you maybe knew but needed to hear.

It’s not what you expect him to say, not in the slightest, but it warms you from the inside out either way. You nod because yes, you’ve never thought about it like that but yes, that’s it exactly. Realizing that taking care of yourself is one of the best things you can do—knowing yourself and that you deserve to want, that it’s normal, even.

Austin hums softly, moving to slip off the car. You swing your legs around and when he offers you his hand, you take it to slide off as well.

How easy it would be to lean up and kiss him, how he’d probably taste like hints of chocolate and strawberry. You wait for him to let you go, for his hand to stop holding yours. But he doesn’t.

You lick your own lips, your eyes looking to his lower one, how it pouts out gently when he looks at you—and you decide to stop waiting for things you want. If you’re going to pay for his company, you might as well enjoy it.

You press your lips into his own, capturing something sweet, lips moving together like you both were always made to kiss. Austin’s one hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your hair back around your ear before eventually pulling back. You’re breathing a little shakily, your noses brushing, Austin taking his time to trace your cheekbone with his lips before he opens up the car door for you.

“You’re not charging me extra for the gentleman treatment, are you?” Or for the kisses I keep stealing?

Austin smiles, a soft laugh leaving his throat as he waits for you to put your seatbelt on. “Not yet.” And closes the door with a wink.

You think about canceling six times between when you wake up on the day of the wedding to the moment you slide your dress over your head. You’ve told yourself that this was and continues to be a terrible idea and if you hadn’t paid him half up front through a cash app, you’d have the nerve to tell him never mind. Kisses and all, you really feel like you’re starting to lose your damn mind.

Though you know even if you told Austin to forget the whole thing, you still have to go to this wedding. (You could probably skip it no big deal, but the last thing you want is Todd to assume you’re bothered either). Canceling now would definitely mean going alone and you can’t stomach it, not when you feel like all of your insides are already in knots.

You smooth your hands down the front of your dress as you hear the doorbell, taking the steps downstairs carefully in your gold heels. You’ve settled for a navy-blue number that shows just enough cleavage and is ruffled at your middle, hugging curves and kissing your skin beautifully. You feel confident and comfortable, which is important for a long night.

You sigh, glancing at your front door for a moment before turning the knob and opening up to see Austin. He’s standing in a suit, beautifully polished, hair perfectly coifed on his head. A navy button-down underneath a gray suit jacket, tie to match with a red spidery design that reminds you of tree branches in the winter.

A crinkle appears between Austin’s eyebrows because, “Why are you shakin’ your head?” He asks as he steps over the threshold and you close the door.

“I just naturally assumed you were going to show up in black. Black in your profile picture that finally loaded, black at the bar… I thought that was the only shade you owned.”

He runs a hand lightly over his chest. “Grays in the same shade family.” He’s joking but you’re not laughing and finally he just throws his hands up a little, “What’s the big deal?”

“Because we match.”

Austin looks down at himself and pauses, doesn’t get it, gives you a look that makes you feel a little crazy. “That a bad thing?”

“It’s—” No, it’s not exactly a terrible idea but it somehow digs under your skin because you want today to be perfect and Austin is supposed to be your boyfriend and you can’t be that couple that goes all matchy-matchy to events, right?

What are the odds that he shows up in something that is the exact same color as your damn dress?

“It’s too perfect, it’s not believable.” You say and he raises his eyebrows because that does not make one lick of sense. He takes a step towards you and you mirror one back, shaking your head.

Austin lets out a slow breath because you’re nitpicking and it annoys him, a flare of impatience decorating his handsome face. “Well I don’t exactly got another suit in my back pocket and we’re already late.”

You narrows your eyes, “Just…follow me. I’ll change.”

You’re up the stairs and in your bedroom before you realize what you’ve said, Austin slipping in behind you and looking around the room, drinking you in with permission you’ve accidently given him. You turn suddenly and slip off your heels, pressing one hand to his chest to stop him.

“Don’t move.”

He smiles a little and nods his head, sticking his hands in his pockets as he watches you slide into your walk-in closet to change. You sigh softly and run a hand over your forehead before you take a moment to unzip your dress and glance at your options.

“A lot of beige.”

You roll your eyes and pull out a black dress, quickly pulling it on and kicking your navy blue one to the side before stepping out of your closet. You don’t bother to zip it up until you make sure it’s the right one.

Austin has dutifully not moved from the spot on the carpet where you’ve left him and he scrunches his nose at your dress, “You goin’ to a wake?”

“What’s wrong with beige?” You glance around your bedroom; at the little accents you’ve added that have color to them. Some shades of coffee colored brown and touches of teal here and there. It’s minimalist but tasteful.

“It’s just not what I pictured.”

“You pictured my bedroom?” You ask, but the corners of your mouth pull slightly as you put your hands on your hips.

Austin tilts his head at you, eyes traveling over your body in an unashamed way. “Maybe.” He pauses for a moment to let that sink into your pores. “You don’t seem like a beige. Also, no to that dress. I can maybe get you not wantin’ to match completely but that doesn’t line up with what I got on at all.”

You nod and turn to go back into your closet, pulling the dress off and standing far too long in your underwear trying to decide on a color range. You could go gold…but that feels too flashy, gray is out of the question and so is another navy dress so…

You finger red fabric for a moment that matches the scarlet on Austin’s tie and pull it off the hanger.

“I’m not actually that fond of beige,” You admit over your shoulder as you pull the dress up—it’s a fit and flare that kind of reminds you of the sixties. Something that hugs your waist with a high-neck tanked top and flares out like a wide flame at the bottom. It hits just below your knees and your gold heels will still go nicely with it.

“But the house kinda came this way and…I never took the time to fix it.” You walk out of the closet, pulling your hair free from underneath. “Todd didn’t like bold colors anyways.”

Austin’s eyes descend on you like a cold rush of water, a wave crashing down onto your shores. He stares for what feels like a long time, his hands coming out of his pockets like he wants to touch but can’t—too far away. You smile softly as his gaze sticks, he’s captivated by the dress, and you notice he has to shake his head as you approach to be able to speak to you.

“So I’m guessin’ he’s not gonna like this.” He reaches to touch your waist, fingers pressing warmly into the fabric.

You chew on the inside of your cheek a moment, looking up at him. “Do you like it?”

He smirks gently, pulling on your elbow to turn you around. He doesn’t reply but you feel suddenly naked under his gaze as your bare back is exposed to him. He takes his time finding the zipper and slowly draws it up into place, fixing the little hook at the top. His hands rest against your shoulders and guide down, squeezing your arms before letting you go.

“Get your shoes. We’re already late.”

You let out a long sigh that somehow turns into a pout, making him smile, “We could stay here, you could give more wisecracks about my bedroom decorum.”

Austin smirks and grabs your purse from where it’s seated on the bed as you slip your heels back on. “As amazing as that sounds, that’s not what you’re payin’ me for.”

And the words sound sour, swallowing them down, nodding your head as you leave the bedroom with him.

The wedding itself isn’t actually terrible—it’s beautiful in a way that would make any woman envious. Lots of flowers and gold designs and as you watch the entire ceremony take place, you have moments where you wonder why you’re here. Was it really that important for you to show up? And not only that, but pay a date to be here? You keep going back and forth, like a serious game of tug-of-war.

Why did it matter if you showed up alone? Or with Jill?

Austin helps you with your coat, his hand on your lower back as you walk out of the church and towards the reception hall which is being held in this beautiful botanical garden that has rooms you can rent for things like this.

People begin to pile into the building, pausing at the coat check before heading into the reception all, and it’s right there that you suddenly feel like bolting. Truth is? Todd was your boyfriend for years before your breakup (a breakup that might have never happened if you hadn’t realized he was cheating, because clearly he hadn’t taken the initiative until it was too late). And it’s probably so stupid that you remained friends with him, that you were invited to this wedding, that you for some reason care about what he thinks—even now.

But you do.

You should have just moved on and thrown the wedding invitation in the trash but…feelings don’t always come in black and white. You constantly live in a shade of gray.

And you’re worried someone is going to see right through you tonight.

Austin squeezes your hand, getting your attention as you remain grounded by the coat check. He’s patient, waiting until your gaze meets his own. “You’re shakin’.” His other hand covers the one he’s already holding.

You nod your head and offer a smile you don’t feel. “I thought this would be easy. Having you here as a distraction, smiling at all the right times and drinking too much wine in a nice dress,” You shrug your one shoulder, “It doesn’t change how I feel.”

Despite the small amount of privacy the coat check wall provides, you can feel eyes on you two from different parts of the room; people slipping past to get a glass of champagne from the cash bar, fluttering in-between hors d'oeuvres tables and congratulating the couple. Guests who know who you are, who are whispering about you. You can hear Todd a few feet away; big laughs and too loud discussions that tell you he’s a little drunk but genuinely happy.

Or maybe this is all in your head.

“Look, I think you were gonna feel this way no matter if you came alone or with someone.” He runs his thumb over your knuckles. “But you can still do all the other things you mentioned,” Austin leans in, brushes his lips over your cheekbone as he talks, “Drink too much wine in a beautiful dress and smilin’ definitely doesn’t hurt.”

He pulls back and you lick your lips, wanting nothing more than to lean up and kiss him again. To feel his arms wrap around you and pull you close, back outside, to his car, away from this place where you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.

Austin grasps your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, waiting until your eyes meets his own again. He leans forward to brush your lips together, gently, more to distract you than anything else because it’s not a kiss.

“Women hire me because they want to feel wanted and if that’s what you need to hear, then fine, I do want you, Y/N.” You let out a breath that sounds too shaky for your own good, your knees slightly buckling. All the other gazes you once felt on you fade away, until it’s only you and Austin in an empty botanical garden.

“But hearin’ that doesn’t matter until you want things for yourself. You want someone to believe in you? You want to feel confident? Wanted?” His hand falls to your waist, “Good enough?”

You swallow thickly, his words reaching something that’s still raw inside of you, that still hurts to think about. You want to pull away, nearly do, but instead surrender to his weight against you. It’s not his fault that he does a better job of reading you than you do looking in a mirror.

“Then it has to come from you first.”

You shake your head as he pulls away, his hand very simply returning to yours as you both move towards the cash bar. “I know you think you know me from a few meetings and a detailed email request. But you don’t.” Your words at least sound stronger than you feel.

Austin looks at you over his shoulder and smiles but says nothing in return.

Maybe the problem is, he does know you, even from the simplest interactions. Maybe you’re just not used to being seen. Todd never saw you, even when you gave him so many chances to try. You suppose at that point you need to want to try.

You’re seated at a table that has mostly co-workers and friends and you attempt not to cringe when someone asks you how you know the bride and groom. Austin swoops in and responds that they’re friends, his arm stretched out over the back of your chair. You’re grateful because the words we dated are sitting in your throat like a lump, difficult to swallow over.

The night spins forward, you’re able to avoid the bride and groom for the duration of it, just enjoying food and a little bit too much wine and hanging out with Austin. There are long conversations where you get to know one another, fill one another in about things that are real, beyond the layers of this fake-date situation.

It’s nice, seeing him in that light, getting to know him as if you’d bumped into him at a bar and enjoyed his company.

You almost wish that was the case, instead.

His arm squeezes around your waist as you both dance on the dance floor, his jacket on the back of his chair, dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. You’re definitely a little tipsy, the room is rose-colored, but all in all? It feels like a crisis has been avoided, you’re actually having a good time.

“Can I get you another glass of wine?” Austin asks, brushing his lips over your forehead, “Maybe some cookies from the dessert table?”

You grin, “You know me so well.” And it’s not a line, somehow, you’ve been craving cookies for the past half hour.

Austin smiles, nods, squeezes your waist and leaves you to do just that. You somehow ache with missing the heat of his body once he’s gone—and that’s how you know you’re slightly in over your head. You have to keep reminding yourself that none of this is real—the way Austin talks to you or looks at you, the way his hands travel over your body, the slight brush of his lips against your own.

It's all a lie.

A lie that you paid for.

Running a hand over your forehead, you turn and nearly bump into someone, blinking as you look up and—

“Todd.”

Your ex smiles, “Hey—I’m so glad you came, I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Neither was I, “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” Chewing on your lower lip, you’re struck with being unsure of what to say, scanning the crowd for Austin before clearing your throat, “Uhm, everything has been beautiful.”

Todd smiles, nodding, taking a look around for his bride. “Thank you. Are you uh, here with Jill?”

You open and close your mouth like a goldfish until you feel that familiar arm slide around you. “No this is Austin,” You take the glass of wine and have a hearty sip and it instantly makes your head spin.

Todd clears his throat and even though he’s smiling, it’s clear he’s giving Austin a once-over. He did not expect you to be here with someone. “I didn’t know you were bringing a friend that wasn’t Jill.” He kinda laughs, like maybe it’s a joke that you don’t have many other close friends other than her.

But Austin is quick to smile, “Actually, I’m her boyfriend.”

And there it is, the look on Todd’s face that you were after this whole time. It’s quick, gone almost as soon as it appears, but lingers in his eyes. Regret, maybe even jealousy. Even though his wife appears by his side and introductions are exchanged.

Luckily the conversation doesn’t last very long, the bride and groom are swept towards other people, more dancing. Which is good because you’re pretty sure you noticed that the bride couldn’t keep her eyes off of Austin.

What a couple her and Todd make.

Downing the rest of the wine, you set it on the table, letting out a slow breath. Austin keeps his hands firm on your hips and you can’t quite meet his eyes. You’re not quite sure how…this wasn’t what you expected, nor wanted.

Just feels like a big mistake.

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks quietly, seeming to read your mind.

You nod and he keeps his arm around you until you make it outside and reach his car.

That last glass of wine did you zero favors and by the time you make it to your front door, you’re dropping your keys instead of sliding them into the lock. Austin smiles a little, picking them up and unlocking everything, pushing the door open. You’ve got a firm hand on his shirt because you’re swaying slightly, almost a little afraid of what might happen if you let go.

What if all of this is one weird dream?

“Where are we going?” You ask as he comes inside, closing the door behind him.

“Water n’bed.” Austin replies as he guides you into the living room.

You scrunch your nose and look to the ceiling, definitely knocking yourself off balance as the room spins. Austin lets out a short grunt as he catches you, steadying you against his chest.

“In that order? That’s so boring.”

He chuckles slightly, guiding you both until he has you in front of the couch, encouraging you to sit. “You got somethin’ else you’d rather do?”

You can’t help but grin at the question, poking at his chest. “I think you know what I’d rather like to do.” It’s like hot lava pouring from your lips, you can’t seem to stop it even though you know you’ll have burns later.

Austin hums under his breath but doesn’t respond, concentrates instead on keeping you on the couch once you’re seated.

“Stay there,” He says when you try to get up, holding onto your shoulders and pressing you gently down. “You good or you gonna slip off?” There’s an amused smile pulling handsomely at his lips as he tilts his head down to look at you, slipping his thumb and forefinger along your chin.

“Good, I’m so good.” You nod, determined to give him responses that make sense. You just wish the room would stop spinning.

Only when he feels like you mean it does he pull away from you. You closes your eyes as your fingers grip the cushion, trying to hold yourself in place. None of this really helps and instead you just end up feeling nauseas, forcing your eyes to open so you can see Austin.

He’s taken his jacket off, tie gone and shirt unbuttoned a bit, and seeing his chest and forearms makes heat unwantedly pool between your legs and you lick your lips, trying to focus on what he has in his hands.

“He…he honestly didn’t think I’d be there with anyone.”

A crinkle appears between Austin’s eyebrows and he pauses, “What?”

You swallow, not sure if your trail of thought makes sense. “Todd. Jerk.” You give as an explanation.

Something passes over Austin’s face but it’s gone as soon as it appears and he crouches in front of you, his one hand slipping over your knee a moment, “Do you actually care what he thinks?”

You hold his gaze for a long moment before shaking your head. He hums softly, squeezing, his thumb between your thighs and it’s really too distracting.

“Then fuck him; neither of those two seemed like they should be giving relationship advice.”

You giggle something ridiculous and cover your face with your hand a moment, glad you were able to make sense of all that even though you probably didn’t need to bring it up.

“You got anythin’ like a long t-shirt?” He changes the subject as he makes a motion to go upstairs. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get pants on you.”

You huff out a sound and rub a hand over your face, most likely smearing makeup in the worst way. “That’s alright, I like bein’ pantless.” You reach over and is happy you don’t tumble, using one hand to hold onto his shoulder to get his attention. “Upstairs, first drawer on the right.”

He’s back and forth quickly; makes you wonder how long you’ve actually been sitting there.

Him undressing you is a blur; you note that he does his best to dip his gaze when he can to give you a little privacy. Just enough that you can figure out that your head doesn’t go into one of the arm holes and assists when you starts whining that you can’t get it right. You throw your wedding dress aside and kicks off your heels, letting out a soft huff when Austin disappears into the kitchen.

He comes back with a warm washcloth that smells like lilac soap and he waits until your gaze focuses on him before he asks whether you can do this yourself.

You nod a little absently, taking the washcloth from him and wiping your makeup off before handing it back to him. You pull as many bobbypins as you can find from your hair and toss them onto the coffee table, pulling your strands back up into a bun before collapsing face first into the couch.

You barely feel the couch dip as you smush your face into a pillow, blankets being draped over your shoulders.

When you wake up, you don’t automatically remember where you are.

You lift your head and groan softly, pinching your eyes with your thumb and forefinger trying to get the pounding to stop. There’s a soft blue light casting shadows on the walls of the living room and oh, that’s right, you’re home. Austin brought you home last night.

You swallow and nearly sit up too fast, leaning up on your elbows because oh, oh fuck, now you remember. A wave of nausea crashes down on you for moving and you flutter your eyes closed briefly and hope that helps. When you feels confident enough to fix your gaze on something other than the inside of your eyelids, you turn to look at Austin who’s sitting up in one of the lounge chairs nearby against a few pillows, watching TV.

He didn’t leave. He stayed with you the entire night.

The sound from the TV isn’t loud enough to be heard but you can tell he does this often, eyes on the screen, just absorbing the images that flicker to life. His head dips to look over at you when you move; he looks tired. You really hope he didn’t sit up to just…keep an eye on you, making sure you slept alright.

You clear your throat, the sound scratchy and dry regardless of your trying, “Am I dead?”

Austin smirks a little and stands to come and sit by your legs, handing you a glass of water that’s on the coffee table. “Here. You passed out before I could get you to drink any.”

You sigh softly and close your eyes, moving to sit up further and is glad to see the room isn’t spinning anymore. “Lovely.” You drink deeply after a few tentative sips to make sure you can keep it down.

“You stayed.”

“I did.” Austin’s quiet for a few moments, playing with the corners of one of the blankets. Clearly he’s not going to elaborate. “You got a headache?”

You hum an affirmative response but it’s nothing water and Advil can’t cure. You lean your head back against the headboard, closing your eyes again for a few moments to avoid the blue light spilling into the room from the TV. You give yourself some time to sip your water before you open them again, setting the glass down on the table. There’s cookies there too, from last night. Austin kept them.

You sense embarrassment licking at your nerve endings, feeling a little ridiculous for your behavior. You should really know better than to let yourself go like that, especially since it doesn’t take too many glasses of wine in a row for it to happen.

“Sober?” He asks and there’s a tilt to his voice that you don’t like, far too amused.

You groan and turn your head to look at him, trying to muster up a glare that doesn’t stick. “Unfortunately.” You rake your fingers through your hair, trying to not even think about what you might look like.

You’re just glad you didn’t vomit.

A deep breath settles in and out of your lungs before you turn your head to look at Austin, the light of the TV casting beautiful shadows on his face. Your eyes skitter over the scruff beginning on his jawline and your fingers itch to follow. You clear your throat, getting his attention, and he turns his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry for getting plastered.” You smile a little because he does; that same amusement back on his face, though it doesn’t bother you this time around. “I’m shocked that you do weddings.”

You allow yourself to laugh a little, shaking your head like it’ll somehow clear the fuzzy memories of him bringing you back to your home, tripping over yourself. You regret the way you’ve carried yourself, but a tiny part of you is glad you decided to let yourself go, to enjoy the open bar and let your emotions run a little rampant for once.

You’re so used to keeping everything inside, to holding it all in. For once you didn’t.

Austin’s chewing on words he’s not saying, you can see the hesitance in his expression, wanting to say something but unsure if he should. You wait, don’t press, and eventually,

“Admittedly, I haven’t done a wedding in a while.” He shakes his head, “Because they tend to be messy in a way that I never expect.”

You wince, rubbing the back of your neck because…clearly you hadn’t planned on making a fool out of yourself but Austin quickly continues to explain,

“I don’t mean you.” He turns a bit to lean against the couch, his shoulder pressed along the cushions. Austin licks his lips, his eyes tracing your jawline and lips, slipping down your neck and collarbone enough to make you shiver.

“In your request, you said somethin’ like, ‘I don’t want my ex to feel like he’s taken something from me. Something that’s mine and will always be mine’.”

You search his eyes for a moment and when his finally meet yours, something warm and aching starts in your chest, blooming outward like a flower only meant to grow at night. You swallow thickly, “You remember that?” Because you kinda…bared you soul in that request for a date service. You hadn’t meant to come across so desperate but…you were also just being honest.

“I have a very good memory,” He attempts to wave this off, and you want to tell him not to—that what he’s saying matters. Austin’s seeing you, over walls you didn’t realize you had up after all this time.

“You said kind of implied that you wanted Todd to regret cheating on you, but I think you really meant that you wanted him to see that he didn’t break you.” He licks his lips and trails his pinky finger along your jawline as he curls loose hair behind your ear. “I’ve met a lot of women in similar situations, and not all of them have handled it like you.”

A laugh slips out of your throat, something you can’t stop. You’re trying to break the tension gathering in the room, something heavy and thick like warm cotton settling over both of you. Handled it? You haven’t exactly done that well, have you? If last night is any indication.

“What, they didn’t hire a male escort and get piss drunk?”

He smiles gently, shaking his head. “They let their exes break them because they couldn’t figure out who they were without them.”

The warmth in your chest threatens to burst and you wish for a moment that you could see yourself the way Austin does, so clearly, like everything is laid out before him, all he has to do is read.

“But not you.” It barely leaves his mouth before you close the distance between them.

The heat erupts in a single kiss, both of Austin’s hands tangling themselves in your hair, pulling it loose from your haphazard bun. He kisses you like you’ve always wanted to be kissed, even though you hadn’t realized it was something that was missing until now.

He inches you forward, forcing you to move until you’re straddling his waist, blankets getting caught and tangled in-between. Anything that’s been building up suddenly releases into you both, like a wave crashing, heated breaths against skin and not being able to get close enough. Austin tugs off your long t-shirt and a shiver travels down your skin as you reach up and automatically unclasp your bra.

You sit there for a moment, almost in the wake of realizing what you’ve done, and you watch Austin’s gaze. His eyes drink you in, hands still on your waist, trailing up your sides, thumb slipping underneath one of your breasts to press against your ribcage. The touch is intimate enough to cause something sharp in your throat, thick swallowing for it to disappear. You lean forward, presses your foreheads together and you kiss again.

You’re fumbling to get blankets down, to move everything out of your way and Austin flips your positions, easing you down onto your back along the cushions. He rifles for something in his suit jacket that’s nearby while you slip your hips up to slide your underwear down and off and away. He’s got too many layers on and you itch to immediately remove his shirt when he’s overtop of you again.

Toned skin greets you and you can’t help but touch, sink your fingers in, drag your nails. The noises that leave Austin’s throat are enough to single handedly build the heat beginning in your lower belly, something you don’t think you ever want to stop hearing. He moves only long enough to take his pants off, tossing them to the side, and he holds your gaze—

He waits.

You swallow and know this is such a bad idea, that nothing good can come from this. But wasn’t it Austin who urged you to figure out what you want? You want to feel confident? Wanted? Good enough?

Then it has to come from you first.

There’s a half-nod in Austin’s direction before he’s slipping a hand down between you, to put a condom on but also—

You moan, rolling your hips as you feel his fingers slide against you, inside of you. He teases, rolls flesh between his thumb and forefinger, lips falling to your neck to leave kisses that eventually find your mouth again.

He takes his time even though you wish he wouldn’t, building you up and letting you down easy before pressing inside. You gasp and your back arches, hips rolling forward, Austin leaning down to capture your mouth again, to absorb your sounds. You wrap your legs around him, which makes moving a little difficult, but you don’t want him to move too far away, want to constantly feel him—keep you both connected.

Austin nips at your lower lip with his own, not taking you long to build up what you’ve started. Pleasure circles in your veins, pulling you towards an end that you doesn’t want to reach yet. He doesn’t stop, keeps moving his hips forward at a quickening pace and you dig your nails into his back.

You barely have time to warn him before you’re cumming, though because your bodies are molded together, you think he already knows—probably knew before you did. He grunts as he loses himself in you, his face falling to your neck, gentle panting and lazy kissing.

You tilt your head back so your throat is exposed, your hands slipping down his back and settling on his waist, his skin a little slick to the touch. He lays there for a long few moments and you take one another in, his chest pressing into your own as you both breathe.

He pulls back too soon for your liking, but you don’t have the energy to tell him to stop. Austin cleans himself up, slipping onto the couch again, this time behind you, and pulls you close. You turn on your side, blankets coming up over your shoulder as you puzzle-piece both of you together, your face hiding in his neck, already falling asleep.

Austin says nothing, which is fine with you, he doesn’t need to say anything. His lips find your shoulder, a few kisses here and there, hands intertwining in your hair.

You finally figure out what you want—

and you want this. You want him.

You wake up before Austin does, pulling yourself from the couch and disappearing into the bathroom near the kitchen. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you kinda shake your head before drawing up Jill’s text messages on your phone.

Y/N: I think I messed up.

You wash your face and feel a little more human, sitting down on the closed toilet seat as she pings you back.

Jill: oh no, what happened? Jill: please tell me Austin didn’t turn out to be a serial killer

You laugh, your hand covering your mouth. Jesus. A small, hysterical part of you wonders if that’d be easier to deal with.

Y/N: the wedding went fine, he brought me back home, stayed the night Y/N: may or may not have had sex with him on my couch this morning??

Jill instantly tries to call you and you press the red button—you can’t talk to her when he’s still here.

Y/N: I can’t, he’s still here

Jill: !!!!!! Jill: girl omg— Jill: how was it? 😉

Running a hand over your face, you wonder if you should have ever said anything. Then again, there’s this small smile tugging the corners of your mouth. In general, you know that there’s nothing wrong with what you’ve done—both of you are consenting adults. But then there’s this whole other layer of…paying him to be your date. It’s not like you paid him for sex or anything but…

You kinda can’t help but wonder how many jobs he takes that end up like this.

Y/N: it was perfect but that’s not the point

Jill: so what is the point?

You sigh softly, tapping on your cash app and just…wondering. So many insecurities and questions and wonderings wrapping around you like a blanket, except it’s far too tight, suffocating almost. Taking in a breath, you set your phone down on the counter, looking up when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” Austin asks, “You alright?”

Reaching over to grasp the knob, you open the door with a soft smile, “Yeah.”

Austin looks ridiculously adorable slept on. His hair is slightly askew, skin looking warm, a soft, tired look in his eyes. God, you can’t believe he’s been here for so long in these wedding clothes, back in his slacks and a white undershirt.

“I uh,” He clears his throat, “M’gonna head home. Shower, change. But…”

You lick your lips, your stomach flip-flopping with eagerness.

“I was thinkin’ I could come back later; we could talk?”

God, talking sounds like such a great idea. Not to mention you could shower too, put yourself together, feel more like someone capable of having a serious conversation. So you nod with a soft smile—that sounds perfect.

And then—

You can pinpoint the exact moment that Austin glances to the sink and sees the cash app open because his expression changes, like a shadow passing over but instead of dissipating—it stays, darkening the color of his eyes. A breath catches in your throat as you straighten your shoulders, words on your lips and stuck on your tongue. Nothing comes out.

His gaze flickers up from the phone to your eyes and what you see there is like a cold bucket of ice water, anger but…deeper, it’s—

“Not what it looks like.” You finally say, breaking the tension into pieces with a hammer.

Austin hums, nodding his head and licking his lips. He’s trying very hard to speak without sounding annoyed, “What’s it like then?” He asks, the words daggered. “Cause it looks like you were about to pay me for services rendered.”

You shake your head and stand from the toilet on wobbly knees. Austin takes a step back from you, almost like a caged animal, getting ready to bolt. And then you realize, right, he’s not angry, he’s hurt.

“No—”

“Don’t lie to me,” He grounds out, the words chewed on between his teeth.

A shuddered noise leaves your lips because you can tell you’re losing it, this conversation slipping like sand between your fingers. He’s not going to be willing to listen to you if you confirm he’s right, that you had thought about it—if you admit you weren’t sure what you were doing or what sleeping together meant.

You distantly know that this isn’t going to end well, no matter what you say. Austin tore his walls down in front of you, exposed himself, and now he looks like a fool for doing it. Even if it’s on accident, you’ve hurt him, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to backpedal without looking guilty.

“I thought about it,” You admit after a moment. “I wasn’t…” The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel cheap; you know that this thing started as a transaction but also that something changed last night.

“Nah, it’s good. You were payin’ me to do a job, right?” Austin turns to walk back to the living room, gather up his things. And it’s like…you have no idea what you can possibly say, how you can stop him.

Your legs carry you forward, “Austin, don’t.” You sigh and puts a hand on your lips, suddenly feeling nauseas as he moves too quick for you to stop him.

“Business is business. You can stop feelin’ so guilty,” He straightens his shoulders before grabbing his jacket, slipping it on. Metaphorically it feels like a shield, another layer he’s building back up between them both, shutting you out.

He can’t possibly leave like this, right?

You’re practically stumbling over your own feet as he makes it to the front door, “Please don’t walk away.”

His hand pauses on the doorknob, just for a moment, like he might actually be considering your words. But then he yanks the door open and slams it shut once he’s outside.

You don’t go after him.

Time goes on.

You expect that Austin might reach out to you—to apologize, to start over, or maybe even request the unfulfilled payment that he was supposed to receive after the wedding date. But nothing, it’s radio silent…and you think that’s worse.

You want to reach out to him on your own, but you’re not even sure where to begin. How to apologize for thoughts that are incomplete in your head. How to express emotions that are sitting at the bottom of your ribcage.

You’re just hoping for a chance to apologize and explain yourself, even though you’re not entirely sure you deserve it. Is this really it? Going back to business as usual and pretend they never met one another?

You sigh as you hear a few knocks on your door and hate how it feels like hope, quickly moving from your kitchen to tug it open and see Jill on the other side. You give her a small smile, letting her inside,

“I got your twenty texts, you alright?”

You run a hand over your forehead and shake your head, moving towards the kitchen for Jill to follow. You offer her a cup of coffee, sitting back at the counter with your own. Wrapping your hands around the ceramic, you glance up at your friend,

“I screwed up.”

Jill sighs softly, grabbing a cup for the coffee because clearly, she’s going to need it. “Tell me what happened; your texts were all hysteria and no detail.”

You map out the whole thing from start to finish, the chapel, the reception, the night of, the morning after—your voice drops on intimate details, like somehow you have to keep them exactly that. Intimate.

“Damn, Y/N.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “I know…it was an accident.” You swallow. “The money part, anyways.”

She adds a few spoonfuls of sugar to her mug, stirring. “Does tall, blonde and brooding know that?”

You let your hand fall from your face, eyes focusing out the window above the sink at the city sounds and sights. Suddenly a dark blue gaze rekindles in your memory, the hurt there, wounded and refusing to let you past his boundaries again.

“I tried to tell him; he wouldn’t listen.”

Jill hums under her breath a moment and shuffles, “Maybe give him some time? Try him tomorrow.”

Easier said than done, “I don’t even know where he lives. He’s not going to pick up the phone if I try to call him; texts are useless.”

Your friend’s quiet for a few moments, considering—and then a sound leaves her lips and you picture a lightbulb going off on her facial expression. “But you know where he works.”

You stand outside the café that Austin works at for what feels like a long time, staring at the sign and pacing back and forth to your car parked down the street. You really hope no one is watching you because you probably looks crazy; you feel crazy. You can’t just approach this man where he works, can you? You don’t even know if he’s working today.

But it’s…worth a try, right? Like one last shot before you just drop it.

You’re not sure that if the situations were reversed, he’d show up at your front door, so. Or maybe you’re just hoping he would.

So after spending ten minutes contemplating what to do, you finally force yourself to walk up the café door and make your way inside. It’s a hole in the wall but filled to the brim with people at tiny circular tables, waiting in line to place their order with a beautiful blonde cashier and satisfied customers adding sugar and creamer to their coffees at a station to your left.

The heady scent of fresh coffee and baked goods slam into you like a truck, leaving you almost breathless. This place blends in when it should stick out—she wonders if you didn’t know Austin if you’d come in to order an iced coffee just walking by on the street.

Your eyes graze behind the counter until you finally spot him further down, filling baked goods trays in a window that were once empty. A ton of questions hit you at once; did he make those baked goods that are at his fingertips? How does he separate the time between the café and the stand-in job? What are you going to say to him?

Before you can fully approach him, Austin glances up—and spots you.

He’s not happy to see you but he doesn’t look as pissed off as the last time you saw him, so, you consider that progress. You swallow as you walk towards the counter and your hand settles on the top of the glass, the lights above the pastries warming your palm.

“Hi.” That’s it? That’s all you can say? This conversation is going to be just as painful as the last one.

Austin doesn’t have a chance to open his mouth because another worker, a blonde girl, rushes to the counter because she must be on register, “Hi,” She smiles, bright, “We have orange scones on sale today. What can I get you?”

You smile gently at her, glancing at Austin and wondering if he’s going to step in or just…continue not saying anything to you. You suppose you don’t blame him.

“I’ll uhm, take a hazelnut latte and one of those scones,” You nod, reaching for your wallet in your purse, “Thank you.”

“I got the rest of this, Chloe,” Austin steps in as you stick your card into the reader. “Thanks.” He watches her go before turning his attention back to you, customers passing by and receiving orders that he’s already packed at the end of the counter. He hands over your receipt.

“You stalkin’ me now?” He asks but he’s not amused, drumming his fingers on top of the counter.

You let out a slow breath and he moves to fill your order, working the espresso machine with practiced ease, “You won’t text me back.”

“Maybe that’s cause I didn’t wanna talk to you,” He says pointedly before motioning towards your right, “You skipped the line.”

“I didn’t want to order anything, I just wanted to talk.”

He smirks but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes and he grabs an orange scone, wrapping it in a napkin. “Look at you, really learned how to be honest about what you want.”

“You taught me how.” You insist, trying to catch his gaze. When you finally do, you hold it there, trying to will him to listen to you—because you’re not grasping at straws, meeting him, spending time with him…being with him really taught you about parts of yourself that were missing.

Or maybe not missing, exactly, but lying dormant.

“I just want five minutes of your time, please, then I’ll leave you won’t hear from me again.”

Austin lets out a long patient sigh with a shake of his head, something between aggravation mixed with a touch of being impressed—you’re persistent, at least. He’s going to hear you out and suddenly all the words mix in a blender and sink to the bottom of your ribs; you’re almost unsure of how to put this but all you can do is try.

“You’ve been right since we first met; I didn’t know how to want things for myself even though I expected so much out of other people.”

You chew on your lower lip a moment, eyes tracing over the handsome lines of his face—now was not the time to get distracted.

“This whole thing caught me off guard, I wasn’t prepared to want you…and not just as my stand-in date, but you.”

He doesn’t hold your gaze and maybe that’s okay, he busies himself with getting other people orders, keeping the line moving but you can tell he’s still listening to you. He’s still intent on hearing you through…even though you’re almost certain it’s not going to make a difference.

You can tell by his expression, by those walls remaining firm; they’re not budging for you.

Not again.

“The money thing was a mistake. You were right, I did open up my app and think about it because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what this thing was or if I was…imaging how I felt. So I fucked up but…so did you for not sticking around and talking to me.”

Austin’s shoulders straighten; he doesn’t appreciate you calling him out. A rod appears up his spine, his posture almost towering despite the glass case between them.

“I just…that’s it,” You swallow, your thumb running over the scone in your one hand and picking up your finished latte with another. “That’s all I wanted to say. Sorry for disrupting your work.”

You turn quickly, can’t take the look in his eyes anymore, the bustle of other people around you. You’ve said what you needed to—you should feel more complete than before, right? Because at least he knows your side of things.

It’s his turn.

You push the door open, the welcome bell dinging after you as you leave.

He doesn’t come after you.

You try to shake your head as Jill orders another shot, but can’t quite stop her because the woman has a mind of her own when it comes to having a good time.

“No,” You crinkle your nose.

Jill laughs, “Oh come on—one more. You’re not calling it early already, are you? We can get fries after this.”

You sigh, a bit dramatically, but how can you turn down fries? “Fine.” You shake your head, running a hand over your face as you sit at the counter of your frequent bar, “I’ll be back though.”

You slide off the barstool, motioning she should save your seat as you put your purse on it. She grins, cups your cheeks with her hands and plants a kiss on your forehead. You shoo her off, moving through the crowd to the restroom. Once you’ve used the bathroom and spend a little time with a cold and wet paper towel to the back of your neck, you come back out and nearly run someone over—

And blink because—

“Austin.”

It’s been a few months since you’ve seen him but fuck, he looks just as amazing as he did when you tried to explain yourself in the café. Wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, boots and a white button down, he’s got a leather jacket on as well, just a bit more scruff to his face.

“I was wonderin’ if you were gonna be here.” But it’s…contemplative, thoughtful, like he might have actually planned on trying to find you in the bar where you met.

You feel like the world might be spinning off its axis. “Here I am.”

He smiles a little, glancing over his shoulder and fuck, you wonder if he’s here with someone and—you’re pleasantly surprised that it doesn’t cause some adverse reaction. No punch in your gut that you completely screwed everything up. Time, it seems, does heal some wounds.

Maybe not heal, scar at the very least.

“I saw you post somethin’ on your instastory and I was…well I was hopin’…” He kinda trails off and two thoughts slam into your body like a freight train. One, he sounds…nervous? Which you feel like is very unlike him, given what you’ve been through together. And second? It actually sounds like he knew you were here and he meant to find you on purpose.

“Can we talk?” He asks, “Maybe outside?”

“Yes,” And god, you hope you don’t say that too fast. “Fresh air sounds good.”

As you begin to walk outside with him, you text Jill letting her know where you’re going (and with who). She sends you exactly three text messages in response that you don’t dare look at.

You take in a deep breath in once you get outside, the cool air settling over you like a bucket of cold water. You almost wish you grabbed your jacket from the bar but…dragging Austin over there towards Jill would have been such a bad idea.

It’s fine—the air is refreshing, a bit sobering and this conversation probably won’t last long either way. Taking in a breath, you turn to look at him, a soft smile on your face as you wrap your arms around yourself.

“So…”

Austin clears his throat, “You uh—?” He motions to his jacket and you’re not quite strong enough to deny his offer, so you gently nod your head. Austin slips off his leather jacket and hands it to you and you put it on.

A soft noise of approval leaves your lips as your arms go through the sleeves, a little bit long, feeling perfect though when you zip it up. The lingering scent of his cologne and skin is enough to almost knock you on your knees.

“Thank you.” You whisper, curling your hair around your ear.

You know that Austin is gathering his thoughts, but waiting almost somehow feels worse. You’re just…not sure what to do with yourself other than stare at him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“I shouldn’t have left you like that,” He finally says, “At your place?” It’s like the tension start to unwind from your shoulder at that, you almost have to physically swallow over your words so you can let him speak. “Just…felt like what we did, it was real—and—”

“It was real,” You assure him, can’t allow him to think otherwise, “I know this is going to sound cliché but…opening that cash app had everything to do with me, not you. I wasn’t second-guessing what happened.”

Austin gently waves you off, “It’s not your fault, I—I’m so used to things bein’ a business transaction that I just jumped to conclusions.”

You give him a small smile and it feels good? to be on the same page after all this time but…it’s not like, “It’s okay,” You curl your hair around your ear, “I’m not sure where something like this could go. I wouldn’t ask you to quit a job that’s clearly lucrative.”

Austin nods softly, “Well you don’t have to, because I already have.”

You’re not sure why what he says doesn’t register right away, you’re kinda just staring at him, wrapped up in his leather jacket, people passing you both on the sidewalk as you stand outside this bar.

Then you blink, “What?”

He smirks, running a hand through his hair as he nods, “Yeah, I uh—just didn’t want to do it anymore.”

You feel like your brain might be short circuiting, “But about acting? What about L.A.?”

A soft laugh rumbles in his throat, “I can still do L.A. Bein’ an actor isn’t goin’ anywhere.”

And you know that he still has a café job, that he can find other jobs to satisfy what he wants in terms of collecting money but…somehow you’re worried he’s traded one thing in for another. Even though Austin doesn’t look like he has any regrets as he takes a step towards you. His hands gently rest on your arms, sliding down, like he’s waiting for you to push him away.

When you don’t—

“You're not the only one goin' after what they want.”

You can’t stop a small laugh from slipping from your lips and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press yourself up on your toes and kiss him. His arms wrap around you automatically, drawing you closer, his one hand cupping the back of your neck.

It feels like you’re kissing for a long time, or maybe it’s just felt too long since you’ve kissed. Either way, pulling away makes you feel a bit breathless and Austin smiles, pressing your foreheads together for a moment.

It feels like starting over, or maybe even better, a new chapter.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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redrose10 · 4 months

Text

I hope everyone is enjoying the story. I do appreciate all the feedback! Here is Chapter 8. I feel like this one is going to create more questions than answers. Next chapter in a few days.

This chapter and the next one will touch on some darker subjects so I highlighted the specific trigger warning in red. In the story it’s not really detailed or any thing but I still wanted to make it known just in case.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 3,608

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

You thought about going back in to speak with Yoongi but after what he did and what you said you decided it would be best to have some space for a while. After calming yourself down enough that you could finally breathe you headed over to Jimins. You sat on his couch clutching the photo album to your chest still sniffling every so often.

“Ahh I see he still gave you the gift.”, he said placing a bottle of water down in front of you.

“You knew about this?”, you asked wide eyed.

He took a seat next to you and began rubbing your back. “Yeah he came to me one day and asked if I had a way to contact anyone in your family. He’s been working on it for a couple months. When he finally got the book he was so excited. Seriously it was weird to see him like that. He was also so nervous to give it to you. He kept asking if I thought you’d like it or if you’d be mad or think it was weird that he did this. I don’t think he’s ever done something like this for anyone before.”

“Jimin he lied to me. He promised me he was changing and that he didn’t sleep with anyone and he slept with some woman named Suri last week.”, you said feeling the tears start up again.

“Did you hear his side of the story?”

“Seriously Jimin? He doesn’t exactly have the best history. I don’t have to hear his side of the story to know it happened.”

“Listen I’m not defending him and I can’t guarantee he didn’t do anything with her but I spend a lot of time with him and I’ve seen a big change in his ways. The way he thinks, the way he talks, the way he acts. I mean I caught the man watching a YouTube video on how to make homemade chocolate chip muffins. I just don’t think that he would do that to you any mo-.”

Before he could finish you stormed off to the spare room. The last thing you needed or wanted right now was for your best friend to try defending the man that intentionally hurt you.

The next morning you did apologize to Jimin for storming away like that. He was letting you live with him after all and you know he’s stuck in the middle between his two best friends so it puts him in a bad spot. Thankfully he was really understanding and didn’t take it to heart.

The weekend passed and Yoongi hadn’t tried to contact you once. Jimin took a couple days off from work the following week claiming to be sick but you figured Yoongi knew exactly why he did that. When Jimin did finally go to work and came home you asked if Yoongi had said anything.

“No he didn’t say anything at all. He’s acting completely normal.”, he said shaking his head.

“So he really didn’t mention anything about me or us or what happened?”

“He just asked if you were staying with me and I said yes. That was it.”

You could feel the tears start to well up again.

“Jimin, if he really did change and didn’t sleep with that woman and he loved me like he said he did, don’t you think he’d be fighting for me right now or doing anything to show me he didn’t do it?”

“Y/N, I think hes already accepted that he lost you and at this point he is just trying to get by. He’s never been the kind of person to chase after someone.” Jimin walked over and wrapped his arms around you.

You sniffled, “Jimin, the worst part of all is that I really started to believed him. I really thought he loved me and I loved him too.”

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know you don’t want to hear this but maybe you could try reaching out to him because I doubt he’ll ever come crawling back to you. But you guys do have to discuss this some time. You can’t just pretend nothing happened between the two of you.”

“I know. I’ll think about it. Thank you Jimin.”

Later that evening he knocked on your door carrying in a bowl of ramen. After you took a few bites he started to speak.

“So I hate to do this to you Y/N but I’ve just been informed that I have to go out of the country for a while. Maybe a couple weeks. Maybe a little longer. Depends on how it goes. I’m really sorry that I have to leave you like this.”

You shook your head, “No it’s okay. I understand. You have a job to do. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

“You are welcome to stay here as long as you need and I always have my phone on me.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He gave you another hug before leaving you to finish off the rest of your dinner alone.

Jimin left the following morning and with him being gone now you were left to continue trying to heal alone. You saw the photo album sitting on the dresser and realized you never properly thanked Yoongi for the book. Even though things ended badly he could’ve kept the book and never told you he had it and threw it into a fire or something instead but he had the decency to give it to you. Maybe a tiny part of you also hoped it would force him to say something to you and the two of you could talk.

Throwing on some clothes you called for a car and traveled over to his office building. The receptionist greeted you with a smile, “Hello Mrs. Min. It’s been a while.”

“Yes it truly has. I hope you’re doing well.”She nodded and reached for the intercom, “Mr. Min you have a visitor.”A few moments later there was a beep, “Who is it Areum?”

You gave her a look that you hoped translated to please lie and don’t tell him it’s me or he’ll never let me in. Thankfully it seems she got the message as she reached for the intercom again, “One of your partners.” Not completely a lie on her part.

“Send them in.”

You nodded a thanks and walked down the hall to the large oak double doors. The room was surprisingly warm and inviting. Yoongi was sitting behind his desk reading over some paper work when you cleared your throat. He looked up at you before returning back to the papers.

“What do you want Y/N?”

Suddenly you felt nervous and you were starting to regret even going there.

“Umm I just wanted to come and thank you in person for the photo album. I do really appreciate it. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else?” He didn’t even look at you.

You got a sudden rush of confidence and decided to just go for it since it was clear he wasn’t going to bring it up.

“I just thought maybe we could talk about everything that happened?”

Yoongi scoffed, “So now you want to talk about things? Now you want to hear what I have to say?”

“Yoongi you have to understand and see it from my perspective. I was furious and hurt. At the time I didn’t think there would be any possible explanation that you could give me but I’ve had some time to think and I would like to hear your side of the story and then decide. Maybe we could figure out how to move forward together.”

He stood up and walked over to stand in front of you, so close you could smell his cologne. The familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla making your stomach churn.

“I did understand Y/N. I knew it looked bad and how much that message hurt you. My heart broke just at the thought of you having to see that. That’s why I begged and pleaded with you to stay and give me a chance to explain.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi. I was hurt and scared and angry, but I want us to discuss this now.”

“Why does is matter any more Y/N? You said your peace the other day. If you’re always going to just assume the worst of me no matter what I do then what’s the point? Why should I even try to be better? You said it yourself, I’m unlovable. I’m not going to force you to into the miserable life that I’ve created for myself. We’ll go to public events together and pretend to be a happy loving husband and wife and then we’ll go our separate ways until we’re forced to meet again. Maybe you’ll meet someone who will love you like you deserve behind closed doors instead of just for show.”

Before you could speak he reached for the intercom, “Areum please come see Y/N out.”

A few seconds later she opened up the door smiling and gesturing for you to exit. Yoongi leaned up against the front of his desk with his arms crossed. The unreadable expression on his face made you want to cry.

“Oh Y/N before I forget.”

You spun around so fast you were dizzy.

“There’s a charity event happening next Saturday. We’re expected to attend together. A car will pick you up.”

He turned and walked back to his chair taking a seat without sparing you another look.

You quietly followed his secretary feeling the familiar burning sensation in your eyes as tears began to form.

Areum gave you a small smile before again gesturing towards the elevator doors.

“Can I get you a coffee or a bottle of water for the road Mrs. Min?”

Shaking your head you gave a small smile and headed towards the elevator. Once inside with the metal doors blocking you from view you finally let go of the tears you’d been holding in. You’ve never had someone in your life that could make you feel the way he did. One day you hate his existence and the next you’re pinning for him in ways you never thought you would.

You and Yoongi didn’t speak the rest of the week other than the one text you got telling you the details of the event.

When Saturday came around you couldn’t have been less excited if you tried. The thought of being around Yoongi while he ignored you made you want to cry so you weren’t sure how you were going to get through the night with him.

You walked down through the lobby to the waiting car. The driver greeted you before opening the door and helping you in. You stumbled a little when you saw Yoongi sitting in the seat next to you. You fully expected him to arrive separately but there he was.

The ride to the event was silent. Several times you attempted to bring yourself to speak but the words would never come out. The car finally pulled up to the Seoul Museum of Art where the event was being held and you were relieved to be able to get out of the suffocating car.

Once outside the vehicle the familiar feeling of dread hit when you saw all the cameras and droves of people. You jumped a little when Yoongi placed a hand on your lower back. He didn’t say anything but started guiding you up the stairs to enter the building. It was hard to decipher if he was doing this out of genuine concern for you knowing how uneasy the attention made you feel or just as a show for the photographers which made you want to cry even more. Once inside you expected him to run off but he stayed by your side although not speaking to you except to ask if you’d like a drink.

His father came up to you giving you a kiss on the cheek, “I just have to borrow your husband for a little bit. Don’t worry. I’ll return him in one piece.” You smiled and watched as the two walked off and you were left standing alone. You really wished Jimin was there with you but unfortunately he was still away on business so you stood off to the side trying to go unnoticed.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw a man eyeing you. You didn’t recognize him at all and the way he looked at you made you uncomfortable. You were scanning the room hoping to get a sighting of Yoongi or anyone that you knew when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hi Y/N, how have you been?”

“Oh my god, hi Namjoon! Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“Well this is one of my favorite events of the year.”

You laughed, “Fair enough. How’s the new job going?”

“It’s not bad. I like the work. Just wish I didn’t have to move so far out of the city. You still taking lessons?”

“Yeah here and there. My new teacher isn’t as good though.”

He chuckled, “Well I was one of the best if I do say so myself.”

Playfully you rolled your eyes, “Always so humble Namjoon.”

“Come on Y/N. Let’s go get a drink.”

Noticing the strange man still staring at you from across the room you quickly agreed to follow Namjoon.

A bell rang through the venue signaling the auction was about to begin. Various pieces of art were set to be auctioned off with the proceeds being split between the museum and the local children’s hospital. Even though you wished to stay with Namjoon you knew it would be best for show to sit with your husband. Luckily you were able to easily find him sitting next to his parents. When you walked over you gave a small smile and he removed his suit coat from the seat he was saving for you. A small gesture that made your heart swell.

You happened to look a few rows behind you and you gasped. The same man from earlier was sitting right there staring at you once again. You told yourself it was all a coincidence but something still felt off. Yoongi gave you a questioning look but you ignored it and sat down instead, secretly happy to have him by your side.

The auction was interesting to say the least. You’d never been to one before and you’d be okay if you never went again. You watched as rich people spent a disgusting amount of money on various works of art just because they could. At least it was going to a good cause you thought.

“If there’s anything you want just go ahead and bid. I’m sure Yoongi here won’t mind.”, your mother in law said leaning over her son to get your attention.

“I’ll keep an eye out.”, you said politely knowing that Yoongi would definitely mind.

Through the night nothing really caught your eye anyways. There were a few beautiful pieces here and there but nothing you’d be willing spend that kind of money on. Then the auctioneer announced a one of a kind piece by a young up and coming artist named Hyunjin. You’d seen his work before as most of it included various flowers and this was no exception. A gorgeous water color painting of a large bouquet of blue hydrangeas with just a touch of sparkle when it caught the light just right. Instantly you knew you were going to try and get this one. Before you could even bid though the price shot up to 12 billion KRW. Your mouth dropped open. Even though it was technically Yoongi’s money you couldn’t bring yourself to spend that much on a painting. It did look beautiful though. You hoped that whomever purchased it would treasure it as much as you would.

“Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the fifth row.”, you heard the auctioneer announce.

Feeling movement next to you is when you noticed Yoongi stand and walk down to the front to grab the ticket that he would use to claim the beautiful painting. When he walked back over he handed you the ticket and took his seat next to you without saying a word. You looked down at the ticket and smiled. He had bought the painting for you.

It was amazing how long these events lasted. You felt liked you’d been there for hours and you still had to get through dinner. Yoongi had excused himself and went to sit over at another table where he began talking about numbers and things. You noticed the same man from earlier sitting a few tables over with his eyes still on you as he sipped from a glass of whiskey. Feeling uncomfortable and suffocated you grabbed your clutch deciding you needed some fresh air so you exited through the front door. The cool air felt great. It felt refreshing. You were standing off to the side watching the various people move about when you felt a presence next to you. Peeking over to your right your heart skipped a beat. That same man from earlier was now standing right next to you. “How are you Y/N? I know that you’ve been noticing me all night. Why didn’t you come say hello?”, he asked. His voice nasally making your skin crawl like you just heard nails on a chalk board.

“You’re very beautiful Y/N. Yoongi is a very lucky man.”, he continued. Looking around for an escape you realized that you’d have to walk right past him to get back to the front entrance that you came out of which seemed like a bad choice being that he could easily grab you that way. Instead you decided to try walking around the building because surely there had to be another entrance a long the way. As you made your way around and you got further away from the hustle and bustle of the front entrance, things got quieter. You heard your heels on the cement but you could also hear footsteps behind you. Looking back you confirmed your fears. The walk to the back of the building was significantly longer than you had anticipated and you were really regretting your choice of shoes. You did your best to power walk without breaking an ankle.

Feeling more and more nervous you began reaching into your clutch to find your phone. You were going to call Yoongi or Namjoon or even your in-laws. Anyone to help. The man saw that as a distraction on your part and an excuse to quicken his step running up next to you just before you could turn the corner. He grabbed your arm quickly pinning you up against the cold brick of the building.

He was much larger than you. His cologne was strong and not pleasant, kind of like a wet dog ran threw a perfume factory. He saw you still scrolling through your phone so he grabbed it tossing the device on the ground. “Come on Y/N, we’re not going to do that now.”

“Seriously who are you and how do you know so much about me?”, you asked.

“That’s not important right this moment. What is important is that you let me get what I want without a fight?”

You scoffed, “Someone will come looking for me. They probably already are.”

The man laughed, “You mean Yoongi? Do you really think he cares about you? If he did then he wouldn’t have been cheating on you most of your marriage. He wouldn’t have been hooking up with Suri a week before your anniversary and lying to you about it. He’s probably got one of the waitresses bent over in a bathroom stall right now as we speak. He doesn’t care about you Y/N. Never has and never will.”

You could feel tears begin to form. The man placed his hands on your hips leaning in like he was going for a kiss. Quickly you turned your face away from him. He pulled you a little closer.

“Maybe that Namjoon might care about you from what I’ve heard but I’m sure he knows better than to cross that boundary.”

You continue to try and wiggle free but he had a hard grip on you.

“Please just stop. Let me go.”

“I don’t think so sweetheart. I’ve wanted this for a long time and the fact that you are Yoongi’s is going to make this that much sweeter.”

The man kissed your cheek then your neck. You tried to push him away but he had moved his hands to grip your wrists.

You had your eyes screwed shut so you didn’t even see or feel anyone else come up to the two of you but you heard a loud deep voice speak which startled you,

“Get the fuck away from her.”

“Yeah or what?”

No words were spoken after that but you flinched when the man suddenly fell to the ground after taking a hard punch to the side of his face. You looked down at the unconscious man before turning your attention over to the person that threw the punch.

You stared at him your mouth open in shock, “What are you doing here?”

#bts #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi x y/n #bts fanfic #cinnamon&vanilla #arranged marriage au #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts x reader #yoongi au #bts yoongi #yoongi

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auras-moonstone · 10 months

Note

i’m so happy to hear you’re taking jack requests!! there’s a serious drought of them on tumblr 😭

could we get jack x fem!reader with him sleeping over at her place for the first time (or vice versa)? nothing smutty ofc (only if you want to but i see this concept as more fluffy than anything lol). i just think he’d be so cute and shy and awkward 😭 like turning away so she can change, not knowing wether to sleep on the bed or the floor, doing skincare together, cuddling-

i need this man as my bf rn

thank u!!

hi!! this concept is so cute, thank you for requesting it! hope you enjoy it <3 and yeah, i need this man to be my bf too. he’s the definition of boyfriend material.

is it too soon? — jack champion

words: 1,380

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n invites jack to her house for dinner and a sleepover. when sleeping time comes, the nerves take over his body.

Y/N AND JACK HAVE BEEN DATING FOR ALMOST THREE MONTHS. They met on the set of Scream 6, when Y/N was visiting her best friend, Devyn, and Jack is never going to forget the first words she said to him.

“Oh my god! You are the bicycle boy from Endgame” she had smiled at him, and Jack knew he was a goner. They had exchanged instagrams, and talked almost every single day—Devyn even joked about how Y/N texted him more than she texted her. They went on their first date almost a two weeks after they met, and it was on their third date—two weeks after the first one—when Y/N asked him to be her boyfriend.

Due to his long hours of filming and her being busy with college essays and exams, they couldn’t manage to spend so much time alone—only going on short dates every now and then, and lots of facetiming between shooting and study breaks. But now that the movie was done, they wanted to spend every moment together. For this occasion, Y/N had invited him over to her house for dinner and a sleep over.

They had just finished doing the dishes, he had her against the counter, hugging her tightly and placing sweet kisses on her lips, when an idea came to her mind “Wanna do skin care with me?” she asked giving him those puppy eyes he adored, and how could he say no? So he let her guide him to the bathroom.

“So, what do I have to do?” he asked eying all the products on the counter.

She grabbed two pink plush headbands with big bows in the middle and handed one to him. “Put this on, so your hair doesn’t touch the products” she instructed. He nodded and put it on, making her smile at the sight “You are the most adorable human I’ve ever seen”.

He blushed and kissed her cheek as she also put the headband on “Pretty girl”.

“Thank you, babe. Have you ever done skin care?”

“Nope”

“Really? Not even moisturiser or cleanser?” she asked shocked.

“Babe, I don’t know what you are saying” he laughed.

“I’m sorry, that’s unfair! I take care of my skin and it’s nowhere near as good as yours… and you don’t do skin care!” Y/N’s hands moves frenetically as she ranted on.

He looked at her with a lovey smile before leaning down to kiss her “Your skin is perfect and so are you”.

“Mmh stop distracting me” she said in between kisses. “Okay, less romance, more skin care”.

“It’s cold!” Jack said loudly as she applied serum on his face.

“Don’t be dramatic” she laughed. “Now spread it all over your face carefully”.

“This is relaxing” he said closing his eyes. “but you do this every day?”.

“Yup” she answered “Now the last part: the exfoliant!”.

“Holy shit my skin feels so soft” Jack said once they finished the routine.

“Let me check” she said before pressing kisses all over his face “Yeah, very soft”.

“Let me check yours in return” he said with a smirk, repeating the same action she did, making her giggle.

“This was fun, but I’m exhausted. Let’s go to sleep” she took his hand and guided him upstairs.

It was when he set foot on her bedroom that the nerves kicked in. He had been at her house, of course, but never slept over. Y/N had classes in the morning, and he had to go to the set, so they preferred to sleep in their own houses.

He stood there, looking at the bed. Was he supposed to sleep there or should he sleep on the floor? Should he ask her? Would she think he was crossing the line by even thinking they were to sleep on the same bed?

“Jack? Are you okay?” she asked, she had a pair of joggers in her hands.

“Y-yeah” he showed her his best smile.

“Okay… here you go. You lent me this a couple of days ago”

“Thanks” he grabbed them awkwardly.

“I have to change into my pjs, do you mind if I change here?” Y/N asked. She had a bathroom, but honestly she felt too lazy to go downstairs.

“H-here?” Jack asked, his cheeks painted a crimson red.

Y/N mentally cursed herself “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I can go downstairs, it’s okay”.

“No, no! I’ll just turn around and you tell me when you’re done” he answered. “I’ll change into my joggers” She nodded, and he turned to face the door as they both changed “Done”.

After a few seconds her voice was heard “Me too” he turned around to face her, and his thoughts went to the bed and where he was going to sleep.

“Do you have some extra blankets or a sleeping bag?” he asked.

Y/N furrowed her brows, and then her face fell. Were they going too fast? Y/N never thought sleeping over would be such a big deal, but guess she was wrong. Was he uncomfortable around her? Did he think she was implying they should do more than sleeping? Because maybe he read the whole thing wrong and that’s why he was acting weird. “Yeah, in my closet”.

Jack felt bad, he noticed instantly because of her expression that he had hurt her a bit. So, before she could enter the closet, he grabbed her hand softly “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you”.

“It’s okay, Jack. I’m overreacting, it’s totally fine if you don’t want to sleep in the same bed yet. I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t saying that we should do more than sleeping. Sorry if I made it seem like that, you know, with the whole changing in front of you and the sleeping on the same bed thing”.

“What? No! That’s not what you made me think at all. Of course I don’t mind sleeping next to you. It’s just… you are my first girlfriend and I lo-“ he stopped himself. Did he almost let the l-word slip? “and I started overthinking, that maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable with me sleeping on your bed, that I was overstepping and I don’t want to ruin anything, especially with you”.

Y/N sighed in relief “Okay. That’s a relief. You are my first boyfriend too, so don’t feel bad for overthinking. I do that a lot too, to be completely honest”.

Jack smiled at her, and put his arms around the back of her neck, making her look up at him with those long eyelashes and hypnotising eyes he loved so much “Now that everything is solved, let’s go to sleep”.

The couple got inside the bed, he quickly pulled her to his chest. Y/N closed her eyes and relaxed, between his heartbeats resonating in her ears and the warmth that his body provided, she almost fell asleep. Until she remembered. She had noticed when he almost said the word, and how quickly he corrected himself. She was not going to let that sign pass, so she took the matters into her own hands.

“Jack?” she said against his chest, checking if he was sleeping.

“Yes, babe?” he asked in a delicate voice.

“I want to tell you something” she said looking up. He nodded, signalling her to continue “I… maybe it’s too soon to say it, but every moment I spend with you just fuels the feeling more and more, to the point that I can barely stop myself from saying it. It’s okay if you aren’t ready yet, but I want you to know that I love you, Jack”.

Silence embraced the room. It took Jack a few, way too long, seconds to realize it wasn’t some trick made by his imagination. The girl he loved just told him she loved him too. And he was just staring at her, but she wasn’t panicking. That’s because she recognized the glint in his eyes—Y/N understood he wasn’t shocked in a bad way, in fact, it was quite the opposite. It was at that moment that she knew he was in love too.

“I love you too, Y/N/N” he finally said. His face reflected nothing but happiness. And their confession was sealed with a passionate kiss that showcased everything they once were too scared to say.

#jack champion #jack champion x y/n #jack champion fluff #jack champion imagine #jack champion oneshot #jack champion x reader #ethan landry #scream iv #scream #fluff #fanfic

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webslingingslasher · 4 months

Note

‘who knows. he might even let me call him boyfriend.’…….trouble ate him up once again i’m sorry like this is so deserved 🤣 i hope you continue this on the actual fic or just more drabbles please. thank you bestie 🫶🏽

you do your best to ignore him, but he slid infront of you at the picnic tables and stared at you until you couldn't bare the unwavering attention anymore.

'what, peter?' the sooner you aknowlege him, the sooner he goes away.

'i miss you.' it's not the first time he's said it, but he said it with such sincerity you look up at him. 'i know i really fucked it up and you don't owe anything to me, but, is it over? like, really over?'

you don't understand the question, you've been broken up for weeks. doesn't that show how over it really is?

'if you want this guy, if you really want to move on and forget me, i need to know. because if there is even a fraction of you, that'd be willing to give me another chance, i won't stop fighting for you.'

your eyebrow quirks, 'are you telling me who i can and can't hang out with?' peter shakes his head, 'never. i just won't move on until you tell me i have to.'

the idea makes you queasy, picturing him with another girl makes you want to vomit all over the table. a shred of sympathy sparks, is that how he feels? like a thousand daggers cutting into him? you can't handle it, rushing to pack up your things, you ignore his question.

'trouble?' you shake your head, you need to leave, you feel an urge to cry. tears kiss the corners of your eyes, you can't be around him a second longer. 'okay, um, see you...' peter's talking to your back. '... later.'

———

for the first time, in three weeks, you showed up at his frat party alone. after you ran off on him a few days ago, peter assumed he had his answer. but, maybe he should just double check. just in case.

'where's your boy?' for a second, peter wonders if you're about to kiss him. you have such a focus on his face he thinks he’s feeling bashful. ‘i kicked him to the curb.’

peter felt every muscle in him relax, he didn’t realize how tense he was before. he sets his beer down and prays it means what he thinks. ‘why? what’d he do?’

‘nothing. it’s just that the thought of you with another girl made me feel like eating glass. i imagined that’s how you felt. take that as you will.’

a smile spreads, it means what he thinks.

‘so, i have a chance?’

you steal his beer, he doesn’t mind one bit. ‘take that as you will.’

‘so, i can full force, throw myself at you? and you won’t get annoyed?’

‘if that’s what you want to do.’

peter bravely pulls at your hip, it’s the first real touch since you called it off. ‘i want to. i’ve done nothing but want to. i just don’t want to make you uncomfortable if you already have your mind made up on something else.’

‘things have changed, peter. it can’t go back to how it was.’

it’s everything he ever wanted to hear, a second chance, the hope to fix it. and all he had to do was question if he should move on.

‘oh, no. i wouldn’t want it to, trouble. i’m gonna court the shit outta you.’

you won’t admit it, but you’re gonna love watching him try.

#frat!peter drabbles

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writerslittlelibrary · 3 months

Text

I'll always be your safe space, drabble

masterlist

summary: when you come home overwhelmed from a long day of school, all you want is to feel safe and unwind. Lucky for you, your mom and dad are home to comfort you with whatever you need

pairing: Natasha x autistic daughter reader, Bucky x autistic daughter reader

warnings: none I think?

genre: fluff

words: 858

a/n: hello lovelies, this fic is based on how I experience my autism. please keep in my mind that while maybe your autism might not act this way, that doesn’t make it a wrong representation 🫶

(I was diagnosed by a therapist, please don’t hate on me. I’ve never posted about my autism before because I’ve been afraid of wrong accusations)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Everything had gone wrong today. You woke up with your pyjama pants twisted around your legs and your socks were half off. On top of that, you missed your first alarms, and so you had to wait till 7.30 to get out of bed, instead of 7.15.

Your days had started off terrible, and it was only getting worse. When you went to get dressed, you discovered the outfit you had planned in your head, was in the wash, and so you had to settle for a different one.

You ran out of your favourite breakfast yesterday, and Bucky had forgotten to buy it, so you had to settle with a bowl of simple cereal instead.

When you had gotten to school it seemed like everyone had it out for you.

The classes were too loud, and the teachers were annoying. Everytime you zoned out, or decided to doodle a bit to calm down, the teachers called you out and told you to pay attention.

Once you got to maths, the teacher had actually given you detention for doodling instead of listening to her lesson. You tried to explain that by doodling you could focus on what she was saying better, but she wouldn’t hear it.

Therefore, after the school day, which had already left you insanely overstimulated, you still had to sit through an hour of detention.

After you were finally done, you realised there were no busses driving at this time, so you had to call your mom to come pick you up. Of course, Natasha was happy to do so, and when she opened the door for you, she immediately sensed your mood.

She didn’t try to talk to you in the car, rather just handed you your headphones and allowed you to go in your own little bubble.

Once you got home, Natasha had opened your door, letting you out of the car, being careful not to touch you. After you two had gotten up to the apartment, she opened the door for you, allowing you to walk in first.

Bucky was at the kitchen island getting some work done, yet when you walked in he immediately shut his laptop.

He greeted you with a smile but you didn’t acknowledge him.

Instead, you kicked your shoes off, heading for the couch and letting yourself fall onto it. Natasha gave Bucky a glance, letting him know what was going on. Of course, he understood immediately, getting up and preparing you a cup of hot chocolate, that, according to you, only he could make properly so that it wouldn’t be too sweet or too watery.

Natasha took it upon herself to grab your favourite blanket and made sure to grab your some inside clothing, walking to the couch and letting you get changed.

You had specific inside and outside clothing, and after wearing your clothing outside, it was impossible for you to sit on any furniture in your room with your outside clothing still on.

After you had gotten changed, Natasha helped you get comfortable on the couch, finally starting to speak.

“Would you like to watch something, cuddle, or be alone for a moment?” Natasha asked you gently, wiping some stray hairs from your face. You shrugged, not being sure of anything at the moment.

After a minute or two Bucky walked into the living room, three mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. He had made sure to use your hot chocolate mug, which was different from you cold chocolate milk mug, and he made sure to use the proper spoon.

He handed you the mug, and you smiled slightly, leaning forward to give him a kiss on his cheek.

He knew you weren’t up for speaking right now, and he didn’t dare think about pushing you. He always valued the physical affection you used to express your gratitude.

You sat up on the couch, your favourite blanket draped over you, comfortably weighing you down.

It was then that you decided you wanted to watch your comfort show, but you didn’t feel like talking, yet you didn’t know how else to express yourself. You though for a moment before turning to Natasha, looking at her with pleading eyes.

“Do you need something my love?” she asked, softly stroking your hair.

You nodded and motioned at the tv. Whether it was the fact that they were both highly trained assassins, or the fact that they were your parents, both of them immediately knew what you meant, and they didn’t hesitate to turn your comfort show on.

They waited for you to initiate the cuddling session, and they allowed you to snuggle into them when you were ready.

You put your now empty mug down and leaned your head over to Bucky, snuggling into his warm, strong arms and letting yourself feel safe in his embrace. You laid your legs over Natasha’s legs, and she smiled as she say you and Bucky being so close.

She might not ever admit it, but there was nothing in the world that would ever make her more happy than seeing her child snuggled up with her dad.

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey @lorsstar1st

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multifariousqueer · 10 months

Text

Miles cheating fic pt.2

Request: Ok here’s my request and it’s not smut so don’t worry lol.

What if like Yn tried sneaking into Mike’s room with some good news or smth and she catches him doing the deed with another girl so she decides to leave and then he’s blowing up her phone but she cuts him off. Idk just angst angst and more angst lol

A/n: AHHHH ENJOY Y’ALL. I wanted to make this story a bit different so lmk if you like it❤️

Warnings: cheating, toxicity, mentions of alcohol and knives, Miles being annoying, lmk if I missed one

“no” you said simply, running to the kitchen to grab a knife to get Thomas down and to defend yourself against Miles

“Listen, I’m so sorry and I know that doesn’t change anything” he started

“no it doesn’t. Listen, I’m giving you three minutes to get the hell out of my home. What is wrong with you, seriously? Have you been stalking me?” you asked rhetorically because you knew Miles had been

Miles would stalk you all the time, mostly for safety and to make sure you were happy but ever since the breakup, he had been stalking you to see where you would be and to see when he could quietly slip into your life again. When he realized you were 1000% done with him and had a new boyfriend, he realized it was now or never and he was already out on patrol. You had been packing stuff up and getting ready to leave and Miles would quietly watch you through your window and sometimes, when you weren’t home, he would come into your apartment and walk around taking in the very essence of you that he missed so dearly.

You had consumed Miles’ thoughts and dreams and he knew he couldn’t just let you leave without saying goodbye, right? Even though he got into your dream school and had every intention of going so he could stalk you more and make sure you were still safe(and available).

“Hermosa, I love you way more than this guy and I mean, he couldn’t even fight back so what does that tell you about him?” Miles chuckled dryly

“I DON’T CARE! GET OUT BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE” you shouted, waving your knife at Miles as he walked over to you

“Call them, I’d love to say hi to my dad. And stalking is a bit of a stretch, more like watching you from afar” he said

“that’s stalking cabròn”you said

“I never thought you’d call me that. I gotta say, it hurts” he said, putting a hand on his chest

“What do you want?” you asked, already knowing

“you, mami. I miss you so much and I haven’t been the same since you” Miles confessed

“Where’s your blanca? I thought you were happier with her” you said, tears in your eyes and Miles was hovering above your face

“She wasn’t you and she’ll never be you, y/n. I love you and only you and if I could go back in time and fix it, I would in a heartbeat.” he said

“hm. Well I’ve moved on and I have a boyfriend and I got into (your dream school) so I guess we won’t see each other anyways” you said

“Oh wow! This is a wonderful time to mention that I got in there too!” he smiled brightly, disregarding the boyfriend thing

You wanted to sob right there. Miles was a bit of a better student than you and he could get into your dream school without even trying and that’s what pissed you off. You had to struggle while Miles got off Scott free and still got to be Spider-Man. On top of that, the feeling that you would never get rid of Miles, no matter how much you tried ate away at you in that moment.

“You’re lying” you said, knowing it was true

Miles pulled out the letter and smirked at you

“see you there mami. And as for your cabron, that isn’t going away for another 6 hours, that’s your formula” Miles said, walking past you to your window

You had designed some web fluid for Miles and you weren’t shocked he was still using it, I mean you are a fantastic engineer when it comes to Spider-Man stuff.

You walked over to Thomas and he made a joke:

“I should’ve just went home” you both chuckled

You had hugged your parents goodbye as they left you alone in your dorm. You had dreamed of this moment since you were eleven and now that it was happening, it brought tears to your eyes. You met your roommate and went to greet some of your classmates.

When Monday came, you sat next to a cool girl and made conversation:

“I love your bag, Marc Jacobs?” you asked

“yeah, your shoes are so cute.” she said

“Thanks. I’m Y/n” you said, holding out your hand

“I’m Mia” she said shaking your hand

You two spoke a bit more before someone interrupted your conversation:

“Is this seat taken?” you immediately recognized the voice and placed it as Miles’

“oh no!” Mia spoke

He put his books down and gave you a smug look. You scoffed and class had started.

The class was relatively easy since it was one most people were required to take, its just nothing was ever easy when Miles was there. He kept proposing study dates or just hangouts and you always declined but he asked in front of your new friends this time so you couldn’t just say no without them thinking something was wrong. So, you accepted and offered for your other friends to come which they happily accepted. Miles let out a bit of a sigh and gave you an expressionless look but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled

Eventually, he became apart of your group because he was nerdy and cute so people really liked him. He kept trying to get you alone with you to talk but you never allowed it, instead you surrounded yourself with people and made sure to lock your windows. Whenever your roommate questioned it, you would say:

“I don’t want any spiders to get in”

She would always agree and y’all would go back to doing what you were previously doing

Y’all got invited to a party and you all met up at your dorm. Most of y’all crowding around your sink and doing your makeup while the guys sat on your bed and read some of your books and looked at their phones.

When you emerged from the bathroom in your dress and makeup, Miles gave you a slacked jawed look and his eyes lit up. You walked over to him in your heels and closed his mouth for him before walking out the door

The rest of the girls got ready and y’all left your dorm and took some alcohol with incase it wasn’t good at the party

All eyes appeared on you when you walked in, your girls leading you to the dancefloor where they danced on you and you danced back. You felt a sense of Euphoria and ecstasy as you swayed to the music with a red solo cup in your hand as you smiled. Most of your group split up and it was just you and Mia dancing together. You went to fill your cup when you saw Miles already there

“hey, y/n” he said

“oh hey” you smiled, being friendly and a bit jaded

“you enjoying this?” giving you a “really?” look

“mmm yeah. Well I gotta go, I hear my song” you said, rushing back to the dance floor and twerking on your friend

Miles had a bit of a somber expression until a girl started talking to him and asked him to dance with her. At first, he was gonna reject but he saw how happy you were and he decided to try to make you jealous.

She twerked on Miles and he didn’t know what to do at first until he got in his groove. He still watched you intently until the girl came up and grabbed him before turning around and trying to kiss him. She kissed him and he reciprocated, pretending it was you.

You saw this from across the room and you decided to have some fun. You walked over to them and whispered in the girl’s ear:

“careful, he might cheat on you”

Miles decided he had enough and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you outside, you remembered how strong he was and you knew this was gonna leave a bruise

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he asked

“just tryna make sure she dodges a bullet” you smirked, almost laughing

“Are you drunk?” he asked

“no, im just done with your shit” you said before trying to walk away but he cursed at you

“Ven aqui, mami”

“I’m not your mami, i’m not your hermosa, i’m not yours, miles.” you said, sternly

“Haven’t I apologized enough? Can we just kiss or fuck and make up? I’m sorry, I still love you and I’m willing to do anything to fix us” he pleaded, sensing your sudden sobriety

“There is no more us Miles. I told you from jump that cheating was the one thing I couldn’t forgive. Let me go before someone sees us.” you said

He let you go as you strutted back in the party and went back to dancing, knowing you weren’t going back.

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles x reader #miles Morales headcannons #miles morales fanfiction #spiderman #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse fanart #spider man atsv #atsv #yandere miles morales #into the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse #for you

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literaila · 2 years

Text

ten minute walk

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“i’m going to punch you in the spleen.”

“you don’t even know where my spleen is.”

“only one way to find out.”

warnings: my dearest fluff

a/n: i’ve just become aware of how much my characters argue. i’ve no excuse except for arguings fun.

"it's okay, peter." you smile at him, feeling something inside your chest yearning to escape. "really."

he raises a brow at you, questioning your sanity. "you think that's going to change my mind? 'it's okay?'"

you frown. "i'll be fine."

"well, i won't."

and he grabs your hand--without asking because this is normal now--pulling you with him as he begins to walk. he could be leading you anywhere. taking you down any path--foreign and unknown and completely fine as long as you're with peter.

as long as he takes you with him, you're willing to go. as long as he keeps holding your hand.

and even though you already know, you don't ask anyway. it doesn't much matter.

"it's a ten-minute walk."

you scrap your feet against the pavement, effectively getting him to stop even though he pulls at your arm.

there are remnants of pleading in his eyes; a yearning of your heart to just let him lead you along.

but you refuse to listen to your inhibitions.

"ten minutes for anything to happen."

"nothing's going to happen," you give an inkling of a smile, hoping to persuade him.

peter does the same because he's not stupid. "it's ten more minutes that i get to spend with you."

you snatch your hand away from him as if burned by his sickly sweet tone.

you snort. "you get to walk home alone."

"i'm not gonna walk."

"peter, i'm trying to get you to bed on time."

"sweetheart, i'm trying not to go crazy worrying about you."

you raise a brow. cross your arms, making sure that he can't reach. "this is purely self-serving," you complain.

"yup."

and if you were to look at him, really--which you're not because you refuse to lose this game again--you might see the unspoken words in his eyes. you might just catch the tenderness.

the push and pull of his lips, the falling apart, and daring to breathe.

you might just catch his smile.

"c'mon," peter says, taking a step forward and leaning his head down towards you. "it's getting late."

"it's going to be later if you walk me home."

he wraps an arm around your shoulder, effectively spinning you around so that he can begin pulling you along. dragging you across the pavement like you're a child.

which, in hindsight, isn't too far off.

"peter," you whine.

"the more you argue the later it's going to be," peter chides softly, right in your ear.

because he knows how to break you down.

he's done it enough times, convinced you to follow him blindly with only a couple of pleas, kissed your skin until sensibility was a meek thing--not as potent as the way peter whispers in your ear.

you shiver, trying to shake him off.

and you can feel his breath when he laughs.

still, there are the smallest parts of you that need him to let you go. that need a moment to remember what it's like to be normal, and thoughtful.

and not broken at the idea of holding his hand.

"i'm going to hit you in the spleen."

resorting to violence is the only option.

peter laughs louder, voice echoing in the air. "you don't even know where my spleen is."

"only one way to find out."

so peter removes his arm from around you, hand reaching out to grab your face and pull you towards him.

your feet seem to go without an ounce of restraint; your eyes don't, because you look at the ground, wondering about germs.

about how close you have to be to someone to melt into them.

"hey," he says, softly, smiling--you can hear it. "look at me."

you do, but only because you want to see him.

you want to see the honeysuckle, the tight little lines on his skin that tell you more than just one story.

"just let me walk you home," peter whispers to you, fingertips brushing over your ears and down your neck. "it'll make me feel better."

"i just don't get why i can't--"

"do you know how many people i see each night, walking by themselves?"

you swallow, eyes meeting eyes. skin far too close to yours.

"it's not worth it, baby," he says, a quirk of his lip. "even though i know you just want to argue with me."

your brows furrow. "i don't argue."

"yeah," peter laughs. "you do."

"only when you're being stupid."

you can feel his breath against your skin. his hands haven't left, and his eyes are permanently stuck on you, apparently.

"peter," you say when he doesn't.

"it's only ten minutes," he says, as an argument to himself. "please?"

and it might just be the way he's looking at you--magic in his eyes, lighting up your face far more than any streetlight could--soft and smooth and so lovely.

it might be his pleading smile. it might be because he knows you so well, knows just where to push and pull you.

but eventually, when staring at more than just his eyes, you nod.

peter chuckles, against your face. "good."

you frown.

"if you'd said no i was gonna have to follow you home."

"objection."

peter still hasn't moved.

you still refuse to breathe.

still got that annoying pulling of your chest. the want to be alone just so you can exhale.

but peter is there because you're not going to tell him to leave. because you don't think you can.

you smile at him, finally. maybe it's because he's smiling back.

"let's go," he whispers to you. "it's getting late."

but not before he kisses you, soft and relentless.

my masterlist here.

tags: @moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf

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onceuponastory · 7 months

Text

i've got you - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky has another nightmare. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, Bucky's past trauma and how he blames and hates himself for what he did, basically everything that he did as The Winter Soldier and had done to him by HYDRA is a warning in this, but specifically the mind wiping, murder/death and shooting. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is my piece for @flufftober Day 1: "I've Got You." I saw this quote and just knew it fit Bucky x Reader so well. Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Late one night, Y/N and Bucky are fast asleep in their Brooklyn apartment. Everything is still and quiet. Until Bucky starts to murmur in his sleep, tossing and turning as he starts to dream. Memories from the last seventy decades flash through his mind. The train, being found by HYDRA, his arm being replaced…. “No.” He whispers. “Stop.” But the memories continue. And now, he's seeing his time as the Winter Soldier. This time, Bucky is powerless. He can only watch on, unable to intervene.

The Winter Soldier’s standing in front of someone, another faceless victim, watching as they beg for their life. He's lost count of the lives he destroyed and the people he killed. This is just one of many. Ever since he escaped HYDRA’s control, Bucky’s been trying hard to make amends and forget what happened to him.

But unfortunately for him, his mind has other ideas.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” The person begs. But the soldier doesn’t listen, and raises his gun. “No! Please!” Their voice is more panicked now, begging and screaming for him to stop. Bucky can feel himself reaching out, as if he’s trying to stop himself from making the same mistakes he did. Yet no matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t stop himself… and the Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

Bucky gasps, jolting awake. The room is silent… aside from the pounding in his chest. He grips the bedsheet for dear life, so tightly his knuckles turn white. Sweat drips from his forehead, and a few strands of his hair cling to it. He’s a monster, regardless of how much he tries to change. That’s what his dream was trying to tell him. He still hears the screams of the innocent people he killed. Even now, when he’s awake. And he can see the face of Alexander Pierce, looming down at him before he gets wiped again. Bucky’s body tenses, and he shuts his eyes tightly, trying to block everything out.

He’s ready to deal with this alone. Like he always does. Like he was trained to do. In a way, it’s for his own self protection. This way, nobody else can see how fucked up he is.

But then, there’s a different voice speaking into the darkness.

“Bucky?” Y/N moans, rubbing her eyes as she wakes up. The sudden sound of her voice almost makes Bucky jump. “What’s going on?” She moves her hand over to Bucky’s side of the bed, feeling nothing but empty space. When she sees him sitting there, gripping the sheet, her eyes widen with concern, and her voice softens as she realises what’s happened. “Oh.” She scoots over to him, gently wrapping her arm across his trembling body and pulling him closer to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, I’m here. It was just a nightmare.” She soothes, her voice full of comfort and compassion.

The first night Bucky woke up screaming, haunted by memories of his past, his body aching with the decades of pain and torture HYDRA inflicted on him, Y/N was shocked. But more than anything, Y/N felt horrible for Bucky - that someone had put him through something so traumatic and that he was so haunted by it. But it also made a horrible pit of guilt form deep inside her. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t take all this pain away from him, or even reverse the clock and stop everything that HYDRA did to him. Being unable to stop his pain is the worst feeling in the world. So instead, she does the next best thing. She makes sure that Bucky knows she’s there for him whenever he needs her. Even if he’s on a mission and in a completely different time zone and needs to call her, she’ll always pick up no matter what. Her love for Bucky is unwavering, and she’ll always be there for him.

Especially tonight. “It was… it was….” Bucky speaks, close to hyperventilating. “Shh…shh…. It’s okay.” Y/N tells him reassuringly, tenderly kissing his temple. “You don’t have to tell me anything.” Bucky grabs her hand, squeezing onto it for dear life. Like she’s his rock, stopping him from being swept out into sea. In a way, she is. Or at least, she's the one stopping him from falling deeper into a pit of despair and self loathing. “Just take deep breaths with me, okay Bucky? In and out, match my breathing.” Bucky does as she says, keeping a tight grasp on her hand as he does.

And soon, he slowly starts to feel a little better. “You should go back to sleep. I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I woke you up again.” Y/N shakes her head, kissing his temple once more.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She tells him. “I told you, I’m here for you. I’ve got you.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers, and her heart breaks right there. Of course, she could never truly know what it’s like to go through something like Bucky did, and how much guilt and pain he must be feeling right now. “I deserve to go through this alone. I’m a monster.” His voice cracks.

But Y/N just wants him to stop punishing himself for things that weren’t his fault, and understand that he’s a victim too. “No you’re not a monster. You never were. It’s not your fault.” She whispers. “You’re a good person, Bucky.” Another kiss, this time to his cheek. “You never have to be alone again. I’m right here.”

“Thank you for sticking by me. For making me feel like more than I am.” He manages a small smile at that, a welcome relief to Y/N. “I love you… so damn much.”

“Of course I would. I’ll always be here for you, Bucky.” She smiles. “I love you too.”

They sit together for a while, with Bucky still in Y/N’s comforting embrace. He feels so safe and happy when he’s around her, and he’s so grateful that the universe sent her to him. She’s his one good thing after everything that happened to him, and all the pain he’s caused. He glances over at her, watching as she rubs his back.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he doesn’t have to do this alone anymore. He leans over, cupping her cheeks and kissing her softly. Bucky knows he has a long way to go with his healing, but Y/N’s support motivates him to be better, to be the man she deserves. With a smile, she gives his hand another squeeze. “We’re in this together.” She whispers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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peterman-spideyparker · 1 year

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The Roommate and The Best Friend (College!Matt Murdock x College!Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Long time, no post, guys! I do apologize for going silent on the fic front--I’ve just been so tired lately, I haven’t had the motivation to really edit anything I’ve written. BUT, my sweet baby angels, this is the longest stand alone fic I’ve ever done! It also took forever to edit, lol. I really hope you guys enjoy! :)

Summary: You’ve been Foggy’s best friend since you two could walk. Matt’s been Foggy’s best friend since he moved in at Columbia. After three years at law school all together, you’re all as thick as thieves. When Foggy doesn’t show up one day to a study session, something blossoms between you and Matt that will change the ecosystem of your friendship trio forever.

Warnings: Fluff (friends to lovers, cuteness, cuddles, kisses), angst (shouting, friendship fights, hurt feelings), smut (p in v, protected sex, blowjob, handjob, being cute dorks when a matching set is involved), swearing

Other Characters: College!Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 8.081

“At what point do you think we can officially say Foggy isn’t coming?” you sigh, flipping the page in your notebook and highlighting what is written in accordance to your study system.

Matt lets out a breath through his nose as his fingers move to feel at the braille surface of his watch. “An hour ago?” he smirks, resuming his own work.

“Eh, I guess I should have seen that coming.”

“How so?”

“All boys are the same when they start relationships, especially when they reengage the on-again. Knowing Foggy and Marci, they’re doing some weird sort of sex-study review game.” You shudder at the memory. “You’re lucky you’re blind, Matty. You can’t unsee that.”

“Trust me, I think it’s worse to only hear,” he chuckles.

“Ew, don’t even remind me of the sound!”

Matt just laughs, his fingers sliding across the page.

“Hey, get back to studying, Chuckles,” you chastise, smiling big yourself as you move back to your notes. “Rule 24 of Federal Civil Procedure won’t learn itself.”

“Rule 24. Intervention. Intervention of Right: On a timely motion, the court must permit anyone to intervene who—.”

“Shut up,” you scoff playfully, hitting his shin underneath the table. “Show off.”

You go back and forth, quizzing one another on the rules of civil procedure in the unit, adjusting in the library chairs until you’re leaning shoulder to shoulder going over material, Matt having abandoned his braille textbooks to listen to you read to him.

“You have a really beautiful voice, you know that?” Matt hums, his voice dipping into a velvety timbre.

“You’re just lazy,” you chuckle as you tilt your head and gaze over at him. “Getting me to do all the work.”

“Delegating,” he attempts.

“Laziness,” you counter.

“You do better when do explain things. You’ve said so yourself. And I’m a great listener.”

You purse your lips and let out a little sigh. “I do do better when I talk out loud,” you admit.

“You also always find your answer when you do.”

“And I do like talking to you.”

“I rest my case,” he says with a satisfied smile.

“Asshole.”

You laugh in your little secluded spot in the library, your shoulders shaking against one another’s as you do. You tilt your head to face him, Matt doing the same thing at the same time, his dark rectangular glasses long abandoned, letting you look into the honey hazel galaxy of his irises.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice making a warmth spread all over your body.

“Hey yourself, Murdock,” you counter.

“You’re gonna be a really great lawyer, you know that?”

You feel yourself blush. If it’s from the sentiment of his words, the pitch that he says it, or your proximity, you’ll never know. Maybe it’s all three. You’re just glad he can’t see the full extent of how his words make you feel.

“Thanks, Matty. You’re gonna be great, too. I pity whoever will have to go against you in court.”

“You are so extraordinary, (Y/N),” he whispers, his thumb and forefinger taking ahold of your chin, the space between the two of you smaller than you remember.

“So are you,” you breathe.

“(Y/N), I—."

“I think we’re just getting tired,” you breathe as his lips hover centimeters from yours.

“No, I think we’re picking up on something that’s been here for a bit,” he counters, his voice at such a low pitch it does things to the heart in your chest and the heart between your legs.

But this is Matt you’re talking about. He’s your friend. He’s Foggy’s friend, his roommate. Sure, people can bond with their roommates, but it was almost like something out of a buddy-comedy with what happened with those two, and it was instantaneous.

You shuffle and maneuver around everyone in the hallway, moving furniture and supplies into their homes for the next year as you track down the number that is your best friend’s new address.

“Alright, Foghorn, boxes have been unpacked, and liquor needs to be poured!” you call as you glide through the entryway, the door left ajar. When you enter, you don’t see anyone in sight. Did you get the wrong number? No, that’s not it: unless someone else has some interest in really niche bands and the same quilt his mother knit him for Christmas in undergrad, you’re definitely in the right place. The social butterfly of a teddy bear man probably bonding with his roommate or something.

Just as you flop down on what his definitely Foggy’s bed, you hear his laugh and the tapping of something growing closer to the dorm.

“ . . . and I said, ‘No, Mom and Dad. I love you guys, but I don’t want to be a butcher, I want to be a lawyer,” Foggy recalls his infamous butcher story, his words becoming clear as they enter.

“Not the butcher story!” you interrupt, sitting right back up like a vampire in its casket, watching Foggy enter with a handsome man next to him, his brown hair floppy and shiny, dark rectangular glasses perched on his nose and a white cane in the hand that isn’t holding his coffee. “You got coffee without me? Rude.”

“Jesus, (Y/N)!” Foggy hisses, almost slipping his to go cup of coffee in the process.

“Sounds like a pretty famous tale,” the man next to him says with an amused smirk pulling across some particularly pouty lips. Really pretty pouty lips.

“Matt, this is (Y/N), my best friend since toddledom,” Foggy introduces, licking some of the roast that escaped the sip hole of the lid. “(Y/N), this is my roommate, Matt. His dad was Battlin’ Jack Murdock.”

Getting up, you move over to in front of where he stands by Foggy, watching how he adjusts the cane in his grip to under his arm, extending his hand just enough where it looks expectant for yours.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt,” you tell him with a soft smile.

“Likewise,” he says with a little nod.

“I have to say, my gram was a big fan of your dad. She loved watching his matches.” He acknowledges your comment with a nod of his head and a little, soft smile. “You know, you lucked out on your roommate. Foggy’s the best friend you could ever ask for. You might need to get some earplugs, though, he snores like a Foghorn.”

“Do not!” Foggy interjects.

“He’s still in phase one denial of the whole thing. Really, sometimes, I think he could wake the dead with that sound.”

Matt’s lips curl into an incredibly large smile with a warm laugh that matches the expression.

And, well, the rest his history, with the three of you being thick as thieves since that day.

“This can’t happen,” you breathe, swallowing hard while your head and heart race a million miles a minute. “Foggy is my best friend—he’s your best friend. We can’t.”

“I know,” he breathes. “That doesn’t mean I want to, though. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you want to, too.” He pushes some hair that has fallen out of your clip behind your ear. “Would it . . . Would it really be the worst thing?”

Your eyes flick down to his lips and how is tongue peeks out ever so slightly to moisten the plush skin before back up to his honey hazel eyes and their off-center gaze, his face softer and more vulnerable without the dark specks resting on his nose.

“This kind of stuff can ruin friendships. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to hurt Foggy.”

“I don’t want any of that either. But I also know that I don’t want to go another moment without kissing you.”

It’s unclear if you’re the one that closes the gap between you or if it’s Matt, but before you know it, you’re kissing in your little corner of the library. His lips are as soft as they look, perhaps even more so, and his aftershave floods your nose—crisp and fresh, a subtle blend of sandalwood, vanilla, and coffee pulling you closer and closer into him. His large hands slide down the sides of your body, squeezing your waist, making you moan into his mouth. The sound encourages him to lift you up, placing you so you straddle one of his legs. As the kiss grows more heated, your fingers running through his incredibly soft hair, you pull back, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks softly, his hands running up and down your body soothingly.

“Extremely,” you breathe with a bright smile.

Matt smiles so bright he could outshine the sun, lines of happiness etching themselves into the skin by his eyes as he leans back in for a kiss. His hands continue to move mindlessly along your waist and your back, his fingers grazing the hem of your shirt and sneaking underneath the soft fabric, making goosebumps break out over your body with a shudder.

“Isn’t it a bit of a cliché to do that in the library, Matthew?” you whisper in his ear as he trails wet kisses along your neck, your entire body tingling at your position and the way he moves against your body.

“Only if we get caught,” he smirks, moving his face back so it’s focused in your direction.

“I’m taking that as code for you can attest to that from experience?”

“It was a close call, never a red-handed situation.”

“Mm, you true gentleman.”

You watch as Matt’s brows shoot up and furrow, some of the energy leaving him as his demeanor beings to change. “Do you not want to? We don’t have to. I—.”

“I want to, Matt,” you tell him, your cheeks burning hot at your own admission. “Do you?”

“I do. I wouldn’t have kissed you like that if I didn’t want to. Unfortunately, I didn’t think it through all the way—we can’t go back to my dorm. Foggy is probably there.”

“We could go back to mine?” you suggest, your heart now fully racing like a marathon runner. “I have a dingle.”

“Dingle?” Matt repeats with furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips.

“A double that’s now a single since my roommate dropped out.”

“A dingle.”

“A dingle, yeah.”

Matt brings his lips back to your, his kisses needily and tenderly in your isolated corner of the library.

“So, is that a yes, Murdock?”

The wicked grin that pulls as his lips tell you everything you need to know, and he doesn’t even bothering to use his cane as you lead him to your dorm on campus.

As soon as the door to your place is closed, your lips reattach and your hands work in a frenzy against one another’s bodies, desperately trying to get the clothes off of one another. Your hands slide over his muscular arms and torso until they are buried in his hair, the only thought in your brain is that you need to get him deeper and closer—a thought that continues on loop for the time you’re together.

The feeling of Matt’s lips on yours is made so much better after the orgasms that he has pulled from your body over and over during the night, but you’ll be damned if he stops now. A thin sheen of sweat covers your bodies as Matt continues to rut into you, one hand on your waist while the other supports his body weight on the mattress, kissing your shoulders and neck while his little wooden crucifix swings back and forth around his neck.

“Matt,” you groan before you pull him up for a kiss, his hair an absolute disheveled mess. It’s sloppy and filled with need, but damn if it isn’t absolutely impeccable.

“Do you have one more in there for me, angel?” he pants as he moves his kisses across your cheek to the sweet spot of your neck. “Come on, angel, you can cum one more time, can’t you?” All you can do is whimper as Matt continues to wind up that special knot in your stomach. “You’re doing so good. One more, I promise. Just one more.”

Hiking up your legs around his waist, you make sure the Matt’s hips stay as close to yours as possible, selfishly letting him rub up against your swollen, overstimulated clit, and ensuring that he’s nice and deep in you. The little grunts and groans that fall from Matt’s lips are angelic, the parted, plush lips and scrunched look of bliss on his face making your heart race more than it already is from exertion.

“Matty,” you whine. “Fuck!”

“Doin’ good, angel. Fuck, so good.”

Biting your lip and closing your eyes, you let the feeling wash over you while you dig your fingers into his toned muscles.

“I’m gonna . . . I—.”

“M-Me too,” he moans, dropping to his forearm to come closer to you as you try to hold your legs back higher. The newfound closeness and the new position let’s Matt reach a new angle, and it’s enough for the both of you to fall over the edge together. Matt does his best to try and fuck you through both of your orgasms, but it’s too much, and he stills, his hand running all over your body as he dips his head and presses soft kisses to your neck and lips. You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls out, feeling hollow without him in you, the drag of his length along your walls enticing. Tying up the condom, he tosses it in the trash while you get up and pad over to the bathroom. When you get back, you see him waiting with a dopey smile on his face, the sheets draping over his hips like some kind of adonis. When you get close enough, he pulls back your sheets and you happily slide in, snuggling close as he wraps an arm around you.

“You’re good at that,” you hum. “I think you’d gold medal.”

Matt laughs as his fingers trace patterns into your skin. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“We can’t go back from that, you know,” you say softly.

“Who says I want to go back from it?” He shifts his head down in an effort to look at your face. You look back at him with furrowed brows. “I want to be more, (Y/N).”

“Matt,” you start. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to lose you or Foggy. If we do this and it doesn’t work . . . I lose the two most important people in my life.”

“I swear to you, (Y/N), you won’t lose either of us.”

You snuggle down on him, listening to his heartbeat before you peck a quick kiss to his chest. “I want more, too.”

“Then we’ll figure it out. I promise.” Matt runs a soothing hand up and down the line of your back.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers.

You let out a little sigh. “Just that I thought I was supposed to be wined and dined before I was sixty-nine’d.”

Matt lets out a chuckle that radiates throughout your body. “We didn’t—.”

Before he can finish, you tilt your head up to look at his face, witnessing the moment that it clicks in his brain. “Classy,” he laughs.

“I’m just saying . . .”

“I can order pizza? I just don’t think I can do booze to go.”

“Who says you need to bring the booze?” Rolling over, you reach into the bottom drawer of your nightstand and pull out a bottle of wine. “From the special movie night reserve.”

Matt’s lips turn into a big smile, making adorable lines appear again at the corners of he eyes as he leans forward for another kiss, making you loose grip on your bottle of wine. He catches it with ease, placing it to the side of the bed as he chases your lips, and the way he captures your body beneath his lets you know that he doesn’t plan for the night to end any time soon.

Your leg bounces and your heart races as your eyes keep flicking towards the clock on the desk, watching the second hand move painfully slow across the timepiece as you await Matt’s arrival like you do several times a week, except this time, you have a surprise for him. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you hear a gentle knock at the door. There’s no special pattern to it, but the pressure and rhythm lets you know that Matt is on the other side. His handsome smile greets you when you swing your door open.

“Hey,” you smile as Matt enters your dorm, his bag sliding off his broad shoulders to the ground, cane leaning up against the wall, and glasses coming off of his face as he toes off his shoes.

“Hey yourself,” he hums as his plush lips curl upward into a smile, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. The way his tongue slides into your mouth sends goosebumps all throughout your body; if anyone else tried to kiss you like this, you would consider it absolutely gross. But the way Matt does is? That’s how a man kisses—a man that’s on the cover of a romance novel that is dominant but tender, passionate yet gentle. A shudder of pleasure moves through you like shockwaves as he moves his hands up from your waist and up to your neck, helping him set the pace and motions of the kiss.

“I have a surprise for you,” you whisper when he finally pulls back, getting the sentence out just before he begins to eagerly move back in.

His eyebrows quirk up. “Do you, now?” Cocky bastard.

“I do. Now, sit on the bed.”

With a gentle push on his shoulder, he falls back on the mattress, making him coo in delight as he bounces slightly and causes the springs to squeak. With a little exhale to pump yourself up, you pull off your shirt and slide down your jeans, standing in nothing but your underwear.

“You know I can’t see it, angel,” Matt says with a tilt of his head. “But I do like what I just heard.”

“You don’t need to see it to appreciate it, Matty,” you inform, taking a step forward, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your shoulders. “Now, feel.”

This fingers glide over the soft lace that flutters off of the straps, down to the smooth mesh cups, and over the sides, tracing the lace and the pseudo-boning that decorate the bustier. His fingertips trace between the valley of your breasts, feeling a little criss-cross pattern that adorns the fabric before gliding his fingers down the the mesh panties and feeling the same soft lace that decorated it. A tiny moan escapes your lips when he brushes his fingers down between your legs, his digits lingering before they come to rest on your hips.

“You got a matching set for me?” he asks, his expression and tone one that you can’t quite read.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Murdock, it’s from Target,” you hum as his hands trace the hemline of your panties. “But yeah. I thought you’d like the textures being consistent. And, I could afford it, so, that was a perk.”

“You got lingerie for me,” he smirks, his lopsided grin telling you that you’ve only inflated his ego. “That’s so—.” His sentence his halted when his fingers trail to the back of the underwear, just below the small of your back. “Angel, I think you’re missing part of these panties.”

Now it’s your turn to smirk. “Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p’. “It’s got a little keyhole back. It’s not quite easy access, but—mm, Matty.”

“I say, it gives me a good idea,” he says as one hand squeezes the flesh of your ass as the fingers on the other slip into the keyhole and tease you. Pulling you back onto the bed with him, you straddle him as you mimic the kind of kiss he greeted you with upon arriving. Moans and puckering quickly fill the room as you grind your hips on his jeans, opting to tease him through his light layers before attempting to shed them.

“You are such a fucking tease,” he murmurs in between kisses.

“Hi pot, it’s kettle,” you quip as you mark up his neck before pulling off his shirt. If you didn’t right this second, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Objection—badgering!”

“Overruled.”

With a light shove, you push him down so you are now fully on top of him, kissing all over his beautiful chest and soft skin as you grind into him.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“You’ve helped me perfect my technique,” you hum into his skin, moving your kisses back up to his neck and lips. “Gotta get you nice and hard for me, Matty.”

As you continue to grind down on him, his hands guide your hips, setting the pace and pressure just so in an effort to make you both feel good. When his hands begin to travel up on your body along the line of your spine, you gently take hold of them and bring them back down.

“I got the matching set for you—it’s staying on during this entire thing,” you smirk, dragging his fingers along the mesh and lace of your panties. “Now, I can’t say the same thing about these jeans.”

Moving off of him, you undo his belt and pants, shimmying off the denim with some help from his hands, allowing you to take hold of his painfully hard cock, pumping it in your hand before you bend down, your knees digging into the thin mattress so you can start to take him in your mouth.

“(Y/N),” he moans. “Fuck . . . So nice, baby.”

“Mm,” you giggle, dragging your lips back and forth along his length, licking him here and there. “Your cock is so pretty, Matty. I love putting it in my mouth.” Slowly going down on his length, you wiggle your head side to side lightly until you’re all the way down on his length with your cheeks hollowed out. You look up at him through your lashes, feeling a sense of pride at how is face is contorted in pleasure and how long his lashes look resting on his cheeks. Moving off of him, you gasp and catch your breath, hungrily kissing up his length while one of his hands cradle the side of your face. His hand doesn’t set a pace as you bob your head, repeatedly taking his thick cock into your mouth over and over, but rather as a silent show of encouragement and affection as you work him. Careful to not get too lost in it all with Matt in your mouth, you reluctantly pull off, leaving soft pecks all the way up his body until you meet his lips.

“Are you ready to fuck me with my panties on, Matty?” you coo.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs with his lips against your. Taking you by surprise, he quickly grabs you by your hips and flips your positions, making you giggle and bring his lips back to yours for a deep kiss. Like a rehearsed routine, he extends his arm to the side and opens your nightstand drawer, rummaging around for the box of condoms you keep there. “Angel,” he pants, “I hate to break it to you, but there are no more condoms in this box.”

“What?” you say practically whining as you adjust your position under Matt, taking the investigation into your own hands. Just as Matt said, the box of contraceptives is completely empty. This time, you do whine. “No!”

“I told you.”

“I could have sworn I had plenty.”

“You know what it was?” he says, something clicking in his brain. “Moot court championship.”

Thinking back to a couple of weeks ago, you remember exactly how you celebrated the travel team winning your championship over Yale—you and Matt being the two that secured the victory, which only provided extra cause to celebrate.

“Damn, you’re right,” you sigh.

“I could always run out and get some more? I’d be quick.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” you joke, only for Matt to roll his eyes, licking his lips and tilting his head back in playful annoyance. Damn, he’s got a beautiful neck. “No, Matty. I don’t want you going out this late.

“It’s not too late, sweetheart.”

“I’d be worried about you going out in the dark.”

“That’s sweet—you worry about me.” Nothing in his words are condescending—they’re filled with pure affection. “Trust me, (Y/N). I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”

“I still don’t like the idea of you going out.”

Matt kisses your forehead before resting his on yours. “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you say, knowing immediately where he is going with his sentence.

“Well, since you don’t want me to go out and get some more and I really, really need to be inside the smart and talented woman that bought a matching set for me, we’re in a pickle.”

You let out a huff, your hands sliding down Matt’s furry arms.

“Foggy isn’t there?” you check.

“Out with Marci.”

“And you’re sure there’s no way he’d be back?”

“I can say it’s highly likely he won’t be back. Even if he does—.”

“Matt—.”

“Even if he does,” he repeats. “He’s gonna leave almost immediately because his roommate is having sex.”

“And if he asks with who after? Actually, better yet, what if he tries to come and hang out with me?”

“Tell him you’re out shopping. You and I both know that while he’s a man of unique fashion, he treats shopping like a mission. Trust me, that should work.”

You look up at him, licking your lips in hesitation before you pull him down for a kiss. “Okay. But first . . .” Maneuvering him on the two pushed together mattresses of your dingle so you’re on top, you run your hands down his body, wrapping your digits around his rock hard length and pumping him a few times. “You’re not going anywhere with a boner that big.”

“Matt,” you breathe as he glides into me so incredibly effortlessly, hitting deep over and over. “Oh God, Matt.”

“Angel,” he grunts, a delicious blush spreading up and across his chest and neck. “Fuck, I needed you.”

“You’ve got me,” you smile, taking one of his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together while he thrusts into you. “Mm, you’ve got me, Matty. I’m yours. Only yours. ’m not going anywhere.”

The softest smile spreads across his features when he rests his forehead on yours. “My girl,” he whispers before bringing his lips to yours.

Dipping his lips to your neck, his holds your hips up so your back arches slightly off of the bed while he thrusts into you.

“Matty,” you whimper. “I lo—mm! Matt!”

Matt places wet kisses all over your chest and neck before he brings his lips back to yours.

“So perfect,” he mutters in between kisses, and it’s then that you hear the twist and jiggle of the doorknob.

Matt abruptly breaks your embrace, frantically moving to cover your body with his, and you curl inward and down to the mattress, facing the wall so Foggy won’t be able to see your face.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Foggy says, and you can hear his hurried movements to grab what he needs. “Inopportune timing, I know, but Marci invited me on a weekend getaway, and I need some things.”

“Just hurry,” Matt urges him, and you can tell that the rapid way that his chest rises and falls isn’t from your interrupted exertion. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, I am out of—,” Foggy starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. “Those are (Y/N)’s shoes.”

“What would her shoes be doing in our room, Foggy? She can’t just leave them places —she kind of needs them. Besides, I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

You hear Foggy’s bag fall to the floor with a thud.

Shit.

“Matt, who’s with you?”

“Foggy—.”

“You know, I think I might just give (Y/N) a call. Check up on her.”

“Fog—.”

“Wait,” you sigh, closing your eyes in distress and defeat as you break your silence. Adjusting from under Matt, you turn to look at your friend. The look of pure betrayal and hurt is one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. But what’s even scarier, is how quickly the hurt in his eyes turns to pure, red-hot anger.

“Get away from them!” Foggy shouts, pulling Matt off the bed, Matt barely having enough time to react and keep his sheets around his hips. “Don’t you dare touch them!” You hop down from the mattress, standing between the two best friends and roommates, sticking your arms out to create extra distance in the tiny dorm so Foggy doesn’t absolutely jump Matt.

“Stop it!” you urge.

“I can’t believe you!” Foggy continues.

“Foggy, believe me, we didn’t mean for this to happen, it just did—,” Matt tries.

“You know how much they mean to me, and you just decided to ignore it and drop your pants for a quick fuck—!”

“Hey, whoa, out of line, Foggy!” you interrupt. “Don’t put this on Matt like that, we both—.”

“I’m not talking to him, I’m talking to you!” he clarifies. “You know that Matt is my best friend, and you go and do this? How could you? I can’t believe you! After all the things I’ve told you, about how his is with women—.”

“Hey!”

“—how could you be so careless and reckless?”

“Excuse me—.”

“I thought you were smarter than this! I can’t believe you!”

“Foggy—.”

“I can’t even look at you. Just get out of here!”

Tears burn at my lash line as I let his words absorb into me.

“Get out!” he repeats, the level and tone of his voice something I am thoroughly unused to. “I never want to see you again.”

You would’ve rather he just sent an open-faced slap across your face. His words and his tone cut you like a knife and are worse than any other pain you have or could ever experience. Mixed with his glare more than confirm that my best and oldest friendship has now been severed in half with no chance of reconciliation.

“Fog—,” Matt starts quietly, breaking the deathly silence in the room.

“I’m going,” you say after a moment, grabbing the clothes you can find. You don’t really care that they are Matt’s sweats—you just want to get out as fast as you can. Throwing them on and grabbing your bag, you begin to rush out of the room, only for Matt to take a few steps out to follow you.

“(Y/N)—,” he says softly, his beautiful hazel eyes desperately trying to focus on your face as his tongue darts out ever so slightly on his lips.

“I’ll see you later, Matty,” you tell him with a kiss to his cheek, as he holds your hand feet away from his door in the empty hallway.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

You squeeze it back. “No. It won’t.”

“How mad is he still?” you ask quietly as lie with Matt in bed, unable to stand the silence in the room that allows your thoughts to run wild, ramping up your anxiety over the friendship that you lost. Foggy was true to his words when he said he never wanted to see you again—he has cut you off cold in every way imaginable, from changing his route from dorm to class, to finding a new coffee shop and time to eat in the mess hall, to changing his seat in class to the other side of the room, and even going as far as to request a new partner for a project, erasing every possible venue where you could interact.

“He’s still really upset about it all,” Matt sighs. “He’s talking to me. It’s not exactly the same degree as it was, but it’s enough where we are moving back to what we were. It’s still awkward sometimes, though.”

“Does he know that we’re still together?”

“He does.” Matt pauses for a long while, his arm rubbing up and down your arm as if he’s listening to your silent question that screams through the dorm room. “We don’t talk about relationships, though.”

You let your breath hitch in your chest while your jaw tightens, a fresh wave of guilt that you haven’t felt in a long time washing over you. “I’m sorry that I’ve made things weird between you guys,” you whisper on the verge of tears.

“It’s not your fault, (Y/N).”

You snuggle down into his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “Sure as hell feels like it.”

“He’ll move past it. It’s just gonna take time. Before you know it, it’ll be back to how it was.”

“It won’t be the same, Matt. You know that it won’t. Especially after all these months . . . it’s dead and gone and buried.”

“It will be okay, (Y/N).” When you don’t respond, Matt moves his hands down your body and situates you so you’re sitting on top of him, the covers pooling around your waist and leaving you exposed to the cold winter air that seeps in through the old windows of the dorm. “I promise you, (Y/N), that it will all be okay. And you know how I know? You and Foggy have the biggest hearts of everyone I know. There’s so much love in there, and there’s so much love that you have for one another. So when I tell you that it’s going to be okay, it will be okay.”

You give him a small smile, leaning down and taking his face in your hands, giving him a soft and sweet kiss.

“Thanks, Matt,” you whisper, brushing his hair off of his forehead.

“Hey, I know what will get that smile to grow.” With his hands on your hips, he begins to rock you back and forth along his leg, holding you down, placing just the right amount of pressure down on your hips to create the friction that you need between your legs.

“Dick,” you chuckle as he guides you along his strong, muscular leg.

“You gotta give him a minute before it’s good for either of us,” he hums, only making you laugh more. “But I got you to smile.”

“You always make me smile, Matty.”

“Ditto, angel.”

Your room fills with the slick sound of your core against his leg and your heavy breathing, the sounds only getting louder as your pace increases.

“Right there,” you breathe as he guides your hips on his thigh, soaking the skin that’s there and creating a mess between your legs. “Fuck, Matty. It’s so fucking good, baby.”

“Grab a condom, angel,” he moans. “Fuck, I gotta get in you soon. Need you, angel.”

Twisting around quickly, you go to reach for the box in your nightstand. However, you twist too quick, losing your balance and teetering off of Matt’s thigh, crashing down on the concrete floor of your dorm, your arm breaking the fall. You groan in pain, muffling the sound by keeping your mouth shut as it tries to escape your lungs, and you hold onto your forearm, a throbbing pain radiating from deep down.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Matt asks you as he gets out of the bed and helps you up.

“Fine,” you grit through your teeth. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.” You wince when his hand grazes your arm. “(Y/N)—.”

“I’m okay. I just whacked my arm real good.”

“It sounded like more than that. Take the word of a blind man with really good hearing. It’s more than a whack.”

“Matty, it’s okay.”

“You really should get it checked out. It might be broken.”

“It’s not broken, Matt, trust me. Nothing Advil and ice can’t fix.”

“Sweetheart, please. That way, we can know for sure.”

“Matty—.”

“I’ll foot the bill.”

“It’s not about money, I—.”

“Go for me. It’ll make me feel better to know that a medical professional says you’re fine,” he continues. “Please, angel.”

You let out a sigh, taking in how concerned he is and how soft his features are.

“You’re gonna have to help me get dressed,” you concede.

“It’s gonna be a while,” you tell Matt as you sit back down next to him in the waiting room.

“But the forms are filled out,” he says with a little smirk. “One step down.”

“I’m telling you, Matt, it’s probably nothing.”

“And then you can rub it in my face. But at least I’ll feel better knowing you’re all right.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have an uncomfortably sore back.”

“C’mere,” he whispers, having you adjust and snuggle into his chest as you sit in the stiff, flat seats. “I always feel better when you’re on me—it’ll cancel out the shitty chairs.”

You chuckle softly, finding the sweet spot that you love to curl into. “You’re a good pillow, you know that?”

“You might have told me once or twice before.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head while he throws his coat over you like a blanket. The motion immediately brings the sleep creeping at the edge of your consciousness to the forefront, slowly taking over. “Try and sleep, angel. I’ll wake you up when they call.”

“No sleep til Brooklyn,” you smile.

“You’re hilarious,” he sighs, lightly resting his head on yours. “You still need to sleep. You were up late studying for your last final, got, what, maybe three hours of sleep? And you’ve been going all day. I’ll wake you up when they want to take you back, I promise.”

You yawn wide and snuggle into him, closing your eyes and feeling just how heavy they are. “Kay, Matty. Love you.”

You feel his hand slip into yours on on good arm. “Love you, too, angel.”

When you feel Matt gently shake you awake, you’re sure you must have only closed your eyes for a short while, but when Matt helps me up, your watch tells you that it’s several hours later.

“Want help, angel?” he asks as you slide his jacket back over to him.

“I’ve got it, Matty,” you hum, giving his lips a quick peck. “Besides, I got to prove to you that it’s all fine.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, giving the hand on your good arm a squeeze. “See you soon.”

After he listens to you get led back, Matt tunes into the orchestra of the waiting room, listening to anything and everything for a long while before something catches him off guard.

“What happened?” a familiar voice rings in Matt’s ears in the quieting ER.

“Foggy? What are you doing here?” Matt asks, standing up.

“Marci was visiting her cousin that had a baby. She saw you guys come in, said that something looked wrong.”

“(Y/N) hurt her arm. She didn’t want to come, but she was in a lot of pain. I almost had to drag her here.”

“What happened? How’d she hurt it?”

“She was trying to reach for something and overestimated the stretch. She fell off the mattress and landed hard on her arm.”

“Is it broken?” Foggy asks as he sits in your empty seat.

“I think it is,” Matt sighs, mirroring his friend’s movements. “She’s convinced she’s fine, though.”

“Of course she thinks she’s fine. She never wants to admit when she’s hurt. It’s like when she gets a cold, it’s always just—.

“Allergies’,” Matt finishes with a smirk. “Yeah. You know, she got a really bad cold about a month ago, and she would swear a blue streak that she was okay. I had to keep a bag of lozenges in my bag with a to-go Tylenol so when her fever spiked, I could give her some with some water or get her a tea from the coffee cart. I don’t know how she muscled through it. It was really bad.”

He can hear how his friend turns to look at him. “You really care about her, huh?”

“I love her, Foggy,” Matt tells him. “When I was with Elektra, I thought that was love. But being with (Y/N) . . . I know she’ll always be there. She makes me better. She helps me be who I want to be. And I’d do absolutely anything for her. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.” He tilts his head to his friend. “You know she didn’t want to date me at first? She was afraid it’d ruin our friendship, but she was more worried about how you would take it. She didn’t want to hurt your feelings. After everything . . . Fog, (Y/N)’s absolutely torn up about it.”

“You know, I’ve thought a lot about what I said to her and how I said it,” Foggy starts. “The look on her face . . . The worst thing about it all is that when I said those words, I wanted them to hurt her, and I did exactly that, and I felt good that I did. She looked so broken. By the time I wanted to try and talk to her, I burned that bridge so much I couldn’t reach her. I feel like the biggest piece of shit that there is.”

“If I know anything, it’s that (Y/N) loves you, and you and your friendship means the world to her. That bridge isn’t gone. If anything . . . The map was lost. And just because the map is lost doesn’t mean that the path over that bridge is gone for good.”

“You think so?” Foggy asks hesitantly.

“I know so. And if I know you and (Y/N) even a fraction of how well I do, things will be okay.”

“Thanks, Matt.”

“I’m just telling you the truth, man.”

As they talk in the waiting room, everything starts to feel like it used to—the ease, the comfort, the flow of conversation. After about ninety minutes, Foggy declares a quest for coffee, groaning as he stands, bemoaning just how uncomfortable the ER seats are. Shortly after Foggy disappears, Matt hears your heartbeat grow closer to the double doors you went through, the nurse giving you a list of care instructions. Matt smirks to himself while he can, taking some pride in the fact that he convinced you to get some help and prevent it from becoming worse, but willing to play none the wiser for when you come out.

“I’m not saying that you were right, only that I underestimated the severity,” you sigh as you meet Matt in the waiting room.

“What was it?” Matt asks, leaning in to kiss your cheek, but you wince when his hand is on your arm. “(Y/N), this feels like a cast.”

“Well, yes, it is. My radius and ulna are broken. But I was right, I’m fine. I’ll survive.”

“You are absolutely fit to be a lawyer,” he chuckles, kissing you once more. “When can the cast come off?”

“It’ll be off just in time for the start of the semester. No kinky sex stuff, though.”

“I’m sure we can find some kinky stuff to do that won’t hurt it. Trust me, I can get very creative.”

You laugh as he leans in for a kiss, your lips still turned into a smile as you embrace. When you pull back, you see Foggy approaching with a coffee travel tray. You immediately dip your head and avoid looking at him, unable to fight the feeling of tears that instantly bloom in your chest.

“You still like cinnamon in your coffee, right?” Foggy asks, making you tilt your head up to look at him, his other hand extending the hot cup to you.

“Two sugars?” you ask softly.

“No cream,�� he says with a little smile.

Taking it with your good hand, you let the cup warm you up. “Thanks, Foggy.”

“I’ll hail a taxi for us,” Matt says, pressing a kiss into your hair and then patting Foggy on the shoulder, leaving nothing but thick air between you and the person you’ve known your whole life.

“Listen, (Y/N)—.”

“I’m sorry, Foggy,” you blurt, unable to contain it. “With Matt, we just kissed, and I didn’t want to stop kissing him, but I really didn’t want to hurt you. It was head and heart and I just froze, and I lost my best friend because of it. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, (Y/N),” Foggy says softly, looking like he just saw a puppy get kicked. “I thoroughly overreacted. I should have been happy that my two friends were together and happy. Instead, I turned into a big brother and treated both of you like you didn’t know what you’re doing. I dunno . . . I guess I had just wished you would’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad. And the longer I waited, well, it felt like I couldn’t tell you,” you tell him. “I’m so sorry.”

“You love him?” is all that Foggy asks.

“I really do,” you nod. “He loves me, too. He hasn’t said it, but I just have a feeling, you know?”

“Something tells me that he does, too.” His brows furrow in concern. “Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Fog. Do you forgive me?”

“I’d wrap you in a big hug as a silent ‘You bet your bottom, I do’, but then I’d hurt your arm even more than it already is.”

“You still can,” you say with a small smile. “I’m a tough cookie. I can handle it.”

“How about when the two of you aren’t holding hot beverages?” Matt interjects as he reapproaches you.

“Attention to detail—that’s why you’ll be an excellent lawyer,” Foggy teases.

“Thanks, man,” Matt tells him, putting his jacket around your shoulders. “Good to go, angel?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you hum.

“I say let’s go to Josie’s. Drinks on me,” Foggy says as you move to the cab. “I’ve got my best friends back—if that isn’t cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.

“You think we’ll have time?” Matt asks, feeling at his watch as you guide him into the taxi.

“I’m sure she’d keep the bar open just a little longer for her favorite patrons and retainered legal council.”

“None of us are lawyers yet, Fog,” you chuckle as Foggy tells the cabbie the address for the bar.

“But we will be after we pass the Bar, and once we are, we’ll be her lawyers. Bingo, bango, bongo. She’ll let us have a tab and everything.”

“Dreaming big, aren’t you?” Matt laughs.

“Oh yeah, once we get that tab, we’ll be able to take over the world.”

“How about save the world?” you offer.

“Matt’s big humanitarian heart has gotten to you, I see.”

“C’mon, Fog. Who better to stick up for the little guys than three little guys from the Kitchen?”

“You make a good point. But I do counter—big office space with nice big windows and a view.”

“Well, a big office space would be nice. Windows and a view isn’t a deal breaker for me,” Matt smirks.

“We’ve got a real comedian over here.”

“All I’m saying is that if we’re helping people, does it really matter what the space is like?”

“Well, it’d be nice to have walls, floors, WiFi—ooh, no lead paint . . .”

“Okay, the space matters a little bit,” Matt and Foggy laugh as the cab comes to a halt, Matt beating you to the punch and paying the driver before you can unzip your bag.

“Regardless of its size, the space has to be in the Kitchen,” you settle. “If we’re gonna help the people, we need to be with the people.”

“Amen,” Foggy agrees, followed by Matt’s, “Here, here!” as we walk in.

“Sounds like we’ve got a future to plan,” you smile as you sit between them at the bar.

“Josie—the eel, please!” Foggy asks. “And several napkins: I’ve got some designing to do.”

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pixydustworld · 3 months

Text

Fate found Hermione Granger in the crowded Ministry cafeteria.

She had done her best to outrun it, but it was inevitable. Like the ocean finding the shore, like the mist that settled in the meadow right before sunrise; something that always happened, spiraling far beyond her control. Accepting defeat, however, had never been in her nature.

She would go down fighting, glorious in her anger.

“I think you’d be happier if you just let it happen.”

Ginny flinched after the words left her lips. “I mean,” she hurried to correct herself, cheeks red, “It’s just easier. Less painful.”

Hermione forced a smile. “I’m fine with the pain.” She said, ignoring the aching hole in her chest as she watched Blaise curve a comforting hand across her friend's shoulder, warm and present and possessive. An Alpha comforting his Omega. “And besides. I like belonging to myself.”

“We just want you to be happy.” Blaise shrugged. “How many heats have you done on your own? Five? Six? It’s unhealthy to do this to yourself, Hermione, and wrong —”

“Thank you.” Hermione interrupted him. “But I’m alright.”

It was a familiar conversation, one she knew well; at the start, Hermione had assumed she’d present as a Beta — Ron was one, she would be one, too.

When her Heat had come, unrelenting and debilitatingly unavoidable, she had known the truth: too bitter to be disregarded, too blatant to be ignored. She was an Omega, praised, prized and often, procured.

“This doesn’t change anything.” Harry had insisted a few days after she’d Presented, holding her close to his chest, fingers trailing along her spine. “You’re still you.” Then he had smiled down at her, self deprecating and familiar, like she remembered, like he’d always been. “And I’m still me.”

Harry had been wrong, as he often was. Perhaps things hadn’t changed much for him: being an Alpha was no different than his life before — but her presentation had changed everything.

“It’s just.” Ginny’s voice brought her back to the present, persistent in a way that could never be completely kind, “I know what you’re going through. You’re torturing yourself. ”

“I’ve been tortured.” Hermione said. The free coffee was not worth this interrogation, nor was the muffin Blaise had proudly presented to her (Alpha instincts, bleeding like an open wound across all of his actions), “It feels much worse than this.”

“Do you have a plan?” Blaise blurted out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer. He was blunt and unafraid of her wrath, like all Alpha’s were — all except Harry, who still remembered who she was underneath everything. Saw her for who she properly was. “For your next one?”

“Yes.” Hermione said through her teeth, bravely resisting the urge to throw her coffee in his face. “I’ll be alone. Like I have been. For the last six heats.”

Their conversation was ending, the embers of their time together dwindling, which could only mean one thing. The comment that haunted all her interactions, the ghost at her door, the seed of hope that sprouted in Ginny’s chest, determined to grow under any condition.

“What about the Alpha from that one time?” Ginny asked in a rush of words, determined to get it out before Hermione cut her off. “The last one you were with before this whole celibacy thing started. We should get him — ”

“No.”

Memories of their time spent together flashed before Hermione’s eyes, a mirage of naked flesh and shuddering pleasure. Pain bloomed deeper in her chest at the thought and Hermione blinked everything away

“I could try to find him.” Blaise was saying, like he always did. A broken record of concern, echoing over and over. “Let me try, Hermione — ”

“It’s alright.” Hermione said, soothing her friends. A warm bandage of care, a nice thought. “I didn’t know him. And even if you did manage to find him, I don’t think I’d even recognize him.” She smiled, then. Hopeful about finally getting to leave. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

It sounded like the truth.

Or at least, she hoped it did.

“I should go.” Hermione said in a cheerful voice, pushing the rest of her muffin towards Blaise — who, to his credit, hesitated an appropriate amount of time before starting to eat — “It should start tonight, so I’ve still got a few hours left.”

A few more hours to convince herself she was making the right choice.

“Do you need Harry to come by?” Ginny blinked at her. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you.”

“I’m sure he would.” Hermione frowned, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “I think Theo would mind, too.”

“I don’t think Tho would, actually.” Blaise mused through a mouthful of muffin. “He’s always liked you.”

Their voices blurred together as they started discussing the probability of her childhood best friend and his boyfriend helping her through her Heat — something Hermione did not want nor had she asked for. In fact, she had a feeling everyone involved would be miserable. Everyone but Theo, she supposed. He did like her.

Hermione knew the pressure was out of care, but she was weary from the way her friends loved. Burdened by their thoughts about her life, trembling limbs growing heavy under the weight of their concern.

She did her Heats alone because the other option was too much. The idea that her life could be fixed so simply by another person, was too much for her to acknowledge. It was beyond comprehension — she was her own, the bones beneath her skin the only support she’d ever need.

That, however, didn't stop Ginny from trying.

Hermione was opening her mouth to say something when she felt it: the shift in the air, the prickle of awareness across her neck — like waking up after a long, thick sleep.

He was here.

Which meant she had to leave.

“I’ll send an owl once it’s over.” Hermione interrupted them, ignoring the sound her chair made as it scraped across the floor. “Love you both.”

“Hermione!” Ginny called after her, but she kept going. The door was in sight — all she had to do was leave. It was simple, beautiful and right; she would go back to her office, floo back to her flat and lock herself in her bedroom for the next three days. It would hurt to do her Heat alone (it always did), but that was the price of freedom. Her fingers closed around the handle, beginning to push the door open —

Until Draco Malfoy caught her wrist and tugged.

A fox in a trap. Soon, the snow would bloom red with blood, leaving her body to freeze, no warmth left behind. No warmth but his own — and that was all he wanted, wasn't it? To be her only source of survival?

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

She had.

If he entered the room, Hermione left — if he caught her eye in the Atrium, Hermione blinked and faked interest in the crown molding (very ornate!). If he called her name in the hallways, Hermione pretended not to hear. She ignored his owls, his persistent requests to schedule a meeting — once she’d seen him waiting for her out in front of her office and she’d spent her entire lunch in a storage closet, eating her chicken tikka masala on an overturned bucket.

Hermione Granger did a very good job at pretending like Draco Malfoy did not exist.

“I have not been avoiding you.” She hissed. They were surrounded on all sides — leave it to Ginny to pick the busiest time for her impromptu ambush — but it felt like they were the only two people in the room. And it was a dangerous thing, being alone with him. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy?”

He looked the same as he always did. Pressed suit, not a hair out of place, towering above her frame. But different, too. His breath uneven, his eyes were dark, murky with something else — something familiar. He’d looked the same that night. When her Heat had come and he had found her. Hunted her, she supposed.

And she had let him.

“Yes.” Hermione tugged at her wrist in his grasp, but he tightened his hold. “I have a life, you know. One that is my own.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at her tone. “Am I to be expected to endure more torture?”

Fucking Draco Malfoy had been a bad idea, spending her entire Heat with him had been a mistake of massive proportions. It had ruined the careful world she had so lovingly built for herself. As soon as she had blinked back to awareness, Hermione had scrambled from Malfoy’s arms, ignoring the hurt that blossomed at the loss of his touch. Everything had felt too right, too perfect. Dangerously close to forever, which was not something Hermione could afford. “This is never happening again.” She had spat in his direction, trembling fingers searching in the darkness for her clothing. “Hermione,” He had begun, voice warm with a kindness she didn't expect or deserve. “Please, darling — ”

“Don’t call me that.” She hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t seen the heartbreak on his face. “Let’s pretend like this never happened, alright?” Hermione hadn’t found his bite mark until much later. It was alright, she had rationalized with herself, curled up in a ball on her living room floor, fingers heavy on her neck, tracing the shapes he had left behind. She hadn’t bit him, they weren’t bonded, they weren't mates — it was all fine. The next morning, Hermione had seen it. A set of tiny little teeth marks on his gland, precise and perfect, even when she was delirious with want. So proudly displayed, collar tugged purposefully out of the way. Then, her running had begun. And ever faithful, he had followed.

“Yes.” Hermione said, voice tight. “I’ll be out until Friday.”

“Will you need me?”

That was the worst part, his acceptance. Willing to take whatever she gave him, even if it was nothing at all.

Draco Malfoy had steadily changed over time, like a plant finally given the opportunity to spread their roots and grow properly. Change, like rain, washed away all that once was, leaving behind someone else entirely.

Someone willing to endure pain, just because she had decided it.

“No.” Hermione said softly. Just being around him was enough to soothe the ache in her soul. His grip on her wrist had softened, the warmth from his touch extending across her flesh, fire catching and spreading.

Hermione forced herself to tug herself free from his grasp, inhaling slightly when his fingers trailed across her skin as she pulled away. “I’ll be alright.”

“Hm.” Malfoy said. “I highly doubt that.”

“I don’t need your help.” Hermione said. She wasn’t afraid of him. Not when she was sixteen and he’d pressed his wand against her neck in Umbrdige’s office, and certainly not now. “I don’t belong to you.”

His fingers on her neck, brushing her curls aside; she could glamor the scars away all she liked, but he could still feel the indentation his teeth had left behind on her flesh.

He frowned, condescending and full of fake sympathy. “I think you do, baby.”

Hours later, Hermione was almost ready. Her wards were tight, her floo locking behind Ron after he left, the box of premade meals he’d brought her resting happily in her fridge. There was only one thing left to do:

Poking her head out into the back garden, she found what she was looking for.

“It’s supposed to snow.”

Malfoy didn’t look up from his book. “I’m a Wizard, aren't I?”

“Wizard’s can still get hypothermia.”

He looked up then, eyes soft. If it had been anyone else, Hermione would have thought they looked tender. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can always go home.”

They both knew he wouldn't.

“You know me, Granger.” Draco grinned. “I sit and stay, like all the good dogs do.”

She hovered on the edge of her doorway, watching her breath turn frosty in the night air. A storm on the horizon, promising to blow away all her neat plans. He watched her as she fidgeted. Not for the first time, Hermione wished, almost desperately, that she was born different. Born to be soft and accepting. Someone who would fall effortlessly into his outstretched hands.

She ran because she was afraid of the weight of her own feelings, terrified of what happiness could truly mean; being an Omega meant a loss of self, so she clung to her bitter solitude. Fingernails cracking from the pressure of holding herself together, a mouth full of blood from how hard she bit her tongue, preventing herself from calling out his name.

“It’s alright.” Malfoy said, cracking the silence that had swirled between them. “Go back inside. I’ll be right out here, keeping all the baddies away.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m not scared.”

“No?”

“No.” Hermione hesitated. It felt almost like carving herself apart, offering a part of herself. Trembling hands, covered in her own blood. “I have you.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, fingers tightening around the book, knuckles white. “I’ll be here.” He said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

In the middle of the night, Hermione jerked awake.

Stumbling blindly through the house, she found the back door. The glass was cool against her naked skin as she sagged to the floor, heaving breaths leaving her lips, trembling limbs and a pain that spread like poison, blooming across her flesh.

Draco was pressed against the other side of the door, his breath fogging up the glass. Waiting for her to come to him.

“Hi, baby.”

Fat tears were dripping down her neck, sticky and wet. “Hi.” She whispered.

She could smell him through the glass, the scent of him heavy in the air. It would be so easy to unlock the door, to welcome him inside — to sink blissfully down on his cock, swept away by the pleasure his presence provided.

But Hermione was stubborn.

Determined to hold her breath the longest underwater, unwilling to lose any competition, even one against her own heart.

She sank down on her fingers without hesitation, watching him as he watched her. Slick was dripping on the floor, a puddle beneath her shaking knees; uneven movements as she chased pleasure, warm flush crawling across her chest.

“Beautiful.” Draco breathed. Snowflakes were gathering on the tips of his lashes, but he didn’t shy away from the cold. Eyes fixed and unmoving on her — taking what she offered. “So perfect, all mine.”

Her fingers twisted inside, building pleasure “Yours.” She agreed. In moments like this, it was impossible to lie to herself. She loved him, wanted to crawl inside his ribcage and sleep until spring; she had bitten him first, after all, licked at the blood that smeared across his neck — and like always, he had followed over the edge after her.

Her other fingers found her clit, smearing uneven circles, jolts of pleasure almost eclipsing the pain she felt. Small whimpers escaped her lips as she rutted against her fingers, wetness spreading, unable to stop the scream she felt building in her chest —

“That’s it.” Draco’s breath was uneven, his forehead pressed against the glass, trying to be as close as he could. “Fuck yourself open for me. I’ve got you.”

Her orgasm temporarily dulled the pain of emptiness and Hermione felt the fuzziness fade, slowly bleeding from her vision. Returning to herself, sweet clarity, only for a moment.

Draco was breathing heavily, kneeling in the snow.

It struck her, then, that he’d wait forever. Faithful and present, in the back garden. He belonged to her, just as much as she did to him — perhaps it wasn’t all bad, losing yourself. You gain someone else, in return.

Hermione tugged the back door open, flinching at the cold. “Come in.”

Draco was still kneeling, blinking up at her as if she were god, come to rejoin their creation.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a rough voice

“I am.” The snow was blowing in through her open door, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care. “I don’t want to run anymore.”

“You want me?”

“I’ve always wanted you.” The words left her lips on a broken sigh. “I’m just afraid. I don’t know what this means, who I become around you. But I know that I’m afraid that you’ll leave me.”

Draco smiled, soft and slow. “You’ve fed me, baby. I’ll always come back for more.”

“I want, so desperately, to be capable of love. To love and to be loved in return. And.” She felt her breath catch in her throat. “I’m afraid that I’ll find that with you.”

“You will.” He was kneeling before her, arms open, palms facing upwards. The picture of vulnerability, willing and waiting for her to accept him. To become present, to join in at the feast. “You’ll be loved in return, I promise.”

To unequivocally belong to another. The weight of her body, held up by his waiting hands.

“Please.” Begging, broken and crumbling before him. Like a grand ruin, left behind by time, suddenly being rediscovered. “Please, come inside.”

It was soft, the world. No sound, nothing mattered; just Draco, as he rose from the snow and crossed through her wards. His hands were cool and firm, cradling her jaw between his fingers. “I love you.” He said. “I’d love you even if you weren't mine.”

Hermione nodded, helplessly caught in his grasp. “I love you.” She breathed. “Even when I ran, I knew you’d follow. I knew you’d always come for me.”

A spasm of agony shot up her spine, twisting across her flesh. “It’s starting again.” Hermione groaned, flinching from the pain. “Draco, please —”

Draco’s fingers slid from her jaw to her throat. Holding her in place. “Shh,” He whispered along her hairline, tightening his grasp on her throat. “I know what you need, yeah? You’ll let me give it to you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you deserve it?”

“Excuse me?” She hissed.

“It’s a simple question, baby.” She could hear the humor in his voice, feel the thickness of his cock, pressing into her back. “Do you deserve it?”

Hermione bit his arm.

“Okay.” He looked down at her, soft and warm. “I was going to be nice. I was going to fuck you on your bed. Spread you open, make you all soft for me.” She whined around his flesh and he pouted sympathetically with her, lower lip protruding. “I know, I would’ve liked that, too. Seeing your pretty little cunt, all puffy and wet, spread out on the sheets before me.”

Hermione let him go, a traitorous drop of spit connecting her lips to his arm. “I like that idea.” She said thickly. “We can do that.”

“No.” Draco smoothed his fingers along the shallow flesh of her neck, thumb pressing down hard on her gland. “Now, I have to fuck you right here on the floor.”

Hermione debated sounding too desperate. Her dripping cunt won out, in the end. “I like that idea.” She said, squirming in his grasp. It wasn't fair that he was wearing clothing and she was naked, nor was it fair that he wasn't currently inside her, making a home for himself between her thighs. “We can do that.”

His fingers slipped between her thighs, sinking inside with ease. Two, then three, twisting her open, slick dripping down his hands, smearing across the cuff of his button down shirt. “Messy.” He mused softly to himself.

Kissing him was easy, like falling asleep. She remembered how it had been last time, soft and sweet — this time, it was brutal. Draco pressed her to the floor, climbing on top of her, crushing her with his larger frame. He kissed like she’d run away from him again — if this was how he’d greet her every time, perhaps she would.

“Inside, inside, inside.” Hermione was babbling against his lips, grabby fingers pushing at his slacks. “I need your cock inside me, please.”

“I should make you wait.” He groaned as he tugged his cock free, smearing it across the sticky wetness of her cunt. “I should torture you.”

“You can.” Hermione promised, shaking fingers wrapping around his cock, dragging it closer and closer to her entrance. “You can tie me up and fuck me for days, or hunt me in the woods, whatever you want, I promise. Just fuck me now, and I’ll give you everything — ”

The push of his cock was enough to start another tremble across her limbs, spreading through her as he fucked her open, shallow thrusts. His thumb heavy on her tongue, his other hand still wrapped around her throat.

“My girl deserves to be fucked whenever she wants.” He was whispering, teeth sharp against her ear. “You want to sit on my cock during a meeting? I’ll let you. I’ll have to kill everyone after, it’ll be terrible for business, but I’ll do it —”

Hermione gasped around his fingers. “Please,” she groaned. “I’ll be good. Please let me cum.”

Draco frowned. “Baby, it’s rude to talk with your mouth full.” She rolled her eyes, and his grip tightened slightly on her throat. “But I think you need me to fuck some sense into you.” His thrusts were deep and even, lulling her into a haze. Sticky and warm, caught in his trap. “You can’t run from me. I’ll always find what is mine.”

His cock was nudging a part inside her that had her breath catching in her throat, unable to stop the pleasure that was building. Twitching beneath him, breath tumbling from her lips in tiny gasps. Her vision blurred as she looked up at him, sharp teeth and soft eyes, watching her.

When he came, she felt the warmth spreading through her. Like sinking into a hot bath, syrupy and slow; his cock was swelling, locking them together, holding them in place.

Draco tilted his hips softly, still fucking her through his orgasm, fucking himself deeper. “One day.” He groaned, his cum slippery inside her, too much, beginning to drip out from between them. “One day, I’ll fuck a baby into you. And everyone will know how good of a mate I am, keeping you full and warm. They’ll know how perfect you are too, how good you are at making me cum —”

Just like before, Hermione craned her neck, teeth finding the tender flesh of his neck. She bit down where she had once before, on the mark he’d never hid from — bit until her mouth filled with blood, spilling from her blood, smearing across their bodies.

Draco moaned, latching onto her neck,biting the scared flesh until he drew blood, reclaiming her. “There.” He slurred, mouth messy and wet, cock still twitching inside her tummy. “We belong to one another.”

Twisting in his hold, Hermione smiled up at him.

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vallanoux · 3 months

Text

𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚. - 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝟒

ps: chapter 4! it's nearly 12 pages <3

The very next day, (name) walks out of her room, feeling groggy, but well-rested enough for another day. Similar to the night prior, she doesn’t let herself think too much about her situation, and rather focuses on the present. What she wished to be nothing more than just a made up dream was real. (name) (surname) really did get transmigrated into Hazbin Hotel after being killed by an insane fan.

A shiver crawls down her spine. (name) wraps her hands around herself and squeezes her forearms tight, “you can do this… just like always. You’re known to make the best improvisations when things go wrong on stage. This is- This is nothing different from a stage gone wrong, yeah?”

(name) forces herself to believe in what little confidence she has left, and knocks on Lucifer’s bedroom door. It takes him a while to respond.

“(name), is that you?” He calls, then, in a more hushed voice meant for only him to hear, he continues, “of course it would be… Who else would it be, you idiot?”

After turning into a.. bat human? Bat demon? Eh, not too sure, and not that it matters.. But.. all of (name)’s senses had improved far beyond that of an average human. What she normally wouldn’t have heard as a human, she could hear as clear as day.

“Yes, it’s me! You promised that you’d teach me more about my powers? Is it too early? I’ll go if you still want to be alone.”

“Teaching..? Powers..?” He confusedly mutters to himself. It takes him a while to realize what (name) was talking about. The brain fog that clogged his mind constantly deteriorated his memories, barely ever letting anything sit right and firm in his mind.

Then, the door bursts open, revealing the King of Hell bearing a bright grin on his face, “I remember!”

It broke (name)’s heart to see him happy over such a small thing as remembering. Under the stress of mental fatigue, day-to-day tasks that should have come by easily no longer did. The body, because of the mind, loses its innate ability to care for itself. With a hopeless overseer, what would push its dependents to work? Nothing. Nonetheless, she musters up an encouraging expression for Lucifer, “yes, you remembered. Thank you, Lucifer.”

Pleasantly surprised that (name) hadn’t questioned his poor memory, he excitedly grabs her hand and pulls her close. He uses his powers to teleport the both of them to the rooftop of his castle.

And, there it was again. Pressed up against him and so close to the crook of his neck, she smells it. The deliciously sweet scent of musk and cinnamon apple pie that would make anyone ravenous. Heat prods at the shell of her ears, painting them rosy in color.

When they arrived, the Broadway talent hurriedly got out of Lucifer’s grasp, “and here we are!”

“That must've been too close, sorry. I got a little too excited.” He dorkily rubs the back of his head. “It’s just been a while since I’ve gone flying––or taken anyone flying!”

“It happens.” (name) stares at the vast expanse of nothingness that stretches endlessly right outside of pentagram city. There was nothing but hard, sharp, rocky stones. “Is there really nothing out there?”

“Save for a few demons who try to find peace and quiet out there, not really. It’s not livable.” Lucifer explains. “Why, you want to go there?”

“Just curious, and... would you mind using some more of your magic? I’m only wearing a nightgown and it’s very, very chilly up here.” She shivers as a gust of wind blows past her. “And not to mention, a nightgown is very unideal for flight. I might flash people.”

Lucifer looked so disappointed in himself when (name) pointed both things out. He slumps and waves his apple scepter to change her outfit into something much more comfortable. “How could I forget again? There you go.”

“What matters is that you’ve actually done it when I asked,” she tilts her head and gives Lucifer a concerned expression. “You're giving yourself standards you’re bound to fail, and that’s healthy for no one. Not everyone can notice everything.”

“You’re right. It’s just that I used to be a lot more observant, is all.” He allows himself to remain downcast for a couple more seconds, then he lets himself brighten up if only just a bit. “It's because you're that much of an important guest to me. The first guest I’ve had in ages.”

“You’re already plenty good to me.” (name) lets her wings stretch out in the wind, enjoying the feeling of air slipping and gliding across her outstretched wings. “I’m satisfied, so you don’t have to worry about it in the future.”

The Broadway talent turns around and offers him a hand, “for now, teach me how to fly!”

Eagerly, he takes her hand and brings her right to the very edge of the castle’s pointed roof––it’s highest point. “The winds are a bit strong today. Maybe we shouldn’t learn this now? We can wait until the wind is steadier. What about we learn about your other powers instead?”

(name) lifts a hand and feels the strong breeze, “I’m new to this, so I have no clue what you’re talking about. But don’t they say it’s best to learn from difficulty? Pressure either makes or breaks you, and so far, I'd say it's made me.”

“You... have a point, but still, I'm worried. Though, you sound confident in yourself, so I'll trust you. You don’t mind if I touch your wings, right?” Lucifer maneuvers to her back.

“Nope, go ahead.” (name) shrugged.

“Well, these things tend to be very sensitive. Especially on the base.” His hands glide to the tips of (name)’s wings. He pats them down, keeping them neatly folded. “Don’t leave them open when you’re walking around, you’ll bump into things easily, and air resistance will make them feel heavier.”

She shivers at the sensation of his cool fingers tracing across her wings, fixing her posture. A purr rises up her throat, but she stops it right where it starts. She wouldn't allow herself to put on such an embarrassing display. I shouldn’t let anyone touch them freely in the future. That’s dangerous.

Unaware of the Broadway talent’s inner struggles, Lucifer continues on. “There are two ways to take off depending on where you need to fly from. Ground take offs require more effort, which is why we’ll learn them later. Taking off from higher grounds is easier since the winds are stronger. Stronger winds means you can catch them easily, and glide with them. It's common to start by jumping with your wings tucked, then when you feel enough wind pushing against you, you spread your wings wide to catch the wind. Since my wings are different from yours, I don’t know much about what happens after in the air. According to the texture of your wings, I'm sure to keep yourself flying, you'll have to flap them a lot more than me. My wings are good for gliding and long flights while yours are very agile and good for sharp turns."

“Woah, Professor Lucifer~” (name) teased him. “Getting into the zone, aren’t you? You're certainly very knowledgeable.”

Lucifer’s cheeks flush at her teasing. He giggles softly and averts his gaze, “well.. I used to teach the young ones how to fly way back when. They were very cute and fuzzy little things, like ducklings!”

“That’s very sweet of you,” (name) compliments. “Now I’m very confident that you won’t let anything bad happen to me. I’m in good hands.”

For some reason, at (name)'s bold statement, Lucifer’s disposition straightens, and his lighthearted tone irons to firmness, “trust me. Nothing will happen to you when I’m here.”

He falls into silence, so she takes the time to earnestly look into his eyes, and she sees that there’s something terribly wrong. A spark of a storm whirling in his eyes, that shined and for a brief moment, looked past (name) and everything behind her.

Before she could speak up on her concerns, he broke out of his inward dilemma and held out both hands for her to take, “take my hands, (name). I’ll show you how to fly.”

She takes his hands and looks at him, waiting for more instructions, “and?”

Lucifer lets his wings show, spreading from their furled state. “I’m going to create a gust of wind for you, and you try to catch it, okay?”

He flaps his wings and a strong gust of wind blows past her. (name) stretches her wings out, attempting to catch the wind as he said she would. It came by naturally to her, as if it was second nature. A bright grin breaks onto her lips, curling up and wide onto her features. Her eyes glinted with light, the brightest Lucifer had ever seen from her–– and dear, oh dear was it an addicting expression he wishes to see more often. Wishes to be the reason of.

“I’m doing it! I’m really doing it!” She cheers brightly, her now rounded, almost childlike (e/c) eyes held at attention with Lucifer's own yellow ones.

“Yes, yes you are.” He says with such tender endearment it makes (name) freeze.

She knew well enough to know that the endearment in his voice wasn’t directly addressed to her. Rather, to someone else he used to hold so dearly. Yet, to know that she made him feel such a glimpse of such a strong, positive emotion was enough to cause the small twinge of guilt in her chest to eat her alive.

As her focus was averted away from her wings, they were left open wide, blowing her back onto the roof and pulling Lucifer down along with her. Lucifer reacts quickly. He uses his wings and wraps them around (name) and himself tightly, securing her in a protective embrace. He also places his hand behind her head and presses her head to his chest to prevent any whiplash. Lucifer, bless his sweet soul, had secured her so well as that when impact hit, it felt completely painless to (name).

Still, from all the movement and spinning, her head spun in circles and made it so that it was hard to respond properly to Lucifer, whom immediately hoisted her up and began fussing over her, checking for injuries. He looked so frightened when he was checking her, as if he’d done something terribly, criminally wrong.

His eyes shift to the Broadway talent’s. His worry dies down, replaced by a little hint of anger and a lot of exasperation. He reaches to pinch her cheek and scolds her, “(name)? Why did you stop? That was a very dangerous thing for you to do! You don’t get distracted when you’re flying unless you want to fall and die, or at least experienced enough to recover from a nasty incident.”

He locks her gaze. (name), to her own regret, quips back before she could stop herself, “well, I wasn’t the only one who was distracted.”

Her eyes widen and she immediately apologizes, “sorry, I didn’t mean that at all.”

Rather than the angered response she was expecting, Lucifer looks downcast and forlorn. “You’re right. I was stuck reliving some memories I should’ve let go by now. You’re not––you’re not who I wished you were, and it’s wrong for me to treat you like someone else just because you’re similar. It must’ve been off-putting to have someone you hardly know stare at you like that.”

His gaze meets (name)’s again, “but that still doesn’t change that you almost hurt yourself, you know?”

“I know, Lucifer. I let it get to me a bit too much.” (name) admits. “I”m sorry, for the person you lost.. Whoever it was.”

Although I already know who and why... Heaven, Lilith, Eve... how could you do this to him?

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I appreciate it. More than you know.”

“Are you this nice to me because I remind you of that person? Because if that’s the case... It’d be hard accepting what isn’t mine.” Although (name) knew her words could completely stop all the good will she would be receiving from Lucifer, it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t bear the guilt of fooling someone so extraordinarily kind like Lucifer. Like I did before…

“No, I genuinely care for you, (name).” He shakes his head. “I care for you since you’re my… first friend in decades. We’re friends, right..?”

(name) couldn’t deny the hopeful shine in his eyes, “yes, my very first friend in Hell.”

Lucifer, at that point, was nothing but sparkles and rainbows. He gives a cheer and squishes her in a very, very tight hug whilst rubbing his cheek against (name)’s. So soft.. And so very squishy.

Taking her chance, she whispered into Lucifer’s ear, "as someone with issues letting go of the past, I get you. But don’t let it eat you alive. Don’t make that mistake. Because that's what.. Landed me here. At least, I’d assume so.”

For the first time in years, (name) lets the mask fall if only for a moment; the thin veil gone, and the performance was put on break. (name) never wanted to admit it, but her career as one of the most prestigious Broadway talents had devoured her whole. Took her heart, ate it on a silver platter, shit it out and forced it right back into her mouth for her to swallow and choke on in one endless, insufferable cycle. Most her life had been nothing but a comfortable lie.

The very next second, she finds herself laughing, because really, how ironic was it that the first time she chose to be honest wasn’t when she was alive, but rather dead in Hell, and to the King of Hell himself? Who, like her, was burdened far more by his past than he would ever show.

“I’m not laughing because it’s funny. More so that I haven’t been this honest in ages.” (name)'s laugh mellows down. “It’s a nice feeling.”

“I’m glad you feel as if I’m someone you can be honest around,” Lucifer mumbles gently as he pats her back. “I try not to think about it, but it ends up being a double-edged sword since I hardly remember anything.”

“I’m sorry,” (name) whispers back. There was nothing she herself could do to change the situation, or make it any better. All she can give is a well-natured, earnest wish. “I hope it gets better.”

“It just might,” he pulls away and steals a glance at (name). “Why don’t we move on and try flying practice again? Or are you feeling unwell after the fall?”

“No, you’re right. Let’s not sour the mood.” (name) tries to get up, but right before she does lift herself, she realizes that she was in a rather precarious position with Lucifer. “Um.. Lucifer?”

She steals a glance at his wings that were still tightly wrapped around her to give him a hint. It takes a while for Lucifer to realize, but once he does... the poor man combusts. His entire face was now a similar color to his natural red circular accents on his cheek. In (name)’s fair opinion, it was absolutely adorable to see him turn all red and blushy. Really, the cutest, most adorable sight.

(name) laughs at Lucifer, who looks like he’s on the verge of fainting from embarrassment. Her laughter probes him to unwrap his wings and scramble off of her. However, still a true gentleman by nature, he offers her a hand with his gaze turned away, too flustered to look directly at into her eyes.

She takes his hand with a grin as he helps her up, “let’s practice flying, shall we?”

She only holds his hand for a brief moment before letting go. She then rushes to the top of the roof, leaving Lucifer behind, and before he could stop her, she jumps off with a large, taunting grin on her face.

“Catch me if you can!” The Broadway talent calls as she dives off the tallest point of the castle, with her wings tucked in to increase the speed of her fall.

“(name)!” Lucifer was quick on his feet, immediatley rushing off the tower and jumping after her.

His wings furl around him, and he holds an outstretched hand to catch her. His eyes narrowed, brows knitted together and his smile pressed into a thin, almost downward line, solely focussed on saving (name). And, right before she would be pierced by a large, pointed rock that would have definitely made a skewer out of her, Lucifer swoops her into his arms.

“You’re seriously the most reckless person I know! Why would you do that?” Lucifer was reasonably extremely angered.

“Because no matter what, I knew you’d catch me.” She holds his gaze with more certainty and confidence than she’s ever worn her entire life.

What looked to Lucifer as a purely reckless decision on (name)’s part was instead a purely calculated move performed by the Broadway talent meant to create this very scene––meant to reinvigorate Lucifer’s faith in himself that he could indeed protect what was important.

Struggling to find it in himself to stay angry, the corners of his lips twitch upward, “I’ll catch you, always. No matter how many times you fall.”

The fruits of both Lucifer and (name)’s labor proved to be fruitful. After (name)’s “reckless” trust fall, as Lucifer called it, she was able to properly learn how to fly.

“I’m so proud of you! You’re a natural flier for sure,” Lucifer had a cute, dopey smile on his face that egged (name)’s urges to pinch his cheeks. She looks away to refrain herself from doing as such.

“What can I say? It must be my bat instincts kicking in.” She bites into the food plated right in front of her.

The pair, noticing that it had gotten quite late, returned to the castle for dinner. That day, from morning until late, had been filled with nothing but flying, obviously tiring out (name). On the other hand, Lucifer claimed to be completely full and surprisingly, energized.

“Demons don’t need to eat. I’m curious why you’re hungry, actually.” He gazes at her plate with interest. “But what you cooked definitely looks delicious.”

“Because it is delicious.” (name) proudly grins. “A recipe my friend shared with me back from Earth.”

“Ah, how wonderful,” he rests his chin on his hands, keeping his attention on me. “Do you also want to learn about your other powers today? Or another?”

“No, today is good. It’d be nice to get everything out of the way first. But.. How are we going to do that? Aren’t my powers just something I figure out along the way? I heard experiencing mentally stressful situations would urge someone to figure out their powers. That’s what the book said in the library!”

“The book isn’t wrong,” Lucifer nervously chuckles. “But it is oddly a very scary way to find out your own powers. Instead, I can just do it for you with my magic.”

“Wait, really? You can do that?” She looks at Lucifer with big eyes.

“(name), you seem to forget that it’s the King of Hell you’re talking to. Of course I can do it!” He crosses his arms and puffs his chest proudly.

You literally can’t blame me. You’re so dorky, so cute, so squishy, so mushy, so AAAA- (name) takes a deep breath to stop her inner dialogue and to mask her rather questionable thoughts, she stuffs her face with more of her own cooking.

“Well, you don’t exactly radiate that energy, do you? You’re very cute.”

“M- Me? I’m cute?”

“Totally.”

Lucifer takes off his hat and buries his face in it, letting out muffled whines, “you can’t say that to me!”

“But I can.” (name) leans in closer. “Cause you’re my friend now.”

“I regret it already.” He groans.

“Aww, no you love me.” She coos in return, which causes Lucifer to bury his head further into his hat. The poor snake that was wrapped around his hat slithered off, questioningly booping Lucifer to see if he was alright. “See? My point stands both here and in court.”

“Aghhh!” Lucifer slumps and completely goes still.

(name) looked at him with a raised brow, “you good?”

“Fine..” He manages to get out. He straightens his back and wears his hat again, finished recollecting himself. “Just give me your hand and I can already tell what type of magic you have.”

Thinking nothing of it, the Broadway talent reaches her hand over the table. What she least expected to happen, happened. Lucifer takes her hand and intertwined his fingers in between hers, pressed his palm against her own and gently squeezed her hand. He proceeds to pull her closer to himself.

“Two can play at this game.” He looks at me with a half lidded gaze, the edges of his lips curled up into a devious, taunting smirk.

“Oh, you devil.” (name) lifts up her other hand to hide her face and casts her glance aside.

“I quite literally am, amicus meus,” he giggles and he gives my hand another squeeze, which he proceeds to let go seconds after. “Okay, I know your powers now.”

“Really? You weren’t.. completely messing around?” (name) lifts her gaze cautiously, afraid she’d be duped again.

“Really. And by the looks of it, you have interesting powers! Much like that of a demon.. So it almost makes me wonder more than anything else how you even have divinity in you in the first place. And it’s even more curious that you don’t know the answer-”

(name) finds Lucifer’s tendency to ramble extremely endearing. She waits until he finishes before she says her piece, “I know, it’s a little weird. Though, could you tell me about my powers, please? I’m curious”

“Oh, right! That! So, to sum it up, you should have all the powers of a bat. Like echo-location, night vision and the like. I’m also quite surprised to see this since most demons don’t have magic, but you do. Get well acquainted with shadows, (name). I’m certain you won’t regret it.”

“Shadows?” (name) curiously tilts her head.

“It seems to me that you can hide in them and communicate? I’m not quite sure how the latter half works since shadows aren’t sentient, but I’m sure you’ll figure that bit out by yourself. You’re a smart person.” Lucifer gives an expectant smile. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. Thanks Lucifer.” (name) nods her head in understanding.

She finishes the last bits of food and takes the emptied plate. Lucifer gives her a questioning look, “what are you doing?”

“Cleaning the plate..?”

“I can just do that with magic.”

“Oh.” She sets the place down. “Then could you please..?”

“Sure thing.” With a wave of his adorable apple scepter, the plate is now out of sight. He taps the table and he straightens up as a new thought pops up in his head, “we should get you some clothes, (name)! Let’s go shopping tomorrow?”

“And with what money?” The Broadway talent raises a brow, giving Lucifer an odd look.

“My money! Again, being friends with the King of Hell has its benefits~” he says in a sing-song tone of voice as he flashes me another charming smirk. “I have wealth and connections.”

“If you say so,” (name) returns an exasperated but grateful glance. “I’ll go test out my powers now, so I’ll see you next thing in the morning?”

“Yep, I’ll just jot it down so I remember.” Lucifer approaches her and looks at her expectantly.

“Yes?” (name) raises a brow.

“A goodnight hug.” Lucifer goes on his tiptoes and pulls (name) into a tight, warm hug. “From a friend, to a friend.”

She buries her face in the crook of his neck and gives him a quick tight squeeze before pulling away. I could never get used to your warmth, Lucifer. But it means more to me than you’ll ever know.

“Yes, from a friend to a friend.”

11.7 pages

4,094 words

status: edited

Notes:

i don't know why, but i sort of headcannon luci speaking latin? also GUYSSS LUCI KNOWS HE'S HOTTTT!!! LOOK AT THIS SHOT FROM EP. 8!!!

next chapter is luci's pov

#lucifer magne x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x reader x lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #alastor #radio demon #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader

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