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#honestly at this point he’s got so many names I don’t know how to tag these posts

fictioonbanger · 10 months

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race car driver eren<3!

warnings?; smut obvi, hint of jealousy.

speedracer!eren; who loves driving you around in his all black srt hellcat, has a personal “y/n’s seat” tag in pink glitter on the bottom side of the passenger seat. “baby you didn’t..” you looked back at eren who stood behind you with a huge smirk on his face staring down at you, waiting for your reaction. he was so proud in himself he knew you’d love it. you were hugging him tightly placing soft wet kisses onto his neck. “you like it pretty? got it in pink for ya..” he groaned from under his deep voice as you kissed his chin and adams apple. feeling the vibration of his voice he spoke on your lips as you smirked to look up at him. “mm it’s beautiful my love, i love it.“ you couldn’t help but feel so giddy at erens actions he loved you.. he loved you as much as he did his precious car.

speedracer!eren; who got in trouble with you for driving so fast after his racing match taking you both home, still pumped up on adrenaline. “eren you hit this corner hard so god help me.” you said sternly looking at him, you hated when he drove fast. eren would think your being over dramatic everytime you told him to slow down. to him he doesn’t think he’s going fast.. but i mean obviously is. “mm yeah beautiful.” he’d hum and stare at your pouted glossed lips giving them a long warm peck as he leaned over the arm rest to your seat. “no, im serious ren, ‘hate that shit.” you didn’t react to his kiss and still kept stern. “aight yea baby i heard you..’m sorry y’know i don’t mean to.” he placed another kiss on your pouted lips that you eventually gave into. you hated when he raced also, i mean at a point it was too much and everytime you’d watch and support him from the side line your stomach would bubble and ache. every hard turn he took, the tumbling of the other cars on the side of him from getting hit by another, the anticipation waiting to see your husband cross the finish line and seeing the green flag wave so highly. the relief and squeal you would let out seeing him catch first place.

speedracer!eren; who proposed to you after he won his first game 4 years ago, you’d been dating him before his racing career. supporting him all the way with every decision he made, being by his side in moments of need.. vice versa. you’re his high school sweetheart, you’re his day one. eren loved showing you off, letting everyone know you’re his, will forever be and only. he took you to car shows that everyone expected you to be at, having you in the car of course as he showed out to everyone. driving circles with his driver friends who were right behind him shouting from their cars to the other people in the circle crowd. you deep down had a little hatred for the shows, you hadn’t honestly realized how many women loved your man. screaming his name from the crowd, trying to walk up towards him for a autograph, batting their lashes at him to get his attention at his conferences. eren tried to act like he didn’t notice, he did, but he didn’t notice your attitude towards it.

speedracer!eren; “don’t act like you didn’t notice how close she was trying to get to you, not to mention she SAT her hand on your shoulder while laughing.” you huffed out to eren after the dinner with some friends and employees at the racing center while he was driving home. all he could do was chuckle, that’s all he ever did when you complained. you hated it , it was like eren never took you seriously. after your words you sat quiet in the car as he drove, nothing but the sound of the car revving. “why you bein so quiet?” eren turned his head towards you eyebrows furrowed scanning your every move as you sat there with crossed arms, looking out the window, your signature move. eren didn’t answer you for a reason, he didn’t understand why you were jealous. he never paid attention to anyone else, especially any other woman. why should you feel like someone could ever take your spot? he knew what you were feeling and your feelings were oh so understandable. he just couldn’t have you thinking like that, he sighed and drove the whole way silent. you’d occasionally glance at him gripping the wheel and starring ahead of him not saying a word.

speedracer!eren; who finally got you both home, opening the car door for you and walking behind you silently into your shared home. you sighed and rolled your eyes at his silence and dropped your purse onto the counter walking towards your shared room. you were stopped and taken aback a bit by the force that slightly shoved you into the wall. eren had you put between both him and the cold wall behind you looking down at your eyes. his green orbs piercing into your own, like he was scanning your face all over again for the first time. “r-ren? what’re you doing?!” you said in a confused and honestly irritated tone looking back up at him waiting for a answer. he didn’t reply just tilting his head and raising his eyebrow at the way you spoke to him. he didn’t like when you were mad at him, especially for something he didn’t do. it wasn’t intentional of letting the woman touch and flirt with him. he just ignored it and didn’t care like the usual, his attention was fully forged on you the entire time anyway. “who you talking to like that?” he was searching for a answer out of you. the scowl look on your face and you hurriedly crossing your arms made eren roll his eyes. he knew you were upset about the situation but what could he do? “you! ren! now move please..i need to get in the showe-“ eren scoffed hearing you speak, and grabbed your wrist before turning towards the room. you were so confused of the sudden movements but followed behind.

speedracer!eren; who fucked you all night, having you recite how much you meant to him. “you’re daddies only girl right? nobody could replace you y/n.” he mumbled the last words while looking down at where you two were connected. the white ring forming from the last orgasm you had and his pre cum mixing, he was groaning from the sight and landed a hard smack to your ass to wake you up from your last orgasm. you were face into the pillow and yelped from the contact letting out a accidental moan at the stinging feeling. “stay up f’ me pretty..need you awake baby, wanna hear you repeat it.” eren spoke softly sliding in and out of you effortlessly. hitting your soft spongy spot over and over making a whimper leave your lips with every thrust into you. “mm yeah i’m daddies only g-girl! fuck!” your eyes rolled in the back of your head as you spoke and moaned your words. eren smirked hearing your words and decided to stop finally teasing and get you your last nut. thrusting faster, gripping tighter on your waist slamming you back onto his dick, and fucking into you. eren was a groaning mess and his thrust started to recklessly come on as he was finna nut. “cum with me pretty please baby, just wanna make you feel g-good..fuck.” eren plead out a breathy moan as he tilted his head, thrust sputtering as hot stream’s of cum swarmed your tummy. you came on his dick, gripping onto the sheets below you, eyes shutting tightly as you continued to still throw back on him to finish your nut. eren was gripping your waist tightly, biting his bottom lip and whimpering as he continued to release into your tight cunt. snapping his hips into you more as he drained himself into you. you were gripping him, literally milking his dick. eren sat with a half open mouth as he finished and groaned. setting his forehead on your shoulder from behind you, panting and rubbing up your back with a warm hand. he placed soft kisses onto the crook of your neck and back. “stop thinking you got competition with these bitches y/n, they could never be you baby. let alone breathe the same air as you my love..” eren mumbled into your shoulder as you both came down from your high. you were tired and fucked out but you listened to every word he spoke. you shouldn’t be jealous, eren was wrapped around your finger as you were of him.

#black reader #black y/n #eren x y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #eren smut #eren jeager smut #eren jaeger #eren x you #eren x black fem!reader #eren x reader #eren headcanons #eren yeager

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s0ulryo · 1 year

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König with a Medic S/O Scenario *:･ﾟ

[König x Reader] Synopsis: König getting patched up by his favorite medic —you. Tags: Soft, konig lovers we rise, established relationship (i forget to put this tag on a ton of things whoops), mentions of distress (?) Notes: Prolly ooc, not proofread, his voice is so mmmmm, also my brain blanked so many times while writing this so im vv sorry for the wonky formatting

Thank you @uselsshuman for letting me write about this!

(Reader is always gn unless specified otherwise.)

König dislikes a lot of things. He wouldn’t say he hates anything but the list of dislikes has grown over the years. For example, König dislikes crowded places, the smell of cigarettes, getting injured, having to go to a medic to treat his injury, having to see you — who is a medic to treat his injury, having to get chewed out by you for obtaining an injury — you get the point.

So here he sits, listening to you freak out about the injury he obtained while being deployed. He knows you don’t mean any harm by it; you’re just concerned for his safety — König appreciates it, he really does — but he’s also a little stressed out by your current commentary.

“Oh my God — König, how the hell did you manage to do this?”

He honestly doesn’t think it’s that bad; sure, the wound looks terrible — but it doesn’t feel too horrible, so it can’t be too bad, right?

Wrong.

“König, are you listening to me? König, are you alright?”

König’s very thankful for you. He thinks you’re awfully nice and very understanding about his feelings, and in all honesty, he’s not sure how he managed to get with someone like you, but he’s not going to question it — he’s just going to enjoy it.

“Sorry, could you repeat what you just said?” König mumbles out sheepishly.

He can’t help it. You’re exceptionally attractive, and König now realizes his arm is in an exceptional amount of pain — and bleeding tremendously. ‘Things like attractive S/O and immense amounts of pain due to physical injury usually make it difficult to focus,’ he reasons to himself.

Sighing, you shake your head. “König, please try to avoid getting injured — this is the second time this week….”

Nodding softly in acknowledgment, König continues to watch you gather the supplies you need to patch his arm up; his eyes flicker around in discomfort, bouncing his leg up and down to keep his mind occupied. Sure he’s sustained worse injuries than this, but getting patched up has always made him anxious.

Swallowing thickly, König tries to place himself out of this situation – somewhere nicer than your medical workspace that smells like antiseptic – anywhere else than here.

He watches you set to work, his eyes closely following the movement of your hands on his arm, cleaning the wound gently, trying to make the process quicker and easier on him.

He’s vaguely aware that his breathing got heavier or how he’s feeling light headed, heart in his throat – vaguely aware that you’re calling his name.

“…ig” “…önig”

He can see you talking, but he can’t hear you very well; bouncing his leg more rapidly, he tries to say anything to tell you how he feels, but he can’t get any words out.

“..ey…hey big guy – look, I’m here, you’re alright – okay?” You try to get him to focus on you, not necessarily your words but just on you.

"Try to take a big breath, big guy – yeah, just like that – breathe in, breathe out…You're doing great König.”

Following your instructions König (tries) to take a deep breath in and out, focusing on what you smell like and your voice. König feels a little stupid, he’s gotten shot – almost killed before, but he can’t take a little doctor's visit? So yeah, it's definitely a critical hit on his ego; he’s just glad it’s you with him.

After calming down a bit König bites the inside of his cheek, diverting his eyes to the door to the far left of the room. He considers bolting out of your office – he won’t have to get patched up, and he won't have to face you, so it’s a win-win situation—

“König dear, don’t try to run out of the room,” you tell him firmly, more so for you than for him – if he decides to make a hasty exit, you conclude that you would not be able to catch the injured man.

“…Am I that obvious [Name]?”

“Yes, dear…You are pretty obvious.”

The silence in the room was deafening, not super awkward – just a bit tense.

König sighs, visibly deflating in his chair; he mutters an apology, watching your figure look in the bottom drawer of your desk. He feels like he’s back in primary school when kids would make fun of him, leaving him all embarrassed.

Well, in this situation, he feels more ashamed than embarrassed.

He continues to watch you shuffle through the drawer until you find what you were looking for – suddenly, you turn to him, smiling triumphantly, motioning for him to stick out his hand to take what you were holding.

“What is it [Name]?” König asks, reaching out for the unknown object in your hand.

Upon further examination, König realizes the object is made of solid metal and cylindrical – resembling a car transmission.

“It’s a fidget toy! I like that one personally because I like the feeling of the transmission shifting gears – but I have some other ones if you would like.”

König stares at you dumbfounded. Diverting his eyes to the small toy in his hand, he starts to mess with it.

“König, I’m going to continue patching you up, alright? Please let me know if you need anything….”

Nodding, he continues to mess with the toy in his hand, gnawing at his bottom lip to suppress a smile.

König, a man that stands at six foot ten inches, just received a fidget toy from his medic S/O – how could he not smile?

“König, I’m done cleaning the wound, but you’ll need some stitches, alright? I’ll try to make this as quick as possible.”

König continues to watch you work while shifting the fidget toy from first gear to sixth gear, grateful for the newfound distraction from the distressing environment he’s currently in. He’s also immensely thankful that you are walking him through everything you do – even though he’s not entirely listening.

“Finished! All patched up, big guy – how are you feeling?” You say, tying off the final stitch on König’s arm.

“Better – I feel better,” König says, fumbling with his words, speaking with such haste, appearing as if you caught him off guard.

“Great, I’ll write down the care instructions for your stitches, so you don’t forget – come back here in two-ish weeks to remove the stitches, alright?

Standing up, he shyly extends his hand out to you, offering to return the toy you graciously lent him.

“Oh, you can keep that big guy – you seem to like it…So you can have it.”

König stares at you dumbfounded again, shifting his gaze from you to the small toy in his hand, back to you.

“…You sure?” König asks you quietly.

“Positive.” You respond, pushing his extended hand back towards him. “I want you to have it.”

König thinks he’s going to combust.

His awfully nice, exceptionally attractive S/O just watched him break down, patched him up, and gave him a gift. He’s not sure what he has ever done to be treated with such care, but if he thinks about it any longer, he might start to cry.

Bending down, he mutters a ‘thank you’ into your neck, tightly wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“König..?” He hears you say softly, “Can we stay like this for a while..?”

Humming in approval, he pulls you closer to him, slightly swaying side to side, putting more of his weight on your body to keep you in place.

You don’t know what injuries König will acquire the next time he’s deployed, but for now, your mind is here – at this moment, with König holding you in his embrace and the steady beating of his heart proving that he’s alive and that he loves you.

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blainesebastian · 4 months

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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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jflemings · 20 days

Note

would you minds sharing any random jessie relationship headcanons you have? you write about it so well in your fics pls let us into your brain lol

— my oddly specific gf!jessie headcanons

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

warnings: nsfw & saw

a/n: got this ask and kept it in the drafts so i could just keep adding to it when a thought popped into my head :)

if any of my headcanons inspire fics please please please tag me!!! i’d love to see your take on them <3

- took soooooooo long to ask you out because she kept psyching herself out

- spoke with such confidence that it was honestly a shock to you when she told you she was nervous

- talked about you all the time to her friends and family before they ever actually met you

- introduces you to her sister before the rest of her family (mainly bc elysse begged to meet you)

– she has tiktok only so you can send her videos and you’re the only one she follows

– she takes soooo many photos of you

loves taking embarrassing ones just so she can laugh at them later

– sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door

– is an absolute pain in the ass to go furniture shopping w because she reads everything on the label

– early bird

– not super big on pda but insists on holding your hand everywhere you go

– she doesn’t really celebrate her goals but if she knows you’re in the crowd she’ll point to wherever you’re sitting and blow you a kiss

– if you get married she gets your first initial tattooed on her inner left bicep closest to her heart

– easily embarrassed by compliments

– likes to read her book with your head in her lap

– makes the best bacon and eggs, i don’t make the rules

– if you drink coffee you can bet your ass she memorised your order the first time y’all went out for coffee

– super clingy in the mornings

– makes a playlist of songs that reminds her of you/your relationship

– very attentive gift giver, will take note of even the smallest things you say you like for future reference

– if you’re a reader she’s got your tbr in her notes app so that if she sees a book you’ve been meaning to read she can just get it for you

– likes to give and receive flowers

– a rambler, she’ll talk your ear off if she gets talking about something she really enjoys

that includes you, she talks about you to her teammates all the time

– secret avid pet name user

babe, baby, my girl, sunshine, ALL OF THEM

- blanket hog

- the two of you make a pact to learn something new by the end of the year and she chooses to learn how to play the fucking harmonica

- she gets rlly good at it tho

- picks out your outfit for game days

- loves having baths with you

doesn’t get to do it often but when she does she goes all out: bath bomb/bath salts, candles, her kindle. the whole lot

- talks during movies if she doesn’t know what’s going on

“why’d he do that” “jess i don’t know, we’re watching the same movie”

- not a big tv series watcher but will sit with you while you watch it

- loves her documentaries though

- does a really good david attenborough impression

- is ridiculously competitive when it comes to monopoly and twister

- which is funny because she’s shit at twister

- likes to be close to you at all times

if the whole couch is free she’ll still sit next to you, thigh to thigh

- doesn’t like to argue but will if she feels strongly enough about it

- she can honestly be kinda condescending in arguments without even realising it

definitely comes from her role as a leader

- she asks you multiple times through the day what you’re thinking about just because she likes to know what’s going on inside you head

- likes to do normal, everyday things with you like chores. honestly doesn’t even care that she has to vacuum the whole house, she just likes that fact that the two of you are cleaning together

- as clingy as she is she also really likes her alone time and will often take herself to a corner of the house to just mellow out, especially if she’s been around people a lot that day

- she’ll always come and find you with a smile on her face when she’s ready to though

- loves to update you on her day when she’s away. she’s been known to send you photos of anything and everything when she’s with team canada

- likes to get you lil something from every city she visits if she can

- you display all the trinkets she gets you on a shelf

- when you first started dating she’d write you letters as a way to express her emotions because she didn’t feel like she could properly communicate them directly to you

she gives them all to you on your wedding day

- she’s just so so so so in love with you

NSFW

– generally soft during sex unless she’s high off a win, pissed off or been away from you for too long

– is a switch lol

– gets pleasure from you being pleasured, she’d eat you out for hours if you let her because she likes knowing that she can get you off

- also a biiiiiiiiiiiiig fan of using a strap, absolutely loves the way you look when she bottoms out

- is surprisingly vocal in bed

- has a massive praise kink it’s literally insane

- she came untouched once bc she was fucking you w her strap and you were telling her how good she was doing

- likes when you scratch down her back but can’t let you do it often bc of the shared change room

- once went to training with a scratched up back and sam never let her live it down

- isn’t super experienced but she is observant so she figures out what you like really early on

- made it her personal mission to fuck you on every surface of your new place when the two of you moved to portland

- is a big fan of morning sex

- not a big fan of shower sex

- also is a fan of make up sex

- tries to give you as many orgasms as physically possible in one round (four is her record) (she intends to beat it)

- aftercare queen

- is pretty firm with what she does and doesn’t like and isn’t usually one to go out of her comfort zone unless the two of you have discussed it before

- refuses to hit you during sex. she’s just not comfortable with it

- doesn’t really like choking either but she does like having her hand on the base of your neck without applying any pressure

also goes absolutely feral when you do it to her

- definitely prefers to have sex in the comfort of your own home

- the two of you got caught by niamh once because jess was too loud as you ate her out

neither of you could look her in the eye for about a week afterwards and jessie endured so much teasing

- isn’t one to have drunk sex but she does like just having her hands under your bra so she can cup your breasts. she doesn’t know why, it just happens when the two of you are going to bed after a night out

- is the biggest tease in the world

- will rile you up and then pretend she has no idea what she’s doing

- has insane stamina and will go for rounds until she physically can’t

- can get really cocky during sex, especially when she knows you’re about to cum

- if she’s had a really shit day/week she likes to be overstimulated just to get all of her negative emotions out

#pegs answers #jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming headcanons #jessie fleming blurb #woso #woso x reader #woso blurb #woso imagine #woso fic #woso headcanons

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teatoptony · 2 months

Text

The Same Boat

ask; hi sorry if this is too much detail but a request for reader the same age as Luke and joins the camp at around 16-17 but they had a really nice life before joining camp half blood and really hates the camp because she deeply misses her friends and boyfriends and girlfriends, and it takes place when she’s first joining and she points out to Luke how terrible the system is and they bond over being really angry about the gods. thank u!!!

pairing(s); luke castellan x gn!reader (romantic or platonic, not exactly specified but leaning more towards platonic)

warning(s); daddy issues ig

a/n; i changed the story a lil bit so that the reader didn’t just get to camp, but got there a little bit ago and was given a quest which ended a lil bit before the fic starts, hope u don’t mind. pre-lightning thief. i had ares in mind as reader’s gp but it’s not specified, i did refer to them as a dad and their mortal parent as a mom though

it’s been a while since i’ve read the books and i personally never got the luke hype so sorry if it’s a little ooc, also a bit short. had book luke in mind while writing but could be read for book or series luke ig if you ignore minor physical descriptions

art credits(left to right); velinxi, velinxi, frostbite studios

You had never known who your godly parent was.

You’d always assumed it was one of the minor gods, since the satyr assigned to your school hadn’t sought you out until you were old enough to drive. Either that or you just weren’t ‘gifted’ enough to garner much attention. You didn't know which you preferred.

In a way, it didn’t really matter. No one claimed you anyway, so you spent the first couple weeks of your stay at Camp Half-Blood — a very inconspicuous name, by the way — in cabin eleven, the Hermes Cabin.

It was a rough adjustment. You were resentful of this new world; a world of gods and monsters and magic and so many weird stories that made it hard to keep track of every twist and turn and easy to offend whichever god whose myths or name you got confused. You felt like someone was watching you at all times. Or would it be the opposite, since your godly parent clearly didn’t care enough to claim you as their own?

It didn’t help much when you were assigned a quest, either. Or rather, one of your friends were.

Austin Lake, a child of Apollo, was tasked to retrieve his father’s lyre from a forest — not just any forest, no, the Grove of Demeter. Or at least, a recreation of it, anyway. According to Austin, Demeter had banned his father from ever entering the Grove again when he’d had a little too much ‘fun’ with one of the wood nymphs there, so he needed his son to go fetch his lost toy.

Bit derogatory, you thought. We’ve been reduced to well-trained dogs.

Still, you tagged along.

There were a couple hiccups along the way, which you were told were par for the course by Chiron, who welcomed you back rather dismissively once you returned. Normally, you would’ve been offended. I mean, you get back from a not-so-semi life threatening outing, and all you get is a halfhearted pat on the back? Honestly.

But you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care. Not today.

You sat on the hillside as you watched the sunset. Wind carried the sweet scent of ripe strawberries from the fields along with the smell of dirt and other greenery as the grass beneath you swayed in the breeze. The blades tickled your skin as you basked in the calm silence of everything — something fairly unusual for this place, as far as you could tell from your stay so far.

You, however, did not feel calm. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your feelings toward the world of Greek mythology hadn’t been good in the first place, to say the least; you’d had to practically abandon any and all traces of your life back home in order to get here since you’d been discovered so late. You missed your friends (whom you assumed would be worried sick by now, since cell service was pretty much nonexistent here and you’d only been able to contact a few of them via post), and you missed the taste of actual junk food that came from cans and bags. You even missed school, as boring and hellish as it was. At least it offered a sense of normalcy that you so desperately needed right about now.

“Room for one more?” A voice asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Luke standing beside the pine on top of the hill, a Coca Cola in either hand. There was a small smile on his lips as he said, “I brought drinks.”

You smiled back at him, mostly out of courtesy but also at his offer. It was as if he'd read your mind. “Sure, if you want.”

Luke strolled down to sit beside you, handing you one of the fizzy drinks and popping his own. The can was pleasantly cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the harsh sunlight hitting your skin. “Thanks.” You muttered, taking the soda with a grateful look.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “We keep a secret stash of six-packs in the kitchen for special occasions. The harpies are pretty easy to bribe.”

Silence settled between the two of you as you sipped on your drinks. You stared straight ahead as you did before, but now you caught glimpses of Luke’s sandy blond hair out of the corner of your eye.

It was… awkward.

Luke had always been a bit of a mystery for you. Sure, you saw him as a friendly guy, and he had been nice to you ever since your first day here, but you noticed little details the younger or happier campers didn’t.

He never really liked talking about his father, Hermes, despite having been claimed almost as soon as he got to Camp. Okay, maybe that was fair, since he had to deal with loads of hopeful, undetermined campers asking him when they would be claimed, too.

‘Oh, I was claimed the minute I got here. But since your godly parent didn’t claim you yet, I guess they just don’t care about you.’

Yeah, not a great thing to tell a twelve-year-old.

Luke was also pretty closed off in general. He was an easy guy to make friends with, sure. But other than surface-level stuff like what color he likes or which Camp activities were his favorite, only one or two people knew much of anything about his personal life. Which was to say, his life before coming here, since it’d be pretty hard to have a ‘personal life’ when you lived in cabin eleven year-round.

You remembered the night before you took off for the quest. Luke’s face illuminated by flames as he burnt his nightly offerings with the rest of the camp, his expression one you could still clearly picture. A mellow bitterness — something kept suppressed for years, stacking and stacking and never getting cleaned out, building like dust and cobwebs on top of an old dresser. It was a face you assumed you'd wear eventually, too.

And that wasn’t even mentioning all the time he spent in the arena. His swordsmanship was the definition of textbook when he was training other campers, but it was a whole different story if you happened to stumble across him practicing on dummies in his spare time. His swings were quick and precise, as usual. However, there was an almost brutal quality to him as he maimed the dummy, slashing it as if it'd slaughtered his entire family.

Not that it would be that weird if the dummy had actually murdered them, Greek mythology and all.

Anyway.

“So...” Luke started. Then he must've realized he didn't really know what to say. He stared straight ahead and tapped his finger on his knee.

“So...” You repeated. You could tell he had something to say to you, he just didn't know the best way to go about it. After all, who would waste contraband on someone they didn't really know if it wasn't to sweeten them up before asking a favor? “..Did you need something?”

Luke opened his mouth, but hesitated before saying anything. “Actually.. yeah.”

See? No one's that nice.

“I kinda heard what happened,” He continued. You picked at the tab of your can, avoiding eye contact. Of course he knew. Something like that can't exactly stay a secret for long in a place like this. “I overheard Austin talking to Chiron about it?”

Well, fuck him then.

“He mentioned you wanna keep it on the down-low, so, your secret's safe with me.” He quickly added, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Oh, um...” You didn't really know what to say to that. It was bound to get out eventually, so it was the sentiment that mattered, you guessed. “Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” He nodded. “It was supposed to be a secret anyway, right?”

“I guess.”

“...It's bound to get out eventually though.”

You sighed. There was no actual hope with keeping this a secret, after all. The best you could do was a 'everyone knows about it but we don't talk about it' secret.

“I know, don't remind me.” You muttered. “I mean, it'd be hard to hide moving to a different cabin, wouldn't it?”

Luke chuckled. “I can't speak from personal experience, but yeah, probably.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You felt like pulling your hair out. “How much do you know?”

“Not that much,” he shrugged. You didn't need to look at him to know he was lying, you had a pretty good track record of telling when someone was. “Just that you got claimed, and you're not happy about it.”

“How could I be happy about it?” You burst out, straightening your back as you whipped your head up. Your hands spread out in front of you and your heels dug into the ground beneath them. “I never wanted this life! What, I’m supposed to be grateful that my deadbeat dad finally showed up? That he finally ‘claimed’ me? What is there to be grateful for? That isn’t even the bare fucking minimum of being a parent!”

Luke tensed. You didn’t blame him. The gods were always listening, somehow omnipresent but not enough to be there for their own kids. Fucking ridiculous.

Against your better judgement, your rant continued, spilling out of your mouth like word vomit.

“It's not like I expect him to be there for every step of my life, but would it have killed him to show his face, willingly, just once? My mom works three jobs just to keep a place for the two of us to stay! What, he couldn't send child support every now and then? He's a fucking god! What good is being a god if you aren't there for the people you're supposed to be taking responsibility for?”

“Yeah, I hear that.”

You scoffed. “Sure you do.”

“I'm serious.” Luke defended, putting his can down on the ground. “I've only met my dad once, and even for a god he was kinda shitty.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, fine. He was completely shitty.” Luke admitted. With a bit of hesitation, he elaborated further, fidgeting with a blade of grass.

“Before I came to Camp, I was on the run.” He said, a faraway look in his eyes, almost as if he were talking about a different lifetime. “It was me, Annabeth and Thalia.”

“Thalia as in..?”

“Yeah,” he said, a bitter smile on his lips as he glanced back at the tall pine tree that stood at the top of the hill. “That's her.”

You bit your lip as you stared at the pine. Now that you knew there was a story behind it, your mind played tricks on you. The branches were suddenly outstretched arms, the leaves spiky hair and you could have sworn you could make out the shape of a face in the pattern of the bark.

“This one time, Thalia was hurt, and we needed a place to stay for a bit. Since we were desperate and not really thinking straight, we went to my mom's place.” He sighed. “When we got there... I met him.”

Luke took a deep breath, his eyebrows furrowing as if just thinking about that moment physically hurt. “I'd known what I was for a while. Prayed to my dad a couple times, too, but he never got back to me. When I met him at that house, I asked him for help. I knew we wouldn't be safe at mom's. I asked him for guidance... and he said no.”

You nodded along with his words. The sun was beginning to set now, a light chill in the air. The sky was a golden orange, which bathed everything out of the shadows in a yellow light. Luke's eyes looked almost the same color as the light reflected off of them.

“If he'd just told us where to go then and there, if he told us about this place...” He trailed off. He clenched his jaw before drinking the last of his coke and flattening the can. “Thalia would still be alive. Living. She wouldn't be...”

Silence settled between the two of you again. Luke didn't want to talk about it any longer, and, as curious as you were, you didn't want to pry. But it was less awkward this time around, a mutual understanding connecting you both.

“Kind of a dick move.” You remarked quietly. To your surprise, Luke laughed.

“Kind of?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Nah, total dick move.” You corrected yourself. You gave him a small smile. “Both our dads are jerks. Guess it runs in the family.”

“That's one thing.”

“Yeah? What’s the other?”

Luke shook his head, the corner of his lip tilting up into a half smile. “Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

You rolled your eyes. “Lame.”

The sky was turning purple now, a vibrant shade that leaned mire towards red than blue. Though soon it would be the other way around, and the harpies would come out to scare any campers who were out past curfew. You’d heard rumors that Mr.D allowed them to eat the strays sometimes, but you doubted they were true. Travis and Connor were still alive, after all. Though maybe they’d just never been caught.

Your run in with your father played on repeat in your head, each loop accentuating one horrible thing about it or the other. You fidgeted with the grass, ripping a few blades out of the ground. You bit your lip. Should you tell him about it? It would probably be good to get it off your chest. Plus, Luke actually understood how much this shit sucked.

“…You know what he said to me? When he saw me?” You finally muttered, deciding to trust him, just a bit. “He didn’t even recognize me, but I knew. The second I saw him, it was like something clicked. It took him a while, but when he made the same connection… He said, ‘shoot.’”

You laughed humorlessly. “‘Shoot.’ Like I was some piece of homework he forgot to do, and not his kid he abandoned before I was even born. I wanted to strangle him, I swear, but…”

You trailed off. You didn’t want to admit it, but your father was terrifying.

‘Watch the attitude.’ He had said, his hulking form growing until he was almost level with the trees surrounding him. ‘I don’t take disrespect, especially not from my own kids.’

I’m not your kid, you now thought, biting the inside of your cheek. He had never been a dad to you. As far as you were concerned, you didn’t have a father.

“I wished he were gone.”

…

You felt Luke’s gaze on the side of your head, practically boring holes into your skull. You glanced at him. Maybe you shouldn’t have told—

“You didn’t deserve that.” Luke suddenly said, a fire behind his words you’d never heard before. “None of us do.”

He stopped for a moment, his jaw clenched. Taking a deep breath, he turns his body towards you, facing you completely. There was no mistaking it now; there was gold swirling behind his blue irises.

“I have a proposition you might wanna hear.”

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo imagine #percy jackson imagine #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #pjo x reader #pjo #pjoverse #percy jackon and the olympians

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themadlu · 3 months

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Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless.

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil.

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all.

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers.

In, hold, out.

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.)

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen.

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron.

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear.

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple.

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest.

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information.

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.”

Enough.

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face.

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head.

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.”

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city.

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.”

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch.

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger.

There. Come at me. Prove me right.

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.”

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.”

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire.

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.”

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman.

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time.

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience.

Happiness suits you, little leader.

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange.

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away?

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake.

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is.

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him.

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals.

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!”

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn.

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue.

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now.

Gods, they must be disgusting.

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck.

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open.

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion.

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile.

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible.

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!”

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food.

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form.

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest.

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it.

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions.

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet.

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade.

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier.

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was.

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.”

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike.

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again.

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up.

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again.

“Thank you.”

Fuck.

#bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #oc: zélie #tav oc #astarion #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #human tav #I still feel bad for the orc and bugbear

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hana-no-seiiki · 4 months

Note

some random idea i got in my head idk if youve done this or not but

yan!oc (any of them) x yan!reader who already has a darling

maybe yan would kill readers darling? but how would yan!reader react to that?

just wanted to share

YAN OCS x YAN! READER HEADCANNONS (isayasifimnotthecreatorofthesecharacters)

Note that I won’t include much reactions moreso ways reader can respond or work around the OCs. Otherwise it’s up to your imagination how you would feel/react to these scenarios.

Been a while since I wrote for my children. I really miss Eve and Amir ngl oTL

Since it’s been such a long time I’ll semi-write this as if I’m talking about them for the first time.

Midnight Darling (College Based OCs)

I feel like many of my yan! ocs especially the college based ones (midnight darling tag if you’re interested in them) just wouldn’t care. They’re already in a harem you’ve created and don’t expect you to be monogamous. They’re more yandere in the sense that they love to invade your privacy/think they know what’s best for you/have no concept of boundaries whatsoever. Like loyal rabid fans.

Specifically speaking for Midnight Darling, you’d have to show extreme favoritism and be super obvious about your feelings for your darling to be suspected and to be targeted.

I think Reader of that universe would be smart enough to use the Yandere Harem to their advantage instead of exposing themself.

Your darling might take advantage of that though. Tell you that you don’t really love them if you keep sleeping around so often.

But in reality you do that just to appease those animals for the sake of your darling’s safety.

Oh and the faculty just shit on your darling’s grades. Your darling prolly gets bullied on the daily too.

In the case of Guest is God (Host Club Based OCs)

Another contender for,

Monogamy is a social construct we don’t give a fuck

Especially since many of these people are a bit more mature and smart than the college ocs.

In this scenario though, they’ll be the ones using your feelings as an advantage.

You want to be alone with your darling? You have to make sure your guest is completely satisfied by the end of the night. You want to take a break so your darling can give you some comfort head? You have to hit the quota for this month then, you slacker!

One thing they’ll have over your head though is that your darling can very much be forced into Host work like you were. So you have to work really hard in order to prevent that. Right?

Next up we have Love Multiplied: Invasion of Your Heart! (Idol Industry Based OCs

Eve (Yan! Idol) would be just-

He would honestly fucken steal your darling.

Of course he would play around them and treat them like shit. But that would be your fault after all!

He only wanted to be yours, but you went ahead and cheated on him with this nobody!! And that nobody doesn’t even love you like he does.

He’s a charming piece of shit when he wants to be. He’s an idol after all. It didn’t take too long.

You have two options here:

You can appease him. Say that he’s your main hoe and that your darling is just a past-time. Jisoo(his real name, Eve is his stagename) would never fucken believe that ofc that perceptive mf but it’ll sooth him enough to have him let go of your darling for a while.

Orrrrr you could just fight him. Yandere on Yandere. Wholeass murder his ass.

You could even do both.

My other LM:IOYH ocs aren’t fully fleshed yet so I’ll just generalize the rest.

The idols would most likely do some gaslight, girlkeep, girlboss tactics to your darling and either do a Jisoo and steal the damn person or make your darling hate you.

The managers/higher ups would most likely organize something to have darling killed.

And the friends outside of the industry type characters would most likely just straight up resort to murder. Direct and to the point. If not sour your opinion on darling.

Next are misc ocs!

Our ever popular Himbo! Yan would probably support you. As long as you manipulate him well enough. That is until he figures out that he likes you in a non platonic manner. Then shit hits the fan.

Amir (Tsun! Yan) would probably lose his feelings for you. Or at least desperately try to. He doesn’t match well with someone who likes someone else. Much less is yandere for someone else. One of if not the only yan who has the mind to let go. Out of fear or betrayal? Who knows.

Tries to avoid you but then literally everything reminds him of you so he’s just dying inside.

Smol chance but he could attempt to be your darling/replace your darling. He at least has the fashion/style know how down. He can try his darn hardest to act like them too.

Mori (Yan! Delinquent) would prolly have a voyeuristic view on it. He would imagine himself as your darling. His head would be in full delulu. Might even help you just so he could watch potentially fuck your darling and finger himself to it (he’s trans)

For @yoru-no-seiiki readers, Cassiel (Yan! Protagonist) doesn’t even see darling as competition. Like unless you’re the yandere to actively harm your darling, they wouldn’t give a crap about them. If you are however, they’d most likely keep you two apart. They can be sadistic if need be, and sees the idea of you not even knowing if your darling is alive or not as exciting. If anything it’d be good fuel for you to keep harming them.

But yeah my yans aren’t really murder hobos since I prefer writing the DISRESPECT part of yanderes rather than the violence. But yeah!! here are their ways of dealing with yan! reader.

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vargskelegore · 1 year

Note

ik you got a million requests rn but the roommate hc was TOO GOOD!! imagine bringing a GUY back to the dorm without telling shuri (to get back at her LMAO). mamas is HEATEDDDDD

author’s note: see you ate with this fren.... i swear when i saw this i just KNEW i had to write about it. wrote this while listening to inhale by bryson tiller. also, the hbcu!shuri tag is now considered popular!!! thank y’all so much for getting me to this point :) as per usual, all of this is my original work and hbcu!shuri as a concept belongs to me. thank you!

inhale. - hbcu!shuri x black!fem!reader

warnings: a bit mature, implied sexual things, semi angsty???? a very annoyed shuri.

requests: closed for now! read about why here.

word count: 1,312 words!

another friday, another ‘time-to-get-this-day-over-with-so-you-can-hang-out-with-shuri.’ or was it? it had been a week since she brought a girl over to y’alls dorm without saying a word, and honestly, you felt like it was long overdue to get back at her.

other people would call this petty, but you called it-- well, you called it petty too, but you also called it ‘well deserved pettiness.’ shuri had apologized so many times since the incident, and you forgave her every time, but you needed her to see how much it bothered you when she did it.

there was no majorette practice today, so you decided to make your way to basketball practice to speak to a friend. a very special friend.

your earbuds loudly played the city girls- there sure as hell was sound bleeding, but you really didn’t care because they were your go-to’s for an anthem when you wanted to be petty.

‘don’t nun but this cash make this pussy talk..’

as you continued to make your way to the basketball court, your phone dinged. there was no doubt in your mind that it was shuri. you decided to ignore her for the time being. you took a long sigh, realizing that ignoring her would take a lot more effort than expected, but you still pursued.

you stopped at the door for the basketball court, looking down at the time on your phone, before looking up and opening the door. you looked around as you walked around, hands in your pockets as you looked for a friend.

you leaned on the side of the bleachers and waited for him to notice you. once he did, he raised his eyebrow at you and jogged over. “girl, what are you doing here? you don’t ever come to practice.” he questioned, crossing his arms.

“michael, i need to ask you a favor..”

“it can never be good when you’re asking me a favor.” he responded almost immediately, and it made you chuckle. “valid response.. just do this for me?”

“hook me up with either gina or marquise, then we can talk. i have no preference.” rolling your eyes, you sighed. “fine. we have a deal.”

michael smiled at those words. “bet. let me finish practice and we can talk afterwards.” you nodded in response as you sat down on the bleachers, crossing your legs and checking your phone, realizing that shuri was still texting you. a smirk curled onto your lips before you turned your phone off.

practice was over after thirty minutes, and michael walked over to you, bag across his shoulder. “alright, i’m ready, y/n.” you got up from the bleachers and led him out of the gym.

“so.. are you gonna tell me what this is all about, now?” he urged, following behind you. “i need your help in making someone jealous.” those words made him groan. “girl, you cannot be serious. who?”

“...so, y’know my roommate?”

“that lil gay girl?” his words made your jaw drop before you hit his arm. “michael! she’s got a name, y’know..”

“right, it’s shuri udaku. yeah, i know her. everyone does, she’s the princess of wakanda.” michael said in a blunt tone. “okay, well.. last week she brought this girl to our dorm and didn’t tell me.”

“who, jaz? because she’s been feening after shuri for a while.. like since she started attending the school.” that made you roll your eyes. “that’s her name?”

“yeah, her. i remember her from when she went to tryouts for the majorette team when you weren’t there and apparently she did awful.” a small scoff escaped michael’s lips.

“some girl she is.. anyways, i need you to-”

“pretend to be your new boy toy and bring me to the dorm unannounced? i’m not surprised. don’t she know you like girls, though?”

“i don’t know, we kissed a few times, and-”

“then girl, what the hell is the point of doing this? if you don’t take your ass to the dorm and tell her you love her! fuck is the point of beating around the bush, y’all both gay, just date.” michael rambled, placing a hand on his hip.

“it’s not that simple, i just.. i need her to see that what she did really hurt me.”

“this is the most toxic way of getting your point across, i hope you know that.”

“i’m gonna tell marquise that you don’t like dudes.”

“...just take me to the damn dorm.”

shuri sat on her bed anxiously. she had been checking her phone like crazy for the last hour because you hadn’t texted back. was there a party she wasn’t aware of? did you actually end up having practice? all of these thoughts suddenly went away once she heard the door unlocking.

she immediately looked up from her phone like a dog seeing a squirrel. she couldn’t even wait anymore, she bolted to the door and opened it with a wide smile.. only to be greeted by the sight of you.. and a very, very tall man. that had his hand on your waist.

she tried to contain how shocked she looked. in fact, her heart jumped out of her chest at the sight. she cleared her throat as she stood aside, holding the door open and watching you two walk inside.

“um.. hey, y/n. i thought we had plans-- why didn’t you text back?” her voice was quite nervy, and you just looked at her and tilted your head. “you texted? oh.. i didn’t see it, phone must’ve died.” you shrugged, setting your bag down.

her heart slightly dropped. she took a swallow before opening her mouth again. “and.. who is this? i don’t think i’ve met him before.” you could hint the bitterness in her voice, and it made your heart race.

“oh.. this is michael. he’s on the basketball team.” you giggled a bit as you looked up at michael with a smile.

“wassup, lil bro.”

now that just sent shuri over the damn edge. her hand was slowly balling up into a fist, but she tried to keep it cool. “hello, michael. i’m not sure if you’re.. aware, but y/n is occupied for the night, we actually had plans tonight, right y/n?” shuri looked back at you with a soft face, but you could tell it was angry as hell behind all of that.

“but, i-”

“no, no.. we planned yesterday, correct?” there was no way you could say no to her. that smile was practically forcing you to say yes.

“..yeah. i’m sorry, michael.” was all you could manage to say. it was all going to plan, yes, but you didn’t exactly plan the outcome.

michael, playing the perfect role of a straight man, smacked his teeth and stuck his hands in his pockets. “aight. it’s cool. text me when you get a chance, y/n.” he looked back at you as he got up and walked to the door.

“yeah, we’ll see if she manages to go through with that, she just brings around so many guys.” shuri lied, a small laugh escaping her lips as she looked back at you with a wink.

your heart fluttered slightly. shuri urged him out the door, and slammed the door shut before locking it as well.

the room was silent for a moment.

“michael, huh? a basketball player? i knew you were absolutely ridiculous.” she began to laugh as you got up and tried to walk over to your desk to avoid this conversation.

“no no no, you don’t get to do that.” she was quick to grab your arm and spin you around. she placed a hand on your waist as she looked down at you and smiled. “what’s wrong? cat got your tongue?” you felt more than one area on your body flutter, and you managed to let out a whimper.

“i’ll make you real audible soon enough.”

#sam answers asks #hbcu!shuri #hbcu!shuri x reader #black reader #shuri x reader #shuri udaku x reader #princess shuri #shuri #shuri udaku #sam is obsessed with shuri #lesbian #wlw #gxg

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noosayog · 1 year

Text

wc: 1k

content/warnings: angst, fluff

final part, directory here.

noos's notes: thank you for enjoying this series! I'm the worst at writing making up scenes, so I hope this isn't too abrupt but I really never thought I'd actually finish writing this series if not for all of you who reblogged with comments and tags! xoxo

When Sakusa asks if he can come in to talk, you decline and offer to go to a nearby park. It’s summer and the weather is permitting, but he feels a cold chill despite your tentative smile. It’s not lost on him that you don’t want him in your safe space; you’ll only allow him an audience on neutral ground.

It’s not like he wasn’t expecting this. He’s grateful that you’re even willing to speak to him.

“I-”

“What-”

You both speak at the same time. Sakusa clams up and awkwardly gestures for you to speak. You sigh. “What did you want to talk about, Kiyoomi?”

Now, he had planned out what he would say at this moment. He had a whole script, as well thought out as could be in the span of time he ran from the locker room to your place. He was even going to take Atsumu’s lines and incorporate them into his speech.

But he’s not used to the cold front and polite smile. His mind blanks out and he’s on autopilot.

“How can I show you that I care about you?”

You frown. Not the reaction he was looking for but at least he got the stranger-danger smile off your face. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think… I’ve been doing a good job of showing you how much I care about you.”

“Kiyoomi…” you trail off.

You pause for a moment, your facial expression resigned. Sakusa fears he might’ve said the wrong thing again. Where was Miya when you actually needed him?

“I’ve never thought that you don’t care for me. Honestly, this is all on me. You’ve made it clear from the start that you don’t feel for me the way I do for you and that’s not your fault-”

Kiyoomi is desperate to open his mouth, call himself an idiot and set the record straight, but you hold up a hand to finish.

“Not your fault and I think it’s time I really put some effort in to let go of these feelings and stop hoping for things and crying at bad times and,”

You’re babbling nonsense at this point, voice getting softer and wobblier by the second and it’s terrible but all Sakusa can think about is how happy he is that you still seem to be in love with him.

Silly, stupid, absolutely knuckleheaded Sakusa. Him.

He says your name, resolutely, with promise.

You shut up and raise your face to him.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more clear. When I say care for you, I don’t mean it was a friend.”

You blink. The tears have stopped. Something’s working.

“I mean it as… well, the way you meant it when you told me you liked me.”

He’s on a roll now.

“It took me a really long time to realize this and even after I did, I needed Miya to knock it into me. I’m sorry I didn’t know I was in love with you from that very first night, I’m sorry that I’ve been a coward and selfish, and I’m sorry that I’ve made you cry by yourself. So let me rephrase. What can I do to make you know, without any doubt, that I like you so much and I want to care for you in a way that you’ll let only me do?”

Sakusa heaves out a big breath and he kind of expects you to just kiss him like they do in novels and movies but you just stare at him with big, uncomprehending eyes.

You’re quiet for a moment and when you speak, you say something Sakusa isn’t expecting.

“I want to, but you need to give me a reason to. All you've given me since we slept together are signs that you don’t want us to be together.”

He did consider the possibility that you had already fallen out of love with him, but you still seemed to be very much emotional over all this. He hadn’t considered the possibility that he had made so many mistakes that even the weight of your love was overshadowed by hurt and distrust.

He wants to let his flight instinct kick in again, but he didn’t steel his resolve and selfishly demand that you meet with him for nothing.

And as a minor afterthought, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle reporting back to Miya that he ran from you again.

“So let me ask you again, then. What can I do to show you how much I mean everything I just said? Make you breakfast and take you out for dinner? Clean your apartment? Tell you I love you everyday?” The list goes on.

It makes you giggle and Kiyoomi counts it as a point won.

“Are you sure this time, Omi?”

Kiyoomi almost swoons at the nickname. “Yes.”

“Then, while all those things sound good, I just need you to promise that you’ll try harder to talk to me when things get uncomfortable. ‘Cause all I ever wanted was for you to stay.”

“I will,” and he means it.

“It would be nice to hear you tell me you love me everyday, though.

“I’ll put a calendar reminder so I don’t forget.” He’s a hundred percent serious.

You laugh and he leans closer, desperate to hear - no, feel - that familiar sound better.

“That’s cheating!”

“I’ll remember. I’ll never forget anything about us ever again.”

“Omi,” you’re gentle as you pat his cheek. “It’s not possible to never forget anything. Just don’t forget to tell me how you feel.”

“I can do that,” he promises.

You laugh again. It's the kind of laugh like you don’t believe him, but he supposes that’s alright. He knows he can’t erase the months of loneliness and pain he caused you with just a few pretty words. But he does plan on spending the next few years, maybe the next few eternities, doing exactly that.

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thewolvesof1998 · 8 months

Text

Last Line/Tibet Tuesday

Thanks for all the tags! I'm pretty sure I've been tagged by everyone at this point 😂

I do have something to share, this is from a new WIP (I know, I know, I don't need another WIP but I just couldn't help myself and @eddiediaztho is a bad influence) I'm affectionately calling it The Heatwave Fic and it was inspired by me being stuck in the heatwave in London and being delusional from the heat...

Eddie has many regrets in his life, lying on the floor of the cabin in the middle of a heat wave with his six foot two best friend pressing into his side while they were both trying to stay cool under the pitiful breeze of the ancient ceiling fan had the possibility to be high on that list. He turns his head to be confronted with a tattooed and freckle-covered shoulder, he can’t remember when they decided to strip down to their boxers but at the time it had seemed like a good idea, he wasn’t sure about that now considering this was the third time he’d found himself turning to stare at the miles of bare skin. “Eddie?” “Hmm?” He drags his eyes up over collarbones, an Adams apple, a chin that had more stubble than usual, lips that Buck had been nervously chewing on and off for the past three days and up until he finally meets eyes as bright as they are blue. So blue in fact that they somehow made his throat even more parched than it already was, he was truly getting delusional from the heat. “Eddie.” “Buck.” “I’m lying in a pool of my own sweat.” He grimaces, “Gross.” “Eddddiiiieeee” Buck drags his name out in a whine that sounds an awful lot like Chris or maybe Chris sounds an awful lot like Buck, either way, Eddie finds it endearing as much as it is childish. He’s truly lost his mind. “We have to save water.” He knows what Buck wants, another shower, but they’ve got a limited supply of water and they don’t know how long this heatwave will last. Buck rolls over to face him, “But I’m so hot.” Eddie snorts but his reply dies in his throat as his eyes flicker down to Buck’s chest and the way his pecks are squished together in his new position. He wants to bite them, see if they are just as soft as they look. The inappropriate thought causes his cheeks to warm and he can only hope that it blends in with the heat-induced flush that has been present on both of their faces the past few days. “Just,” He waves his hand in the air, “think about something else,” he mumbles as he trains his eyes up to the ceiling as if the wooden rafters are the most interesting thing he’s seen in years and swears he’s not going to look at Buck until he’s sure he can control himself. “Like what?” “I don’t know,” He says as he manages a half-decent shrug while lying flat on his back, finding what looks like faces in the wooden beams. “What are you thinking about?” Buck asks, his voice is low and a little throaty and Eddie blames the lack of sleep for the goosebumps that rise on his arms. Because Buck’s probably just got a dry throat from the heat and here Eddie is lying sexualising his best friend, like a fucking creep.

And the last line which is a continuation of the above tibet:

Eddie clears his throat, “Uh, that looks like a dog,” He points up to one of the particular doggish faces in the grain of the wooden beams like they’re cloud-watching because he is sure as hell not going to say ‘Oh I was wondering if you would sound like that after I fucked your brains out’.

Tagging everyone because I honestly don't have the energy to figure out who's already tagged me and who hasn't sooo....

@wikiangela @wildlife4life @alyxmastershipper @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @buddierights @forthewolves @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @sammy-souffle @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherluciferr @cowboy-buddie @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg

#it was so fucking hot #like im from nz and ive been to Australia during the summer I know heat but London last week was crazy #it was all I could think about #I barely slept #I sweated so much #and then I had the idea of buck and Eddie being stuck in a heatwave and fucking sooo....#9-1-1 #buddie #buddie fic #thewolvesof1998 writes #mywip #wip #the heatwave fic #buddie smut #fic: even when the heat breaks i'm still yours

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eeteernity · 1 year

Text

Gekko x reader

im witting this bc when i was on the gekko x reader tag i was in the top blogs and i felt like an imposter so now i have to write one

cw: fluff

you want an indie boyfriend who skates and introduces you to music, clothes and overall just loves you? Gekko is right there in the corner staring at you in adoration

You were quite new in the protocol, you joined right after neon, so only 2 more people joined after you. You pretty much got along with everyone there, even being tolerated by viper and reyna. (you think reyna only didnt hate your guts because you were a radiant)

though you did like to hang out with neon, raze, jett and phoenix a lot. Those 4 you seemed to mesh really well with, very loud and outgoing people. Which is why it was such a shock when another agent joined.

“Everyone this is gekko, The new guy who will be joining you guys on missions, make sure to treat him well.”

Brim said sternly, while gekko just gave a bit of a goofy wave. It was love at first site.

“he’s so fine omg.”

“i know…”

you and neon whispered to each other. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, he was just so different to most the people here, he looked more relaxed and chill. Sage then took him off to show his room.

“yo (y/n) you should get to know him, he looks so cool.”

neon said with a sly smile.

“honestly I will.”

reyna looked over to you and neon and just rolled her eyes muttering ‘kids’ under her breath before walking away.

you decided to leave him alone for a bit just for him to get settled in. Sitting in the common room you switch through channels trying to find something interesting to watch. However you didn’t have to wait for long to talk to the new guy.

“hey you’re (agent name) right? sage told me your name by the way. im not a stalker or anything!”

he said putting his hands up defensively with a small smile.

“oh hey! yeah I’m (agent name) but you can call me (y/n), I don’t keep my name a secret here. It’s nice to meet you! are you liking it here?”

“yeah it’s super chill, i’m loving the vibe here. my name is mateo by the way”

he says as he sits near you on the couch.

“anything i can help you with? or did you just want to talk to me?”

you say in a teasing tone, causing his cheeks to go slightly pink.

“oh yeah i was actually wondering if you knew any places to eat around here? specifically chinese im really in the mood for that right now! But i also wanted to talk to you!”

he again said defensively.

“oh yeah i know a shit ton. you want me to go with you or just give you directions?”

“oh sí that would be great if you came along, you could help me order!”

“okay let me just go put on some shoes”

you and gekko went off to a near by street that had many food places, on the way you engaged with the usual first meeting talk like ‘how old are you?’ ‘favourite colour?’’where you from’ just the normal stuff. You got to the food place and decided to eat it there instead of takeaway. it was a small place, a family owned business. it was quaint

“so (y/n) what do you plan to get?”

“hmmm i’ll go with this one”

you point to your usual oder on the menu.

“i’ll get that too!”

you and gekko order and just keep talking. its nice, he’s really nice, and chill, and good looking and you’re staring at him again.

“so you wanna tell me about the people we work with? por favour.”

“oh yeah okay so, everyone’s really nice. Maybe not viper and reyna but they’re nice deep down… i think.

“ohhh reyna is actually the one who trains me!”

“really?! that’s cool as. Omen was the one who trained me when i first arrived. but anyway, keep your eardrums safe around raze she can be a bit loud.”

“veo, veo.”

you two keep discussing everyone until your food arrives.

“woah this looks good as, great pick (y/n)!”

“yeah, also i’ll pay for you if you want. I got spare cash”

“really! thats so nice!! gracias!”

eventually you get back, completely stuffed from the food.

“yo (y/n)! Gekko! you’re back. You guys want to watch a movie with me, raze, killjoy, sage, jett and omen?”

neon asked as soon as you walked through the door.

“yeah im down, what about you (y/n)?”

“yeah same! what movie are we watching?”

“a horror! its going to be so fun, just come to the common room when you’re ready.”

neon says before sprinting away. You look over to gekko and see him slightly frozen.

“you scared of horror movies or something?”

gekko nods his head slightly.

“don’t worry you can grab onto my arm if you get scared!”

gekko blushed a little at this.

“haha thank you (y/n)…”

the two of you walk to the common area and the movie starts. Everyone is sat in twos, Killjoy and raze, omen and sage, jett and neon.

the movie starts out well not too many scares but then the first jump scare happens. Making neon and Gekko jump

“oh shit!”

he says as he grabs onto your arm.

“sorry, didn’t mean to grab onto you.”

“its alright mateo-“

“shhhh!”

jett shushes the both of you.

the movie continues. With gekko basically clinging onto you for dear life. so like a good person you rub his back for him to clam down. he shivers at your touch. The movie ends, and killjoy and raze are giggling to themselves about how bad it was. omen and sage thank everyone for watching the movie as they walk to go do their own thing. while jett is comforting neon.

“neon it wasn’t that bad!”

“yes it was jett! what if that weird thing is going to come for me!!”

“come on lets go get you some water…”

which leaves you and gekko alone.

“you feeling alright?”

you ask him concerned.

“yep… yep. i’m alright. Man how do you not get scared?!”

you just shrug your shoulders.

“anyway i’m going to get ready for bed. If you get scared i don’t mind you waking me up or anything. I’m here for you.”

“okay, thanks for spending the day with me (y/n) it was really nice to get to know you!”

you leave.

He’s so cool..

i really like her..

OKAY THATS THE ENDING I MIGHT CONTINUE IT WHO KNOWS BUT I JUST WANTED TO GET THIS OUT. SORRY IF IT’S BAD I DIDN’T REALLY KNOW WHERE IT WAS GOING

#gekko #gekko x reader #valorant #valorant x y/n #valorant x reader #gekko x y/n #x reader #fluff #mateo #mateo x reader

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racinginchid3nt · 8 months

Text

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part One

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: none yet. so far it’s just build up

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

————————————————————————

While you weren’t a newbie to watching the races, you’d never done so in person. Work kept you busy and the idea of wasting precious vacation days on a flight to sit in the rain instead of on your couch wasn’t your idea of enjoyment.

Your friend had been dating Pierre for a few months now. Having spent the past week fighting, she forced you to take a weekend off and fly to Belgium with her for the race at Spa. He had surprised her with an extra plane ticket and paddock pass as an apology.

As you had packed the night before, Y/N Best Friend had appeared at your doorstep, arms full of garment bags. As soon as she saw the comfortable, weather appropriate outfits you’d selected, she started ripping through your suitcase and adding in her own picks.

“We’re going to be in the paddock, not the grandstands. We have to look the part Y/N” She’d said.

“Besides, there’s plenty of eye candy and you’re single. Might as well make the trip worthwhile. You know our shared hotel room will basically be yours the entire trip.”

“Honestly Y/N Best Friend, I’m not sure that’s the best idea. I’ve heard enough horror stories about most of the guys to make it clear that I should steer clear.”

“You don’t have to marry him Y/N! I just think it would be more fun if you joined me on these trips more. A girl can dream. Besides, it doesn’t have to be a driver. Some of the mechanics are definitely worth a second look.”

“Screw it. Pack what you want but don’t take anything I packed out” You admitted with defeat. Maybe she had a point. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, and how much damage could one weekend do.

The journey to the airport in the hired car was relaxing. And when you boarded into first class and champagne was waiting at your seats, it was a welcome surprise.

The flight from Barcelona has lasted only a few hours and before you knew it you were gathering your purse and carry on to disembark. It was only Wednesday so you were able to relax as you got to the hotel. The suite was beautiful and Pierre had sent flowers to greet his girlfriend. As you unpacked, the two of you began to plan the weekend’s festivities.

Thursday would be filled with media day around the paddock, followed by Friday free practice and qualifying, then Saturday sprint. The race on Sunday would wrap everything up.

————————————————————————

Thursday

Media day started early. The time adjustment was rough but the calm arrival day helped. You were going with Y/N Best Friend and Pierre to the track. He had interviews and Alpine press responsibilities. The two of you would spend the day in hospitality.

Your paddock pass hung around your neck. A tag on a lanyard with your name and face. The drive in was crazy, with fans already lining up to see the drivers. Your best friend waved you ahead so she could help fans get their autographs and you entered security alone.

Seeing the track in person felt surreal. Larger than life, it started to set in that you were actually standing at Spa. You knew the Alpine hospitality would be further down the track. As you started your walk you were amazed by how many journalists were in attendance. As someone with a large camera and a boom mic began filming you, you were thankful you’d taken your friends advice and dressed the part. A simple dress and nice sneakers kept you both presentable and comfortable. You smiled at the camera crew, spotting the netflix logo on their badges, knowing as soon as they discovered your lack of celebrity they’d cut your clips from the show.

You arrived at hospitality, showing your pass at the doors, before sitting down in a small seating area to kill time until Pierre’s media interviews. As the time began to tick closer and closer to round one interview starts, you became nervous that you still hadn’t see Y/N best friend or Pierre.

You tossed your trash and began the walk to the tent. Glancing at your phone trying to decipher what Y/N Best Friend meant by her directions, you decided to head towards the back of hospitality. As you reached the end however, you couldn’t find anything that looked like a media tent. The interviews would be packed and there was no way the space could be small.

You began looking around trying to find someone who could point you in the right direction. The first person you spotted breezed past you, not even acknowledging your question. The second was speaking in what sounded like Italian and had looked at you in confusing, not understanding you. Resigned to wander on your own you picked up your pace and began jogging around the area, peaking your head around corners to see if media was set off to the side.

As you turned sharply after another dead end, you felt yourself bump into someone. Looking up you saw a head of brown hair reaching down to collect their empty cup. Apologizing profusely you reached into your bag to pull out tissues. It wasn’t until you began trying to pat dry the wet spot on the man’s shirt that he actually said anything.

“Fuck sorry. I’m in a rush I didn’t mean to bump you. Are you okay?” He said. The voice sounded familiar but your embarrassment kept your eyes down while you tried to clean the mess.

“Yeah. It was my fault. I’m so sorry about the spill. I’m in a rush too. Could you point me in the direction of the media tent? I’m supposed to be watching the interviews.”

“That’s where I’m going. Just follow me. They won’t let you in if you’re late.”

You looked up for the first time at the Aston Martin driver, realizing why the voice was so familiar.

“Yeah that’s what I was told. Lead the way!”

You followed behind the driver for a few minutes. Flashing your pass to security to enter into the back with just minutes to spare.

He continued on, making his way up to the stage. As he took his seat he began scanning the crowd, trying to determine which media was where and looking for his PR agent. As his gaze made it over to the visitor section he saw you seated with a few of the other girlfriends.

“What kind of guy ditches his girlfriend and doesn’t even tell her how to get to the media tent” he thought. He began eyeing the drivers near him, trying to remember who was and wasn’t single, but his train of thought was cut off as the host started the round.

————————————————————————

A/N: This is my first time doing any kind of fanfic in awhile. So hopefully they improve as they go on. Parts will hopefully be posted 5-6 times a week but we’ll see how it goes. The next post is already done and will be up soon. Im not sure what the final length on this will be but I have a pretty good guideline of the story planned out. There’s not nearly enough lance content IMO so someone has to contribute. There will also be a longer spin off of the Pierre and Best Friend storyline to come

Edit: please fill out the poll when you get a chance

#lance stroll #aston martin #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #alpine #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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felinefractious · 1 month

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Hi! I work at a cattery and this morning I met a very strange fellow. Silver tabby DLH, but with a sharp and tightly curled tail, high spine arch, and seemingly high-set hips. I gave his food in a regular bowl but he seemed uncomfortable on his back legs when he tried to eat, also very tender along the back and especially at the base of his tail. I've met other cats with curled tails before but his was very extreme and I suspect was the reason his spine and hips were so whacked. I don't know if he could even move it honestly.

But basically I wanted to ask if you knew anything about curled-tail cats, if there's anything notable going on genetically, and health risks associated with having curled tails? I don't believe there's yet a curl-tailed breed but have you come across enough individuals with this trait to recognize potential problems with it?

In other news we also got a completely tail-less mum and her 4 similarly tail-less kittens that someone apparently found while out camping?? Dunno what the odds of that are but sure

The Rare and Exotic Feline Registry recognizes a breed called “Curly Tail Cat,” although I haven’t been able to find any information on what this actually entails. Since it does provide an EMS code, though, that’s how I’ve been labeling the curlytail cats I share here.

A “ringtail” is desireable in the developing Topaz breed, which is what most (all?) of the ones in my tag.

There’s also the emergent American Ringtail breed but I’m not sure how that differs from the Curly Tail Cat or even it even does. It could be the same breed under different names.

I’ve met a few cats that potentially have the “flat to back” phenotype, I don’t remember them having any issues related to that… I thought I had pictures but I can’t seem to find it. Oh well.

It seems like the gene is recessive, as two straight-tailed can produce ringtail offspring and have litters with both normal and curved tailed offspring.

Many of the documented curlytail cats aren’t reported to have related health issues… but that doesn’t necessarily mean that there aren’t any present. One example on the linked page (“Spookie”) had an acquired curlytail due to neurological damage.

Ultimately, despite that fact that curlytail cats have been documented for many years they’re uncommon and poorly studied enough that we can’t really say for sure whether it’s related to adverse effects or not… but I’d be cautious of trying to perpetuate a trait that involves atypicsl development of the spine.

As for the cat you saw my first thoughts are:

1. Is the cat highly inbred? We recently saw a cat who we suspect was highly inbred, he was the sole survivor of his litter and had a mild case of pectus excavatum. Inbreeding can cause structural abnormalities.

2. Did the cat sustain an injury to the area? If the cat had, for example, been struck by a car at some point but survived well enough for the damage to heal it’s entirely possible that he’d have lingering effects.

If he hasn’t already been seen by a veterinarian he definitely should be.

With regards to the tailless kittens… natural bobtail genes are pretty well distributed throughout stray and feral populations. They’re not common but I also wouldn’t say they’re rare. The tailless phenotype is associated with rear end lameness and incontinence so keep an eye on them as they develop.

#anonymous #asks

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dmercer91 · 10 months

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for opposites attract i feel like reader would be in like a dark outfit and mary janes and dark makeup next to sunny sweet luca but luca just thinks they are so so adorable!!

oh absolutely - turned this into impromptu draft day hcs cause i love them

you allow adam to sit next to luca purely cause you know they’re gonna have an hour long cuddle session on live television once adams name is called

you hug adam for the second time ever and maybe you’re a smidge proud of him so you smile with teeth and everything

adam teases you about it while he’s doing his rudimentary good luck ritual of messing up your bangs

“you’ve got a pretty smile,” “oh shut up,”

as soon as he starts making his way down you steal his seat and take lucas hand

he’s more than aware that the camera is panning to him while they’re talking about adam and you’re not so aware

he has every gif or picture of the two of you holding hands he can find saved

this is probably the first time the internet is getting a good view of you because you downright refuse to let him post your face at this point in the relationship

even when he hard launched you it wasn’t your whole face, he’d just tagged you

a lot of people are a little.. perplexed at the contrast between you and luca

i’m picturing a long sleeve dress and black tights, still formal enough for the draft

hair down and in loose curls

^ i’ve always envisioned very long, either really dark brown or black hair with like the thin fringe bangs

and light (layer wise) makeup, still matching the darker colour scheme

meanwhile luca is in the light blue and he’s just being luca

the chain he has with the moon ring on it is out where people can see it and he’s fidgeting with your sun ring

he absolutely wants a photo shoot before you leave cause he thinks you look so pretty

he almost definitely has a friends/family instagram or something that has essentially become a you fan page

tonight is no different and those who follow it have given up on watching all the stories

cause he will not shut up (before it starts and after the draft is over) about how beautiful you are and how proud he is of adam and it ends up being one of those days where he’s got so many posts the story lines are dots (seriously everyone’s sick of him)

he even got one of you and adam together and you’re leaning your head on his shoulder cause that’s your newly acquired honorary brother and you want to show him you’re happy for him and this is the way he accepts you’re gonna do that

luca loves that you love adam and that adam has basically accepted his role to you as lovingly pesty little brother

you don’t really keep up much with hockey other than luca and adams whole situation, so you very discreetly eye fucking luca once you’re pretty sure they’re done talking about adam cause you’re not familiar with other people and you don’t want to look bored

you do watch out for gavin’s name

honestly confused protective mother vibes when he isn’t called (however you will not ever tell anyone that. ever.)

his parents love you even though you’d hardly met just because not only is luca head over heels and constantly praising you but adam has started mentioning how you’re warming up to him and just the fact that he’s proud of himself for that tells them they want you to stay around

clothes last about .47 seconds max once you and luca are back at the hotel room courtesy of a couple drinks after the draft

this is longer than i thought it was gonna be but my brain kept thinking things and i’ve gotten so much sun today so if this is word vomit my apologies i cannot contain the luca and reader love

#opposites attract au !#luca fantilli

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striderincosmos · 2 months

Text

WIP Whenever

As tagged by @swaps55, and inviting any who wish to participate! (I'm not exactly linked to many writers on here just yet)

Here's a sneak peak (a nice, long one) between Nathaniel 'Nate' Shepard and Garrus on their way to Feros in Spectre Echoes: Memories and Portents!

- - -

The crew area was a rather bustling place at the moment, what with the new additions to the crew. It made Garrus stand out even more at the table, dressed in a shirt and pants that accommodated the slight crest of his upper back.

Nate took a seat next to him, a human beer in one hand and a turian brew from a case he’d had assigned to the Normandy’s cold storage in the other. “Evening, Garrus,” he said casually, offering the brew. “How are you holding up?”

“Rather well, honestly,” Garrus said as he took his drink, opening it and taking a sip. “This sort of environment is easy for me, no matter the species. I might have decided to go to C-Sec over joining the reserves in a decade or so, but you can’t beat out nearly a decade of military training.”

“What made you go into C-Sec in the first place?” Nate asked.

“It was the family business,” Garrus shrugged. “My father had been C-Sec before getting pulled out from the Reserves for Relay-314, and his father before him had done the same thing. Still don’t know why the old man went into politics, though. Even C-Sec is simpler than that.”

Nate shrugged. “I try to avoid politics. When you have a camera pointed at you more often than not…”

“I can see how that’d be the case,” Garrus said, pausing for long moments. “So, I’ve got a question for you about Saren.”

“Funny enough, I’ve actually got one for you, too,” Nate said. “You first.”

“Are you really planning on trying to arrest Saren and drag him in front of the Council after what he’s done?”

Nate ruminated on the query with a pull of beer. “It’d be what the Council wants done, most likely. Saren’s dangerous, but if we can subdue him, he needs to face due process.”

Garrus’s mandibles drooped slightly, the action looking almost like a grimace. Or a sneer. “There’s a lot of risk to that too, though. He isn’t the best Spectre the Council has for nothing. He could probably find half a dozen different ways to escape during transit to the Citadel, let alone what he could do if he was on it.”

“We know he’s the most dangerous person in the galaxy,” Nate said assuringly. “If there’s anyone who can guard him, it’s going to be all of us and the krogan along for the ride.”

“That wouldn’t stop the Council from offering clemency, or just finding some way to sweep this under the rug,” Garrus retorted. “But taking him in is the way it’s done by the book, isn’t it? ‘Do it right, or don’t do it at all’.”

Nate frowned slightly at the rather bitter invective. “And who said that?”

“Lucrius Vakarian,” Garrus said, washing the name back down with a pull of his brew. “Among the most renowned detectives on the Citadel. Spirits know he said to me more times than I can count.”

“Not a regulations guy, then?”

Garrus sighed quietly. “I get why they’re there. I get that they’re useful. My father and C-Sec drilled that into me well enough. But sometimes, in order to resolve a situation permanently, completely, the regs, and the people who enforce them, can make it so that a solution becomes a stopgap. People get away. Innocents get taken advantage of or hurt when they don’t need to.”

Garrus was silent for a moment. “Take Doctor Saleon.”

“Who’s that?”

“He was — probably is still — one of the leading figures of the Citadel’s black markets. Specifically in grown organs. Real mean bastard. In a place where a krogan who’s well-connected enough could drop 40,000 credits for a full quad transplant to try and counteract the genophage, Saleon was a unique brand of fucked up.”

“See, there was an increase in organ trade, well beyond what we expected. We managed to confiscate some, and do some genetic tests. It was a bit of a mess, but it led us to a very lively turian who was very insistent that he was not, in fact, missing his liver. We ran a background check, and saw he worked for the aforementioned doctor.”

“What did you do next?” Nate asked.

“We brought him and some of Saleon’s other former employees in for questioning. While I was interviewing one of them, I noticed something suspicious. One of the detainees, a human, started bleeding from his abdomen during questioning. Pretty badly, too. We offered to patch him up, and he got panicky.”

Garrus paused, was silent for long moments. “We found dozens of incision scars on him. Some of them fresh, like the one that gave him away. Others much older. That’s when we realized this sick bastard Saleon wasn’t just employing people. He was testing on them. Growing the organs right inside of them, then cutting them open, harvesting them, and selling them off. Most of the test subjects were poor, desperate. They only got a small cut of the profits from any sale, and only if the organs were viable. If they weren’t, he just… left them inside them.”

The beer wasn’t very appealing to Nate anymore, and he set it on the table at arm’s length. “What happened then?” he ventured.

“We went out to go and put the cuffs on this guy. But he rigged his lab to blow, ran as soon as his mules started getting pulled in by C-Sec. Took some of his ‘employees’ with him to the nearest spacedock. By the time we found where he was, the ship he stole was already leaving. He threatened to kill who were now his hostages if anyone tried to stop him.”

“And he got away?” Nate said incredulously.

Garrus nodded. “I ordered Citadel defenses to intercept and fire on him, but C-Sec HQ countermanded my order. They were worried about the hostages. Worried about civilian casualties for how close he still was to the city arms. I told them the hostages were already the next best thing to dead, that this was just the cold, hard calculus of stopping a criminal like this now and for good. But they wouldn’t listen.”

Nate sighed. “Sounds like a recipe for hating where you work.”

“To put it mildly.” Garrus chuckled darkly. “I went to Executor Pallin, the man in charge of C-Sec, and told him what I thought about the situation and the policies that made it happen. He told me if I didn’t like it, then I could quit. To be honest, I almost did, just to spite them.”

“As tough a choice as it is, the lives of the hostages were as important as catching Doctor Saleon,” Nate said pointedly. “If we didn’t care about the lives of those threatened by the people we want to bring to justice, how different are we from them?”

It was silent between them for a moment before Garrus sighed quietly. “You know, I can see where you’re coming from. I just wish we could have stopped Saleon as well.”

Again it was silent. “So,” Garrus said after a moment, “what was your question?”

“You’ve got a personal stake in this,” Nate began. “I won’t begrudge that, and I won’t discount that we might need to kill Saren to stop him. But if we do manage to capture him… can I count on you to let justice play out?”

Garrus was silent for long, contemplative moments. “As much as it might grate at me…” he finally said. “I’ll trust your judgment. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Shepard. However the stellar wind blows, I’ll follow your lead.”

Nate nodded. “I’m glad you have my back, Garrus.”

“I mean hey,” Garrus said, his mandibles implying a slight grin, “I get to learn what a Spectre looks like from you. Thus far, I’d say I’ve got a pretty good mentor.”

#WIP Whenever #mass effect #fanfic scene

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