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gurugirl · 1 month

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Don't Speak

*images are for aesthetic only

priest!harry x subby!reader | soft dom!harry x bratty/sub!reader

Summary: Y/n accidentally says something in front of everyone at prayer group that gets her in trouble with the priest.

A/N: I know it's been so long since I gave y'all any priestrry but I missed him and his pet so I was compelled to write this! Hope you enjoy! And if you're tagged it's bc you are either on my main general taglist or you asked to be tagged in anything for priestrry (even tho it's been so long) just let me know if you want to be removed and I will! xoxo

Word Count: 2,692

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, religious mentions, smut, sub/dom dynamic, spanking, punishment

Forgive Me, Father masterlist

She hadn’t meant to say it in front of everyone during prayer group. It didn’t have to mean anything if no one read too much into it. She was only responding to a simple question but she said we.

We plan to eat after the meeting.

We, as in the mention of herself and Harry. The two of them doing something together. She hoped they interpreted it as her saying -with someone other than Harry. But she also looked at Harry directly when she said it. Maybe no one saw that.

But Harry certainly did. And the look she received from him was scalding. She knew she was in for it once everyone had gone.

No one followed up to ask who was the other part of this we she spoke of. She wished they would. She could say anyone and make up a little lie. Her brother. Her roommate. Anyone. But no one asked.

And she wasn’t sure if the room felt tense or if it was just her. Because after she said it, she felt like everyone was suddenly looking at her differently. And of course, the way Harry was warning her with his eyes wasn’t helping matters.

So she kept her head down and her mouth closed until the end. And when everyone began to leave, like always, she walked out of the house and to the side to wait until everyone was gone.

And even when the coast was clear she hesitated for a moment. But ultimately going back inside with Harry to face whatever kind of reprimand he was going to give her was better than waiting and wondering about what he might do. Perhaps she could plead her case.

Stepping into the living room she found Harry folding up the metal chairs and placing them tidily in their little wooden cubby behind the couch. He walked across the room without even a glance in her direction and into the kitchen with a glass. Standing still in her spot she could hear the glass being placed in the sink and then his footfalls as he began to walk back to the living room.

“Father, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I don’t think anyone noticed–“

“Go stand and face the corner. Don’t speak.”

She gulped and gave a quick nod as she scurried toward the corner of the living room and let her limbs fall loose as she waited for the priest to finish what he was doing. She wanted to protest. To tell him it was an accident and to go easy on her but she knew better than to resist.

Minutes stretched on as she listened to Harry cleaning up and moving back and forth from the living room to the kitchen before she heard him approaching behind her and then stopping.

She could feel him standing behind her but he kept silent for a beat or two before she felt his breath at the back of her neck, “Tell me what happens if someone finds out about us, Y/n.”

She inhaled a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes closed, “Well, you could face expulsion from the church. Everything you’ve worked so hard for that you love the most would be gone. Or they’d transfer you and after penance, you’d have to promise to permanently end our relationship.”

The floorboard creaked as Harry stepped in closer and she felt his warm hands at the tops of her arms, “I could lose what I love, yes. But if it came to choosing you or the church do you know what I would do, pet?”

“Father, I would like to believe you’d choose me. But I would understand if you chose the church.”

“Do you doubt how deep my love for you is?”

Y/n opened her eyes and took a deep breath, the plaster of the white wall in her view, “I don’t doubt how deeply you love me. I feel it every moment. But I also know how deep your love is for God and for your vocation.”

“I’m angry that you let it slip out like that so freely in front of everyone. But I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I want you to know that I’ll always choose you. Over everything else. Over my priesthood. Over God. You’re the most important thing I have.

A stray tear escaped her eye as he pressed his chest into her back and suddenly lifted his hands and she felt her red leather collar being placed on her neck as he adjusted the buckle, “Besides, I’ve slipped up too haven’t I? When I thought no one was watching. But you slipped up in front of many sets of eyes and ears. Let’s hope they didn’t notice the way you looked at me when you said it.”

She turned to look back at him to respond but one of his hands gripped the back of her neck, “Face the wall. I’m not done with you yet. As much as I understand it was a mistake, there are consequences for your actions, pet. Take off this dress.”

Biting her lip she silently pulled the fabric over her head and Harry noted she was not wearing panties. He imagined she did that on purpose. She often enjoyed leaving things uncovered in case they were in a situation where he could just take her. But she was cheeky too so maybe it was just to get a rise out of him.

“No panties while we were all sat here praying to our Lord. Fucks sake, Y/n.”

The first strike to her bottom had her wobbling forward, palms on the walls, and bending slightly at the waist. She was used to being spanked and when he did it with his hands it was a treat. She loved his hands on her. No matter how they were touching her.

Another open-palmed swat and then another had her dipping her head and closing her eyes as she braced herself.

She felt his hand smooth up her spine and press down between her shoulders, “Bend down further. Keep your hands on the wall, legs together. Think about what you can do to not make the kind of mistake you made today while I get your paddle.”

A big gulp was pulled down her throat as Harry stepped away. What could she have done differently? Maybe just be on top of her thoughts at all times? Never waver in front of people? She wasn’t sure. How was it possible to not accidentally slip up once in a great while? She had been so good all this time. Never doing anything that would really tip anyone off. The slip-up was bound to happen at some point.

When Harry returned she felt a kind hand rub over her bottom, “You get five on each side and no crying. Once I’ve given you five you’ll tell me what you could have done differently and if you haven’t come up with something you’ll get another five on each side. Understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Count for me.”

Every strike to her sensitive bottom had her keening and gasping. She counted each one, five on each side (so ten really and she would have complained but now wasn’t the time).

“Now, tell me. What can you do to make sure that never happens again? How can we avoid it?”

She took a deep breath, still reeling from her stinging bottom and knowing she was about to get five more (ten more) because she hadn’t come up with an idea quite yet.

“Uhh… I just need to think harder and not let myself really look at you… uh… I can keep my mind sharp so I don’t say things I shouldn’t on accident.”

“No. That’s not it. Count for me.”

The next round hurt more. The smooth leather landing against her sore ass had her arching her back away from him and hissing between numbers she pushed from her lungs. Every one biting a little more than before.

But when she got to her final five (ten) she thought of an answer that she felt would suffice and nearly hopped up with a grin, but knowing better she stayed in her position.

“Have you come up with an answer for me?”

“I can just not speak. I’ll say my throat hurts and keep my mouth closed the whole meeting.”

“That will only work once or twice. But every meeting, pet? You can do better than that. Count for me.”

She let her tears slip out of her eyes as she racked her brain for the answer he might want. Every number she counted got lost in her fuzzy brain and the ache from the paddle on her bum started to numb and the shift in how it made her feel manifested in arousal, which the priest did not miss as he could see her pussy with the way she was bent for him; That obvious glisten beginning to seep out from her labia.

“Tell me what you can do to avoid making comments like you did today.”

She inhaled and moaned softly, “I think that I should maybe not come to all the prayer meetings. I can stay in my cage if I’m feeling a little off maybe? Then I won’t have the opportunity to at all. And me not being at all the meetings would be good I think. Because no one is always at every meeting. Probably good for me to sit back for a while.”

The paddle fell to the floor and she felt Harry’s hands gently caressing her bottom, his fingers gliding over the raised skin left behind from the paddle, “You are so smart, pet. See? That’s perfect. Don’t move from your spot. Keep your thighs together.”

She heard the clank of his buckle and smiled to herself. She loved it when he had his way with her. She didn’t even care what he was about to do, she welcomed him wherever and however he wanted.

When his hands returned to her back and gently pressed over her bum she sighed as he leaned over and kissed her shoulder blade, “I love you. I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” she listened as he spoke and could tell he was stroking himself behind her the way his voice was wavering, breathy. “No matter what happens, you’re mine and I’m keeping you, okay?” His voice hitched up just a bit as he scraped his cockhead through her folds. She was tempted to spread her thighs but she resisted since he’d been very clear with her to keep them together.

“Yes, Father,” she breathed as she felt his smooth tip collecting her arousal, gliding up and down through her crease.

“And since you didn’t do it on purpose and I’ve given you 15 spanks as punishment,” 15 on each side, she corrected in her mind, “I’ll let you come but you may not move. I don’t want you spreading your legs to keep steady either. I’ll hold you up if you start to fall.”

The sudden slicing of his wide cock through her delicate pussy entrance had her groaning and dropping her mouth wide open. She was so wet and gushy already. She felt her arousal seep down to the back of her thigh as he began to thrust into her, juices leaking down from her opening.

Harry’s hand landed on the wall next to her head as his other clutched her hip tight, thick crown splitting her in half, and it all felt even tighter inside with her thighs pressed together. But her legs started to sway as he took heavy strokes, hips smacking against her ass. A deep moan vibrated from his chest and the way she was squeezing around him was like heaven. If he had to go to hell for his sins it would be worth it. She was worth everything to him.

When the priest noticed his pet having difficulty keeping steady he pushed into the brim, filling her completely, and gently nudged and nudged deeper into her, rutting in with hips pasted to her ass, “Being so good for me, pet. Keeping your legs together as I asked. Feels so good with you around me…”

She could hear the tightness in his voice. Her priest was enjoying her pussy. His pussy. Everything was his. All of her belonged to him. She kept her palms on the wall as he fucked into her, keeping his body tucked against her, spreading her open completely and fitting right up against her cervix like she needed.

“Want to be good for you, Father. Want to make you happy and give you everything I can. You own every single part of me.”

He groaned and rutted forward making her inhale sharply, “I do own you don’t I pet? That’s why I call you my pet. Because you’re mine and you always will be. Isn’t that right?”

No one would have ever guessed the pair stood together in the corner fucking in the small living room had the kind of secret they did. No one would have ever guessed the man was a priest and the girl on his cock with the red leather choker was his dirty secret. His divine secret. No one would know the kinds of sinful things they did together every day. If they glanced at the marks on her bare bottom they wouldn’t have assumed they were from the hands of a priest.

“Yes! Father, I’ll always be yours. I’m your possession, your property…”

They both panted as Harry’s cock worked its magic inside of her hot cunt. The wetness of her walls surrounding him and coating him was the perfect spot for him to snug into and spill his seed into.

Her lip curled up as she coughed out a loud moan and arched her back, eyes closed and in sheer bliss from her insides being rearranged. She was weak for him and her orgasm couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please! Can I come, Father? Oh my god…”

He could feel her shaking, thighs trembling so hard he had to hold her hips on both sides so she didn’t tip over.

“Aww poor thing. It aches, doesn’t it? Little pet needs to have her release, doesn’t she? Got all stressed out after misspeaking. You can come. Give me your orgasm, Y/n. Let me feel you… want to feel you milking my cock…”

Harry’s own strong thighs were beginning to quiver as his balls began to squeeze up against his body, his release just moments away.

She cried out and tensed as she spasmed and clenched around him, wave after delicious wave of wet orgasm gushing from her until she felt his grip tighten and then his chest brush into her back, his lips on her shoulder, “Come for me, pet. Holy fuck…”

He groaned at how her walls pulsed, beckoning him to come, sucking his cock deep into her tummy with every squeeze until he growled and bit down on her skin, cock pumping and throbbing inside of her.

The priest had considered not letting her come at first. But he was glad he changed his mind because there was nothing better than to have her siphoning his come from his cock as she fluttered around him and her pretty voice whined and begged…

His hot come began to leak out of her pulsing hole as he thrusted in and when he stood back to watch as he pulled out and plunged in again he saw her cream coating him.

Her legs were still wobbly as he pulled out and gently turned her in his arms and pushed his lips to hers. She felt his warm hands on her face and she knew she had nothing to worry about with her priest. He loved her and she knew it without question. Misspeak or not, he wasn’t going to just give up on her because of an accident.

Bumping his nose to hers he whispered against her lips, “I’ll always choose you. Over everything. Don’t ever doubt my love for you, pet.”

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alrtyhoney · 8 months

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TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS

(I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness and I have to sit down for a while– the feeling that I'm losing her forever.)

The rundown: That cake scene with Miles at his father’s bodega party but it’s with Miguel and his universe’s daughter. He’s late and it’s your quinceañera. Content: Father!Miguel O'hara x Daughter!Reader / Angst! (wc: 3844)

There was something oddly peculiar about your father. People would assume that he would be the archetypal absent one who chose to abandon his child; the dead-beat-dad who ultimately never cared for them. You’d argue it wasn’t true– you were fed, you had the weight of what a fifteen year old should have, and education was proper.

You love your papa with all of your heart, but there was no denying the fact that he would never be around often enough. You understood this when you were eight years old, and mornings would bring only a cold breakfast accompanied by a hastily scribbled note from him. He’d leave early– far too early. You tried staying up in an attempt to tell when he gets up and leaves the house, but you swear you don’t hear the door open every time.

Then came twelve and the missed events. Miguel seemed to be missing in action when it came to certain school activities, not showing up for things that he had previously made commitments for. It became more and more frequent as you grew older– you wouldn’t hear from him for days.

He was a man dedicated to his profession, and although you felt pride in what he had achieved, there was this empty space in your heart that hadn’t been filled ever since you were eight. It was said that a child needed the presence of their parents to feel security– to feel important. You never truly understood it, not until you had to endure many nights at dinner alone and the numerous times you spent walking home with nothing but your own thoughts for company.

You had always pondered over the question of whether it was a common phenomenon that fathers seemed to love their daughters less once they had reached teenagehood– or if it was possible for fathers to unlearn being fathers.

“Is your papa coming, bebita?”

The faint notes of classical music filled the air as you sat on the wooden floor, stretching your sore limbs. You observed the ladies who were much older than yourself starting their exercise routines, having come in early before the group class began. You waited for Miguel to pick you up.

– But that had been two hours ago. Your teacher finally worked up the courage to approach you, hesitantly looking for the right words to say. She wasn’t exactly pleased to be the one to let you down, but she’d seen you walk out the studio’s door alone time and time again after you told her that your father would bring you home himself.

“He said he’d come pick me up today.” You spoke, nervously twisting the ends of your skirt. Your teacher had most likely heard these words countless times before from you, but the faint ray of hope in your voice remained firm. “He promised.” You added quietly, praying that maybe it would be different this time.

“Ay, bebita– you know how this ends. You tell me those exact words and you walk out here on your own anyway.” She slightly shook her head, her face softening with a sympathetic smile as she knelt closer to you. “Tell you what, how about I offer to give you a ride home today? I have plenty of snacks in my car that you can enjoy. You can take as many of them as you'd like.”

You took some time to consider it, letting her gently weave her fingers through the strands of curls that couldn't quite fit into a bun. Your lips pursued as you sighed softly, “What if he comes and I’m not here anymore?” You’d hate to miss the opportunity.

Of course you still had faith that he would come, having endured all the other times he had let you down. You were never one to quickly give up on people and your father was the only one you trusted the most— you’d hate to admit that his inconsistency was starting to hurt; digging a deeper wound to the already bleeding cut.

“He’s not coming and I know you know that too.”

She stands up, grunting slightly as she hefts herself up. You knew there was no more room for negotiation anymore when she urged you to come along. She carefully takes your backpack from off your back and drapes it over her own shoulders, “Come on sweetheart, let's get you home.”

The silence in the car was palpable, with no one feeling the need to prod conversation. You hadn't stopped fidgeting with the hem of your bag since you got in, and you could feel your teacher's worried glances burning into you. Your mind was a jumble of emotions that kept bubbling away as they all competed for your attention. What could be his reason this time/?

She switched on the radio in an effort to lighten the tense mood, but when a melancholic tune filled played instead, you couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.

“Is it possible for fathers to unlove their daughters?”

It was a question that took her completely by surprise, so much so that another uncomfortable beat of silence passed before she could respond. The stillness made you regret asking in the first place. Your legs shifted nervously, an unconscious habit which you had never noticed before.

“Of course not,” She muttered, almost inaudibly. “Fathers tend to forget is all.”

But you knew that wasn’t the case.

While Miguel was never home, something else resided on the corners of your house– someone you have never met at all. She smiled back at you from the frame sitting atop your dad's nightstand, wearing the similar blue soccer jersey your school had. She was the picture on his wallet and the little widget on his phone. It was beyond you– the few blue ribbons hidden on the box beneath his bed; the medals, the drawings you know you’ve never drawn or given him. For all you know, the kid didn’t even go to your school.

It wasn’t anything sinister, but in a way she felt like a ghost. A child your father mourned for all his life and you had no idea why.

This was a physical pain in your chest; one that was peeling away the very layers of your heart until it was nothing but ugly– just how could Miguel love a child more than his own? It was ridiculous to feel like you were in competition with someone you barely knew, yet somehow, you felt like you were losing. It felt even more absurd when you considered the possibility that maybe you weren't really his child at all.

“I joined our school’s soccer team today, papa.”

It wasn’t an ordinary occurrence for Miguel to be at the dining table for lunch. But on this Saturday noon, he was there. Sitting across from you, quietly eating his food. Finally, he paused and shifted his gaze towards you, seeming to linger on you longer than normal before looking away, cracking a grin.

“Soccer? You hate sports, mija.” He says, a bit of laughter in his voice. "What made you decide to try out? I don't recall you being the least bit interested before."

Something in his eyes becomes brighter, a sense of familiarity as he eagerly awaits your response– and the thing is, you couldn’t tell him why. Not without addressing the elephant in the room. Maybe you’d hang my medals too? Maybe you’d frame a photo of me? You know well your question reminds him of someone else.

“No reason.”

It was no surprise that you were terrible at it. After barely two seasons, you'd already given up. However it was surprising to see Miguel in the stands during the times that you had a game, but there wasn’t much to watch anyway— not when you’d been relegated to the bench for most of the time. All you felt was shame.

Oddly enough, he didn't question it. He remained silent during the rides back home, his gaze distant and never once looked at you. Had you embarrassed him to an extent where he couldn’t even acknowledge you? Or have you given him the impression that you were just no better than the little girl in his pictures?

You dared not to talk about it too.

Music was your passion; the pulse, the poise and elegance of it all resonating with you deeply. Ballet was something that spoke to you particularly in ways no other art form could. You found a special joy out on stage, a feeling that grew deeper and greater each time you danced.

But like every flame that you desperately try to keep alive, Miguel had a way of snuffing it out.

You remember it all so vividly, even though you'd much rather the memory be nothing more than a faint blur. Your very first recital and yet he wasn't anywhere to be found amongst the audience.

Your focus was a tunnel-vision, only set to finding even a glimpse of him— you had been so determined to find him that you forgot about all of your own movements. Soon, the few wrong turns had turned to missed cues; as soon as the music stopped, you made a run for it.

Your teacher had done her best to console you that day, attempting to coax a smile from you in front of the vanity mirror with its bright lights. She had wrapped her arms around you, doing anything she could to draw even the faintest curve of your lips. But you stayed slumped on your seat, feeling the weight of the unshed tears on your eyes.

The door swung open, finally revealing Miguel; he was out of breath and sweat glistened on his forehead. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his tie was undone, a clear sign that he had run all the way here. He paused for a moment to catch his breath before walking in frantically, eyes looking for you.

His eyes softened at the sight of you in your pretty pink tutu– then the tenderness was replaced with a feeling akin to plummeting one hundred stories down. How could he miss this? How could he let his sweet girl wait? He rushed to your side, sinking down into a kneeling position. He looked upon you with lines creasing his forehead and you already knew what was to come out of his lips.

“I’m sorry muneca, I came as fast as I could.”

The other parents of your classmates started to barge inside the very room, their children giddy with joy and excitement, running to them with beaming smiles. You could hear their loud congratulations– voices singing sweet praises and telling how they looked outstanding on stage. The noise sounded like static in your ears, like their words were unfamiliar to you. They received bouquets of flowers, sweets– gifts for a job well done. Miguel came late and only with apologies.

“You want pretty flowers too, mijita? We can stop by the flower shop a few blocks away from here, you can pick any bouquet you want.” His lips curved into a gentle smile, desperate to make his daughter feel better– the same daughter who wouldn't even meet his gaze. “Papa had to deal with something. I’ll be sure to go to your next recital– pinky promise.”

“But I worked really hard for this.”

You wanted so desperately to blame him; to yell at him for every mistake that you've made on the stage. You felt ashamed, humiliated, and helpless all at once- and still, you couldn’t have the heart to be mad at him.

He looked at you apologetically, "Baby, I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier. How about we talk about the flowers you want to buy instead? There are lots of restaurants nearby as well— you can pick whatever pleases you, just name it." He paused for a moment before continuing, gently nudging your shoulder. “I know how much this meant to you.”

If he did, why couldn’t he have come at all?

You let out a deep sigh, feeling completely ridiculous in your tutu. All of the sudden, the leotard appeared to be two sizes too small and utterly irritating; your tights seemed unbearably itchy. You looked down helplessly, wanting nothing more than to leave this situation behind. “I just want to go home. Can we just leave? Please?” You pleaded softly.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a gesture that conveyed own sinking heart in a way words could not. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly, breath hitching as he gave in to your request instead.

“Of course.”

After that very moment, you'd vowed to yourself never to wait in anticipation of something that may or may not come. You wouldn’t put your faith in any more of your father's promises spoken under the dead of night. It took a toll on you– your naivety had taught you better than before.

But when your fifteenth birthday drew near, you never expected he would go so far.

The locks clicked and whirred as Miguel fumbled with the keys to the front door. You could hear your Father's voice, clearly agitated as he jostled the keys back and forth in an attempt to fit them into the lock. Finally, he steps inside, eyes immediately darting to you.

“You’re not wearing your birthday dress, sweetie. Is something wrong?” He’s wearing a smile, struggling to keep the two boxes of cake upright as he locks the door from behind. The banner is lopsided and the balloons scattered all around seem small– like they’ve been there for days and were starting to deflate themselves. He kisses the top of your head once he gets close, getting a better view of what you were working on on the counter. Homework. “Did you have your friends over today? How was it? Wanna hear all about it.”

And he must have forgotten. You decided to pretend not to hear his question, continuing to jot down notes, only humming at his presence. He settles the boxes down, sitting on the stool beside you.

“I know papa’s late, but you can still go and wear your dress. I want to take pictures– should we order pizza? Do you want something else?” He’s rambling, hurriedly searching for his tone to dial down a few numbers. Miguel turns frantic, looking at the closed signs under every nice restaurant. “Pizza should be fine, mijita– you’ve eaten dinner, right?”

“Not hungry.”

Miguel chuckled, dialing anyway. “Did school suck today, sweetie?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “You know what can cheer you up? Cake. You love cake.”

“I don’t like cake anymore.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. You can feel frustration boiling over inside– and you fear it wasn’t the kind you’ve grown accustomed to suppressing. He was oblivious and it was killing you, hurting you in so many ways possible. “I’m not hungry.” You repeat again.

“Don’t be like that, __. Besides, it’s still tradition.” He stands up to check the drawers, only finding worn out candles from past birthdays. He takes a lighter. “Know what’s better than a cake? Two cakes! You’ll change your mind, go and open the boxes mija,”

Miguel excitedly pressed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you gently forward to open the two boxes of cake. The look in his eyes was that of pure anticipation as he waited eagerly for you to do so. It almost hurt you to tell him the news— that you wanted more than to just take the blame itself. It was conflicting.

You finally got up from the bar stool, settling on your feet in front of the counter. Taking a deep breath, you carefully opened the lid of the boxes. What greeted you had made you visibly recoil– the small flicker of hope that settled in your chest gone as quickly as it came. The cakes were crumbled and the frosting was all over the box, like it had been trampled and tossed around.

Was this all a joke? Were you a joke to him? Your shoulders trembled as you couldn't bring yourself to look away from it; the letter was still visible but amongst the cake crumbs lay written a name– Gabriella. Not happy birthday to you, but Gabi.

You didn’t know what hurt most. Your lips quivered and all you could mutter was, “Gabi?”

His eyes widened in surprise as he quickly moved to your side to take a look at the cake himself. He swiftly closed the lids, shaking his head. “Must’ve been a mistake back at the bakery. I can–”

And you could barely catch your breath, not when the hurt piled over one another.

“Are the medals from her? The one’s from your bed? The trophies?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly irritated. “What did I tell you about snooping around my things, __?”

“Is this the girl–” A ragged inhale cuts your thoughts, “on your nightstand and wallet?” You didn’t even realize you had started to cry, but when another breath had caught itself in your throat, you were inconsolable– finally letting the dam break all at once.

Miguel did nothing to console you– he didn’t know how to. He knew he had messed up royally and all he could do was helplessly watch you break down. Who knows how long you’ve kept this?

“__, come on. It’s just a simple mistake, it’s still cake–”

“And it was my birthday!”

“Baby, what’s the big deal?” He was shocked and understandably so. His sweet, babygirl, who was usually so quiet and docile, was talking back angrily to him– but Miguel knew better than to point fingers. This was his fault– your unbecoming was his own doing.

“You just had to be late– on my birthday!”

“I have work, baby, you know this.”

“That still doesn’t explain anything!” You cried out, desperation flooding your voice. “Why are you never home? Where do you go? Who is Gabriella– why do you love her more than me?” You could feel your breath catch in your throat as your voice rose and trembled with every question. Your breathing grew unsteady and your throat began to close up, not allowing anymore words to come out as much as you wanted to scream. You feared there’d be no more room for air.

And there was something about Gabriella that everytime she was brought up, Miguel would be defensive. Perhaps it was the plenty of times Lyla would reprimand him when she catches him watching the few videos of them or when Jess would pity his state. “Don’t be ridiculous, __. I made a mistake– that’s it. We don’t have to fight.” He says, grabbing a spatula. “If it bothers you so much, here,”

Miguel frustratedly spreads the lettering with the spatula, leaving smudges of red on top of perfectly white frosting, resulting in a more muddled mess. He's making a complete mess of it and you can't bear to watch any longer. Your still figure finally reaches out to grab his wrist, “Stop— stop that! What are you doing?!”

It was no use. The cake was nothing but totally ruined now. You didn’t even have the chance to read the message. He forcefully digs the candles on both, sliding it in front of you. Your eyes stayed on the cake– you didn’t have the heart to look at him. Anger boiled up within you and without a moment's hesitation, the words leaped from your mouth, "You're not listening to me! This is not what I'm so upset about—!"

But he responds in the same loudness as yours, slamming his hands down on the cold tiles of your countertop. “Okay, champ, you got it– go for it! Say what you have to say,” A sarcastic chuckle left his lips, adding insult to the already deep wound. “What do you have to tell me so bad?”

And you didn’t think it was possible for silence to be more deafening, but as you stared each other down, all you could think of was how maybe Miguel was worse than the archetypal absent one who chose to abandon his child or the dead-beat-dad who ultimately never cared for them.

You were right. Fathers were capable of unloving their daughters and the way his dark eyes burned into yours was all the answer you needed. This wasn’t your papa– did you ever know him?

“My birthday was two days ago.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, doubt creasing his forehead as he looked back to the calendar hung on the fridge. His gaze resting on your birthday date, the red circle mocking him in vivid reminder— two days ago. Your birthday was two days ago. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt nothing but guilt tying his stomach in knots.

“Mijita–” He’s quick to console you, the anger in his words disappearing immediately and turning into an apologetic one– but every time he’d try to move forward, you’d only step back. Miguel couldn’t even bear to think how you’ve celebrated on your own. How you waited for him all night in your birthday dress. He subtly shook his head, trying his best not to clog his mind yet.

He needed to make it up to you. He couldn’t lose you too.

“My birthday– why did you have to take it?” You rubbed your eyes harshly, but the more you wiped the tears away, the more they seemed to fall. “It’s mine and I still had to wait for you to be able to sing the song. It’s my day and all I could think of was what time you might come home tonight.”

You wanted nothing more than for him to run to you with open arms, to let you cry on his shoulders– but as his silence stretched on, you mistook it as nothing but ruthless. He simply didn’t care. Miguel was too much of a wall for that.

The look you gave him was nothing but hate– a look no parent wants to ever come across and it almost makes him stagger back. It was like what he had done was the most disgusting– most inconsolable act ever beyond repair and all he could do was watch; watch as another daughter of his slip through his fingers. He’s holding you like water and he doesn’t know how to keep you in.

You scoffed, averting your gaze. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine by me.” You turned your back, letting out another shaky exhale. You couldn’t look at him the same– not after this.

“You make it really, really, hard to feel like a daughter.”

And with that, you run to your room, leaving Miguel to stay rooted to where he stood. He thinks to himself– had he taken that from you too?

#alrighty honey ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara atsv #father!miguel o'hara x daughter!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #father figure miguel o'hara #atsv angst #atsv #spiderman #across the spider verse angst

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hells-wasabii · 1 month

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hello :33

Could i request a drabble with Alastor x reader who can break deals made by demons

He meets the reader, who comes into the hotel, and they make a deal that is totally bad on their end (like to let them touch his ears once and in return they will do his bidding forever and ever).

But then after getting Alastor to do his part, they break the deal, and Alastor and everyone else is dumbfounded. (he is equally pissed and intrigued)

I looooooove your writing and congratulations on 200 followers!! :3

A/N: Hey wait I know you! You were one of my first followers! Thanks for sending this in, it’s seriously a cool concept and was pretty fun to work on! I actually hadn’t planned on it being so long, but I hope you enjoy!

Character: Alastor

Type: Fic (Alastor x reader with a deal breaking ability, Fluff, Angst)

Alastor knew when he was being watched, he could practically feel your eyes on him from across the room. His smile turned tense as he narrowed his eyes at the little display that Niffty was attempting to show him. Though, she really couldn’t be bothered whether he was paying attention or not. Alastor couldn’t help but wonder: why was it you were staring at him so intently?

You were an enigma to Alastor. You were a guest of the hotel, and yet of you he knew next to nothing other than a name and a knack for mischief. As far as he could tell, you were ordinary. A specimen that did little to pique his interest. The radio demon turned his attention from Niffty’s insect display to look at you from the corner of his eyes. He watched with unease as you smiled knowingly at him, almost as if you knew something that he didn’t and he was the last to be left in the dark.

“I want to make a deal with you.”

Now that, that got his attention. The words had left your mouth so effortlessly. It was barely a whisper and yet it was enough to make his shadow move across the room to tower over you. If you noticed, you didn’t let it show. Perhaps that should have been his first sign that something was amiss.

In moments Alastor was mere inches away, a grin that couldn’t be described as anything else but plotting splitting his lips. “And what is it that I can do for you, my dear?” Behind him, his shadow waited impatiently, hungry for a meal, a soul. And Alastor planned to feed it.

“I want to touch your ears,” You said it with such confidence, so much so that it nearly took him aback. In fact, there was hardly a pause or even a moment of consideration. It sounded more like an impulse than anything else.

Surely he was hearing things. His… Ears? What kind of preposterous request is that? And to offer your soul for such a thing? Preposterous. Surely you had lost your mind before or since your arrival. But perhaps it was an even trade-off, considering his aversion to touch. Truly, he couldn’t see himself losing to a fool’s deal like this.

It was all standard, really. The matter was settled in a shake of the hand, markings and sigils appearing in the air and lining the walls around the both of you. And of course the rest of the Hotel’s residents, guests and staff alike came along to see what the fuss and light show was about. Alastor didn’t make deals every day after all? When had been the last time he had struck a deal for a soul? He could hardly remember as your hand left his.

“Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?” As if you needed any more invitation than that. Stepping closer, you reached up. Had it not been for the fact that the radio demon had no choice but to hold up his end of the bargain, you were sure that getting this close would either reward you with a stern warning or the loss of a limb. Anyone else would have hesitated, but not you. Not when you had an ace up your sleeve the way you did.

The moment that your fingers brushed the appendages on the top of the radio demon’s head, your mouth opened into a fine ‘o’ shape. They were unbelievably soft. Usually, the pelt of a deer is coarse, the hair only smooth when you go with the grain, and prickly when against. But with Alastor, it felt more like fur than the usual coarse hair of a buck. Interesting.

The radio demon did his best to steel himself, unwilling to show any sort of reaction, especially with an audience present. His expression nearly fell as he realized that the rest of the Hotel’s residents were bearing witness to such an embarrassing situation. He made a note to attempt to save face later.

When it was finally over, his smile turned sinister. He relished the feeling of a new leash, a new bond, forming in the palm of his hand. The radio demon couldn’t help but love the way a new wave of power coursed through him He watched with glee as the chain began to form, link by link until it came to an end at the binding around your neck. But you merely smiled. This was his second clue that something was a miss.

He lifted his gaze to follow your hand, as you raised it up to grasp the glowing green bond. He watched as it strained, the shackle and the chain before it shattered in a manner that was not unlike glass. He could feel it, the broken bond. He could feel the power that had just coursed through his veins leave his body.

His lips twitched. His smile nearly fell, in fact, the overlord was certain that if it hadn’t been for the green stitches that appeared as he slipped into his demonic form, he was sure that he would have bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl. Instead, Alastor lost his composure. He reached out to grab ahold of you, but you were already two steps ahead and three out of range of the radio demon.

“What is the meaning of this.” The radio in Alastor’s voice crackled, a grating sound that nearly made you falter.

But you merely grinned, continuing to back away towards the others. “Deals are always meant to be broken.” With this, you turned on your heels and were out the door before more could be said.

You. You were exactly what he needed. But how could he possibly have you do anything in his favor without some sort of leverage or contract? It had been quite some time since someone had provoked his ire like this, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be bested like this. Not by a long shot. Alastor stood tall, dusting off his tattered coat, as if it had been sullied in some form or fashion as he watched you make your leave. It would seem that the radio demon had quite a bit of work to do.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin imagine #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor

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kamaluhkhan · 2 months

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I BET ON LOSING DOGS

ENVY — part ii of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (she/her pronouns) word count: 1.6k summary: luke is getting tired of keeping your relationship a secret, you get a new sparring partner, and silena beauregard wins a bet. warnings/disclaimers: jealous!luke, suggestive but no smut, biting + some blood bc of course author's note: i had to include some friend group shenanigans and silena x clarisse moments ♡ i'm imagining that this takes place during tlt/season 1 of pjo when the kids are on their quest, and the characters are slightly aged up to 20/21 years old....anyways, enjoy and feel free to reblog + comment :)

♪ "i bet on losing dogs" by mitski

"rumor has it that lee wants to ask her out."

silena tilts her head towards the other end of the ping pong table, where you sit next to lee fletcher, a pair of wired earbuds and an mp3 player shared between you as everyone waits for the senior counselor meeting to start.

luke clears his throat. “why would he want to do that?”

in theory, it shouldn’t bother luke: how you and lee nod along to music only the two of you can hear, how your shoulder presses against his ever so slightly, how he seems to lean into you even further.

you and lee had always been friendly, but since when did you become such close friends?

“hm. let’s see. she’s strong, gorgeous, the right amount of dangerous, and perfectly single.”

again, luke pretends that he doesn’t feel something ignite in the pit of his stomach.

as far as everyone is concerned, you and luke are friends, too.

the rush you both got from the whole secret relationship thing was fun, but, gods, sometimes luke wanted nothing more than to show everyone you were his and he was yours.

“sounds like you’re the one who wants to ask her out.”

silena rolls her eyes. “please. i’m a happily taken woman.” clarisse turns to them as if she knew she’s been referenced. silena blows her a kiss before adding: “can’t really say the same for y/n, can we? i think her and lee would make a cute couple.”

chiron finally enters the room before luke has a chance to respond. he sits through the whole meeting, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists.

throughout the day, luke reminds himself that he’s the one you’re with. and silena’s theory that you and lee would make a good couple?

ridiculous. laughable. unimaginable.

later, during swordfighting, you and lee practice together. any time luke is leading a session, you usually pair up with silena, but she seems to have twisted her ankle. not enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary, just a seat on the sidelines.

luke has no doubt that she’s trying to work her daughter of aphrodite, matchmaker magic.

between teaching the younger campers, luke glances at the two of you, yours swords colliding and limbs occasionally intersecting. luke demonstrates a new technique, eyes sliding over to you, positioning yourself behind lee and correcting his form by gently adjusting his hips. something bubbles in the pit of his stomach.

gods, if he could switch places with lee fletcher.

you square up for another round, but the fight is over relatively quickly. even with the advice you seemed to have given lee, you manage to get him on the ground, straddling his waist while you point your sword at his chin. you smile down at lee, canines sparkling in the afternoon sun.

luke remembers what silena had said earlier, about you — the right amount of dangerous.

out the corner of his eye, luke can see silena gazing dreamily at the pair of you, no doubt overjoyed that a new romance seems to be blossoming.

overjoyed is certainly not a word luke would use for himself now, as you lift your shirt to wipe the sweat from your brow. for a split second, your entire torso is visible to everyone. including lee, whose eyes seem to linger on the tattoo on your ribs for a little too long.

luke tells the kids to pair up and practice before walking over to your side of the arena.

“hey,” you exhale, dropping your shirt and smiling at him.

luke doesn’t waste any more time, though, and crashes his lips onto yours.

he thinks you start to melt into the kiss, but then you bite down on his bottom lip — hard.

“ow!” he turns away to spit out some blood. “why did you —”

“you just landed me two weeks of extra laundry!”

“i…what?”

if silena looked overjoyed before, she’s ecstatic now, practically skipping over to where you stood, her ankle miraculously healed.

“aha! i win — again! that’ll teach you to question a daughter of aphrodite, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

luke, slightly lightheaded, has no clue what is happening. things don’t get any clearer as chris, clarisse, and beckdorf join you.

chris shoves luke’s shoulder. “bro, you just cost me 30 drachmas!”

“seriously, dude,” beckendorf shakes his head. “you couldn’t have kept it in your pants for, like, a few more days?”

“okay, but lena totally cheated,” clarisse huffs, stabbing her spear into the ground.

“what! how?”

“you used lee to make him jealous!” the boy in question waves at you awkwardly before walking off to the archery range.

“i did not cheat. i had a strategy, and just needed to add some drama to move things in my favor,” silena reasons. “besides, all’s fair in love and war. i’m sorry you had to find out this way, baby. ”

she plants a kiss on clarisse’s cheek, which does make clarisse’s lips turn up ever so slightly, despite the accompanying eye roll.

“okay, is someone going to tell me what’s going?”

you sigh and swipe your thumb over luke’s bottom lip, wiping away more crimson liquid that had emerged thanks to your bite.

“i found out a few days ago that our lovely friends placed bets on when we were going to tell them about our relationship.”

“wait….” luke looks around at everyone. “you all knew? since when?”

“the whole time.” you grin sheepishly. “apparently, we weren’t as subtle as we thought we were.”

“you weren’t subtle at all,” beckendorf corrects, hands fiddling with some spare bolts he kept in his pocket.

“love is difficult to hide,” silena defends, like you’re her favorite couple on a reality dating show. “the amount of times you’d both show up late to the dining pavilion together, with your clothes and hair messed up was enough to give you away. not to mention, the way you look at each other.”

“yeah, like two idiots in love,” clarisse mockingly agrees with silena, who jabs her in the ribs playfully. clarisse gestures to her orange camp shirt. “by the way, these aren’t designed to hide hickeys. there are children here to think of.”

“be thankful you don’t have to hear them on the roof of the hermes cabin every night. it’s a wonder any of us get to sleep.”

"oh, and then there’s the showering at weird times and then smelling like the same body wash —”

“moving on,” you interrupt, much to luke’s appreciation. “when i figured out what they had going on, i wanted a piece of the action.”

luke looks at you, teetering the line between frustration and awe. “so, instead of telling me about this bet and finally having everything out in the open, you got in on it and kept me in the dark, just to get someone else to do your laundry?”

“you know how much i hate laundry,” you shrug. “besides, like you wouldn’t do the same if you had been in my position.”

“well….” you raise an eyebrow. “yeah. i would,” luke admits.

despite everything, luke is a son of hermes. he’s pretty sure that’s part of why you love him: for his mischievous grins and vices that were woven into his dna, imposed by the fates themselves. the urge to gamble, steal, sneak around, all the lying — everything you couldn’t help but indulge in, as well. clearly.

you smile, and pull the front of his shirt towards you, kissing him like you’re proving a point. if luke wasn’t so preoccupied, he could have heard silena squealing in delight.

“ow!” you groan as luke bites your lip.

luke smirks. “karma,” he teases, relishing in how you pout for him.

“get a room,” clarisse grumbles.

“preferably not in the hermes cabin, please,” chris cringes, and this time luke is the one to shove his shoulder.

it’s a little too silent in the arena, and luke realizes it’s because you’d all just given them quite a show. a few campers were watching eagerly, while others didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest, only taking advantage of the lack of supervision to goof off. luke tells the campers to keep practicing; you tell your friends to give you and luke some privacy.

“40 drachmas that they’ll break up at the end of summer,” chris offers, and luke really wishes that he’d shut up.

“nah, i think it’ll be sooner,” clarisse adds. “maybe right after the solstice.”

“i don’t know, guys. i have a good feeling about this one,” beckendorf says. “i think they’re gonna last.”

“thank you, charlie. i think they’re soulmates,” silena muses.

luke watches as the corners of your mouth turn up slightly, listening to your friends as they walk away.

“so.” he hooks a finger through one of your belt loops to get your attention again. “everyone knows.”

“everyone knows.” you smile at him. “so, what do you think, tiger? are beck and lena right — that we’re gonna last?”

he can sense that there’s something more behind your teasing inflection. you’re gnawing on the inside of your lip, discreetly picking at your nail polish.

even with the front you put up, sarcastic and cutthroat and sharp as your celestial bronze knife, you still had a heart. and here you were, looking at luke like he had already stolen it, and you didn’t care.

you were just waiting to know if he would break it.

but, luke doesn’t have the heart to tell you how this is going to end.

how could he? he’d given up his to you, years ago.

he can keep pretending, for now, so he will.

“i’d bet my life on it.”

#yeah....this is def angstier than i thought it would be #also i feel like you can really tell ive been rewatching twilight with all the biting + blood....#but i guess that's the vibe??#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan pjo #pjo show #pjo series #pjo fanfic #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #saf writes

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llamagoddessofficial · 1 month

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llama i must know

do you have any thoughts about siren bad sanses? 👉👈(//ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠//)

do i

Horror: Now, Skull is a cecaelia. But I think Horror would be a little different. A big frightening toothed whale - particularly, a Risso's dolphin. Risso's dolphins have a cool effect where any time they get an injury, their scars lose pigment and remain white forever. Horror is slowly turning whiter and whiter as time goes on.

Just like usual, he used to be normal sized, but his injury kickstarted a bizarre growth spurt and he's become far larger than he ever should've. He enjoys targeting boats - since he's so big he can easily sink small ships, his favourite 'game' is ramming vessels and seeing who survives after the ship rolls over. He eats anyone who drowns.

I can imagine him falling in love with you from the water, and rocking your boat purely to get your attention. If you ignore him he slams into the hull in frustration. He'd never sink your boat, of course... not unless you were really, REALLY ignoring him, and he lost his temper.

Dust: An oceanic whitetip shark. The beautiful dark colouring. The 'dusty' white edges of the fins and tail. A solitary, wandering creature that's probably responsible for many of the open-water shark attacks attributed to other species... IMO, it's absolutely perfect.

Before joining Nightmare, he travelled long distances in isolation, avoiding large vessels or groups but hunting down and killing anyone (or anything) he caught alone. He'll follow prey for weeks; he often waits for people on boats to go stir crazy before he attacks.

He's a distant admirer. He'll stalk from afar, but come closer at night, when it's hard to distinguish his dark shape against the moonlit sea. He thinks you'll be a very pretty siren.

Killer: @aka-indulgence suggested Killer is a bull shark and she's absolutely right. Killer is hyperactive and murderous, but incredibly loyal to those he cares about (even if he won't admit he cares). Bull sharks are fast, notoriously aggressive, yet surprisingly social.

Killer just enjoys... well, killing. He sometimes plays with his prey, but the games are never as forgiving as Horror's, or as patient as Dust's. He likes to bite the limbs off of his targets and watch them struggle to get away.

He's extremely friendly to you. Worryingly so. He lacks any subtlety, he'll come right up to your boat and put his arms over the edge when he wants your attention, flirting like you didn't just watch him murder another siren in cold blood. A swift strike with an oar is usually enough to ward him off - but unfortunately, it never seems to chase him away permanently.

Nightmare: He isn't any one species. He's much, much older. He was something else before his corruption... but times change, don't they? If you don't know what to call him, he certainly doesn't mind the ego stroke of being called a kraken.

Obviously it would be ridiculous of me to make Nightmare anything other than a cecaelia. He's large, scary, black as midnight sea, beautifully bioluminescent when he wants to be. He has attributes of lots of different deep-sea creatures; retractable hooks in his tentacles, a toxic bite, terrifying teeth, incredible vision. He's not the kind of thing you want to encounter underwater. Ever.

The other sirens would be very reluctant to let Nightmare know you exist. But when all three of his underlings are chasing the same prey... well. You'll catch his eye sooner or later.

#llamagines #cw drowning #killer comes back to nightmare with a huge mark on his face (you hit him with the broadside of an oar when he called you a snack)

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doobean · 4 months

Text

AND BACK AGAIN ━ BAROU SHOEI + NAGI SEISHIRO

synopsis: Nagi doesn't know which one he should be more afraid of: your pink silicone strap on, or your boyfriend's giant cock.

contents: afab!fem!reader, dom!reader, sub!nagi, established relationship (barou + reader), m/m/f, oral (male + female receiving), handjobs, face sitting, barounagi elements, pegging, anal (male receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampies wc: 3.2k a/n: starting off the new year strong with this fic LMAO a shameless part two of THIS that nobody asked for. Beta’d by @pipppinn

It starts with an awful joke. A gag gift from you on his birthday.

In the box, which you had neatly wrapped in cacti themed paper, stands a big, pink dildo with a flared base and belt. You flash a wink at him while Barou only grumbles under his breath in the seat next to you, shoving the last slice of cake in his mouth. Nagi’s honestly surprised that he’s still hanging around you two, surprised that his old college roommate hasn’t killed him yet in his sleep for all the sexual and non-sexual acts he’s committed within the past two months.

It’s almost unspoken at this point, Nagi notices. No one has brought up the status of the relationship, but Nagi thinks whatever this is, it doesn’t necessarily need an explanation. More often than not, Nagi spends his weekends over, body pressed against whomever he didn’t piss off that day, and participating in acts that his best friend might lose his shit over.

“You’re in an open relationship?!” Reo gawked at him during brunch one day.

Nagi hadn’t seen him since his business trip in Hong Kong earlier in the year. The last time Nagi remembered telling Reo before he boarded the plane was probably something unrelated to his growing crush on you and Barou. And, during this friendly catch up meal, Reo almost gagged on his steak when he did tell him about his feelings and what you guys have done.

“Not open,” Nagi corrected, because he’s pretty sure that you and Barou aren’t sexually seeing anyone else other than him and, if you guys were, well he’d feel pretty upset over it. “Polyamorous is what people call it.”

Needless to say, Reo needed a moment to rewire his brain to understand just how Nagi, self proclaimed loser and bum, got himself between the power couple on the block. Nagi’s also waiting for that answer, too. Though, he might just get to understand a little bit better tonight.

Nagi knows it’s only half a joke and half a misguided attempt to help improve the bedroom sex life, which was already phenomenal in his opinion, when you tell him, “I think you would look cute with this.”

To which, he responds, “Mine is bigger.”

That makes Barou scoff, “She clearly meant with it inside of you, dumbass.” And Nagi thinks the name is slightly endearing, coming from a man like Barou.

But now the thought of this, the fleshy, realistic looking penis, inside of his ass? Nagi laughs, and he’s not really sure what to make of it. You’re giggling, hiding your face in your hands. At this sight, Nagi can’t stop the curious little voice in the back of his head that wonders what using it would be like.

The strap-on ends up sitting on your vanity as the three of you attempt to wrap up his mini birthday celebration. Barou’s gift turns out to be more thoughtful than Nagi originally would’ve thought. He had given him a grow lamp and a light meter for Choki. Barou then starts explaining the process and science behind it, but Nagi zones out the moment he throws in the words ‘photosynthesis’ and ‘self-care’ because Nagi was sure Barou was scolding him afterwards.

The sex toy appears by his face again when the three of you are laying in bed, limbs entangled with one another. You’re holding it in your hands, suspending towards the ceiling light to read the fine print on the side of the fake penis.

“Perfectly sized for beginners. The pink curved tip is made for working her g-spot or his p-spot,” you’re the only one laughing at the comment while Nagi and Barou exchange a look. “It’ll be fun, don’t you think, Sei?”

It would be a complete joke to Nagi if he were to lie about his curiosity. Since he’s first seen it, he can’t stop thinking about it. He takes the toy in his hands when you toss it to him. Nagi weighs it in his hands, then runs his fingers over the ridges and fake veins. It’s firm, yet still soft, and his own dick is now currently twitching at the mere idea of it up his ass.

His role in your relationship was to always dominate both you and Barou, as surprising as others would assume. He’s stuck his dick in Barou more times than he has with your mouth and between your breasts, which also kinda says a lot — but he’s not ready for that emotional conversation with a certain grumpy lion just yet.

“Shoei, how does it feel when I stick it in?” Nagi successfully dodges a pillow that’s thrown his way because Barou still isn’t used to him calling him by his first name. What a tsun, he thinks.

“Why the fuck are you asking me that now?”

“Because you always complain about how full—”

“I do not complain about—”

“Boys,” you pinch both of their cheeks in unison, applying the pressure and strength of an entire wrestling team in your fingers. “Calm down for just a second. Shoei, it’s his birthday, he’s just curious.”

Bingo.

Although his cheek hurts like hell, Nagi loves it whenever you end up siding with him. It always sets something dangerous and delirious off in the other male and Nagi loves getting the back handed treatment from it later on.

“Well,” Barou sighs and flushes, quite badly, while trying to say the rest as casually as he can. “It’s tight, no shit. Feels like sometimes my ass might tear from how rough you’re going… but it’s a good feeling once you get used to the size.” Barou coughs out the last bit into a fist.

Nagi shifts his face towards your chest and nuzzles against it, humming in content. “Hm, is that so? Doesn’t sound too bad, I guess.”

You giggle again and press a small kiss to his forehead, it makes Nagi melt a little bit. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, actually.” you tell him, voice low and smoldering. “Plus, we’re all squeaky clean from the shower and have nothing to do for the rest of the night…” you trail off and glance at Barou, waiting for his reaction.

His response comes in the form of sitting up and grabbing Nagi by the thighs, positioning him face down against the pillows. Nagi feels his face burning up, feeling mildly exposed in this position despite being fully clothed, and he hears your weight shift around on the mattress, the sounds of metal clicking together, and then more giggling.

Nagi doesn’t dare to move when Barou reaches over and pulls his sweats down to his thighs, and he doesn’t say anything when the other male begins tugging at his length by his side. Nagi bites back an embarrassingly loud moan as the cool surface of the dildo trails down his ass combined with Barou’s erotic handjob. He’s more turned on than ever in his entire life. His dick is painfully rock hard from just a few touches and a piece of plastic, soon he’s forming a damp spot on the mattress sheets as your hands start to knead his ass.

You press a trail of kisses down his back as your lubed fingers circle around his entrance. Nagi lets out a shudder when a finger slips in. It feels strange, this sensation, the pressure of something penetrating him. You take your time prepping him, cooing and sending reassurance to him but Nagi can’t seem to focus on anything right now. He starts to buck his hips against Barou’s hands, slowly getting addicted to the feeling of his ass getting probed. You soon add another finger, curling, and thrusting them in and out, while pressing wet kisses on his ass.

“You’re doing so well, Seishiro,” you praise, voice breathless. Hearing his full name while getting treated like this, it feels so fucking nice to Nagi.

You then curl your digits again, this time to the left, and pleasure surges through Nagi’s entire body. The stretch and pull of his walls, it’s delicious, and Nagi starts incoherently babbling. Both you and Barou take notice and fasten up the pace, following the cues of his whiney voice and body until he’s completely out of breath and ends up hugging the pillow close, burying his face in it.

“I want more—” he gasps.

“Think you’re ready?” Barou grunts out as he brushes some of Nagi’s sweat covered bangs from his face. Slowly, Nagi glances up at him, the usual banter and light teasing dies in his throat as he nods weakly.

The coolness from the dildo comes back again as you run it over his ass, slick with lubricant. One of your hands is gently stroking the side of his hips while the other positions the plastic length up against his entrance. Nagi sharply inhales and sinks his teeth into the pillow as the tip edges itself inside, tears already threatening to spill.

It hurts, to say the least. There’s a small twinge of pleasure, but it’s mostly just burning pain, nothing like the expertise and gentleness of your fingers earlier. Nagi groans loudly when he finally bottoms you out and buries his face deeper into the pillow, trying his best to muffle the incoming sounds.

He feels Barou raking his callous fingers through his white locks, tenderly, mumbling that the pain will subside soon while his other free hand is still occupied on Nagi’s cock.

Nagi feels his heart pounding in his chest, and there’s a heat under his skin that’s making him feel almost lightheaded. He leans into Barou’s touch and can only make out a quiet noise signaling that he understood because, everything right now, is just too much.

You begin moving your hips in small increments, testing the size and his body’s reactions. “Are you okay?” You ask, voice soft as you thrust shallowly.

Okay would be an understatement. Nagi doesn’t know which is hotter: being fucked by you, having his dick being milked by Barou, or learning that he loves having his ass played with. Whichever it is, this is just about the hottest thing he can possibly imagine. Just like as Barou said, the pain subsides fairly quickly as Nagi slowly adjusts to the dildo a bit more every time you tilt your hips.

“Y-Yeah—” Nagi pants, twisting his fists into the bedsheets. “Give me more, please…”

You let your thrusts grow deeper, faster, and the sounds from Nagi intensify in volume as the feeling grows fuller. He cranes his neck around to get a good look at you, wanting to see what kind of expression you wear when you’re fucking him, and the sight makes him feel like he’s breathing for the first time.

You’re beautiful. The way your breasts bounce, half hanging out from your bra, your eyes are half-lidded with arousal as you watch him, gaze filled with liquid fire, intense and downright intoxicated. Nagi lets out another loud moan when you angle your hips to the left, hitting that special spot inside of him, causing his toes to curl and eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Suddenly, a pair of rough hands grips the sides of his face and Nagi’s forced to face with Barou’s own raging arousal. “You’re being so fucking loud.” Barou presses his leaking tip against Nagi’s already gaping mouth.

It doesn’t take Nagi much convincing before lurching forward and swallowing Barou’s thick tip, lapping at his pre and watching the way his defined abs tighten with every lick. When you press against his prostate and make him sob in desperation, Nagi hollows out his cheeks and takes Barou’s length deeper with vigor, like he’s the only thing tethering him to the ground as you threaten to take his soul from his body.

Barou’s breath is ragged as his hips press deeper into his mouth, grinding into him with incremental thrusts that are almost too much, sending dizziness to Nagi’s head. Drool drips down his lips, Barou’s cock on his tongue feels heavy and full, but it’s slightly more bearable when Nagi looks up through his teary lashes at the other male’s flushed expression.

There’s a moment, a pause, where all he hears is breathing.

And then movement.

Both you and Barou set the pace to be harsh and frantic, any sort of slight movement and Nagi finds himself wailing, the sensation being completely all consuming. No matter how much he wants to flail around, your hands are glued to his hips and Barou isn’t letting go of his face easily unless it’s for a momentary air break.

Nagi immediately feels something coiling in his stomach when one of your hands glides down his ass to cup his balls, fondling them gently. He whines against Barou’s cock and bucks into the mattress desperately, the rest of his limbs trembling.

“Do you want to take this every night?” You ask, giving his balls a slight squeeze. Nagi’s walls tighten around the dildo when you thrust it deeper, his cock dripping a steady stream of precum onto the bed. Then, you lean forward, he hears you and Barou exchange lewd moans and cries above him, before continuing, “Or do you want Shoei to fuck you? Want him to put his cock in you and spill his seed in your ass? I bet he’d cum buckets in your greedy little hole.”

Nagi bites into the pillow to keep the ragged sounds at bay, but it isn’t enough to contain the broken sob that tears through his throat as Barou finally pulls away, leaving behind a sloppy, thick trail of saliva. “I-I want…”

Barou is looking down at him and Nagi wants to feel upset, wants to say something witty back, but he can’t help but to think what he would feel like inside of him.

Barou rubs his arousal and repositions himself to the back. You chuckle, knowing the answer, and slowly pull out, giving Nagi’s ass a farewell slap before kissing Barou. “Be careful with him, okay?”

“You’re going to baby him too much,” Barou grunts, but the way he places his hands on Nagi’s hips, carefully flipping him over so that he’s resting flat on his back, and the way he ebbs his tip over his hole — it’s gentle and almost tender.

You discard the strap-on and hover over Nagi’s face, your thumbs brushing over his perky nipples as you begin to lower yourself on his face. “Make me cum, cutie.”

“Mhm,” he bites his lips to stifle a moan as Barou begins sliding his length in.

Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than the dildo.

Nagi almost wants to scream as another rush of arousal courses through him.

It stretches Nagi even further as his walls clenched around his cock, balls tightening and cock jumping against his own stomach. He lets out a high, choked breath as you fully lower yourself on top, the sweetness of your folds engulf his senses and your hands immediately dart towards Nagi’s length, encasing it in a tight grip. You stop to palm at his tip until he’s whimpering and squirming, his hips rising into short, aborted thrusts, before you work your hand down to the base again.

Nagi’s knees rise, heels digging into the mattress, from the overstimulation and Barou takes this opportunity to quicken the pace. He takes hold of Nagi’s legs, setting them around his waist, and breathes heavily through his nose with several snaps of his hips. You thumb his leaking slit at the same time, gathering them up in your palm, and smearing the precum all over his head and around his shaft until Nagi is jolting and crying at every thrust.

“T-Too much—! I’m gonna—” but the rest of the words drown out, erased from Nagi’s mind, and he feels himself coming undone by your hands, streaks of heavy white painting his lower stomach and chest.

“Easy there, Seishiro,” you rasp out, hands finding home on his chest and you begin to fuck yourself on his tongue until he feels your slick liquid dripping down his throat.

You cum with a cry, cursing up a storm, thighs shaking around his head that makes him foggy and dizzy, before rolling off and slumping to his side. You close the distance between his lips, tasting yourself and swallowing the rest of his sobs and pleas as Barou chases his own end.

“We got you,” you murmur, pulling away and kissing Barou in turn.

Everything still feels new and electrifying as Nagi is slowly trying to calm himself from his release — the burning in his thighs from hugging Barou’s waist, the steady rhythm pounding against his prostate, listening to the other male’s quiet but rough groans with every snap, the possessive grip on his hips — it’s an addictive feeling. Nagi doesn’t fight when the heavy feeling drapes over and swallows him whole, he doesn’t tamper with the urge to writhe and whine, and lets Barou devour him whole when he finally cums inside.

Barou exits him so abruptly that Nagi can’t help but moan at the suddenness of his absence. He whimpers pitifully and thrusts up into the empty air, twisting on top of the sweat soaked sheets until a warm hand settles along the line of his brow.

“Hey, calm down,” it’s Barou and he’s wearing a concerned expression, much to Nagi’s surprise. He lays himself beside Nagi and blows out a deep breath, covering his reddened face with palms. “Sorry if I was rough.”

On the other side of Nagi, he hears you sigh loudly, applying a chaste kiss to his cheeks before also settling down. “Did you like that, Sei?”

“Yeah,” he hums, and instinctively lays his head on your shoulder. “Felt really good, thanks…”

Then, you say, without missing a beat, “Wished you two would just admit your feelings for each other.”

Barou’s cheeks flush and he tries to turn away to hide it, forgetting for a moment that Nagi is right there and gets a faceful of his surprised eyes. Instead of getting up, Barou glowers up at the ceiling. “There’s nothing to admit, he’s just a fuck buddy to us.”

“Sure thing,” you snort back and add another kiss to Nagi’s cheek, almost to sooth out the forming pang in his chest from hearing his words. “Maybe meeting earlier would’ve been neat? Imagine you guys becoming friends in middle school or something!”

Barou doesn’t know how to respond to that, and it’s you who ends up laughing, light and airy. Nagi stays silent and just grips around your waist, burrowing himself into your chest, inhaling your scent and lightly sucking at the area.

“We should probably take another bath,” Barou says lowly.

“Can we wait till later? I’m pretty tired and fucked out.” Nagi finally speaks but his voice is weak.

Barou looks like he was about to object to that but you quickly flash him a look and he shuts his mouth, only nodding and then pulling the blankets over the three of you. Nagi feels Barou massaging his back for a bit before eventually draping his arms over his waist. Nagi’s head stays cushioned on you while your fingers play with his hair.

Everything about this feels nice and domestic, it makes Nagi wish he could be with you two permanently instead of thinking about the ‘what if’s’.

#q'd for the new year!!#doobean writes #bllk smut #bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #barou shoei smut #blue lock smut #barou shoei x reader #barou x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi x reader #blue lock x female reader #bllk x female reader #barou shouei #barou smut

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bby-deerling · 1 month

Text

she's out of my life (law x reader)

part of my 1600 follower event (ignore that i've been putting this off forever, i've rewritten this like 4 times)! prompt is: so i've learned, that love's not possession, and i've learned, that love won't wait, now i've learned, that love needs expression, but i've learned too late

cw: hurt/comfort, angst, night terrors, angst with a happy ending, law is bad with emotions

tagging: @willowbelle @sanjisjuul @eelnoise @sanjisprincesswifey @ragethebunny @kaizokuniichan @mirillua @cloudzoro @risenwrites @atanukileaf

wc: 655 masterlist || commissions

So determined to keep you safe by not fully opening his heart and mind to you, Law hadn’t even realized he was losing you.

He hadn’t been hurting you consciously, and didn’t put the pieces fully together until you cornered him and released a floodgate of emotions that had been steadily creeping up on you for months. You had a laundry list of complaints—none of them completely unwarranted. Despite the way he would often fume with jealousy at the slightest hint of provocation, he kept you at arm’s length, unable to open up in the way that you had for him. He was a vampire, feeding from you, doing nothing but take as he ignored the tears in your eyes that begged for something, anything in return.

You were done—you’d made up your mind before the conversation had even started, and there was nothing he could do or say to change your mind.

He grabs your wrist as you move to leave, and a swell of hope floods his chest as you turn around, only for it to be snuffed out as your hand smacks him brutally hard across the face. A mixture of pain and tingles from the aftershock spread through his cheek and make him unbearably dizzy as his ears ring unbearably loud; his legs weaken not long after, collapsing under the weight of his own mistakes.

The burning slap across his face dampens into soft taps across his cheeks, and the metaphorical weight on his chest feels so much more tangible as his vision goes fuzzy and fades to black. Far away mumbles of his name sprinkled in between soft pleas for him to wake up become clearer as his mind rolls around in his skull, disoriented and deep in shock. The sweet sound of your voice coaxes him back into lucidity, though the sight of you hovering over him, thighs on either side of his torso and your worried gaze locked onto his stormy, glazed over eyes does little to soothe his racing heart. Chapped lips press roughly against his cheek as the palm of your hand cups his face; many nights on both your parts had been spent comforting each other after being trapped in the throes of a night terror, but they always revolved around the past—for the first time, Law is terrified of the future. Scared of his lack of verbal reassurance to you coming back to bite him, of his inability to express how much he cares about you having the potential to push you away, and of the unspoken secrets he keeps close to his chest driving him apart from you.

Ignorant to the overwhelming swirling of emotions coursing through his veins, you nuzzle into the crook of his neck and lazily press sleepy kisses along seam connecting his neck to his collarbone. “I love you, Law.” you whisper softly into his skin. He can feel the strings of your heart tug bittersweetly as the words leave your mouth, making his heart twinge with guilt as the contents of his nightmare flood his mind once more.

Each night before bed, you murmur those words to him with such devotion and care, and with full knowledge they wouldn’t be returned, and yet still, hope hangs on the tip of your tongue and remains unaddressed—you simply tuck the unpleasant lack of reciprocation away, press a kiss to his forehead and tangle your limbs with his.

Each night you give yourself to him whole, only to get chewed up and spit out.

It’s not sustainable, and he knows it.

So determined to not lose you, Law swallows the lump in his throat and whispers, “Me too—so much.” He isn’t quite able to get the words out just yet, but the starry look in your eyes as you push yourself up to meet his gaze with a bright smile tells him it’s more than enough for now.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x you #law x you #law x y/n #one piece fanfiction #one piece drabble #one piece scenario #one piece fanfic

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

angst like this last ep where the reader gets hurt and joel is freaking out because it seems serious and he thinks he’s losing you, but he ends up nursing you back to health <3

AN | Soft Joel! Protective Joel! It’s all here 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Injury [reader gets injured, mentions of infections]

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

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You knew that he was saying your name, but it sounded so different and off. You felt warm, but not in a good way. In a I shouldn't be sweating in the dead of winter type of way.

You swiped away the sweat on your brow as you clutched at your side. Pain. That's where the pain was. You felt his hands move yours out of the way and saw the frown on his face grow.

"What happened?" you heard that loud and clear. You shook your head, trying to push his hand away from the wound in your side. It was so sensitive that even the slightest bit of touch seemed to aggravate it. You closed your eyes and tried to curl up within yourself but he wasn't having it, "you're hurt!"

"'m fine," you don't know why you lied; you clearly weren't fine, that much was obvious to both Joel and yourself, "wanna sleep."

"You can't sleep yet - you can't-"

The rest of whatever he said was lost as you did manage to fall asleep or pass out or something. Whatever it was, it was better than the searing pain in your side and the discomfort throughout your limbs.

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There was a creaking in the room - or somewhere - repeating in the same way over and over again. It became like a familiar tune as you slept, mostly out of consciousness.

You tried opening your eyes multiple times but they just felt so heavy, heavy, heavy. So you opted for sleep, for whatever the lull was that you were currently deep in.

Every once in a while you felt something touch you. Your face, your hand, your side - although it didn't feel quite as bad anymore. But, still, you eventually quite ready to get up. Just a little bit longer…

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"It's been days," Joel slammed his fist against the table before immediately regretting the sting in his hand, "how much longer am I supposed to wait?"

"She had a pretty nasty infection," Maria put her hand on top of his, attempting to give him a reassuring squeeze. It did nothing for him; his heart was still in his stomach, “it’s going to take her a while to recover. But the antibiotics and rest are working.”

He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair and tipped his head towards the ceiling. She was right, god he knew she was right, but he wouldn’t feel better until you were fully conscious and fully healed.

“I feel so…helpless,” he scrubbed a hand over his tired face, “what am I supposed to do?”

“Get some sleep yourself,” she gave him the ghost of a smile but he couldn’t find it in his heart to return it, “take care of yourself. And just be there for her. She knows you’re there and that’s what matters. Joel, she made it back to you.”

“She made it back here.”

“No, she dragged herself home to you,” Ellie cut in and gave him a firm look, “she could have died, most people would have given up, most people would be dead. Not her, so consider yourself lucky. Now you have to be there for her.”

“Ellie-”

“I never left you,” she reminded him, her eyes darted to where his scar was hidden beneath his shirt, “and you never left me. And now we don’t leave her. She’ll be okay.”

“I know,” and he did. If anyone could make it through this, it would be you. You were strong, smart, skilled, and so damn stubborn. It was one of his favorite things about you. And yet…still. It hard to just be there while you were suffering, “I know.”

“Eat,” Maria insisted softly, “rest. You have to take care of yourself too.”

Ellie gently touched his shoulder before hugging him tightly from behind, “it’ll be okay, Joel. I promise.”

And somehow that was all he needed to hear because he felt the slightest bit better.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A steady sound reached your ears, soft but consistent. You couldn’t quite place it but it was somehow extremely reassuring. You moved slightly, trying to readjust yourself but let out a sharp hiss of pain. Okay, that was not going to happen right now.

Your arm left like it weighed a thousand pounds, but you managed to lift your hand and touched the area that hurt. The tips of your fingers danced over some sort of cloth…a bandage? It spread along your abdomen and while it hurt, the pain was definitely less than what you had remembered. Well, that was a good sign at the least.

A groan escaped your lips as you tried to pry open your eyes, finding them heavy and stiff with sleep. They felt like sandpaper but eventually you managed to open them and tried to blink away all the bleariness.

You looked around, so stiff and sore, but recognized the room you were in. His bedroom. A familiar place - that was good. You didn’t really remember much after you stumbled your way back into Jackson. Slowly and hesitantly shifting, you managed to make it on your side and readjusted yourself.

The source of the sound soon became apparent. Joel Miller. He was sitting, sleeping rather, in a stiff and uncomfortable looking chair at your bedside, his head slumped to the side. That was going to be painful later.

“Joel,” your voice was scratchy and your throat felt dryer than the desert. You reached out a weak, shaky hand and set it on his thigh. You attempted to give him a gentle shake in order to get him to wake up. Maybe it was selfish and you should have let him sleep but you also really, really just wanted to see him. Plus, you wanted to prevent a crick in his neck while you were at it. Two birds, one stone. He didn’t move at first…the poor thing must have been exhausted. You doubted he’d been sleeping since you were back, “Joel.”

But still, he didn’t stir and you decided not to push him. You felt pretty weak as well so you just closed your eyes and decided to get some more rest too. It wasn’t like you were at liberty to be going much right now. What you did do, however, was take his hand and lace your fingers through his, refusing to be completely separated from him.

You needed him just as much as he needed you.

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Joel knew he was going to have a sore neck even before he opened his eyes. He would have been better off sleeping on the floor but he'd fallen asleep on the chair. Typical.

But wait - something was different. His eyes snapped open and he looked down at his hand and saw that it was tangled up with yours. He didn't remember holding your hand…he knew he hadn't been. That meant -

"Baby," you were sleeping again, mouth open as you snorted softly. But you were facing him, much closer, and you'd reached for him. There was a prickling at the back of his eyes and a breath of relief escaped his lips. He wanted to wake you up but he didn't have it in his heart to. You needed rest and he was going to let you have it, "such a stubborn thing, aren't you?"

You didn't respond but he was almost positive that he felt you squeeze his hand.

The next time you woke up you felt warm, but this time it was a pleasant sensation. You cracked an eye open and saw light streaming in through the window, the soft tittering of birds outside.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You tried to sit up, slowly, but it still wasn't an easy feat. You groaned the entire time but eventually you made it.

Reaching up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pushed some of your messy hair out of your face. The blanket you were in was soft, and you remembered that you were in Joel's room. You were in his bed!

You heard footsteps coming from down the hall and grew nervous for whatever reason when the door opened. Joel stepped into the room and his eyes immediately went to your figure, as they had become accustomed to.

Only this time, you weren't sleeping. You were awake and looking at him with bleary eyes and a soft smile.

"Hi," your voice sounded so small and unsure that it made him want to cry. He came to your side, and despite the fact that he wanted to pull you into a tight hug, he dropped to his knees at your side and reached for your hand.

"Hi," his voice was thick with emotion, shaky and unsure as his eyes grew glossy, "you're awake."

"I'm awake," you confirmed almost as if you wanted to make sure he knew he wasn't dreaming, "you've been here. I-I woke up earlier, the other day, I don't know what day or time it honestly, and you were sitting there. In that chair."

“I was,” he nodded, a soft smile gracing his features, “I thought you’d woken up.”

“I tried to wake you up,” you leaned back against the headboard, “did you end up with a crick in your neck?”

“Of course,” he rubbed at his neck absentmindedly, “I, ugh…I’m glad you’re alright. I don’t know what…”

“Yeah,” you didn’t need him to say it - you knew exactly what he was trying to say, “thank you.”

“For what?” there was a small hint of blush that crept into his cheeks.

“For taking care of me,” you reached for his hand and happily took it into yours, “I don’t remember much, but I do remember you being there. So, don’t be bashful, I know it was you.”

“It wasn’t all me,” but he also hadn’t left your side in days, barely more than an hour or so at a time, and even those times were few and far in between, “Maria helped a lot, and Ellie.”

“I know,” after a moment of hesitation, you reached up and stroked his cheek, and the man practically preened into your touch, “but still. You’re a stubborn man. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, which caused your entire face to flush with warmth.

“What happened?” your voice almost dropped to a whisper as though you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know, “to me? I-I don’t remember a lot.”

And then he laughed; that sweet, deep sound that you loved so much. It wasn’t that he was laughing at you or all that you had just been through, it was just…the situation. The fact that you’d been so unwell, almost on death’s doorstep, and here you were, sweet as ever, “oh sweetheart…you went through a lot.”

“I remember getting back but that’s about it,” you admitted sheepishly, “I do remember pain…how long has it been?”

“You came back about a week ago,” your mouth opened in surprise - there was no way. It couldn’t have been more than two or three days. He nodded, answering your silent question, “yeah, it was bad.”

“I-I got back and…I was hurt.”

“You came back, barely on your feet,” his gaze shifted to the clean bandage still spreading across your abdomen, “you looked…terrible.”

“What a lovely thing to hear,” you teased, knowing that he was joking.

“I just meant…the wounds. Not a-anything else, but you look…”

“Like shit,” you cut him off. You felt grimy and sweaty and gross; you were positive you were stinking and your hair was a disaster. You doubted you looked any better than you felt, “I’m sure. You don’t have to lie to me, Joel.”

“You’re beautiful,” it was the first time he had said it out loud, but it was something that had always been on his mind, “but yeah…right now you do look like you could use a bath.”

“I love an honest man,” you grinned, “you saved me.”

“I-I didn’t…no,” bashful, shy, and adorable. Although he’d never admit he was adorable.

“You did,” you insisted, pointing at your covered wound, “I imagine whatever this was, it wasn’t good.”

“No,” his brow furrowed and he shook his head lightly, “it wasn’t. There was a deep wound, and had gotten infected. The infection was starting to spread and…yeah. You came back just in time. I don’t know how you made it back but…fuck, I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” shy smiles were exchanged, “I vaguely remember getting hurt and knowing I had to get back. And I just came back, I knew I had to get back. I wanted to get home to you.”

“Yeah?” his voice shook but you nodded, trying to be strong, “I shouldn’t have let you go. Especially not alone. I should have been there, I could have…done something.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” you put a finger to his lips to cut him off before he could continue to ramble, “thinking of all the could haves and would haves only works to drive us crazy. It doesn’t matter what happened, not anymore. What matters is that I’m here now.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” he couldn’t help the small smile that turned up the corners of his mouth at your sharpness, “I’m here and I’m okay. We’re okay. Wait…I’m okay, right? I guess I should have asked that first and not just assumed.”

“You’re going to be okay,” he promised, thanking every lucky star and divine being or whatever existed in the universe, “most of the wounds on your arms and face are superficial; I think you probably got them when you were coming back through the woods. The main one was…rough. Do you remember what happened at all?”

“My weakness,” you joked softly, “small knives.”

“That was no small knife,” he shook his head as you shrugged.

“No,” you reluctantly agreed, “it wasn’t. But me telling you what it was isn’t going to change anything so…no need to worry.”

“I’m going to worry anyway.”

“You shouldn’t worry.”

“I’m going to worry about the people I love.”

“Oh,” oh. Joel had, once again, spoken before he truly thought about what he was going to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean it….he just hadn’t meant to tell you like this. He wasn’t sure exactly what his plan had been, but that was neither here nor there at this point, “oh?”

“Listen, I didn’t mean to make this-”

“I love you, Joel,” you met his eye, refusing to look away so he knew that you had meant what you said, “really.”

“Oh,” this time it was his turn to be surprised. You nodded; his relief was visibly when you saw how his shoulders relaxed, “I didn’t exactly plan this.”

“Me neither,” you gestured to yourself, “any of this.”

“It’s not going to hurt for a while,” he swallowed thickly as you exhaled slowly. You figured as much; if you’d been out for almost a week you knew that it wasn’t going to go immediately go away, “I…I would like it if you stayed here. So I could help you.”

“You mean keep an eye on me so I don’t go and cause more trouble?” you teased, “I’d like that, Joel. As long as you and Ellie are okay with it. But I can take the couch so you can have your bed-”

“Absolutely not,” as if. He’d rather cut off his own leg than to let you sleep on the damned couch, “you’ll stay here, in this bed.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard that in this sort of situation,” you snorted in amusement, “but thank you, Joel. Really.”

“It’s nothing,” it was everything, “I’ll change the sheets and you can have a shower - bath maybe, that might be better. Or maybe shower?”

“I can try a shower and if it doesn’t work, we’ll figure it out,” you felt so warm and fuzzy at the idea of him taking care of you, “maybe I’ll make you give me a sponge bath!”

“I would do it.” Of course he would. He’d do anything for you.

“I know,” you leaned over, slowly and gingerly, and pressed the most delicate of kisses to his cheek, “I know.”

“I’m going to assume you’re hungry?” you perked up at the sound of food. When was the last time you had a meal? You couldn’t remember…and your stomach grumbled loudly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes, please,” you grinned, “what’s on the menu?”

“Fresh baked bread and soup,” your mouth almost watered in excitement, “the kid’s been on a cooking phase, so whether or not it’s good will have to be seen.”

“I’m so hungry, I could honestly eat anything,” you really could, “but thank you. Seriously…I hope that you know how much very much I…appreciate you. How very much I…I love you.”

“It’s not work, it’s not a bother,” he insisted, “not when it’s you. I…”

“You don’t have to say it,” you knew that it wasn’t always for him to be open with feelings and words. But he always showed his love in so many other ways, “if you don’t want to or…yeah.”

“I love you,” he’d stood up but he leaned down and kissed the crown of your head, not caring in the slightest about any mess, “I’m not perfect, far from it, but I’m working on it.”

“You think I’m perfect?” he really liked your laugh, “far from it. I’m working on it too. We can work on it together.”

“Yes,” and you really liked his smile, “together.”

“Together.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us

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blainesebastian · 4 months

Text

something real

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

“You’re losing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the gigolo’s name?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So your request said a wedding?”

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

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

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

“Have you…done weddings before?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet—

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

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

“Okay,” Austin smiles, “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you can’t help but grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he’s already a decent actor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because why the hell not?

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

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

“Challenge accepted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not sure you want to know.

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

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

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

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

“What do you want to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because we match.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t move.”

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

“A lot of beige.”

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

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

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

“It’s just not what I pictured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get your shoes. We’re already late.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you do.

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe this is all in your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then it has to come from you first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost wish that was the case, instead.

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

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

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

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

It's all a lie.

A lie that you paid for.

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

“Todd.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a couple her and Todd make.

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

Just feels like a big mistake.

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

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

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

What if all of this is one weird dream?

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

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

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

“In that order? That’s so boring.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You stayed.”

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

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

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

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

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

You’re just glad you didn’t vomit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He waits.

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

Then it has to come from you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You finally figure out what you want—

and you want this. You want him.

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

Y/N: I think I messed up.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: I can’t, he’s still here

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

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

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

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

Jill: so what is the point?

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

“Y/N?” Austin asks, “You alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—

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

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

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

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

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

“No—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can’t possibly leave like this, right?

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

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

You don’t go after him.

Time goes on.

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

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

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

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

“I got your twenty texts, you alright?”

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

“I screwed up.”

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

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

“Damn, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe not missing, exactly, but lying dormant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not again.

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

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

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

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

It’s his turn.

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

He doesn’t come after you.

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

“No,” You crinkle your nose.

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

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

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

And blink because—

“Austin.”

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

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

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

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

Maybe not heal, scar at the very least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you blink, “What?”

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

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

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

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

When you don’t—

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

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

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

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

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

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