#[ bUT EY THANKS FOR THE GREETER! ]
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Strange Job Swap
“Oh it's beautiful!” exclaimed the customer waiting in line. I handed her a nicely decorated cake for her son's birthday.
“It's no big deal. Just doing my job.” I acted like it was no big deal, but really I was gladly accepting the praise!
“This is perfect though. Have you considered being an artist?” she replied with a slightly more serious look.
“Yes I have actually…but the job market is tough.”
“Aww you'll get there eventually! Don't give up! Well anyway, you made my day so for that, thank you!”
“You're welcome.” I was a bit sad though, because she was right; I SHOULD be an artist. I recently earned my bachelor's degree, but yet I was still stuck in this dumb hick town, working as a grocery store cake decorator. I may have been good at what I do but I wouldn't want to do it forever!
At least my co-workers are pretty decent, especially my fellow bakery buddies, Chase, Amber, and Domingo. Amber was cool and didn't take anyone’s shit, which is why I loved seeing her because I didn't have much confidence when dealing with unruly customers. Domingo was very sweet, and even though he didn't speak very good English, he's hella good at his job. And Chase, well…he's hot! His bleach blond hair somehow always caught the light at a perfect angle. I don't know how I even kept my focus when he's working next to me.
At the end of my shift, I clocked out, and decided to buy a couple groceries like I normally did. I scanned everything at the self-checkout, put the receipt into one of my bags, and started walking towards the exit. The store had 2 exits on either side of the front, but I only took one because the other had a certain asshole at it - Richard.
The greeter position was removed a long time ago, but they bring it back for employees that have been injured or are too old, so that they can keep their jobs. Now this old guy named Richard had surgery a long time ago and became the greeter while he recovered. But yet he never went back to his old position.
He always stays at one specific entrance, and the reason I hated him so much was because he's racist. Part of his job has him checking customers’ receipts to make sure they didn't steal anything, which seems pretty unnecessary when you have those anti-theft machines at the exit. But I've seen him. The only people he checks the receipts for are minorities. It's not a subtle thing either; he’s super friendly, greeting and saying goodbye to all the white people passing but when it comes to someone who's not, his demeanor suddenly changes.
My luck must've run out today, because I found the sliding glass doors at my usual exit were broken and currently being fixed. The area was blocked off by a barricade, and I knew there was only one other way to leave. I headed over to the other exit, and there Richard was, waving goodbye to a white mother and her toddler. He was wearing his typical gray uniform shirt that was clearly too small, because you could see his gut and nipples trying to poke through. Gross.
I moved through the aisle, trying not to draw attention to myself, but it was all for nothing because right on cue, Richard walked up to me and gave a great big (and so obviously fake) smile.
“Hello sir, can I see your receipt please?”
“Richard, it's me, Marco. I work in the bakery. You've seen me a million times before.” His smile suddenly faded, and his eyes narrowed, as if every ounce of happiness in his body just vanished.
“That's no excuse. How do I know you aren't stealing?”
“Because I want to keep my job?”
“Don't backtalk to me. You seem awfully suspicious today.” He then reached for his walkie talkie and started to page a manager. I really was able to walk out with no repercussions because I truly didn't steal anything, but there's a chance he would page the Asset Protection lady, who was almost as awful.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Nobody answered him. Thank god.
“Am I free to go now?” I said happily. The anger returned to his face.
“Just don't let me catch you stealing again. Or there'll be consequences!”
“Yeah…suuuure.” I walked out the door, into my car, and back home. I can't believe some people honestly. I was so sick of this town! I needed to move away real soon.
When I got home my dog, Kenny, was excited to greet me as usual so I let him outside to do his business while I got into my running clothes, prepping for a run. As I let Kenny back in, I went to check the mail and found a weird envelope in between the bills and spam. I opened it up and it was a letter addressed “to whom it may concern”. I threw it away without a second thought but Kenny suddenly ran up to the trash can, took it out, and placed it back in front of me.
“You really want me to read this, don't you boy?” I said cheerily as I patted him on the head.
“To whom it may concern,
Are you struggling with your current job? Unhappy with the life you have? Well I have just the cure for that! We are now selling happiness inducing coins for only $1 with free shipping! One flip of this coin will guarantee you will soon get a job you love! Get it fast before it all runs out! Just follow the link on the back of this letter if you are interested.” - VV
I wondered who or what VV was supposed to be, and $1 with free shipping sounds too good to be true, so this seemed like a scam. I also wasn't a superstitious person, but for some reason my gut was telling me that this was a good idea. Kenny seemed to think so too as he was wagging his tail under the table and I read. I followed the link listed on the back of the page, typing in each random letter and number combination into my phone and ordered the lucky coin. I went to bed that night feeling a little more hopeful.
The next day at work was just like the previous day, only the door was fixed so I didn't have to walk out the exit Richard was standing at. We did make eye contact though, and he shot me a dirty look. I got home to find that the package had already arrived, which was awfully quick. I cut open the box and inside was a golden coin with a picture of a brain on it. The other side had a picture of a person with their arms spread wide. It was a really weird design. I read the instructions.
How to use:
Flip the coin
No matter what side it lands on, you'll be guaranteed happiness in your new job!
It sounded so lame, but I followed the instructions anyway. I flipped the coin the air, and slapped it on the back of my other hand. Tails. Nothing happened. I guess it was just $1 so it wasn't a huge waste of my time. It's pretty cool looking so maybe I could display it on my dresser or something.
I felt especially tired the rest of the night, but I was fine because I had a day off tomorrow. I was gonna go to the park with Kenny, as well as do a few errands. I was just glad I had time away from my job.
The next morning my alarm went off for some reason. I must've accidently set it by mistake. The weirder thing was Kenny wasn't there. Normally at the sound of my alarm, he comes running from wherever he was sleeping, and jumps on the bed to get me up. But there was nothing. When I started to truly wake up and become more alert, I realized that my alarm was set to the default or something. Instead of my usual calming piano, it was an annoying ringing. I opened my eyes to see what was happening. My vision was blurry, but I could tell I wasn't in my own room.
What happened? Did someone kidnap me? The alarm clock wasn't even on a phone, but rather it was an actual alarm clock. I had no idea what was going on, but I reached over to turn it off so I could think. I'm certain I must've been kidnapped somehow but why? And why would they set an alarm clock? I couldn't see but felt around the nightstand for a clue and found a pair of glasses. When I tried them on, just like that, my vision returned to normal. I had perfect vision before! Why did I suddenly need glasses? I reached up to scratch my head and found my hairline was incredibly receded. I was balding! I looked down with my now clear vision to find an even worse fact. I was chubby!
I sat up and stared at the foreign gut and two large man tits, as well as numerous graying chest hairs. I ran my hands through the hair, pinching them to make sure they were real. I pinched the tits as well, and felt sensations I've never felt before as they wobbled when I let go. I ran my hands through my face and felt a mustache and double chin, and began feeling nauseous at the thought of what I actually looked like. I didn't see a mirror in the room so I walked out the door trying to find a bathroom. The fat jiggled all around as I ran.
I got to the bathroom and nearly puked on the spot when I saw who I was. Richard. Oh god no. Of all people, I had to look like this racist bastard? I stared at myself and grazed my hands along my face. Suddenly I felt angry and started pinching it instead, as if I was doing the same thing to the real Richard, but denial didn't help; that was my face and it hurt. I touched his mustache and pinched it, as if it would come off.
Just then I heard the doorbell ring. I didn't want to interact with anybody looking like this but until I figured out how to fix it, I knew I had to pretend to be Richard. I answered the door to find the mailman.
“Howdy Rich! Woah uh.” He stared at my chest. I forgot I was still shirtless. Having this much fat hanging from my body was almost like answering the door naked. “I see you've lost some weight!” he said, obviously lying.
“Oh uh, thanks.” I replied, trying to imitate Richard’s voice, which was pretty easy considering I've mocked him before.
“Well anyway, not much today; just a letter.” He handed me a letter with a purple stamp on it.
“Well uh see you tomorrow!” The mailman went on his way and I closed the door. I opened the letter and found a note similar to the lucky coin advertisement.
To whom it may concern,
Good morning! I trust that your lucky coin worked well? Welcome to your new life! As promised, you now have a job that you love. Unhappy with the results? Just flip the coin once again, and make sure it lands on what it landed on before! If not, however, your fate is sealed. Best Wishes! - VV, Venefica Viola
Shit. They're not lying though. Richard did love his job. And since I was in his body, I now had that job! But who is this Venefica Viola? It sounded like Latin somehow. I walked back to the bedroom to find Richard’s phone. Luckily he didn't have any lock screen pin so I could easily get in. I searched for a translator, dodging the random pop up ads that were everywhere on his phone and looked up Venefica Viola.
Violet Witch. So magic is involved somehow. I needed to get my coin back so I could undo this! It must still be at my own house. Shit! I just realized why the alarm clock went off. Richard worked today! He had perfect attendance and never uses his PTO, so not going in was gonna look suspicious. I glanced at the clock and realized I only had 20 minutes.
Even though I'd love to see Richard be humiliated by going to work in his underwear, I decided that it wasn't worth attracting attention so I looked through his clothes to put on a work uniform. I found a pair of boxers and accidently flashed myself when I completely forgot I didn't have my own dick either. It was all wrinkly, but honestly a lot bigger than I thought. No. I was not about to get horny over Richard's dick! I found what he normally wore to work and put the rest on. I found tucking the shirt was more difficult than usual, as I had to pull it over my belly.
I guess I could make this work…for now. I hated to admit it, but Richard wasn't all that bad looking. It was his personality and habits that made him so repulsive, but now that I was in control of him, he didn't look all that bad. Maybe I could even turn things around for now and do something nice for the people I know he hates. I grabbed the car keys on the nearby table, and drove to work.
I walked in the store, put Richard's nametag on, and clocked in. I nearly started walking to the bakery area but stopped myself. I guess I'm really going to have to be a greeter for a day. This feels humiliating. I made my way to the front entrance and just stood there, waiting for customers to enter or exit.
Soon enough customers began arriving and I tried my best to act like Richard, though one customer asked if I was all right because I guess I overdid it. I didn't ask any customers to show their receipts though, because I might as well take advantage of being a greeter. I noticed Domingo at the checkout and when he bagged up his groceries, he approached me first instead of the door. He hastily grabbed his receipt and started showing it to me. I wasn't about to let this happen.
“No no it's ok. You don't have to show me the receipt anymore.”
“No?” He looked shocked.
“Checking receipts is stupid anyway. I don't need to do it anymore.”
“Really? I can go?”
“Yep! Have a good day.” It was unnerving seeing him so scared at the sight of me, but he smiled like normally did as he put the receipt back in the bag and walked out.
As I moved towards the break room to take my break, I noticed someone who looked awfully familiar walk through the door. It was…me! I mean Richard. It must've been; if I was in his body, he must've been in mine. It became more obvious by the way he was walking, taking big steps as if he was used to having his gut swinging around…like mine was now. God I hated this. I had to talk to him to sort things out. He smirked as I approached.
“Hey!”
“Oh it's you. I mean me. I mean,” he paused for a second and rounded his mouth into an even bigger smile, which looked uncanny with my face. “The old me.”
“What do you mean ‘the old you’”?
“Well seeing as I'm much younger now, while you're much older, I think the term is appropriate.”
“Well yeah, but not for long. I'm going to switch us back.”
“Oh no you're not! I may have preferred being white, but I’m enjoying youth again! Oh, and don't worry. I saw that coin thing and that letter this morning, and I made sure it would never see the light of day again. You got that…Richard?”
He called me that in the same mocking tone that I always use to call him. I can't believe this!
“Y-you can't do this! I had a future!”
“That's my future now old man. You know maybe I could be a model with these looks. Maybe make one of those, what do you kids call it? OnlyFans?”
God no, I'm an artist, not a pornstar. He can't do this!
“The greeter is a real fun job, Richard. Enjoy it. You're hired!”
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CONGRATS on 2.5k!! You deserve every follow! ❤️ For the co-writer (along with @absurdthirst) of the Whiskey fic that made brain go BRRRRR and got me into reading/writing our fave corndog, how about our Agent with the prompts: "Should we make it official?" and/or "Put me down!" Have fun!
Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels.
2,300 words.
"Put me down!"/"Should we make it official?"
(Sequel to: "Wait! Please don't go!"/"There is no 'us'." )
Co-written with @absurdthirst
When Jack hits the door, heads turn. The sharp, confident gait of a man on a mission who will not be stopped just shimmers in the air around him. Eyes sharp and narrowed, they scan the floor, looking for someone. For you.
“Can I help you, sir?” It’s the weekend, so a greeter is stationed at the door of the upscale retail store, to help direct customers through the maze of shelves and displays. It is the middle of the city so there are plenty of different kinds who come in every day, but this is definitely the first cowboy that’s ever set foot inside the Lexington Avenue Sephora.
Jack says your name and throws the woman a charming grin. “She’s helped me before so I’m hoping to see her again.” He lies, knowing that you won’t talk to him otherwise.
"Sure! Of course." The new girl smiles warmly, blushing a little as she's easily taken in by the charm that drips off of Jack like dew drops. "She's in fragrances today. All the way at the back of the store."
“Thank you kindly.” He tips his hat like a gentleman and starts for the back of the store. The past two weeks have been miserable. He’s drank, he’s raged, he’s blamed you for expecting too much. Then, when you rejected the bouquet of flowers he had sent to your parent’s house after misusing Statesman resources to find where you were, he had come to a hard truth. He had done you wrong. He hadn’t spoken from heart, not made himself uncomfortable for the sake of growth. Holding onto the fear of losing you if he loved you had caused him to lose you. And no surprise, he had loved you, because he is miserable without your voice in his ear, your fragrance on his sheets and your love in his heart. Now, he’s here to get you back.
You're there in the last aisle, helping a young lady find a specific gift she came looking for, in the uniform dress that you hate but tolerate for the sake of your new job. It doesn't pay well enough and it doesn't distract you enough to dull the constant aching hurt inside you after having walked out of Jack's place, but that's why you had started it the second after arriving back at your parents' place. To try to forget him. It isn't working. Not at all.
"I'll be right wit—" The figure looming a few feet away was only a shadow. It's the second you look up that your mouth runs dry and you feel sick to your stomach all over again. "I'm not sure I can help you, sir," you manage, hating the way your heart wings with so much hope. Hope that he wouldn't be here unless he had come for a good goddamn reason. But you have to stay strong. "You might want to try elsewhere."
“But sugar—” Jack drawls, grinning in pure relief at seeing your pretty face again somewhere else than in his dreams or the photos that haunt his walls. “You’re the only one who can help me.”
“Then you’ll have to wait.” Jack’s appearance has thrown you off completely, but you manage to finish up with your customer and take a deep breath — even hide your shaking hands behind your back — before you look at him again. “You came to my work?” Your voice is incredulous. Quiet. “It had better because you’re out of cologne.”
“You blocked my number and your daddy— well, I didn’t think you’d want there to be a brawl on your parent’s front lawn.” He huffs, annoyed that the old man had waved a hammer at him. He knows he could disarm him, but that would make you even madder at him.
“Ginger helped you find me?” You guess with disappointment. But Ginger is his friend. You can’t blame her for being on his side. “I left Jack. And I did it on purpose. Hell, we didn’t even have enough of a relationship to call it a breakup.”
“We had a relationship.” Jack snorts. “We have one still, this ain’t over, sugar.” He promises, “Not by a long shot.”
"We can't do this here." If he wants to have it out all over again, the least he can do is pay you the courtesy of not getting you in trouble at work. This is definitely going to get you in trouble. "I'm not going to lose my job because you can't take no for an answer."
“I love you, sugar.” Jack breaths out, finally saying the words he’s needed to for a long time. The words you deserve.
If there had been anything in your hands, you would have dropped it immediately. As it is, you feel like crumbling – falling down on the spot or running to him – something utterly undignified that would definitely get you written up at minimum. Your eyes mist and your shaking hands tangle around each other, but you can't break down on the sales floor. And beyond that? As much as you want to believe him, to let the anger and the heartache drip away so you can just go home to him where you want to be? It seems completely unbelievable to you that you walking out his door was somehow the magic tonic he needed to learn those damn words.
"My manager is watching," you murmur to him, glancing past him to the petite ice queen several yard away who has zeroed in on an employee not forcing product on every single person in the store. "We can't—it's not—you have to go, Jack."
“I’m not leaving.” He frowns, tossing the overly made-up manager a single look before focusing on you. “Did you not hear what I said?” He asks. “I love you, sugar. I need you.”
"I heard you." The water pressing at the back of your eyes is proof of that, and the way your voice cracks, but you can feel your manager's eyes drilling into your face and that gaze is angry. "I heard you. And we will talk about this, but I can't afford to lose this job and that might happen if you don't go."
“You don’t need this job.” Jack reminds you. You hadn’t had it when you left, so it’s not like you’ve been here for years.
"I have bills to pay," you remind him, rolling that tick in your jaw backward a little and swallowing the bitter pill that you decided to take all on your own. The undefined thing you had going with Jack had come with a big allowance, but it wasn't a sugar situation. That would have at least been a title. "Therefore, I need to keep my job. And the girl who just got hired can get sent out the door just as easily."
“You don’t need to worry about that.” He shakes his head and reaches for your hand. “Come on, sugar.”
“Why, Jack?” You have to keep your voice down as you snatch your hand back, but it’s still a hiss. “So I can be your stay-at-home friend-with-benefits again?”
Jack has many, many faults and one of them is impatience. His jaw clenches and he knows that he needs to get you alone to talk to you, others starting to warily gaze your way. Instead of answering you, Jack drops his shoulder and scoops you up like it’s nothing.
“Oh my fucking god, Jack!” The screech it earns from you is nearly instant, knowing that you have absolutely just lost your job over his stunt and not really knowing what in the hell he plans to do now. “Put me down! Right now!” He’s stronger than you and you don’t stand a chance of wriggling free in the dress you’re wearing. It will be up over your head if you even try.
“Nope.” His gait is just as determined as he passes by your manager, her jaw on the floor. “She quits.” He tells her and continues on to the door and outside.
“JACK!” Your shit is still in your locker and that’s going to be a black mark on your resume, but right now all you can do is beat your fists on his back and shoulder in protest. “What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”
By his Bronco, Jack finally relents, bending down and setting you on your feet. “Now, we can talk.”
Huffing and puffing like you’re about to summon a personal tornado, you don’t even hear him for all the blood pounding in your ears. “What the fuck was that?! Do you know how embarrassed I’m going to be when I have to go back in there and get my purse?”
“It’ll be the last time you go in there.” He predicts and he smirks at you. “And you’ll be flustered too badly to even think about what those crusted old biddies think.”
It’s a reasonable threat, considering how good he is at flustering you. The whole reason you’ve been so upset is because you do love Jack and you wanted this to work out. But standing out there on the street pressed between him and his Bronco? You feel like you’re about to be sold a familiar looking head of cattle after your own just happened to go missing.
“So what’s the play here?” You work very hard to keep your tone skeptical. “You tell me how much you need me so that I’ll come back to you and then nothing really changes? As usual?” He did say the words, but you’re so scared to believe them. To believe him. There’s a chance he doesn’t mean it and that terrifies you.
His eyes narrow, aware that he deserves that little barb but he shakes his head. “No. That’s not what’s going to happen, baby girl.” He huffs. “You are going to go get your purse and then I’m taking you home, where you belong. And I’m going to make you scream my name before you fall asleep on my chest as we plan.”
That all sounds…ridiculously good, actually. It would be a relief to go back to him. To not have to miss him anymore and feel like your heart has been split in two. But all you do is raise one eyebrow in a show of disbelief. “Plan what, exactly?”
“You’re marrying me sugar, today, tomorrow, or the next day.” He growls, smashing his lips against yours and moaning in relief when you melt against him. Pulling away to caress your cheek. “What do you say, baby girl? Should we make it official?”
“Do you…really mean it?” Months of telling him that you wanted to know where you stood with him — wanted commitment from him — only to be sidelined or waylaid or otherwise put off for just a little while longer, they all melt away in the face of the biggest offer of commitment he could possibly make.
“Gotta ring in my pocket.” He confesses, leaning in and brushing your nose with his. “Sugar, I’ve been such a damn fool.” He murmurs. “I thought I could avoid losing you if I didn’t admit I love you. And I just hurt you, something I never wanted to do.”
“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense cowboy.” It makes Jack Sense, which is not much at all, but still your arms twine around his waist right there on the sidewalk. “But I’m just gonna brush past how long it took you to show up at the party and embrace the fact you’re here at all. Because I didn’t want to leave. I miss the hell out of you.”
“I’m a damaged soul, sugar.” He admits softly. “But I want to be better, I want to give you everything.” He sighs and leans in to kiss you again. “Come home?”
“Everyone is damaged somehow, cowboy.” Melting measurably more with another press of his lips to yours, you lean into the solid wall of Jack’s body completely. “We just have to talk about things from now on, so we don’t get more damage along the way. Okay?”
“Whatever it takes, baby girl.” Jack promises, wrapping his arms around you and holding tight. “I’m never letting you go.”
You’ve cried so much these last few weeks, it’s almost startling to realize that the tears in your eyes now are happy ones. Ecstatic. Overjoyed at having your Jack back in your life, and for the right reasons. If you were separated by more than a few inches it would have been a lunge to kiss him again, but as it is you wrap up in him and hold on tight. “You really have that ring? Because I’m gonna flash it everywhere when I go back into that damn place to get my purse, and then you’re gonna take me home. Our home.”
“I sure do, baby girl.” He has to take one hand out from around you and it almost kills him, but he wants to prove how serious he is. Pulling a small black velvet box from his sports coat. “Tell me what you think. If you don’t like it, we can go pick out any ring you want.”
"How could I not like it?" It's from him and that's all that matters. But the second he pops the little velvet box open, the tears in your eyes spill over and your heart is in your throat. "Baby...it's...it's...I love it. I love you." It's beautiful, and it's real, and he means it.
Leaving was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but if it was the kick in the pants that you both needed to know that the love you have is real? Then it was worth a little ache.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer
My Masterlist!
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Jack Whiskey Daniels#Jack Daniels#Agent Whiskey#Jack Daniels x you#Jack Daniels x reader#Jack Daniels x female reader#Jack Daniels x f!reader#microfic#angst#break up#reconciliation
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OK BESTIE LISTEN
i heard “roses are red, watches are gold. get on your knees and do as you’re told.” I NEED IT IN A MATT FIC PLEASEEEEEE
okok so maybe matt really reallyyyy wants to spend money on a pretty girl. you sign up on a sugar baby website for that coin, and y’all start talkingggg. he flies you out and books a hotel 👀 there’s a red dress and like a gold and diamond watch on the bed and rose petals and wine, w that on a note. and he gives you a time and place to meet him for dinner and is giving you the eyes alllll night. and yk the resttttt
Sugar Daddy
Matt x Fem Reader
Warnings: Smut, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, fluffy ending
@lustfulslxt
DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!
“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you and spy from another table? I’m terrified you’re gonna get your head chopped off with an axe,” Jaycee says while lint rolling my dress.
“Girl I promise I’ll be fine. Most of the time these guys can’t even walk without a cane, let alone chase me down with an axe,” I laugh, checking myself in the mirror again. “Plus I’ll have my location on. One bad vibe and I promise I’ll let you know.”
I smile and hug my best friend, pulling away and spinning around to show her the back of the dress.
“How do I look? Think I’ll get a big payout tonight?” I say while raising an eyebrow in a jokingly seductive way.
“Honey I KNOW his wallet is gonna be screaming and crying at him after you’re done with him. Do you have to… you know…?” She does a ring shape with one hand and pokes her finger in and out.
“Fuck him?” I laugh, swatting her hands down. “It just depends. A lot of these guys just want a pretty girl to keep them company. Like some of them I literally just eat dinner with and that’s it. But if they want little something extra and I’m feeling up for it, why not?”
“What does he look like?” she questions.
I shrug before quickly trying to explain it the easiest way I can after I see the worried look on her face.
“So first of all, this sugar daddy app is referral only, so it’s definitely safe. He has to have been referred by another sugar baby, passed a background check, proven he can pay out, submitted a photo of himself to the owner of the app, all that jazz. But it’s kinda like a blind date.. on my end? Like he knows what I look like but not my name.. but I’ve never seen him… I know the first letter of his name… Anyway I don’t know why exactly it’s a thing, but it was created by former sugar babies and I think it’ll be cool to give it a shot!” I spew all this information at her as she stares at me just blinking.
“Oh…okayyy…” she trails off before adding “Please please be safe, Y/n. You know I’m just a phone call away!” She kisses my cheek and walks back to her room.
I pull out my phone and open my messages with M.
-Onyx hotel at 6pm. Reservation will be under the name Adam Smith. They’ll get you in no problem.
Adam Smith causes me to raise an eyebrow, but I order an Uber and sit around for for a while before looking in my full length mirror again, smoothing out my black dress and fluffing my hair. I spray a vanilla scented perfume onto the pulse points of my neck and grab my bag. I dig through it and make sure I still have my pepper spray and stun gun. I know I’ll be fine, the app is super well rated and trustworthy, but you never know what some of these dudes will try.
•••
The Uber pulls up to the door of a massive hotel. I’m no architect but it looks like the doorway is carved from marble. I step out of my Uber and thank my driver before making my way into the doors of the Onyx, a door greeter offering to show me to the desk.
“Hi, I have a room booked under the name Adam Smith.” I smile as the lady behind the desk types into her computer to pull up the file.
“Got it right here sweetie.” She reaches under the desk to get the room key and slides it across the counter to me. “All the way to the top floor, make a right and it’s the door at the end of the hall. Have fun with Mr. Smith,” she adds in at the end, and I swear I can see a smirk on her face.
I make my way to the elevator, now flustered, and press the button for the top floor, my heart beginning to beat a little harder as I realize I’ll be meeting M face to face in a few short moments. Before I can think too hard, the elevator doors slide open. I step out and make my way to the end of the hall, my heels clicking with each step and echoing off the walls. I pull out the room key and take a deep breath before sliding the card into the reader and watching it blink green.
“Don’t fuck this up, Y/n. You need this money.” I think to myself.
I push the door open and I’m met with the scent of champagne and sweet roses. It smells like luxury.
“Hello, M?” I ask, shutting and locking the door behind me.
I’m met with a still silence. I put my bag down by the door and survey the room. It’s massive, marble floors with intricate wallpaper donning the walls. There’s even an office area with a desk, notepads and various office supplies. I notice an open pen on the desk, but I’m honestly too scared to touch anything. It all looks fucking expensive. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see a message from M pop up on my lock screen.
-You make it in okay?
-Yes, where are you?
-Check the bed.
I make my way over to the queen size bed and gasp. I see a red satin dress laid out surrounded by rose petals. It’s gorgeous, way better than the dress I picked for myself tonight. There’s a note beside it, and when I pick it up I find a black velvet box that was strategically hidden underneath the paper. I unfold the note and read the smooth handwriting,
“Roses are red, watches are gold.
Get on your knees and do as you’re told.”
I immediately break out in a blush, smiling to myself just from seeing M’s words on the page. Guess I know what I’ll be getting myself into later. I read further down the note and I see something else scribbled out.
“I’ll be waiting, my lady in red.”
I pick up the black velvet box and open it, shocked once I’m met with a shining gold watch encrusted with diamonds around the face. I pick it up gently out of its cushioning and flip it over, an “M” carved into the gold underside of the watch. Fuck, that’s honestly hot. Marking me already? I slip it onto my wrist gently and fasten the clasp, the cold watch against my wrist giving me shivers but it fits perfectly.
I slip off my black dress and shimmy into the red one, smiling as it zips up and clings onto me like a glove. I feel like pure luxury right now, checking myself out in the mirror before I see my phone light up on the bed.
-Uber is outside. See you soon.
I swear this man is already driving me crazy. He ordered the nicest Uber I’ve ever been in and made sure I had a glass of champagne ready to be poured to sip on during the ride. We pull up to a restaurant I’ve never even heard of and my driver gets out to open my door for me. “Watch your step, sweetheart.”
I walk to the reservations counter and give them the same name I was told to give to the hotel, and I’m led to a table in the back of the restaurant. My heart is beating out of my chest at this point. This is the first blind date I’ve been on at all, let alone with a potential sugar daddy. What if he’s hideous or weird or creepy?
I’m pretty sure my eyes fell out and rolled onto the floor when I saw M. He’s a young, hot brunette with striking blue eyes that feel like they’re burning holes into my skin.
“Your waiter will be over shortly,” the hostess smiles and walks back the other way.
M stands up to pull my seat out for me, but not before grabbing my hand and placing a soft kiss onto the backside, making my heart skip a beat before I sit down and he pushes me closer to the table.
“Not what you were expecting, I’m guessing?” He questions, his eyes locked onto mine with a smug smile.
“No not at all. I mean, I’m not mad about it I just-” I take a shaky breath, trying to calm my nerves before speaking again. “Usually the men I meet are shriveled up and on their last leg. You seem so young to be doing this kind of thing.”
He laughs and nods. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“A lot? So you’ve been doing this for a while, then?” I question, grabbing the glass of water that was waiting on me and take a sip, my berry red lipstick leaving a mark on the rim.
“Not too long. Maybe six months?” He looks up in thought. “Yeah like six or seven.”
“What’s your real name, Mr. M?” I ask in a lower voice, playing up the mystery vibe.
“I’m Matthew… or just Matt. And yours, pretty lady?”
“Y/n. Pleasure to be getting to know you better, Matthew.”
•••
We drink and eat and talk for what feels like hours, getting to know the ins and outs of both of our experiences in the sugar daddy world. I learn that Matthew is an influencer who makes crazy money and doesn’t know what to spend it on. He explained to me that he’s always had a love for gift giving, and when the money started rolling in and he realized he could get any girl he wanted, it combined and spiraled into almost a fetish to spend money on beautiful women.
I surprisingly understand where he’s coming from and we talked about that for a good chunk of the night. I felt like I was kinda playing therapist in a way, helping him see the reasons for why he does these “taboo” things from a nonjudgmental perspective.
After we finish dinner and drinks he orders another Uber and walks me out, opening the door for me and placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me down to my seat. I scoot to the seat behind the driver and watch as Matt ducks down to take his seat and shuts the black car door. I click my seatbelt and look up to see him scooting closer to me and settling in the middle seat, flashing a smirk my way.
The ride back to the Onyx is filled with glasses of champagne and shared giggles while we listen to the Uber driver tell us the story of his life that we definitely didn’t ask for. Matt’s hand nonchalantly lands on my thigh at some point during a giggle fit and I swear I freeze, not out of fear but anticipation. His fingers trail to the inner part of my thigh while his thumb rests on top tracing back and forth, sending butterflies through my entire body. He just looks over at me and smiles before turning back to the driver and egging him on, asking stupid questions like, “So then what did you do once they threw your shit on the street??”
It’s all a blur, his hand wondering aimlessly up and down my thigh with no intention to venture under my dress just yet. His smooth skin catching and reflecting the lights of the city as we journey through traffic. I feel like I can’t really concentrate on the conversation and I barely speak. This man is gorgeous inside and out- it’s like I’ve known him for years. It’s weird and it’s making me so flustered, but thankfully we come to a stop outside the Onyx and I can release the breath I’ve been holding in.
Matt steps out and walks to the driver’s window, handing him an envelope and shaking his hand before stepping towards my door and holding his hand out for me. I grab onto it and I feel a weird feeling shoot across my body just from the simple feeling of his skin on mine. He doesn’t let go as we make our way though the doors and into the lobby. He shoots the lady at the front desk a wave and a smile before we turn the corner towards the elevators.
The ride to the top floor feels like it takes triple the amount time as it did when I did it alone. Matt moves to stand across from me with his back leaned against the wall, stealing glances occasionally. There’s a silence between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s filled with a tension so thick I can almost physically feel it. We exit as we reach our floor and he lets me lead the way.
“That dress fits you so perfectly, sweetheart,” he whispers as he trails behind me.
I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I chuckle and try to keep the blush from spreading across my cheeks. We reach the door to the room and I stop to dig through my purse for the key, but before I finish Matt reaches around me, his chest touching my back, and swipes his own key. His veiny hand turns the handle and pushes it open before we step inside. I sit my bag down on the desk and reach down to take off my heels before I’m interrupted by his deep voice.
“Let me take them off. Sit on the bed.”
“Oh, yes sir,” I say in a teasing voice, raising my eyebrows and walking over to the bed before settling on the edge.
He moves to stand in front of me and grabs my right ankle gently, running his hand up to my knee before placing my heel onto his belt. I watch as his fingers delicately trace the strap around my ankle and find the clasp, undoing it before slipping my heel off and tossing it to the side. He repeats the same actions on my left leg, but once this heel is removed he drops to his knees and props my leg onto his shoulder causing me to fall onto my back and gasp.
He reaches down to grab my other leg and props it onto his other shoulder. His eyes snap up to meet mine, a look of lust written all over his face. I can feel myself starting to throb, a puddle forming between my thighs as he tilts his head towards my inner thigh and brushes his stubble along the tender skin.
I usually don’t get this into the sex with the other men I meet. They’re almost all over the age of 50 with some kind of ailment and it’s just not my vibe. I need the money so I do it, and I won’t lie, I’ve ended up being shocked and enjoying it a couple of times. But Matt has barely even touched me and my body is craving him desperately.
He spreads my legs as his lips cover my thighs in wet kisses, trailing achingly close to my core as he pushes my dress up around my hips.
He looks down at my panties as if he’s an artist admiring his work, running his thumb along the fabric and feeling the arousal that had made itself visible. He meets my gaze and increases his pressure, tilting his head in awe as if he’s poking an animal in a cage. Soft whimpers start involuntarily leaving my lips, my hips rocking against him.
“Fuck, look at you already squirming for me.” He licks his lips and leans forward, flattening his tongue across the fabric causing me to moan and grip the sheets from the pressure and warmth.
He watches as I react and blinks slowly before licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, biting at the hem and letting go roughly. The elastic stings my skin but he quickly places kisses along my skin to soothe it.
“F-fuck, Matthew.” I can’t help but roll my eyes back, going insane from all the teasing.
He uses his index finger to pull my panties to the side, letting out a deep groan when his eyes meet my dripping pussy. He wastes no time before burying his head between my legs, his tongue dancing up and down my core.
“Tastes so fucking good,” he almost whines as he comes up for a breath.
He continues lapping me up and I’m a mess underneath him, cursing, arching my back off the bed, gripping at the sheets, pulling his hair. Anything to release the tension building up in my body.
He pulls back, bringing his hand down and teasing my entrance with his middle finger before easing it in. I moan out as he curls up into my g spot, which prompts him to repeat the motion repeatedly. He brings his head back down to suck on my clit, making unbreaking eye contact.
A knot is twisting in my stomach at the sight of his blue eyes staring into mine, him working relentlessly to bring me to my peak. My legs begin to tighten around his head but he doesn’t fight it. He picks his pace up and begins humming deliciously into my pussy.
“Let me see that pretty face while you’re cumming on mine.” he says breathlessly dipping back down to flick his tongue across my clit.
I prop myself up onto my elbows and stare down at him, and his eyes look like they’re almost begging for me to release.
“M-Matt I’m gonna… fuck I’m gonna cum,” I whine before feeling the tension in my stomach snap and my orgasm flush through my body. I can see the smile in his eyes as he watches me come undone, making a mess of myself while crying out his name and clenching around his finger.
“Was that good, princess?” He asks, standing up and undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand while pushing his hair out of his face with the other.
“Best one I’ve had in a while,” I pant, trying to get my breathing back to normal.
He simply smiles and slips his button up off, tossing it beside the bed. He grabs both of my hands and pulls me into a sitting position then reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Let’s see how good those pretty little lips look around me, hm?”
I blush and reach for his belt, making eye contact as I undo it slowly and unbutton his pants. I see his jaw clenching as I take down the zipper and begin to tug at the waistband. My breath hitches as his dick springs up and brushes my face in the process. That same smug grin he keeps doing creeps onto his lips as he takes himself into his hand and pumps his cock steadily while looking down at me.
His free hand comes up to grab my jaw, his thumb parting my lips and teeth. He brushes the rough pad of his thumb across my tongue gently a few times before pushing it to the back of my throat, chuckling when I gag and pull away. He slides his head into my mouth and closes his eyes in pleasure.
I grip his base and pump with a twisting motion a few times before taking all I can of his length into my mouth. I begin to bob my head back and forth, stopping at the tip to swirl my tongue around his head every so often. His breathing gets heavier as I run my free hand up and down his abdomen, my nails leaving a trail of red marks in their wake.
He brings both hands into the lengths of my hair and twists it once around his hands before tugging my head back and thrusting himself further into the back of my throat.
“Look at you taking it so well, such a good girl for me,” he groans as he continues pumping in and out of my mouth.
He throws his head back and I can feel his dick twitching, so I pull back and hold my mouth open with my tongue out, ready to swallow his load.
“Ready to take it down your throat, hm? I have something else in mind, baby. Get on the bed.”
“Get me out of this thing first,” I beg, standing up with my back to him motioning to the zipper on my dress.
I feel his warm hands touch my hips and trail up my sides before brushing across my back and tugging the zipper down, pulling the straps off my shoulders and letting the dress hit the floor. I can feel his breath on my back as I feel the clasps of my bra coming undone slowly. I slip it off and toss my panties aside before crawling up the bed. I press my chest to the bed and arch my back as I feel the bed dipping beneath his weight. I feel his presence behind me before two hands come down to knead my ass and give it a light smack.
“It’s like you already knew how I wanted you,” he laughs and pulls my hips toward him.
“Lucky guess,” I giggle, my breath hitching soon after as I feel his hard dick sliding up and down my folds.
He slaps his tip against my entrance a couple times before pushing into me and sucking in a harsh breath.
“Such a tight little pussy,” he says as he bottoms out and holds for a few seconds.
I’m aching for movement so I wiggle my hips back and forth, feeling the fullness and how he feels against my walls. He grips onto my hips and squeezes, pulling out halfway before pushing all the way back in harshly.
He picks up his pace and the room is filled with moans and the sound of our skin slapping together. I can’t help but throw myself back into him, desperate to somehow have him deeper than what’s possible- it feels primal and animalistic. His sweat drips onto my back as he pants and keeps a steady rhythm, and the noises coming out of me are something I’ve never heard myself do before.
His thrusts get slower and slower, more unpredictable, before he pulls out and flips me onto my back, legs wide open for him.
“Touch yourself, baby. Let me watch.” he demands as he stays on his knees between my legs jerking himself.
I bring my hand down to my clit and rub small circles, watching as his eyes rake up and down my body. I bring my free hand up to my breast and pinch my nipple between my fingers, rolling and tugging gently.
His mouth hangs open and I watch the muscles in his arm contract as his grip tightens. I bring my finger up from my pussy to my mouth, tasting myself on my fingers and getting them wet before returning to my core, rubbing back and forth on my clit faster than before knowing I’m about to spill over the edge. I bite my lip to stifle my cries as my high crashes through my body, my head rushing and body tingling.
This must have been enough for Matt to break, and he watches intently as he spills his warm load onto my pussy, drips falling down onto the sheets underneath.
He falls down to lay beside me on the bed, both of us dizzy and dazed. I watch his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he catches his breath, not laying for too long before he gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth.
“Can I?” He asks, sitting between my legs and holding the rag out, a much more innocent look on his face than the last time he was in this position.
I giggle and nod, appreciating him wanting to help me clean up. This is such a different experience than any other one I’ve had in this line of work. It felt so much deeper and personal. I can’t let my mind play tricks on me, though. He’ll have another girl in this room before another week passes. I’m just another sugar baby he can get off to and forget about. I keep the smile on my face despite the way I’m feeling, knowing I need the money and I can’t screw this up by bringing up any sort of emotion.
He tosses the wash cloth into the bathroom trash before picking his shirt up from beside the bed and walking over to me.
“Uh, you can wear this.. if you want?” He says seeming unsure of himself.
“Oh, my original dress is in the drawer over there, that’ll probably look more normal than a big button up when I go back through the lobby,” I giggle and sit up, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed.
“I meant like.. if you wanted to stay a while? I don’t have anything comfier but I figured it’s better than a dress,” he trails off, shifting on his feet as he looks around the room.
Stay? I’ve never had any of these men clean me up before, let alone offer for me to stay.
“Y-yeah, sure. I mean, that sounds great! You don’t have anything else going on tonight?” I question, trying to gauge his reaction.
“No, nothing going on. I just..” he picks at the skin on his fingers before claiming a spot beside me on the bed and staring intently into my eyes.
“Did you feel it too? I’ve never felt that way with any of these hookups before. I feel like you get me. Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being a fucking idiot and reading too much into it. Let me get your check,” he says shaking his head and abruptly standing up.
I grab his hand and hop to my feet beside him, trying not to smile like a fool.
“No, no.. forget the check, Matt. I felt it too.”
He exhales a deep breath before gripping my face with both of his hands. “I want to get to know you properly, Y/n. I don’t want you to feel like I’m just using you.”
I press a kiss onto his lips and pull away smiling.
“Give me the damn shirt.”
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo
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If You Met Me First (Part 2) - Rooster
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Warrant Officer!Reader (Callsign: Echo)
Word Count: 1.8k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only
Warnings: Aftermath of 'In Love with Someone Already in a Relationship' Trope; Female Reader with Callsign (Echo)
Summary: Rooster isn't over Echo. But maybe fate will ease his pain.
Part 1
Master List
It had been exactly two hundred sixty-seven days since Echo left and Rooster still wasn’t over her.
He hadn’t reached out to her, save for texting her a simple birthday message. And she returned the favor when it came time. But that was about all of the contact that they had with each other since he watched her step down the tunnel at the airport. And yet, everywhere he walked, everywhere he looked, all that he could notice was the fact that she was missing from his life.
He found himself fussing over how her replacement ordered papers in the files when it didn’t matter. He still packed an extra sweatshirt in his car when he went to hang out with the Dagger Squad late at night, as if she would be there and forget to bring one for herself. He bought her coffee order at least three times in the first two weeks without her, since he always used it as an excuse to see her earlier in the morning. And he had to delete all social media from his phone or else he’d spend a creepy amount of time scrolling through her photos and posts.
And so, maybe an eight-month deployment on a carrier ship was good for him.
He couldn’t have his phone on him all day, so he wasn’t constantly checking it. There were plenty of distractions around the ship and he was never truly alone with his thoughts, though his roommate offered to give him some personal space if he needed it at least twenty thousand times. And it allowed him to refocus and get his emotions more under control.
“Happy to go back home?” Phoenix asked as they walked out onto the deck.
“It’s time,” Rooster replied with a shrug, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “It’ll be nice to see Mav again.”
“He picking you up?”
“If he doesn’t forget.”
Without too much fuss, they prepped their planes and soon they were flying over open water. They landed back in Miramar several hours later and Rooster was eager to get a homemade meal and sleep in his own bed. He didn’t really need much more than that to keep him content.
Cleaning up his station, Rooster gently pulled his photos off. He carefully tucked the old picture of him, his parents, and Mav into the front pocket of his flight suit before reaching for the second photo. It was of some of the Dagger Squad, but the real reason why he picked it was because Echo was up on his back, waving to the camera with her usual bright smile.
And, well, he had to pick a photo of her that he had a reasonable excuse for. Just in case.
Hopping out of his plane, Rooster thanked the ground crew before turning to the crowd of family and friends. There were already people running to greet the other pilots and wizzos but Rooster walked along calmly. Rooster shot Phoenix a wink and thumbs up when he saw her embracing her ‘good friend,’ and earned a middle finger in return. Chuckling to himself, Rooster looked through the crowd for Maverick.
But when he turned around and locked eyes with a different but so achingly familiar pair of eyes, his world stopped for a moment. The stars realigned, the clouds departed, and the sun moved to provide an ethereal backlighting to Echo’s figure as she stood at the back of the group of greeters.
She offered him a small smile but Rooster could tell by the way that she folded her arms behind her back and kept her chin down that she was nervous to see him. After a moment, she released her hands and started walking towards him, her confidence seeming to return with every step. And it was time for Rooster to start moving on his own.
Dropping his bag with an audible thump, Rooster turned and started walking towards Echo until his own eagerness to have her close took over and he started running. Echo let out a silent laugh when she spotted Rooster’s increased pace and moved faster too.
She let Rooster scoop her up and spin her around. Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, Echo held Rooster in a tight hug as he slowly stopped spinning her around. Rooster buried his face into her shoulder and kept his arms locked around her waist, holding her close. Hooking her ankles together around his back to steady herself, Echo sat up and smiled down at Rooster.
“Hey,” she greeted him, forcing herself to not run her thumb over his mustache.
“Hey,” he breathed out, still not sure if she was real or not.
“Hey,” she returned softly.
“You said that already,” Rooster pointed out, causing Echo to laugh sheepishly. Dropping her head against his shoulder, she curled her fingers into the fabric of his flight suit, familiarizing herself with the veins and lines of his back.
“I guess I did,” she mumbled out before picking her head up again. Reaching up to fix one of his curls, Echo added, “I missed you.”
What Rooster wanted to say was something along the lines of ‘do you have any idea of how many times I almost started driving after you? How many times my thumb hovered over your contact? How many times I bought something or watched something or listened to something simply because of the slight chance that you could be doing the exact same thing?’
But in the moment, staring at Echo, and feeling the weight of her in his arms, Rooster could only muster one simple phrase in return.
“I never stopped.”
Missing you, he implied.
Loving you, is what he actually meant.
Echo nodded slowly, offering him a small, enamored smile. She opened her mouth to respond, but thought better of the words that were threatening to spill out. Unlocking her ankles from around his back, Echo reached for the ground. Rooster released his hold under her thighs and reluctantly let her stand on her own two feet. Looking up at him from their usual height difference, Echo studied his expression for a moment.
“No injuries to report?” she asked quietly, trying to recenter herself.
“Not one,” Rooster assured her.
“Staying out of trouble?”
“Always.”
“That’s a lie,” Echo retorted, smiling up at him in a way that made Rooster desperate to kiss her.
“Maybe a little one,” Rooster agreed, chuckling to himself.
“I’m supposed to take you to the Hard Deck,” Echo stated, not moving to put any sort of physical space in between her and Rooster. Pulling out the keys to the Bronco from her pocket, she held them out to Rooster. “I’m under captain’s orders.”
“Alright,” Rooster replied, taking the keys and letting his touch linger on Echo’s hand.
Echo nodded and reluctantly took a step away. But before she got too far, he laced his fingers through her own, holding their hands together. Turning back to him with a questioning expression, Echo’s eyes widened a fraction as Rooster closed the space in between them again.
“But there’s something that I need to do first,” Rooster stated, causing Echo to nod, all the while she was pretty sure that she wasn’t breathing.
“What is it?” Echo asked softly.
“It depends on your answer.”
“My answer?” Echo mumbled, somewhat dumbly. “To what?”
“Can I kiss you?” Rooster questioned, causing Echo to suck in a sharp breath.
“You want to kiss me?”
“If you want, I can show you how much I want to kiss you.”
Echo let out a soft laugh, some of the tension leaving her body before gently resting her hand on Rooster’s cheek. Running her thumb over his mustache like she wanted to earlier, she then swiped her thumb over his lips, causing a groan to escape Rooster’s throat. Having teased him enough, Echo tilted her chin up to meet Rooster’s lips.
Chasing her lips like a starving man, Rooster wrapped his arms around Echo’s waist and pulled her impossibly closer. Smiling into the kiss as Rooster pulled her to her tiptoes, Echo cupped his face with her hand, trailing her fingers along his scars. Her heart was beating out of her chest and her cheeks warmed as Rooster drew her in for more.
Rooster thought that he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. The tension that felt like it had made a permanent home in his stomach slowly uncoiled and he let himself finally relax again. To enjoy the moment. And he was going to enjoy the moment. Cupping the back of her head, Rooster slowly deepened the kiss, causing a gasp to escape Echo’s lips.
Dropping her other hand down his chest as they made out like a bunch of horny teenagers on an airstrip, Echo moved her hand around Rooster’s back and snuck a quick squeeze of his ass. Rooster suddenly pulled back with a shocked expression, causing Echo to grow incredibly embarrassed.
“Sorry! It just . . . I wanted to . . .”
Echo made some awkward grabbing motions with her hand before Rooster let out a laugh that made her collapse against his chest with a mix of embarrassment and urge to just soak up his presence again. Echo looked up at Rooster bashfully through her eyelashes, though she clearly didn’t regret it.
“You can squeeze mine to make it even,” she offered to him.
“Before you risk a public indecency charge,” Phoenix called, walking past them on her way out to the parking lot, “you coming to the Hard Deck with everyone else?”
Rooster looked over at Phoenix, not really sure about how to answer as Echo rested her head on his chest. For two people who had spent nearly a year apart from each other, they looked exceedingly comfortable together. Phoenix had a pretty good guess that both Echo and Rooster wouldn’t want to trade that comfort for much else.
Not tonight. Not ever.
“We’ll go . . . after a pit stop?” Echo asked, turning to look up at Rooster, who smirked.
“We need to make a pit stop?” he drawled.
“Well, the gas is low in the Bronco,” Echo lied, but she sounded so serious, Rooster instantly deflated.
“What?”
Echo nudged Rooster with her elbow, causing him to perk up again. Phoenix rolled her eyes and shot them a knowing expression before walking off with her own ‘friend.’
Now alone again, Rooster pulled Echo with him to grab his bag from the ground before making their way out into the parking lot. He tossed his bag into the back of the Bronco before climbing into the driver’s seat next to Echo.
“So, we should get going to the, uh . . . pit stop?”
“We can go to the Hard Deck instead, if you want,” Echo replied, causing Rooster to shake his head rapidly. Echo laughed loudly, tilting her head back as she smiled over at Rooster. “Then start driving, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Rooster returned with a wink before starting up the Bronco.
Putting it into drive, Rooster pulled out of the lot and started heading off base. As the wind whipped through their hair, Roostee slowly reached out and slid his hand under Echo’s until she threaded her fingers through his own. They shared a look and a smile before driving off into the sunset together.
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Hi! For the event, can I request "ac is out and we're not wearing much" for everyone's fave Robert Floyd please? :D
ABSOLUTELY. 18+
For all the funding the military receives, one would think they'd invest in upgrading their HVAC system.
Today you learned that was not the case. The AC had been out since five. Meaning it was way too hot to reasonably hold trainings and classes.
Many of your colleagues took the unexpected day off to head to the beach. The idea of going somewhere even hotter was not appealing.
So you opted to stay. Though, you wondered how much better your room was compared to the beach.
You remember there being popsicles in the freezer of the communal kitchen. The icy treat sounded way better than staying in your hot, stuffy room.
You made your way through the hall, grateful that they were empty. It was hot and the last thing you wanted to do was talk to someone.
Cool air hit your face as you opened the freeze. Thank god there were popsicles, because who knows what you would do if there wasn't. You reached in to grab one, quickly tearing off the wrapper. The cool icy treat felt like heaven in your mouth.
"Hey Sunflower!" Your eyes perked up at your call sign and you turned around, wondering how the hell one could sound so damn chipper when it was blazing hot.
Upon taking sight of your greeter, you just about gagged on the popsicle.
It made sense. It shouldn't be a surprise. One had to be in decent shape to be a pilot, even if he was a WSO. So you definitely shouldn't be surprised and your eyes definitely shouldn't be widened, nor should your mouth be slacked upon seeing first hand that Robert "Bob" "Just Bob" Floyd didn't look alright without a shirt on.
He looked fucking hot.
You usually saw Bob more in the library, but you had occasionally seen him walk into the gym with his squad. So again, it shouldn't be a shock and you should really stop staring at the outline of his abs-
"Sunflower? You good?" Oh you had definitely been caught staring.
"Huh?" Gee could you sound any more obvious? "Oh yeah! Sorry. Uh, brainfreeze."
Bob was cute. You knew had come to terms with that. He didn't have an ego the size of Texas and was definitely the more levelheaded one out of the Maverick mission crew. Often when your groups intermingled, you'd find yourself sitting next to him at the bar, making small talk.
He was sweet and kind and respectful and you definitely had a crush on him. A crush you thought at the time was small and manageable.
Now, not so much.
"A brain freeze sounds much better than this," He motioned to the room, with that sweet smile that made your heart flutter.
Bob pointed to the freezer and good lord, his biceps, "Are there any more in there?"
You nodded your head, quickly wiping away what you hoped wasn't drool from the corner of your mouth.
He nodded his head, walking over to the freezer. Your eyes followed noticing that his usually gelled hair was curly and being kept under a hat fuck his back was muscular too.
"It's over there," You walked over, sandwiching yourself right between Bob and the fridge. Your hand reached for the popsicle that was on the lower shelf-something you easily saw due to your lack of height.
"Here ya-" your sentence was cut off, for as soon as you turned around you landed right in front of his toned chest.
Of course he smelled good.
"Hey, you okay?" Bob asked, his blue eyes full of concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine, totally fine-why wouldn't I be fine?" A laugh accompanied your sentence, one you hoped was convincing.
"Well, for starters you dropped your Popsicle," he pointed out. You looked down at the floor and yup, there was your icy treat. Melting away on the ground.
"You're also sweating a lot," his hands brushed against your bare arms, "You're also really clammy."
Was it that obvious? He was going to think you were a creep and rightfully so. While Bob didn't seem like the type to go about bragging that he made you look like an idiot, that wasn't going to stop the shame you'd now feel when-
"I think you're dehydrated. When was the last time you had water?"
Sure. That's totally plausible. It was the lack of water that was causing you to act out of sorts. Not Bob Floyd's pecs.
"I got three fans going in my room. Why don't we grab some ice and head back there to cool you off?" His hands were now firmly on your shoulders and wow they were big hands.
Wait. Room. His room.
Nope. That was a horrible idea. You should just go to the infirmary on base.
"Sure." Apparently your basement heart was doing the talking today.
--------------------------------
Just stay calm, stay fucking calm, you told yourself as you entered Bob's room.
"I can always go to the infirmary, you don't have to spend your day off taking care of me," You told him. Your feet should have been moving towards the door, but they remained planted on the ground.
"I don't mind," He smiled as he got out a towel and laid it on his bed. Because of course he didn't mind taking care of you. That was just Bob's way and one of the reasons you liked-
No, you couldn't think about that. Not when you were about to lie down on his bed.
Oh God you were going to be on his bed.
Just stay calm.
Just stay calm, Bob told himself as you laid down on his bed. The sports bra you wore rose a bit as you laid down, exposing more of your tattoo that he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of since running into you in the kitchen.
It made sense now why your call sign was sunflower. Inked marigold petals peaked out of your sports bra, trailing down your left rib cage.
You having a tattoo wasn't new to Bob. He first noticed the small illustration of lavender that adorned your right ankle the first time everyone went out to the Hard Deck. In fact, it was all he could focus on that night. Aside from your stunning smile.
It was just the fact you had more tattoos that set his mind off. Like how what looked like three flower stems would peek out on your right ribcage when you raised your hand.
Much better to focus on that than your thighs. Thighs that Bob may or may not have thought about late at night with his hand on his-
"Five. I have five, if you're wondering." You removed the cool washcloth to reveal those sparkling eyes, "I like letting people find out the others on their own."
Oh sweet Jesus. You were going to be the death of him with that seductive smirk.
He placed a hand on your arm, frowning at how it was still warm.
"Keep the washcloth on and keep sipping the water," Bob instructed, "Usually the best cure for dehydration is an air conditioned space, but we seem to be short on that today."
A chuckle escaped your lips, "How do you know so much?"
"I was an Eagle Scout. Worked pretty hard for my merit badge in first aid." Of course he was an Eagle Scout. Of course.
"What else did you get your badges in?" You asked, trying to ignore the way his dog tags were dangling over you as he leaned over to apply another cool washcloth to your forehead.
"Well to be an Eagle Scout there were some that were required. You know, lifesaving, hiking, emergency preparedness, camping. Got really good at learning how to tie knots."
Was the gasp you let out from what he just implied or from the ice cube that was now being traced along your neck?
"Sorry!" Bob apologized, "Shoulda warned you. Helps keep you cool."
"I-it's fine," you mumbled, "I trust you."
The ice cube trailed down your neck to your collarbone. The coldness was a great respite on your hot, clammy skin. You tried to focus on the ceiling, but your eyes kept trailing back down to watch his long fingers trace the ice cube along your skin.
Bob's fingers were gentle, yet targeted. A shudder ran through your body as you felt the coldness hit your ribs, spreading to your stomach. His blue eyes were focused on your body and it's reaction to the ice cube.
Why did he have to have his tongue stick out as he concentrated on running the ice cube over your thigh? Was it truly necessary oh fuck he just licked his lips.
This was a new low for you. It truly was pathetic. His lips were just chapped, he wasn't licking them at you. If Phoenix found out about this, she would never let you live it down. And rightfully so.
It was stupid how hot he was.
"It's stupid how what I am?" Bob asked, his eyes now on your face.
Oh fuck. Oh no. Did you actually say that out loud?
All that could come out of your mouth was a confused "huh?". Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to convince him that he misheard you.
"You...you said it was stupid how hot I am."
Nope.
"Oh, did I?" You forced a laugh out of you, "I...that's not what I meant. I was trying to say it's stupid how hot it is. But I was looking at you so that's probably why I said that."
Realization just hit you like a freight train.
"Not that you're not hot! You are hot," this wasn't getting any better, "Not like that. I mean yes, you're very nice to look at but that's not all you have to offer and I'm just going to stop talking right now."
Your hands flew to your face, covering it. Not that it helped conceal how flustered you felt. You were never going to live this down and rightfully so.
A low chuckle filled your ears. You felt a large pair of hands pry yours away from your face.
"You're really cute when you're flustered," Bob remarked, his face now inches away from yours. The cool metal of his dog tags grazed your chest.
He thought you were cute.
Oh.
His lips were barely an inch away from yours.
It felt like you two were staring at each other for an eternity. The room was dead quiet, aside from heavy breathing and silently loud realizations.
In the end, you propped yourself up with your elbows, closing the distance between you and Bob.
At first, it was just your lips moving, as it took Bob a second to process that you were actually kissing him.
But then a switch went off. Call it realization hitting him like a freight train or the way your hips brushed against his when you leaned up to deepen the kiss.
Either way, you soon found your back against the mattress and a pair of large hands gripping your thighs.
His hat finally came off. More like you threw it off, as you had been dying to run your fingers through his hair. You grabbed a handful of hair, tugging it.
The action earned a grunt out of Bob, a near animalistic sound you didn't expect from the quiet, reserved pilot.
Curious, you repeated the motion. A similar noise came out of Bob's mouth, this time more gutteral. He grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head.
Alright, maybe he wasn't so reserved.
Bob was used to the shock. He didn't exactly radiate an assertive presence at work. He just didn't find it necessary.
But he knew what he liked in the bedroom.
He also knew that if you kept tugging on his hair and grinding your hips, he was going to come in his shorts like a teenager. And Bob much preferred your mouth or hand (or inside of you, if you allowed).
"Use your words," he ordered, surprising you even further.
Usually it's nice to see a new side of people. Not so much when you know that new side will have you completely and utterly under his thumb.
"Use your words," He repeated, "Tell me what you want."
Oh, you were so screwed.
"Y-you," you gulped, "Been wanting you for the last month." Great, you were rambling again.
Bob's eyes widened, "You mean we could have been doing this for a whole month?"
You nodded, a giggle escaping your lips. Bob joined in, all the tension melting away. He pressed his forehead against yours as you two continue to laugh about how obvious your feelings were for each other upon reflection.
Neither of you mind that what probably should have been a more sexual moment had turned into something sweet. It put you both at ease, allowing you to laugh as you took turns sharing the details of the development of your crush on one another between soft kisses.
But even sweet kisses can turn heated. You discovered this upon kissing along his jawline, causing Bob in turn to grab your thighs and bring them to his hips.
You were at a crossroads. You could continue simply kissing. You could stop, maybe go out to some restaurant that had proper AC.
Or you could keep going.
"Y'know," Bob began, "I hear that uh...sweating is good for treating dehydration. Would you want to-"
"Yes." Sounding desperate was no longer a concern. The man just admitted to falling for you his first day on base.
"I also hear that....removing any extra clothing is helpful." How could someone be so cheeky but also bashful at the same time? The way the tips of his ears were turning red was adorable, it was unfair.
So, to make it an even playing field, you sat up, making quick work of removing your sports bra. You were unable to contain your grin as you laid back down, Bob's eyes wide.
"Fuck." Did it give you a boost of pride that you were able to make the man who never cursed, curse?
Little bit.
Any boost in ego you just gained faded as his hands touched your rib cage, his fingers tracing over your now fully exposed tattoos.
"Knew it. I knew they were flowers," He muttered as he stared at the three flowers that adorned the right side of your rib cage.
A taunting comment about finding the other two was on the tip of your tongue. It quickly died as you felt his teeth graze your chest.
Normally, you'd say something about no hickeys. Whether it was due to the heat or the fact Bob's long fingers were kneading your breasts, you decided to keep your mouth shut.
At least about the hickeys. You were quite vocal about the way his fingers felt, pinching your nipples before trailing down your stomach, to the waistband of your shorts.
The somewhat cool air from the fans hit your now exposed core. Bob's thumb traced over the outline of a sun that adorned your hip.
He leaned down, his tongue lavishing the newly discovered tattoo. His fingers were now tracing over the apex of your thigh, not quite close enough to where you wanted him, where you needed him the most.
Bob couldn't help but chuckle as you spread your legs. His lips trailed back up your stomach, to your breasts, up to your neck until they finally reached your own lips.
He was such a good kisser, you couldn't find it in yourself to complain, despite the current ache between your legs.
You felt a pair of large hands grip your thighs. Final-
Your whole body was lifted off the mattress, eliciting a squeal that Bob thought was the cutest noise he had ever heard. Now the positions had switched with Bob lying down and you on top of him.
You couldn't tell what turned you on more- the fact you were on top of him, completely exposed or the fact he was strong enough to just casually manhandle you.
"Sit up." Your brow furrowed in confusion, though you still obeyed.
"Up." You looked at Bob, who was currently placing his glasses on the nightstand. He noticed your confused look and grinned as he pointed to his face.
"Sweating is a good way to treat dehydration. What better way to sweat than riding?"
Your mouth fell open, shocked that Bob Floyd not only knew what that was, but also that he just asked you to sit on his face.
His smile faltered, concern replacing it, "unless you don't want-"
"I want to," You cut him off and moved yourself upwards so you were hovering over his head.
Bob flashed you that cheeky, lopsided smile you were now desperate to see more often, before hooking his arms under your thighs.
In addition to looking good without a shirt, Bob Floyd also knew how to work his mouth. Your hips bucked against his face as soon as you felt his tongue on your clit.
You were quite thankful that the majority of your colleagues were at the beach because keeping quiet with Bob Floyd's head between your thighs was quite difficult.
His nose brushed against your clit, the movement sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You leaned forward, gripping the sheet with one hand, the other finding its way into his sunkissed hair.
You and Bob were both pretty perceptive. It was part of your job after all. He learned quickly based on your moans that you really enjoyed it when his tongue brushed against your walls.
You had learned that tugging his hair would elicit a moan out of him, one that would vibrate against your core and send chills up your spine.
"F-Fuck, I'm gonna-"
Bob hummed against you, signaling that he heard you. However, his tongue refused to let up against your clit.
You tried to sit up, trying to move your thighs away from his face. Bob sensed this, tightening the grip he has on them.
Your eyes met his dark blue ones, confused because did he realize what would happen if he kept doing that?
"I need to-" you began, but were cut off with a grunt from down below. Bob shook his head before latching onto your clit.
Oh fuck, he knew exactly what would happen. He knew and he wanted it.
The realization, along with the circles he was drawing on your bundle of nerves, sent you crashing over the edge. You were definitely grinding yourself against his face and could feel the sweat trickling down your neck and chest.
Normally you'd care about being loud, you'd have some restraint, but Bob's mouth had thrown all that out the window.
Your hand tightened its grip in his hair, the light locks acting as an anchor to keep you from collapsing as his mouth continued to help you ride out your high.
As you slowly came back to reality, it hit you that Bob's head was still very much between your thighs.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You rushed, scrambling to get off and give him air.
Bob just laughed, the action causing your nose to scrunch up and heat to rise in your cheeks.
"I often have to think about how I die and if it's between your thighs," He paused, grinning, "That's not the worst way to go."
You laughed as you laid down on his bed. Normally you would be embarrassed by how flustered he made you, but somehow, for some reason, you didn't mind.
Maybe it was the sweet, warm laugh he gave off. Maybe it was the way he pried your hands away from your face, quickly pressing his lips against yours. That was probably why you were already thinking of five different scenarios in which you could get yourself alone with Bob.
Luckily for you, Bob had already come up with four additional scenarios in which he could whisk you away. He refused for the feeling of your lips (or cunt) pressed against his to be a one time thing.
Not if he had a say in it.
#bob floyd#robert bob floyd#top gun fanfiction#bob floyd x y/n#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd imagine#robert bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd x reader#lewis pullman#top gun#top gun maverick
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Making a Deal (Part 2)
Summary: Your date, gentlemen and distinguished folks
Warning(s): House being rude to waiting restaurant staff, being misgendered/mistaken as a woman (being called ma'am), self doubt, and anxiety
Pairing(s): Greg House x ftm reader
You stood on the sidewalk waiting for House to drive up. He had insisted on picking you up and treating it like an actual date. He was even on time when you recognized his car approaching you.
You gave him a small wave and watched as he pulled up along the sidewalk, and stopped the car a few feet ahead of where you were.
You frowned as you started walking towards the car. He got out and started limping around to the other side.
“What’d you do that for?”
“Because if I pulled up beside you, you would get in the car myself. And if memory serves, that’s not exactly how dates go.” He responds, opening up the passenger door for you.
“Right, but isn’t that for women?”
“Ever heard of equality, l/n? Get in the car.”
You huffed, and got in—him practically slamming the door shut after you. He slammed his door shut as well after he got in, and you wondered if he knew he didn’t need to slam it for it to properly close, but decided against bringing it up.
Aside from the radio playing, the majority of the car ride was silent between the two of you—House made a few comments about the restaurant he was taking you to, and made a joke about how he didn’t know what food you liked. He occasionally made comments about what was playing, but he never changed the station.
“Don’t get out yet.” He ordered after he had parked the car. He got out himself, then limped to your side, and opened your door for you.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” House made a point of saying the words, but he loosely linked his arm to yours as you made your way toward the restaurant. He gave the greeter his name for the reservation, and the two of you were led to your table.
The restaurant was admittedly nicer than you thought it would be, however, the conversation was as forced as you predicted it would be, despite the few compliments he made.
It wasn’t very long before the waitress introduced herself, and offered to get your drinks. House ordered your drink for you—insisting you try something and trust him—and by the time the waitress got back with your drinks, she took your orders.
House decided to go first, and you were about to make a biting comment about how he could’ve just picked something for you when you realized something: you had never presented as male before in public. Not like this, at least. You hadn’t been able to get any interviews yet, and when you went to the store, you were always able to go to the self-checkout.
“And for you sir?” The waitress turned to you, and you barely registered that she was talking to you.
You cleared your throat, attempting to deepen your voice.
“I’ll take the—” You cut yourself off by the waitress’s expression.
“I–I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—I meant ma’am.”
You tried not to flinch at the word. You glanced at House and saw he was glaring at the waitress.
“I know they don’t pay you much,” he growled, making her turn to face him, “and obviously you didn’t get much schooling, but you must be an idiot to refer to my boyfriend as ‘ma’am’.”
He made a point of mocking the word ‘ma’am’, like a child who just learned a new nonsense word, and thinks it’s the most ridiculous thing ever to roll off their tongue.
“I—right, I’m sorry, it’s my mistake—” She said, turning to address you now.
“That was established.” House scoffed.
“What can I get for you, sir?” The waitress asked a little quieter now, though you were sure it was only to avoid any more ridicule from House.
You gave her your order—her quickly jotting it down as you said it, repeating it to the both of you to make sure she got both orders right, and quickly walking back to the kitchen.
House rolled his eyes. “Honestly, if I can’t escape idiots at work, you’d think I’d at least be able to avoid them here.”
“It’s okay.”
“Not really.”
“No, I mean…I understand why she thought…I don’t look very masculine.”
House cocked his head to the side. “Sure, maybe you don’t have a beard to make it obvious you have a mix of testosterone and the proper hormones to give some people the hint that maybe you possibly are male, but that doesn’t mean she should be rude about it.”
“She wasn’t being rude.”
“Yes, she was. You’re clearly presenting as male, she had no issue in assuming that we were two men having dinner, and did not hesitate to call you ‘sir’. She only changed when she heard her voice. Which is rude. Especially considering there could’ve been a genetic reason or medical reason for you not having a lower voice.”
“I know that, but—”
“No buts. Let her learn her lesson.”
You gave him a look. “When did you teach her a lesson?” You teased slightly.
“That she shouldn’t have just assumed what you preferred to be called. If you didn’t want to be called ‘sir’, you would’ve corrected her the first time. Or I would have.” House paused, before slightly furrowing his brow. “Besides, no one wants to be called ‘ma’am.”
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Here's a silly ask. I'm in my 30s now but I was once young dumb and full of cum like any other teen boy. I got tall and bearded early looked old as fuck tbh thought it was great then but less great when I go in to buy cigarettes nowadays and some guy says thank you for serving in Vietnam and I have to say bro. Bro. I was born in 1992 and went bald at 21. Anyway that's not the point. So I'm this 15 year old former fat boy with the rage of being bullied for being fat stuck suddenly in a 6'2 body. Wrestling and free weights were all I cared about. I'd been in so many street and school fights and won all of them. Because I was kicking the shit out of bullies teachers kinda turned a blind eye. Also because I was undefeated in wrestling and got my school gold in nationals I knew I can handle my shit. So there was a door greeter at Walmart who at the time I thought was old as balls cuz I was fifteen right but the dude was probably like. Forty. Some short Mexican guy. And he caught me shoplifting and I said wtf you getting mad at bro you ain't gonna touch me door greets can't do shit. And he says boy I ever see you steal shit again I'll teach you manners when I see you off the clock. Guy also worked at the bar and thought I was older than 21 cuz I looked older. Like full ass Brigham Young beard and a receeding hairline, couldn't even drive yet, so he never ID me. Bold as hell I steal shit in front of him again. I knew I could take his old ass, I was in my prime. So I see him at the bar later that night and he meets me outside both of us sober. He says you really gonna get your ass beat over a Snickers? in front of the bar crowd and I go someone's about to and charged him. To say he beat my ass would be a lie. He didn't beat it. He obliterated my ego and body and soul there in front of everybody I fucking knew. Had me spinning around his 5'2 head like one of bruce lee's bo staffs and bapping me against the walls and sidewalk. My dumb ass kept standing up and he kept going you sure son? and I was like shit yeah. Well eventually I just kept my ass on the ground and he helps me up, asks what my name is, says he'll take me home since I walked there. Goes why did you walk? I say oh I'm not sixteen yet. And that's how I got permanently 86'd from every bar in my hometown.
This is top tier, excellent pacing and character development. The drama of a Wal Mart greeter who cares way too much about his job vs the kid who definitely needed to be taken down a peg (I mean. You did. Sorry. <3). A+.
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Hello!! Could I please request a ship? Preferably with 2 options.
Some things about me, I’m about 5’2, ethnically south Asian. I like reading and writing a lot, I also like listening to music. One favourite thing of mine is to drive around with no destination and listen to music and eat food. I’m competitive when I need to be and I like hanging out with groups of people. You could consider me a social butterfly of sorts but I’m shy during an initial meeting. My job is nothing too exciting since I’m still in school (uni) but I work as a hostess ( initial greeter and seating people at tables) at a restaurant.
Thank you 💗
-🌸🌸
tysm for sending in your request - I hope you like it honey!
LANDO NORRIS ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹
- calls you honey or baby
- loves the fact that you're shorter than him and although he teases you a lot he also agrees that you're the perfect height for forehead kisses!
- his love language is quality time
- loves being your dependable bf and occasionally spoiling you with gifts
lando loves spending as much time with you as possible. he's always down to get in the car and drive; either to a pre-planned destination or where ever the road takes you, even if that's just a car park where you can pull up and look at nice scenery from where you're sat! despite the fact you're his passenger princess and he loves having you in the car, he won't always let you take aux, so you swap who's playlist gets put on every time you go somewhere! he loves hearing new songs and artists through you and sometimes makes little playlists for you of songs that he thinks fit your vibe and remind him of you.
he loves that you're a social butterfly, and while he is always there for you when meeting new people or in a new situation, he'll always help you push yourself out of your comfort zone just because he loves seeing you flourish!
he tries his best to help you study but really it's just like trying to study with a puppy or a kitten on your lap. he's constantly poking at you, asking you questions, trying to show you 'relevant' memes and tiktoks and the question "how much longer?" is a common phrase. despite this he takes great care of you when you have exams coming up, especially if you're also working at the same time! he helps you organise your notes and even colour codes some of them for you. he helps you make flashcards for revision and he makes your favourite snack and drink then reminds you to take a break while you eat it! (you know he reminds you about breaks regularly because it means he gets your full attention)
"baby?" when he doesn't get a response, lando gently nudges your shoulder, desperately hoping to drag your eyes away from your laptop screen, "baaaaby?" you let out a breath of laughter, continuing to type, partly ignoring him to tease him just because his pouty response is so cute,
"lando as soon as the timer goes off I promise I'll take a break okay?" he huffs but relents. all is silent for a moment before he's standing up and heading to the kitchen. you hear him clattering around, muttering to himself as he searches for whatever he needs. it's a comforting kind of background noise though and so you continue to study until the loud beeping of your break timer rings through the room.
it's barely beeped twice before you hear lando's sock covered feet sliding along the floor as he sprints back into the room, a tray of your favourite snacks and drinks in his hand as a big cheesy smile spreads across his face,
"breaktime?" you nod, he cheers, "time to cuddle!"
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
OSCAR PIASTRI ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹
- calls you love or bub
- he also loves your height and the way you fit perfectly in his arms, your head in his neck
- his love language is acts of service
- oscar loves spoiling you with a sweet surprise now and again but he values surprising you by doing things for you much more
there's nothing oscar loves more than taking care of you when you get home from a shift. as soon as he hears you approaching the front door, he's putting down whatever he's doing and heading to greet you, opening the door for you before he kisses you. he always helps you slide your shoes off and next thing you know you're being escorted to the bathroom where a hot bath sits there steaming. he always makes sure that all your skincare is laid out on the counter ready to be used, as well as placing your towel and cosy clothes on the rail to warm up while you bathe. he loves to leave you with one last kiss before he leaves the room to grab your water bottle and lunch containers from the day, making sure they're washed out and ready for the next time you need them.
oscar loves quiet afternoons with you where you both sit on the couch together, his head in your lap as you read your latest book. he actually has plenty of candid pics of you curled up in various places with various instalments of your series held firmly in your hand. these pictures are what usually occupy his lockscreen and whenever he's away from you, even if it's just for a day or two, someone will always catch him staring at his lockscreen with a sappy lovestruck look on his face and if anyone asks him about it, he's proudly showing you off to them!
the door opens before you can even grab the handle and on the other side stands your boyfriend, his sweet smile greeting you and instantly melting your stress.
"hi love," he reaches for your bag and gently grabs your waist to pull you into him as you walk through the door, pressing a kiss to your lips, "how was work?" you groan and shake your head,
"long and I had some pretty shitty customers..." he kisses the side of your head softly and places your bag on the hallway table, closing the front door behind you before he's crouching down to undo your shoes and take them off.
"I'm sorry to hear that bub... but now you're home and you can relax hmm?" you nod and he stands up, taking your hand to lead you down the hallway to the bathroom. he stands behind you and places his hands on your shoulders as you sigh happily at the sight in front of you. "you just take your time to relax okay? I'll be here when you get out and we can order some dinner and you can tell me all about it."
#mimi's 500 celebration ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡#mimi.writes#🌸 anon#f1 x reader#oscar piastri x reader#lando norris x reader
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New Goth: Chapter 4, Part 2
Saturday is date night!
Back home Alexander works out his frustrations on a punching bag. Dina always manages to rile him up. He’s also discovered he has ADHD, Cassandra’s diagnosis had him look into it. James may fit in a workout but he does get very tired afterwards. What can turn that frown upside down? A cat! He goes in search of someone fluffy, Hamlet is playing on the cat tree upstairs.
James: Hey boy, can I have a couch snuggle
Hamlet: *meows* Of course dad
James: You look good in that cape. We must get you a special look for Harvestfest, we want to impress the guests
Hamlet: *purrs* We will if I’m there
Settling down with the oldest journal Milton begins to read.
Dear diary, how exciting is that to write! I got 10 out of 10 on my spelling tests all month so daddy bought me the journal I wanted. I’m excited to start keeping proper track of things. Yes I’m 8 but never to early to organise. Michael makes fun of me but I know he’d never peek. Sometimes I think I have the best older brother in the world…
Milton: I know the feeling mummy
Alexander: Can you follow the star Gertrude
Gertrude: *meows* Oh it is so dead
Alexander: Where’d it go? Where’d it go
Gertrude: *meows* I got it! Wait… get back here star!
Alexander: I think I’ve tortured you enough for one day *turns off laser pointer*
Gertrude: *meows* It… vanished???
Alexander: Here, how about a brush. You do look impressive in the armour but we must keep your coat looking as lovely as you
Hamlet: *meows* I am more impressive
Gertrude: *purrs* dream on son
Milton: Alexander?
Alexander: We’re in here
Milton: I wanted to say thanks to you and Uncle James for the new room
James: You’re very welcome
Milton: I know you have your date but when you get back could we maybe… just for tonight… have a sleepover in my room
Alexander: That sounds fun but I don’t know if James’ back will-
James: I would love a sleepover Milton
Milton’s face lights up at this news.
Milton: I’ll see you later then. Come home safe... promise?
Alexander: We will Milton, I promise
We head to Chez Llama where our normal greeter is on duty.
Caleb: Name?
Alexander: There should be a reservation under Goth
Caleb: Under Goth? Are you sure
Alexander: Yes I made the reservation myself
Caleb flicks his eyes over Alexander’s suit, his aged companion and the space where a celebrity shine isn’t.
Caleb: Yes... well we are very busy tonight
Alexander: No one is in the restaurant yet
Caleb: We have many distinguished patrons, we must keep room for them
Alexander: My father was a five star celebrity
Caleb: Yes, he was
Alexander: My parents spent a fortune here
James: Are you sure we’re not on there? Sorry love, looks like we’ll have to take our service elsewhere *sighs*
Alexander: Look- Caleb? I know I made the reservation. We are long time patrons who wish to spend money here. If you have a problem with that perhaps I should ask to speak to your boss
Caleb: *stiffens* That won’t be necessary- sir, here it is
James: Just like magic
Caleb: If you’ll follow me
The two are escorted to a small table just inside the restaurant.
James: What was that man’s problem
Alexander: I guess he didn’t think we were famous enough
James: Well make sure to leave a big tip so he knows we don’t have hard feelings
Alexander: We don’t have to
James: Maybe we don’t have to but we should. If anything maybe it will make him less judging of future guests that don’t have celebrity status
Diaz: Hello there, what can I get you tonight sirs?
Alexander: Nectar. White I think
James murmurs in agreement and the waiter’s pen begins to mark down the order.
James: You order first love
Alexander: Could I please have the… hmm, the tiger shrimp broth sounds good
Diaz: very good sir
James: Can I have a space taco please
Diaz: Of course sir
The waiter speeds off and Alexander looks at James chuckling.
Alexander: Swanky restaurant and my husband orders a taco
James: Space taco. Maybe it’ll make me fly
Alexander: *laughs* Just don’t go getting abducted, they’ll impregnate a handsome man like you for sure
James: I have been thinking pregnancy thoughts lately
Alexander: *chuckles* Of course. We’ll have a science baby with my hair and your eyes and-
James: Actually…
Alexander: You don’t want a science baby with me?
James: I’d love one, don’t misunderstand me. Raising a mini you would be great but we have to be realistic
Alexander: What do you mean
James: Love, I’m not getting any younger
Alexander: Ridiculous! You’re plenty young
James: You’re sweet but we both know I’m not. Humans here seem to live to about 80
Alexander: Joey would say it’s the watchers fault
James: Yes, he probably would. But Alexander, I want a kid who’s going to remember me
Alexander: But… You’re only 74, you’ve got time left
James: Maybe but not enough time for an infant to get to know me properly. Not enough time for me to be able to pass on my life lessons. Not enough time… for me to know them
Alexander: So what are you saying sweets
James: I’d like to adopt a child or even a teen…
James: What do you think
Alexander: It’s just… something we haven’t discussed before
James: I know, and I’m bringing it up now
Alexander: I mean… I’m not against adoption. Not at all. But… a teen?
James: I know how to handle teens from all my years teaching
Alexander: Yes but *quietly* who says I’ll know what to do
James: You’re wonderful with Milton. You're going to make a great dad
Alexander: Yeah but Milton is my brother. How am I meant to be a dad to someone only a decade younger than me?
James: You won’t be doing it alone, I’m going to be here as long as I can
Alexander: You really want a kid that remembers you huh
James: I do. And I want to leave you with someone that can look out for you to
Alexander: What will I do when you’re gone
James: Pretty sure parenting has a pretty steep learning curve. By the time… well you will know more than nothing
Alexander: What if they don’t respect me
James: I’ll teach them to, we’ll teach them to
Alexander: *sighs* I suppose it can’t hurt to look in to it
James: I’ll win you over eventually
Alexander: *winks* You always do
Previous ... Next
#sims 4#the sims#the sims 4#simblr#my sims#ChangingPlumbobStorytime#R0905#JamesGoth#AlexanderGoth#MiltonGoth
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just an idea I’ve been workshopping since I saw the movie
luigi x reader where the reader is a goth prince/ss who took up residence in the dark lands after bowser’s defeat and despite the victorian vampire aesthetic, they’re actually really sweet and rather romantic.
OBSESSED
☆
Vampire Kisses
Summary: Due to Bowsers' defeat, someone else had to take over ruling the darklands, and the fill-in just so happened to catch Luigis eye.
Relationship: Platonic with romantic attributes
Character: Luigi
Warnings: fluff, gn reader
"Hello?"
Princess Peach knocked at the large door of the revamped castle in the dark lands, she had recently heard news of a new ruler and civilization and she wanted to give them all a nice welcome.
"Do you think they're even here?" Mario asked the princess, she sighed out, "Why wouldn't they be? We've already ran into so many of the villagers, I'm sure they wouldn't leave their people right after being pronounced the new leader."
Luigi wasn't too keen on the idea; he had an obvious hatred towards the area for obvious reasons but came anyway since he and Mario were pretty much the heroes - and plumbers - of The Mushroom Kingdom.
The door finally opened, they were all greeted by a man in a black Victorian suit, "Yes?"
"Oh, um, hi, we're here to see the ruler."
"May ask why and who you are?"
"Yes, I am Princess Peach of the Mushroom Kingdom and I wanted to come introduce myself. This is Mario and Luigi, they're some of our kingdoms bravest."
"I see, come with me."
The man led them all further into the castle, the lighting was getting darker and darker with a few candles scattered throughout the corridor. Luigi shakily looked around at his surroundings, seeing this as just another bowser situation.
Finally the man stopped at the near end of the corridor and opened the door for them all, "Lord Y/N?"
"Yes?"
"Princess Peach of Mushroom Kingdom and her," He paused, "Knights, are here to greet you."
"Let them in."
The man gave them all an approving look and moved out of the way for them to make their way in. Peach guided Mario and Luigi into the room where you slowly walked out of the shadows.
She sent a petite bow your way which you returned, "Thank you for stopping by, Princess."
"It's no trouble at all, I felt it was only right."
"And who are these people behind you? Are they really knights; shouldn't they be wearing armor?"
Peach laughed, "No, they did help us defeat bowser, our kingdom is forever grateful."
You also laughed with her, "Well I'm glad that's cleared up, I had never known of knights that wore such garments."
When you laughed Luigi caught a glimpse of you smile, it was a beautiful smile, but it was the shape of the teeth that irked him, he looked over at Mario to see if he saw the same thing.
"You're very good at flattering people." Mario stated, causing you to laugh again. "I'm Mario, it's a pleasure to me you."
You sent an approving nod his way and looked over at Luigi, "So you must be,"
"Oh, I'm Luigi." He mustered out in a shaky voice, you noticed this, it wasn't the first time something like this has happened, this is why your family has always had a door greeter or hasn't participated in certain royal occasions.
One wrong move and you're proving to people that you're a monster that should be chained and locked up away somewhere.
You pursed your lips, considering different ways to approach it, deciding to just ease the tension. You sent a big smile his way, "I come from a line of vampires, it's a blessing yet a curse."
Marios eyes widened, Peach kept a calm look on her face while giving Mario a slight nudge to act professional. Luigi surprisingly softened up, becoming enticed by your aura, he gave you a sweet smile back.
"Would you all like to sit down? I can have us some tea made; it probably was a long trip over here." You asked the each of them.
"No, it's okay, we don't want to be any trouble, we just wanted to come make sure everything was fine over here!" Peach replied, you had to admit that you were a little hurt by the subtle rejection until Luigi chimed in,
"I wouldn't mind tea, if it's not any trouble, besides we just got here, let's sit down and get to know each other."
You rang the house bell in kitchen to call up some tea, "Now we wait" you said before walking back and forwarding them to the lounge chairs near your desk.
-
"It was amazing, thank you." Peach said as you walked them out, "Thank you for coming, it really made my day." You smiled.
Mario sent a small wave goodbye and walked out with Peach; Luigi stopped before reaching outside the door.
"It was nice meeting you, I enjoyed it here."
You've never had some speak this way about you, unless it was your family, "It was nice meeting you as well, I'll expect you back, you know?"
"You can count on it."
IM BACK
the title was a little bit of false advertising so sorry, lmk if yall want a part 2!!
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Today's WIP Wednesday brought to you by me not writing what I'm supposed to be writing. Thanks to @bigassbowlingballhead, @cha-melodius, @iboatedhere, @onthewaytosomewhere, @violetbaudelaire-quagmire, and @eusuntgratie for the tags. 💋
Literally told @eusuntgratie I wasn't going to write this fic twenty four hours ago (lol) and then I spent my entire shower today imagining how it would play out, so like—oops I guess!!!! Have some sentences from a silly, goofy AU where they both work at a mall in the late 00s and Alex is a shirtless Abercrombie greeter. Inspired by one of my favorite bits of Nick lore. 😉
Henry has a sack lunch, a dog-eared copy of Persuasion, and a blessed half-hour of free time in which to enjoy them. A whole half-hour until he reports back to shift manager Carol and gets relegated to sorting cds or novelty bookmarks or sweeping the reading room for the remains of his shift.
The problem is that the food court is clear at the opposite end of this godforsaken complex. Henry has yet to get his bearings on the layout. Frankly he’s unsure that he ever will. American shopping malls are, in his opinion, a place where proper architectural decision making comes to die.
So he dodges the pushy sales girls in front of Bath & Body Works, skids past the cellular phone kiosks and the Piercing Pagoda with its line of nervous tweens. He’s about to turn in search of the escalator when he sees perhaps the most attractive guy he’s had the pleasure of laying his eyes on since he stepped foot in this ridiculous state. Maybe ever. He’s reasonably tall. Muscular. Creamy brown skin and a mess of dark, looping curls on his head and smiling an absolutely lethal smile at whoever he’s speaking to. The kind that would get Henry out of his itchy trousers and on his knees in five seconds or less. Not to mention he’s bloody shirtless.
Open tag today because it's already nearly Thursday where I am!
#just an excuse to wax poetic about being a mid-00s mall rat#and delight in how horrified henry would be by the concept#roux writes#wip wednesday#rwrb fic
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𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞
bingiplier drabble
︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭
Arcades were becoming less and less frequent. Hearing such businesses shut down had become commonplace, almost like a repeat of the videostore extinction. Still, one place in town kept itself busy, doubling itself on minigolf and a bowling alley. That wasn't the reason why people went. This particular entertainment centre advertised androids as their greeters and guides. Each android had their own story, often shared amongst the human employees rather than the customers.
You could be one of the lucky few.
A Bing unit offered to be your guide throughout the activities. As stated on the website, Microsoft gifted a good handful of its creations to this establishment - must have something to do with their latest VR experience, which was also installed and advertised. That was it for surface knowledge, not that you initially planned on diving deeper.
The slightest hint of a snicker tainted the air as you missed yet another swing. Snapping your head at your artificial guide, you couldn't help but notice the silliest, goddamn goofiest grin wiped across his face. At least someone was having fun. Bing leaned on his club, careful not to break it under his own weight. “Between you and me, I ain't good at this either.” Unaware of any sort of rules, without swapping your ball out for his, he decided to take a swing. The ball never left the tee. But, oh something did fly.
“Whoops.” Did Bing throw his club on purpose? It completely slipped his grip, and there it was, lying on the astroturf. For an attempt to cheer you up, it was a little patronising. Still, he tried. You were smiling, weren't you? There wasn't a clear winner by the end, not that the competition mattered.
Bing continued guiding you through activities, cheering you on. Though, after a genuinely disheartening loss, he removed his shades and placed them on you instead. “Keep em! I have more.” Such an uplifting attitude, from someone who arguably wasn't real by human standards. Seeing the black sclera and orange irises in his mechanical eyes, it further pushed his nonhuman existence. Despite that, his grins were contagious, as was his laughter.
The two of you sat down, eventually. It was the perfect moment to ask questions. “Were you programmed this way?”
“What way?” He threw the question back at you.
“You know, all human-like! You're so... expressive?”
The Bing unit could only laugh, as he has been all day. “We call it "breaking the stereotype." But, yeah kinda. It's more like I was programmed to adapt socially.”
Moments passed, an employee walking over with the food you ordered, and a little bit extra. A hotdog? You never asked for that. Before you could open your mouth to question them, the android at your side eagerly snatched at the food. Right after a quick, "Thanks!" you watched as he began chowing down.
“You eat?!”
“Yeah, don't you?”
That was... a valid respond. The two of you shared lunch together, then your goodbyes. Well, you surely learnt more about him, nothing truly groundbreaking, but it was a start. You got some free shades out of it too.
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Wounding Care *Fic Preview*
tw cursing, racism, past parent-child abuse, aging parent, dementia
It's present day, Neil is in his 80s. Billy is in his 50s.
Billy pulled into a slot at the Daylily Skilled Nursing facility and killed the engine. Picking at his lower lip he remained in the car, blankly staring out the windshield. God, he wished he had a cigarette right now, but he'd kicked the habit years ago. Eyeing the time on his watch, he sighed and pulled the keys from the ignition, opening the door. There was no getting around it. Going now was no better than going later.
Walking in, Billy smiled and signed in at the front desk. "Hello again Mr. Hargrove." The employee behind the desk greeted, "How've you been?" "It's Billy, remember?" he gently chided them as he rolled the title uncomfortably off his shoulders. "I'm fine. Where's the old man?" Billy asked, setting down the pen. The greeter checked their watch, "He might be in the day room. I think Cynthia was playing a few rounds of Gin Rummy with him not too long ago." Billy gave the desk a small pat and thanked them before heading off.
Walking into the large day room, Billy looked around. There were a handful of visitors. Children and grandbabies visiting. Residents were sitting with one another and having small conversations or playing cards or dominoes games. But he wasn't there. Billy sighed and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and continued off down the hallways toward the resident's rooms. 133... 135... 136. The sound of the television could be heard from the hallway and a rough voice calling out after it.
Coming to rest in the doorway, Billy breathed in, watching the scene before him. At the edge of his recliner, the old man shook his fist at the LED screen TV on the wall. "How the hell could you miss that pass! Are you blind?" The game on-screen was old, one even Billy couldn't remember, and his father had games on all the time. "Who's playing?" Billy asked with a casual, but sound wrap of his knuckles on the open door. The man looked over at Billy suspiciously before answering. "Raiders... Bengals. '74." As Billy entered further into the room, the man's expression softened. "Oh, it's you. Well c'mon..." He impatiently waved a hand at Billy, "Sit down before you miss it. Stabler's really handing it to 'em."
Billy sunk down into the overstuffed armchair next to this man. His eyes wandered over that wrinkled face, the peppered mustache waggling back and forth, the brightness still in his eyes. Neil Hargrove. Billy sat and stared. Wondered to himself how he could ever get this close to this man. How things had changed so drastically over the years between them. How really everything had changed. "What's the matter?" Neil asked in concern, catching his eyes. Billy looked away reflexively, "Nothing."
Neil looked past Billy's shoulder at the hallway, voices catching his attention. A teen boy was passing by, his grandmother on his arm as they happily chatted and disappeared from view. Neil sighed, his shoulders drooping as he sunk back into his recliner, a sour expression creeping onto his lips. "What's wrong?" Billy asked, noticing the change. Neil shrugged, "I dunno, I guess I was hoping my son would visit." His eyes flitted to the doorway, "Don't know why. He never visits. Too damn busy." A stone sunk in Billy's gut as he turned his gaze back on the television.
Neil smiled fondly, patting Billy's hand, "You're a good friend Frank. No one else comes to see me. Just you."
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Room & Board - Part 3 (Tabaeus x Reader)
Anon submitted this prompt:
For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?
Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next
x x x x
"Will you hurry up?" You hiss at Tabaeus. You've been trying to guide the vampire to the local superstore - avoiding bright lights or nosey looking folk - since the subway stop.
Tabaeus drags their feet, arms crossed and very obviously pouting. They're wearing a set of adult footie pajamas that, while oversized and baggy on you, strained to fit the vampire's height and bunches in places. Amusingly enough, the pajamas are bat pajamas with fabric sewn in between the arms and sides to act as wings. Tabaeus even has the hood up, so the overly-large ears waggle atop their head with their every step.
The get-up had been a party favor from one of your more quirky friends. They had wanted to 'relive childhood' with a sleepover, which included animal onesies for all the guests. A bit silly, but you were thankful for the happenstance now.
You had been a bit worried about drawing too much attention, but luckily there had been little to no one on the subway. Anyone who'd been there looked too exhausted to notice or care about anything awry.
However, Tabaeus was acting like a petulant child, scuffing their feet along the sidewalk in their worn shoes.
"If you don't hurry, the sun will rise and you'll be stuck out here in the pajamas," you warn as you turn on your heel and march down the street. You are so close to the All Mart doors, it's infuriating how long they're dragging this on!
But the threat seems to put a grudging hustle in Tabaeus's step and soon enough the both of you have crossed the threshold into the store. Air conditioning blasts over you, cooling the nervous sweat that has prickled at the back of your neck and arms. From the corner of your eye, you watch surprise color Tabaeus's features. Their red eyes darting from the lights on the high ceiling to the nearest merchandise, before scanning as much of the store was they could see.
The greeter at the front says a sleepy welcome, not even batting their eyes at Tabaeus's outfit. You try to ease the anxiety that's been swelling in your stomach since the subway. See? No one will say anything about a tall adult in bat pajamas and presumably wearing red contacts. They'll just think Tabaeus is a cutesy goth that doesn't care what others think. Relax, you tell yourself.
Once you and Tabaeus grab a cart and pass the greeter, you breathe a sigh of relief.
At the light sound, Tabaeus tilts their head at you. You ignore the discerning look in their red eyes as you move forward. Pitching their voice low as you lead them to the clothing department, they ask, "Were you worried?"
"A little bit," you admit, offering the vampire a weak smile and a one-shouldered shrug. Though the store was mostly empty, you kept your voice low. "This situation is weird, but I'd like to know more about you. Can't do that if you get carted away for experimentation or something."
An odd expression contorts Tabaeus's face. A mixture of discomfort and uncertainty as they seem to absently rub at their chest. A brief reminder of the scars - especially the autopsy scar - flickers in your head. You shake the thought away. There'd be time to delve deeper into Tabaeus's past later.
For now: clothes.
The two of you fall into silence as you peruse what All Mart has to offer. Thankfully, since the wet wintry-spring was nearing its end, and with summer fast approaching, warmer items were on clearance with lighter-weight options available as well.
Other than occasionally asking Tabaeus if they liked a certain pair of jeans or a tee-shirt - to which they'd reply with a yes or a long-winded no - the two of you didn't converse much.
As you traverse from department to department, you caught Tabaeus dawdling at the edge of the women's section. They seem intrigued by the selection of new summer dresses and crop tops on one of the inner racks.
Rolling the cart back toward them, you incline your head to them. "Do you like those?"
Conflict pinches at their expression, their lips pressed tight before they answer, "They seem... rather showy."
You were about to say something about Tabaeus sounding prudish, before remembering the most obvious issue vampires faced. The sun. Even if their other outfit was basically rags and a trench coat, at least it offered full coverage.
Eyeing the dresses - which ranged from maxi to mini - you consider the vampire's options. Even with the crop tops, there were ways to add cloth to keep them safe. "You could layer some of them."
"I do not know," they mumble, their fingers toying with the fabric of a particular maxi dress. The pattern of bright red-orange flowers with blue-green tropical leaves seems to have entranced Tabaeus's eye.
"Well, put some in the cart and you can decide in the fitting room." When Tabaeus still hesitates, you grasp the dress they've been staring at and put it into the cart. A startled expression crosses their features, their attention shifting from their fingers to you. With a lackadaisical wave to the other dresses and crop tops, you ask, "Anything else that catches your eye?"
Tabaeus stares at you for a long, long moment. Their red gaze shifting from your face to your neck to other parts of you. Heat crawls up the back of your neck, trying to ignore whatever unspoken implication the vampire may or may not be implying. The absurdity of the vampire in the bat pajamas is at least dowsing whatever heat is kindling inside you.
The warmth at your back dissipates as Tabaeus spins abruptly away. Quietly, you breathe a sigh of relief. Tabaeus busies themselves by choosing a few more items from the rack.
With a cartful of items, the two of you head to the fitting rooms. Thankfully, they are unmanned, given the time of night and lack of customers.
"I may need some assistance."
"Seriously?"
Tabaeus gives an embarrassed hum.
"What do you need help with?" You press, crossing your arms as you angle a critical look at them.
"I do not know where to start. It is overwhelming." Under the fabric of the bat hood, you can see their pointed ears droop. They reach out to fiddle with one of their choice bits of clothing, pinching the fabric between their forefinger and thumb. "I do not know what will look good."
As you continue to watch them critically, Tabaeus further droops under your gaze and mumbles, "I would also appreciate your presence. This is all new and strange to me."
At that, you relent a little. You still have no clue when Tabaeus last walked among humans. Did they even go to a department store before then? Or had they been holed up somewhere for centuries? Past shopping experiences were rather different, you supposed.
With a sigh, you glance around for any potential problems. There is literally no employee or other customer in sight. Gathering up an armful of clothes, you grab onto Tabaeus and duck into the fitting room. "Let's just start with whatever and see what works."
"Okay," Tabaeus gives a nod, closing the dressing room door behind them.
You quickly avert your gaze as they tug the zipper of the pajamas down. But you catch sight of their bare chest, their scars, the gentle slopes of their torso as the zipper slips further down. Vague memories of kneeling before them fluttered through your head.
"About what transpired, back at your home," they begin, after clearing their throat awkwardly.
You're dutifully training your eyes on the fitting room stall wall, back turned firmly to Tabaeus. Faded graffiti of a phone number sits at your eye-level and you pretend to try and decipher it as you weakly reply, "Hm?"
"I must apologize," Tabaeus says, their voice so soft it's almost lost among the shift of cloth. "Your fingertips were barely touching me. I wanted more, craved more. Especially after how you had clung to me during the feeding."
Hearing this, you wish Tabaeus would stop talking. Heat claws up your back and floods your cheeks, recalling just how close you two got at your apartment, with you taking their measurements. Your fingertips itch, remembering the faintest accidental caresses. And the more intentional touches. A small part of you was painfully curious how the rest of the evening would have transpired, had you not stopped yourself.
"It was not my intention, however I believe I manipulated... no, that's not quite right," Tabaeus pauses and you can sense their eyebrows furrow. It doesn't take long for the vampire to settle on a new word, "I think I enthralled you."
Enthrall. You vaguely remember hearing that term in regards to vampire media before. Though you never put much thought into what it meant. You supposed you just assumed it was another word for hypnotize, but after what transpired at your apartment, you’re not sure. Looking back, it did seem like an odd - if hormonal - trance had descended on you.
“I am very sorry.” Tabaeus continues to speak, completely unaware of your own internal considerations. Their words take on a harried tone and you can almost see Tabaeus fiddling with their own fingers in your mind’s eye as they babble, “As I said, I am not entirely sure of myself, my powers. I will try to keep better control.”
Quiet falls in the dressing room as your eyebrows furrow with thought. Once more, skepticism toddles through your head. How much could you genuinely trust Tabaeus, you wonder. Were they playing you? Or were they being sincere? You press your lips tightly together as the shifting of clothes resumes behind you.
“Thank you for letting me know. That might explain some things,” you reply once the shifting of clothing has seemed to subside. You feel Tabaeus’s attention on you, but you fight the urge to turn around, just in case they aren’t finished getting dressed. “Taking culpability and owning up helps, even if you didn’t mean to. You’re not alone in not being sure of this situation. I’m sure I’ll make my own mistakes with you, at some point, too.”
Another stretch of quiet. You think you hear Tabaeus fiddling with a piece of fabric. “You’re very kind.”
“I’d like to think I’m being sensible.” You smile at the wall, hoping the encouraging tone transmits through the air to Tabaeus. With a single clap of your hands, you straighten up a little. It’d be a lie not to admit to the simmering curiosity you had. “Now, have you put anything on yet?”
“Yes, but I don’t think- Oh!”
“What?” You wheel around, startled by Tabaeus’s shocked exclamation. A number of concerns bubble up in your head, all nonsensical and unlikely.
Tabaeus doesn’t turn to face you. Shock colors their face as they stare straight ahead. “The mirror!”
“What about the mirror?” You turn a scrutinizing eye to the silvery surface. Could they see something else in the mirror? Or maybe they could see beyond it? Was it a two-way mirror?
You’re just about to examine the mirror further when Tabaeus explains, “I can see myself!”
“That’s how mirrors work,” you reply gently.
Tabaeus shoots you a withering look and, under their red gaze, you realize why they’re so surprised.
They. Are. A. Vampire.
Just like the sun poses a problem, mirrors aren’t supposed to bear their reflection! You want to shake yourself, how easily you forget these main facets of vampire lore. Then again, it is rather late and you did just lose an amount of blood earlier. You give yourself a shake and embarrassedly mutter, “Oh, right.”
As you realize your transgression, Tabaeus returns their attention to their reflection. Faintly, you wonder if they even bothered to look at themselves in the mirror at your home. If they were so used to not appearing in mirrors, would they even have glanced at one? Evidently not, given their almost entranced expression now.
Did Tabaeus even show up in your mirror? Was there perhaps something different about the fitting room mirror?
“I do remember reading something about silver being used in mirrors,” you start to say, carefully piecing together a possible explanation. “Manufacturers started using something else in the 40s - aluminum, I think - so maybe that’s why?”
“That would explain it, I believe.” Their eyes trail over the reflection of their face, lingering on every detail. Tabaeus reaches out to touch the mirror, perhaps to see for themselves if they can do just that. You wonder how long it’s been since they last saw their own features. How much had changed? Or did they even recall what they used to look like?
“You can’t touch silver?” Despite the delight and surprise in the moment, another part of you is still trying to stack as much advantage in your favor as possible.
Tabaeus is still looking at the mirror as they quietly reply, “It burns me.”
“Good to know.” Tabaeus blinks at your reply, coming back to themself. Their hand falls from the mirror, their shoulders hunching a little in on themself. Grappling with the momentary guilt, you steer their attention to other matters. “So, um, the outfit? Do you like it?”
Redirecting your own attention, you focused on what the vampire had chosen as their first choices. They sport a chunky unbuttoned maroon sweater over a black crop top that showed the long expanse of Tabaeus’s abdomen. It seemed Tabaeus floundered over choices for bottoms, with a pair of jeans laying on the bench. In the end, they chose a high-waisted skirt that fell a little above their knees. Not protective in the sun, but you make a mental note to look for opaque stockings. Faintly, you wonder how much fabric is necessary to keep a vampire’s skin safe from the sun.
“Yes,” Tabaeus finally said after a few moments. They fidgeted with the hem of the skirt, toying with it between their long fingers as they looked to you, from the corner of their eyes. “Does it look good on me? Considering modern sensibilities?”
“Most people just wear what they like these days.” You give a shrug, turning to the discarded pajamas that had been carelessly heaped on the floor. “Honestly, I think you could probably make anything look good.”
“Truly?” There’s a vibration to their word that makes your ears turn red.
Clinging to nonchalance, you give a one-shouldered shrug before holding up the pajamas to your chest and grinning at the vampire, “Well, you made the bat pajamas look rather fetching, so-”
Tabaeus’s hiss interrupts your teasing. Their red eyes dart to the offending garment you’re folding, their nose wrinkling with evident distaste. “Vile.”
“Don’t be a drama queen,” you scoff, rolling your eyes though a smile lingers on your lips as you finish folding the pajamas. You figure Tabaeus will be more inclined to leave with someone new, rather than rewear the offending garment. “Well, try some more stuff on already.”
“So eager to get me naked,” they simper as they begin to slide off their sweater.
“I could just leave,” you reply as they begin to yank the crop top off.
“No!” Their frantic expression shoots to your face. Carefully, you keep your eyes trained on theirs, trying not to let your gaze dawdle down their bare chest or further. Tabaeus wrings the crop top in their hands as they mumble, “Please, stay.”
“That’s what I thought.” A teasing smile tilts at your lips as you sit yourself on the bench. Leaning forward, you rest your elbow on your knee, chin in your hand, and close your eyes. But not before you catch the relief that flutters through Tabaeus’s body.
“I do not mind if you see me naked.” Their mutter is shy, but certain.
You can’t stop how your smile grows, though you make sure to keep your eyes tightly shut. “Are you going to enthrall me in the All Mart dressing room?”
The words were mostly said in jest, but Tabaeus’s reaction betrays themself. Perhaps they didn’t even acknowledge their own intentions. Realizing themselves, you can hear Tabaeus’s shoulders scrunch to their ears in embarrassment. “Sorry.”
Quiet falls once more and you muse over their reaction. You can’t deny they seemed to have attached themselves to you, in some form. Between their remarks on your kindness and the ache in their choice when they spoke about your faintest touches, you’re beginning to wonder if Tabaeus is touch-starved, on top of everything else.
Or perhaps they’ve been denied kind touches, you think as the image of their scars dance through your thoughts.
Though it is tempting the universe, you crack an eye open. Thankfully, Tabaeus has slipped on a pair of jeans, which fit quite nicely to their frame. “You know, if you want me to touch you so bad, it doesn’t have to be… intense.”
They catch your one-eyed look in the mirror and you watch as their pointy teeth dig into their bottom lip. Tabaeus tries to divert their attention by grabbing a flannel button-up. You watch quietly as their fumbling fingers bungle with the buttons before getting to your feet and approaching them.
There’s a strain in their stance as you position yourself in front of them. Their hands fall to their sides, their eyes to the ceiling, as you button up the shirt for them. You think you hear the faintest, strangled whimper in their throat.
You’re not sure what prompts you to do so, but you gently take Tabaeus’s hands in yours. Their eyes jump to your face in shock, as your thumbs skirt over their knuckles.
“We can touch, platonically,” you explain, craning your neck to look up at them. At their confused expression, you further explain, “As friends.”
“Are we friends?” Tabaeus’s gaze falls to your hands, curled under their own. Their own fingers flex, wanting to tighten but afraid to be an imposition.
You give a contemplative hum, considering the arrangement between yourself and Tabaeus. Their exorbitant payments in exchange for your blood and shelter? The strange intimacy that had come from being drained that second time? The understanding the two of you will have to develop, considering their lack of knowledge of themselves and your ignorance of their kind?
“I think our circumstances make us more than roommates, at least,” you finally answer.
“I would greatly enjoy being considered your friend,” they whisper, stooping closer to you. You realize for the first time that Tabaeus has a particular scent. It was harder to tell, before their shower. The dirt and grime had overpowered it. Their scent is faint and powdery, with a tang that reminds you of something bittersweet and medicinal.
Tabaeus continues to slowly lean closer, their eyes half-hooded. In your chest, your heart thrums and there is a brief second where you consider letting Tabaeus closer. Something stops you, though. The intensity of their need, their own weakness, coupled with your own misgivings and worries about taking advantage of them.
Getting a grip on yourself, you raise a hand to Tabaeus’s lips, stopping any further lean. They blink, their gaze trailing from your hand to your eyes. “Firstly, in this day and age, friends don’t kiss.”
A disgruntled expression passes Tabaeus’s features as your hand drops away. “What?”
“Well, not on the lips.” You shrug, maneuvering away from the vampire. You busy yourself with the discarded outfit from earlier, folding them and putting them in a ‘keep’ pile. The mindless work doesn’t even have you listening to yourself, “Somewhere like the cheek is fine.”
“Oh,” Tabaeus says, obviously considering your words.
You realize what you’ve said and, in a split second, you intend to correct your faux pas. But it’s too late. Tabaeus leans over you once more, they graze their lips against your cheek as their fingers uncertainly down your opposite jawline. A slight tingle follows wherever they touch. The sensation sinks into your bones.
You blink as their lips leave your cheek, the air locked in your lungs and your eyes wide. Slowly, you realize the pants you had been folding are now crumpled against your chest.
As Tabaeus straightens from their stoop, they rub the back of their neck and shift their gaze from you. “I believe I am done with the clothes.”
“Alright,” you hear yourself say, though you haven’t quite caught up with your brain. Your hands have once again gone to folding, busying themselves in an automatic sort of way as your synapses try to recalibrate. “There’s a few more things we should pick up before we go.”
“Should I change back into…” Tabaeus makes a disgusted sound, but motions toward the bat pajamas.
An electric jolt jumps up your spine. The heat from their chaste kiss on your cheek hasn’t dwindle and even the tiniest inclination of being in that small room with a mostly nude Tabaeus makes your insides flutter.
“Nope!” With a quick shake of your head and a clearing of your throat, you reign in your decibel while ignoring Tabaeus’s odd look. “No, we’ll just pay for what you’re wearing now on the way out.”
Before the vampire can question your odd reactions, you gather up the remaining clothing - absently hoping Tabaeus will fit into all of it - and bolt from the fitting room. The additional space outside the dressing room makes you breathe a little easier. Too much heat had built up inside you, all from a simple fucking kiss on the cheek.
“We should get you some stockings and maybe a few other pairs of shoes,” you mumble, cutting off Tabaeus before his curious look can turn into a verbal question. Your purposeful stride takes the cart away from the dressing rooms. Tabaeus is given no other option than to pad along behind you, their curiosity and suspicion burning into your back.
With a steely resolve, you guide them through the rest of the trip with no further incidents.
Thankfully, for your heart.
#exophilia#exo writing#vampire#vampire x reader#monster lover#tabaeus#room and board#room & board#room and board part 3#room & board part 3#tabaeus x reader#trying to get back into writing#after the funeral and covid and stressing about the feral kittens#it's been a struggle#lol#so don't be afraid to tell me what you think of this chapter#be as mean as you want#;)#I did put Tabaeus in footie pajamas so I deserve any and all rage#lmao
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Nth Time’s a Charm
Summary: How many trips to the store does it take to decorate a tree?
▸ Pairing: Jimin x F!reader
▸ Rating / Genre / AU: PG-13 / fluff, humor
▸ Warnings: N/A
▸ Word Count: 1.3k
▸ A/N: This gift was created through @bangtansecretsanta and is for fellow Wings era enthusiast @jiminzfilter. Surprise~~!! I hope you enjoy, lovely!
Thank you to Cherry for beta’ing and banner-ing!
↔↔↔↔↔↔↔↔↔↔
In this world, there is nothing that brings you more displeasure than being outside in the cold. Yet here you are, trudging to the seasonal decor shop in 5 layers of clothing so heavy that it feels like you’re dragging yourself along in a suit of armor. Your mind is begging you to end this mission, but your heart has other ideas. It’s the day before Christmas Eve – you have to try just one more time.
You have to stop when you finally do arrive at your destination to catch your breath. Why were you breathing so hard? Get it together and don’t embarrass yourself this time! You close your eyes, inhale shakily, and release. As your breath steams away from you, you will your nerves to do the same.
A gust of heated air warms your face as you step through the automated sliding doors of the shop. When the entry bell dings, a store greeter hands you a shopping basket on queue and gives you their best customer service smile. “Oh! Nice to see you again. Welcome back!” It takes everything in you to ignore the mortification spreading across your cheeks and provide a salutation of your own before scurrying down the aisles to the ornament section, a path you know all too well.
This is the 4th time you’ve visited the shop this week and somewhere around the 20th time in the last month and a half since the storefront opened for the season. The same thing happens every time: you peruse the ornaments for a conspicuously long time, have an awkward chat with the associate who always comes by to help, then you buy only 1 bauble and leave. Needless to say, your flimsy excuse of “perfecting your Christmas tree” has been seen through by everyone on staff.
By now they probably have a nickname for you. Christmas Tree Courtney? Ornament Olive? Sketchy Sarah? Please, not Sketchy Sarah.
“Y/N! How’s the tree coming along?” And there it is. That angelic voice you’ve fallen in love with yanks you out of your panicked imaginings so you can panic in real life instead.
At the end of the aisle is the most stunning man you’ve ever seen with a cherubic face and gorgeous, cat-like eyes. His ash gray hair catches the twinkling of the fairy lights that line the shelves, giving him an almost ethereal glow. You’ve come to know this remarkable man in this unremarkable store as Jimin. What started as a harmless crush on him has turned into a (failing) mission to ask him out. For all of the times you’ve plucked up the courage to go see him, however, that grit flies out the window once he’s standing in front of you.
You remind yourself to pick your jaw up from the floor as he approaches. “H-Hey! It’s looking good, almost done.”
Jimin reaches your side and then turns to regard the wall of ornaments that you’re pretending to be interested in. “I should hope so,” he finally says after a pause. “This is our last day after all.”
Pause. “Last day?” Hopefully, that didn’t come out as stressed as you’re feeling right now.
“Well, yeah.” Jimin absently grabs a glittery star from the wall to watch it twinkle in his hand. “We’re closed tomorrow and on Christmas day. The store’s done for the season.”
Internally, your world has come to a screeching halt. Surely, things can’t end so uneventfully? You’ve journeyed here to see Jimin for weeks on end and for what? To chicken out every time and watch as the love of your life (you’re positive that he is) slips through your fingers? Your hopeful Christmas story is starting to look much more like a tale of the one that got away.
Unsure of what to say, you grab a bulb of your own, a shiny red one, and turn it in your hands. Jimin’s eyes catch yours in its reflection. He’s studying you as if he knows you’re hiding something from him.
Instead, he grants you mercy by continuing the conversation himself. “Are you sure that’s the one? This ornament, I mean.” He gestures to the one in your hand. “I thought you said this year’s theme was tan and green?”
Queue the worst fake laugh you’ve ever laughed. “No, you’re right. I don’t know where my head is today!” This is not a lie. “Let me just–”
You reach to hang the ornament back on its display, but Jimin gently intercepts your hand, slender fingers stealing the loop from yours. His smile is so beautiful that it hurts. “I’ve got it,” he says. “Here, I think I’ve got the perfect one for you.”
Jimin crowds you between himself and the ornament wall, reaching above you to grab one above your head. Your eyes catch a sliver of the plush of his stomach that’s exposed when his shirt rides up and though you’ll never admit it, your mind is instantly flooded with thoughts of sin. It’s so hot in here all of a sudden.
“Here!” Jimin once again pulls you back into the present, this time by gently bringing your hands together to form a cup. You accept your new position obediently as he places an oversized, almost-bronze bauble in your hands. “I think this could be the missing piece,” he grins proudly.
Everything about Jimin is so soft, so elegant, so overwhelming. No wonder you can only ever leave here with one item every time – how are you supposed to follow that up? It really will be a pretty addition to your Christmas tree even though it’s been “complete” for a while now. It’s just hard to focus on that when you’re having skin-to-skin contact with the most dazzling person you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Finally, you manage to show gratitude with words. “Actually, I think you’re right. Perfect recommendation as always, Jimin!” This is all too much. You need to get out of here before you say something stupid. There’ll be time to wallow in despair about your own cowardice later. “Thank you so, so much. And Merry Christmas!”
You can’t look him in the eyes as you say it, opting to glue your gaze to the bauble in your hands as you turn to leave.
“W-Wait! One more thing!”
Body reacting before mind, you spin on your heel to face Jimin one last time. He produces a slip of paper from his apron pocket and beckons you back over to him so he can place it in your coat pocket. When your eyebrow quirks up in confusion, he explains, “Open it after you leave.”
“Wha–”
“Hi, how can I help you?” Just as abruptly things began, they end with Jimin breezing past you to help another customer that’s wandered into the aisle. He’s absorbed in his Ornament Monitor duties – acting as if your interaction hadn’t happened.
It dawns on you that this is the last time you’ll see him. The moment for action has passed, you have to go home and never see this exquisite specimen of a man again. Your clothes suddenly feel like bricks as you make your way to the register up front to pay.
The same clerk that greeted you at the door squeals “finally!” when you check out, but you barely hear it. All that’s on your mind is missed opportunities with Jimin. You thank the clerk for their help robotically and head out the door to begin your walk of solitude back home.
The chill of reality hits your skin and you immediately shove your hands into your pockets. The paper Jimin left with you crinkles under your fingertips and urges you to inspect it now instead of in the warmth of your Jimin-less home.
Ignoring the frost biting at your hands, you unfurl the stationary as you stand on the sidewalk. In black pen is a phone number and beneath it, dainty handwriting: “Call me? :)”
Looks like you’ve got your Christmas miracle after all.
#bss2022#btshoneyhive#jimin#park jimin#jimin fic#park jimin fic#jimin x reader#reader x jimin#jimin fluff#park jimin fluff
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Last Lines Tag
Thank you to the wonderful @argisthebulwark for the tag! I'm also in-between about 4 WIPs at the moment so I'm going to pluck the best suited quotes from a variety of them.
Most fic writers I know on here have already been tagged, so I'm going to leave this as an open invitation - hop on this tag if you haven't had a chance yet!
A line from your fic that made you laugh (from Death and Glory)
Somehow Florentius made it to the dining table and collapsed onto a bench, folding his arms on the softly worn wood and dropping his aching head to their embrace.
“You look like shit.”
“You know, I always thought there must be some reason Breton hospitality was so famed across Tamriel.” Florentius lifted his head and tried and failed miserably to scowl at his greeter. Across the table Celann smiled, wry and exasperated and fond all at once.
A line from your fic that made you sad (from A New Home)
“You were only a child.” Ysolda couldn’t help it; looking at her sweet, kind, and bewildered wife all she could see was the stories she’d already heard of a young elf taught in everything from the way she’d been named, what she’d been permitted to eat, the restriction of her education and now to where she slept that she would never truly be valued as much as the children by blood.
Ysolda hadn’t even realised that tears were pricking at her eyes until Daefi was suddenly before her, looking more distressed than ever as she cupped her wife’s face in her gentle, scarred hands.
A line from your fic you're proud of (from Dear Revyn. The line where I felt I'd finally nailed Ryesandeii's voice and eventual motivation)
And so I am preparing myself to face this World-Eater. If all goes well he shall never return. Whether I shall is unclear to me. But I have run from my past and my fears for too long, and if there is even the slightest of chance that I may prevent the world from meeting a terrible end then even my meagre effort must suffice.
A line from your fic you think could've been better (from Dear Revyn - I think I actually cut this line from the published version. I wanted to show Ryesandeii not wanting Revyn to hold onto him if it was obvious he'd died, but it just ended up feeling too clunky)
I can do little more but apologise for my persistent cowardice, if no longer in an apparent heroic destiny than in relationships, that I never could summon these word whilst with you.
(...)
In all irony however if this declaration pleases you I beg you again to forget it, in the event it becomes evident I have lost my life, as no thing as petty as my ghost should make an obstacle to your wonderful life.
A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character (from Dear Ryesandeii. There's a reason I've installed a mod to make this fucker unessential.)
“What d’you think you’re doing, grey-skin?” Rolff Stone-Fist spat in his face, one fist grabbing the front of Revyn’s shirt while the other came down hard. White-hot pain exploded on Revyn’s cheekbone and stars popped in his vision. Like some sickly, twisted, drunken wolf Stone-Fist was snarling. “Ought to teach you a lesson you won’t forget…”
A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww' (from Death and Glory. This bit is actually a flashback, Isran doesn't realise he's been pining for years lmao)
The two sat in silence for a few more seconds before Florentius lowered his hands where they had been risen in prayer and smiled at Isran again, the sight taking his breath away more than the sunset ever could.
“And besides, isn’t it beautiful?”
Isran wasn’t looking at the sky. “Yes.”
A line from your fic that's full of symbolism (from Dear Ryesandeii)
It had been weeks since Revyn received the letter, and yet he still turned it over in his hands. The yellowing page was curling at the edges now and the ink softly smudging, wearing down with each press of the Dunmer’s fingers whenever it wasn’t kept in the inner pocket of his jacket, close to his heart. He opened it several times a day if not more, tracing his narrow fingers over the halting, spider-like lettering as if doing so could summon its author.
A line from your fic that contains an easter egg (from Death and Glory)
"Yes of course, and you are...?" Florentius trailed off, ensuring the smile stayed resolutely on his face as his gaze fell to the weapons at their sides. They were unlike any he'd seen before in Skyrim or Cyrodill, gleaming with a shimmer far more precious than steel or iron could achieve.
"The Silver Hand!" The soldier on the left declared. Beneath the helm he wore his face was still chubby with youth and his heavily-accented voice fierce with adrenaline. "We just attacked Jorvas-"
"We have just dealt a serious blow to the werewolf scourge in this land." The leader interrupted, cutting a stare like daggers towards his younger companion before looking back to Florentius. "And we intended to continue doing so. Did you see where that beast went?"
A line from your fic that's shocking (from Death and Glory.)
But you don’t care enough, do you?” His voice had fallen from uncontrolled fury to a horribly hollow edge Isran recognised with the numb realisation that he had gone too far. Again. “You just want everyone to be as paranoid, as scared, as isolated as you are, and you drive everyone who’s ever cared about you away. If you keep up this way you will die as alone and as friendless as you’re determined to live, and I certainly won’t come back to bury you.”
(Isran how much have you fucked up to the point a priest of Arkay refuses to bury you)
A line from your fic you want to talk about more (from Death and Glory)
"It all happened before I knew you." Florentius sighed. "It was... a long time ago, and it would be easy to blame it on that, say I was young, say I was scared. Whatever it was, I… I ran away. I shoved my connection to Arkay deep down in my mind, snuck out from the priory at night, stole a horse from my grandfather’s stables and I ran.”
Isran leant back, his mind reeling. "Why were you scared?" he ventured.
Florentius chuckled, the sound bitter and somewhat hollow but it was better than nothing. “Let’s see. I was thirteen years old with the god of death talking in my head, Isran, you take a guess. I suppose I was beginning to realise what it, what…all of this,” he gestured loosely around his head, “would mean for the rest of my life. For a life being close to death itself, being exposed to people at their most vulnerable and hurtful, being a target for those who see Arkay's realm as a challenge. For a life of being called a madman, amongst other things."
(ugh I could talk for hours at how fascinating Florentius is, and how it must have been for him to live with this connection to Arkay from a young age, knowing as he grew up that whatever gifts it brought him it would also create an irreversible distance from others.)
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