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teatoptony · 7 months

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For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

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bakugoyelling · 1 year

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We Can Take Things Slow

Aki Hayakawa x Fem! Reader

Warnings: (minors dni) 18+ smut, virgin! reader, fluff, fingering, praise

Word Count: 5.1 K

Summary: What started as a crush has bloomed into a full-on relationship, and for the first time in your life, you're ready to do more than kiss.

Out of all people, you would have never thought that he would be your boyfriend; the first time he came in, you had to force yourself to stop staring. You had only worked at the local grocery store for about six months, and while you had seen attractive people come in to shop before, you had never seen a man as handsome as him.

He was tall — with blue eyes and black hair, the dark tresses often tied atop his head. His topknot hairstyle actually made your lips quirk up into a smile the first time you saw him. The ponytail was just so small and, for lack of a better word, cute.

He didn’t go to your register that day, and although slightly disappointed, you were glad. Just looking his way made your heart rate speed up. Who knows how you would have embarrassed yourself if you had to talk to him.

The next time you saw him, he walked in with — what you assumed to be — his friends, a guy and a girl who appeared to be rather rambunctious, one rolling in on a shopping cart while the other tossed boxes of snack cakes into it. Or maybe, they’re roommates; you thought as they walked past, watching them head down the aisle as you scanned a carton of milk. You wondered if he liked milk.

He didn’t go to your register that time either — well, he almost did, but he pivoted this shopping cart at the last second and headed a lane over, even though your current customer had just checked out. He must really like waiting in line.

And every time after that, he did the same, always with that boisterous duo; he never went to you. It was such a regular occurrence you no longer felt nervous when he came in.

But at least you still got to admire him. Sure, he might be avoiding you, but he was still pretty. Handsome, just like the first time you ever saw him. Plus, there was no harm in looking at him, right? A girl’s allowed to have a crush.

Then one evening, he came in alone. Dressed in a short-sleeved button-down, he spent most of his time in the produce section, picking out fruits and vegetables before disappearing between the aisles, where you didn’t see him again until he emerged at the check-out line — your check-out line.

Placing his groceries on the conveyor belt, you stood in disbelief, the nerves you thought you had long forgotten returning.

“Hello,” with a nod, the man greeted you, his eyes looking into yours as your cheeks grew warm.

“Hi! Did you find everything okay today?”

Overly peppy, you continued, tapping a button on the cash register before you began scanning his items, trying your best to appear calm.

“I did,” he said.

For a second, your eyes met as you glanced up at him, nodding in approval as you kept scanning.

The silence that followed was awkward. Well, it was for you, at least. Time seemed to slow while you worked, and halfway through, attempting to ease the feeling, you commented on his choice of milk — your face filling with a heavy heat as soon as the phrase left your lips.

“Mmm, oat milk,”

You’re not sure what response you were expecting, but all he did was exhale an amused huff and nod at you, taking out his wallet as he prepared to pay.

Great, he totally thinks you’re weird now, you thought. The next time he comes in, he’ll definitely go back to avoiding you.

Plus, surely he’s already got a girlfriend, right? Now that you’ve seen him up close, it’s proven just how attractive he is. Maybe next time he’ll come in with her. Maybe, you’ll even get to see them kiss.

But that never happened because he didn’t have a girlfriend. He either came in with his two friends or alone. And while he didn’t always go to your line, he frequented it more often. Over time, you even got less nervous when he appeared, and your interactions grew less stiff. You even learned his name — Aki. The two syllables felt like a dream leaving your lips. Along the line, you even found out about his profession. He was a devil hunter. Not uncommon, but dangerous. You’d known people who had joined Public Safety before, and although things didn't usually end well for them, you had to stop yourself from thinking of all the terrible possibilities this could mean. At least, this explained the formal clothing he sometimes wore.

Even your coworkers started noticing that things were different. Every time Aki came in, they’d tease you, asking things like, “So, when’s the wedding?” and “Have you hooked up yet?” Their questions were lighthearted, but you refused to answer — it was fun talking about the man you admired, but they didn’t need to know everything.

That is until, months later, after a series of secret rendezvous, one of them had seen you and Aki outside of work — at a table for two at a local restaurant, where he asked for a taste of your food, and you giggled, leaning in with a pair of chopsticks to fed him. But the light kiss that followed was what really caught their attention.

So the next day, your closest work buddies threw a lunchroom celebration, where despite their playful banter, they made sure to share how happy they were for you. Your oldest friend, who’s twice your age, even mentioned that she “Could tell he was a sweet one” and “Always knew he had a crush on you,”

Her words were the highlight of your day.

Sometimes you still can’t believe you're really with him. The two of you are similar in some ways. But in a lot of ways, you aren’t. Aki smokes, and you don’t — but that’s good, he tells you. Aki enjoys drinking beer, but you’ve never liked the taste. So you sip on water most of the time. But that’s great too, he says. In fact, he should be more like you, he insists. Aki has been in a relationship before. He’s had sex — shared his naked body with someone other than himself — And you haven’t. Not even close. All you’ve done is kiss. But you haven’t told him that.

And while you shouldn't feel shame for such a thing, you do. Like when you go to his apartment and spend the night eating cereal together, honey-flavored grains swimming in oat milk.

“Hey, let’s do the crossword puzzle on the back,” you say, dipping your spoon in for another bite.

If this were a different cereal box, the game on the back would probably already be done. However, lucky for you, Power and Denji — Aki’s roommates that you met sometime back at the grocery store — keep their hands off his boxes of “grandpa food,”

Grabbing a pen, Aki hands it to you, looking on as you begin to fill out the small square boxes, lifting a finger every so often so he can point out an answer. And when the puzzle is complete — and your bowls are empty, he washes them as you get ready for bed, changing into your pajamas to wait for him in the bedroom.

Being alone with him in here makes your heart race sometimes. Although the only thing the two of you have done in here is kiss, you can’t help but think of what will happen when you tell him that's all you've ever done.

It’s only happened once before, but one time things got heated. Clearly more experienced than you, Aki's kisses grew fervent, his lips moving against yours with ease. Like the love interest in a romance movie, he moved with such seduction, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip as his hands grazed the skin beneath your shirt. Your body grew hot, and for a second, you thought of letting him undress you, but instead, you gently pulled away — kissing one last time before you left to get a cup of water.

The memory makes you feel bad in a way. You should have just told him then, explained to Aki how you didn’t push him away because of what he did, but instead because you’re a nervous virgin. Or maybe you should tell him tonight — get it over with and…

“Did you already brush your teeth?”

But his question breaks you from the idea, and as you shake your head in response, you decide, maybe next time. Besides, brushing your teeth is more important anyway.

Four weeks later, you find yourself facing the decision again.

Your relationship with Aki has even reached a new milestone — you’ve said you love him. And with the faintest blush, Aki has said he loves you too.

In fact, he said it just moments ago before you kissed him — before you straddled him on his bed and began tasting his tongue. Slowly getting comfortable, you’ve started taking the lead with things like this now. It’s fun and exciting, yet, the idea of going further still makes you nervous.

It’s not like you don’t want to go further. You do, but you’re scared. Afraid that once you tell Aki, things won’t be the same, the flame will fizzle out, and he’ll leave you. Or even worse, he’ll use you for sex, and that’ll be the end of it — a cherry-popping dream come true.

“Hey, you okay?”

Caught on to how you’ve stopped and pulled away, he questions you, studying your expression as you refuse to make eye contact.

“Aki…” you mutter his name in quiet guilt, shifting about as you decide to rip off the proverbial band-aid, your heart pounding in your chest as you timidly confess, “I’m a virgin,”

“Huh?” caught off guard, his brows pull together as you remove yourself from his lap, your eyes growing glossy as panic sets in. If he laughs right now, then it’s over.

“I’ve never done anything, okay?” you hush, wiping away at your cheek.

You'll tell everyone at work that he's a jerk.

But Aki doesn't laugh. He doesn't chuckle; he doesn't even smirk. Instead, Aki thinks. He acknowledges your reactions — figures this information must have been weighing down on you for a while, and from what he can tell, you must be worried right now. And while to him, it’s no big deal, to you, it is. So in respect of your feelings, he does what he can to comfort you.

“That’s okay,” he gently speaks. “That doesn't change how I see you,” Hoping he’s not making things worse, he continues.

“Did you think it would?”

Peering up through dampened lashes, you nod. It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s true. Before you got into a relationship with Aki, your lack of sex was never an issue — other than the fact that you’ve never been with another person, you did plenty of sexual exploring on your own. You’ve done things that not even your friends in two-year relationships had done, knew kinks by name, and even told them what kind of toys to bring into the bedroom. You know your body, and you know what you like. You’ve just never had anyone to share it with. Being vulnerable in such a way can be scary. And while no, you don’t have to say anything about it, you feel it’s best that you do.

“That’s why I wanted to tell you…before things went any further. I just need you to know. So, we can take things slow, okay?”

Shifting closer, Aki nods before wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug, holding the back of your head as you press yourself against him, the scent of soap heavy on his skin.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” he whispers. “I don’t mind taking things slow,”

In his arms, you continue to listen, his acceptance putting you at ease.

“We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. Until you want to, alright?

In response, you nod, silently agreeing before you pull back, peering up at Aki as you wipe your eyes.

“What if I only ever want to hold hands?” you mumble.

“Then we’ll only hold hands...and I’ll still love you,” smiling down, he assures you.

Aki only wants to make you happy, and although he can’t guarantee he'll never make you sad or worried, he can promise to never make you uncomfortable.

—

“So, got any plans for the weekend?” your coworker asks from beside you, adjusting a can of corn as you reorganize the shelves before closing time.

“Actually, I do,” you say, the lilt in your voice soft as you continue working. “Aki and I are going to a new gyoza restaurant tonight. It just opened up,”

“Ooh, a date, I see? And will you be feeding him again this time?”

You give your friend the side eye, and they chuckle, the memory of when they first saw you together causing you to laugh along.

“And what if I do? Are you gonna be there watching like last time,”

“Hey, I just happened to be there,” your friend holds their hands up in defense. “It’s not my fault I caught you kissing mister topknot,” they tease. “Besides, I’ve got my own boyfriend to feed tonight,”

“Oh yeah, how is your cat, by the way?” Humored by your joke, you smile, peering over at your friend as they shake their head with a chortle. The end of your shift flies by when the two of you are together, and before you know it, the grocery store is closed for the night.

Once back home, you call Aki to let him know. Telling him that after you shower and get ready, you’ll call him back so he can pick you up.

“Alright, see you soon then. Love you,”

“Love you too, bye,” his voice carries over before hanging up, the end of the call leaving you eager to be with him again.

An hour later, he’s knocking on your door, standing outside your apartment with joy in his eyes when you open up to greet him — two overnight bags in hand.

“You ready to go?” he asks, silently admiring your features.

“Yup,” you smile as he takes your bags for you. “I’m so ready to eat too. I’ve been dreaming of this gyoza all day!”

Heading to the car, he chuckles at your enthusiasm. It sounds like tonight he won’t be getting any of your leftovers. Guess he’ll just have to order extra.

—

Four plates of fried dumplings later, the two of you have had your fill, and with the bill paid, you head back to Aki’s apartment.

“Denji and Power are out, by the way.” he mentions while unlocking the door, “But they’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, so enjoy it while you can,”

“Hey, don’t be mean,” you giggle, “I like them,”

“Yeah, yeah…”

With the place so quiet, you and Aki fall into what feels like a sense of domestic bliss — the tv on in the background providing a bit of sound as you go about helping him rid his fridge of spoiled food. It’s something he does every weekend lest he discovers a container of leftovers growing mold.

After that, he puts a load of laundry into the wash while you make a cup of tea — the last time you came over, he had a flavor you had never tried. You thought it was good, so Aki made sure to get more.

The two of you even brush your teeth together, which is nice because the minty fresh flavor of it remains once you’ve settled in bed — your upper half pressing against his as you kiss. Over and over, until the short pecks turn into your tongue running across his bottom lip, teasing him before he opens up and accepts, his hands sliding down to rest on your waistband as you pull back to catch your breath.

“Aki,” his eyes watch your kiss-swollen lips whisper his name. The warmth of your fingers resting against his jaw as he lifts his gaze.

“Yeah?”

Suddenly aware that you’re on top of him, he removes his hands from your hips — the subtle movement is a sign that he’s being cautious, your comfort always at the forefront of his mind.

“You know, I still want to take things slow,” your heart rate speeds up as he keeps his eyes on you. “And I don’t think I’m ready to go all the way yet, but,”

Now Aki’s heart is racing. He’s almost positive that he knows what you’re going to say, and he’d be lying if he said the thought of pleasing you in any way doesn't get his body aching with desire.

“Can we try something?”

Your face blooms at the question, a sense of embarrassment washing over you as your boyfriend remains silent for a second, lips parting before he places his hands back on you and nods.

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

And while it’s difficult to ask your first real boyfriend to finger you, you do it. You probably sound like a total dork, you think, but Aki thinks you sound cute — delicate, endearing, but not the least bit innocent as you softly ask, “Will you fuck me with your fingers, please?”

The phrase sounds so vulgarly sweet; Aki has never wanted to satisfy someone's desires as much as he does yours. With your words repeating in his mind, he nods, keeping an eye on you as you move off him, settling beside him instead.

Shifting onto his side, Aki leans in to kiss you, interlocking your fingers with his as he pulls back to ask, “Are you sure about this?”

He knows you’re the one who brought it up, but he still feels the need to ask.

Your lips curve into a gentle smile as you shake your head in response, “I’m positive,” you assure him.

Aki nods once more, bringing your entwined hands up to his lips to kiss your knuckles, one by one, until he lets go and places his hand on your hip, stroking your soft skin as you peer up at him.

Caught on by his hesitance, you pull him in for a heated kiss, reassuring him even further of your request with the tracing of your tongue against his lips — the wet muscle flicking against his as you glide your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, breathing out a moan while his hand travels further down, dipping into the waistband of your shorts.

“Can I?” he mumbles, thumb tracing against the fabric.

Agreeing, you shift your hips beneath him, allowing his hand to go all the way in, your lips parting in a shaky breath as his digits slide across the front of your panties, stopping just above your clit.

You’re glad you wore such a thin pair tonight, the friction of the lacy material already feels so good, and with each light circle Aki presses against you, you can feel the fabric dampen, knowing that soon, his touch will feel even better.

As he teases you, Aki is sure to gauge your reactions. He pays attention to your movements, focusing on bringing you nothing but pleasure. And when your hips grow more fervent, when your legs spread open further, he experiments with a few words.

“Oh, you’re all nice and wet for me. Aren't you?”

His voice is so low it’s impossible to hold back the moan in your throat. No one has ever said such a thing to you. But Aki can tell you like it. The way your clit twitches is enough to indicate that.

“Will you let me see?” he asks.

You’ve never felt so needy before, eagerly nodding before he kisses your nose and leans away, settling on his knees so he can undress you. You haven't been this nervous in a while — but it's a giddy nervous, and each of Aki’s tender movements helps ease you. He’s slow, gentle, and careful of where he touches you as he kisses the swell of your knee, peering up at you while he glides his hands up your thighs. Everything he does is with your desire in mind.

The veins in his hands flex while he grabs your hips, testing the waters once more as his fingers hook onto the sides of your panties — waiting for your permission.

Aki’s hands have always been nice to you, and as you shake your head in approval, you get lost in the vision of them, admiring how they look in this intimate moment as he undresses you, his long fingers pulling down your shorts and underwear until your core is exposed.

Flustered, your knees pull together as you catch him staring, his blue eyes focused on your sex as he swallows, his lips parting while he softly speaks, “You’re absolutely perfect,”

Your breath hitches, and he kisses your thigh before adjusting himself, moving up the mattress until he’s lying beside you. This position will be more comfortable, he decides. He can please you without his gaze being too overbearing, and the closeness of your lips will make it easier to kiss as he touches you. He’s committed to making this experience a good one for you.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks, gliding a hand across your stomach.

Nodding, you lift the hem of your shirt, muttering out a quiet “yeah” as you pull it up to reveal your tits, your nipples pebbling from both the cool air and Aki’s stare. He silently curses at how good you are at teasing, leaning in to kiss you as his calloused hand moves up to knead the soft mounds of flesh. The stimulation has you moaning, bucking your hips into the air as his thumb and forefinger pinch the sensitive skin — the slickness between your thighs increasing by the second.

“Mm, Aki,” you mutter his name between kisses, your eyes heavy-lidded as you place your hand on his, guiding it down until it rests on your pelvis.

“I know, I know,” he hushes, “I want to touch you too, just gotta make sure it feels good for you,” he kisses your cheek and then finally; lets his fingers begin to explore.

They brush past the strip of pubic hair you shaved this afternoon, slowly making their way towards your pussy lips, where his fingers dip in to gather your slick as you spread your legs for him. Having Aki touch you like this feels like heaven, and you can feel the strings of your essence separating as you open up for him. His digits circles around your entrance a few times before trailing back up, stopping mid-stroke while he gently speaks, “Oh, you’ve got the cutest little clit I've ever seen,”

The sensitive nub throbs as he makes contact with it, a whine spilling from your throat while he languidly rubs it, his fingers returning to your slit before it becomes too much — if he had kept it up, you would have come in an instant, which isn't bad, but you enjoy the build-up.

Wetting his digits some more, Aki teases your entrance, kissing just below your ear as he quietly instructs you, “Just relax for me, okay?”

Nodding your head, you take a deep breath, staring down as he continues playing with your pussy, rubbing your slick folds up and down before slowly sliding his middle finger into you. The sensation has both of you gasping. Aki because you’re so tight and warm, and you because his fingers are so much bigger than yours. They’re thicker and longer, and as the discomfort melts he begins to move.

He sinks his digit all the way in before almost pulling out, repeating the movement a few times over as your half-lidded eyes grow wide, a breathy moan falling from your lips as you adjust to the feeling.

“You okay?” your boyfriend mumbles.

“Mmhm, your fingers are just…bigger than mine,”

Endeared with the comparison, he huffs out a laugh, kissing your lips while he sinks into you once again, swallowing your mewls of pleasure as he curls his finger this time, pressing against the swelled tissue of your g-spot. It’s like discovering the area for the first time all over again, and your brows pull together as your hips buck against his hand, your legs spreading further as you grab at your tits.

“That feel good?” Aki’s voice remains low, the sticky clicks of your cunt mixing in with the sound while you earnestly nod.

“Yeah…” you whimper, slack-jawed as you whimper on.“Yeah…I want more,” you plead, your lust-filled gaze meeting his while you desperately shift your hips.

You may not know it. You may not even be trying, but through each passing second, through each soft phrase, Aki grows more and more captivated in pleasing you — and knowing that he’ll soon be the reason behind your erotic gratification; has him happy to oblige.

He pumps his middle finger into you a few more times before he pulls it out, tracing along your clenching little pussy while he eases it back into you, his ring finger joining in this time as you breathlessly curse. His digits are so much thicker than yours, longer too. You think this feels good when you do it yourself, but having Aki finger you feels even better. Unrestricted as to how far your wrist can twist, this new angle allows you to feel things deeper, granting you a new level of satisfaction you could never give yourself.

When he feels your walls relax again, Aki begins building the movement of his fingers, pumping the two digits at a steadying pace as he kisses you, trailing his lips down your neck and across your chest. Grazing your nipple, his tongue laps at the bud as he curves his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot. In search of repetition, your hips jolt into his touch, your cunt clamping down as Aki adjusts himself, “Gonna go a little faster now, alright?” he says, sliding his body further down for better reach. Slick with arousal, you’re taken aback by how easily he’s able to speed up his digits, your head thrown back in a heady groan as your pleasure elevates to another height, the sticky sounds of your cunt growing as Aki works his wrist, his palm brushing against your clit every so often.

Cute and high-pitched, your whines are intoxicating to him, swallowing them up between kisses while his fingers stroke your walls.

Your heavy lids make it difficult to keep your eyes open, but even in your lust-filled daze, you make it a priority to drop your chin and take a peek, to watch as your boyfriend fucks you with his fingers. So wet from your pussy, his hand glistens before you, your face flooding with warmth as you whimper his name, “Ah-Aki, Aki,”

You’re close; you can feel it — building up with every thrust of his fingers — with every graze of his heavy palm against your clit. Your skin is heating up, and your hips are jerking, grinding against him in search of more. Just a bit more of that pressure, and you’ll be falling past the edge.

Observant, Aki catches the way your swollen bud twitches and quickens his pace, rapidly pumping his fingers as you clench around him, the sloppy sound mixing in with your cries of ecstasy as he pushes all the way in, his palm grazing your clit as his fingers curl into the spot that has you keening. Repeating the motion, he watches your brows pull together as you shift your stare, meeting his gaze before he presses his forehead against yours. The fading mint of his breath fanning across your lips while he whispers, “You gonna cum for me?”

Your breath hitches as he pushes the heel of his hand towards you, the calloused skin rubbing against your sensitive nub while you press your knees together, trapping his hand in place while your brows crease, urgently nodding your head in admission.

“Yeah?” Aki gives his own little nod while continuing to work his fingers, hitting the spongy spot in the back of your cunt as you struggle to speak.

“Y-yes, yes fuck, please, ohh –” your words cut off into a drawn-out sob, your stomach clenching as you squeeze your thighs together, your body twitching while you dissolve into pleasure with Aki for the very first time — the reality of it all making your walls tighten around his digits even harder, soaking them in your essence as he works you through orgasm.

The sensation has Aki’s mouth falling open, feeling your pussy squeeze his fingers as you curve into his touch, keening through the incredible high while you melt into him. Your shattered breaths catch on the tip of his tongue as he kisses you, tangling his wet muscle with yours — swallowing the moans that escape you.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Aki whispers against your lips as your clit throbs, his palm pushing down on the swollen nub, causing you to twitch in place while your climax begins to fade. As you relax, his fingers slow their pace, your body slumping into his as your heavy breaths grow steady, your half-lidded eyes catching sight of his digits pulling out of you.

You sigh as they leave you, your cunt squeezing around nothing as you hear your boyfriend mutter out a quiet “Fuck…” — Enamored with how you leak for him, how you’ve coated his thick digits in the creamy white of your pussy. How you’ve allowed him to share such an experience with you.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he says as you lie back. The endearment has you lazily smiling, his lips pressing against the damp skin of your forehead.

“So perfect,” he repeats between kisses, tilting your chin to peck your lips.

A dreamy haze surrounds him as he stares down at you — your lower half still exposed as you peer into those beautiful cerulean eyes of his, thoughtlessly murmuring out loud, “So, do I have to give you a handjob now?”

The enchanting clouds dissipate as you realize what you've said, the apples of your cheeks growing warm as Aki's face goes blank — a tinge of regret traveling down your spine for even asking the question.

“Well, do you want to?” He calmly replies as you continue to look up at him, searching his gaze while you swallow the words caught in your throat. As much as you desire Aki — as much as you want to have him fall apart because of you; you’re not ready. At least, not tonight.

Prepared to see disappointment spread across his features, you silently shake your head, declining with a nodded no. But to your relief, Aki responds with an affirming smile.

“Then no, you don’t have to,” he says, “We can save that for some other time,”

“Are you sure?”

Kissing the top of your head, he nods, pulling back to assure you once again, “I’m positive,” he replies.

Not until you're ready.

— please do not modify or repost my work

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A/N: Aki is so boyfriend :') he's got such nice hands too Heheh, thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, let me know! Kind comments are always appreciated ♡♡♡

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

#aki hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #aki hayakawa smut #csm smut #aki x reader #☁️csm #💗aki #🌹spicy stuff #m.writes #mp

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cassandraclare · 21 days

Text

A bit of publishing stuff (if you get my newsletter you've already seen this)

So by now you lovely people have all seen the announcement about what books I have coming up next. Ragpicker King is coming March 4, 2025, and The Last King of Faerie is coming early 2026.

I know a lot of you were hoping for LKOF to come earlier. It’s going to be a big gap between the last Shadowhunter book and the next — three years. Previously the longest gap between Shadowhunter books was two years, between Mortal Instruments and the Dark Artifices.

I announced last year that I was taking time off — six months. It was the first time I’d taken any real time off since 2005. The pandemic had just happened and I was wiped out physically and mentally. I also needed to take stock of where I was in my publishing journey and really think about what I wanted — it had been years since I’d had time to consider whether I was happy, because I always had another deadline and that was always more important.

When I came to the end of The Last Hours, I was “out of contract” — meaning I didn’t have any further Shadowhunter books that were owned by or owed to a publisher. it was the first time that had happened since, again, 2005. Being out of contract is your one chance to change anything you want to change about your career, and I knew I was going to leave my longtime US publisher of the Shadowhunter books and move to Random House, who published Sword Catcher.

This isn’t a small decision for any writer to make. It sometimes happens when a writer has been at a publisher for a very long time that the nature of the publisher changes. Maybe all the people you worked with when you first came to that publisher have gone elsewhere, so your team has inherited you rather than having chosen you. Maybe your publisher has been sold to another company whose vision for that publisher doesn’t fit with yours. Maybe your publisher isn’t interested in your genre anymore.

I spent a lot of time agonizing over the decision—I certainly could have stayed where I was, but I knew that was no longer the best decision for the books. So those of you who pay attention to these kinds of details will note that where the other Shadowhunter books have all been published by McElderry Books, these next ones will be published by Knopf. (Who are an amazing imprint. They make great books.)

Normally a writer wouldn’t really address switching publishers — it happens a lot, and most readers don’t care who publishes a book. I’m talking about it now because I know there will be a lot of people who are angry and don’t understand why Ragpicker King is coming out before Last King of Faerie. The short answer is: Ragpicker King has been under contract since it was sold along with Sword Catcher, years ago now, and I’m obligated to get it done when I said I was going to. The books of The Wicked Powers are only just now securely under contract enough to be announced, as you just saw! So Ragpicker King is planned to be turned in in a couple of months, and after that I will be able to focus entirely on The Last King of Faerie (which I already began, but since it was only sold to Knopf last October, I was only able to get started after that).

And it takes a a year at least to write a book and another good year or so to publish it, and that gets us to the pub dates we’ve got. I would love if I could get it to you earlier, but multiple factors have brought us to this point, and in the end, not rushing through them is the best thing for the books, and will produce the best version of those books. I always want to get you my best work — that’s what is important to me above all things.

In terms of other publishers in other countries — I’m staying with all my longterm Shadowhunter publishers. Nothing’s going to change for y’all — Walker Books is still publishing Shadowhunters in the UK, even though a different publisher is going to publish In Fire Foretold there (due to spiciness.) ;)

For those of you who backed the Kickstarter, that will mean you do get new Shadowhunter content between now and early 2026* — which was part of the reason I did it! I’m also talking to my new publisher about bringing Better in Black out — with at least a six month gap for the Kickstarter backers to have it to themselves — so fingers crossed. There’s also Black Volume of the Dead, the final Eldest Curses book, which is still planned and which I am still excited to write, but since it is set after Last King of Faerie, it hasn’t been scheduled yet. More news on that as it develops—for now, I wanted to talk directly about the schedule in the next couple of years, since I feel confident it is set and will reliably happen this way, something I can’t yet say about 2027 and beyond. The point is, I’m really excited to bring you Wicked Powers just as soon as it is ready, and I know enough about it to say it’s going to be quite a ride!

And also an early look at In Fire Foretold.

#shadowhunters #the wicked powers

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saey707 · 6 months

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I SEE YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN "HEARTSTEEL" I LOVE THEIR INTERACTIONS ON TWITTER AND EVERYTHING (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA) It's cool, just cool :') Well, the point is... could you do a Yone x fangirl!reader? (I've been thinking about an anonymous online friendship and then a BIG surprise when they just meet face to face) Anyway, have a good day <3 -🍄

✿ Prompt: You have a chance encounter with Yone ✿

♡ champion focus: yone ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: YES HELLOOO! ૮₍´｡ᵔ ꈊ ᵔ｡`₎ა Thanks so much for requesting! I tried my best to get the premise of your idea in, but I did make some changes to improve the flow of the short and make it more authentic! Hope you enjoy! ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡

You and Yone met through an online board long before he went off the grid- hell, you met long before Yone even became legendary!

While it wasn't the conventional way to meet someone, you couldn't help but become fascinated by him and all the discussions he participated in. It's not every day you meet a (kind) man so invested in the history of Japanese warriors, DJ'ing, cold brew, and meditating!

You've never met Yone in person, but you figured from his messages alone he was either an old man or a kind soul... Even both. Every email Yone sent you was well punctuated and wise. He always knew exactly what to say, to an extent where you didn't know if he was just researching everything he was telling you or was telling you something based on his life experiences!

The day Yone sent a photo to you was the day you were convinced he was an old man now. It was clear that the photo was printed when he took a picture of it. His long, black hair was neatly kept, and he stood tall and sharp in a suit... Not to mention, there were orbs on the edge of the photo, and his eyes were as red as a demon!

You knew, eventually, your anonymous pen pal would stop replying one day, but it still hurt all the same. For years, you wondered if Yone was okay. You wondered where he was now, what amazing things he was doing. You wondered if one day he would ever email you back again... You wondered if he was dead.

"Hey, Warrior! I know it's been a few years since we last spoke. I know you won't respond, and I don't carry any grudges against you for it. I just can't help but wonder: How have you been? Were you ever able to get that red motorcycle you wanted? Are you still DJ'ing?"

That was the first email in years you sent to him... And you couldn't help but find some comfort in having a one-sided conversation. In a way, it felt like it healed the past few years you were left wondering and waiting.

"Hi, Warrior! You won't believe what happened yesterday: I finally got myself to meditate for 30 minutes straight! I'm still not sure how you can do it for an hour, but maybe someday I can get just as good as you. Hope you respond soon. I miss you!"

It became a regular habit for you to email him, even knowing you would never get a response. But maybe someday he'll be able to see what's going on in your life. Maybe someday, he'll open up his emails and respond to you... It's just wishful thinking.

"Have you seen the new band going viral? They're called Heartsteel! Their producer has the same name as you and even rides a red motorcycle in the music video! Isn't that cool? I know it isn't you, but at the very least I can imagine that it is you. I can imagine it's you out there doing great things with great people. And maybe it makes sense to me now why you won't respond. But just know I'm proud of you. No matter what you're doing out there. I'll email you again in a few days. Bye, Yone."

You sent the email, shutting your laptop now.

Waiting in line for a cold brew, it came as a surprise to you when you saw a man in front of you looking down at his phone, not even realizing that the line had already cut down to his turn to order.

You waited a few seconds... Then another. Then another.

Soon enough, you were annoyed. "Uhh, hey?! It's your turn to order..!" You tapped the man's shoulder, watching as he turned his head to you, confused as he shook himself from the alternate dimension his head was just in.

Your eyes widened as you stared at him for a moment, taking in the intricate details of his face. You recognized the sharp look in his eyes. You were familiar with the shape of his jawline. From the moment you got a good look at him, you knew it was him.

And while it seemed as if he didn't recognize you, the moment you spoke, his eyes lit up. It was you.

"Warrior?"

"Deer..."

#saeybaewrites #request #short #heartsteel #heartsteel yone #yone #heartsteel yone x reader #heartsteel x reader #yone lol #x reader #yone lol x reader #yone league of legends #lol x reader #yone league of legends x reader #league of legends x reader

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the-ace-with-spades · 10 months

Text

Unhinged buddie fic idea again -- Tia Pepa starts setting up Eddie on dates but with a bit of an AU twist.

Tia Pepa starts setting Eddie up on dates. Which Buck is fine with. Obviously. Why wouldn't he be? Eddie is his best friend, he wants him to be happy. He's also straight and maybe Buck liked having him all to himself but realistically, that couldn't last forever.

Whatever. He can get over it. Or he can at least pretend he got over it.

So Eddie is complaining at the firehouse about another set-up date and Buck tries to be positive and encouraging and says something about how Eddie could at least give them a chance - even if every word is said through gritted teeth.

And Eddie is appalled and says something along the lines of, "Maybe my tia should be setting you up, if you're so open to the idea." And everyone from the team claws at the idea, teasing Buck about being single and wanting to marry into the Diaz family through Eddie's cousin or something (which, a bit too close to the truth, ha).

Eddie finds the idea so hilarious that he tells Pepa about it. And regrets it not a minute later when she says, "Why not? I could set your Buck up with someone nice."

This actually makes Eddie grit his teeth, there's just something that makes him itch, even just thinking about Buck going out with any of the women Eddie went out with---Just no.

What he doesn't know is, Tia Pepa goes over his head on this --- just calls Buck (because of course she has his number, he's family and Eddie's and Chris's emergency contact). She sweet-talks Buck into it over the phone, telling him how Eddie told her about how he's single and how she knows just the right person for Buck and it'll be nice to keep Buck close in the family if it works out.

Obviously, Buck is skeptical --- there's just one Diaz he wants to be with and he's unavailable --- but then Pepa keeps on going how she knows just his type and how he's not going to regret it and just one date never harmed anyone and, well, Buck caves in because he's weak against most Diazes it seems.

He doesn't tell anyone about it. Not even Eddie. It's probably just going to be one date that he'll ruin like he always does and the girl will tell Pepa all about it and then Pepa won't even bother to set up another poor girl with him.

He gets a text with the place and time, a small hole-in-the-wall place that's just about Buck's thing, and an ominous message with Addy will wait for you there, look out for a red bandana.

And Buck is expecting some cute girl in dungarees and with a bandana holding up her hair but when he enters the place, it's almost dead and there's just some elderly couple, a group of teens, and a guy. A guy in jeans, a white t-shirt, sunglasses, and with a red bandana tied around his neck.

Turns out Addy is short for Adam, not Adelina or Adriana like Buck thought.

Adam is also gorgeous. Dark hair, chocolate eyes, tan skin, fit and strong. Addy has a six-year-old daughter, is no longer in contact with his ex-husband, works as a nurse in the ER, loves quiet indie places, and would love to travel the world every chance he has.

When after the date --- which goes on for so long the cafe's owner has to ask them to leave because they're closing --- Buck calls Pepa to tell her how it went and when can't really make his mouth produce words, she just tells him, "I told you I know your type, mijo."

Needless to say, Eddie finds out about that fast because Addy is his cousin and texts him for ideas for a second date with 'his friend Buck.'

His brain resets. Then restarts. Then resets again.

He did not know that about Buck. He would've known that about Buck.

He's calling his tia before he knows it and demanding answers.

Eddie, well, Eddie is fuming inside but Buck seems happy and Addy seems happy and they're both good guys so he shuts up whatever unreasonable, surprising anger he's boiling with and helps Addy prepare a date --- tells him about the water show in the aquarium he was planning on taking Buck and Chris to.

But the day of the show comes and Buck isn't answering his texts and he's just walking in circles around the kitchen table and before he realizes what he's doing, he's packing Chris into the car and, "Oh, look at that, what a coincident we're meeting you here."

He feels like an absolute madman when Addy tells him, when Buck and Chris are distracted by colorful fish, "If you didn't want me to date him, you could have just said so."

And a couple of days later both Pepa and Buck are at Eddie's for dinner and he feels like an absolute asshole when Pepa tells Buck Addy doesn't want another date. For about five minutes, that is, because after that Pepa looks Eddie straight in the eyes, he swears, and says brightly, "Don't worry, I know plenty of young single men that are just your type, Evanito."

The history repeats, obviously, and Eddie uses Chris to just 'run' into Buck on his date with another of his cousins. At some point, his cousins probably start to warn each other about it because they stop talking to Eddie about Buck's favorite activities and foods.

But they tell Buck the date places. And Buck tells at least one person on the team, always, and Eddie might be a madman but he's a madman on a mission so he always tricks the info out of someone -- Chim is usually the easiest and Hen won't admit but she likes to gossip about people's love lives. He even manages to trick Bobby into telling him where Buck is on his next date under the disguise of concerned 'Buck sure is going on a lot of dates lately,' etc. and Bobby actually falls for it and Eddie feels guilty about it until he hears Buck is going on a date with his godawful cousin Marco.

(Meanwhile, every time Buck 'runs' into Eddie on a date, he's cursing the universe and its stupid, obvious signs... Like, he knows he's in love with Eddie, the universe can shut up and stop screaming at him.)

Eddie is at Pepa's again and she comes back from where she was talking to someone on the terrace and silently sits down opposite Eddie with that look and says, "So, that was Marco."

"Yes, exactly. Marco. How could you set him up with Marco of all people?"

"Well, I'm running out of candidates because someone keeps on scaring them off."

Eddie doesn't look her in the eyes. He's truly become a madman since the whole thing started happening but like hell he'll admit it.

"You know, Eddie, if you don't want Buck to date any of your cousins, there's an easy solution that will solve this dilemma and will let us keep Buck in the family."

"Pepa---"

"Tell you what, I'll set one more date for him, tomorrow at seven at that ice cream sandwich truck Chris likes," she says, raising her eyebrows pointedly. "You decide if his date stands him up or not."

He never ever again wants to see Buck going out with any of his cousins.

Which doesn't mean he isn't a coward. He doesn't tell Buck. He tries to leave the house three times, changes his clothes about six times, and by the end of it, he's late.

Buck is easy to find between people, towering over most.

Buck smiles when he sees him but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Let me guess, he decided it wasn't worth it and backed out last minute," he sighs. "And Tia Pepa sent me a personal cheer squad to humor me up and pay for my ice cream."

"No, he's here," Eddie says because the it's me doesn't want to leave his mouth.

"Oh," Buck says, and his shoulders don't look so slumpy anymore but he still doesn't look, well, happy. "Where is he then?"

Eddie makes an elaborate wave with his arm and deadpans, "Ta-da."

There's a moment when those big baby blues blink at Eddie dumbly and Eddie swears Buck stops breathing for a few seconds before finally managing to push out, "Oh."

#chris is a willing participant in this I believe #originally this was supposed to be pepa setting buck with one of eddie's sisters btw and eddie being jealous as hell #buddie #911 fox #911 abc #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #pepa diaz #she's the MVP here really #fic ideas I'll never write #its free real estate people take it away and do whatever you want with it #fic ideas #op #charlie writes

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thelaurenshippen · 6 months

Text

finally taking the time to read through the SAG agreement summary and oof, I hope they have an AI town hall soon because...well, there are things to discuss!

so, in case folks are curious, here are my immediate takeaways from the deal as a SAG actor, a SAG producer, and person who is not any kind of expert but spends a lot of time being skeptical of contracts I sign. this is a summation/commentary, not a holistic breakdown of every point, nor even an in-depth discussion of the points I do talk about. and it is, of course, in no way legal advice or voting advice.

this post is already maybe the longest post I've ever written on tumblr (lol) and I feel like I've barely scratched the surface. to be clear, nothing I'm saying here represents how I'm going to vote, how I think other actors should vote, or my be-all-end-all stance on a particular issue. this is me reading through, flagging what concerns me, and asking myself questions. and I'm here to take your questions too! though of course my expertise is limited.

(what?? something I wrote got annoying long?? in my tumblr? it's more likely, etc. huge write-up after the cut)

the good

self-tape stuff: this is one of the more niche/the thing that the general public will find least interesting, but they've put in a lot of provisions to make sure self-tape auditions have limits (# of pages, no stunts, no nudity, doesn't have to be professionally shot, etc.) which is amazing because these types of auditions have gotten out of control since the pandemic. this feels like a great gain

data transparency: in no world did I think the streamers were ever going to agree to any data sharing with either the wga or sag so even though the data is limited, this still feels huge to me.

folks who sing and dance will be paid for both of those things now, which is great

they've added MLK day and Juneteenth as holidays (about time)

a performer cannot be required to translate their own lines

principal performers are required to be given hair and makeup consultation or reimbursed for obtaining their own services - this seems like a small thing, but it's being put in here pretty much entirely because HMU services have generally been appalling when it comes to textured hair/a variety of skin tones. there's also stuff in here about working to hire more diverse HMU artists

it looks like it's going to be easier/provide a path for folks getting IMDb credits even if they're not credited on screen

miscellany: there's a bunch of gains in wage increases, P&H increases, relocation fees, franchise language etc. that all seem good to me, though my limited knowledge on those subjects prevents me from going in depth on them.

this is not important, but it tickled me, there's a term to replace all instances of "telegraph" in the contract with "email & text" which like...why has it taken us thirty years to do that lol.

the "...hm..."

intimacy coordinators: oof. when I watched the press conference SAG gave, I was fucking thrilled when they said that the new agreement required folks to hire intimacy coordinators for nudity and simulated sex scenes. that was almost reason enough for me to vote for it tbh - not requiring it is the exact reason I voted no on our last contract. however, reading the contract summary now, the exact language is: "Producer must use best efforts to engage an Intimacy Coordinator for scenes involving nudity or simulated sex and will consider in good faith any request by a performer to engage an Intimacy Coordinator for other scenes. Producer shall not retaliate against a performer for requesting an Intimacy Coordinator." this....sucks. "best efforts" and "good faith" are not the same as "required". IMO, an intimacy coordinator is the same thing as having a stunt coordinator or, like, any number of health and safety requirements. OSHA doesn't say you must "in good faith" put your "best effort" to providing fire exits. it's great that performers can request coordinators for any kind of scene, and this is still the strongest language we've ever had in a contract but....c'mon guys.

residuals: look, I can't speak to these new terms in any concrete way. there are increases, there are bonuses for streaming success, there's a whole thing about a fund regarding those successes that I need explained to me more in depth, but overall, it looks like we made some in-roads here. as someone who employs actors under digital distribution contracts that has no residuals (podcasts), I know how genuinely cumbersome the unholy trifecta of "views-success-profit" can be (as in views do not equal success, success does not equal profit, etc.). I also have no sympathy when the majority of companies dealing with that cumbersome trifecta are massive media conglomerates. anyway, long story short, idk if this is good enough, I'm hoping to attend the next info meeting sag has.

the bad

the new hair/makeup provisions are explicitly for principal actors. while I hope it leads to better, more inclusive HMU services all around I haaaate that this implies supporting or background actors (who oftentimes also have to sit in HMU) don't deserve the consideration. (then again, background actors are usually required to do their own HMU/bring their own costumes, but for productions where that's not the case, the same HMU provisions should apply IMO)

as with every contract, there's language that could be stronger, clarity that needs to exist, and important things missing - but this isn't the final contract and I'm not a lawyer, so I'm gonna leave that stuff to the experts.

but, "lauren", you say, "what about all the AI stuff? where does that go?" well, reader, I was planning on including that in the above but it's the hot-button issue right now and I think it's wickedly complicated, so I wanted to break it down separately, after I had a chance to point out all the good-bad-in-between stuff that's not getting talked about.

a note: in my career, I've learned there's two big things to keep in mind when reading a contract you might sign:

what is the worst case interpretation of this language (thank you to my lawyer, prince among men, for teaching me how to do this in practice (that said, anything I say here is not legal advice, he'd also want me to say that lol))

what are you willing to lose/compromise on/what are the limits of your pragmatism? contracts are not about a company giving you everything you want out of the goodness of their heart - it is always a compromise. pragmatism has to be a part of the equation.

so, with that said, I'm going to play a little devil's advocate here, and a) try to find the good/the pragmatic and b) catastrophize the worst case scenario. but first, it might be handy to look at this SAG infographic for some basic definitions. let's go.

the AI good

a ton of stuff here requires consent. that is not a small thing, and the consent continues even after your death (whether it was a yes or no; though this can be complicated by your estate/your union)

the language does establish that the consent must be a separate signing from the employment contract, even if its in the contract, which is great (but more on that below - timing matters)

actors often do get paid for use of their digital replicas, though it's different based on the use/type of replica.

the actor must be provided with a "reasonably specific description of the intended use". this language is vaguer than I would like, because it allows producers to decide what "reasonably specific" and "intended" means - there's always going to be some vagueness when it comes to this specific thing, but a good start would be for producers to require not blanket consent, but conditional consent for each significant use of digital replicas.

if the replicas are being used in other mediums, that must also be consented to, thank god.

replicas cannot be used in place of background actor counts on a given day - if I'm understanding this correctly, this means a production can't just have a bunch of fake background actors by themselves, they have to engage real people up to a certain number first (which in this new contract is 25 for TV and 85 for movies). we're already filling in background with digital people or copy-pasting of the same crowd over and over and have been doing so since at least the late 90s, so it's good we're continuing to put up boundaries around that.

the AI "...hm..."

it's unclear (to me) when an actor can be asked to consent. IMO, everything is meaningless if the consent is happening as part of regular contract negotiations. these things have to happen when - and only when - the actor has already been engaged in a role and feels empowered to say no

the use of independently created replicas (replicas pulled from existing footage, not created by the actor) being allowed without consent under first amendment reasoning - this is obviously concerning a lot of people bc first amendment arguments are so broad. that said, there's a pragmatism part of me that understands this is already happening/has been happening for a while and used in ways I think are perfectly fine - I was just watching the new episode of For All Mankind (one of the best TV shows right now!) and it's an alternate history, which meant that in the opening scenes of this season they had some bonkers good deep fakes of Al Gore saying stuff he never said. I think that's okay to do in a fiction show that imagines a different US history! "but Lauren", you might be saying, "Al Gore isn't a member of SAG!" are you sure? are you positive? because I'm pretty certain he is - he was in several episodes of 30 Rock, way more people are in SAG than you think (every NPR reporter for instance), and the two worst presidents we've had in the last 50 years (yes, those ones), are both definitely members of SAG (even if one is dead). now, the other side of this is that public figures like politicians are under a different social contract than actors, and if they wanted to sue, they could, unlike the average SAG actor who might have their image abused. this is why this is in the "hm" column - deep fakes and parody/satire/commentary use of replicas is already here and there's always going to be a 1st amendment argument to make, so we need to figure out how best to limit those and protect the most vulnerable.

alteration: with this language, a project can digitally alter without consent if the script and performance stays "substantially" the same. again, this language is too mealy-mouthed. I don't know that I have a huge problem with a line of dialogue getting replaced with a digital version of that actors voice if, for instance, a word was mispronounced, or wind garbled the sound or whatever - yes, it would eliminate the need for ADR, but if we put some limit on it like..."if there are more than 5 lines in a given episode/movie that require digital alteration in the service of clarity, the actor must be engaged for an ADR session or paid for the digital replacement" then I could see this being workable. I'm also personally okay with things like costumes being digitally altered but, again, we need limitations on that. digital altering cannot replace the art of costuming but, for instance, if a costume needs to be altered to include a hate symbol or something, I think that's fine (example: I have friends who worked at the VFX house for an alternate history TV show that involved a lot of Nazi costuming and set design - a huge part of that VFX house's job was to put swastikas in places, rather than props making nazi flags. I'm okay with that!) but again, these fringe cases do not a compelling arugment make, and this contract language can be interpreted too broadly for my comfort! like everything else in this "hm" category, I need to see the final contract language to decide.

the AI bad

there's a bunch of circumstances in which actors don't get paid for creating their replica/use of it and those circumstances are too broad for my taste.

synthetic performers - this is just awful. no. no, we should not be allowing AI to generate entire actors. just............no. there's some language about the producers having to talk to the union if the synthetic performer is "used in place of a performer who would have been engaged under this Agreement in a human role" but this doesn't apply to non-human characters so....wouldn't that be all roles?? leaving the producers room to be like "this role has to be synthetic, we never would've cast a human!" is bullshit. also, even if we're having AI create a magical talking unicorn whole cloth (which, like, also no, we have artists for this), that unicorn still needs to be voiced by a human person. this whole section is a disaster.

the exceptions to consent for digital alteration are bad-bad. I talked about the potential ADR replacement above and that has a whole host of issues with it that I didn't even get into, but I can see the argument. the rest are very troubling:

there is an exception under "any circumstance when dubbing or use of a double is permitted under the Codified Basic Agreement or Television Agreement" - okay, so does this mean we can replace dubbing artists and stunt performers entirely? this section is about digital alteration, but who's to say alteration couldn't turn an actor broadly miming a fight into an entirely digital, expertly performed fight that usually a stunt double would have done? with AI translation technology, does this mean we're replacing VO artists for dubs entirely? bad!

similarly, "Adjusting lip and/or other facial or body movement and/or the voice of the performer to a foreign language, or for purposes of changes to dialogue or photography necessary for license or sale to a particular market" - Justine Bateman has a great twitter thread on the terrible puppetry potential of this but I want to draw attention to the particular market bit - we all know that selling to china is such a huge part of studios' strategies that they'll remove entire scenes or lines around queer stuff. to me, this clause makes all of that so much easier. I know the argument here is going to be "we can replace swear words and license it for kids!" which.......sure? fine? but, uh, we already have ways to deal with that? and the potential for abuse here is terrifying to me. with all the digital alteration stuff too, there's just so much icky implication for the beauty/body standard to get so much worse.

if a background actor’s digital replica is used in the role of a principal performer, they'll be paid as if they actually performed the days for that role, which, sure, but uhhhh why are we saying it's okay for a digital replica of a background actor to suddenly be a leading role!?!?! I can't think of anything more demoralizing than going to set to act in background (a job I've done! an important job! a fun job a lot of the time! but creatively limited) and then getting a much bigger role (the dream!) and.....not being able to, you know, act that role or be in scenes with other principal actors or do the thing that you've dedicated your life to doing. nightmare stuff.

woof. there's so much more to say but I'm going to leave it there. these are the concerns I'm going to go into SAG's meetings with, and the concerns I'll be considering as I decide how to vote. I know there are things I didn't address and very possibly things I misinterpreted or misrepresented - if you're an actor, I highly recommend a) reading that Justine Bateman thread and b) attending SAG's meetings to ask questions and express your concerns. and I'd love to hear what y'all think! my ask box is open.

#sag aftra #sag #sag strike #AI #me: I'm just gonna look through the terms #me: I'm just gonna do a quick write up before starting my day #clock: it's been almost two hours #not to keep hammering at the 'this is not me saying that I am correct or that I've made up my mind' bit #but this is the piss on the poor reading comprehension website so #I'M NOT SAYING I'M RIGHT #TAKE ALL THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT #i mostly have questions and concerns and am pleasantly surprised at some stuff #knowing that there *is* a degree to which we will have to compromise #and I'm WILDLY concerned about other stuff #would love to hear what other SAG members think

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blitzyn · 11 months

Text

special attention pt. 3

dottore x m!reader

Request : HI- I noticed you have your requests open so I'm super excited! I love your writing sm. If possible, can I request like a continuation of your Dottore and fatui! Reader? Maybe one where the reader (sub & bottom) is assigned under another harbinger so all of his attention has been on this other harbinger instead of on Dottore (dom & top)? If not then that's okay! - Anonymous

Synopsis: Dottore has enough of his subpar Agents and decides to take you back.

part 1 | part 2

a/n -> i did it omg. super sorry ive been gone again! life was a bit busy but now that summer is coming up i might be able to write these a bit faster. im not super proud of this one since im kinda rusty rn but i hope this is at least decent! also, sorry for the sudden change in appearance!

wc -> 3.4k

cw -> anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, desk/office sex, choking, slight overstim, pretty vanilla overall ig, he's kinda possessive so there's that, not beta read

"Stupid, incompetent—" The Harbinger before the cowering Fatui subordinate cut himself off with an agitated sigh. It was quiet for a few moments, save for the agent's nervous breaths. Dottore wasn't one to get irritated very often, let alone angry. Perhaps the results produced by his previous agent skyrocketed his standards – or maybe this one was just dumber than an idiot.

"Please, help me comprehend how you lost not one," The Agent looked just about ready to sink into the floor. "not two, but six bases?"

The subordinate struggled to answer, mouth gaping open and closed as their hands shook in ill-concealed fear. Maybe in different circumstances, he would've given an amused quirk of his lips, though this was the last thing he needed right now. Instead, his lips curled into a scowl.

"W-We were... Overwhelmed..." they stammered pathetically.

"Clearly," Dottore said, impatiently tapping his finger on his knuckle. "I'm certain you're capable of speaking properly."

"We were ambushed by a horde of Mitachurls..." There was a beat of silence.

"And?"

They did not answer. "Don't tell me you lost all six because of mere Mitachurls."

Dottore's frown deepened. "That seems a bit coincidental, don't you think? If you're going to lie, do it well." He sighed. "Dismissed. I'll see to it you're placed back under basic training."

His voice held a monotonous tone to it that made the Agent fidget in place.

"It was a mistake—"

"Dismissed. I've already given you a chance to explain yourself. I have no need for your negligent incompetency."

He watched as the Agent hurried out of his office, and he had half the mind to yank them back inside when they slammed the door shut. He ground his teeth, irritated with the turn of events. He was going to need a new subordinate. Again.

He sighed. Not one of them managed to regain lost fortresses within a week, and he's been losing more than he thought possible. He, number 2 of the Harbingers, lost more than number 11. He was angry, above all else, but there was also the undeniable burn of humiliation at that fact.

It nearly surprised him how weak the soldiers sent to him were. Or perhaps they were always this way, and having you raised his expectations tenfold. He knew your strength and self-control were, by far, your best virtues, and it so happened to be what others were lacking. You were sent away to another Harbinger to keep the other Agents in check, and while he may have been the slightest bit proud to have managed to acquire an Agent that proved to be what everyone else needed, he was growing tired of having to wait for your return.

He shoved the articles that struck irritation through his chest into a drawer and stood from his chair. Quickly striding out of his office, he set out to search for you.

It didn't take him long to find you, though it was purely an accident. You were swiftly walking down the echoing hallways with a few papers and a relic that he didn't care to identify before he called your name.

"Agent [L.Name]," he spoke, his voice even.

"Yes, Lord Harbinger?" You paused in front of him after offering a slight bow. You fidgeted. "I apologize for the urgency, but Lady Arlecchino requests that I hurry with submitting my report."

"I am rescinding my permission to allow you to work under someone else." Even with your mask on, he was easily able to discern your surprise. The slight curl of your fingers was a dead giveaway, though, to any other person, it might've come off as idle shifting.

You were at a loss for what to do. You couldn't go against your current superior, but you also couldn't defy the words of one of the highest-ranking Harbingers that was still technically your boss.

"Lady Arlecchino said that I must hurry in delivering this item, and I'd rather not break her trust..." you trailed off as you observed him under your mask, something he was no doubt doing to you under his.

You nervously ground your teeth at the frown that crossed his face but remained steadfast with your words.

"Your loyalty is a virtue, but I'm afraid you've placed it upon the wrong person." He positioned his hands behind his back. "I will handle her when the time comes. Now, you respond to me."

"Yes, sir," you said after a moment. While you felt a tinge of relief at finally being able to work under him again, you felt a bit uncomfortable with leaving an assignment just as you were about to finish. But you knew you were going to have to set aside what you felt at the moment - you had a feeling something was off.

You thought about asking him what was wrong but decided against it with hopes that he'll bring it up himself. He wasn't the type to search for someone unless he needed them.

Your shoes tapped against the cold marble floors as you walked silently, following behind at a respectful distance. It didn't take long for you to reach his office, neither of you wasting time to get in.

"During your absence, many others have arrived to take your place. None of them have managed to produce quality or successful reports." He handed you a few papers for you to skim through. Without missing a beat, you did what was wordlessly told and blinked slowly underneath your mask. How could someone possibly fuck up this bad?

You startled a bit when you felt a hand rest on your hip, but maintained your usual demeanor.

"Would you like me to train the new recruits? Starting from there prevents more of this from happening," you questioned, curiously peering at him over your shoulder. "Or do you suggest otherwise?"

Dottore hummed. "I suggest that you assist me in relieving some of the irritation the others have caused."

You swallowed as anticipation bubbled in your chest. "Of course, my Lord."

"Mask." Was all he said, voice demanding and stern.

You wordlessly nodded, raising your hand to remove your mask and hood. There was a prickling sensation on the side of your face where his gaze bore into you, studying every twitch of your muscles. You could feel your skin grow hot, and with the way the corners of his lips slightly raised, he could see it, too.

Your nerves were abuzz with excitement, pooling in your gut that spread outwards towards your fingertips. You resisted the urge to rub your thighs together for some semblance of relief, clenching your jaw tightly.

"Already? Were you anticipating this from the start?" he mused, dragging his fingertips across your crotch. "How needy."

He squeezed lightly before abandoning the area, placing a hand on your chest to slip it underneath your thick coat, silently urging you to take it off. You did without complaint, finding the fur inside overbearing. You tried to toss it on the floor as neatly as you could before his hands found themselves beneath your shirt, gliding his cold, gloved palms over your scalding skin.

As quickly as they came, they left, only to push you down onto his desk. Your breath was caught in your throat, curling your fingers into a fist as you reveled in how he dragged his hands down your body to curl his fingers underneath the waistband of your pants. He wasted no time in sliding your pants off, swiftly pressing a palm against your aching cock.

You sighed at the touch, shifting your hips forward in search of relief. He gently squeezed and stroked you through your boxers with a quiet, condescending laugh.

He pinned you to the desk by the top of your back and began grinding against your ass, leisurely thrusting while observing the way your hands twitched to stimulate yourself even further.

With an amused smile, he suddenly pulled away completely. You shivered at the absence of his body heat, peering over your shoulder to send him a questioning look.

"I must thank you for your assistance," he said, rounding the corner of his desk. "I feel quite relaxed, now."

"I-Wh..." you stammered, trying to peer through his mask despite the lack of eyes.

"What's the matter? I'm afraid you need to speak up if you want me to understand you." He crossed his arms in a faux contemplative manner. Your face burned, unable to properly look at him.

"Oh, don't get shy on me now," he spoke with a mocking tone in his voice, standing directly across from you as he grabbed you by your chin. It was a firm hold, and you were unlikely to be able to free yourself from him - not that you wanted to, anyway. "It's a simple request. Tell me what you want."

Your mouth opened and closed pitifully before you finally responded, "I want you to keep touching me."

"See? That wasn't so difficult, now was it?" His grin widened a fraction and he returned to his place behind you. He enjoyed the way you were so easily reduced into a sheepish mess by just a few of his touches that you were sure were laced with some type of drug.

He removed his gloves and snaked one of his hands up your throat to your mouth, wordlessly commanding you to suck on his fingers. You readily complied and swirled your tongue around his skin which tasted faintly of chemicals and salt. Your heart pounded in your chest when he pushed them deeper, chest rising and falling in shallow intervals. You wrapped your lips around them and sucked, treating them as if they were his cock (which you secretly craved, but you supposed it wasn't much of a secret anymore).

Dottore could feel heat rising in his abdomen the longer he held them in your mouth, pleased with your eagerness.

A string of saliva connected you to him when he pulled away, his free hand sliding your underwear down your legs. He prodded your hole for a few agonizing moments just to listen to your hitching breaths before he finally inserted them inside you. His thick fingers provided a slight burn, but it quickly morphed into arousal.

He moved at a leisurely pace, enjoying your increasing impatience as you tried dutifully to keep your desperation at bay. He made sure to avoid your prostate to leave you needy for more, pressing against areas close to where you wanted him. You let out frustrated sighs but refused to voice out your complaints, letting him follow his own pace.

It was amusing to see you try hard to maintain your slipping composure, but he knew that soon enough, it would collapse completely.

You tensed when he removed his fingers from you, anticipating the familiar feeling of his cockhead against your hole, but it never came.

"You know, I think I may have had a change of heart," he said with a thoughtful tone. "Perhaps you should report to Arlecchino after all."

"Wait-" you pleaded, voice high and frantic. "S-surely you're not serious?"

"Oh? What makes you think that?"

You swallowed hard. Dottore is unpredictable - that much you learned. For all you know, he could be entirely sincere and you'd look like a fool, but a part of you believes that he's only messing with you. Getting you flustered was often a part of his intentions when he was around you, so it wasn't impossible.

"Because you do not back away from your plans when they're already set, regardless of how you think it may turn out."

"And might you enlighten me in what you think said plans are?"

You swallowed nervously as quiet words spilled from your lips. "To fuck me..."

There was a moment of agonizing silence (for you, at least) before a smile overtook his features. "I'm flattered you know me so well."

You bit your lip in anticipation when you heard the rustle of fabric behind you. You could hardly repress a shudder when you listened to him spit on his cock before pressing himself against your hole, holding your waist tightly with one hand while the other guided him inside.

You groaned at the burning sensation from the lack of preparation he provided you. Your dick ached to be touched, but you resisted and relished in the pain of having to wait.

"Fuck," Dottore hissed, fighting valiantly to keep himself from shoving his cock inside you. "You're tighter than the last time I fucked you."

"Just for you," your words were breathy, your rigid Agent persona slipping away by the minute. It almost made him laugh at how easy it was to break you down like this.

"For me?" he cooed, cock throbbing. "You poor thing. You had to wait so long just to finally have me fuck you, didn't you?"

You nodded, heavy pants exiting your lips. You peered at him from over your shoulder, eyes wide and watery; there was no calm Fatuus to be seen, and he found that he adored this side of you. He could hardly suppress a smile, instead focusing on how you tightened so pleasurably around him.

"It's almost hard to believe you haven't been whoring yourself out this entire time," he muttered, partially to you. "But I know that only I am able to satisfy you like this. Or am I wrong?"

He didn't expect an answer from you - not when you could hardly keep yourself standing. He curled his fingers in your hair and yanked, forcing you to look at him. Your incoherence wasn't going to stop him from trying.

"Well?"

"N-No... only you." Your cock throbbed.

"Thought so."

He let you go in favor of holding your hips firmly, pulling out briefly to slam himself back in. The sting of him stretching you out paired deliciously with the pleasure of his cockhead against your prostate, gradually speeding up until you had to cover your mouth to prevent your moans from escaping the office.

"None of that," Dottore muttered, pulling your arm away from your face. "Let them hear. Let them know you're not for the taking any longer."

Skin slapping skin echoed in the dimly lit room, accompanied by your noises that left no room for imagination. He pulled you by the waist and wrist, tugging you onto his cock as he thrusted forward.

Your dick produced precum that dripped into the cold, marble floor, aching to be touched. The need for release burned hotter in your abdomen, and you couldn't stop yourself from subconsciously moving your hips to fuck yourself onto him.

He paused for a moment to allow you to take a brief moment of control. A condescending smile overtook his features before he regained his previous pace, driving himself forward hard enough to sting. The pain only served to enhance the ecstasy that was brought upon you, lust pooling in the pit of your stomach.

It took a great deal of restraint to prevent yourself from reaching down and jerking yourself off, your nails creating thin indents on the firm wood of the desk. He could feel you tighten around him considerably and he nearly groaned, but let out a heavy sigh through his nose instead.

Snaking one hand up your throat, he pulled you to his chest and squeezed. You instinctively wrapped your fingers around his wrist but made no attempt to pull him away. He used his other hand to tightly grasp the base of your cock, interrupting your incoming orgasm.

You let your eyes flutter shut as drool escaped the corners of your lips, too hazy-minded to remember to swallow. Raspy breaths left your throat as your ears gradually began to ring, chest tightening with a need for air, but the deprivation only sent an addicting heat through your body.

You nearly choked on your saliva when his grip went lax, not entirely moving away, but enough to let you breathe. It was hard to inhale properly when he fucked the breath out of you, but you knew that that was the best part.

"Oh, fuck, pl-please," you babble, voice raspy.

"Please what?" Dottore spoke beside your ear. "I'm not a mind reader."

He subtly angled himself and targeted your prostate to hinder your words, a faint smile lifting his face at every stutter and cry you produced. You weakly tugged on his wrist in a vain attempt to tell him what you wanted, but he remained steadfast on hearing it from your lips.

"You can use your words, can't you?" He moved his hand from your neck to begin stroking your cock, the tip flushing an angry red.

"G-God, please-" you stammered before crying out, "Please let me cum!"

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He relished in your pained groan when he briefly tightened his grip before releasing you, quickly guiding you to your orgasm with every flick of his wrist.

Electricity shot down your spine and pooled in your stomach as soon as he let go, catching you off guard. Your fingernails dug into his glove as you nearly curled into yourself, legs trembling so intensely it was a miracle you managed to hold yourself up thus far.

Your chest quickly heaved up and down. "W-Wait-"

"Quiet," Dottore shushed you. "You wanted this. Don't go back on your word."

You focused on his voice, noticing how steady and calm he sounded compared to your desperate pleas for release. A feeling of chagrin filled your chest, making an effort to control your noises, but your struggle was futile.

Tears dotted your lashes when the coil within your abdomen tightened until it finally snapped, the heat of your orgasm washing over you in powerful surges. You arched your back as your jaw went slack in a silent scream. Your cum spurt out of your cock and landed on the marble floor in a small puddle.

"I should do that more, shouldn't I?" Dottore said with a sharp-toothed grin. He wrapped his free arm around your waist when your quivering legs were unable to support your weight any longer, leaning your top half back on the desk.

You'd nod along with him if you were capable of comprehending his words, but the rhythmic pulses of burning ecstasy prevented you from replying - not that he minded. His dick pressed against your prostate despite you having just orgasmed, his relentless pace not once slowing down. The only sign of exertion he offered you was his labored breaths and occasional grunt, but even those were quiet.

You could feel his cock throb in a way that let you know he was close. You managed to strengthen your legs and started fucking yourself onto him, prompting him to straighten himself and watch.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" he teased, hands resting on your hips. He leaned his head back and let out a satisfied groan that sent electricity shooting down your spine.

His fingertips gradually began to dig into your skin until he held you hard enough to bruise. He allowed you this semblance of control for a few more moments before yanking your hips to him with a few final thrusts, stilling as you shuddered at the feel of his cum coating your insides.

Your legs nearly went limp again, but you managed to keep yourself standing - albeit with an embarrassing amount of effort. You could hear his deep breaths behind you as both of you steeped in the silent afterglow. You suppressed a flinch when he decided to pull out, sighing at the uncomfortable emptiness it left.

You swiftly dressed yourself when you heard quiet shuffling, pulling out a handkerchief to clean your cum off the floor.

"Now, then," Dottore said as soon as you stood upright. "You have much to do since your absence. It'd be best if you began right away."

You nodded, slipping your mask back on your face.

"I don't care how you do it, I only want the results. Understood?"

"Of course." Your voice was back to its neutral tone, making the corner of the Harbinger's lips twitch upwards. It amused him how you responded so professionally despite him having fucked you not moments before. With a final nod, you left his office.

He turned to his desk once more, remembering the papers that he unceremoniously shoved inside the drawers. He sighed. It was back to work.

#genshin impact smut #male reader insert #reader smut #reader #genshin smut #male reader smut #male reader #reader insert #sub reader #sub male reader #dottore x male reader #dottore x reader #dottore x reader smut #genshin x reader

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hikari-kaitou · 1 year

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Translation from Gyakuten Saiban Fan Book

What sort of person is Phoenix Wright?!

How does the producer of the trilogy, Mr. Inaba, view the main character, Phoenix Wright? And what about the character designer, Mr. Iwamoto, who voiced Wright's rival, Miles Edgeworth? What's his opinion on the matter?

Mr. Inaba's comments

Interviewer: I'd like to ask you about what type of guy you think Wright is. Let's start with his birthday.

Inaba: Wright always seems chipper, so perhaps he was born in the spring?

Iv: That might be why that pink sweater suited him so well (lol). What about his living situation?

Ia: I feel like Maya probably swipes the money he makes at his law firm, so Wright is poor. He probably lives in a really basic apartment.

Iv: So his cell phone is probably not the latest model, but rather…

Ia: It's probably a previous generation one that he's used for a long time. Like one of the ones with a green display (lol). He can't afford a new one.

Iv: He's very working class, then (lol).

Ia: I definitely think he is. There's no doubt in my mind. He's got no money. I don't even want to imagine a posh Wright (lol).

Iv: How mean (lol). If he's really that low on funds, then I imagine he doesn't have much money to spare on hobbies.

Ia: He doesn't seem like the type to be particularly interested in music, and since he's poor, he probably can't afford CDs. If he does listen to music, it's probably just whatever is playing on the radio as he hangs out at the fishing pond.

Iv: So you see him as the type of guy who goes to the fishing pond?

Ia: if he did fish as a hobby, I can see him doing it in a pond or something. He's definitely not the sport fishing type.

Iv: You make him sound like he has a typical working class, chill lifestyle.

Ia: I don't see him as the type to spend most of his time indoors though. He probably plays catch or walks his dog… I think that kind of thing suits him best.

Iv: His dog is a mutt, of course?

Ia: Probably a mix of Japanese breeds. He either found the dog abandoned somewhere, or it just happened to wander into his office, or Maya forced it on him so he ended up keeping it.

Iv: Last question: what do you think Wright's type is?

Ia: Probably the dominant type. After all, he dated Dahlia and worked for Mia (lol).

Mr. Iwamoto's comments

Iv: So about Wright's birthday, when do you think it is?

Iwamoto: Maybe in May? I think it'd be funny if it were the same as Takumi-san's. Maybe his blood type and birthplace are the same as Takumi-san's too?

Iv: Inaba-san had an image of Wright consistent with a working class guy, but what do you think?

Iw: No objections (lol). He doesn't seem like he'd spend much money on his clothes. At the very least, I think he has the type of personality where it wouldn't be unusual to see him outdoors.

Iv: It's hard to imagine him wearing expensive brand-name outfits, isn't it?

Iw: He probably wears jeans, but not like the vintage kind. He probably sleeps in a t-shirt and boxers. Come to think of it, Suekane-san doodled Wright in a sweatshirt once, so he might be the type to wear sweatshirts.

Iv: So what about sports?

Iw: Maybe field soccer? If you put the word "field" in front of a sport, it sounds more working class. Like "field baseball."

Iv: He sounds totally working class, just like Inaba-san's image. Do you think he gets together with a bunch of friends and plays a rowdy game of field soccer?

Iw: I wonder. Wright seems like the type of guy who doesn't have a lot of friends somehow. His only soccer buddy is Larry Butz, so he plays just with him. They'd be like "You play goalie next, ok?" They'd take turns doing penalty shootouts… jeez, that's depressing (lol). In contrast to Wright, Larry seems like he'd be more shy around other people. He probably doesn't remember any of those people's names (lol).

Iv: In terms of physical build, Wright has more of a swimmer's body than a soccer player body. His shoulders are broad.

Iw: Suekane-san drew him pretty burly in the first game, didn't she? I tried to keep that image when I drew him. But if you really want to know what Wright's body type is like, you can find out by having Takumi-san strip for you (lol). I think Wright is highly influenced by Takumi-san himself.

Edgeworth version

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #my translation #atsushi inaba #tatsurou iwamoto

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hyunniesgirl · 7 months

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Empty heart

Summary: you're just tired of waiting for your boyfriend that's never there for you.

Word count: 912

Warnings: just angst, sad ending

Masterlist

A/N: I was listening to a sad song and just wanted to write something heartbreaking, I hope I could convey what I had in mind.

It has been five days since you last saw Chan. You live together, is it normal to not see someone that lives in the same house as you for so long? You should have realized it isn't a long time ago, now you're seated on the couch, waiting for someone you're not sure is even coming home.

You have your bags ready, you're just waiting for him to come home so you can say your goodbyes, it's the least you can do after three years together.

When you hear the beeps of the door, you know it's him. He's earlier than usual. The moment he opens the door and see the bags on the floor, you know he can tell what's happening, he just can't seem to believe it.

"What's this, babe? Are you going on a trip?" He asks, dropping his bag on the couch and smiling slightly at you. You shake your head, taking a deep breath and gathering the courage to start.

"I can't keep doing this", you say staring at the floor, you just can't look at Chan's eyes, if you look at him you know you'll want to give up.

"What do you mean, Y/N?" He asks, confused.

"I want to end things"

"Why? Did something happen?" You can tell that he's hurting by the way his voice is coming out, but you were already expecting that.

"I just… I don't want to be alone anymore, I don't want to wake up to an empty bed or sleep to a silent home", he knows it not just that, but there's so much you're not sure if you'll be able to talk about it without bawling.

"I can do better, I- I can be better", he steps closer to you, but you step away, shaking your head.

"You can't Chan, and you know it", you finally look at him, seeing the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "It's not your fault, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating", you sniff, whipping your tears, "I just didn't think it would be this hard"

"Please… please Y/N, we can work this out, I know we can", he grabs your hand squeezing it and trying to kiss it but you pull it back.

"I really don't think we can, you have to prioritize your career and I have to prioritize myself, it's best this way", you turn around, throwing your bag over your shoulder and walking towards the door but his voice makes you stop in your tracks before you can grab the doorknob.

"Run away with me", you turn around, looking at him with a frown. "Let's leave everything behind"

He walks towards you, taking your hands on his.

"Let's go to the beach, you always want to go there", he suggests and you're swayed for a moment.

You want to stay, you really do. But you're just tired, you can't have a normal life, you can't tell people you have a boyfriend because you'll get questions about him and you can't tell people who he is. You can't put a picture with him on your lock screen or even post it somewhere because people can see it, you can't hold hands outside because of the dating rumors, you can't go to dinner together if you're not wearing a disguise, you can't show off the handsome and sweet boyfriend you have.

You spend days alone because of his crazy schedule, long trips and all nighters producing. You have to store the dinner you made for you both to eat together all the times he sends you a message telling you he won't be able to go home before midnight even though he promised he would make it. You have to sleep in a cold empty bed and wake up to a cold empty bed.

Everything was worth it every time you saw his smile, the songs he made and showed you first hand, all the times the boys came over to make company for you. But that just stopped being enough some time ago and now you can't bring yourself to stay because you know you'll keep being alone, it's not something he can control and it's not something he can change, not while he's trying to make his name.

Maybe one day someone will be lucky enough to meet him when he's already settled, he'll be good to them, come home on time and cuddle them to sleep. They'll wake up to his breathing hitting their head while they snuggle into his embrace. He'll be able to take them out, date them in broad daylight and be there for them.

But that's just not going to be you, not anymore.

You smile at him, throwing your arms around his neck and squeezing him into a hug, he feels relieved for a moment before you speak again.

"You made me happy, Chan, you really did. You taught me that I deserve to be loved and I'll always love you for that", you say, before stepping aside, "I hope you can find someone better than me", you turn around and open the door before you have the chance to give up.

Chan stays there, looking at the empty space you left. You're wrong, he's not going to find anyone better than you, no one will ever love him the way you did and he will never love someone the way he loves you.

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leesjuicycalves · 22 days

Text

DESSERT!

Han x reader Summary: After long days and nights of him working at the studio, you decide to go see Han and try to get him back to the dorms to get some rest. You bring along some food and his favorite dessert, which he's really thankful for. P.S: Smut

“Woah woah woah where are you going dressed like that?” Chan remarked turning his full body properly to face you standing by the door ready to leave the dorm.

“Am heading over to the studio to see Jisung and give him some food, and he probably needs some fresh clothes too come to think of it,” you say in a rush as you head back upstairs hurriedly passing Minho by the stairs without even as much as a glance.

The kids have been really busy preparing their next release, this meant 3racha had to work overtime producing, mixing and tweaking to make the best of what they had. Bang Chan, Changbin and Han had been spending more time in the studio than in the dorms for the past week and had barely gotten any sleep or eaten that much. Luckily, by your pleas and complains out of sheer concern, Chan and Changbin had turned up this morning at about 6 am. When you asked of Han’s whereabouts they said that he had insisted on staying back a bit longer to finish on his solo track, knowing him and his determination for perfection the other guys could probably say nothing about it. So you took it upon yourself to take him some food and now some clean clothes at the studio and probably some company since he was at least bored after staying by himself for a while.

“But she can’t go out like…like…that,” you walk in on Chan explaining to Minho whose now munching on an apple.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” you say sincerely puzzled as you look at yourself then up at the guys. You had decided on wearing denim booty shorts that stopped barely above your knees leaving your milky chocolate thighs out and a pink tank-top that did very little to cover up your cleavage and left a tad bit of your tummy exposed.

“Nothing, Chan is being dramatic, he’s old remember,” Seungmin chimes in as he walks into the living room. You giggle at his comment and put on your converse, strap the backup that had all of Han’s essentials in it ready to leave.

“D-don’t you think that’s too much skin showing Y/N?” Chan finally speaks out and you hear both Seungmin and Minho scoff at his comment.

“Oh! But it’s like a thousand degrees out there, I don’t wanna wear long pants,” you whine whilst stumping your feet like a toddler hands folded just below your bosom.

“It’s fine though there’s nothing wrong with it, Chan just has some territorial issues with his ‘property’. You look hot.” Minho tells you, a smirk plastered on his face as he walks to you and gives your ass a light smack. You’re used to it now and don’t react to it just giving him a smack back and walk over to Chan.

“I promise am only going to the studio and coming back right away Channie,” you hook your hands around his neck and kiss the nape of it softly inhaling his musk scent, “I won’t be long. I’ll come right back then you can take this outfit off me if you don’t like it that much, m’kay?” You whisper the last part and run out the door not really waiting to hear Chan’s reply but you know the tip of his ears are that beautiful shade of red and pink.

The ride to the studio was short and fast just the way you wanted it to be, honestly speaking you had missed Han more than you thought you would and maybe taking him food and clothes was just an excuse to finally see him, well besides actually looking out for him. When you get to the studio you lightly knock at the door not wanting to interrupt Han lest he was with someone in there, you hear a soft ‘come in’ and pop your head in first with a bright smile.

“Hello,” you say cheerfully and as soon as Han hears your voice you get to see that gummy smile of his that had been out of your site way too long for your liking.

“Y/N, am so happy you’re here, why are you here?” he asks rising to his feet and fully opening the door for you. You enter and the first thing he does is scheme his eyes over your entire body and swallows thickly then proceeds to keep his eyes strictly on your face.

“Which one is it Han? Are you happy am here or should I leave if am disrupting you?” you ask coldly, but playfully and you see how his face instantly falls as he babbles out trying to explain himself.

“No…..I never…..I just…..what I mean is…”

“Relax, am messing with you,” you laugh at his flushed state and he instantly relaxes laughing along with you.

“I brought you food and clean clothes, I know you didn’t eat yesterday and your clothes probably stink,” you make a face at him and he giggles at you saying a small thank you as you settle on the couch and take the bag pack off your back. Han doesn’t fail to notice how your soft thighs flatten so deliciously on the couch as you take your seat, his eyes stayed glued there while you fumbled around taking his food out, your voice only coming out as a faint echo, his full attention on your exposed thighs.

“Hann-ah, are you even listening to me?”

“Ah…yeah….yeah,” he replies faster than he intended to lifting his eyes to settle on yours once again.

“I said I brought you cheesecake for dessert,” you say excitedly taking the neatly packaged dessert out for him.

“Thank you so much Y/N,” Han grabs the packet his eyes shimmering out of excitement as he begins to unwrap it but you stop him before he can go any further.

“Have your meal first then you can have the cheesecake,” you say sternly placing the package on your lap. Han’s eyes trail off again to where the dessert is set, he swallows thickly and gets to eating his meal so he can distract his thoughts and most importantly get to eat his dessert. You keep him company as he eats his meal while updating him on what you’ve been up to for the past few days but you notice that he’s not his usual cheery self as he speaks, he seems aloof and distracted which made you think that his time at the studio must have really drained him.

“Hannie, I think you should get some rest then continue working later. You don’t seem so good,” you say softly as you set aside his empty bowl.

“But I need to finish this track, it’s almost done I swear,” he speaks with his cheeks stuffed with cheesecake. You protest his little excuse and get up leaning over him to wipe a bit of the cream’s cake that had stained his lips and Han completely loses it, your exposed cleavage coming out the more right in front of his face and the scent of you so close to him after not being around you for the past week lets a small whimper out of him.

To be honest, Han had spent the last twenty minutes or so trying to make his very hard dick oblivious to you and keep up with your conversation at the same time. He didn’t want to seem like a pervert especially when you came out of your way to take good care of him and bring him food, he knew you probably had other things to do yet you still went an extra mile for him. It was just, your outfit was doing things to him and his brain was imagining all the possible ways he could fold and bend you over the couch and take you right there and then. He had imagined, in the past twenty minutes, the feel of his fingertips on your chocolate thighs, his palm against those soft breasts and your soft glossy lips against his. You probably tasted like cherries since you smelled like it. He had imagined his head in between you soft thighs, your head pressed back onto the couch beautiful moans falling from your lips and so much more. So it was only fair that he was that pent up now.

“S-sorry,” he apologizes timidly as you look at him cocking an eyebrow. Your eyes trail down to his hard on and you smirk up at him.

“What’s this Sungie? You’re hard, really?” You say in a mocking tone as you set your palm right above his hard dick. Han bites down a moan and his eyes close instantly.

“Am trying to make a conversation and you’re hard Sungie, that’s not very nice is it?” You whisper against his ear pressing harder onto his crotch.

“M’sorry, y-you look g-g-good,” he whines and ruts at your palm desperately at which you immediately withdraw your hand and stand upright.

“Thank you,” you simply say and smile at him. Jisung whines much louder at the loss of contact and looks up at you with teary eyes his cheesecake long forgotten and dropped on the floor.

“I brought you cake and you waste it Sungie, that’s kinda rude.” You kneel right in front of him after grabbing some tissue from the bag pack and proceed to clean the mess on the floor. Han is sure he might burst at any time because of the sight of you knelt right before him, your breast almost popping off your tank-top as you clean the little mess he made.

“Y/N, please,” you hear him whine as you finish up

“Please what baby?”

“Need to feel you, please,” he answers in desperation as his hand dips below his jeans searching for some sort of relief.

You could tease him more but the desperation in his voice makes you think otherwise, you didn’t think it would be this easy to get him to fold but you were happy nonetheless. You were glad you chose this particular outfit. You scoot closer so that you are in between his legs and dip your right hand into his pants along with his cupping him through his boxers and over his hand.

“Ngggh~ m-more,” he moans out and you withdraw your hand again.

“Ask nicely and I’ll give you more,” you say coldly and sit on your knees staring at him sweetly opposite to your tone.

“Please, Y/N. P-please, I need you….so bad,” he says with glossy eyes as he starts to move his hand about in his jeans and you immediately shift to take both his trousers and boxers off. Han sighs out in relief at the freedom from his constraints, you shove his hand away and lick the tip of his dick painfully slow making him throw his head back with a long breathy moan. You pump his dick a few times earning a groan from him, it feels weird without any sort of moisture so you dip your head and lick around his shaft briefly. You give the slit at the top of his dick a few kitty licks keeping your eyes intently on him.

“Keep your eyes on me Sungie,” you speak directly in front of him, the vibrations making him whine but he opens his eyes and looks down at you the sight of your lips so close to his crotch making him harder than he already is.

“F-fuck,” he groans out when your lips finally sink down on him taking him deep into your throat. Han isn’t that big per se and he isn’t small either, his dick is just the perfect length and width as you would say. Thick enough to be accommodated by your warm mouth without that much discomfort and long enough to hit the back of your throat just right.

“Shit, you feel…s-soo good, hol-holy fuck,” you hear Han say as you bob your head faster on his dick, your tongue swiveling around the shaft once in a while. You let it slide out of your mouth with a slight pop and you shift on your knees because the rough rug underneath feels a bit uncomfortable. You get back to it by briefly sucking his balls then continue bobbing your head, this time with a sort of slow-fast rhythm hands grabbing at the arms of the chair he’s sitting on.

“Y-Y/N did….did you lock the door,” Han suddenly asks in a whisper. You hum around his shaft answering ‘no’ and he bites his lower lip hard to contain his moans and then you hear the footsteps outside that seem to be passing by. You hum again around Han and he whimpers a bit loudly his eyes popping wide in fear afraid that he might be heard but the thought of it makes you wet and a little excited.

“You have to be quite if you don’t wanna get caught Sungie,” you say with a sickening sweet-sour voice hands fondling with the buttons of your denim shorts. Jisung only watches you out of breath as you straddle him grinding your bare pussy against the tip of his dick.

“Ngghh…..Y/N-aahhh~” he calls out to you with a whine and you chuckle caressing his jaw and cheeks.

“I haven’t even sat on it baby.” You kiss his jaw, still grinding on him at a slow pace. He then tilts your head and gives you a long sweet kiss making you taste the cheesecake he was having a few minutes ago. You push your tongue into his mouth and suck on his making him whine and his grip on you tightens. You lift yourself in between the kiss and sink down in his leaking cock real slow, moaning into his mouth. Jisung frees his lips from your kiss and looks at you with more desperation and need in his eyes, “Please move Y/N, pleaaase.” You only smirk at him and pull him back into the kiss while completely seated still on top of his dick that you feel throbbing inside you.

“OH-FUCKING HELL,” Jisung shouts forgetting you’re in the studio, his head thrown way back into the chair.

“Sungie, you have to stay quiet remember,” you say cheekily as you lift yourself off him a bit then drop instantly.

“D-do that again, please,” he whines.

“What? You mean, this.” You say cockily as you contract your vaginal muscles around his dick then relax them and repeat two more times again basically fucking him while completely sitting still a top of him.

“Y-yes, fuck. Ahhhh~ Again, again.”Jisung says completely out of breath, you try to kiss him again but he’s too lost in relishing in the feeling of your tight walls pumping him tightly and letting go, his mouth hang pen in silent moans. You settle on kissing around his neck and adam’s apple that bobs once in a while as he swallows.

“Am gonna cum,” he announces his grip on your waist tightening. You move your hips in a circular motion whilst squeezing around him and he brings his face to rest at the bridge of your breasts burying it there.

“Ngggh~” you hear him mewl against your chest and you feel a gush of warm liquid fill you which pivots you to your own release in seconds.

Both of you stay glued to each other for a few more seconds, Han’s hot breath against your chest his head heaving up and down due to you trying to steady your breathing. You weave your fingertips into his soft locks and it’s only then that you notice that his hair’s gotten longer.

“Thanks for the dessert,” you hear him mumble against your bosom and chuckle then get off him. He silently watches as you move about tidying yourself up.

“Aren’t you gonna put that back in, it’s scaring me now,” you joke pointing at his now flaccid cock.

“It was inside you,” he says as a matter of fact, finally cleaning and tiding himself up as well.

“I know,” you say trying to sound agitated. “Let’s go, mmh?”

He turns to save whatever he had going on his devices, turns them off and then grabs your hand walking out of the studio heading to the dorms for a well needed rest.

#stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz imagines #han x reader #han jisung #jisung smut #skz x y/n #han x y/n #indie thoughts

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ssaeri · 1 year

Text

we fall to ashes

☆ tags: alex x gn!reader, he finds something that he never expected to see on your farm, this was going to be angst with an angst ending, but then my sister begged me to not write a sad ending, so have this relieving happy ending instead, LOTS of alex spoilers! ☆

Alex stretches his arms over his head and breathes in deep. In the distance, he hears chickens screaming—a sure sign that he's getting closer to your farm. The walk from his house isn't short, but while his grandparents would complain about the distance, he finds it ideal for cooling down after his harder work-outs. And he gets to see you at the end? He'd say that's a winner winner chicken dinner situation...out of earshot from your coop, at least.

"Hey there! Evelyn's boy!" Pam calls from his right.

He slows to a stop and waves. She sits in the driver seat of her newly repaired bus, window fully open, and takes another swig from her Joja Cola. Immediately, her face scrunches.

"Mornin', Pam!" he yells back. "How's that alcohol detox going for you?"

"Awful." She smacks her lips and holds the can up to her eyes, searching the ingredients for what makes it so fucking nasty. You often joke that it's the bitter taste of capitalism. "I could go for something stronger in this heat. You think the farmer has an extra glass of pale ale?"

Alex's smile tightens. Ever since Pam and Penny's trailer turned into an actual house, Pam's been doing her best to break old habits and he's glad for it—he can finally walk by her without the reflexive gag and hurried steps. You telling me I stink? she used to ask, angry in her drunken stupor, until she remembered why he showed up on his grandparents' steps nearly two decades ago.

She must read it in his expression now because she waves him off with a roll of her eyes. "I'm kidding, kid. Tell 'em I said hi. They're the only one who takes this damn bus anyway. I might as well take a nap." She slides sunglasses onto her face and reclines her chair until he can't see her anymore. "If I'm still here by the time you go home, wake me up."

Classic Pam, he thinks as he continues to your farm. Your dog is already running from the front door to greet him, panting and barking and disturbing your horse's peace.

"Come on, buddy," he laughs, shooing your dog until he can push open the gate. "I was supposed to surprise them."

Alex scratches your horse's ear as he passes its stable. Grape vines twist and sag on the trellises you've set up for the season, the structures nearly bursting with fruit, and he makes a mental note to stop by tomorrow to help with the harvesting. Maybe it could substitute for a work-out. He's helped you ship boxes of produce before and wondered how ripped he'd be after a month of your lifestyle. Between the trellises, the melons are just starting to come in. He doesn't know how long it takes for them to ripen, only that they taste really good when you drop off a basket for his grandma.

He calls out your name. Not in the fields, not in the pasture. Your new greenhouse, maybe? You were muttering something about ancient fruit last night. Or the mushroom cave, something he still can't believe is a feature on your farm. If Demetrius could add that, maybe Alex could talk you into installing an outdoor lifting station.

He walks past your workbench and active machines...

...and walks backwards again, hoping that his eyes are deceiving him. Crystalariums reproducing diamonds to sell, charcoal kilns working double time for enough coal, bone mills churning out fertilizer, geode crushers crunching rocks into pebbles, furnaces roaring as they smelt ores into bars—and right on top of the furthest furnace sits a wrapped bundle he's only seen in his (second to) worst nightmares.

He hears your content humming now, somewhere in the main farmhouse. Under normal circumstances, he would've called it cute, but the sound rings mockingly in his ears as he approaches the darkened flowers. A wilted bouquet. Fuck.

"Oh, hey there!" Alex called out as you got closer. He tossed his ever-present gridball into the air. "You here to catch fish again? I think you can find salmon in the river this time of year. At least that's what I heard."

Once you came to a stop in front of him, you shook your head, hands still behind your back. "I'm not fishing today," you said. "I actually wanted to give you something."

"Yeah?" His lips quirked into a grin. Another toss into the air. "Wouldn't happen to be a Salmon Dinner with extra lemon, would it? Those are one of my favorites, but I can never catch any salmon myself. Another egg would be cool, too. I've been adding your weekly deliveries to my workout meals."

You only shifted from one foot to the other, unable to take your eyes off his shoes, and a part of him faltered. You weren't intimidated by him, were you? Ever since you found him crying on the beach, he had been a little more flirtatious than usual, layering on the teasing and showing off. Maybe he came on too strong. Haley always told him that subtlety wasn't his strong suit. The grip on his gridball changed as he tossed it higher.

"You okay there? Did I do something...wait, this is—ow!"

The ball bounced off his head and landed in the grass, but he couldn't care less. He pointed to the bouquet in your hands. Not a regular bouquet, but the Bouquet made to order by Pierre. In a place as small as Pelican Town, there was no need for Pierre to have it in constant stock, so when the signature blooms made the rare appearance, they attracted everyone's eyes.

"...you want to get more serious?" he asked, incredulous.

Something in your expression changed, and you drew the flowers back to your chest. "Oh, sorry, did you not?" You gave him a wide smile, already stepping away. "I must've read the signs wrong. My mistake."

"No! That's not—I mean, you read the signs correctly. I, uh, I feel the same way." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face flush. "So I guess we're together now? Should I be asking you out on a date or something? Or wait, are you asking me out on a date? How does this work?"

You laughed, a genuine sound this time. "We can continue the way we were before."

And so you did, but some things changed for sure. He could hold your hand now as you ran errands around the town, carrying half of the gifts you handed out to the townspeople. He could kiss you goodbye at his door in the evenings, though George cleared his throat loudly every time. Alex remembered making some snide comment about his grandpa, who yelled out a gruff I heard that! before being shushed by Evelyn. When It Howls in the Rain was being shown at the town theater, you bribed him to a screening with the promise of Stardrop Sorbet, but as much as he loved the treat, he would've gone anyway—it was one of his favorite movies with one of his favorite people. Good thing he'd seen it before because he spent most of the time staring at your side profile, wondering when he could finally go pro and have you stare at him on a screen.

Your dog nips at his fingers. He pets it absently. He thought everything was going fine between the two of you. Just yesterday, you came over and had dinner with him and his grandparents. You told them about your mining adventures in the Skull Caverns and, to his horror, showed off your old stitches from Harvey. (George chided your reckless behavior and gave old-timey advice that you nodded along to.) You talked about the new farm you're setting up at Ginger Island—Ancient Fruit wine all year! you told them excitedly. It's a farmer's heaven!—and the Beach Resort you're trying to restore. (Evelyn hummed at your energy, asking rapid-fire questions about the flora there.) You even promised to bring over a season's worth of eggs and leeks as soon as you got your hands on them. (Alex's mind flashed to the old mariner and the mermaid's pendant he could see hanging around your neck in the future.)

So why is a wilted bouquet sitting here, right on top of your furnaces?

No point in guessing when he can just find out the answer right from the source. He takes the flowers and goes to your door, knocking twice. It opens before he has time to second guess his choice.

"Alex! I didn't know you were coming over," you say, beaming at him. He wants to immortalize this version of you: face full of dirt smudges and t-shirt collar soaked through with sweat, yet glowing in your element. Until your eyes drop to his hands. "Oh, that's..."

He sets his jaw. "Can I come in and talk?"

Your expression falters further at his cold tone, but you step back and lead him to the living room. Your dog trots in and settles by the TV, head on its paws, watching with blank eyes. Alex sits in his usual spot and you yours, and suddenly he hates how familiar he is with your space.

It's still silent.

You clear your throat. "So," you start, wiping your palms on your jeans. A nervous tick he knows well. "What did you want to talk about?"

He puts the bouquet on the coffee table between you.

"Right." You pause, likely waiting for him to continue, but he doesn't say anything. "Alex, can you at least be less mean about this? I feel like you owe me that much after all this time together." He says nothing. "Like, tell me what's wrong instead of sitting here stone-faced. Things were okay. Why are you breaking up with me—"

"Why am I breaking up with you?" He barks a laugh. "Baby, I found this outside on your furnace! I'm not going to beg for you to stay, but what the hell is this?"

Your forehead furrows. "What? I wouldn't."

"If it's not yours and it's not mine, then whose is it?"

"I don't know! Alex, I wouldn't—I never even thought about breaking up," you insist. "Why would I lie about that?"

After scrutinizing your stricken expression, his relief comes in waves. He sinks into your couch, hands rubbing at his face.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just—" He laughs again, the sound mostly air. "Yoba, that scared me. If someone left this here as a prank, I'm hunting them down tonight." He lifts his head to look at you and opens his arms. "Can you come over here?"

You wrinkle your nose. "I'm gross."

"You could be playing in mud with your pigs, and I'd still jump in."

With a roll of your eyes, you hop over to curl into his side and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You stink, but so does he after a good workout. Now that he thinks about it, he's still in his gym clothes.

"You scared me, too," you tell him, gaze trained on the table. "Not the best thing to see on a Friday afternoon. But now I want to know whose this is. Did you check it for clues?"

"Didn't bother. Thought it was yours." His arm around your waist tightens as you lean forward. "Does it matter?"

But that doesn't stop you. You have the bouquet in your lap now, prying at the blackened ribbon and wrapping. "Look at this," you say, holding it between two fingers. "The ribbon isn't blue, and Pierre always uses blue. The wrap is pretty much disintegrated, but this corner—he always puts his store brand." You suck in a breath. "Oh, duh! Where did you say you found this?"

"The furnaces right outside by the workbench."

"Okay, so mystery solved. This is mine, but not in the way you think."

He raises an eyebrow. "Explain. Don't say you're breaking up with a secret partner because I don't think I can handle a second shock right now."

"I made a wildflower bouquet to put on Grandpa's grave a few days ago, but I totally forgot where I put it, so I made a second one. This one must've been the one I misplaced."

He blinks. "How the hell did you not notice it since?"

"I came back from Ginger Island yesterday and went to sleep right after dinner! The flowers must've wilted from the furnace heat."

"You," he says slowly, pinching your cheek and ignoring your squeak, "are the absolute worst. I can't believe you nearly broke my heart and it turned out to be a whoopsie."

#stardew x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #sdv alex x reader #stardew x farmer #stardew valley x farmer #sdv x farmer #sdv alex x farmer #stardew valley scenarios #sdv scenarios #sdv alex scenarios #stardew scenarios #saeri writes;

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erikahenningsen · 2 months

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rejanis #62 if you feel like it :)

62. “Do you have a ride home?”

Janis checks the weather forecast every day when she wakes up. And this morning, nowhere did it say anything about rain. But, well... the forecast was wrong.

Because it's pouring. An absolute deluge, its tap-tap-tap against the window like an ASMR get-ready-with-me video.

And Janis doesn't have an umbrella.

Not for the first time, Janis curses her parents for buying a house too close to the school for a school bus stop but far enough that she knows she's going to be dripping-wet-squishy-shoes soaked long before she gets home.

She's just crossed through the parking lot and is turning onto the sidewalk along the street when a Jeep rolls to a stop in front of her. Janis wipes back the hair plastered to her forehead with rainwater and squints as the window rolls down.

It's Regina.

"Do you have a ride home?" Regina asks.

"No, but I was due for a shower anyway, so..." Janis says.

Regina rolls her eyes and hits the unlock button on her door. "Get in the car."

"If you're kidnapping me you could at least say please," Janis says, because she has never outgrown the part of her that derives pleasure from goading Regina.

Regina stares at her for a moment before starting to roll the window back up.

"Wait, no," Janis caves, jumping forward and opening the car door before Regina can lock it again.

Regina's smirk turns to mild horror as she takes in just how drenched Janis is—and how much water is now seeping into the car seat and carpet.

"It's raining," Janis says unnecessarily.

"Thank you for the update." Regina puts the car into drive and pulls away from the curb.

Janis tries to remember the last time she was in Regina's car. Well—in a car with Regina, considering it was probably in middle school. She pulls down the sun visor to survey the damage to her makeup in the mirror.

"You look like a raccoon," Regina tells her, and... she's kind of right. "Here."

Janis accepts the napkin Regina pulls from the cup holder in the car door and wipes away the mascara and eyeliner as best she can.

They're stopped at a red light when Janis notices Regina looking at her.

"What?" Janis asks.

Regina quickly returns her eyes to the road. "Nothing."

Janis feels a little prickle of self-consciousness, something she seemingly never outgrew—craving Regina's approval, unsure if the lingering stares meant that Regina was silently assessing her or admiring her.

The car stops and it takes Janis a moment to realize they're in her driveway.

"You remember where I live?" Janis asks. She's not sure why that surprises her. She could get to Regina's house from her own with her eyes closed.

Regina doesn't answer, actually looking a little embarrassed. Maybe that's what prompts Janis to ask her next question.

"Do you want to come in?"

"Oh, uh..." Regina says, eyes wide. "Well..."

"You don't have to," Janis adds quickly when Regina can't seem to produce an answer. She feels kind of stupid for asking.

"I just... don't think your parents would be too thrilled to see me," Regina says quietly, and Janis knows she's right. "But maybe you could come over to my house sometime?"

Janis remembers Regina's cavernous house, feeling more like a staged showroom than a home, how lonely inside it Regina sometimes seemed, even with her mom constantly barging into the room. She wonders if anyone has come over to hang out with Regina since the bus.

"Sure," Janis says, and she means it. "When I don't look like you just pulled me out of a pond."

Regina snorts. "That would probably be best."

For the first time in years, they exchange smiles.

#rejanis #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls the musical #regina george #janis 'imi'ike #janis sarkisian #janis ian #i will never get tired of writing them intentionally annoying each other #ask #anonymous #prompts

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supernovafics · 10 months

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series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: asshole!steve, explicit language

summary: you're hoping for the best, perhaps even some sort of miracle, but from the first phone call to the first meeting, it's pretty clear that everything that has been said about him is oh so true

CHAPTER ONE | ❝𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉❞

Steve Harrington’s Newest Film Wins Big at Golden Globes but Actor nowhere to be found at the Awards Show… Partying in Vegas Instead? Full story here!

YouTuber calls Steve Harrington a “Jerk” and “Extremely rude” in podcast documenting her time working with him on the 2020 film “When the World Ends”

Steve Harrington: Another Pretentious Actor or Misunderstood Recluse?

Watch this video of Steve Harrington flipping off Paparazzi in NYC

You’d gone down somewhat of a rabbit hole.

And at first it was supposed to help you.

There was no problem you couldn’t solve, and this Steve Harrington problem was just another thing to check off of your never ending list. You were in search of any piece of information that would tell you that the next three months being his assistant would not be the absolute worst. Anything that said that he was at least somewhat of a good guy, that the narrative of him being an asshole wasn’t actually the only narrative out there.

However, you’d ended up feeling even more worried than how you initially felt when Jessie told you everything hours earlier. It seemed as if every article about him included something bad, and the only good thing they would say about him was how great of an actor he was— how he was close to being the next Leo DiCaprio, Joaquin Phoenix, etc etc— which you already knew and didn’t care that much about because that information wouldn’t help solve your problem. Him being a good actor didn’t mean that he had a good personality, and every single article seemed to tell you exactly that; except the paparazzi thing because that sounded completely justified since paparazzi sucked.

In the end, when you forced yourself out of the hole because it was nearing midnight and you had to wake up early, you convinced yourself that maybe all of those articles weren’t even completely true. It wouldn’t be the first time that celebrity news outlets exaggerated their stories to make them more interesting; maybe his reputation as an insanely rude person was actually not as true as it was portrayed to be. And you let that hopeful, and potentially delusional, thought put you to sleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jessie: Here’s Steve’s number

Jessie: Once again, thank you for doing this!

You’d forgotten that you asked her for his phone number last night during your deep dive of him.

You simply stared at it for a moment before texting Jessie back a quick “Thank you” and moving on to look at the other notifications that were taking over your phone; the slew of emails that came through in the middle of the night and early morning along with voicemails from calls you’d already missed because even though it was early for you, on the east coast it was already almost ten. It probably wasn’t healthy to wake up and immediately throw yourself into your work, but it felt like second nature at this point.

When there was somewhat of a lull in your day and you were sitting on your couch after enduring an hour-long Zoom call with the Executive Producers of the movie along with the heads of every department to make sure that everyone was on the same page for filming, you decided to finally call Steve. It felt slightly weird having to call him instead of a secondary person to talk about what you needed to, but you didn’t want to call his actual assistant who was probably not supposed to be thinking about her job right now.

You honestly didn’t expect him to answer, and you thought you’d have to leave a voicemail and hope that he’d get back to you sooner rather than later, but he answered on the fourth ring with a quick, “Hello?”

“Hey,” You responded and then tried to mask the surprise in your voice by letting out a small cough. “I got your number from Jessie Robbins. I’m going to be your assistant during the filming of Fear of Lonesome. My name is–”

“Doesn’t matter,” He interrupted you. “You said you’re going to be my new assistant?”

You still told him your name anyway and then answered his question. “Yes, just for the three months of filming. I wanted to call before it starts in a week. Just to get any numbers that are important, or if there’s any specific information I should know.”

He sighed as if he was completely annoyed by your voice and the fact that you were calling him right then. “My other assistant has all of that information. I’ll text you her number.”

“Um, okay, thanks. But–”

He hung up before you could finish your statement and you stared at your phone for a moment before dropping it next to you on the couch. That short interaction with him was more than enough to let you know that those articles you read last night were all so very true.

You let out a sigh in frustration and then another one when your phone pinged with a text message from him with the number of his real assistant. According to the text, her name was Sheila.

There was no way that you were going to call a pregnant woman that was on bedrest due to stress; stress that you quickly concluded was probably caused by this job and having to deal with Steve Harrington on a daily basis.

Therefore, you instead decided to text her, asking the same stuff that you’d just asked Steve, but barely five minutes from the moment you hit send, she called you.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I would’ve texted you back, but all of this felt like way too much to type,” She began and then immediately continued. “I sent Steve all of the information that the new assistant would need, and why I am not at all surprised that he didn’t give it to you. Text me your email and I’ll send you the folder. It has the numbers for everyone else on his team, and there’s also a calendar with all of his commitments and stuff for the next few months. It’s pretty empty because of filming, and he likes to fully prioritize that, but his publicist might throw something in here and there because he likes to force him to do some public events even though Steve despises them. So, I’d say just check it every now and again.”

That folder sounded like the holy grail. You could feel your frustrations slowly easing away. “Yes, thank you so much.”

“No problem. I hope that will make things a bit easier for you. Steve can be pretty intense most of the time,” Sheila said, and that made you further imagine what these three months would be like; signs were still pointing to bad.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Why is he…” You trailed off unsure of the best way to finish your question.

“An asshole?” Sheila concluded for you, and it was hard to bite back your laugh.

“I was gonna be slightly nice and just say rude, but yours works too.” You said, letting out another small laugh. “Why is he like that?”

“He’s just really serious. Never does much else but work. I swear I don’t remember the last time he did anything fun.”

Hearing that answer surprised you. It also meant that the Vegas article was definitely a stretch. You couldn’t help but wonder what the truth was, but you decided not to ask.

“How do you deal with him?”

Sheila was quiet for a moment, as if she was really thinking about her answer. “Eventually he’ll grow on you. Kinda like a fungus? Sorry, that was probably a horrible analogy.”

“No, that sounds like it’ll be accurate,” You said and then silently prayed that these months would fly by.

“If you’re ever confused or need anything, or just want to rant about him, don’t hesitate to call or text me. I’ll be stuck in the same place until this baby’s out of me.”

Sheila was really nice, and you could tell that she genuinely meant her words, but you didn’t want to have to bother her again; she deserved a break from all of this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’d woken up at five thirty in the morning on the first day of filming with a text from Steve.

It was his coffee and breakfast order and the name of the place that he wanted you to get it from.

Seeing that text from him almost made you want to laugh given that the last message you’d sent him was you thanking him for Sheila’s number which went unanswered.

There were a bunch of things that were already being thrown at you when you got onto set that morning, but you decidedly avoided it all to first head to Steve’s trailer.

You were determined to make the day go well; hoping that it would set a precedent for what the next few months would be like. And giving him his stupid coffee and breakfast order sounded like the best first thing to do to make sure that everything went well with you two.

When he opened the door after you gave it three quick knocks, you greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, good morning,” You said as you handed him the coffee and the bag with his breakfast sandwich. You then pulled out the folded piece of paper that had been in your back pocket, giving that to him as well. “The shooting schedule for today.”

“Mhm,” Steve said, placing the paper and bag down somewhere next to him. He took a sip of his coffee before pulling out his phone and focusing his attention on that. He glanced up at you for a brief moment and his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he was surprised you were still standing there. “I’ll call or text you if I need anything.”

Before you could say anything in response to that, he shut the door.

This was your life now.

In hindsight, maybe it was dumb of you to think that you’d have some sort of an actual introduction with him— especially with how the last, which had also been the first, time you talked to him went— but still, a small part of you had been hoping that you’d be proven wrong.

You were kind of over hoping for that now, though. Because at this point, it was pretty clear to you what he was like, and it would definitely be dumb of you to continue to hope for something different.

You’d dealt with an insane amount of rude people in Hollywood— actors, actresses, directors, pretty much anyone that at some point had some sort of seniority over you— and some of them had actually been worse than Steve. But there was something about this interaction that took the cake for you.

Maybe it was because those past moments had been one-offs. Yes, some random actor or Hollywood exec had been a dick to you, but it would be a rarity if you had to talk to them again. However, with Steve Harrington, you’d have to deal with him for the next three months.

You started walking away from his trailer and somehow almost immediately ran into Jessie.

She started to smile at you until she noticed the look on your face. “Oh no, you look mad. What’s happened already?”

You plastered on a fake smile. “Oh, everything’s going fine. I gave him his coffee and stupid breakfast sandwich, he said he’ll call or text if he needs anything, and then he closed the door in my face before I could say anything.” You dropped the smile and gave her a deadpan look. “I honestly don’t even think he knows my name.”

She grimaced before giving you a hopeful smile. “I’m so grateful for you. These months will speed by, I promise.”

“Ninety days and counting,” You said, trying to match her hopeful smile but it still felt too fake.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but your name being called on the small walkie talkie hanging from your back pocket interrupted her.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Jessie told you as she started heading in a different direction, and you nodded before grabbing your walkie talkie.

“Yeah, I’m here,” You responded, making your voice sound as light as possible. “What’s up?”

Darryl, who was the head of the art department, proceeded to tell you that an important part of the set had yet to be delivered and they couldn’t finish preparing the set that would be used in today’s scenes without it.

You let out a sigh as you took a quick glance at your watch; 7:30am. “I talked to the delivery company yesterday and they said they’d have it here by 7. I’ll call them again right now, and I’m headed to you now too.”

Even with the immediate stress you felt from this situation that you now needed to fix, it somehow still felt easier than having to deal with Steve. For the time being, you could focus fully on your actual job and keep your mind far away from him. Until he ultimately needed you for something, and the thought of that made you inwardly roll your eyes.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When your phone pinged with a notification you expected it to be something from Steve. Even though you’d given him the lunch he requested barely an hour ago, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he wanted something else. Instead, it was a notification that his calendar had been updated.

His publicist, whose name you learned as Tom, put an interview on the schedule for today; an interview that Steve would need to get to in three hours. Sheila was very right when she said that he’d just randomly add things to the calendar.

Filming for the day wasn’t over yet and was still supposed to go on for a while, but you were already thinking of ways to somehow make this work. And as you headed to Steve’s trailer that was the only thing on your mind.

Your knuckles rapped on the door a few times and you could hear his voice through the door yell out a loud,“Yeah?”

You took that as your cue to enter instead of waiting for him to open the door, which you assumed would never happen.

He was sitting on the small couch that took up the farthest part of the trailer with headphones in his ears and a script in his hand that had his full attention. He pulled one headphone out and looked at you.

“Tom set up this interview thing with BuzzFeed for today. It’s in about three hours. I can tell Jessie that we have to end filming a bit earlier today, which should be fine if we–”

“No,” He interrupted you with a shake of his head, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of how often that was happening. “Tell Tom I’m not gonna do that.”

You looked at him, confused. “What? Is that allowed?”

Steve shrugged. “He’ll deal with it.”

You almost asked him why he was refusing the interview, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t give you an answer and he’d probably just get annoyed at you.

“Alright then,” You said instead as you started opening the door. “I’ll call him now.”

Steve simply nodded at you before putting his headphone back in and turning his attention to the script again.

The phone only rang a few times before you were met with a British voice saying, “Hello?”

“Hi, yes, I’m Steve’s assistant for the time being,” You said, quickly introducing yourself because you wanted to get to the point of the call as fast as possible. “He said he’s not gonna do the interview that you set up for today. Um, sorry.”

You weren’t entirely sure why you were saying sorry, but it felt awkward having to do this, especially since Steve gave you no reasoning as to why he said no.

“Of course he did,” Tom said with a scoff. “I swear to God this kid is gonna drive me to start smoking again, and my husband would kill me if I did. Fucking hell.” You were unsure if he was talking more to you or himself. “Are you with Steve right now?”

It was easy to tell that that question was directed at you.

“No, not anymore, but I can relay any message you’d like me to give to him, if you want?”

“Yes, tell him that this is the last time he’s gonna pull this shit. No more fucking back out of things that are meant to help his career. We are not having another fucking Golden Globes incident,” He said, and with the amount of irritation behind his words, it almost felt as if it was you that was being scolded by this British man.

“Got it, I’ll tell him that,” You responded, although you knew when you gave the message you’d probably make it sound a bit less profane and angry.

Hearing him mention the Golden Globes made you think of something. You knew that Steve had ditched the awards show, but the actual reasoning why was still a mystery to you. And you had to admit, you were a bit curious; just like the rest of the film world. “Can I ask what the whole Golden Globes thing was about?”

Tom let out the longest sigh in the world before saying, “He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay home.”

You laughed at that because you assumed that he was joking, but when you were met with nothing but silence you stopped. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Sadly so serious,” He told you and then sighed again. “And just like you barely believed that, of course no news outlets would think that was the reason either, so they pulled any story out of their asses. Like, he’d actually go to Vegas? Jesus Christ.” He muttered something else under his breath that was too hard for you to make out. “And it was hard to play the sick angle because no one would believe that unless he was actually hospitalized, and doing that felt a bit too dramatic.”

All of that information was a lot to take in, but you still nodded even though Tom couldn’t see you.

“Wow, that’s, um, really… Wow.” You ultimately settled on saying, which was barely even a real sentence and you mentally kicked yourself for being at such a loss for words right then.

“Yeah, that was definitely the best twenty-four hours of my life,” He said and you could easily hear the sarcasm dripping from every one of his words. “Actually, disregard giving that other message to him, I’ll just yell at him later. When is filming done for the day?”

You looked at your watch and then let out your own sigh. “In four hours.”

“Okay, got it,” Tom responded, and you assumed the conversation was going to end there, but then he continued. “How’s he been to you so far?”

Surprisingly, the question actually felt genuine and it made you feel as if you didn’t need to lie and make things sound better than how they actually had been. “He looks at me as if he hates me, so it’s been fun having to endure that for the past seven hours.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just his face. He probably doesn’t actually hate you.”

There was something about Tom’s response that made you laugh. “Okay, so when should I know for sure? If he throws his coffee in my face or if he murders me? Well, I guess if he murdered me I’d be finding out a little too late, but at least I’d be able to haunt him.”

“You’re funny,” He said with a chuckle. “I wish we could keep you around longer.”

“Do not put that out into the universe.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington series #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things series #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

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blainesebastian · 1 year

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you fit right here (ccg universe)

words: 4,059 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (combined requests): anon requested: "first red carpet with Austin, anxiety and panic attack" + @aloversblog requested "paps accidently hurt the reader and austin is protective" notes: tweaked the prompt here and there but the general premise is the same! ccg universe but for the most part, could be read alone warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylesmendeshearted, @rairaielv

Sometimes on lazy Sunday mornings, when the sun hasn’t even pushed through the curtains yet, you find yourself thinking a lot about what’s happened to you in a short period of time and how you have to convince yourself that you’re not dreaming. No one wrote a how-to guide about what it was going to be like to date a celebrity and admittedly you’re figuring it out one step at a time. It’s definitely not always easy or what you expected but you find you wouldn’t trade it for anything either, even when you’re not quite sure how you fit into Austin’s world.

That isn’t to say that he hasn’t carved out space for you, because he has, but you worry that it won’t always make a difference. There are plenty of places in which you stick out, requesting that sense of belonging that is automatically given to others who have already earned it. It’ll take time, you know that, but it doesn’t remove the anxiety and waves of frustration as much as you’d like.

“You’re aware of how much that’s in your head?” Jillian, one of your best friends, had told you once. “Austin clearly doesn’t care and neither should you.”

And she’s right, you know she’s right. Austin doesn’t want you to be an actress, or the kid of a famous producer, a model, wrapped up in a celebrity story or Hollywood cautionary tale—he simply wants you to be you. No changes, no strings attached.

You let out a soft sigh as you press your cheek into your pillow, turning onto your one side.

You’re still working on accepting that.

Reaching over onto your nightstand, you turn your alarm off before it can interrupt the morning stillness. The mattress shifts underneath you as Austin turns, a soft shiver running down your spine as he wraps an arm around your torso. He shifts closer, letting out a long breath from his nose that flutters against the back of your neck. You can’t stop the smile from tugging the corners of your mouth as warmth pools in your stomach, working its way down to your knees.

This has to be one of your favorite morning routines, the slow morning wake-up, the way Austin’s body feels against your own, solid weight and soft skin. He presses a few kisses into your shoulder, mapping across until his nose and lips dip into a crevice near your neck—

You squirm a little, a soft huff leaving your mouth, “Stop—I’m ticklish there.” Though there’s really no indication in your voice that you actually want him to stop.

Austin smirks lightly but backs off, “I know.”

His hand slips down along your side, arm muscles flexing a little as he pulls you closer. Your head tips back, fitting perfectly against his shoulder, shifting so that your nose and lips brush along his jawline. You plant a kiss there, your hand settling along his own, tracing his fingers with your thumb.

“You got in late last night.”

He nods, brushing his lips on your temple, “Had a few drinks with some castmates after the late night talk show. I was gonna call you but—already knew what your answer would be.”

You chuckle lightly, amused—he definitely knows you. It was probably at least eleven, maybe even midnight. You were wrapped up in a burrito blanket by then. “Was it a good time?”

“Would have been better with you,” He squeezes you briefly, “I didn’t wake you when I came in, did I?”

You shake your head, turning so that you can face him. His touch slips down along your back and a pleasant noise leaves your lips as your hand moves up and under his shirt, “Barely, just remember you gettin’ into bed. Definitely not like that one time where you tripped over the comforter.”

Austin groans, tipping his head back a little in an eyeroll that makes you laugh, “Never gonna live that one down.”

“You knocked over the nightstand, almost squished my cat.”

“He was perfectly fine,” He attempts to kiss you but you playfully move your head in the opposite direction a few times. He grins before he finally clasps your chin between his fingers, keeping you still, and leans down to press his lips against yours.

“You want breakfast?” You ask, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his full lower lip.

He plants a kiss to the pad of your thumb before shaking his head, “Gonna sleep a bit more, got that fashion event tonight and that always comes with an after party.”

There’s a slight eyeroll before he lifts his hand to run it over his face, a yawn slipping out of his mouth. God, that’s right. You completely forgot about that fashion thing that Austin invited you to as his guest, and a small pit begins to build in your stomach. While you’ve gone with him to plenty Elvis red carpet events, this is the first one you’ll be attending that has nothing to do with his film. There’s a certain comfort that’s automatically gone—at least with Elvis events, you felt like people knew you, maybe there was even some less judgement given that you were on the same set as everyone else through filming.

This though is completely different—your first outside event as a couple. Nerve-wracking for a bunch of reasons you can name and even more that you can’t.

Austin tilts his head a little, looking down at you, his hand trailing up and down your arm, “You’re shaking.”

You swallow, pushing those thoughts away as you give him a soft smile, “Just cold.”

He hums lightly, holding your gaze as he tugs the blanket up to cover you a bit more. He doesn’t quite look like he believes you but he doesn’t press either. Instead, he continues to rub your arm, creating small, patterned circles with his fingers.

Austin’s quiet for a few moments, both of you lingering in touches and shared breathing. You’re almost convinced he’s fallen back asleep but you know he’s just giving you time to consider words in your mouth.

“I have no idea what to do with myself for tonight.”

There’s a soft smile on his lips, as if he might have considered you’d say something like that, “I asked one of my stylists to come over, she’s worked with me on a few past events. You’ll like her,” He brushes hair over your shoulder, “She’s nice.”

You offer him a small nod, the twinge of your lips tugging up into a tired smile. You appreciate the gesture, you know he’s trying his best to make you feel comfortable but you can’t help but feel as if you’re beating down waves of imposter syndrome. Maybe a bit more sleep for yourself wouldn’t hurt either, time to approach this event head on.

You deserve to attend it as Austin’s guest, not only that, but you deserve how happy Austin makes you as his girlfriend.

“C’mere,” He whispers, encouraging you to lean against him as he turns to lie on his back. Letting out a soft sigh, you drape your arm across his waist, molding yourself along his chest. You fit directly under his chin, like a puzzle piece slipping into place.

Your eyes flutter closed as you memorize the sound of his breathing, the thumping of his heartbeat lulling you back to sleep.

Penny, as it turns out, is definitely one of the nicest people you’ve met in the industry. You suppose you shouldn’t have suspected any less when Austin said he’d worked with her in the past. She’s not pushy or judgmental when she arrives, which maybe you were a little bit afraid of. You’ve experienced stylists on set that can offer crude feedback as if they’re doing you the favor of being critical.

This lovely older woman is the exact opposite—she brings a selection of dresses that match what Austin’s going to wear, which is a navy pin-stripe suit, and then tells you to pick whatever shade of makeup you think your skin tone wears best and she’ll provide a series of options for ‘looks’. When you choose a silver dress, she suggests brown shades for eyeshadow and lipstick with a hint of sparkle just to tie everything together.

You really appreciate her attention to detail.

“Austin is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever worked with,” Penny tells you as she takes your hair out of a heated curler, “He listens and speaks with intention, you know? Doesn’t matter who you are.”

You hum lightly, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. Not a lot has changed, not some big movie reveal or something like that. Just you with your hair curled and makeup professionally done, a mix of soft neutrals and silver highlights.

“Yeah, he’s wonderful,” You agree, smiling at her through the mirror, “It’s one of the things I love about him.”

She smiles, taking another curler out. She then reaches for a big round brush, slipping the prongs through your locks to give the waves body. A bit of hairspray…then all done.

“You should know, he talks quite a bit about you too.” Penny takes a step back, giving you a onceover. “Nothing but proud of you.”

You can’t stop your cheeks from kissing pink, shaking your head because you’re still working on accepting sentiments like that. That you do, in fact, deserve them. Taking a breath, you stand from the chair and move to go put your dress on—you’ve got about a half n hour before you have to get going to make the event on time. Which is apparently the fashionable ‘ten minutes late’ sort of thing.

“Well thank you,” You smile as Penny reaches for your hands to squeeze, “I really appreciate it.”

“I didn’t do too much,” She laughs, “You’re beautiful darling—I just added some sparkle.”

You swallow, holding her gaze for a long moment and suddenly you feel compelled to tell her this fear that’s been sitting in your chest like a flurry of moths, gnawing holes into your ribs.

“This is the first event that I’m going to as Austin’s girlfriend outside of Elvis and…” You hesitate, wondering if it sounds silly or foolish. “I’m just not sure how I fit.” And then you realize that…probably requires some sort of explanation or…evidence of support?

You shake your head, getting ready to take the whole conversation back when Penny moves a step forward with a somewhat knowing smile. She places a hand on your chest, right over your heart,

“For Austin, you fit right here—okay?” You hold Penny’s gaze for a long moment and nod because…even though you know that? For some reason, you really needed to hear it. It doesn’t completely remove all your apprehension, but it does help. “That’s all that matters.”

Hoping to keep as much comfort as this conversation provides in your back pocket, you move to get finished for tonight’s event.

Despite the fact that Austin isn’t on social media very much, when you move to get into the SUV to leave, he snaps a candid of you to put on his Instagram story.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” He says, pocketing his phone.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you approach him, resting your hand on his chest. “Stop.”

He’s really one to talk—he looks perfect, like straight out of a GQ magazine or something. The suit hugs him attractively, making your stomach swoop down to your knees, heat settling between your legs.

He hums, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you close, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, “Really nothin’ compared to what you had on last night before bed, but—”

You playfully push on his chest to get him to stop talking, a pretty flush resting on your cheeks.

Austin smiles, pulling the SUV door open for you to slip inside. The ride to the event is quiet, traffic a bit busy which…just ends up making your anxiety worse, the entire thing lengthened every time you stop at a red light. Running one of your hands nervously along your dress, you play with the soft fabric between your fingers, swallowing over your heartbeat in your ears as you look out the window.

You know it’s ridiculous to be scared about this red-carpet event—you know how Austin feels about you, you deserve to be there by his side, and even though others might see it differently? It doesn’t matter. The last thing you want to do is have Austin think that you can’t handle this.

“Y/N.”

You blink, turning your head to look at Austin who…seems like he’s been talking to you and you hadn’t even heard him. “What?”

His eyebrows crinkle together, his one hand moving across the middle of the backseat to rest over yours, “You alright?”

“Yeah, m’fine.” You give him a soft smile.

He holds your gaze for a long moment but doesn’t press, you’re sure he doesn’t believe you. “You know, we don’t have to stay at this thing for very long. I pretty much just need to be seen, talk to a few cameras, answer some questions, mingle after a few drinks.”

There’s a way out there, you can sense it but…really, you’re sure you’ll be fine after you have a glass or two of wine yourself. Just need to settle the nerves, take some deep breaths, follow Austin’s lead. It’ll be fine.

And you completely believe that until you begin to pull up, a block away, and see the massive crowd of people. Not just celebrities exiting their cars and walking onto the carpet, but a sea of fans embanked on both sides, lines upon lines of photographers and interviewers and—

Your heart begins pounding in your ears louder than before as the SUV pulls out of traffic to let you out and suddenly you feel utterly naked underneath this dress, a fraud, and it seems like something so obvious, tattooed on your forehead for everyone to see. You gulp down a breath, reaching a shaking hand for Austin’s forearm as he begins to open the door,

“Wait,” You choke out, “I can’t do this.”

Austin draws himself back into the SUV, frowning as he reaches to touch your shoulder, “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

A harsh laugh leaves your lips and you straighten your shoulders, almost wanting to get out of the car because it doesn’t feel like oxygen is circulating into your lungs. Like the dress is too tight and you just want to tear it right off your skin, or move, something to stop your hands from shaking.

“No, it’s not—I can’t breathe.”

“Hey,” Both of Austin’s hands settle firmly on your shoulders, squeezing, preventing you from pulling away, “You’re okay, shh, just breathe.”

“I c-can’t,” Your hand falls to your chest, taking in a pathetic breath, your head spinning. Your eyes begin to fill with tears as you panic and Austin shakes his head gently, inching closer to you in the back seat.

“Yes you can,” He assures, voice gentle, smooth like honey, “Look at me, you’re okay. Take a slow breath, try and hold it in your lungs.”

Your eyes seek out Austin’s gaze, calm and collected, and somehow that helps you do exactly as he asks. You draw a deep breath in your lungs, hold it, and then let it out. It’s shaky at first but it does the trick, the next breath easier than the last.

“There you go,” He whispers, bringing his hand up to stroke through your hair, settling along your neck as you calm down.

You sniffle, running your fingers along the underside of your one eye, trying so carefully not to mess up any makeup even though you feel like a splotched mess. Shaking your head, you allow Austin’s hand to slip around the back of your neck and pull you into his chest. You feel relief flood through your system, your eyes closing as you rest against him, face tucked into his neck.

He strokes a hand up and down your back, letting you take some time to breathe easier for a few minutes before,

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were feelin’ uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look at him. You can’t imagine how much of a mess you must look like now, all of Penny’s work gone to waste. “Because I was bein’ ridiculous.”

Austin shakes his head, lacing your fingers with his, “Don’t do that,” He says gently, “Your feelings are not ridiculous.”

You sniffle again, glancing down at the silver accent jewelry he has on, the cool metal of his rings pressing against your skin. “I just—I’ve been to events with you before, I don’t understand why this one has me so wigged out.”

Austin leans his shoulder against the backseat, glancing out the back window at the event down the street. Flashes of cameras, the roar of the crowd, the brightness of the lights. He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand for a few moments,

“I understand more than anyone how overwhelming it can be, there’s no shame in that.” He offers you a soft smile, picking your hand up and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “There’s no timeline on this thing, you can take as much or as little as you need.”

His words plant seeds of comfort in your chest and it does make you feel better to know where his head is at with this whole thing. There’s a slight bit of foolishness heating the back of your neck because…a lot of this probably could have been avoided if you just would have talked to him in the first place. You replay his words a few times over in your mind and he’s right. There’s no blueprint to this thing, you gotta figure it out for yourself.

And what better way to do it than with Austin by your side?

Giving him a genuine smile, you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you.”

Austin smiles back, squeezing your hand in his before motioning towards the event with a slight head nod, “Want to try again?”

And you know if you asked, you could skip this event with Austin altogether. But that’s the last thing you want to do. So you draw a soft breath into your chest and nod, pulling out a small compact to check your makeup, wipe away any smudges, and reapply a bit of lipstick. Turning in your seat, you open the SUV door and climb out, meeting Austin halfway.

He takes your hand into his again, easily lacing your fingers. Austin had once told you—the only opinions that matter are here in this trailer. You and me.

With that thought settling warmly in your chest, you straighten your shoulders, squeeze Austin’s hand and walk towards the red-carpet.

All in all, the event itself goes pretty smoothly. You don’t let yourself worry about how you're perceived by others, about what people might think about your relationship with Austin, whether they might ‘speculate’ about where you belong, where you fit. But it's right there, right next to Austin, your hands joined together as you walk down the carpet towards the event.

There's pausing every so often for photographs and interviews, but Austin always makes sure to include you. You hope he understands that it's not necessary, that you understand that you're still dipping your toes into this world, that Austin's place is a bit more etched out. After photos of him are taken, he opens his arm out towards you, inviting you to stand right next to him. When questions are thrown his way, he draws you into talking, or brings up the script you're writing.

Penny was right, he is proud of you—you can see it as plain as day on his face, the way his eyes kinda light up when you speak. It means more to you than you can put into words.

The event itself is fun—you mingle, have drinks, meet people in the industry that aren't just interested in you being Austin's girlfriend. You’re pleasantly surprised and feel a warm glow about the entire night wrap around you as you leave with Austin after a few hours. He shrugs off his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders as he takes a look down the carpet for his usual driver.

There's a few lingering paps, getting photographs and attempting to ask questions about where you’re going for the night, if there's any other after parties that you’re interested in going to. You kinda let out a soft laugh because—you're interested in going home, maybe grabbing a large pizza and a bottle of wine.

Austin shares a look with you, giving you a smile—he knows you well.

You've learned, for the most part, that paps keep their distance while asking questions and taking photos but you also know that there's a select few that don't care about personal space. They want that one shot, that one question that'll set them apart from others, and unfortunately you can feel someone come up from behind you as you and Austin walk towards the curb to cross the street to where the SUV is parked.

It's a bad combination of not enough space and you looking over your shoulder instead of where you're stepping and you misjudge the curb, twisting your ankle. A sharp noise leaves your lips and you grab onto Austin's arm to steady yourself so you don't hit the pavement. And you think it'd be enough for the pap to back off but he keeps coming, shoving the camera in your face, reaching out his hand to...help maybe? You're not sure. Either way, Austin isn't having it.

"Don't touch her," He puts an arm out to create a barrier between you and the pap.

"Was an accident Austin," The pap replies, lowering his camera. You frown, lifting your ankle to briefly rub at the bone before putting your foot back on the ground again. Not terrible, you can walk on it.

"I don't care if it was an accident or not, you need to put some distance between yourself and my girlfriend, man. There's a certain respect that goes a long way."

You gently squeeze onto his forearm to assure him it's fine, but the pap at least seems to understand that, nodding before he backs up. Austin helps you cross the street, opening the door for you to get in, a breath of relief leaving your lips as the SUV pulls out into traffic and you head back home.

You sigh gently from the corner of your couch, in your pjs, with fuzzy socks absolutely needed. Your ankle is propped up on a small pillow, Austin coming over and shaking an ice pack before wrapping it in a dish towel. He gently lifts the pillow and slides underneath so that he’s sitting next to you, your ankle on his lap.

“Think it’ll need amputated or are you gonna make it?” He teases, the warm palm of his hand resting along your leg as he gently positions the ice pack.

A short laugh leaves your lips, “Are you calling me dramatic?” You crinkle your nose at him but you’re smiling, “I’m not the one who was yelling at the pap.”

Austin rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. He’s got these large curls near his forehead today—literally unfair how beautiful he is. “Yeah, well, should be no surprise at this point that I’m protective of you.”

Giving your boyfriend a soft smile, something warm blooming in your chest, you reposition yourself to lean over and plant a kiss on his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. Austin hums lightly, turning chin to rest his lips along your forehead, a ghost of a kiss too.

Despite how the day started out, the nerves threatening to spill over, and now the swollen ankle—not a bad way to end the night. You certainly wouldn’t trade it for anything else. This, after all, is exactly where you fit. Right against Austin, perfectly.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg

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