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blainesebastian · 5 months

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something real

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

“You’re losing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the gigolo’s name?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So your request said a wedding?”

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

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

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

“Have you…done weddings before?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet—

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

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

“Okay,” Austin smiles, “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you can’t help but grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he’s already a decent actor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because why the hell not?

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

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

“Challenge accepted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not sure you want to know.

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

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

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

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

“What do you want to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because we match.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t move.”

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

“A lot of beige.”

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

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

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

“It’s just not what I pictured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get your shoes. We’re already late.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you do.

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe this is all in your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then it has to come from you first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost wish that was the case, instead.

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

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

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

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

It's all a lie.

A lie that you paid for.

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

“Todd.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a couple her and Todd make.

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

Just feels like a big mistake.

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

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

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

What if all of this is one weird dream?

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

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

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

“In that order? That’s so boring.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You stayed.”

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

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

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

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

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

You’re just glad you didn’t vomit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He waits.

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

Then it has to come from you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You finally figure out what you want—

and you want this. You want him.

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

Y/N: I think I messed up.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: I can’t, he’s still here

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

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

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

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

Jill: so what is the point?

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

“Y/N?” Austin asks, “You alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—

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

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

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

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

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

“No—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can’t possibly leave like this, right?

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

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

You don’t go after him.

Time goes on.

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

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

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

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

“I got your twenty texts, you alright?”

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

“I screwed up.”

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

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

“Damn, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe not missing, exactly, but lying dormant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not again.

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

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

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

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

It’s his turn.

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

He doesn’t come after you.

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

“No,” You crinkle your nose.

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

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

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

And blink because—

“Austin.”

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

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

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

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

Maybe not heal, scar at the very least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you blink, “What?”

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

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

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

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

When you don’t—

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

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

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

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

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

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canmom · 7 months

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Exordia - advance review

So. I finished the book!

This is not everything I will write about Exordia. That will come when the book is like, officially out, and I feel comfy spelling out the ending and quoting passages at length.

This 'advance review' is split into two parts. The first part is quite abstract, so I'll copy it here.

If Baru took an elliptical path towards its subject matter, by defamiliarising and rearranging the material of history… Exordia just gets straight in there.

How to describe Exordia? Maybe you could call it philosophy-driven science fiction, a thought experiment about ethics. Maybe you could compare it to Arrival, but shot up with black humour (it’s a book that could make me laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time) and real tragedy (at the core is the genocide of the Kurds in the late 80s, and the many betrayals and failures of American imperialism). It’s got a lot of action and military details, with a good few spies and soldiers as central characters, but broadly it’s one of the sharpest eviscerations of the US military and its role in the world I’ve encountered in Western science fiction.

The first two thirds or so lay out the driving, fascinating ‘what the hell is this thing’ mystery lined with all manner of juicy body horror and drama—yet the core high-concept premise is laid out almost immediately, you know what's at stake. The last third… escalates.

It’s full of the usual meaty Seth themes, iterating on the ideas first laid out in Baru. But it’s a distinct flavour of its own. That escalation is… well, I can’t describe in detail, not while the book isn’t even out, but it’s nuts. Not just for the scale, but for how convincingly it sells concepts that if I described them straightforwardly would sound completely ridiculous.

Equally, it’s a study of a markedly diverse group of characters thrown together from all over the world, each constructed with very evident care and nuance. It goes places that so many writers would probably feel ‘damn, that’s probably way too thorny for someone like me to write about’—and yet somehow, it manages to handle it gracefully each time. Certainly, you can perhaps inevitably tell when Seth is writing from direct experience and when they are (as they used to say back in the ’10s) Writing The Other, if only through what they assume you know and what they need to explain as much as everything—and yet there are always all these telling details (the scientist cursing out R) that make these characters come alive with convincing presence and humour.

(Of course the autistic-ass lesbians are my faves. It’s not as overtly a Lesbian Book as Baru was, but there’s a strong current of gay shit.)

A few other reviewers mention Crichton, but I haven’t read Crichton, so… I’ll have to make other comparisons. But then the thing is it’s very self-aware about existing in the fabric of science fiction. This book is set in our world, not in the near future but the recent past, in the late Obama administration. A lot of the things you might compare it to (including a couple I’ve mentioned, Arrival, Crichton) will be invoked as explicit, in-character allusions as these very sharp, funny, modern people try to make sense of their crazy situation. Sometimes it feels like Tamsyn’s use of memes as texture, but it never gets overbearing. The rhythms of Seth’s prose have been refined by Baru into a powerful suite of devices to make you cackle and go, noooo, Seetttthhhhh…

It’s a fascinating blend of hard-ish scifi, with the big ideas carried by surprisingly accurate higher-mathematical technobabble, and what you could probably best call occultism: narrative and ethics and gods and mythology. Seth always tends to deflect when praised for their ability to hop between a dozen different disciplines and pull them together into one unifying story, saying that they’re just good at looking up summaries, or that they had help from the right people. Maybe so, but it works, it passes the smell test, and Seth’s real genius is their remarkable ability to tie all these big grand ideas back into the world of character and emotion.

Since this is an advance review… I gotta be careful how much I say! Usually I assume you’ve read it if you’re going to and dive straight into the spoilers and long quotes, but here I feel like I should take a little care to avoid describing too precisely the exact beats of the story. (Rest assured I will give it the thorough treatment when it comes out in full).

But, I feel like I want to say something a little more substantial. So here’s a description of the mechanism. If all you want to know is whether you should read this book, hopefully I’ve given you plenty of reasons that the answer is god, yes, do it. If you want to know more, read on.

#baru cormorant #exordia #fiction #sff #seth dickinson #advance review

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cockslutpadalecki · 1 year

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The Unexpected Valentine

Summary: When you decide to spend your ruined Valentines getaway alone, you’re thankful for the peace and quiet but when a mysterious stranger catches your eye, your Valentines weekend turns out better than you ever imagined.

Characters: SilverFox!CEO!Steve Rogers x F!Reader.

Words: 2.2K.

Warnings: heavy flirting, sex in a hot tub, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Formerly a Patreon exclusive. Tried to post last night, but the post editor is being a douchebag. Not beta’ed so all errors, spelling mistakes and general bullshit are entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

Smoothing out your dress, you take in the image of yourself in the small mirror hanging in the corner of the room. Your hair and makeup are by no means flawless, and the outfit you’ve chosen to wear to dinner is smart, but comfortable.

You don’t need to dress up to impress anyone, choosing to spend the short vacation by yourself, and personally you feel like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made. Initially Hoyt was going to join you at the five star ski resort to celebrate Valentines together, but after a particularly messy break up, you decide to still make the most of the trip.

It worried you in the lead up that it would do more harm than good— reminding you of a better time spent with your slimy ex-boyfriend, but actually, the time away has so far been refreshing. Plus, being out on the slopes in the fresh Colorado air has really helped to clear your head.

You didn’t even mind dining on your own. At first the stares and prying eyes were unnerving, but you soon forgot about them once you tucked into the decadent food and sipped on the exquisite wine.

You give yourself one last look, a satisfied smile on your lips before leaving the room, stomach well and truly rumbling.

The restaurant on the hotel’s premises is bustling. Every table is full, except for the one you reserved the day you arrived. You waltz between the fancy oak, a small murmur buzzing along behind you as diners whisper to themselves. Once at your own table, you slide smoothly into your chair, reaching for the water jug and pouring yourself a glass. Bringing it to your lips, you take a little glance around you, suddenly noticing a pair of bright cerulean eyes locked on you from across the room.

The man accompanying the piercing stare flashes you a wide smile before glancing away, mindlessly forking some food around on his plate. A coy smirk still pulls at the corners of his lips which leaves you a little flustered. You haven’t seen him around the resort at all since you got here three days ago, and the sight of him makes your entire body tingle.

To try and take your mind off of Blue Eyes in the corner, you pick up a menu as the waiter approaches you.

“Good evening Madam, would you like to hear tonight’s specials?” he asks politely.

“No, thank you. I’ll just have the soup to start,” you glance over the menu one last time, “and hm, lets try the lobster tonight please.”

“Any sides for the table, ma’am?”

“No, I think I’ll be fine, thank you,” you beam, passing him your now closed menu.

He takes it from you whilst returning your gesture, smiling down at you. “And to drink?”

“I’ve gotten quite fond of the house red.”

“As you wish, I’ll be right back with your wine,” he smiles again before you catch the eye of Blue Eyes from the corner now standing in front of your table.

“I find it hard to believe you’re here alone,” he says softly. You can’t explain it, but there’s something about him that instantly makes every vein in your body sing.

You keep your reply clipped, “How so?”

“A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be wasted.”

Normally such a cliché line would’ve made you send him packing, but his charisma is infectious and you find yourself offering him the spare seat opposite.

“Thank you,” he says with gratitude as he sinks down into the chair, flashing you a perfectly white smile.

“No need. Figured you’d need some company if you’re having to resort to cheesy pick up lines like that,” you sass.

The man laughs, holding his hand out across the table for you to take, introducing himself. “I’m Steve.”

You tell him your name, instantly mesmerised by just how blue his eyes are up close. It’s only now you notice the small flecks of silver peppering his beard and stray strands around his hairline.

You exchange pleasantries for a while, nothing too deep for a first encounter, but you enjoy talking to him nonetheless. Steve’s incredibly laid-back, and there’s an air of cockiness to him but it somehow doesn’t come across as arrogance. He’s enticing and debonair, a true gentleman and when he insists on walking you to your room, he seeks your permission to give you a kiss goodnight— on the cheek no less.

As he pulls away, Steve asks if he can take you to dinner tomorrow night.

“Not downstairs”, he clarifies quickly when he notices you’re about to counter his offer. “A proper one in town.”

You’re hesitant, but when Steve places a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, the word, “yes,” is out of your mouth before you can stop it.

The restaurant Steve picks is, in a word, expensive. Even a bottle of wine costs more than what you earn in a week, and when it was time to pick something to drink, you hurriedly chose the cheapest item on the vast wine list.

You feel guilty just glancing at the menu, indecisive about whether to pick the cheapest dish— no doubt making him think you’re poor, or choose the most extravagant, and worry that he’ll believe you’re too high maintenance.

Ugh, you shake your head, scolding yourself for thinking too much into the situation, reminding yourself this is just a casual dinner. No expectations or provisos. Stop panicking.

As the waiter heads over, you settle on a starter and main, and order both quickly, almost fearful of Steve’s judgment on what you’ve picked. You brave a glance at the man across the table, but he’s simply smiling, those steely blue eyes focused on you like you’re the only other person in the room.

“And for you, Sir?” The waiter next to Steve asks, ready and poised to take his order on the small PDA in his hand.

“I’ll just have the same,” Steve replies, breaking eye contact with you for a split second to smile up at him.

“Right you are, Sir.” He inputs the selections quickly, grabbing up the menus Steve holds up for him before leaving you both alone.

“So, if it’s not too forward of me, can I ask you a question?” Steve asks once the waiter is out of earshot, his eyes cast down at the table.

“Depends.”

He finally looks up at you through heavy eyelashes. “On what?”

“How personal a question it is.”

Steve grins wide, reaching for his whiskey tumbler as he cocks his head, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. You can tell he’s amused by you, and that gives you an instant confidence boost.

“Shoot,” you invite sweetly.

“How come you were dining alone last night?”

You shrug. “Was supposed to be here with my boyfriend,” you start, and the dejected look in Steve’s eye is not lost on you, “but he decided he’d rather spend Valentine's balls deep in someone else.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he offers, “but I can’t help being a little thankful.”

“For what?”

“Well if you were here with him, I would never have had the pleasure of your company.”

You nod, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you raise your glass and toast the room. “Touché.” You take a large gulp of the claret liquid swirling around in your glass before asking Steve, “So, what about you? Ex-girlfriend mess you around too?”

But before he has a chance to answer, the maitre d who seated you at the beginning of the evening swans up to the table, wearing his widest smile.

“Good evening Mr. Rogers, I trust everything is to your satisfaction,” he presumes with hope.

“Always is, Frank,” Steve returns kindly, moving his hand out in front of him for the other man to take. You notice the discreet but crumpled fifty within Steve’s palm, but don’t think to question it.

They converse back and forth for a short while, and you can tell Steve is trying to keep his answers brief so Frank will soon leave you in peace. Finally, Frank bids you both a good night and strides off, eventually dropping out of sight.

“Mr. Rogers? What do you like, own the place or something?” you throw out casually before taking another sip of wine.

“Most of the buildings in town actually.”

You almost choke on the liquid you’re swallowing, not expecting the answer you get. “Sorry, I-I had no idea.”

“I don’t really tend to brag about my acquisitions,” Steve flashes you a coquettish smile, “unless it works in my favour, of course.”

“And what favours might those be?” you flirt back.

“Hm,” he ponders, “sexual ones.”

“I see.”

There’s an almost uncomfortable silence. You appreciate that Steve doesn’t outright assume you’d be that easy, but at the same time you’re conflicted, feeling a little put out. Pushing through it, you steer the conversation back to Steve’s empire.

“So,” you point towards the window, indicating the row of buildings across the street, “which exactly are yours then?”

“Well, there’s this place, the restaurant down the street, the ski lodge—”

“What happened to not bragging?” you chuckle dryly.

Steve shrugs, a light smirk on his lips. “Is it working in my favour yet?”

The ride back to Steve’s lodge overlooking the small, quaint town is messy and frantic. His lips are on yours the moment you slide into the backseat, and for a second you fear what the driver might say, but Steve, sensing your apprehension, assures you into the column of your neck that there’s nothing to worry about.

You pay little attention to the stunning views as you travel further up the mountain, too absorbed by Steve’s hands roaming your body. He doesn’t undress you, but his fingers tease as so, tips gently brushing over the zip of your dress more than once.

Your arousal is thick between your thighs, hot and aching as he slips his hand under the skirt to test you. You allow Steve access, opening your legs a little wider as he cups you fully.

The vehicle slows to a stop, and it’s not until the door beside Steve opens that he finally pulls his hand away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before almost dragging you from the car.

The cold and brisk February air whirls around you in a white flurry of a few stray snowflakes, blown from a nearby cluster of conifers. Usually you’d be quick to grab a coat or head back inside the warmth of Steve’s lodge, but the heat of the steam from the hot tub does plenty to neutralize the chill coming off of the mountain.

Steve’s behind you, leaving a trail of light kisses over your shoulder blade as his hands tug at your hips, pulling you into his lap.

“It’s quite a view from up here,” you observe, marvelling at the glow from the street lamps all the way from up here. They look like tiny fireflies buzzing around in search of the nearest source of light.

“It’s nothing compared to the view I have right now,” Steve whispers against your skin. He brings a hand up to your jaw, turning your head to the side. You giggle as he stares at you in awe before capturing your lips hungrily once more.

He rolls his hips, his cock pressing firm against your bare ass before pushing you off his lap, turning you to press you up against the side of the hot tub. You whimper into the crook of your elbow as Steve enters you quickly from behind. Your pussy is still sensitive from the last two rounds where he had fucked you over the kitchen counter, and then again on the bathroom floor as you had cleaned up.

Almost as soon as he bottoms out, he’s moving inside you, having already memorised the perfect rhythm that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. Water begins to splash over the side as Steve’s thrusts quicken, his breath hot against your damp skin. You clutch desperately at the edge of the hot tub as he fucks into you with reckless abandon before sliding a hand down between the valley of your thighs, fingers grazing over your clit.

“Fuck, Steve!” you yell, voice echoing as it travels down the valley, the deep snow eventually absorbing the sound.

It’s only a matter of time before you come again, body trembling against Steve’s as the coil inside you snaps, flooding your veins with rapturous electricity.

Steve soon follows with a grunt, his grip tightening harder around your hips when he lets go, coming deep and hot inside you.

He pulls away, placing a trail of wet sloppy kisses against your neck before slumping back against the side of the hot tub next to you, chest heaving deeply with raspy breaths.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna need to sleep for a week after that,” you giggle, laying your head sleepily on your arms crossed out in front of you.

“Told you, you shouldn’t be wasted,” Steve affirms, sweeping his tongue across his bottom lip. “And I certainly didn’t wanna waste a single part of you.”

“No, you did not.”

You share a knowing smile, both well aware that the night is far from finished.

When you arrived here, you hated everything to do with St. Valentine and the overrated holiday— knowing it would forever remind you of your failed relationship. Yet as you cuddle up to Steve, your body still tingling, you decide that perhaps it’s not so bad after all.

***

ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @chamberofsloths @cevansgurl @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @kellhems @ladybug05 @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @threeminutesoflife @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wintasssoldier @xoxonotme

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @b3autyfuldisast3r @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @nik2write @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @stoneyggirl2 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @unfortunate-brat @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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poisonedonyx · 4 months

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Lucien x F!Reader | "Our Story" (p2)

requests r open, i suck at making ideas myself TwT tw: unedited, pregnancy, birth, oc baby, fighting/arguing between a door, kinda rushed wc: 2.4k Part One

Feyre sighed, taking her friend’s arm and holding her close. “What’s truly going on, [YourName]?” Feyre asked, noticing the scent difference, the hormonal peaks, it led to one thing but Feyre wanted her to admit it. The glamour only went so far, and it was starting to break. [YourName] finally broke down, “I believe I’m with child, I can’t stay here.” [YourName] finally said.

“There’s the truth..” Feyre smiled warmly, “I’ll talk to Rhys about this.. i’ll make sure you’re safe.” she adds. [YourName]’s breath hitched in a panic “He can’t know, what if he tells Lucien? I don’t need him-“ the panicked female began but Feyre cut her off; “Rhysand wouldn’t dare tell Lucien, he’s a trusted person, and I’m not saying that because he’s my mate. I promise.” Feyre said, squeezing her friend’s hand.

“Rhysand will make sure you’re safe in Velaris, that you and your child will be away from Lucien. Heck, I'll even visit from time to time.” Feyre promised, and for the first time since [YourName] suspected she was pregnant- she relaxed. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, but it soon would be caught in her throat once more. “We need to get you to a healer though, make sure everything is alright- especially after our run in with Eris.” Feyre pointed out, and [YourName] nodded in agreement.

Once Feyre managed to corner her mate and explain everything about her dear friend, Rhysand had promised his mate he’d make sure [YourName] was tucked away safely with access to healers and such for her and her child. Once Rhysand knew, he summoned a healer to check on [YourName] and made sure Lucien was off the premises as they did so, just to respect [YourName]’s want to keep the pregnancy under wraps.

“Things seem to be quite fine, you do have a powerful one on your hands.” The healer says, taking her hands off of [YourName]’s bare stomach. [YourName] just nodded as she fixed her shirt and sat up on the bed, “Take these, it’ll make sure things remain smooth between now and when I check in on you again in a few weeks. If you feel off, as if things aren’t normal, or you begin to bleed- contact me immediately.” The healer mentioned as she handed a bag full of tea, tea that [YourName] knew she wouldn’t be able to stomach for some time.

According to the healer though, [YourName] was just entering her second trimester. Eventually, the healer left and [YourName] welcomed Feyre and Rhysand into the room she temporarily held up in. “How is everything?” Feyre questioned, “Good..” [YourName] answered with a bored tone- not that she was, she was just ready to leave. Rhysand smiled though, “Let’s go ahead and get you out of here.” he offered which the pregnant female happily took.

When arriving at the cabin, [YourName] felt relieved. Everything she could have asked for was there and she thanked Rhysand with a low curtsy. Rhysand laughed it off before reminding her that a friend of Feyre’s was a friend of his, and that he and Feyre would visit now and again to check up on the female.

Slowly, things started to fall into place for [YourName]. Slowly, her bump grew, and now that it was slightly there, her favorite hobby was looking at her stomach in the mirror or watching as her stomach raised up and down as she breathed. She couldn’t wait for the day her baby started to kick in her womb. Which, eventually did happen and [YourName] nearly cried of pure happiness.

[YourName] was cutting up some fruit to snack on, and when she finally set the knife down to move the fruit onto a plate, she felt the kick. It marked twenty weeks- about five months along, and she felt the flutters in her stomach. At first she had zero idea what it meant and had assumed she had to pee, but never felt the need to pee, so she took her fruit and sat down with her book. When she felt it again, this time she watched her stomach and gasped when she watched a little bump pop up and disappear soon after. Her baby had been kicking! Hopefully this meant she was having a healthy baby- because truthfully that’s all she wanted. Even if the child was half the man [YourName] no longer wanted to see, she wanted her baby to have the best life. [YourName] gently placed her book aside and placed a hand where the baby had kicked and cooed softly, “The healer was right, you’re a powerful little thing..” [YourName] praises her unborn child.

When it seemed her child was done being active, [YourName] picked her book up once more and began reading. She was excited to be able to hold her child in her arms, but she also knew it was going to be hard alone. Perhaps she’d return to Feyre and Rhysand and simply act as if Lucien didn’t exist- if he still remained in the home, trying to woo Elain when, in reality, that girl could do so much better than the Autumn Court faerie. Mate or not, [Yourname] was a firm believer in thinking Lucien didn’t deserve shit- especially after the way he had ended things.

It would be another week before the healer had returned to check on [YourName] and in tow would be Feyre. “I didn’t expect to come as the healer did! I apologize!” Feyre says, setting her belongings down and both the healer and [YourName] brushed it off, claiming it was alright. Feyre sat with [YourName] as the healer placed her hands on [YourName]’s bare stomach and light shined beneath them. “Do you want to know the gender?” The healer asked, [YourName] looked over to Feyre- as if she’d have the answers she sought out for.

“That’s up to you..” Feyre giggled softly, [YourName] nodded though “I do, I want to know..” the pregnant female nodded her head. After some time, the healer finally found a good spot to examine the baby within [YourName]’s womb, “Boy. Your baby is a boy.” the healer finally announced. [YourName] couldn’t help but melt on the spot when she found out the news, a baby boy. She had no idea where she was going to begin, she had fully prepped for a girl but perhaps that’s simply how it worked out for her. Fate is such a weird thing to attempt and play with. Once the healer was done, she gave [YourName] some drinks to try out to make sure the baby remained healthy before the healer took her leave. [YourName] turned to Feyre with a joyful smile on her face- “A boy!” she squealed. Feyre laughed at her friend’s excitement. After about an hour of chatting and lunch had begun to be made, Feyre finally spoke up. “I think.. I think he-who-shall-not-be-named misses you.” Feyre says as she places some vegetables into the pan, “Good. Make him regret.” [YourName] huffed as she didn’t miss the male, but deep down she had missed him and wished he remained around so she could experience the pregnancy together- but he had messed that up, he had screwed up and this was his punishment.

Feyre watched carefully, because even though [YourName] had sounded as if she was determined to never see Lucien again, the frown on her face told something completely different. That she did miss the male too, but Feyre would never pass that message on to anyone, because she knew deep down [YourName] wanted to keep this from everyone. It wasn’t like [YourName] had anyone else but Feyre and Rhysand, so [YourName] understood fully why she was acting the way she was.

When [YourName] had disappeared, Lucien didn’t ask questions. In fact, he assumed she had ran away in embarrassment. It wasn’t until Elain had rejected him for the uptenth time, that Lucien realized that perhaps he did miss [YourName]. But never would admit it out loud. Just because the way things ended was, in fact, messy. He didn’t want to say he hated the way he saw her try not to cry as he was called ‘pig’ or how much force was in the slap to show how hurt she was.

So, when Feyre claimed [YourName] missed most of them- Lucien decided to try and dig deeper. He asked where she was, how she was doing, and if she was okay. Feyre would smile and say she’s safe, she was doing amazingly, and she was more than okay. It placed a pit of nervousness and disgust when Feyre was so vague with her answers and perhaps [YourName] had asked her to do that and that just made him feel even more regret.

Now that he knew Elain wanted nothing to do with him and it had gotten into his thick skull, he realized how much he missed [YourName]’s touch. So he was going to get to the bottom of where [YourName] was. That’s why when he overheard a quiet conversation between Feyre and Rhysand that he realized she was on the outskirts of town and that she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone. Has she moved on? His selfish side wished and hoped she didn’t.

It wouldn’t be until [YourName] entered her third trimester that she realized how hard it was going to be in these final few weeks. She couldn’t pick anything up by herself, and when she was waddling down the path to her garden- she realized she wasn’t going to be able to get up on her own without assistance. She wished she had someone, but knew she told herself she had this and that the final stretch was in sight.

When things did begin to flush out and [YourName] was hitting around her due date, the healer practically visited every two days to make sure [YourName] was doing alright on her own. It was hoped that while the healer was visiting and helping out around the house, that [YourName] would go into labor so she didn’t have to do it alone- but it seemed like the world had other plans. The one day the healer couldn’t make it out to help out, [YourName] went into labor.

Sure, she was in labor for hours, but she followed the back-up instructions for the occasion that the healer couldn’t make it. She stripped down and found herself in the bathtub, half way through pushing did Feyre and Rhysand come to visit, the screams made the couple panic and when Feyre finally found [YourName] in the bathtub struggling to push- she dropped to her knees and offered her hand, which [YourName] took between tears. “I can’t do this alone,” [YourName] sobbed, but Feyre shook her head. “You’re not alone [YourName], you have us, you’re going to have your son, you won’t be alone.” Feyre promised, but to [YourName] it wasn’t enough. Even if it sounded selfish and cruel, Feyre, Rhysand, and her son were not enough to satisfy the hole in [YourName]’s heart. When [YourName] finally gave birth fully and there was a cry that pierced the air, everyone felt relieved,

Feyre had helped place the little boy on [YourName]’s chest, all while she did the after birth process the healer had finally busted in and shooed her High Lady off so she could inspect both mom and baby. Things were good and after cleaning up, making sure mom was in bed, and baby was healthy- the healer left instructions for each meal and left.

Feyre finally entered the room, watching as [YourName] fed her son for the first time. As the two females spoke, there were soft suckling noises from the baby. Finally, the topic of ‘returning home’ had come up and Feyre had offered for [YourName] to return closer to home. “I wouldn’t mind having you closer, it’s a matter of Lucien finding out.” Feyre chuckled, [YourName] shook her head “Whatever, I’ll take the offer though- I.. I miss being able to see you daily.” [YourName] said gently as she admired her son. “What did you name him?” Feyre finally asked, [YourName] cooed softly as she thought “I really like the name Alban, I may go with that. It suits him well.” [YourName] explained gently. Feyre couldn’t have agreed more. “Alban, sounds nice off the tongue.” Feyre jokes, making [YourName] chuckle. After some talking, it was official that [YourName] would be moving closer to the townhouse, especially since Feyre realized miss [YourName] was going to need big time help with the baby.

A week would pass and when [YourName] was mostly healed from birthing mostly by herself, she got assistance from Cassian and Rhysand with moving and before [YourName] knew it- she was in a new home within Velaris. [YourName] set her son down in a bassinet close by the bed as she flopped down. Alban softly cooed, signaling he was awake. He tiredly watched as his mother picked him back up and cuddled with him until there was a knock on the door.

With some hesitation, [YourName] held the child to her chest and made her way to the front food. Perhaps she should have checked who it was before just opening the door, but she did so anyway and there revealed the man she didn’t even want to think of. When she thought of Lucien, she had gotten pale and felt nauseous. So she tried to shut the door as fast as she could, that’s when the door stopped from shutting thanks to Lucien’s foot being in the way.

“Please, not now, I’m tired.” [YourName] begged, trying to shut the door still. “No, you’ve been gone for almost six months, I just want to know where you’ve been.” Lucien says, trying to fight back, but groaning when [YourName] fought back just as hard. “Safe, away from you- now leave.” [YourName] scoffed but before she could warn Lucien about Alban- the little one started to cry.

[YourName] immediately dropped fighting with Lucien and turned her focus on the baby on her chest. She walked off to a different room to try and console him, but Lucien followed. “You.. You were pregnant?” Lucien asked in shock, he wasn’t dumb. That baby in his ex-friends-with-benefits’ arms looked too much like him and [YourName] as a mix to deny that [YoruName] was with child.

[YourName] remained silent though, “You should’ve tried with me, please leave.” [YourName] asked once more. Lucien was at such a loss for words that he simply turned around and left, he didn’t know how to ask for more information. So, when he returned he asked Feyre and she gave him a look of pity before shaking her head “That’s not for me to tell.” she whispered before leaving Lucien alone with his thoughts once more.

#dividers; cozypupluv #a court of thorns and roses x reader #acotar x reader #book x reader #bookblr x reader #x reader #Lucien x reader #Lucien Vanserra x reader #acotar lucien x reader

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neopuppy · 5 months

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I want to start writing and posting my very hush hush🤫 battle of the bands AU without anyone bothering me about updates. im not asking for a lot in actuality BUT……the way people act on here…

if I do this it would be a series. I think I will split up how each part gets posted too……since two groups are involved.

but also if it’s a waste of my time….I’ll just move along and keep rolling out one shots instead.

THIS WILL BE A CROSSOVER AU: nct dream/enhypen🤨

the premise: two childhood best friends(Heeseung/Jeno) fight over a girl in middle school and end up going to different high schools/both have little garage bands that play local shows but both gain notoriety in their districts, enough that a lot of people vote for them to make it to the top 5 for Battles of the Bands in their county

here’s where you come in- you are friends with the ‘00 liners and often help them sling demos/sell merch bc they let you go to all their shows for free, and offer to pay for stuff etc. throughout high school you always had the same boyfriend whose a year older than you and right before you’re ready to graduate you find out he’s been cheating on you in college. broken hearted and full of despair, your buddy Jeno’s like ‘hey if we win this battle of the bands thing we get a spot on Warped tour, you should come, it runs through summer. once in a lifetime opportunity.’

ur like nahhhh, but you go to the battle of the bands and meet their rival group(enha hyung line) for the first time and the singers REALLY into you, which leads to a run-in between him and *gasp* his ex-childhood bestie Jeno, they start talking shit to each other and you’re like😅😅😅??? ‘Why are you yelling at my potential rebound’ to which Jeno shouts ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! HIM(yes.. its heeseung) NEVER!!!!’

yaddayaddya blah blah……you end up going on the tour, both bands come in as the top 2 finalists, and it ends up being the most chaotic memorable summer of your life……tons of drama, LOTS of guys, a lot of hooking up, some feelings, some confessions, jealousy, first times, etc etc. very coming of age with y/n running train on the whole squad as usual. I want to also really focus on each character and sort of how they all ended up in their bands/became friends, very ‘my teenage angst has a body count’-esque. each character has a song attached to them that delves more into their personal story/persona, etc……it wouldn’t be a super long AU, but maybe.

these updates would be SLOW, not weekly!!!! and tbfh if you even ask me once🤏 abt updates I may block you. Boom was like the last series I rly consecutively updated and it STRESSED me out/ruined how fun it was to write toward the end bc of the constant nagging for updates. its actually so much more annoying to read that message more than anything…maybe..

I want to write this bc, I love both groups and I think this type of story is something *I* personally could make something really fun out of, but yeah, like I’ve explained… the ‘when are you posting again/when will you update’ etc or snarky ass ‘FINALLY YOU UPDATED’ etc…..don’t do that!!!

with that being said..…I dare to ask the audience…

#🚶🏻‍♀️#not tagging bc whatever if u see it then ur opinion was meant to be used lol

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ohanny · 1 month

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a very self-indulgent omega kim going into heat after being kidnapped kentakim hc because why not

so the basic premise is kenta and kim connected before the unfortunate basement throwing incident at tony's house. like kenta had to deal with red racing and kim was a flirt. it wasn't anything serious but it had the potential to be. there was always something between them but kenta kept drawing back and kim thought they’d have all the time in the world.

but then the kimnapping happens.

and kim is MEGA pissed, okay? kenta visits him in his dungeon room of doom all "fuck, i am so sorry, i warned you, i told you to stay away" and kim is like "oh fuck off" and kenta is all kicked puppy swearing he will help get kim out. and he does. he gets kim out of there but kim is still very much "bitch grow a fucking spine if you want to talk to me ever again. you're a coward. you know what you're doing is wrong and you are not doing enough. be better."

kim is shipped to alans and moves in and he just... keeps feeling like shit. he can't explain it until he realizes he's going into heat and fuck if it isn't a whole ass mess - pun intended - because he hasn't had one in a medically inadvisable time and he thought he was still in the clear, swallowing a fistful of suppressants the first chance he got after his kimnapping.

and it hurts. the entire pack is freaking out because a) kim is an omega???? and b) yeah nah that is not a normal heat. kim is feverish and doubled over in pain and yes he smells sickly sweet but emphasis on sickly. it's the sweetness of rotting fruit and not like oh yeah, slick and slide, and people are worried.

alan: someone needs to do something

sonic: i literally offered to knot him

alan: and?

sonic: he threw a glass at me.

north and jeff build him a nest like see, pack is here, but kim keeps hissing at them and saying it's all wrong and after a long weekend they are all this close to calling an ambulance and having him shipped into a heat clinic against his will.

but then there is a knock on the door.

it's kenta, looking agitated and stressed as fuck and alan goes full "oh hell no, not the time" but kenta physically forces his way through the door, nostrils flaring like a blood hound, and everyone is like "uh oh spaghettios" and babe is squaring up like bitch, he is ready to fight

and then kim stumbles down the stairs looking like absolute death and kenta might elbow someone in the face to break free and before anyone can interrupt, kim collapses against kenta and buries his face in kenta's throat with a whine and he's all "i really tried but i need -" and kenta's all "it's okay, you're okay. and you were right. about me. about everything" and he will just full on garfield scoop kim up.

the pack stands there like "um excuse me, what the fuck?" and kenta pretends this is all fine and normal and asks where the bathroom is and if someone could prepare them some food. babe is still ready to deck the bastard because fuck him but then his nose scrunches because oh. okay. that's less rotting fruit and more like burnt sugar all of a sudden and alan is like "OOOOOKKKAAAAAAY" and sonic's like "bathroom's upstairs, third door on the right, i'll make you a fruit bowl?"

north: dude. that's kenta.

sonic: you wanna try pry kim off of him?

north: good point.

and then north smiles and says “you know what kenta, i'll show you where everything is” except when north gets close to them, kim peeks out of kentas neck and bares his teeth at north because excuse me, his alpha, how dare you.

kenta carries kim upstairs to first draw him a cold bath to get his fever down and makes him drink a glass of water and in the midst of it kim has a moment of clarity.

kim: fuck. i didn't meant to call you. you can go.

kenta: you really think i could leave you alone like this?

kim: but what about -

kenta: he doesn't know where i am. i’ll figure it out after.

kim knows he should fight this but he has no energy to do so anymore. he’s in pain and exhausted and can't do this alone and having kenta here, touching him, is such a relief. it’s much easier to just give in. kim drifts in a pleasant haze as kenta washes the smell of sickness away, towels him off and bundles him into a bathrobe to carry to his nest.

when sonic brings over his fruit bowl, kim is splayed out on the sheets, flushed and staring at kenta with these dazed eyes, already pretty far gone. it's a bit awkward as another alpha but he hands over the fruit and backs away. he lingers in the doorway long enough to see kenta very gently coax kim to eat something from his fingers before quietly closing the door and going back downstairs. and that's how sonic becomes the number one kenta advocate because he's a sucker for a good love story and obviously this is something that's been going on for a while and it would be criminal to separate them now.

he tells the rest of the pack that everything’s going well and they need to make a plan because kenta sure as shit will need them to have one ready by the time kim and him re-emerge.

#pit babe the series #kentakim #kimkenta

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 11 months

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Year One (II)

Part Five of Three Years

Year Three | Masterlist |

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only.

Length: 8.5K

Notes: ….Hi! It’s the final part!! And only a week late!!! Thank you for reading 💖

Warnings: Cursing; angst; enemies to enemies who fuck to lovers; tech-talk; angst (I know I said it before but really); Nathan being Nathan; vaginal sex; fingering; creampie; choking; oral sex (male and female receiving)

Summary: Keeping Bateman off your mind isn’t so difficult, once you get down to it. Sure, there’s a little a bit of a lull. At the start, hearing him on the odd conference call throws you off for a few moments. In the midst of taking notes, your mind will flash to the sound of him grunting low in your ear, the memory of the press of his body against yours, and the phantom weight of his hand heavy on your throat.

BlueBook’s campus is stunningly large and confusing. Sc(ai)le is a far smaller operation, and is likely to remain so, and you’d been certain when you signed the contract that this vast new environment would be well out of your realm of familiarity. But receiving a map for the BlueBook campus along with your other documentation for orientation made your stomach churn. The differences are staggering. BlueBook’s Silicon Valley office has four separate buildings. 3/4ths of the parking lot is designed for electric vehicles; regular vehicles have parking furthest from the main building. There are multiple cafeterias and cafés on the premises. There are designated nap rooms.

Maybe it’s an archaic approach, but you go out of your way to print out the map that was sent to you ahead of your first day. When you pull up for work your first morning, you are insanely happy that you did. You stop in the lobby once you get your badge, eyeing the print-out as people simply stride past you like you aren’t even there. You’re almost alright with that. You don't really want to explain who you are to some random BlueBook employee as you ask for help. But this behavior also lays the company’s culture plain. If you were at Sc(ai)le, at least one person would stop and ask if you needed help. Here, moving into a junior leadership position, you’re completely invisible.

“Sooo, how are the new digs?”

“...They’re fine,” You fib to Jenn, looking around at the office. It’s not a complete lie; they’re not bad. Your name is on the door; the size is about the same as your old office. But where your office at Sc(ai)le had been bright and open, this feels…Closed in. It doesn’t have the same fishtank quality, and where your old office had initially left you feeling exposed, this office makes you feel like you’re sitting in a file box on a shelf somewhere. There’s a window behind you, but it faces another building, and doesn’t let in nearly the same amount of light as your previous office.

“Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?” You frown, “What ‘uh-oh’?”

“I know that tone. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it!”

“You sure? I don’t wanna brag, but I know the guy in charge, and I can put in a good word.”

“Oh, yeah,” You scoff a laugh, “Bring my problem to Bateman for me, that’s all I need.”

Jenn goes quiet for a few seconds before she hedges, “I thought you guys were better now.”

You raise your hand, scrubbing it across the back of your neck as you fight back a sigh.

“We are,” You insist, “I just mean, you know…Even if Bateman did like me, this would so put me on his shit list. And I need to watch my step around here. It’s different now.”

“Yeah,” Jenn agrees, “It is.”

You can hear the creaking of her office chair, and practically picture her twisting back and forth in it.

“Can we do dinner at the end of this week?” You ask, hoping that she won’t call you on the subject change. “I want all of the dirt, you know. Hear how it’s going with my fearless leadership.”

“Sure.” It’s a relief as her tone shifts, as you can practically hear her smile. “Friday? Saturday? Sunday?”

“Friday, please. I’m guessing I’ll need all weekend to recover.”

“You’re damn right,” She chuckles. “Friday it is.”

“I’ll text you some options before I make any reservations.”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright. Have a good day, Jenn.”

“You, too, girlie.”

You smile, lowering your phone and hanging up. You’re about to set it on the desk when your phone flashes with another call. You grimace at the sight of the contact, despite the way that your stomach flutters. You consider not answering it at all—and then swipe to answer it right before it can go to voicemail.

“Took you long enough.” Nathan doesn’t give you a chance to say a thing before he’s filling your ear. “Who were you talking to?”

“Excuse me?”

“I got a busy signal twice.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I wanna know.”

“Well that’s too damn bad.”

“I could take a guess.”

“Feel free.”

“...”

“Well?”

“I’ve decided I don’t care.”

“Do you have a reason for calling me?”

“Figured I’d check in, day one and all that.”

“Nothing to report so far.”

“Really.”

“Nope. Had two whole meetings and got my email set up.”

“Well look at you, you little overachiever. Usually people don’t get their email set up until their second day.”

“You know me, I like to hit the ground running.”

“Mhm. Listen, I’m gonna be in town this weekend—”

“Okay—”

“—So I’ll put something on your calendar.”

“For what reason?”

“To check-in.”

“I think check-ins like this are just fine.”

“I may as well see you while I’m in town.”

“What for?”

“It’s customary to take a new hire in leadership for dinner.” A pause. Then, “Why else would I want to see you?”

You lean back in your seat, fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. The way he leads you into this question shouldn’t send tingles through your body. You’d forgone Bateman’s invitation to visit him before your stint at BlueBook had started, and haven’t been with him—or anyone—in a few weeks. Still, you’ve had longer dry spells.

“I don’t know,” You pass off breezily. “You tell me.”

“I don’t miss you,” He laughs. You think that he may mean for it to sound cruel, but you’ve come to know him a little too well, and he shockingly just manages to miss that mark.

“Good,” You lean back in your seat a little more. “I don’t miss you, either.”

“Good.”

“And I’m afraid I have plans this weekend, so unless you’re planning on adding some kind of bonus or overtime on this, I won’t be joining you.”

A weighty pause, a truly stomach-churning beat before, “Fine.”

He practically yawns it.

“Great,” You pronounce crisply. “I have a meeting to get to, so—”

“That’s funny, so do I—”

“I’m gonna hop off—”

“—Happy to give you some time back.”

“Great.”

“Sure.”

You draw the phone back from your ear again, rolling your eyes as his contact flashes, then disappears. Happy to give you some time back—the audacity. As if he'd put an actual meeting on your calendar for that useless call. You lean a little further back in your chair, then flail and hurriedly straighten before it can fully tip backward. Yikes, that was close. You puff out a panicked breath as you settle, tossing your phone onto the desk.

He doesn’t miss you. Good! That’s good. You don’t miss him either. You don’t want him to miss you. You don’t need him to miss you.

You need…To charge your vibrator. You could get on the dating apps again. It’s been a while. The last time you bothered was before you joined Sc(ai)le. Maybe the dating landscape isn’t as bad as it used to be.

You wince, shifting in your seat. You already know that you’re kidding yourself. There’s no way the apps are a good option now. They were barely a good option then. You’ll just have to up your vibrator game. There’s one you’ve had your eye on for a while, anyway. Nothing better to get with your signing bonus.

Keeping Bateman off your mind isn’t so difficult, once you get down to it. Sure, there’s a little a bit of a lull. At the start, hearing him on the odd conference call throws you off for a few moments. In the midst of taking notes, your mind will flash to the sound of him grunting low in your ear, the memory of the press of his body against yours, and the phantom weight of his hand heavy on your throat. The first few times, you swallow thickly and reach for your coffee, or water, washing down the thought. Slowly, though, you manage to put a wall up. The Bateman on the phone isn’t the same guy that had fucked you, or the same guy that you slapped.

Okay, well, technically, he is.

But this is Business Bateman. This guy is no longer at least one level removed from your day-to-day. You’d been fucked by Bastard Bateman—Banker Bateman, even. This Bateman isn’t teasing any of you over the phone during team meetings. There aren’t hefty pauses for effect, or to bait you into answering him first. He’s to-the-point. He doesn't wait for answers; he demands them.

After a couple of months, you manage to convince yourself that you prefer it this way. You tell yourself that you don’t miss Nathan. You don’t miss his cock, his teasing, or smacking his smug fucking face. It really is better this way. Your life is almost back to normal. Your friendship with Jenn is on a positive trend. You manage to see her at least every other week, and your smiles at the mention of Nathan’s name gradually become less forced.

The shift is critical. Despite your relative proximity, you feel far less tense on a day to day basis. Sure, there’s an itch that just isn’t being scratched for you right now—but you’re not bracing for whatever shit Bateman may pull next, or operating with a fear that Jenn may learn just how much time you actually spend with Nathan. It still weighs on you, though. There are moments when you feel the heavy truth of it on your tongue, and you consider telling her—but the conversation otherwise feels so bright, and so easy, and you can’t bring yourself to shatter the moment.

You’re certain Nathan hasn’t told her, either—if he had, you’d know by now. Jenn doesn’t shield her feelings well from anyone, but especially not from you. You know that her crush is still affecting her in full-force, but as far as you know, she hasn’t acted on it. The conversations about Bateman becoming part of the board would’ve backed off by now if she had. If anything, those have increased.

Worse, from what she’s been telling you, you think that he may be considering it. You’re in no place to influence business on either end anymore. You don’t want to buzz in Jenn’s ear, insist that she take more time to think about this. She’s been thinking about this move for three years now. You don’t want buzz in Nathan’s ear about it, either. Whatever you tell him to do, you’re certain he’ll do the exact opposite to spite you. The only thing worse than impacting Jenn’s company negatively from the inside is managing to negatively impact it after you’ve left. Sc(ai)le’s direction is none of your business anymore. You need to make peace with that.

“Knock knock.”

You can’t help but look up, stunned. You haven’t heard his voice over anything but a phone for nearly six months. That’s sort of your fault—he did offer to take you to dinner. But you didn’t trust him then. You almost don’t trust his appearance now. Frankly, seeing him shouldn’t be such surprise. You work at his company, after all. But this little sneak-attack is something that you haven’t been treated to in a very long time.

“Hi there,” He adds, and you realize that you’ve done nothing but stare at him.

“Hi,” You manage. “You here for a talk or are you just stopping by?”

“Just stopping by.” He pushes himself off of the door frame, and you turn back to your laptop as he takes lazy, drifting steps around your office. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the snug fit of his polo shirt, and the swell of his ass beneath his—sweatpants. The man wore sweatpants to his own office. You can’t help but shake your head a little as you come to that realization, turning fully back to your screen.

“You here for the All Hands?” You ask.

“Yup.”

“Surprised you’re not zooming in as usual.”

“I happened to be in town, figured I may as well make an appearance.”

“In sweatpants?” The indignant shock slips out before you can stop it. He just snorts, amused.

“I have a change of clothes in my office.”

Of course he does.

“So,” He rounds your desk, leaning against it and watching you work, “How do you like it?”

“The work? It’s fine.”

“Better or worse than Sc(ai)le?”

“Not better or worse. Just different.”

He watches you for a few moments longer. “But BlueBook is better, right?”

You roll your eyes a little bit, biting back a smile.

“If it helps you sleep at night, Nathan, yes. BlueBook is better.”

“I knew it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m telling Jenn.”

“She’ll never believe you.”

“...Do you still have that policy?”

You immediately know exactly what he’s asking about, but you let out a confused, questioning hum.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Really.”

“You’re going to have to refresh my memory.”

You hear the soft huff of Nathan’s laugh, and the slight hush of him pushing off of your desk. You’re certain that he’ll just leave, but Nathan rests one hand on your desk, and the other on the back of your chair as he leans over you.

“Well I’ve been told,” You shiver as his breath brushes your neck, “That you don’t fuck your boss.”

“Oh, that policy.”

“Mm.”

“That one is still in place.”

“Really.”

“Firmly.”

“That’s too bad,” Nathan sighs.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You’re fired.”

“Sure.” You don’t even flinch. You know that he’s not serious. At least…You’re pretty sure.

“Pack it up.”

“Can I send this email first.” You glance back toward him, and feel a touch of relief when you find him smiling warmly at you. You shake your head a little, turning back to the screen as you fight off your own smile.

“Thought you said I wasn’t irresistible,” You remind him.

“You’re not.”

“And that you don’t miss me.”

“...I don’t.”

The pause makes your stomach flip. You swipe your tongue across your lips, considering.

“In town for long?” You ask.

“The next week.”

“Alright.”

“So?”

“So…” You shrug, “Maybe I'll quit BlueBook for the weekend.”

“Just the weekend?”

“Maybe.”

“Hm.”

“You can’t expect me to…Quit for longer than that.”

“You haven’t taken any vacation days, have you?”

You scoff, turning toward him fully.

“Excuse me, but I might have plans for that.”

“Do you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m making it my business.”

“The weekend.”

“The week.”

“The—I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.”

“It’s too short notice! I’d have to work out coverage.”

“Then work it out.” Your stomach swoops as Bateman leans in a touch closer, his gaze sweeping from your eyes to linger on your lips. “Call in sick today after the All Hands and we’ll get a head start.”

“You’re trying to get me in trouble.”

“You’re making it harder than you need to.”

“Your cock or your plan?”

Nathan grins.

“Would it shock you if I said both?”

“Not one bit.”

“Good.” He grips your jaw, giving it a squeeze before he lets go and straightens, turning away. “Block off your calendar. I’ll send you the address.”

You lean back in your seat, unable to help watching him as he leaves. You wait for him to turn back, to shoot you a smile or a wink, to tell you that he’s kidding—but he doesn’t say or do a thing as he goes. You bite your lip, hesitantly turning toward your laptop again and opening your calendar. The next week doesn’t look…Too busy. There are a few status calls that you’re not necessarily needed on. The deliverables that you have could be shifted, and surely in the next week, you’ll have some time to yourself. You can bring your work laptop home with you. You wince. You’ve done a pretty good job of keeping your work out of your apartment. But hell, it’s been three and a half years. If you’re only starting to take your work home with you now, that’s pretty good.

You have 20 PTO days. Are you seriously going to take five of them just to be at Bateman’s beck and call?

You don’t even make it to his place before it starts.

You can’t focus through the All Hands; you’re distracted. You can’t get your head together. You sit there, going back and forth and back and forth on whether or not taking this time off is actually a good idea. You could always take the time and then go back to the office if you decide that this just isn’t working for you. But then, Nathan might talk you into staying with him for a few more days.

How the hell did he talk you into this in the first place?

You desperately try to swallow against your drying throat, glancing around. Everyone is engaged with what Bateman is saying up front, or splitting their attention between their laptops and phones, still answering emails and slack messages while Bateman fills them in on funding updates and the state of the company. You ought to be focusing, too, but you suddenly feel so—hot. It’s not sexy, either. It’s like your skin is prickling from the inside. You scrub your sweaty palms against the fabric of work jeans, shifting uncomfortably in your—in your seat—

You push yourself up, mumbling your apologies as you squeeze past the other people in the aisle. You don’t look back as you hurry toward the door at the back of the conference space, even as your ears catch on Nathan’s comments that the latest BlueBookTab is set to complete its final round of QA by the end of Q2.

You wind your way through the halls, your stomach twisting with discomfort. You already put in for your time off, cited the fact that you were sick. Surely your hasty exit would’ve lent credence to that—but maybe you could still retract that PTO request. Or maybe you could—Hell, what can you do?

You reach your office and draw in a relieved breath at the complete silence and calm. Water, you need water. You take up your water bottle, taking a greedy swig. You must’ve had too much coffee this morning, maybe that’s why you feel so—blegh, so weird. Or maybe it’s a sign. If you feel this uneasy, this unsure about spending time with Nathan, it must mean that your time likely wouldn’t be such a good idea, anyway. You can tell Nathan that. You can calmly, rationally tell Nathan that you’ve changed your mind. He won’t care—

“What’s going on?”

You whirl around at the sound of his question. Nathan looks almost bored, and sounds mildly perplexed.

“What are you,” You wave back toward the door, “What about the All Hands?”

“It’s finished.”

“...Oh.”

“Yeah. You ran out, like, right before I wrapped things up. Did you pay any attention to the agenda?”

“Not really, no.”

“Why did I even hire you,” Nathan chuckles, kicking the door shut behind himself.

“You tell me,” You bite out. Nathan rolls his eyes, further rankling the irritated nerves in your belly.

“Relax, sweetheart. It was a joke.”

“It wasn’t for me.”

“You want me to tell you?” His brows raise as he walks closer. “You’re kidding me.”

“And if I’m not?”

“What’s wrong with you?” He presses. You push a short breath out through your nose, shaking your head as you search for the words.

“I’m just—” You clear your throat. “I’m having some second thoughts.”

“About?”

“This.”

“BlueBook?”

“This,” You clarify, waggling the finger between the two of you.

“If you’re that worried about coverage, bring your laptop with you.”

“Then what’s the point in leaving the office? Look,” You groan, “I’m sure you can find someone else to fuck.”

“Sure I can. I have.”

It’s like a slap in the face. You stare at him for a moment, stunned.

“I—Then—” You splutter, “Why—? Are you with someone?”

“Not with,” He plops into a chair. “Just…You know.”

“No, I don’t know, Nathan. That’s why I’m asking.”

“The hell does it matter to you, huh? Why are you so hung up on this?”

“I’m not, I’m just—”

“—You clearly are—”

“I just want—Fuck, I don’t know, if you’re like, dating someone, I don’t wanna insert myself in whatever the hell mess that would be.”

“I told you, I’m not with anyone,” He repeats boredly. “Satisfied?”

You consider for a moment. Are you? You’re not sure you are. You were having reservations before he mentioned that he had found someone else to screw around with.

“...No,” You finally determine, shaking your head. “I’m not.”

“Fuck,” Nathan groans, tipping his head back before he pushes himself up out of the chair. “Alright, forget it. I don’t know when the hell you got so fucking boring.”

“Excuse me?”

“What, is your listening comprehension going, too?”

“Fuck you!”

“You had your chance, sweetheart.”

“You wanna say that to my fucking face, Bateman?”

Seeing him stop just a few steps from the door and whirl around to you makes your hair stand on end.

“Which part did you miss, huh?” He spits as he grows closer, “Where’d I fucking lose you?”

“You haven’t had me since day one, you self-centered, self-righteous asshole—” You suck in a breath as he roughly grips your jaw, shutting you up. Your heart pounds in your chest as Nathan presses close, backing you up against the harsh edge of your desk. You raise your hands, grasping Nathan’s wrist so roughly that your nails bite into his skin. His lips twitch with a contentious smile as his hips shift against yours.

“I haven’t had you since day one where, honey? Here?” He asks in a low, cruel murmur. He nudges you back to sit on the desk before he tips his head, eyes searching yours. “This is my company, sweetheart. My name’s on the fucking door. I’ve had you the entire goddamn time.”

His mouth covers yours before you can gripe or argue. You groan at the contact, only allowing yourself to savor it for a few moments before you bite down harshly on his plump lower lip. Nathan’s hand slips from your jaw, smoothing down to squeeze around the sides of your neck. You whimper, reaching out to grasp and twist the fabric of his collar, hauling him closer. Bateman draws back with a slick sound, peering at you as he squeezes just a little harder. Your lips remain parted, heaving in tight breaths as stars begin to crowd your eyes. You hear a sharp whine, and it’s a moment before you realize that the sound came from you. Nathan tuts and shushes you softly as he loosens his grasp.

“There’s no lock on that door,” He murmurs, “You want everyone to come in? See you spreading your legs for me like this?”

You hurriedly shake your head, and his smile widens.

“Then I guess we better occupy that mouth of yours.”

It’s a risk that you never would’ve taken in Sc(ai)le’s offices. Those hadn’t been even remotely private—if anyone had walked past when you and Bateman were there before, they would’ve seen you. Now, unless someone knocks on your door and comes in, no one will know.

Still, your position doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. If any one walked in now, they’d see Nathan’s bare ass, and your hands grasping his hips as he thrusts into your mouth.

Your hold on him is fairly futile. With his hand on the crown of your head, you have little range of motion. You’re hardly moving, just holding your mouth open as he thrusts roughly between your lips. Your eyes water as you peer up at him, as you watch his tongue swipe across his lips, his gaze dark as he watches you. He shoves his hips forward harder still, and you struggle to recoil as you gag, as he keeps your head locked in position. He finally lets up, and you sway backward, coughing roughly as you swipe to clear away the spit that’s leaked along the sides of your lips. You watch Nathan chuckle, grasping his slickened shaft. Your thighs twitch, sending a tingling through your wet, neglected cunt. Before he can ask—before he can demand it, or say a word, you kneel up again, taking the head of his cock between your lips. He huffs out a soft laugh, hips twitching before his hand smoothed over your cheek, thumb sweeping across your cheekbone.

“Yeah,” He coos, “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

You groan, sinking your nails into the meat of his thigh as you swipe your tongue along the veined underside.

“You hungry?”

You don’t answer right away, and maybe that’s why he presses, “Hey.” You feel him sweep his hand along your naked lower back. It makes you sag even deeper into the mattress. “You alright?”

You draw in a deep breath, leaving your eyes closed as you consider. You are aching, and sated. You feel fucked-out, and cozy, and…

“Yeah,” You finally mumble, though it’s a herculean effort. Your tongue feels heavy, and your lips feel oddly…Gluey. “I could eat.”

You feel the bed dip, and hear the sound of his feet padding across his bedroom floor. It’s chased by the rumble of a drawer opening, and you wince as it’s then slammed shut. You roll onto your belly from your side, turning your head from the thud as another drawer is opened. You feel the bed dip again a moment later.

“Here,” He urges, dropping some clothes within reach. “Should’ve stopped by yours to get some clothes.”

“...Mmm.”

You hear him chuckle, and feel his hand on your cheek.

“Open your eyes for me.”

You finally do, blinking up at him where he’s leaning against the headboard. It shouldn’t be such a warm sight, considering the struggle in your office, but a tired smile unwittingly pulls at your lips.

“Do we have water?” You mumble.

“No. I’m a billionaire without access to water.”

“Shut up,” You groan, pushing yourself back onto your back and squinting up at the harsh lighting. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Almost nine.”

“...In the..?”

“Evening.”

“Mm.”

“Here.”

You look up as you hear the crisp crack of a water bottle being opened. You push yourself back just a little, settling your head on his thigh and taking hold of the proffered bottle and cap.

“Don’t spill it,” He mutters.

“I won’t.” Probably. Maybe you will, just to spite him. God knows how many bedrooms he has, you can probably find somewhere else to sleep. You draw in a greedy gulp, then another. It’s so cool; you didn’t realize how thirsty you were.

“Slow down,” Nathan counsels boredly as he takes his phone up from the bedside table. “You start choking on it, I’m just gonna laugh.”

“You usually laugh when I choke,” You mumble, lowering the water. He huffs softly, nodding.

“That’s true. What do you wanna eat?”

“I don’t know. What do you have here?”

“I’m gonna order something.”

“Oh.” You think for a moment before you tip your head back to look at him. “What are you hungry for?”

“Think we both know what I’m hungry for.”

“That’s not hot, it just sounds cannibalistic.”

“Don’t get too close to my phone, Clarice.”

“Fuck, your Hopkins needs work.”

“So?”

“Grilled cheese,” You finally decide, closing your eyes again. “With bacon and tomato.”

“‘Kay.”

“And a chocolate milkshake.”

“Alright.”

“And fries.”

“Thought the fries were implied.”

“Just confirming.”

“Cheese fries or regular fries?”

“Mmm…Regular.”

“Drink your water.”

You raise your hand obediently, taking another few sips. You hear Nathan set his phone down on the bedside table after a few moments.

“You wanna get cleaned up?” He asks, smoothing his fingers down your throat.

“Not yet.”

“Alright.”

You feel Nathan’s hand rest over your throat for a moment before he lets his touch drift lower.

“Should see if I have a turtleneck in here,” He comments.

“Why?”

“You’re bruising.”

You open your eyes, surprised as you wave toward your throat. He nods, smoothing his knuckles gently along the sides of your neck. You bite your lip, considering.

“Was I too rough?” He asks.

You shake your head.

“You sure?”

You nod.

“I need to hear it,” He insists. You huff softly, capping the water and setting aside. You push yourself up on slightly shaky arms before pressing yourself into Nathan’s side. It seems like his arm curls around your waist on instinct as you nuzzle against his neck.

“You weren’t too rough,” You murmur. “Okay? If I’d wanted you to stop, I would’ve told you to.”

You feel Nathan nod slightly, his hand splaying on your waist. You close your eyes, resting against him.

“Maybe we should establish a safeword, though,” You offer after a moment.

“Sure. Jenn.”

“What?”

“The safeword.”

You reel away, socking Nathan in the shoulder as he grins smugly at you. It’s a stupid decision—your head spins from moving too fast. You rest that same hand on Nathan’s shoulder to steady yourself as you grumble, “That is not even remotely funny.”

“C’mere,” Nathan urges. “You’re gonna make yourself sick, moving like that.”

“Your fault,” You mumble, though you cuddle up against him again.

“Uh-huh.” Nathan turns his head, nuzzling against your hair.

“...Crypto,” You finally say.

“You want your safeword to be crypto?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I hate it and it’s something I’ll remember.”

Nathan snorts a laugh before you feel him nod.

“Crypto it is.” He smooths his hand up your back, rubbing in small circles. You let your eyes slip shut again, allowing yourself to relax as the pressure in your head drops away. It’s strange. Even when you and Nathan fucked around before, it wasn’t quite like this. Sure, you had moments when he’d keep close, or when you didn’t get up right away, but you never made an effort to cuddle up, and he never made it a point to keep you this close. He used to relish in your discomfort, not try to lessen it.

It’s almost frightening how long it took for you to shut him out during your time at BlueBook, and how quickly you let him back in. It took one evening for him to unravel you, beyond the bounds of your prior…What could you call it? Association? Relationship?

“Drink your water,” He urges again. You shift a little reluctantly, leaning away from him to take hold of the bottle before leaning against him again. You yawn widely as you unscrew the cap, taking another few sips. You hold it up questioningly, and Nathan takes it, drawing in his own gulp before pressing it back into your hands.

He hovers.

Maybe it shouldn't be such a surprise, considering how depleted you were before you got out of bed, but you never expected Nathan to be the type to…Hover. You can feel him watching you as you settle on a seat at his kitchen island, resting your chin on your hand and fighting back a yawn. You can hear him unpacking the food, popping the containers lids before pushing a few over toward you.

“Here,” He urges. “Sit up.”

“Ugh,” You groan, pushing yourself and opening your eyes. “Is there a straw for the milkshake?”

Nathan pokea through the bag for a moment before he throws one toward you. You flinch, fumbling to catch it before ripping off the wrapping and jabbing it into the lid.

“Thanks.”

“Mm.”

You pull in a taste, shoulders wiggling with joy as the sweetness sweeps across your tongue. You reach out, opening the container and picking up a couple of fries. You glance over as Nathan leans against the counter across from you.

“What’d you get?” You ask, nodding toward him.

“Veggie burger.”

You hum, popping the fries between your lips. You have to fight the urge to cram a few more in before you’ve even finished chewing. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were.

“Still having second thoughts?” Bateman asks. You frown, and he clarifies: “About this week.”

You press your lips into a thin line as you consider. You pop the lid off the milkshake, dipping one of the fries inside and swirling it around.

“Not in the same way,” You admit.

“What’s still tripping you up?”

“...I never told Jenn.”

You can feel Nathan’s gaze as you reach for half of your grilled cheese.

“Never told Jenn what?” He asks.

“Anything, about, you know. This.”

“You need to?”

“No! No, not need, no,” You shake your head, “But…I’m a shit friend, you know. She likes you.”

It’s not fair to tip her hand like this, without her knowledge, but there’s no way that Bateman doesn’t know this by now, right? Still, it’s a moment before he lets out a grunt.

“What?” You sigh.

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“She didn’t tell you.”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

“Remember when I said that I found someone else to fuck?”

It’s like he’s dumped a bucket of water over your head. You freeze mid-chew, gobsmacked, your heart dropping into your stomach as Bateman reaches out, snagging a few of your fries as if he didn’t just turn your world upside.

“...Uh…” You shake your head, “I didn’t—I had no—When?”

“I don’t know, last year?”

Last year. You shake your head a little, trying to knock a response loose.

“Wu—uh…When?”

“After your party.”

“The party where you asked me to come stay with you for a week?”

“Yeah. But you didn’t, so.”

“So you fucked Jenn because I didn’t fuck you.”

“I fucked Jen when you didn’t fuck me. You weren’t the implicit cause. That make you feel better?”

“A little, yeah, I guess. But that doesn’t uh—weird feeling. This is a weird feeling.”

“I’m a little surprised she didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me, too.”

You reach for the milkshake, slugging back a gulp and wincing as brain freeze sets in.

“You gonna get all weird about it?” Nathan asks.

“I’m not—No. No, I’m not making this weird. I’m not gonna let this get weird. We’re gonna fuck.”

“If you’re sure.”

“All week, I mean we are gonna do it. A lot,” You insist, pointing at him. Nathan’s lips twitch in amusement.

“Alright,” He concedes, holding his hands up, “Jeez. Long as you leave it attached.”

“...Did you ever mention this to her?” You ask, waving between the two of you again.

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to?”

“If I do, I’ll give you a heads up.”

“Whatever.”

“Was it just the one time?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

That shouldn’t make you feel superior or good, but…Well, it kinda does. You and Jenn haven’t had a tug of war over Nathan, per se, not personally. It sounds like what they had was a one night stand than a real relationship.

Still, it’s her business, and her…Business.

“Cut it out.”

“What?” You blink, frowning.

“I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.”

“Oh—Shut up,” You gripe, throwing a fry at him. He smiles, picking it up from where it lands limply on the counter.

“So?” He asks, “Are you staying?”

The two of you don’t spend the entire time in bed. It’s just not physically possible, and the two of you do need breaks every now and again. Neither of you can draw yourself entirely away from work, either. You manage to contain it. You don’t let it creep into the rest of the house. You make a little space for yourself in his office, curling up in the corner of the couch and hunching over your screen and keyboard. Your time off is approved, but you still answer a few emails a day, and dial into a few status calls, just to keep up to date with what’s going on with your team. Nathan spends a fair bit of time working, too. You’re fascinated by the wall practically papered in post-its, even more fascinated still as you actually watch him work.

For all of Bateman’s pointed teasing and distraction while you worked with one another at Sc(ai)le, he has laser-focus when he’s working on BlueBook. You don’t take the same pains to annoy him as he had with you. You’re too interested in the way that he iterates, how he conducts himself when speaking to other staff members, how he occasionally mutters to himself as he makes notes. While you’re working, it’s like you’re hardly there. He’ll catch your eye every now and again, but for the most part, he leaves you to your own devices. A time or two, when you’re dialing into the same meeting, Nathan dials in and brings his phone over to the couch so that the two of you can listen in together.

You shift closer to him when he does, sitting side by side. Whenever Nathan unmutes, you’re careful to keep completely silent. You don’t want anyone to get even a hint that you’re there. It’s not against any company policy, but my god, it would set the team’s tongues wagging.

After one such call, Nathan hangs up, pitching the phone into the other end of the couch and grunting, “Fuckin’ idiots.”

You can’t help but smile.

“You do know that I’m still here, right?” You ask.

“You think I forgot?” Nathan turns to look at you, brows raising, “You gonna tell ‘em?”

“What?”

“You gonna tell ‘em that I think they’re fuckin’ idiots?” He shifts toward you. You shrug, turning back to your laptop and reopening the email that you’d been drafting before the call.

“Probably not.”

“Oh, probably not.”

“Freedom of speech.”

“Freedom of speech protects you from the government, sweetheart. Not from me.”

“I don’t need anyone to protect me from you.”

“No?”

“Nn-nn.”

“You sure about that?”

Before you can answer, Nathan snaps your laptop shut and tosses it to the floor.

“Are you crazy?” You screech as Nathan climbs over you, steering you back onto the couch. You give his chest a shove, but it hardly moves him as he crowds against you. His hands skim up your sides, and you can’t help but grin and squirm against him as his lips cover yours.

You think that time must be mellowing him. You’ve been with Nathan for three days straight, and you can’t help but notice a few…Differences. It goes well beyond the hovering.

He hasn’t kissed you so much since that first night. Nathan seems to almost delight in your kisses now. He takes his time slotting himself between your legs, spreading your thighs wide as his tongue spears past your smiling lips. He doesn’t hurry things along as he used to—though in fairness, these days, you have far more time than you used to. You’re not cuddling up in some dark corner, wary of being seen, or caught. You’re not hurrying out of bed, covering up as quickly as possible and shooing him out to scrub the sweat from your skin.

He doesn’t turn you, shove you into the wall, into the mattress, into the backseat of his car. Now, face to face, he tugs your panties aside and eases his sweatpants down just far enough to draw out his hardened cock, and ease it into your slick, aching pussy. The two of you groan against one another’s lips as he sheathes himself fully inside you. You raise your hands, cupping his cheeks and swirling your tongue along his as he plants his knees against the cushions to gain purchase.

Nathan reaches down and hikes your shirt up as your hips press together. You shiver as he ducks his head, his beard brushing harshly over your pebbling nipple before he takes it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Nate,” You moan, fingers hooking in the fabric of his shirt. He hums, teasing the nipple lightly with his teeth before he draws back. His kisses trail up your neck, brushing over your throat.

“Your bruises are starting to fade,” He murmurs.

“Oh?”

“Mm.”

“Are you gonna fix that?”

Nathan leans up, grinning.

“Maybe later, baby.”

You reach up, shoving at his chest and urging, “Up, get up.”

Nathan shifts back, sitting on the end of the couch and pushing off his sweatpants. You draw your top off and kick away your panties before you clamber onto his lap. You steady a hand on his shoulder, reaching down and grasping his length before easing down onto it. You whine softly as you settle into his lap, as he slides his hands up your back and draws you close. You lean into him, resting your forehead against his as you begin to roll your hips.

“Come on,” Nathan urges, “You can do better than that.”

You laugh a little, resting your hands on the back of the couch.

“I’m doing exactly what I want.”

“I want more.”

“Well that’s too damn ba—ad! Fuck!” You whimper as he grasps your hips, steadying you and snapping his hips up harshly. Your mouth falls open as he takes control of the pace, fucking up into you almost punishingly.

“Nathan, goddamnit,” You breathe as his fingers press more hardly into your hips.

“You close?” He murmurs.

“N-no.”

“Too bad.”

“What do you—mean, oh, you piece of shit,” You whine as Nathan tips his head back, his hips jolting harshly as he spills into you. You reach down to play with your clit, but Nathan shoves your hand away and pushes your hips up. You frown, confused as Nathan slips down, then grin as he shoves the coffee table back. He sends it scattering as he slides down and lowers himself to sit on the floor, resting his head on the cushion and dragging your hips down to his lips. Your fingers flex in the fabric of the cushion as you peer down at Nathan. His tongue swipes across your cunt before he gives your lips a sucking kiss. Your hips quiver as he swipes his tongue against your tingling clit. You grind greedily against his questing tongue and lips, chasing your pleasure.

“Almost,” You warn. Nathan hums against you, hurriedly lapping his tongue against your clit and grasping your hips to draw you even closer. A stunned moan leaves you as he sucks your clit, lashing his tongue against it until you’re shaking, hips rabbiting against him. Nathan moans, tipping his head to and fro and nuzzling your tender flesh as you ride out your orgasm. You push yourself off of him, flopping back onto the couch. It takes Nathan a moment to push himself up, and you groan as he drops himself on top of you.

“Noooo,” You groan, “Get off’a me.”

“Why.”

“I’m all hot and sticky.”

“I know.”

“So are you.”

“I know,” Nathan grins, nuzzling up against you and pressing closer. You whine, kicking your feet irritatedly.

“You’re awful,” You mumble, looping your arms around his shoulders regardless. He grunts, peppering your neck with tender kisses.

“I know that, too.”

“I’m going to have to tell her.”

“Have to?”

You meet Nathan’s eye in the mirror as you dab foundation over the newly blooming bruises on your neck.

“Have to,” You nod.

Nathan leans in the doorway of the bathroom, watching you closely. He seems to be considering it before he nods a little.

“Alright.”

“Are you okay with—”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“What are you going to tell her?”

“That…That we fuck.”

“Okay.”

“What else would I tell her?”

“No, that’s accurate. I was just curious.”

“We can talk about the verbiage—”

“We fuck,” He agrees. “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” You nod, directing your gaze back toward the mirror and pumping some more foundation onto your beauty blender.

“That what you’re going in?”

You glance down toward your outfit—your jeans, and one of Nathan’s t-shirts.

“Yeah,” You shrug. “We’re just grabbing bagels, nothing fancy.”

“Are you gonna be long?”

“Jeez,” You laugh. “No, dad.”

“Hey,” He pushes off of the door frame, sauntering closer. “We’ve only got a couple more days here. I’m heading back soon.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“So I told you, I won’t be long.”

“Good.”

“You’re such a big baby,” You mumble as Nathan cuddles up against your back. You smile as his hands smooth over your hips and belly.

“You’re a goody two-shoes that can’t lie to people.”

“Yeah, god forbid I have a conscience. I’m really not coming up with the short end of the stick here.”

“You aren't coming up with the short end of anything,” Nathan murmurs, rolling his hips against you. You snort, swatting back at him.

“Cut it out, you perv. I’m gonna be late.”

“...Are you going to say anything?”

You don’t think she will for a few long moments. Jenn’s expression is frighteningly unreadable. She roughly swallows the large bite of bagel that she'd taken before she clears her throat, setting the bagel back down.

“Let me get this straight,” She leans back in her seat. “You have spent the last…What, three and a half years telling me, swearing up and down that you hate him—”

“I think ‘swearing’ is a little strong—”

“—And now you’re telling me that you’ve been fucking him? For a year?”

“...Ish,” You nod, “It’s, um…Maybe closer to a year and a half. Although—That’s elapsed, if we went by the amount of time we actually spent, it’s probably closer to…Six months?”

“Oh, if it’s elapsed.”

“Yeah.”

“Well that makes it sooo much better.”

“Yeah, I thought it—...You’re being sarcastic.”

“God, you’re so smart.”

“Look, Jenn, I know this seems kinda bad on the face of it—”

“It doesn’t seem bad. It is bad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, that makes me feel much better.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You knew that I liked him!”

“...Yeah,” You lower your gaze to your untouched food. “I did. What I did was shitty, I’m not pretending it’s not. I should’ve told you after the first time it happened, and it shouldn’t have happened again. Frankly, it…It probably shouldn’t have happened at all.”

Jenn pushes a sigh through her nose as she raises her hands, scrubbing them over her face.

“Do you like him?” She asks after a few moments.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

She shoots you a disbelieving look as she lowers her hands, and you hold your own up in concession.

“I think, it’s just…” You consider for a few moments. “When it started, it was…Angry. I was angry, I was mad at him, and the sex kinda worked some of that out. I’m not mad at him like that anymore. I’m not even angry about that entire situation anymore, I’m…I guess I like him,” You finally concede. “Not like-like—Christ, I sound like a teenager, I just mean, um…” You shake your head. “We’ve reached…An amicable place.”

“And that place is his bed?”

You bite back a laugh as you nod a little bit, “Sometimes.” You watch Jenn for a few moments, taking in the furrow of her brow and the thin press of her lips. “How pissed are you?”

“...I’m not gonna pretend I’m happy about it.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know. I honestly didn’t think it would keep happening, but it did.”

“Even now?”

“...Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Sorry.”

Jenn huffed a stunned laugh, shaking her head.

“I need to process this.”

“I totally get that. Take your time.”

“Gee, thanks for your permission.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“...Are you wearing his shirt?”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Talk about it anyway.”

You roll your eyes, looking down at Nathan. His chin is resting on your belly, smoothing his hands along your thighs. You sigh softly, shifting slightly under him.

“It could’ve been worse,” You concede. “She didn’t, like…Flip, but she wasn’t happy about it. Obviously.”

“Didn’t think she would be.”

“No, me neither.”

“Well thanks, Mr. Smarty Pants.” You sigh, smoothing your hand over his head and honing in on the feeling of the his buzzed hair against your palm. “I’m gonna have to give her space for a while.”

“She ask you to?”

“No, but when Jenn is mad like this, she needs…Time. She comes back to me, not the other way around. I can’t push.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

Maybe he means it as a harmless hypothetical, but the prospect makes you feel queasy. It’s a thought that you’ve been grappling with all afternoon, that had caused tears to prickle in your eyes as you’d driven back to Bateman’s place. You shake your head wordlessly, swallowing thickly and directing your gaze toward the ceiling.

“Okay,” He concedes. You smooth your hand down to his nape, letting your eyes close as you draw in a deep breath. It’s strange to find comfort in the way Nathan covers your body with his and nuzzles into your neck. He shouldn’t be so sweet with you, not after everything that the two of you have been done. But he cuddles close nonetheless, taking your hands in his and settling into silence.

“You gonna miss me?”

He is teasing now. You glance up from your laptop as you sit on Nathan’s bed, watching him sort through his dresser drawers and draw out a few items to pack for his trip home.

“...Yeah,” You admit after a few moments. “I think I am, a little bit.”

He casts a surprise glance over his shoulder.

“You can always come up and see me.”

“After the week off I just took? No, I don’t think I always can.”

“Figure of speech.”

“Inaccurate.”

“You gonna cry when I take off? Throw yourself onto the tarmac in front of the jet?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m gonna actually stay here, waste away in this bed without you.”

Nathan turns toward you again, tossing a shirt in the direction of the duffel bag before he climbs onto the bed beside you.

“Close it,” He urges.

“Almost done here.”

“Close it now.”

“If you shut it on my fingers and throw it again, I’m gonna punch you in the nards.”

Nathan snorts, sliding down against the headboard and resting his head on your shoulder. You can’t help but smile at the warmth and weight of him beside you, and the way he repositions his head to get more comfortable. You finally finish your email before you make a big show of closing the laptop and setting it aside.

“Can I help you?”

Nathan turns his head, nudging his nose against your neck.

“You could stay here,” He offers.

“I like my place. Besides, I don’t have any of my shit here. I’ve been wearing your clothes, like, all week.”

“I know. Looks good.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“I don’t wanna stick around when you’re not here, Nathan.”

“And if I am around?”

“...Might be nice,” You shrug, looking down at your discarded laptop. “But you’re not around much.”

“That could change.”

Your stomach flips at the assertion, and as Nathan looks up at you, you force a neutral expression.

“If it’s in the best interest of the company, then sure, I guess,” You excuse. You finally chance a glance toward Nathan, and find him watching you closely.

“...I’d like it,” You admit softly. Nathan nods, murmuring, “Alright.”

You nod, looking down at your lap. You'd said three little words, but they feel so dangerous. Your nerves turn to the fluttering of butterflies as he presses a tender kiss to your jaw.

“You’re just adorable,” Nathan murmurs, and you grin at the mocking sincerity in his tone.

“Yeah, well. You’re short.”

Tag list: @missredherring; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychelsea ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @aellynera ; @writefightandflightclub ; @thedukeofcaladan ; @beepboopyoda ; @foxilayde ; @revolution-starter ; @rachelwritesstuff ; @queen-of-elves

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #Three Years

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greenhikingboots · 1 year

Text

Jon’s Pre-Canon Crush

Okay, Jonsa fam. I’ve seen a lot of great posts, especially in the last few months, about Jon’s reactions to Val. Among them, there’s one particular vein I like to assume everyone loves as much as I do. That is, when Jon thinks of Val’s hair as silver vs. when he thinks of it as the color of dark honey. You’ve seen those metas, right? They explain the likelihood of Jon’s future connection to Dany being negative — The air tastes cold. / My tongue is too numb to tell. All I taste is cold. — while his future connection to Sansa will be positive — It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Well, in this post I want to expand on the angle of Val-is-sometimes-a-stand-in-for-Sansa. Only, I don’t want to speculate on what will happen between Jon and Sansa in the future, if we ever get GRRM’s last two books. Enough people have already done that, and they’ve done it so wonderfully that I have little to add. Instead, as the title of this post says, I want to focus on Jon’s pre-canon crush. More specifically: I want to focus on what Jon’s thoughts and feelings about Val say about his thoughts and feelings about Sansa.

But let me lay some groundwork first, okay? Until a few weeks ago, I went back and forth on pre-canon crush theories. I agreed they held a lot of potential and were a lot of fun to daydream about — a great premise for a one-shot, to be sure! Oh, and I’ve always loved it when people said things like, “Hey, Jon, your Targaryen is showing.” That’s classic stuff. But did I really think GRRM meant to hint at prior feelings rather than just laying a foundation for future feelings? Again, until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t totally convinced either way. But now I am fully committed to the Pre-Canon Crush Camp, assigned to cabin Jon-Had-Feelings-for-Sansa. [Did Sansa have feelings for Jon too? Ummm maybe? I think there’s some evidence to support that, but not as much. But, hey, that’s not the point of this post. Sorry. Moving on.] So what changed? Well, basically some ideas I’d previously had sunk in on a deeper level. It started with this post from @sherlokiness. It talks about GRRM commenting on a discrepancy in the books, two occasions where Jeyne Westerling’s physical descriptions do not match up. GRRM said the discrepancies were a mistake, a really unfortunate one because it distracts from the times when he intentionally included discrepancies of physical appearances. And basically us Jonsas loved it. Like, “Yep! Make sense! We assumed as much already, Mr. Martin.” And that’s because of the canon line mentioned earlier, right? You know the whole thing, don’t you? Oh, but you want me to quote it here anyway? Okay, fine, I’ll oblige.

They [Ghost and Val] look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white [bleh, bleh, bleh] …but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Direwolf. Lots of white. Suspicious ellipses. Blue eyes. Long braid the color of dark honey. Right, okay, got it. [BTW. Did you know there’s also a point, early on, where Val’s described as having high cheekbones? You know, a feature Sansa has as well!?!?] Anyway, when I saw sherlokiness’s post about GRRM’s comments and the Jonsas relating it to that canon scene with Ghost and Val, I reblogged it. Naturally. And in the tags I said something like, “I’ll have to double check but I’m pretty sure the willowy creature line comes after this line. As in, maybe Jon knew exactly who Val reminded him in that moment and he was trying to talk himself out of his pre-canon crush coming back to the surface.” I’m paraphrasing here. My tags were probably not as clear as that. Also, I was being a bit facetious. It was a thought I’d had before, but just a passing one. Again (AGAIN! Do I say that too much?), I’d been going back and forth about pre-canon crush theories for a long time. But @agentrouka-blog saw my tags and was like, “You might be onto something there.” And then @zimshan saw my tags too and did the double check for me. Thanks! And guess what? GUESS WHAT, JONSA FAM!? I was right about the order. First, Jon sees Ghost and Val, thinks her eyes are blue and her hair is like dark honey, and it is a lovely sight. Second, this line:

Val looked the part [of a princess] and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

But guess what else? The order isn’t even the most striking thing. The most striking thing is how closely these two lines appear to one another — within just a few pages!!! That's what zimshan said. So I went back to read it myself. Not just the two lines to check the order, but a little before, and a little after, and everything in between. If you want, you can do the same. It’s ADWD Jon XI.

Want to know what stuck out to me most? The willowy creature line actually seems… so odd, and out of place, and unnecessary. I swear to you. Let me try to explain.

Basically, by that point in the chapter, Jon has already clearly established his take on Val. She’s beautiful, everyone knows it, but she’s more than that. She’s strong and capable. She found Tormund and brought him back to Castle Black when Jon’s Night’s Watch Rangers couldn’t manage it. Like, Jon’s thankful for Val, okay?

Oh, and he also seems aware that he holds her in higher regard than the rest of the men who keep calling her a princess even though she’s not one. I think he feels smug about it, to be honest. Like, he wouldn’t use these words because it’s ASOIAF, but he knows he’s a budding feminist and he’s proud of himself for it. Like, “I’m so much better than these asshats who don’t respect women and think all Val has to offer is her pretty face.”

How great is that? I love book Jon so much.

Where was I, though? Oh! Oh, oh, oh! This next part is key. Up until the willowy creature line, Jon has not had a single disparaging thought about Val. Val being cruel about Shireen’s greyscale hasn’t happened yet. But for some reason — *Getting too executed. Brain malfunctioning!*

AH! I SWEAR JONSA FAM! If you read the willowy creature in fuller context, it comes across as if Jon’s correcting himself for having a disparaging thought about Val, like he’s reminding himself of who she truly is. She’s a warrior princess, not a willowy creature. But like, why? Why does Jon feel the need to do this? He hasn’t had a disparaging thought about Val, so why correct himself as if he has?

Just because she’s beautiful? Just because he’s tired of other men calling her a princess? I mean, I guess that could be the whole story. That’s certainly how we’re supposed to take it, if we’re taking it at face value. But I’m not convinced. Go read it again, and I think you’ll see that when the willowy creature line happens, it actually feels like a weird logic leap.

The dots aren’t connecting because one dot is missing!!!! Let me put a pin in that for a moment while I turn to other mini metas in our Jonsa fandom. Antis like to say, “Jon doesn’t like girls like Sansa. He doesn't like willowy creatures, he said so himself.” But we know that’s crap, right? The boy who liked Ygritte’s gentle side? The boy who helps Alys Karstark by marrying her to Sigorn? The boy who dreamed his mother was a highborn lady with kind eyes? The boy who wanted to show his hypothetical wife Winterfell’s glass gardens and bath with her in the hot pools?

Yeah, that boy is a budding feminist, like I said.

So again I ask (AGAIN!) why would Jon — who is not especially critical of women in general and has not been critical of Val at all up to this point — feel the need to correct himself by thinking this critical thing about willowy creatures? In other words, why does he lift up Val by putting down some vague idea of other women he’s never had a problem with before?

Well, obviously it turns out that I believe my facetious, tongue in cheek tags more than I realized when I wrote them. My position is that somewhere in the two pages between ...a long while since Jon had seen a sight so lovely… and ...not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair… Jon realized Val reminded him of Sansa, he felt guilty and ashamed about it, and then felt the need to do damage control. And because guilt and shame are icky, confusing feelings, his damage control took the form of being critical of Sansa even though he isn’t normally critical of such women.

Am I making sense? How do I explain myself further? Like, why am I so stuck on this idea Jon’s willowy creature line being two pages after the Ghost and Val looking lovely together line must mean Jon had a pre-canon crush?

I think the crux is what I said about the willowy creature line feeling like a weird logic leap — like the dots aren’t connecting because one is missing. The missing dot is Jon being aware that he’s mentally swapped Val with Sansa. He just doesn’t acknowledge this on the page.

Let me be extra clear. I’m now differing from several others who have written about pre-canon crush theories in that I think Jon was aware of his crush. I’ve seen many say it’s all subconscious. But this stuff with Val makes me think otherwise.

I mean, I know Jon has a pattern of dissociation. For him, thinking, and speaking, and acting from his subconsciousness is a common occurrence. So, yes, he could have subconsciously thought Val looked like Sansa and subconsciously felt guilty and ashamed and therefore subconsciously decided to do damage control by subconsciously reminding himself Val is a warrior princess and therefore not a willowy creature.

But I think GRRM was hinting at an exception to Jon’s pattern with these canon lines. Because if the first part is happening subconsciously — Jon thinking Val looks like Sansa and that it’s a lovely sight — then he wouldn’t feel the need to do damage control afterwards? If he wasn’t aware of thinking of Sansa in that moment, isn’t it more likely he’d just carry on with taking Val to meet Selyse, and the odd, out of place, unnecessary line about a willowy creature wouldn’t have been included? What else, what else?

I said earlier that I think Jon’s crush is an innocent, not sexual thing. Let me expand on that. And uuuuuhhhhh... let me clarify that I think that might be changing some over time. My guess is when Jon was younger, his thoughts were more along these lines: “Sansa is pretty, and a proper lady, and everything men are taught to want. She’ll be a good wife for someone someday. Obviously not me. That’s sinful, I don’t want it, and I’m a bastard so I can’t marry a highborn lady anyway. But objectively, Sansa’s a good catch.” Which kinda matches how Jon thinks of Val at times, right? Like, she’s a catch but he doesn’t want her. He’s not taking Winterfell and a Wife because Winterfell belongs to Sansa and he’s a man of the Night’s Watch, dammit! But hang on a second. Sometimes Jon’s thoughts about Val are more elicit, aren’t they? He thinks about the size of her breasts and she’s the hypothetical wife he pictures romancing in Winterfell. Don’t worry, I’m not saying I’m secretly a Jon/Val shipper. What I’m getting at is this other thing we’ve talked about in the Jonsa fandom. Jone projects his general desires onto Val. He’s getting older. He’s unhappy at the Wall. Winterfell isn’t Robb’s like he thought it would be, and Bran and Rickon are thought to be dead. And Stannis is offering Winterfell and Val to him. Plus he’s now been intimate with a woman, Ygritte. So he knows that sex feels nice. All in all, Jon’s becoming more in tune with wanting Winterfell, and a wife, and a family, and wanting to fu—

You get the idea. ;)

Soooooo. If you buy into the premise that A) Jon considered Sansa a good catch when they were younger B) He’s thinking more and more about romance and sex C) Val is also a good catch and easy to project feelings onto and D) Woopsies, Val just reminded me of Sansa! Well, then where does all that leave Jon? Feeling like he needs to distance himself from positive thoughts about Sansa, right? But without ever thinking her name because of his pattern of dissociation and because GRRM is tricky like that. Am I making my point clearer, or just talking in circles? Like, I know plenty of people have already said Val is a switch-back-and-forth-stand-in-for-other-characters. The first two short paragraphs of this post mentions those metas. But holy smokes! If Jon is aware of A-D mentioned above, that adds a fascinating layer of subtext to his scenes with and thoughts about Val. Let’s talk about it forever!

Just kidding. I think I’m almost done here. Basically, I think the willowy creature line is Jon knowingly saying to himself, “Yikes, the thoughts I had about Sansa in the past didn’t bother me much because they were 99% innocent. But they are less innocent now and that’s a problem! You can’t like Sansa! Don’t confuse Sansa with Val, dummy! Val is a warrior princess! Sansa is a willowy creature and willowy creatures are bad!”

Okay, sure, Jon. Let me wrap up with one more canon line.

Of Sansa brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow.

We often link this line to Ygritte for obvious reasons, but I’m now in the habit of linking it more to Val and the canon lines mentioned previously. I think GRRM wrote a the three lines — a sight so lovely + willow creature + of Sansa brushing out Lady’s coat — as a subtle continuation of one another. Us Jonsas saw the potential for underlying romantic feelings in the last one, that’s nothing new. But I want to add that it’s a direct contrast to the willowy creature line. As Jon is bleeding out, he can no longer be bothered to put up a front and pretend he doesn’t have feelings for Sansa, feelings that have gotten more complicated as of late.

Oh so subtle. Really not that much different than what others have said before me. But different enough I wanted to mention it. Now someone put it in a fanfic!!

#jonsa #jonsa meta #jonsa pre-canon crush #did this make sense?#it's a blur #i almost gave up on writing it #but people seemed interested #so i hope i don't sound like a crazy person

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heyiwrotesomethings · 6 months

Note

hiii i came across your page a few months ago, and i really love the way you write these characters!

i was thinking, maybe a part 2 of “scholarships, mary saotome x she/her reader” where it basically goes into the plot of kakegurui twin and the beginning of the canon-verse?

i could imagine the reader and mary becoming friends, though a slight slow burn romance that forms along the way.

Scholarships Prt II

Mary Saotome x She/Her Reader

A/N: PrtI It’s finally done! You’d think revisiting five chapters of manga wouldn’t be that draining, but it took quite a bit of back and forth to get the important bits. Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy : ) Word Count: 3,371

“What the hell is this?” Mary deadpanned, looking around the heavily crowded room.

From day one of getting into this school it felt like she slipped out of the frying pan and right into the fire. It took everything she had just to stay out of owing someone an insane amount of money. From gambling Kokoro, to joining the Literary Club, and now being mixed up in Student Council and Full Bloom Society affairs. It felt like they could never catch a break, and if they did, it certainly never lasted. Which was what brought them to where they were now, a speed dating, coupling party gamble.

“Coupling…?” Tsuzura placed a hand over her mouth.

“You got to be kidding me!” Yukimi gawked, “How can you go out with a guy you don’t even know?!”

“Right? Is it too late to back out?” (Y/n) asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“Of course we can’t back out.” Mary groaned. “What the hell did Aoi get us into?”

“Hello.”

“Gah!”

Mary put a hand to her heart, (Y/n) put a hand on her back to help steady her.

“Mikura? What are you doing here?” Mary asked.

“Looking for a boyfriend?” (Y/n) guessed.

“Ugh, no. Gross.” Mikura shuddered, “I’m here on school business. This is Juraku-sama’s event.”

“Of course it is,” (Y/n) sighed, “Can’t escape the council for a minute.”

“Anyway,” Mikura looked down at her clipboard, “there are only four of you, correct? I’ll have to introduce you to a fifth. It looks like Chitose would be an easy addition.”

“Hi, that would be me!”

The Literary Club peered around Mikura to the new addition to their group, a girl with a pin-straight bob. She looked friendly enough at least.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted. The game will begin shortly.” Mikura took her leave and Chitose took the floor.

“Is this all your first time at this event?”

“Yeah, how does this work exactly?” Yukimi asked.

Chitose explained the premise excitedly. Basically, if they matched with a boy, they would have to pay out. If they didn’t match, the boys would have to pay out. Seemed simple enough.

“So, are you guys playing for love, or money?” Chitose asked excitedly.

“The money.” All four girls replied in near perfect unison, causing Chitose’s shoulders to slump.

“Fine…” she sighed, “Let’s get this over with.”

Chitose lead them to the group of boys they had been paired with for the game and the MC for the event a announced the start of the chat period.

Kuonji, Sera, Kochi, Musubi and Kibashira introduced themselves, soon giving the floor to the girls to do the same. Chitose really hammed up her introduction, so much so it was hard to tell if she was acting or not.

Mary decided to talk about running the Literary Club’s gambling den, a safe option, she figured.

“That’s gotta be tough,” Kibashiba acknowledged with a low whistle, “You must like quick-witted guys then, huh?”

“No, not really…”

“Oh, then what kind of guy do you like?”

“Um…” Mary was going to bullshit the boy, say something shallow, but she happened to notice (Y/n) move in her periphery, sifting her position a little, probably in an attempt to be a bit more comfortable during this awkward game. As her thoughts were drawn to (Y/n), her answer morphed.

“Maybe someone honest?” Her face warmed. Why did I tell him the truth?! She fretted internally as Musubi jumped in to ask Tsuzura questions, swooning over the girl’s ability to cook and sew.

“And what about you, (Y/n)-san?” Kochi piped in, “What do you like in a guy?”

Mary’s ears perked and she glanced at (Y/n) through her periphery.

“Well,” (Y/n) rubbed the back of her neck, “I guess I’d like someone who doesn’t leave the people that care about them behind. Someone loyal.”

Mary wasn’t completely aware of it, but her heart skipped a beat. A small, almost victorious-looking smile appeared on her face.

The chat session wrapped up soon after Yukimi’s introduction and the two groups parted ways momentarily for the group discussion period.

“So, about the rules…” Mary began once they were in their own little corner of the room, “A wager wasn’t mentioned, so how does that work exactly?”

“It was on the entry form, didn’t you read it?” Chitose asked.

“We got a separate invite.” Mary explained.

“Ah, well, it’s a million yen per bet.”

The group stiffened. A million yen?! For speed dating?! Aoi was throwing them out to the deep end with this gamble.

“We’ll have to use the dine out discount.” Yukimi said after doing a bit of quick mental math. “It’ll be just enough to cover the cost.”

“What if we just went straight for the sleepover?” Tsuzura asked much too casually.

“Huh?!?!”

“Tsuzura?!”

“What?!”

“It’ll help us save money, right? And if we’re all in the same room, won’t that be super fun?” She gushed, “I haven’t had a sleepover since elementary school!”

“Are you for real right now?” Mary sighed, resting her face against her open palm.

“Oh my sweet summer child…” (Y/n) said sympathetically, not really wanting to burst Tsuzura’s bubble.

Yukimi couldn’t sit by and let the poor girl live in ignorance and whispered what the wager would really mean. (Y/n) and Mary watched in real time as Tsuzura’s face morph from cheerful to frazzled embarrassment in a matter of seconds.

“She really had no idea, huh?” Mary shook her head.

“Poor girl.” (Y/n) concurred.

“Anyway…” Mary cleared her throat, “I think it’ll be in our best interest to avoid making couples in order to make the most money we can. So that means we should all pick different guys to keep the matches down to a minimum. We can do a random draw to decide who “confesses” to who, but I think it’ll be best to make sure Tsuzura doesn’t get matched with Musubi.”

“Yeah, he definitely has a thing for her.” Yukimi chuckled awkwardly while (Y/n) was still trying to calm the girl down after the whole “sleepover” misunderstanding.

“Any other ideas?” Mary asked.

Chitose eagerly rose her hand, hoping to be paired with Kuonji and getting all blush and lovestruck just thinking about the prospect.

Mary shared a look with (Y/n) who shrugged her shoulders.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” Mary jolted the note down and then turned the paper around, showing how the “confessions” should work out. “Anyone got a problem with this set-up?”

“Nope.” The rest agreed.

As they began walking back to their table, Mary pinched the fabric of (Y/n)‘s jacket to keep her back.

“(Y/n),” she spoke in a low tone, “the two of us will switch confession targets.”

“Huh, why?”

“There is one flaw with this plan, that being spreading out like this could lead to trouble if there is a mole in our group.”

“A mole?” (Y/n) repeated in a harsh whisper. “You think someone could be working with the guys?”

“Exactly.”

“Then it would clearly be Chitose, wouldn’t it? Shouldn’t we let Tsuzura and Yuikimi-senpai in on the plan too?”

Mary shook her head, “I don’t trust Yuikimi-san yet and I don’t want to stress Tsuzura out.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to exclude her. She can handle it.“ (Y/n) tried to dissuade.

“We can’t hesitate now. If we want to win, we have to consider every possibility.” Mary stuck to her guns, getting closer and resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’re going to come out on top, we’re going to be the winners! We’re going to show these rich bastards what for, right?” She gave her a confident smile that made (Y/n)’s heart speed up.

“Right!” (Y/n) nodded resolutely, matching Mary’s competitive smile.

“Then let’s win this so we can rub it in Aoi’s face.”

The duo rejoined their group and all circled their agreed upon targets on the submission forms, except for Mary and (Y/n) of course who switched their targets, making Mary’s target Kibashira and (Y/n)’s Sera. After everything was squared away, they all sat across the table from the boys, each offering up a dinning out bonus to meet the betting requirements. They each confessed to their targets and there was a bit of an upset when Yuikimi and Tsuzura heard that Mary and (Y/n) switched targets, but that was nothing compared to the upset that occurred when it was the boys’ turn to reciprocate or reject… that’s when things started to get messy.

One after the other, instead of falling through, the couplings were perfect matches. Though unfortunate, it was exactly what Mary had anticipated. What she hadn’t anticipated however, was for her and (Y/n)’s targets to match them as well.

“No…” (Y/n) sunk in her chair, joining Yuikimi and Tsuzura’s anxious expressions. “It’s impossible. Everyone?”

“Congratulations.” Mikura drawled, “Five couples have been formed.”

“Bullshit!” Mary stood, slamming her palms against the table, “This is all a fraud! We couldn’t have all coupled by chance! Even if one of us was tipping the guys off, (Y/n) and I switched to avoid just this scenario!” She yelled at Miruka. “You rigged it! Wouldn’t be the first time—“

“Is there a problem, Mary?”

Juraku Sachiko sidled up to the table, compelling Mary to grind her teeth together, eyes blazing with fury.

“Of course there is! You rigged this game!”

“Such baseless accusations.” Sachiko smirked. “We aren’t rigging anything. I can guarantee you that.”

“Do you really think I’d believe that!” Mary sneered.

In a second, Sachiko was looking over her with a devilish smile.

“Oh Mary, there is a far more simpler possibility, don’t you think? Surely you aren’t that incompetent?”

Another… possibility… Mary’s mind whirred with possibilities. The student council, Aoi and the Full Bloom Society… but then her eye caught (Y/n) helping Tsuzura dry her tears and her chest tightened.

No… was (Y/n) the traitor? Couldn’t be… they were fellow scholarship students united in their second class status to the high society high rollers, more than that, they were friends. They had triumphed and lost together time after time they always had each other’s backs. They had made plans to be winners, to be respected… but had those boys offered (Y/n) something better? Something so good that she would send Mary and the others floating down the river without blinking?

Her heart physically hurt, she had pegged (Y/n) as a honest person, someone to confide in. She was the only person she had trusted with this plan so logically… it had to be her. Mary clenched her fists. (Y/n) was the mole!

Meanwhile, (Y/n) was having her own similar crisis, believing that Mary had cut her own deal. Mary had left her behind… she wasn’t loyal at all! She could feel angry and disappointed tears stung at her own eyes, but she kept them at bay and continued tending to Tsuzura.

“Round two is fast approaching ladies, what will you do?” Sachiko smirked, tapping her chin. “You already blew the money Aoi gave you. If you don’t think of something quick, you’ll all be house pets.”

Mary paled. “But 2 million yen…” They didn’t have that kind of money just laying around… suddenly they were approached by someone in the crowd who introduced herself as Kurumi.

“I don’t mind spotting you all 200,000 yen, but as for the rest… if you bet on the sleepover that should cover it.” She smirked.

“That should work just fine.” Sachiko purred.

“Mary?” Tsuzura sniffled. “What should we do?”

(Y/n) looked a Mary with an impassive expression that further irked and pained Mary. Likewise, the hot fury Mary aimed (Y/n)’s way made her feel even more numb. Though divided, they shared the exact same thought.

Who were they supposed to believe in?

“Mary?” Tsuzura pulled Mary from her thoughts with a cautious calling of her name, “We’re doing round two, right? Applications are closing soon, so we should hurry.”

“I need a minute to think.” Mary murmured distantly.

“But we’re out of money, so we’ll have to join, right? I’ll sign us both up—“

“I told you to wait!” Mary yelled, causing Tsuzura to flinch.

“Hey, you can’t talk to her like that!” (Y/n) yelled back.

“As if you care about any of our feelings!” Mary hissed, striding closer to (Y/n) with a sneer, “how about you do me a favor and stop pretending that you’re on my side!”

“Oh, that’s really rich coming from you! You’re really going to keep up this charade until you believe it too? I hope your guilty conscious eats you alive!”

“Guys… what’s going on?” Tsuzura whimpered, not sure who to go to.

“I’m not joining the second round.” Mary coldly informed. “Don’t try to rely on me anymore.” She started to walk away, but (Y/n) called after her.

“That’s it? Now that we’re all in danger of being house pets, you’re going to walk away?” (Y/n) felt even more convinced of Mary’s betrayal now.

“I thought we were all going to be winners together.” Tsuzura said softly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“What will happen to our gambling room?” Yukimi added.

“Figure it out yourselves.”

“I can’t believe you!” (Y/n) spoke through gritted teeth.

“The Mary I know wouldn’t give up just because she thought a friend betrayed her.” Tsuzura sniffled. “You’re strong and dedicated and never give up. You always win in the end, so please, don’t give up!”

“Don’t waste your breath, Tsuzura.” (Y/n) wrapped an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her whilst glaring at Mary. “We can figure it out on our own. It’ll be easier without her betraying us.”

Something about the dead serious delivery and the pure disgust in (Y/n)’s eyes caused Mary to have an epiphany. Another possibility… she wasn’t committed to trusting them again just yet. As far as she was concerned, the only person she could trust was herself. That didn’t mean she couldn’t manipulate them to play the roles she needed them to play.

“Fine, I’ll play.”

“Mary!” Tsuzura looked relieved until Mary stared them down.

“I won’t lose just because one of you stabbed me in the back. I’ll teach you all a lesson you’ll never forget.”

“Right back at you!” (Y/n) shot back.

Mary ended up taking the lead of the group and left (Y/n) on the outs, though it didn’t seem she was letting anyone else in on everything she was planning either. As mad as (Y/n) was at Mary however, it still hurt when she lead the group away from her to discuss turn order and confession targets.

(Y/n) motioned Yuikimi and Tsuzura to join Mary and Chitose, assuring them that she’d be fine on her own. She trusted them to find a way to tell her if something went awry. She took a deep breath, and brainstormed her own course of action.

Before long, they were all seated at the table again, each offering up the sleepover option to cover their lost wagers. (Y/n) and Mary studiously ignored each other as the set up occurred, but when the last person was seated, Mary spoke up, leaning over so she could look at (Y/n) who sat on the other side of Tsuzura and Yukimi.

“Hey,” she said gruffly, “I just want to say, I don’t care what you do. Just know that we are going to be the winners, got it?”

(Y/n) wanted to say something snarky in return, but something about the way Mary’s inflection changed slightly when she said ‘we’ gave (Y/n) pause.

“Only one way to find out.” She grumbled. “Let’s get this over with.”

Chitose confessed first, matching with Sera. Then it was (Y/n)’s turn. Really it was a one in five shot that she picked wrong. She assumed Mary still wanted everyone to stick to one target to minimize matches. So if there was a mole, she shouldn’t have to worry about multiple guys targeting her.

“Here goes nothing,” she audibly exhaled, “I’ll confess to Musubi-san.”

The boys looked disappointed, but didn’t seem too heartbroken, like they expected it wouldn’t be likely that they would have a match with her, but then it was Yukimi’s turn and when she said she would be confessing to Kibashira, it caused an uproar as if they expected a different answer. Then Tsuzura upset the boy’s expectations even further by also confessing to Musubi. Then finally, it was Mary’s turn.

“Musubi-san,” she smirked, “you’re getting rather popular, huh? That makes me a little jealous because,” she presented her paper for all to see, “I picked you too.”

“There is only one successful coupling.” Miruka observed. “Congratulations, Sera-san and Inui-san.”

(Y/n) took a breath of relief and after a moment, Mary started snickering.

“You guys are so dumb, you know that?” She asked pointedly to the boys and Chitose. “I knew you were the mole, Inui-san. Once I took the time to actually think about it, it was the only thing that made sense.”

Sh got up from her seat and walked over to (Y/n), placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I should have realized right away. (Y/n) wouldn’t betray me like that and I owe her a big apology. I was being a narrow-minded idiot.”

“Mary…” (Y/n)’s hand moved to rest atop Mary’s, “I’m sorry too. You’ve never turned your back on us before, so why start now? We were both being dumb.”

“We were… but we managed to course correct and it’s thanks to these idiots,” she sweeps her hand over to the boys and Chitose still looking angry and shocked, “that we just made a damn fortune! Thanks sooo much!” She teased.

“Enough jeering.” Miruka sighed, “The second round has concluded. All arrangements of wagers will be dealt with promptly.”

Once everything was squared away, the four friends left the event hall, exhausted but satisfied that they had won out in the end.

“Hey guys…” Mary stopped walking, making the other three turn around, “I just wanted to apologize for how I acted today. I suspected you all in one way or another even though you guys have never given me a reason to doubt you in the past.” She bowed at the waist, “I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I probably would have though the same thing.” Yukimi said.

“Mary!” Tsuzura hugged her, “I was so afraid! I thought you had given up on us!”

“It was pretty rough, but I think we’re a much stronger team now.” (Y/n) simpered.

“I promise I’ll never doubt you guys again.”

“Alright, give me some room, Tsuzura. I want in on this too.” (Y/n) worked her way into the hug, making Mary blush.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“You never give out hugs. Have to take advantage when I can!” (Y/n) teased, hugging Mary tighter and enjoying every second of it. “Right, Tsuzura?”

“Mhm! Yukimi, come join!”

“Alright!” Yukimi joined in on the hug, making Mary more exasperated.

“Hey! You guys! Come on!” Mary flustered, “You guys?!”

***

The only sound was the clatter and clink of silverware.

Though they had won when it mattered most, they still owed the boys a dinner date. No one was particularly excited, but free food was free food to Mary and (Y/n).

“Alright, well, I’m full.” Mary stood once she finished her plate.

“Me too, thanks for the meal.” (Y/n) stood as well, followed shortly by Yukimi and Tsuzura.

Tired from the intense gamble the day before, it was pretty much a given that they would all go to their respective homes to rest and enjoy the rest of their weekend without any other obligations. (Y/n) and Mary waved goodbye to the others as their bus pulled away from the curb.

“Hey,” Mary spoke once the bus started rolling down the street, “want to see a movie or something?”

(Y/n) felt her heart flutter a bit. “Sounds fun. We should have asked Yukimi-senpai and Tsuzura if they wanted to come.”

“They can tag along another time. We don’t have to do everything together all the time.” She rolled her eyes and looked out the window. “So, what movie do you want to see?” She mumbled.

(Y/n) leaned her shoulder against Mary’s. “I don’t know,” she smiled, “we’ll have to see what’s playing when we get there.”

#kakegurui oneshots #kakegurui x reader #mary saotome x reader #maeri saotome x reader #requests #anonymous

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zooblenation · 6 months

Text

OK GAMERS. ITS TIME. CHESIL DEAL WITH PANDEMONIUM BACKSTORY. for those of you who are new here: this is the fellow doomed to the narrative.

if you haven’t already read pandemoniums lore i suggest doing that first:

sol is also a character in chesils backstory. heres her lore! not a requirement to read to understand but shes my baby:

LETS GET RIGHT INTO IT. I’ll quickly cover his life growing up. Chesil was born into the kingdom of Canema. Ill save Canema lore for another post but heres a quick description. A desert kingdom, located inside the ravines of sandstones cliffs. The ravines were lined with houses carved out from the sandstone, and lead into a crater in the middle. In the massive crater was were the kingdoms royal family and markets were found. Canema was relatively peaceful, apart from the monster problem. Inside these ravines were cave systems loaded with unpleasant creatures who would regularly attack the kingdom. This kingdom has very few magic users in it, the most magic Chesils ever seen is maybe a traveling wizard passing through. This is where Chesils family comes in, they were the kingdoms protectors and monster hunters. (whether or not it was ethical to invade an animals home then wipe them out when they tried to protect themselves is for you to decide.) They were widely famous and known throughout Canema. heres they r!!

First is Otto Mupfordian (biological dad) Winifred (Winnie) Mupfordian (biological sister) and Farrier Mupfordian (dad who married in) . (chesils biological mom is not super relevant. one day ill make an indepth post on the family lore) Chesil was, well, a bit different from them. He was not your RAHHHHHH KILL DESTROY gym buff. If anything he was the opposite. He was incredibly shy and reserved, and would probably fall over if you asked him to hold a shield. He loved his family more than anything, and they loved him back, but it would be a lie to say he wasn’t living in their shadow. Being born into a famous family, it was a bit hard connecting with other people your age. They either expect you to be Just like your family, or only want to talk to you because they want to meet the legends themselves. Chesil lack of social skills made it hard enough, with all this piled on he tended to isolate himself. In the process of doing this, his family became his only support system. They were all he cared about. Chesil clearly did not inherit the monster hunter title, and turned to a more creative line of work. Doll making. Not children’s toys, but intricate detailed Display dolls. He was quite skillful at it too, and due to his family’s connections, he was able to find frequent commisioners. Ok. Time jump. Chesil is 20 years old. He’s not completely miserable per-say, but depressed and lonesome. At least he has his work and family, right? (incorrect buzzer sound) WRONG! Chesil has DEAD FAMILY SYNDROME. The Mupfordians were frequently invited to royal parties, and attended them accordingly. Chesil rarely joined along, parties were overstimulating and Not his thing. One night, his family went out to one. For reference, the Mupfordians lived on top of one of the cliffs, and had a path carved out for their carriage to travel down. Would be a shame if the path became unstable from wear. But haha im sure its fine. Chesil woke up the next morning to see his family had not returned yet. Not to concerning, maybe they got drunk, and decided to stay at an inn overnight. More time passes. No sight of them. Surely they would of sent a message by now if they planned to stay out longer. So chesil decided it was time to head into town an investigate. He didn’t make it very far. Following the road down, he noticed a part of it had fallen away. When he looked over the edge he saw something much worse, the carriage his family had taken to the party. And well. His Family. They did not survive the wreck. His entire world had fallen apart in the span of a few seconds. Chesil, who’s life revolved around his family, did not handle this very well at all. Sure people stopped by to pay their condolences, but he had no connection to any of them. This is where Pandemonium shows up.

Well. Kinda. Up until the week of their funeral, a strange pink cat kept appearing to Chesil. Only ever in the corner of his eye, and never for to long. He thought he was just going crazy. During his family’s funeral, he had a moment of Fuck. This is to much, I cant be here. I cant watch this. I cant do Any of this. I have nothing left. So. He planned to go home kill himself. Chesil snuck out of the funeral early and went home, and started on his note. (visuals for the audience. here is his room. he is writing the note at that desk above the bed.)

While writing the note, he once again saw the pink cat, appearing in his window. (like. INSIDE of the glass.) Instead of immediately disappearing this time, the cat started to move across the glass, and into another reflective surface in the room, and another, and another. Chesil confused and frustrated by this creature he had been haunted by for the past week, got up and chased him. He ran downstairs following this beast as he appeared in different surfaces, until the creature went inside his family’s blacksmith room. He hadn’t dared step foot in this room since they passed, it was to much of a reminder of everything they made. With a deep breath, Chesil stepped in. The cat was no longer in sight as he slowly walker through the room. He called out to the creature, to no avail. When he made it to the end of the room, he noticed one of his family’s shield’s had fallen to the floor. This is where Pandemonium fully reveals himself in the reflection of the shield, and speaks for the first time. “You caught me!” He laughs, “Now its my turn to catch you.” And with that, it reaches a paw through the shield and grabs Chesil, pulling him inside. Erm. I never drew the room Pandemonium pulls chesil into, but I imagine it looks like this. but minus the walls and instead all these stained glass panels are floating in a black void.

Chesil finds himself at the top of the stained glass stair panels, and no cat to be seen. He calls out again, to once again be met with silence. Unsure of what to do, Chesil starts down the stairs, until he is at the round panel at the bottom. (for the audience, i imagine pandemonium is on the under side of the glass panels, following chesil. heres UGLY OLD ART OF THAT. pretend theres a panel between them.)

This is where Pandemoniums walks to the right side up, and Chesil sees him Not in a reflective surface, but in his physical form. Chesil, who afore mentioned has little experience with magic, is Beyond confused, he questions the cat in a panicked tone, asking who he is. And finally the cat answers. He introduces himself as Chatté. (french word for cat. a simple and much less threatening name then Pandemonium.) Someone who is here to help Chesil! And maybe Chesil could help Him im return. Suddenly, the stained glass stairs start moving around them, and form into different shapes, so “Chatté” can share his story of Woe. (once again to the audience, the story im about to share is a Lie. Pandemonium made it up to trick Chesil. Its backstory didn’t change LOL.) He tells the tale of three wizards, who trapped him inside the mirror plane, which is why Chesil has only seen him through Reflections. Pandemonium desperately wants to be free again! And the only way he can do so is if the wizards are murdered. Then he brings Chesils family into the mix, Proposing a deal. Three lives for three lives. I revive your family, and you go out and kill the wizards to free me in return. We both win! Just dont break the deal haha therewillbeconsquences ANYWAYS. Now Chesil isn’t the violent type, but this is his Only Chance. Its this, or go back and kill himself. Begrudgingly he accepts. Pandemonium gives him a mirror, and says it will lead him to the location of the first wizard. Once that wizard is defeated, it will show the next, and so on so forth. Heres what the mirror looks like :33 but pretend those jesters chesils skipping around the middle are Pandemonium.

And poof. Chesil is shot back out of the shield, and everything is suddenly back to normal. His family is back in the house, acting like nothing ever happened. Yay! Well partial yay. Chesil now has the whole murder thing to deal with. He was made aware these fights wouldn’t be easy, and he should train himself in advance. Insert training montage here. He asks Winifred to teach him how to properly use a sword, and shes delighted to obviously. Like damn.. Chesils finally taking interest in fighting!!! During all this, Chesil gets a commission request from a theater actor to create a doll line of herself featuring the outfits shes preformed in. This is just like any other job Chesil has had, some random rich person wanting a doll of themselves. Nothing Suspicious Here. This actor goes by the name of Soleil. (YES. THE SOLEIL. erm i never made a proper design for an actor self but heres a small doodle.)

Sol presents herself as flamboyant and incredibly extroverted. She insists on having a close eye on Chesil’s creation process, finding it fascinating. Chesils used to people checking in, but Sol is definitely the most curious customer he’s ever had. Long story short, throughout the course of Chesil killing the first two wizards, they fall in love. (YURIII) Sol opens up to him more n more as he works on her dolls, and he realizes shes more than just Rich Actor! Shes actually just as insecure as he is, and she worries people only like her for the person she is on stage, her exuberant personality is more of an act than reality. they r shitty teen romance minus the teen part its just cheesy. Anyways keep this in mind, BACK TO THE HORRORS. first wizard battle! i actually have whole battle sequences written for each wizard but i am looking at the length of this already and have decided Ok maybe this can wait for another post. but in summary the wizard battles took place in arenas they created. Kinda like a soul gem in madoka where you get Pulled In. its jn an entirely different realm, so the battles themselves were pretty extravagant and had Crazy arenas. The first wizard Chesil had to kill was Etoile.

erm also heres chesils sword in detail btw. hes kills the wizards with This

The battle was successful and Chesil now has to live with that guilt forever. Yayyyyyyyyy. Onto the next victim. A wizard by the name of Lune

This time, Chesil meets him before seeing him in his wizards clothes. Because unfortunately enough, he was Etoiles husband. Lune comes to the Mupfordians after the disappearance of his husband, asking them for help. He had already been to the royal guards, but he knows the Mupfordians are the pro monster hunters, and hopes that they can keep an eye out for Etoile, in the unfortunate scenario where he may of um. Got eaten by a monster. Chesil is sweating his ASS OFF during all of this, amd seeing the consequences of his actions in real time reallyyyy take a blow on his sanity. To have to see this poor grieving husband knowing He Did it and that he was going to have to kill him Next. And the paranoia of getting caught by his Own family is now lingering over him. But haha. In to far now huh? So onwards into the next battle. Chesil fights Lune and wins. Chesils really starting to slip now. Turns out murder is taxiing. BUT IT GETS WORSE. The third wizard is revealed. Its none other than Soleil herself. The person Chesil has spent the past 6 months falling in love with. (bruh.. i have this whole thing in my mind where over the 6 months chesils craftsmenship of the soleil dolls hes been commisioned slowly gets worse n worse until she’s revealed to be the final wizard and chesil COMPLETELY breaks the doll. representative of his mental state throughout the story haha) Seeing her again after finding out is so. hard. Having to pretend everything’s normal when you know the shitstorm that is about to happen. Anyways Chesil invites Soleil out on a date. Somewhere farrrrr out, and the truth gets revealed. Commence Battle.

Unlike Lune and Etoiles battles, its not Super extra and or extravagant, its just Chesil and Soleil in an arena(tho the arena badass as fuck.), fighting with their weapons. Its much more personal and Real. Sol fights back, but is begging Chesil the entire time to stop. That maybe we can find another way. Chesil is fucking LOOSING IT BRO. And after Sol lands a nasty hit on him he Stops. He Cant Do This. He Cant Kill Her. Its To Much. Sol tries to reach out to help him up, but he instead runs off. He’s in a complete panicked state, and doesn’t know what to do. All thats going through his head is he needs to LEAVE. He needs to take his family and RUN. So he does just that. Chesil runs back home Bloody and fucked up from that battle, begging his family to get in the carriage, they are confused and incredibly concerned, but oblige. And down the hill they start, the whole scene is fast and frantic and before you know it the carriage crashes off into the same spot. Or at least it Almost does, as the carriage flys off the hill with everyone inside, it freezes in mid air. Except for Chesil, who slams down into the bottom.

omfg this art is soooo old and a bit outdated. pretend like he has a massive cut on his chest. but i drew this moment. this whole scene makes me crazy the story Ends how it Began. looping back to the original carriage crash, to show you cant ever really change fate. it’s Inevitable. Suddenly, the world starts falling apart around him. Like a stage set. Chesil is out of his mind running through this world being torn apart as he goes through it, until he curls himself up in a little ball shaking and sobbing. A familiar voice speaks and gentle paw rests on his own paw, it’s Winifred. She tells him its safe now. Its ok. Look at me. When Chesil retreats out of his shell and looks up at her, her warm smile twists into a cruel one, and the gentle grasp on his hand turns into a much harsher one, snapping back his fingers. Owie. Her whole body contorts as she turns into a much smaller form. A pink cat. Pandemonium. “Trying to run away, are we?” His voice echoes throughout the black emptiness that was once Canema. He laughs and goes on his little villain monologue. Tsk tsk tsk. Breaking your deal, well, I guess I knew it was coming. It was designed this way after all. Chesil questions what he means by designed. And the true horror of this whole situation is revealed to him. The revived family he had been living with for 6 months? Fake. The wizards? Fake. Soleil…? Fake. Pandemonium had set him up, created a deal he Knew Chesil would fail. Soleil was planted from the beginning. But god, didn’t it make a thrilling story? Wonderful entertainment. You fell for All of it. A tragic love story, having to decide between his family and love. Epic battles. Almost getting caught. Your descent into insanity. It was perfect. But now its over, and you broke the deal by trying to run. It was all an illusion! In fact Chesil, you never left that chair while writing that stupid letter. It all started from the moment you ran down the hallway chasing me. Your body has been rotting in that seat for months. And now your soul is mine, Pandemonium explains. Before Chesil has anytime to process any of this, he is turned into another one of Pandemoniums puppets and shoved into his mind prison.

hehe YUP HIS MIND PRISON IS HIS ROOM. AND HES TIED DOWN TO THE CHAIR WITH VINES. reference to him never leaving the chair and the overgrowth from the plants in his room consuming him. kicks feet back n forth. Now hes spent the last 5 years in puppet hell. n well. Its a bad ending i know. But this is just his backstory Before our cnd campaign started. He was shoved into the party as his puppet self, and a few sessions in his curse was broken (MOST FUN REVEAL OF MY LIFE. NOBODY IN MY PARTY KNEW HE WAS A PUPPET They just thought he was some crazy clown guy. Turns out hes actually a WIMPY LOSER.) And now Chesil continues his story in the campaign, shoved into a prophecy. Not even I will know where his character will go. Shrugs. Hes currently having a joker arc right now for good reasons but i’ll keep you guys updated as the sessions continue....

OMFG THIS IS SO LONG AND I GENUINELY COULD OF MADE IT SO MUCH LONGER HAHA. I could say so much abt this story BUT I HOPE U LIKE IT ITS MY BABY

#muppysocs #oc:chesil #cnd #furry oc #furry art #furry #clown #jester #\jester oc #clown oc #character design #concept art #AUGH AUGH IM CRAZY #oc:pandemonium #oc:sol

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