#from people shrugging off creatives struggling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hexgaywire · 28 days

Text

"Wedding (Photographer) Crasher"

Hex Haywire × Reader Wedding Photographer AU

»»————-　☾　————-««

Rating: Explicit

Gender: Gender neutral until Smut hits, then it's Female (you can still read it but during smut reader has a vag sorry 🧍🏻‍♂️)

Warnings: OOC Hex, Swearing, implied mentions of stalking (but not really), drinking, unprotected seggs, biting mentions, other then that it's pretty vanilla, slow burn 🗣️, happy ending 🫰

Word count: 9,364 (JESUS)

Guide to read this: "chapter will be separated with a "-" and a gap. Smut will not be marked so please be warned.

A/N: Ladies, gentleman, theys, WE FUCKING DID IT. It's a long read but honestly, and I'm biased, a good read. Thank you to @mystaposts for giving me ideas and input and genuinely letting me keep track of my progress while I write. Love you mwah. I genuinely have never written something this long and it's been a journey. I've also never written and AU this obscure before. I started this on vacation and then finished it a month after I got back LMFAO. Anyway please enjoy!

You can also read this on AO3 if you prefer that format better here

»»————-　☾　————-««

It's your friend's wedding, you're a photographer, she's having a destination wedding; how could you say no! You arrived in Mexico, struggled through customs with your broken Spanish and got to your hotel with nothing but coffee and sheer willpower alone. You text the wedding coordinator and she tells you you'll be meeting with her and the... other photographer ,which you are just NOW finding out about, at the venue to set up. You've shot weddings before; loads of times actually, it's actually one of your favorite events to photograph. You don't work for a company for a reason, you hate other people ruining your creative vision, plus once you're in the zone you hate being interrupted. Your friend left that detail out that you'd be working with.. another photographer.

You take a deep sigh, you really can't complain. It's her wedding day, you got free accommodations in exchange for taking some photos. You really can't complain. The hotel was gorgeous. It had a nice view of the city despite only being on the 3rd floor. You change and pack a bag full of all the equipment you don't wanna be taking to the venue the actual day of the ceremony and a few tripods and head off to go meet this mystery photographer you'll be working with for the weekend.

Lucky for you the venue was only a short stroll away from your accommodations. The venue vastly understated on how gorgeous it was, decked out in beautiful flowers and extravagant decor which went beautifully with the Spanish inspired build of the place, it had two staircases and a little inside balcony overlooking the venue (perfect place to shoot) which eventually led out to a huge outside balcony looking over the ocean. You pause to wonder how much this must've cost but quickly forget about it when another man walks in looking just as in awe as you probably did. He was tall, dressed in all black, messy steel colored hair, some black dispersed in different parts of his hair and the most gorgeous green eyes that peered out at you over a pair of glasses. He stares at you and before he can open his mouth the wedding coordinator runs in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was a cake mishap, it's all handled now but let me tell you I'm-" she pauses and clears her throat. "Apologizes... I see you two have at least seen each other. Y/N, Hex Haywire. Hex, This is Y/N." You glance at Hex again as he glances back at you. "I thought I'd be working alone." You respond flatly. Hex scoffs. " Me too, I wasn't told I'd be working with a rookie." Your jaw must drop to the floor because Hex gives a sly smile. "I'm a friend of the bride thank you, and also own my own photography business." You grit your teeth. "Friend of the groom. Also own my own business." He shrugs and produces a business card from his pocket holding it to your face. You roll your eyes and before you quip back on a 'my dick is bigger than your dick' contest the coordinator jumps into the conversation.

"Ehm let's get back to discussing when I'll need you." She glares at you. "Both of you." She continues. "Tomorrow we need you here early to take photos of the finished venue. There are still a lot of little details we have to get done tonight and tomorrow morning but regardless it should be more flushed out tomorrow. After that the bride and groom will get ready and respectively you'll be taking photos of the getting ready process. Then the first look both the bride and groom specifically asked for to get photographed so please be on your A game for that. Then the ceremony takes place, you'll be taking photos there during the ceremony as well as the after party. The bride also requested before the ceremony so you can take photos of the family, all the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Do you understand what's being asked of you?" The both of you nod. " Great! Feel free to get familiar with the venue, discuss how you'll be conducting the process... Civilly… please… ." The coordinator sighs before setting off to continue her duties.

You sigh, setting some of your equipment in the corner. Grabbing your camera from your bag you glance around to figure out where you're going first. Hex follows suit and the two of you stare at each for a moment. What the fuck was the bride thinking. This guy is a total dick, sure you don't know him but the vibe he gives off.. you can't quite place it but you just wanna rub his face in the dirt. So you resort to something a bit more sinister. Lying. "Honestly I don't know what the bride was thinking about getting both of us, I can handle all of this by myself. I don't work with other photographers because it makes the editing process so much worse because you walk into my shot and I have to Photoshop you out-" " I won't, I'm not an idiot." He cuts in. " I don't like other people fucking with my business either." He folds his arms. "If anyone is getting in anyone's shit it's gonna be you for sure Rookie." He states flatly before turning heel to go scout the venue. You glare and consider lying and telling your friend your flight got canceled. But you're in too deep, and she bought your flight… you're not getting out of this one easily.

"Aren't you gonna survey the area?" Hex calls down from the inside balcony. "What is your problem? I went to school for photography and have a degree. I'm not a rookie, and I'd advise you to keep your remarks to yourself." You call up before grabbing your camera from your bag to take some test shots. “Whatever you say, Rookie." Hex scoffs and before you can retort you find a good spot to test shot. You can't let some dude get in the way of your work.

A few hours pass, and you think you've mapped out a pattern that'll work best. You also found spots where photographers definitely had their tripods so you had a location for those as well. Hex has also been working diligently. He may be a dick but he's a dick who knows what he's doing at least. You can give credit where it's due even if you aren't thrilled about it. He seems to have also made peace with where he is gonna shoot. The two of you both head back to the equipment you set out and The coordinator meets you both outside on your way out. "I'll see you both here tomorrow morning! Thank you for your cooperation." You smile and begin your trek back to the hotel... But Hex is following you.

You knew it he had to be a fucking weirdo or something. After a couple minutes where it's no longer deemed a coincidence you turn around. " Do you have a fucking problem? " You ask sharply. " He looks a little taken back. "Sorry?" He looks around. "Are you talking to me?" You sigh exasperated. "Yes you, you're following and have been for the last several minutes. I knew something was off about you stalker." He laughs, your frown deepens. " This isn't funny, I don't know you and the fact that you're tailing the competition is honestly a little fucked." " What hotel are you staying at? " He asks. " I'm not telling you that. Again I don't know if you're following me or no-" " You're an actual idiot you know that? The bride and groom probably put us in the same hotel. You got your room and flight paid for by them right? " He asks with a sly smile. You wanna crawl into a hole and die. " Yep. No, that makes sense. I'm sorry I... Competition makes me kinda nasty. That was a strong accusation I was making." You laugh uncomfortably. He walks past you. "Whatever rookie. See you tomorrow. Try not to wake up late and miss work." As he walks close to the hotel and turns into the lobby you grone to yourself. You really are an idiot.

You enter the hotel, but the growl of your stomach stops you before you can even make it to the elevator. Maybe getting dinner at the hotel's restaurant isn't such a bad idea, you didn't really have time to scope out restaurants before leaving so the hotel one seemed like the safest bet . You turn to enter the restaurant adjacent to the lobby. It's a Friday night... It's fucking slammed. All the tables full wait staff looked flustered and overwhelmed. Regardless, you walk up to the host stand. "Excuse me, how long is the wait for a table for one." The host looks through a computer system on the stand. "Probably about an hour, possibly more…. though if you'd like to sit at the bar I can seat you immediately!" She responds. You shrug, it's not like you're eating with someone anyway. "That's fine, I'll take the bar seat thank you." You smile and she leads you over to almost an empty bar.

The bartender serves a few drinks and finally makes it over to you and asks what you want. You shouldn't have to be up tomorrow. "I'll take a glass of Chardonnay and..." you look down at the appetizers. "Just a side salad if you can get me that." He smiles and goes off to retrieve your items. You sigh, putting your face into your hands. You can't believe you accidentally accused your temporary coworker of stalking you and implying he'd do something to sabotage you… You groan, though it's definitely muffled by your hands.

As you stue in your misery someone sits down next to you. "Tequila shots..." The man's deep voice pauses for a second. “Two please." Your head shoots up, you know that voice. Hex tosses a sideways smirk. "You'll take a shot with me won't you rookie?" Not wanting to be rude you nod. "I thought you went up." You said softly. "I was gonna get something to eat but I saw some sad person at the bar. Had to do a welfare check." He shrugs. You snort. "I'm not sad. Just tired today has been a journey." "You must be a rookie then, can't handle a of day surveying." You roll your eyes at his remark. "Maybe it's the person I was with that made it exhausting. Has anyone ever told you, you're kinda insufferable." He laughs. "Once or twice. The bartender comes back with your drinks and food. Hex holds up his shot to yours. “Cheers."

You and Hex talk for a long time and drink a little more than you should.... Or at least you do. You feel that familiar buzz in your body as you focus on what Hex is talking about. "Anyway long story short it's kind of the groom's fault I got into photography in the first place." He's a lot more chill when he isn't in a work environment, still pretentious but the way he holds himself in a conversation is almost attractive, in fact all of him is rather attractive. You won't deny you've been sneaking glances at him all night. "Life throws stuff at you fast and it's up to you how you choose to deal with it." He smiles at you and you instinctively look away. He chuckles slightly but doesn't comment on your sudden shyness thankfully.

"So do you just do wedding photography?" You shake your head. " Nah I got a degree remember, I do headshots, family portraits, pretty much everything.... Though my dream is to travel around the world and do photography. After the wedding I wanna spend a few days here traveling around taking photos of the scenery." You respond dreamily. "You've got some strong ambition. I admire that. I'm kind of in the same boat, but primarily I do weddings." His face softens a little. "I think there's something beautiful about capturing such a precious moment between two people so in love they devote their lives to each other." You nod in agreement. "There is something definitely magical about it all. Though I wouldn't take you for much of a romantic Hex.” He shakes his head chuckling. " Can you blame me? I'm a guy with layers! I'm allowed to be a hopeless romantic aren't I?” You shrug, you honestly can't blame him.

Another glass of wine is ordered and in your head alarm bells are going off. You've been talking with Hex all night, but now there's a lull in the conversation as you look out over the now near empty restaurant you realize how late it actually is.

"Have you ever been in love?" He asks suddenly, so suddenly you almost spit out your drink. "It's a little personal to ask your temporary coworker, don't you think?" You joke. He's silent. You chuckle awkwardly before going back to nurse your final drink. You don't know if there is alcohol or something in the air but the words start tumbling out of your mouth. "I have, I think. But only once. I.... Uh met him my junior year of highschool, we instantly clicked; Only problem is he lived across the country. Told me he didn't want anything serious when I eventually cracked and confessed in college. It crushed me for a while but eventually I got over it." You muse swirling your finger around the edge of your now empty wine glass. " After that I've been kind of lukewarm about dating, I miss it though.... dating I mean.... Having a crush, feeling your stomach erupt in butterflies. I'm not the kind of person people fall in love with I guess." So respond dejectedly. A bitter feeling swells in your stomach and your eyes gloss over for a second.

Hex opens his mouth to say something but you shut him down before he can. "What about you, ever been in love?" You ask quickly. " If I answered honestly, you have to too." You add. He sighs. "I have. Many times actually, guess it's the hopeless romantic thing. Nothing's ever really worked out though." He looks over at you with a small sympathetic smile. "Love might not be for me either."

"It's a shame. All that handsomeness is going to waste." You blurt out nonchalantly before you can even process the words coming out of your mouth. Too many glasses of wine for sure. His eyebrows shoot up, you can feel the heat rise to your face. You must be drunk there, no way those words came out of your mouth. "You think I'm handsome huh?" He smirks. Annnnd the pretentiousness is back. "I need a lawyer present before I utter anything else." You mumble embarrassed. He stares at you smugly as you fidget in your bar stool. "I uh think it's time for bed. It's definitely way late. We both have to be up early anyway so uhh goodnight." You push yourself out of the bar table and immediately the alcohol hits you hard and fast. You feel your body fall.

You expect to hit the ground, you squeeze your eyes closed and brace yourself. But you don't hit the ground. Instead Hex leaps up and catches you before you hit the ground. His chest is a lot more toned than you thought, his arms are strong around you and he's warm. You look up and he looks down at you. "You okay?" Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. You push him away and nod quickly. "Completely fine. Uh Thank you. I'll uh see you tomorrow!” You retreat with your tail between your legs mentally slapping yourself for speaking too much and drinking too much.

Arriving back to your room you shower and change. You do your skin care routine and brush your teeth. You can't believe you'd be an absolute nightmare like that. All you can do is go to bed and replay the scene in your head over and over.

You almost pass Hex in the lobby, you can't tell if you were subconscious trying to block him out or you were just nervous about the job but he grabs your arm and yanks you back with a smile. "Morning Rookie." You groan. "Morning…" Hex releases your arm and hands you a coffee. “You had a rough night I'm sure, I figured I'd extend an olive branch with this.” You stare at it for a moment, a mere delayed sleepy reaction, before taking it. "Thanks." You say take a sip cautiously. "I didn't poison you, if that's what you're worried about." He jokes. "That's exactly what someone who totally poisoned me would say." You laugh. He shakes his head with a chuckle. " Let's get moving, yeah? Big day today." He states playfully nudging your arm before adjusting his backpack holding the equipment. Your heart does a weird tug in your chest at the contact. You both exit the lobby and begin your walk to the venue.

You awake the next morning with a killer headache and for a brief moment before taking an ibuprofen, you forgot about the events of last night. It wasn't until halfway through your morning shower, when you were finally awake and no longer operating on autopilot, that all the events of last night came rushing back to you. You grumble to yourself how stupid that was, no longer needing to apply blush as you put on your makeup.

As you prepare your heavier equipment and get ready you soon remember that you're in fact actually shooting with the man you drunkenly fell all over last night…. Fuck… You shake off your nerves and head down stairs.

As you approach the venue you exchange small talk with Hex. Neither of you bring up what happened last night. As much as it bothers you, it also spares you the embarrassment of having to relive those events. You hate to admit it but you actually think Hex is a decent guy. Of course you'd never admit that to him, especially on the way to a work event where you know things will get dicey. For now you just enjoy sneaking glances at him while the two of you chat.

You didn't think the venue could look any more beautiful than it did yesterday, but man were you wrong. Orange, yellow and pink flowers scattered around various parts of the venue. Fairy lights line the aisle with petals already pre-scattered on the ground. The look on your face must've given it away how breathtaking it was to you because you hear Hex snicker. "What!? It's gorgeous... You can't deny that either." You frown, folding your arms. "It is. Your face just lit up like a Christmas tree, I dunno it was just… endearing I guess..." He clears his throat. "Anyway, we have a job to do. I have my spots picked out and I would hope you do too." You nod. "Perfect. We'll check in with the coordinator after we're done." You nod again as he turns to leave. "Yeah yeah. See you in a bit.... Hexy." You smirk. He whips back around and raises an eyebrow. "Hexy?" "What, the tall booding eboy never got a cute nickname before? Besides you call me 'rookie', I think it's fair we're even on playing fields." You flip your hair before grabbing your equipment and heading to your first shooting location.

While taking your final photos at the flower arch, the bride and groom arrive with their respective groups to get ready. You hear your friend audibly gasp as she enters the venue, you could pick her voice out in a police lineup for sure. You take a few more photos and meet up with her. "Hey you! Thank you again for doing this. I hope this hasn't been too um… annoying you." She flashes you a sympathetic smile. "Eh I've managed but we definitely are having a serious talk about keeping 'surprises' from me when you get home from your honeymoon." She erupts in laughter. " Fine fine. My fiance insisted on Hex and I insisted on you; so we came to a compromise." She sighs. "I hope the two of you are getting along at least. I've met Hex a handful of times and he seems like a nice guy." She nudges you. "He is. A bit pretentious but in an insufferably charming way... I guess." She smirks. " Charming huh? He is pretty cute." You roll your eyes. "Girl you're about to get married you can't be saying stuff like that." She laughs again as you jokingly smack her hand chastising her.

"Did I hear married? If so, not yet still a couple hours to go." The groom jokes as he approaches the two of you. Hex and the coordinator in tow right behind him. "There you are, I was just about to come find you." Your friend kisses her fiance. "It's nice to see you again Hex, I'm sure you've already been thanked but I'll do it again; thank you for doing this." Hex hums. "Not a problem. I'm just happy to capture the magic for the two of you." "Hex has already shown me some of the shots he's taken of the venue unedited and they're gorgeous. I'm excited for you to see them once they're all edited." The corridentor chimes in. "Now then, your makeup artist has arrived as well as your dress, so why don't you and Y/N head off to go get ready." You nod. "I'll see you in a bit, honey." Her fiance calls out as the two of you walk off to the dressing rooms.

The two of you talk as her and her bridesmaids get ready, you snap candied moments, which is after all what you're here to do. Somehow you get roped into the conversation that happened last night. "I don't know, I'm not saying I wouldn't be opposed...to be caught in his arms again. If only he wasn't such a prick you know?" You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your friend laughs. "You always enjoyed a little bit of challenge though. Remember that asshole you dated right out of college?" "Ugh don't remind me. He was a real piece of work, we fought all the time but.... The sex was amazing and I think the only thing that kept us together for so long." You shake your head. "I guess I do have a type then. Men who get on my nerves." " Hon you definitely do, I'm glad I'm able to play therapist on my wedding day." She laughs.

The makeup artist steps back and you finally get the shot of your friend seeing herself for the first time. Tears well in her eyes. Click. You snap a photo. Just before the makeup artist chastises her. " Cry once you're down the aisle at least!" Your friend sniffles and smiles. Click. She turns around and all the bridesmaids and her mother ooo and awe at her. Her mom gives her a big hug. Click. She smiles at you. Click. You can't help but wonder in the back of your head how euphoric she must be feeling right now.

Once everyone had their fill of taking in the bride and all her glory, as she deserves, it was time for the first look.You meet back up with Hex, buzzing g with excitement. First looks are optional, not all couples do them, since it's considered bad luck to see the bride before the actual ceremony but recently it has been a trend to do first looks. "How was prep for the groom?" You ask. He smiles. "You mean letting the man get dressed and taking a few candids and then shooting the shit? It went great." You shove him and he laughs. "Bride's really pretty. I'm really happy for her. Her fiance isn't gonna know what hit him." You grin. " Are you getting soft on the job rookie?" Hex raises an eyebrow and you swat him again. " She's my friend, just this once I'm allowed to let business and work mesh this one time okay!" He shoves you this time and you both laugh. The corridentor clears her throat. The both of you immediately straighten out. " Happy to see the two of you getting along but as you've already gathered it's time to prepare for the first look." She turns to Hex. "Where's the best place for you to shoot in this area?" He points to a clearing in the hall and she nods. " Please go prepare yourself." The smile on your face wavers as Hex leaves. “As for you,” the coordinator continues. “I want you on bridesmaids and groomsmens photos. That way we aren't dragging people away from the after party to take individual pictures." " But-" "Please, Hex has this under control and will join you after the first look photos are finished." You want to protest. This is unfair. You had a really cute idea but I guess a photography degree means nothing these days. A selfish part of you, the hopeless romantic part, also wanted to see the first look. The special moments between the two before they're officially married. That selfish part of you wanting to see your long time friend and her soon to be husband light up at the sight of each other. I guess for now… You have your job to do.

You begrudgingly head off all of the flowers and fairy lights to take photos. You have to shake off your wants for a second. You're here to do a job. But why the fuck did the coordinator pick Hex- you're just as capable.

You're angry the more you think about Hex so you lock in. You get back into the zone instructing poses and filing different people in and out of shots. You're so in the zone you nearly jump 50 feet in the air as a tap on your shoulder startles you. "Woah you good?" Hex's stupid deep voice seeps into your brain. "Fine." You respond shortly before getting back to work. "Do you need any help?" "No Hex I don't. I've got this okay. I'm almost done anyway." He nods slowly. "Do you at least wanna take a short break? I can show you some raw shots of the first look. They turned out really cute, I think." Your jealousy rears its ugly head again and you glare at him "No! I don't care about your stupid photos okay. Please just go get set up for the ceremony." "Jesus Christ rookie, you don't have to bite my head off. Alright I'll see you later when you decide to play nice again." You admit you definitely lashed out at him a bit. Were you a bit jealous, absolutely, but taking it out on him after you guys finally became civil definitely wasn't the answer. You watch him walk away, you open your mouth to call out to him but the group of eyes waiting for their pictures to be taken stop you. You'll have to apologize later.

Guests start arriving shortly after you're done with your photos and you set up your location to shoot during the ceremony. Across the room Hex is setting up a tripod on one of the balconies to take automatic photos so he can be on the ground when the ceremony actually starts. You can't help but keep glances up at him. You feel awful about what happened. You go to set up your last tripod on the balcony to do the same thing he was planning to do. As you climb the stairs, he descends, you open your mouth again no words come out, he walks right past you. Doesn't even glance in your direction. Did you strike a cord? You were rude, sure, but you did mention you can be an ass. It still doesn't make it right but. Argh this is so stupid none of this would've happened if you had gotten to take those first look photos. You contemplate going after him explaining why you're upset and fixing this, but the pull of the job grapples you to continue.

You glance down over everyone chatting and finding their seats as you set your own camera on the tripod to automatic. There's something about a wedding that always makes you feel melancholy in the most gut wrenching way. Maybe it's the fact you've been single for so long now that a wedding seems unattainable. It's selfish but you can't help it. That familiar ach twists in your stomach. This one isn't jealous or butterflies, this one is just pure hurt.

You descend down the steps. You retrieve your bag to grab the camera you'll be using for the ceremony. Just as you're about to head to your shooting location you spy Hex. He's there chatting with a few of the other guests. One girl in particular catches your eye. You've seen her before somewhere on your friend's Instagram… She hugs Hex and is oddly touchy with him. He ruffled her hair affectionately before walking away. Your gut lurches again at the interaction but you ignore it. It's almost show time anyway pretty soon you won't have to worry about Hex Haywire, and this will be just a bittersweet memory.

The ceremony starts and you and Hex spring into action. The bridesmaids and groomsmen make the way down the aisle. Click. The groom makes his entrance. Click click. The flower girls toss beautiful petals down the aisle joining the ones already scattered. Click. The bride enters and is walked down the aisle. Click click. The groom almost cried. Click. The exchange vows. Click. Finally they kiss, everyone erupts in fanfare. Click click click.

The after party starts not long after. Your friend, freshly married and looking the happiest you've ever seen her, brings you a glass of champagne. “Thank you again for today. I owe both you and Hex my life." She hugs you. “I'm just happy I could help!” You smile. Before she can leave you catch her arm, pointing subtly at the girl Hex was talking to earlier. " Who's friend is that? Your's or your husband's?” She giggles. " I'm still not used to people referring to him as my husband.” She looks at the girl and immediately laughs. " That's my husband's younger sister! In turn; that's also Hex's honorary younger sibling." You must make a face of relief because she swats you. “Was someone a little jealous?He does dote on her quite a bit since he doesn't have any younger siblings." You frown. “No! A little… I don't know, okay..." You sigh and take a drink of your champagne. “Talk to him.... You both are extremely stubborn but extremely passionate. Plus…. Hex definitely keeps glancing at you when you aren't looking.” She says in a sing-song voice as she heads back out to join the party. You glance over and lock eyes with Hex, both of you left alone in the back part of the hall where the after party was being held.

He approaches after an uncomfortable amount of prolonged eye contact. "Hey.” He tosses you a lopsided smile. "Good work today.” He says patting your head softly. You want to relish in the praise but you have your own amendment to make. "I'm sorry… about being an ass earlier. I was jealous over something childish and got mad. " You sigh, hanging your head. Hex sighs. “I could tell.” “I'm really sorry. It's just first looks have always been special to me and the fact you got picked to do over me ignited something in me and I don't know. Then I saw you with the bride's sisters and I got even more up and-" Hex cuts off your sprailing. “Hey! Seriously, I forgive you. Don't worry about it. Okay?" He lifts your head with his hand, holding your chin in-between his fingers. “Besides….It's kinda cute. When you get all competitive and mad." He murmurs. You scrunch up your nose. "It's not cute. It's irritating for me and supposed to intimidate you.” He pulls you in a little closer with his other hand making contact with your lower back. " You're gonna have to work on that darling.” He quips. You stare into his eyes, almost get lost in them for a second. You then notice how close your faces are together, he smells good. You both lean in a little closer, eyes still locked. Hex glances at your lips and back at your eyes. You lean in even closer. You feel his breath tangle with yours. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation- "Sorry to interrupt. I wanted to thank you both for your work today.” The coordinator's voice rings out and the two of you immediately put distance between each other.

“I wanted to let you know you're both released from duty. You can enjoy some well earned champagne if you'd like. But perhaps you'd like some time to yourselfs?" She raises a knowing eyebrow that causes you to laugh awkwardly. “I think we're both gonna turn in for the night. It's been a long day." Hex smiles at the coordinator and goes to pack up his stuff leaving you alone with her. “I should um... probably do that too…” you sputter out. The corridentor smiles, shaking her head as you shuffle off to go pack your things as well.

You and Hex both do your own version of an Irish goodbye and get separated in the process. Things were awkward now in your mind at least, you almost kissed him! Worst of all he almost kissed you back!? The tension was undeniably now. You muse to yourself as you stroll along with your backpack of equipment on your back and both hands carrying a tripod case.

You swear Hex must've been a ninja in his past life. He somehow got behind you again without you being none the wiser. “You know..” you nearly jump ten feet in the air this time. " It's really not safe to be unaware of your surroundings regardless of you being in a public space.” He ruffles your hair and as you set down one of your tripod cases down to fix your now ruffled hair he picks it for you wordlessly. "You really don't have to do that.” You reach out to grab it but he pivots his body so you can't. " Please let me.” he says quietly. " Fine…" you mumble back softly.

You're almost at your hotel. The two of you chatted about all the editing to be done and the notes you'll have to compare. “Does this mean we have a temporary truce between us again?" He asks, lifting a questioning eyebrow. “I suppose it does." you smirk, nudging him. That little bit of contact sparks something in you, something much deeper. You felt it, the bolt of electricity, the undeniably feeling you've been having, it all culminated in a very clear thought at last. Desire… You wanted Hex to kiss you, you wanted him to dote on you, you wanted to get more praise from him. He coughs awkwardly as you stare blankly. “So are you turning in for the night? It has been a long day." You shrug. "Maybe… I'm not super tired yet so I'll probably end up editing for a few hours.” You admit. "....I know you prefer to have your creative space to yourself, but would you want someone to edit with…? I mean I'll probably do the same on my own anyway to be honest so… yeah…” He smiles softly. The pitch seems innocent in nature but deep down you feel those butterflies in your stomach. "Yeah? How about you give me my tripod back thief, I'll go up to my room and shower and change, all that junk and then I can stop by your room?” He smiles nods and hands you the tripod sealing in your ‘editing date’.

As you round the corner of the street then through the entrance of the hotel, you both pile into the elevator with your equipment. “I'll see you in like thirty minutes?" Hex asks before the doors open on your floor. “Yeah sounds good! What room number?" You ask. “512! See ya there!" He smirks as the doors close. You hum happily as you go back to your room. You stop. Holy shit. You have a non-conventional date with a guy you hated like a day ago. You throw your equipment down, shove your SD card in your laptop to upload files and sprint to the shower.

You shower fairly quickly despite needing to freshen everything… just in case… You throw on something cute but still comfortable and throw on some light makeup. You took a lot of shots today so your SD card only had a bit more to upload. In the meantime you maule over every scenario that could play out tonight. You maule over not going at all, protecting your peace not getting attached, because as much as you wanted this you know how this ends. However the butterflies in your stomach protested and once your photos were done you grabbed your laptop and you headed over to Hex's hotel room. Mind whirling…

Your heart thumps as you step back into the elevator. You press the number 5 on the wall and feel the elevator lurch to life following suit with your stomach. The elevator reaches the top and you follow the signs to 512. You knock on the door lightly. You hear some shuffling inside before he opens the door. He looked a lot more disshovled, hair still slightly wet from his own shower no doubt, black T-shirt on… gray sweatpants… “Perfect timing! My photos from my main camera just finished. Anyway, come in!" He ushers you inside. “I know this isn't my house technically… but can I get you anything to drink; water, tea, shitty hotel coffee?” You laugh. " A tea sounds great if you don't mind.” You sit on the couch and take out your laptop as you hear Hex shuffle about in the kitchen area preparing the tea.

You open up your laptop and scroll through the photos starting to delete the off shots and the ones that were obviously unsalvageable. Hex sets a cup of tea down on the coaster and sits on the couch with his own laptop and starts to do the same. “How many raw shots do you have currently?" He asks. You immediately sigh. “Around 1300…” He sighs, shaking his head. " I'm also in the thousands. I always forget about the aftermath." He groans. You glance over at his computer screen and see some of the photo previews in the folder. One of them looks suspiciously like you are locked in, focused on taking photos. You're about to point it out but Hex turns his laptop away.

"I guess we should get started." He sighs. “Yeah unfortunately. At least it won't be lonely editing these. I have you to bug me the whole time." You smirk and give a teasing squeezing his knee. You don't realize how intimate the action is until after it happens. His eyes lock on yours. You almost regret it for a moment because he hesites, his eyebrows not together. You blink. The next second Hex's lips crash into yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you practically melt into the kiss. Your lips mingle for a short while, then he pulls back slowly resting his forehead on yours. “You are the most insufferable person I've ever met. You're also gorgeous and smart and witty… and I've wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you.”

You're speechless for a second. Physically stunned. “Sorry I just-" Hex starts, but you kiss him again, just a quick peck to shut him up. “You're an enigma. I hope you know that. You're also insufferable but in a way that keeps me coming back for more… I dunno.” Hex smiles and tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. "Is this all because you thought I was handsome? Because I'm starting to get the feeling it might be.” He teases. You wack him lightly on the arm and he erupts in a fit of laughter. " You keep calling me out but you kissed me first, so dare I say you think I'm pretty-” "Of course I do, I thought I made it really obvious.” You pout. " You kept calling me rookie… is that what is obvious to you!? How was I supposed to know?" He laughs again. “Okay fine, what do you want me to call you.” You freeze. You have an opportunity to do several corny things here but you don't. "What do you want to call me?” You hurl back in his direction, you know where this is going but you need to know his boundaries now or die without knowing.

He sighs, setting his laptop on the table. “There's a lot of things I wanna call you." He starts. "Pretty, annoying, adorable, incredibly career driven… but most of all I think calling you darling would be really nice.” His hand snakes around your chin, anchoring towards him again. "What do you say… Darling?" He tests. “I… I really…" anyone could tell how flustered you are at this moment. But that sadistic part of Hex kind of liked watching you squirm and struggle to find your words. “I really like that. I think." You finally gasp out. A smirk takes over Hex's face as he grabs your laptop, setting it next to his on the table. He pats the couch beckoning you closer to him. “We'll edit in a bit." A lie, obviously, at this moment work is the last thing on your mind.

The second you scooch closer to him he scoops you up in his lap. You're a bit disoriented for a second but the second you realize the compromising position he put you in your brain fogs up. “Hi…” you whisper shyly. " Hi gorgeous.” He smiles before pulling you down to kiss him again. This kiss is different from the other two; it's deeper, needier. His tongue tangles with yours and you instinctively shift slightly in his lap, looping your arms around his neck. He continues to kiss you, eventually you feel his hands at your waist, toying with the fabric of your shirt. You part the kiss for a moment, glancing at him, giving him a nod. After all, consent is hot. A smirk plastered on his face he watches your expression as he runs his hands under the fabric of your shirt.You feel the heat rise from the tips of your toes all the way up to your face when his hands trail up your stomach to your chest. Your head falls on his shoulder to muffle the small noise that emanates from you as he softly cups your chest, squeezing gently as a test.

He tugs at your shirt and you take it off, top half exposed you feel a little self conscious and instinctively cover yourself. “Hey, it's okay. If you aren't comfortable we don't have too." Hex coos softly stroking your back. “Sorry it's…been awhile…” you mumble. He kisses your forehead. " Me too. We can go slow if that makes you more comfortable.” Why did he have to be so fucking understanding. "I can do slow.” You nod, almost as a gesture to assure yourself. You slowly unfurl your arms and bare yourself to him. Hex's hands land back on your chest slowly massaging your sensitive nipples. Your hands fists his shirt. “You're really responsive." He teases. " Shut up…” you flush. He places kisses along your neck slowly trailing down your clavicle, drifting towards your chest. Your grip on his shirt tightens as he slowly takes one of your nipples in his mouth, slowly toying with it. Your head falls back on his shoulder, you pepper soft kisses on his neck. Once he's satisfied with your nipples he releases them with a lewd pop.

He pulls back and takes off his own shirt. You can't help but stare for a second. He isn't ripped or anything, definitely has some well defined muscles. You cautiously move your hands feeling the soft skin of his lower abdomen. He lets out a low hum of approval. You shift again, you're still in his lap after all, you feel him hard underneath you. He looks at you. “Are you sure you wanna keep going?" He prods gently. “Please." You say, it comes out a lot more needier than you wanted it to. He chuckles darkly. “God I was hoping you still did."

With that he picks you up and carries you to the bed nearby, gently tossing you on it. “You definitely got a nicer bed than I did." You mumble. He leans in close to your ear. “Maybe you'll just have to sleep here tonight then." He playfully nips your ear, easing down your sweatpants. One your pants around your ankles, you do the rest and unceremoniously kick them off your legs. He goes for your panties next, kissing down your stomach. Your panties are tossed somewhere on the floor along with your sweatpants.

Hex takes a moment to stare down at you underneath him. You squirm under his gaze and a sly smile falls on his face. “You're so fuckin pretty." He whispers before parting your legs. “And really wet too apparently, all this is for me?" He teases. You open your mouth to reply something snarky but the words die in your throat and morph into a whine as he swipes his finger along your slit. With that firm confirmation you obviously (and embarrassingly) enjoyed that he continues to toy with your pussy. His fingers dances along your clit and you let out another guttural moan. “Need more." Your voice sounds foreign to you. He snickers, amused by your neediness. “Patients, what happened to slow?" “Fuck slow, your fingers feel really good." You pout. “Fine, you want more, I'll give you more." With that ominous statement he sticks two fingers in front of your mouth. " Suck.” He commands with a shit eating smirk plastered on his face. You obey obviously, slowly engulf his finger in your mouth sucking gently. You hear his voice hitch, this is doing something for him and as much as you want to tease him back your mouth is a little occupied.

Once he's satisfied with your work he removes your finger out of your mouth. Two fingers, now glistening with your spit, toy at your entrance. You squirm again, and Hex uses his other hand to hold your hips in place. Then gently he enters both of them into you at once, with your hips pinned all you can do is trash your head and pleasure. He slowly removed them and entered them again, setting a decent pace. He leans up to kiss you again. It's deep and sensual, you can practically taste the desire. His fingers hit that spot inside you and you mewel. “There, holy fuck right there." Hex takes the very obvious lead and continues to hit that spot. Your vision blurs and stars form behind your eyes, before you can get the words out you cum around his fingers.

Hex continues to help you ride out your orgasm; he slows his finger in and out of you, and once your eyes degloss he removes them, much to your disappointment. His eyes lock on to yours and he immediately inserts his cum covered fingers into his mouth. You shiver, not breaking eye contact he completely cleans his fingers. “Are you… still good to keep going darling?” He asks. You glance down at his pants, which now have an obvious tent from how hard he is. “Absolutely, I think it's your turn pretty boy." You tease and make grabby hands for his pants. He holds your wrist and pauses for a moment. “I don't think I can wait any longer…. If that's okay.” He admits sheepishly. "That's completely fine, but just know I have to get you back next time.” He begins to pull down his sweatpants with a raised eyebrow. " So there's a possibility of a next time huh?” You flush and turn your head. " Perhaps." He chuckles. “Hey I'll take it." You turn your head back towards him as he slides down his boxers. His cock springs free and… you saw the tent in his sweats, you registered it. But seeing his cock he's a lot bigger than you initially thought. Your mouth falls open and Hex laughs at you. “Do you like what you see? You can always take a picture if you want, since you are pretty good at that. " He teases. "If I weren't so turned on right now I'd slap you.” You joke and pull him down for another kiss, you feel his cock rub against your thigh and you feel the excitement swell in your stomach.

He pulls back and lines up with your entrance. " You ready, pretty girl?” You nod, biting your lip to brace yourself. He enters just the head of his dick in your entrance. He lets out a shaky breath continuing to slowly slide inside you. You grip the sheets, you knew he was gonna stretch you but you weren't expecting the sheering pain mixed with pleasure. Once he finally bottoms out inside you he moves his hands to your hips and rubs gently circles into the flesh there waiting for you to adjust. He leans down and peppers your faces with kisses cooing sweet nothings. After a bit of time you give an experimental buck of your hips, both of you moan in unison.

That ignites something in Hex, knowing you're adjusted he pulls almost all the way out of you and roughly snaps his hips back into you. You fist the best sheet underneath you to hang on to any shred of sanity you have left. He continues to rut in and out of you like a starved man. “Fuck you're so perfect, it's like your pussy was made for me." He whines, leaning his head on your shoulder and biting it. You are a mess, you don't know when tears started streaming down your face but they are and you can no longer form complete sentences, just broken ones with Hex's name thrown in. His pace quickens and that familiar feeling forms in your gut. “I'm close." You moan. “Me too, don't worry me too." He responded hastily. “Cum for me darling." He mumbles against your shoulder. After a particularly hard snap of his hips you do. The sheer euphoria that shoots through your body makes your head fuzzy. You tighten around Hex as you come, he thrusts become sloppy. “W.. where do you want it?" He frantically spits out. “Anywhere, I'm on the pill, don't worry." You respond on cloud nine. That was all it took and a moment later you feel his warm cum flood your pussy, he collapses on top of you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment basking in the afterglow of both of your orgasms. Eventually Hex boots back to life and slowly pulls out. You whine as he exits your very sensitive hole. “I'm gonna grab a wet washcloth and I'll be right back." He murmurs. You feel the warmth of his body on your leave as he goes to retrieve it. You don't move and continue to lay there, you hear Hex pad back over to the bed and then the warm washcloth hits you. He gently cleans you up and you thank him… you think, the words coming out of your mouth sound foreign to you. The bed dips and you hear the rustle of covers. You crack one eye open finally and you're met with Hex staring back at you. “Come here." He smiles, it's gooey and affectionate. You oblige using the rest of your strength to scoot back into his arms under the covers.

The two of you cuddle in silence for a while. It's peaceful. You're sleepy and the energy is zapped from you. “Thank you for letting me stay here tonight." You whisper. “You're warm, I'd be stupid to send you back to your own room." He jokes, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “We have to edit…” you groan, eyes shooting back open to the pair of laptops where this whole thing started. “You don't leave for another couple days, neither do I. It can wait, for now let's rest. I think we've earned it." So you do. You shut your eyes and snuggle into Hex's chest falling asleep almost instantly.

The next few days are great, Hex and you edit alternating from sleeping in his room and sleeping in your room, his bed is still better than yours. You learn more about him as a person. He's funny, smart, extremely witty, but still can be a pretentious jerk; though much less of one now. You also end up going to do some shooting around the area, just like you planned and Hex happily accompanies you taking some shots of his own.

The last night the two of you were together in Mexico, you finally asked the question. “So what happens when we go home?" You blurt out suddenly. Hex peers over at you from his laptop. “What do you mean?" You bit your lip anxiously. “I dunno… We've been spending a lot of time together and I like being around and… I guess this is me asking…what are we?” You want to crawl into a hole. You went into this knowing things would probably end here but after the last couple days, that feeling you had morphed into something far more dangerous, attachment. “What are we….” He repeats. " Well I guess that's something we both have to agree on.” He sets his laptop down and faces you. “What did you want us to be?" He asks. “At first when we met, I wanted nothing to do with you. Now that I know you and have spent some time with you…I guess I can say I've grown very fond of you.” You mumble. " I like you a lot, Hex.” He gets up walking over to you. " Listen, I echo that same sentiment. I thought you were some rookie who was just gonna get in my way. Now you're so much more than that and if you're open to it, I would love to continue exploring and expanding our relationship…. together.” He takes your hand and squeezes it gently. You enthusiastically nod. " I would like that a lot. Does that sorta make us a couple then?" You ask cautiously. “No idiot, I want nothing to do with you. Of course it makes us a couple." He rolls his eyes ruffling your hair.

You smile and he smiles back at you, with the sun sunsetting behind him. You can't help but think how lucky you are for hating to work with other people.

-Epilogue-

“3….2…..1….. you may turn and see each other now!” You turn around fist looks strange when you're the one doing them. Hex is dressed in a dark blue tux and looks as charming and strikingly handsome as he did the day you met him at your friend's wedding all those years ago. Tears well in his eyes as he gazes at you with such affection that makes your heart swell. “You're gorgeous, fuck you're so gorgeous." He runs over and hugs you, twirling you around. “Okay show off, I know you're doing this for the camera." You tease him.

Glancing at the poor wedding photographer who's had to put up with you and Hex micromanaging shots since your engagement photos. “I'm a lucky man, what can I say!" He shrugs. " I'm about to marry the love of my life in a few hours and the first man who got to see her in a wedding dress.” He boasts proudly. You laugh, because how couldn't you. Your soon to be husband is just as pretentious as the day you met him, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

»»————-　☾　————-««

#nijisanji en #nijisanji #hex haywire #hexgaywire #xsoleil x reader #xsoliel #xsoleil #hex haywire smut #hex haywire x you #hex haywire x reader #if you're reading this ily #this is so self indulgent #and honestly only made bc i witnessed a wedding while on vacation #i was gunna edit this and then went.... nah #so there are probably spelling and grammar errors #its almsot 10 thousand words give me a break #my writing #nijisanji x reader #nijisanjien x reader

28 notes · View notes

horologiiiumart · 9 months

Note

What's the lore of your weretoon au? Is there something that made the characters weretoons? How is Pizzaface/Pizzahead like?

i am so glad you asked

this is gonna need a read more because there’s a lot of lore (more than 3 ‘seasons’ worth!) in this au, so without further ado…

this au isn’t so much mine as it is a group effort of a lot of brilliant and creative people. i can’t take all of the credit!

@thegameartist03 @arcadequeerz @theragegur have all greatly contributed to this au. without them, this au wouldn’t be nearly a big and fleshed out as it is!

so this au begins with peppino being bitten by chattering teeth toy and becoming a weretoon. he doesn’t have a good time, certainly not when a yellow-suited weirdo begins pestering him and trying to be his rival, or when he starts being followed by two guys who make it their life to sit outside his pizzeria and watch him. he just wants to make pizza and pay his landlord, mr. stick, rent!

(it also doesn’t help that his rival pizzeria owner seems almost obsessed with him; the pizza mask he wears is just…odd)

so we follow peppino’s struggles as he gets used to being a weretoon that changes every friday night (just in time for saturday morning cartoons) and full moon. gustavo, his coworker, finds out about his predicament one night, and begins to help him with his new reality. together they deal with the noise, another weretoon, and get help with toon matters with noisette, a natural-born weretoon.

fakey, or fredo later on, comes into the picture one night on the cusp of peppino changing. peppino accidentally cuts himself, causing himself to bleed a little. then he turns, and cartoons aren’t supposed to bleed, so the blood…leaves. goes away. and peppino shrugs it off.

the blood has other plans, and forms into a loose copy of peppino. fakey is born, and is a full toon - he’ll always be a toon, no matter the time. he wants to, to peppino’s initial horror and dismay, be around peppino - peppino is his dad! be with dad! - but eventually peppino relents and lets fakey stick around, mostly keeping him in the apartment.

fakey gets bored of being kept in the apartment, so he creates a blanket fort to entertain himself. then the blanket fort changes - from perhaps toon physics or magic or whatever - becoming a huge labyrinth of blankets and pillows on the inside. on the outside, however, it still looks like a normal blanket fort, and peppino and gus are a little confused when fakey drags them over to look at it. what’s so special about it?

then fakey takes them inside, and pep and gus are tooned! it’s a temporary tooning, disappearing when they leave the fort, but it’s a surprise nonetheless - anything that goes into the fort gets tooned. time also moves slower in it, making a few hours in the fort equal a whole day outside of it, so if peppino misses the day rent is due, well, blame it on the fort.

mr. stick is tired of peppino being late with rent, so he keeps accosting the man for it. fakey sees this, and he doesn’t like it; who is this mean man talking to peppino like that? so, fakey takes action, and kidnaps mr. stick, throwing him into the blanket fort. peppino, oblivious to this, goes on with his day, happy that he doesn’t have to pay rent. he only starts to get concerned when he hasn’t seen mr. stick in a couple days, then a few weeks, then a few months. an investigation is launched, mr. stick’s family is deeply worried, and fakey doesn’t know that kidnapping is a crime.

mr. stick is having the worst time of his life in the fort, being chased around by fakey for being such a mean guy. he doesn’t know why he looks so weird, why he’s in this maze of blankets, or why he’s being chased by a copy of his tenant, but he is and he hates it. eventually, though, fakey starts wanting to play instead of chase, and the two form a tentative friendship.

(there’s a whole bunch of blanket fort lore and mr. stick’s family lore that i won’t get into here, but let me know if you wanna learn about it!)

anyways, returning to peppino. he’s slowly getting better at being a toon, but it appears that he’s starting to keep more and more toon attributes as a human. turns out the weretoon strain he was infected with was an artificial and experimental strain, and it’s slowly permatooning him. as he freaks out about that, he gets invited to cater for a very large event held by his rival, that pizza-mask guy. with how much money is being offered, peppino would be a fool to refuse. if only it wasn’t during a friday AND a full moon…

SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT

there will be specific moments relating to the greater story. if you wanna keep reading, go ahead, but if you just want a general overview keep to the above section.

anyways,

peppino takes the risk, but it turns it was a trap laid by pizzahead. pizzahead, wanting to toon with his ‘one true rival’, had laced the food with a refined version of the weretoon strain he created - that’s right, pizzahead was the one who had infected peppino with the chattering teeth. peppino is horrified, and can only watch in terror as the party-goers around him start turning (including the two men that always follow him, their red and yellow toon forms stark against the white table cloth of the food tables). pizzahead, however, doesn’t toon, much to his frustration, and sends the tooned party-goers after peppino. chaos ensues as pizzahead vows to get his chance to toon.

there are a lot more weretoons now, but peppino’s too distracted with his slowly encroaching permatoon status. that worry gets interrupted by pizzahead again, who is desperate to toon.

so desperate in fact, he uses an invention to take the toon out of every weretoon and toon in the city, and gives it to himself. peppino is back to normal, something he’s always wanted, but this…this isn’t good, and he can’t let this happen.

he and his friends confront pizzahead, who threatens to destroy him and the city, but he manages to save the day by trapping pizzahead with a song - something a toon can’t help but join in with. the gun is destroyed, releasing the trapped toon energy, but gustavo is badly hurt from the earlier fight with pizzahead. peppino, once again a toon, rushes to his aid, and kisses him.

toon logic ensues, and gustavo is fine! and he’s also a weretoon now, because weretoonism can spread through saliva along with biting. everything is back to normal in the city - weretoons and toons have their toon back, and pizzahead has been defeated (and sent into the blanket fort for punishment).

cue season 2, and peppino finds out he’s a permatoon! oh dear he is no longer able to become human again, and he’s not a big fan of that. gustavo is also slowly permatooning due to the fact that peppino was the one who infected him.

the s2 villain is a director using toons in his productions. he creates a contract that traps all the weretoons and toons in the city, forcing them to work for him. peppino is redesigned against his will into a villain, while noise is forced into a more cutesy hero role. fakey gets trapped too, joining his father as a villain, and it’s not fun for anyone.

pizzahead, who has been slowly redeeming himself, helps peppino, noise, and fakey take down the director through the power of law - they found a loophole in the contract! they destroy it and bite the director, turning him into a pathetic mouse permatoon with a film camera for a head. pizzahead manages to toon, and he’s overjoyed!

s3 is the least developed, and deals with general toon antics and plots. peppino and gustavo are comfortable with being toons, and get married. s3 mostly deals with the city being a very toony place, along with the effects of toons being more out in the open. the main villain is trying to make laws to put toons out of work and eliminate them. there’s a movie at the end of the season, but it’s not as developed either.

s4 is more tentative, a “what-did-we-miss” season that includes beach episodes and other cartoon plots of the like, fakey changing his name to fredo, and the fort coming to life.

so, that’s a good amount of the lore this au has. there is. a lot more but it’s more specific. if you want any more info, just ask! i’ll be more than happy to answer

#long post #weretoon au #i was a middle aged weretoon

84 notes · View notes

the-guilty-writer · 1 year

Text

We're All Mad Here

Request from @twwobsessed: Hi I love your writings sm🫶🏻 platonic love and care and comfort is amazing 🥰 Could I request something with Hotch as father figure to a bau reader where he provides a safe place for her to be vulnerable and realize it’s okay to lean on others around her when she’s struggling with her mental health?

Aaron Hotchner x platonic!BAU!reader

Summary: Everyone at the BAU has their days. Hotch lets you know it's okay not to be okay.

A/N: I am, once again, lacking in creative flow at the moment. Title and final line are Alice in Wonderland references because I'm hoping someone will catch onto all the weird little metaphors and things I put into my writing one day and appreciate them like I do

CW: nothing super heavy tbh other than pointing out that everyone who works for the BAU is truamatized, reader hasn't eaten dinner and opts for tea instead.

---

You were almost certain that it was Aaron Hotchner’s goal to put together the most unhinged, secretly mentally insane team in the bureau. So certain, in fact, that you would put money on it if someone asked.

At times thought it was the only reason why he hired you; your mandatory psychological evaluations showed someone extremely well-adjusted, or rather someone who knew what others wanted to hear. Your best guess was that he had seen straight through the bullshit on your file and smiled to himself… another misfit to add to his collection.

But that didn’t mean he was wrong about it. The team had the highest rate of solved cases in the country and was considered one of the most elite units in the FBI. “The best profilers, sometimes, are the unsubs themselves,” Rossi had said to you during your first month on the team. All you could do was nod in response and subtly look around at the people you were surrounded by.

If that statement was true, it sure as hell made a lot of sense why you were all so good at your jobs.

There were times when someone on the team’s demons grew a little stronger, or their ghosts got a little louder. You’d already seen it happen with Morgan and Prentiss. JJ did a bit better hiding hers, but sometimes she fiddled with her necklace a little too much. Reid would repeat the words “I’m fine” a few too many times. Garcia would smile with her mouth, but not her eyes. There were days when Hotch’s firm expression faltered. Even Rossi had his moments.

The first time you’d fallen, Morgan warned you it was coming; the initial adrenaline of working the job wearing off, causing exhaustion to take over. “It hits most people around month nine,” he’d said. It didn’t hit you until month sixteen.

You picked yourself back up and since then, you’d been okay- learned to take care of yourself, to breathe, to be still. But life didn’t always make time for stillness, and you could feel yourself falling into the hole again. The demons at the bottom of the pit got more and more demanding, multiplying without ever feeding them a meal.

Or maybe it was just your stomach grumbling. You hadn’t eaten since your lunch break and it was nearly ten at night. Besides yourself, the bullpen was empty. To your knowledge, everyone had gone home hours ago. You should have too, but the more paperwork you finished the more quiet your head would be; the less people would notice how hungry your demons were.

“(Y/L/N),” Hotch’s voice caught your attention. You didn’t know he was still here- his office light was off, the door closed for the night. Yet, he stood just inside the glass doors of the BAU, looking a bit too much like a film noir character in the dim lights.

“Hey Hotch,” you greeted him like this was a usual encounter.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, walking softly towards your desk.

“I could ask you the same question,” you smirked, trying to evade further questioning.

“I had to be on call with the head of the LA field office,” he said as he moved to sit on the edge of your desk. “You should have gone home hours ago.”

You shrugged. “I wanted to get some paperwork done.” The casualness of your tone and the way you sat back in your chair would have been enough to fool anyone else into thinking you were okay. Too bad you worked with a bunch of profilers.

“You know,” Hotch started. “The call I just got off of in LA was because they were trying to start a unit there to lighten our caseload.”

“I- I didn’t know that.” You wondered if the team would ever take cases on the west coast again, or if life would slow down from here on out.

Hotch sighed. “They’ve been trying for the last three years, but they couldn’t keep a consistent unit. Too many agents were coming in and burning out. They’re terminating the project.”

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“This job, it isn’t easy,” Hotch’s tone softened. “Every person on the team knows what it’s like to struggle. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and all of us are here to help.”

You looked down at your fidgeting hands in an effort to avoid Hotch’s gaze, but you could still feel him watching you. When you finally worked up the courage to look at him, your eyes were glassy with tears.

“I’ve been having a hard time recently,” you admitted, voice shuttering in an effort to contain tears. “Just feeling things a little more than usual.”

Hotch looked from you to his closed up office and back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You mimicked his action, glancing to the room. “How much time do you have?”

Hotch was about to reply when your stomach let out a long growl. You looked down, smiling sheepishly. Your boss chuckled a bit. “Maybe we should get you some food first?”

You sighed, knowing you had to put something in your body but not knowing if you'd be able to keep anything down with your anxiety. “I think I'll just have some tea.”

Hotch handed you the key to his office, a sign to go make yourself comfortable in the space while he prepared your drink. “It's always tea time.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x platonic!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader

204 notes · View notes

kabie-whump · 3 months

Text

CYOA Whump - Part 3

First | Previous

You chose: Start a conversation with her. Try to butter her up (then ask nicely).

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

You open your mouth to say something charming to the pirate, but all that comes out is a choked sort of rasping sound. Your mouth is just so dry. Not charming at all. It gets her attention though.

“You’re awake,” she notes, attaching her water skin to her belt again and approaching you. “Did ya enjoy your beauty sleep?”

She’s tall - taller than you by a whole head, maybe more. Her skin is dark, her head topped with short reddish-black curls.

You chew on your tongue in an effort to generate any saliva as she looms over you. “It was refreshing” you manage to say.

You’re lying. You’re tied up and hot and thirsty and hungry and definitely concussed; the definition of a miserable little rich boy.

“Yeah, you look it,” she replies disbelievingly.

She crowds in closer, taking your face in her large, weathered hand and tilting it up towards her.

“You are a funny lookin little fella aren’t ya?”

You scoff, know it’s true. Your father’s human and dragon blood and your mother’s air elemental blood have combined to make an absolute freak of a person. Horns and sharp teeth and scales that somehow ended up morphed until they looked like gemstones laid into your pale blue skin. No one has ever had the audacity to point it out to your face though.

“Thank you,” you say dryly.

“I weren’t complimenting ya.”

You realize that she might not be the brightest pirate in the bunch.

“I know. My name is Ventis.”

“Tinny.”

“Tinny?”

“On account of the tin.” She holds up the hand that hadn’t been grabbing your face and you realize that her flesh ends at her wrist and is capped off by a shiny metal can.

“I see. Very creative.”

“It’s good for beatin people.”

“I can imagine, yes.”

Tinny nods, satisfied, and starts to turn away. “I gotta go tell the captain you’re up and yappin.”

“Wait,” you say quickly. “Might I trouble you for a sip of water?”

Tinny pauses, considering you, then shrugs and removes her water skin from her belt. She opens it and holds the spout up to you lips, tipping it until the cool water touches your skin. You drink gratefully, swallowing it down and nearly drowning yourself until she pulls it away. Then she leaves you alone.

You hadn’t gotten much and a lot had run down your face, but still you feel so much better.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

CYOA whump taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @rainydaywhump @whumperofworlds @hauntedroseart @3-2-whump @fleur-a-whump @whumpsday @whumpisfun @whumper-whimsy @ghost-whump @fabled-whump @violets-whumperflies

#whump #whump community #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump ideas #whumpee #original character #oc #oc whump #cyoa whump #nonhuman whumpee #pirate whump #ventisposting #ventis

26 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

Was wondering if you could do a cult of the lamb Narinder x reader where, in the days after his indoctrination into the lamb's cult, Narinder is subject to several childish "pranks" from the other members (things like, throwing his belongings into the river, tipping over the outhouse while he's in it, etc) and one day, (the day this story takes place) the reader gets tired of it and stands up for him. Then, later that night, they find him sitting near a tree and try to cheer him up.

Narinder knew that he wasn't going to receive a warm welcome upon his indoctrination into Lamb's cult.

After all, he did capture all of their followers and threaten to kill them alongside his former vessel.

So when he became the victim of a series of childish pranks for the next several days, he let them have their little “revenge”. At first they were harmless, albeit annoying, but it really just showed their immaturity to the core. It was easy for him to shrug it off and continue on.

But then they started getting more creative, harassing him at nearly every waking moment. They took advantage especially whenever Lamb was away for days on a crusade or off playing knucklebones.

For instance, a few mischievous followers ransacked his shelter, throwing some of his belongings into the nearby stream. Others sneezed over his food or snuck a turd into a bowl of meat he picked up, leaving him disgusted and sick.

One time, he was in an outhouse and somebody from the outside locked it before tipping it over. He could hear their laughter as he panicked and nearly tore the door down trying to get out.

That day, he learned he didn’t deal with enclosed spaces too well.

They were getting braver..and crueler. They’re just outright tormenting him at this point, though he refused to break in front of them or even say anything about their pranks to Lamb.

He’s been through worse as a god. Surely he can handle whatever they decide to throw at him, right?

However, one afternoon, they went too far.

This prank in particular was done on other followers, but to him?

It was the most traumatic thing imaginable.

The usual group of pranksters ganged up on him, grabbing his arms without warning and dragging him over to the stocks. He hissed and struggled to break free, until the “leader” said something that shook him to the core.

“We had a secret meeting with our leader...and they said you’ve been very bad. So we’re locking you up alll night long.” They spoke with a blank expression, sounding serious despite the few followers behind them snickering, mouth covered.

As much as Narinder tried fighting back, he was eventually locked up, unable to move as the group began laughing at him. One tossed fertilizer near his feet so he’d breathe in the horrible stench, but inside he was on the verge of a breakdown as he closed his eyes.

Here he was again. A prisoner.

Absolutely helpless as he felt a growing ache in his neck from being hunched over for so long. This was the sort of pain he’s never experienced before as a god...and that all changed when that wretched Lamb came along.

Is this why they spared his life? Just so their followers can bully him to their leisure?

Why did he have to endure this?

Why couldn’t they just give him an honorable de-

"HEY! What are you all doing?!"

Suddenly a voice shouted out, silencing the group as everyone--Narinder included--looked to the source.

It was you, a longtime follower of the cult and faith enforcer, standing there with a scowl on your face.

You looked at them all in disappointment. "Pranks are supposed to be funny, but I don’t see him laughing now, do I?” Huffing, you pushed through them and freed Narinder from the restraints "Yes, I know he's done bad things..but are we any better for torturing him like this? Is this what our great leader would've wanted?!"

A few flinched at your anger. Usually you were one of the nicest people in the entire cult--the one who welcomed and helped everybody no matter what region they came from--so for you to be upset means they seriously screwed up.

"..he kinda deserves it, though..” A bunny quietly muttered, but you quickly shut them down.

“Speak ill of him again and you’ll be in the stocks instead. Got it?”

They jumped in fright, quickly nodding before the group finally dispersed and went back to their usual tasks.

You didn’t like being the “fun police”, but you knew there was a fine line between pranking and tormenting--and they crossed it numerous times. Lamb will definitely hear about this one when they returned.

In the mean time, you wanted to see if Narinder was okay after all of that. Though you looked around and didn’t see him anywhere, confusing you.

‘Maybe he just needs time alone...hope he’s okay. Poor guy..’

..............

After finishing your nightly prayers, you stood up and stretched with a yawn. You then looked upon the statue of stone, gold, and red ribbon, smiling at it. Even now it gleamed under the moonlight and crackling spiritual flames.

Everyone else went to bed, and Lamb had gone into the temple to meditate, so it was just you out here alone.

Or...so you thought, as you heard a quite sniffle nearby.

You looked to see a certain black cat sitting down against a tree. He was curled up with his head resting on his knees. Clearly, he was still upset over today's events, but until now he was hiding from you and everyone in the cult.

Well, now’s your chance to cheer him up in some way.

Frowning, you approached him and kneeled down. "Hey, Nari..I’m sorry about what happened earlier..."

As Narinder glanced up, you felt your heart twist in pain at the tears staining his fur, leaving dark trails. "I know they just..wanted to see me break. But I-I wish they hadn’t done that." He shuddered, hugging himself. "Tell me, Faith Enforcer...is this why Lamb brought me here? To be mocked and bullied forever?"

"...no."

He blinked at your words, surprised. But said nothing as you sat beside him. "They believe you deserve a second chance. I talked to them and they'll make sure that never happens again....unless you decide to dissent one day."

“I’ve dissented from the moment I set foot here.” Narinder grumbled, lightly sniffling. “You don’t think that I perhaps...deserve this after-?”

“Destroying your stuff and making you relive your imprisonment are cruel pranks. Those aren’t okay at all. Totally undeserved. But you know..you can always try to prank them back.” You pointed out with a knowing smile.

“..by how? Reminding them of their own mortality? By serving them a meal with a pinch of follower flesh?” He bore a sharp-toothed grin as he thought of so many possible revenge schemes. “I can still strike fear into all of their hearts if I wish...even yours, [y/n].”

Despite his somewhat threatening words, you were unfazed by them. You just chuckled, much to his disappointment. “Well if you want to, go for it. It could be delicious payback. I could even help if you wanna.”

Closing his mouth, Narinder thought over your offer.

He wasn’t sure why you were so kind to him, considering all he did and threatened to do..but regardless you clearly wanted to be his friend. And you stood up for him, too.

That meant more than you realized.

So he huffed, nodding in agreement.

“I suppose I could use some assistance..thanks.”

#the day i actually get a follower request to prank narinder is the day i cri /hj #clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl narinder #the one who waits x reader #narinder x reader #hurt/comfort

231 notes · View notes

faegoddessog · 10 months

Text

Fantasy Come True Ch 2/8

Chapter 2: Lines

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, Fingering, cunnilingus

Series Summary: Breaking into the acting world has been a life long dream. It's been tough, plus your relationship with you partner has some struggles, but who doesn't have struggles. A new guy shows up to your improv classes who seems strangely familiar. He seems rather interested in you and you feel unusually comfortable around him, like he projects calm and reassurance. Once you realize who he really is, and what he really likes... it's game on.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

A/N: This little gem is per request for the lovely and talented @purejasmine . It's been a collaborative project designed to meet her every Austin need as best I can. Here's to you darling! <clink> I hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed the creative process with parameters not wholly my own!!

Here is the Masterlist of this series.

Message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You wait all week for the text from Austin, by Friday you are a little strung out, nervous and telling yourself he is a busy man, just wait until tomorrow.

Saturday around noon, your phone dings from an unknown but not blocked number. Your heart skips a beat.

Hey, it’s Austin, will you be at class today?

Yes, ‘tis my plan!

Good, see you there.

The smile on your face could break glass. You save the number under ‘Jason’ just to be on the safe side. It’s not like you are doing anything wrong, really you are protecting his identity.

As you walk from your car in your favorite red Minnie Mouse shirt, jeans, and your trusty shoes. You hear a whistle and your name. You look around and there is an arm out of an SUV waving you over. As you walk over suspiciously, you see a familiar form with a black mask and hat in the front seat.

“Hey, jump in,” you hear Austin’s muffled voice.

You’d know that voice anywhere so you do so without hesitation. He rolls up the dark windows.

“Hey, what’s up. Everything ok?” you note that his hair is back to his normal dirty blonde.

“Oh yeah, I just got tired of the beard. Do you want to do something different?” “Wait, so you aren’t going to class?” you say.

“Nah, It’d be a circus if I show up like this. Actually, I have to work on lines and I was hoping you’d come run them with me.”

“Um… yes, unequivocally yes,” you can’t get the words out fast enough.

“Cool, is it ok if I drive you to my house, it’s just that we would get some privacy there?” he says.

“Sure!” you don’t even care if you have to uber back to your car, this is the stuff of dreams. Like literal dreams.

“Thanks for texting, I appreciate the trust, it’s gotta be hard to meet people and trust them,” you comment to him.

“Yeah, it didn’t used to be, but now,” he trails off with a shrug, “the dirty, lonely side of fame. But, I don't know, there is just something about you. My, erm, gut… instinct just kicked in at dinner last week.”

“It was a good time for sure, did you eat your leftovers?” you ask, trying to keep your conversation light to hide your excitement.

“Oh my yes, that was the most fun meal I’ve ever had with anyone. We should do it again sometime.” You hear the smile in his voice as he drives.

About 20 min later, you are pulling up to a gated driveway with a tall wall. Makes sense, considering how freakin’ famous he is now. He seems to relax as he pulls into the garage and closes the door.

“Welcome to my sanctuary,” he says.

“Thanks Mr. Wayne” you jest with a sly smile,

Austin laughs as he opens the door and peels off his mask leaving it hanging on the gear shift. He gets out of the SUV, he walks around the back of the car in long strides as you take deep breaths trying to remain calm in light of BEING INVITED INTO AUSTIN’S FUCKING HOUSE. You go to reach for the door and it opens before you touch it.

Your breath catches in your throat. There he is with a huge smile on his face, in all his shorn glory. Your Austin. The one that makes you weak in the knees. His hand is out to help you out of the car. It didn’t seem real before, recognizing him, even having dinner last week, because he didn’t LOOK like the Austin you knew. But this… wow. His hand is warm and soft in yours as you grasp it and step out.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around!” he doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you to the door. He even switches hands to usher you inside, his other hand falling to the small of your back. Both of his hands on you? Oh the shooting tingles to your core, you almost stumble over the threshold.

It’s actually a modest home by celebrity standards. He shows you around, but it’s fairly basic, for LA anyway. Big kitchen and dining room with a coffered ceiling. His office is a library, go figure, with a comfy leather reading chair near the window and his black leather ‘68 comeback costume on a mannequin in the corner. A framed sun decal from one of the white jumpsuits hanging on the opposite wall. Other little treasures from his career sit amongst books. Books that actually look read, not just for show. The living room boasts a couple old movie posters with a huge TV, and super comfy couches with a big ottoman. Out back there is a pool and a pool house, the yard isn’t big but has lots of privacy. It’s not really set up for entertaining, which is kind of perfect for a talented, famous but shy introvert, at least subconsciously. He says there are three ensuite bedrooms upstairs, but doesn't show you.

He offers you a drink, and you choose sparkling water. He smiles at your choice, like he knew that was what you were going to pick.

“Do you need me to sign anything, NDA wise?” you ask, trying to be on the up and up.

“Nah, I trust you,” he smiles. Your heart warms.

You run the first scene with him. At first its a bit unnerving, I mean you are playing opposite Austin fucking Butler! But he is so warm and kind and accommodating it’s easy to relax and let your professionalism kick in. The scene is just two people talking about their pasts. You do it a few times in a few different ways: funny, serious, drunk, etc. You debrief in between. He gives you his full attention and seems to really like the insights you have. Then he turns to a scene later in the script.

“I’d really like to do this one, if you are comfortable with it, if not, that’s ok.”

You read over it and it has a kiss in the last half of the scene. Inside you are like, ’oh hell yeah!’ Outside you are so cool “Sure,” you shrug.

“So just to be clear, touch is ok, the kiss is ok?” he asks, ever the gentleman.

“Yeah, for sure,” you say coolly, as if it’s not the first time you’ve done a scene like this.

The first run through your heart is beating a mile a minute, which is good because the character is supposed to be nervous. At first he just gives you an old fashioned screen kiss. Lips touching lightly, still it sends tiny shivers up your spine. The second time through, it feels more like a natural kiss, still just lips, still exhilarating. Thank god you have the script in your hand as something to focus on. The third run through, it’s like he turns up his charm and magnetism. His hand is soft and warm on your jaw, pulling you toward him, his tongue barely darts out to touch your lips. An involuntary moan escapes you. Your fingertips graze his torso as you kiss him back. He pulls back, looking into your eyes. The pause is just a fraction too long, both of you breathing a little heavier, both of you a little lost. Then he glances at the script in your hand, taking a breath.

Oh shit, that’s right you are running lines! Yup, head empty, no thoughts. Well, there ARE thoughts, just completely unprofessional ones. You take a breath and finish the scene with him. Professional, right, you are a professional, you tell the slow burn in your groin.

“You ok to do it again?” he asks a little breathless, “I really think I’m starting to get it.”

You nod. You’ll kiss him as many times as he is willing. This time, you are ready for the intensity of the kiss. Your mouths press together, lips parted. The tip of his tongue making tentative explorations against your lips, against your tongue. You lean into it with everything you have. Every fantasy of this man that has ever taken up rent-free residence in your mind is now focused on the minimal space between your bodies and the non-space between your crushing lips. His hand is on the back of your head, the other wraps around your waist and pulls you against his body. Your arm is wrapped around his neck, fingers threaded through his soft, luscious hair at the nape of his neck. The pretense of the script is completely forgotten on both sides as pages flutter to the floor. Your fingers looped in his belt loop pull his hips closer to yours. You feel his bulge pressing through his jeans. You trade soft, throaty moans back and forth. He pulls back slowly.

“What doesn’t he do for you?” his voice is low, his eyes searching your own.

You look confused, that’s not the next line, is it? Then it dawns on you, what Austin is actually asking about.

“You really want to know?” you are still in his embrace, he makes no move to let you go.

“I do,” he nods.

“Well, he um,“ you look down at his throat taking a second to gather yourself. You decide that if you are gonna say it, you won’t be bashful. You take a big breath and look Austin in the eye. “He can’t be bothered to make me orgasm, he says it’s too much work and takes too long.”

Austin’s eyes widen in disbelief, then his brow furrows in confusion.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” his tone indignant, “that’s my favorite thing about sex! Has he ever made you orgasm?”

“I mean, a few times, that’s how he knows it’s a chore and one that he refuses to do,” you say matter of factly.

“Hold up, making a woman cum is not a chore, it’s a fucking privledge,” Austin is nearly outraged on your behalf, “so he uses you, then what?! “

You’ve never considered feeling used, it’s just how things had worked out.

“Austin, he doesn't use me, I like the sex and I am fine taking care of myself after,” your hand is on his chest, trying to sooth him, trying to stay calm yourself, feeling the round curve of his pec. You can feel his heart beating fast in his chest. He is shaking his head.

“No, sweetheart, no, that’s… that’s…. just wrong. I mean, if… if…” he hesitates, looking up at the ceiling. Then he levels his gaze at you, piercing you with his pupil-dilated blue eyes, “if you were mine,” his hands grip your shoulders, “I’d not let you leave the bedroom until you begged me to stop making you cum. I’d give you as many orgasms as was in my power to give.”

When he says these words, your mind goes entirely numb. ‘If you were mine’? ‘Begged me to stop’? Oh holy fuck. You have no retort for these statements, in fact if you say nothing then you can live in this moment forever. You actually feel your pussy engorge, feel your juices leaking past your labia and into the cotton of your panties. You wished you had worn your new pretty panties, because if Austin is going to talk like this to you, chances are he is going to be seeing them. It’s all you can do to stay on your feet as you pull him down to kiss you. This time, your tongue isn’t afraid to dance against his.

Suddenly your back is against the wall, his body is crushed against yours. Holy crap his bulge is huge. Austin’s hands are playing at the hem of your t-shirt. You get the feeling that Minnie is gonna see some things she’s never seen before. You feel his warm hands on the skin of your belly.

“I’m sorry,” he leans back a little, taking deep breaths, ”I didn't ask and am definitely overstepping boundaries and I don’t want to take advantage… but… you just, from the moment I met you in class, you just… do something to me.”

“Oh no, don’t you dare be sorry Austin,” your fists tighten into his shirt, pulling him back, “ and don’t you dare stop, for you I don’t have boundaries. If you want to be my Pleasure Dom, I’m all in.”

“Pleasure Dom? I’m…I’m not into much BDSM stuff sweetheart,” he says, unsure.

“It’s not BDSM, not exactly. It’s when you force orgasm after orgasm, overstimulate, even when they beg you to stop. Unless they say the safe word… which… ok is kinda similar to BDSM,” giddy that you finally get to explain to someone other than your tumblr bestie.

“Oh, I see, so instead of pain, it’s pleasure. Oh yes… I can do that,” he gets a little smile on his lips just before he kisses you again, then trails down to your neck licking and sucking.

Your hand snakes up to the back of his head, his down to the round curve of your ass, groaning.

“May I?” he remembers to ask as he grips the hem of your shirt.

What. The Fuck. Is happening. You just nod in a sort of haze. He strips off your shirt in one motion, your captured breasts bouncing a little as he does. He looks at your voluptuous form, and breathes out a moaning, appreciative ‘oh’. His hands trace your curves, then cup your large breasts. His head bows to your chest, almost in reverence.

“Fuck, you are beautiful,” his lips murmur agasint the rounded globes that peek out the top of your bra. “God, I love curves on a woman.”

“Really?” you say without thinking.

“Oh hell yeah,” he looks up at you with a sly smile, “I’m a sucker for a round booty and big boobs. Fuck I even like a little roundness here.” His fingers glide from your tits down to your stomach.

You feel a little self conscious from years of societal brainwashing, but it is obvious that he actually is turned on by your body.

“I know, bullshit societal norms dictate that I should be attracted to barely legal rail thin high fashion models,” he shrugs. “I’ve had them, they just don’t…fit me. They are boring and they don’t… do much. Like, they think just getting in their pants is a reward, so why try to be into it. The first curvy girl I had was so much fun, down to earth, and into the sex for fun. I’ve only had the privilege of a couple in the last few years, but they seemed to actually enjoy both giving and receiving. It turned me on so much. And I like someone that I don’t feel like I’m going to snap in half when I…” he trails off leaving the sentence unfinished. “And I want to…” he buries his face in your cleavage, kissing and nibbling your delicate skin. Lord, the way his tongue is rolling over just your skin is driving you mad.

“Want to what, Austin?” you ask.

He stands up tall and moves his hands to your bare shoulders.

“To fuck you, make you cum and cum and cum.” he states simply. “ I know, you have someone else, but you deserve… better. Will you let me? Can I, please?” he is practically pleading.

Austin Fucking Butler is asking you, nay begging you, to let him pleasure you. How the fuck did you fall into this fantasy world? And can you please, please never leave.

“Austin, hunny, ” you put your hands to his face, “sweet man, I now have and have always had only one person as my ‘hall pass’ and it’s you. My safe word is sushi.” You rise on your tiptoes and kiss him lightly on the lips

“Sushi,” he repeats, “So.. yes?”

“Yes please,” you breathe.

He looks down shyly, huffing out a breath, then back at you, nodding with a little smirk. The dimple above the left corner of his mouth peeks into view.

Oh holy hell, that look directed at you spawns a whole new flood into your underthings.

He leads you to the oversized sectional in the living room. The ottoman is pushed against the couch, making it into a pseudo bed.

“We uh, might want a towel or something here” you say, you know your moisture situation is just going to get more intense. He smiles and cocks a curious eyebrow and glances at your crotch.

“Sweetheart, are you saying it might get… messy?” He grabs a generic blanket from the back of the couch and spreads it over the fabric of the ottoman.

“Austin, it already is,” you return his look.

“Ooo” he presses himself against you, looking down into your face. “I love a wet girl,” he reaches around behind you, “and I can’t wait to taste you.”

He unsnaps and pulls your bra off. Fuck it feels amazing to let the girls breathe, you are rarely without a bra. He peels off his shirt then pulls you closer by your hands and places them on his sides, encouraging you to touch him.

Once you make contact, you decide to take your sweet time. Yes you want this, but in case this is the only time you get Austin, you are going to check every box you can.

You run your hands on the soft skin of his abdomen and chest, outlining his muscles and finding tiny freckles here and there. Some you had seen in pictures, some were new discoveries. You memorize their location and connect them with your fingertips, trying not to tickle. You get to the one next to his belly button and the little trail of hair that disappears into his jeans just about drives you crazy. You are biting your lip. You blow out a shuddering breath, and walk around him to the right, dragging your fingers above the waistline of his jeans and up along his erectors and over his shoulders. Austin is a fucking temple to the divine and praise be! you are about to worship harder than you ever have before.

He stands there, letting you explore, blowing out a shuddering breath when you roam over his stomach and down to his waistband. As you come around his left side, his freckles lead you up to his throat and onto his left cheek.

“This is how I knew it was you, Mr. Butler, by the way,” you say. marking each speck of melanin with your eyes.

“What is,” he says, pulling you close into his embrace.

“Your constellations. Your bushy beard distracted me from them until I was up close to you,” you lean up to him, cupping his cheek. “I love your constellations, Austin,” you murmur against his lips.

Then his mouth is on yours with a big inbreath, his hands pulling you tight to him. Your breasts pressed against his naked chest.

“No one has called them that before… I like that. Constellations,” he smiles at you.

He sits down on the couch and pulls you to straddle him, your sandals slip off your feet to the floor. His hands are on your breasts, gently massaging and holding them. He slips a nipple into his mouth, gently sucking.

“Oh gaw,” your words melt in your throat. You run your fingers in his hair as his tongue flickers. A nerve string twanging from your nipples straight to your pussy.

He switches to the other breast making your breath get heavier.

When he pulls off, you capture his mouth in yours, kissing him hard, your hips unable to stop pulsing against his legs.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to treat you like a princess,” he says looking up at you as he breaks the kiss.

“I’m all yours,” you breathe out.

“Mine, eh? Hmmm, my Princess,” one side of his mouth curves up, his little dimple is all for you.

Your reaction to this little nickname is purely visceral, heat floods your core.

Then you are suddenly flipped onto your back on the ottoman and he is pressed between your legs with a growl. His mouth is needy on yours, tongues flashing against one another. The two layers of jeans do little to stop you feeling how hard he is as he grinds on you. Christ, he is rock solid. He kisses down your neck.

“I have one requirement, sweetheart,” he says against the curve of your ear.

“What’s that?” you ask, eyes closed and head back.

“You can’t be shy about telling me what to do, if you need something different. I don’t know what you like, so you might have to direct me. Can you do that Princess?”

“Uh huh,” you nod.

“Promise Princess?” he says with a serious look, running his hands over your stomach and toying with the buckle of your belt. If he had glasses on, he would be peering over them.

“Yes Austin, I promise,” you say in all seriousness, “ I need my clit to be wet before you play with it and I um… am perfectly healthy, no STI’s.

He nods as he undoes the buckle and pulls down your zipper.

“Oh good, me too, just had a work up done.” You lift your hips and help him wiggle off your jeans. You are eternally grateful for the shower you took just before you left home and the trim up you did of your muff, all nice and short.

He kneels in front of you and giggles a little.

“What?” you ask, trying not to sound defensive and grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your head.

“Well, I see that Princess is an appropriate moniker, what with the crowns on your panties,” he runs his thumb lightly over the graphic. He lifts his head to watch your reaction as he lets his single digit slide lightly along the wet spot on the fabric.

His eyes narrow in lust as you exhale a light, shaky moan.

“Oh Princess,” he blows out a breath, “Ok,” he puts his hands up in the air, a look of barely contained control on his face. “You are still good with this, yes? Cuz this is where I need to stop if not.”

“Oh no, don’t stop Austin, please” you can’t get the words out fast enough, frowning just a bit, “I want it, I need it, and only from you. Please.”

“Alright, alright sweetheart, I just wanted to be sure,” his hands float back to your thighs. “I need to take off my jeans. I need some more, uh … real estate. But I’m not gonna fuck you, not yet anyway.”

“Ok,” you nod.

He stands up, unbuttoning his fly and pulling the front of his jeans out and down over the bulge in his boxer briefs. He moans out a sigh of relief. You can see the outline of his hard cock just before he bends over to pull his jeans off.

“Oh my god” you whisper, rocking your hips just a little. If he is as big as it seems, your tight little pussy is in for a jolt, WHEN he fucks you… there is no ‘if’ at this point in your mind.

“Mmm, sweetheart, you look like you need me?” he asks, getting down on his knees again.

“Yes please, Austin,” your hands are reaching for him, wanting to touch him.

“Let’s get down to uh… brass tacks shall we,” he gives you an evil little smile. He grabs your hips and yanks you towards him. Damn those muscles aren’t just for show. You giggle a little.

He presses his face to your covered mons, blowing hot breath and planting a kiss. Then pulls your panties away from your skin by the waistband. He continues to remove them and they are so wet, they stick to your labia.

“Oh hoh hoh” he moans in appreciation as he peels them down and off. “Open those legs for me Princess,” he says as he gently encourages you with his hand, “show me how wet you are.”

He runs a finger along your labia, pulling away a string of moisture.

“Is all this wetness for me darling?” he asks.

“All for you, Austin,” you look him right in the eyes, trying to convey just how much that statement is true.

He puts his wet finger in his mouth as you watch, his eyes close as he sucks it off. You wonder where all the oxygen in the room went.

“Mmmm, you taste so good,” he breathes out. Fuck, he is sexy.

His thumbs start petting your wet labia, gradually pulling them apart with each stroke until he has exposed your pink little slit.

“Oh this is a gorgeous pussy, Princess,” he settles down on his knees and leans in.

He plants a soft kiss just above your clit, you whimper just a bit.

He runs his tongue along your inner labia, groaning at the taste, barely grazing your clit with the tip of his tongue.

You whimper, fist to your mouth.

He looks at you over your mound, lapping gently with a wide tongue, then narrowing to his tip and going to one side, then the other of your clit. His blue eyes are dark again, with lust now instead of outrage.

Then his eyes close and he nuzzles side to side, pushing his tongue deeper, laving the front body of his tongue along your inner labia. His nose pushes gently against your clit. He breathes in deep through his nose, then moans out lusty, throaty laughs of pleasure into your pussy. It is clear that he is loving this.

You are tempted to lean back and close your eyes, however there is no way you are going to miss this. The sight of Austin buried between your legs is the stuff of your dreams. You almost feel out of your body.

He licks and tongues your pussy, slurping up your juices, growling in pleasure. He pulls back, face wet from the end of his nose to his chin. He is breathing a little heavy and grinning from ear to ear, licking his lips.

“Your pussy is so wet for me Princess, damn. Thank you, I fucking love this,” his eyes sparkle.

“Come kiss me with that messy mouth,” you reach out, beckoning him forward with your fingertips.

He crawls up your body and is instantly and deeply kissing you. Your tongue is lapping at his, running over his wet lips, tasting yourself. His cock is pressed into your dripping vulva separated only by the fabric of his boxer briefs. Your hips rock against him, hands against his low back holding him to your body. His hips pulse against you, pushing his cloth shrouded length deep against your slit.

“Oh fuck,” he breaths agasint your lips.

He pulls away, underwear soaked in your juices.

“I gotta,“ he blows out a big breath trying to control himself. “I’m getting ahead of myself. We are not done down here yet,” and he settles himself down between your legs again.

Once again he buries his face in your snatch.

“Austin, more clit please,” you say, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

“Oh that’s a good girl, telling me what you need,” he says against your lips, looking you in the eye.

His praise alone makes you bite your lip and pull your brows together.

He cocks his head a little, ever observant, “You like being a good girl don’t you.”

“I like being YOUR good girl, your Princess,” you say matter of factly.

“MMM, mine. Fuck baby, you got it,” his mouth closes over your clit, sucking long and slow and pulling off like a kiss. He dives back again, tongue flicking your clit lightly as he sucks and pulls gently. The wet sounds of kissing that don't involve your own mouth plus his magnificent mouth on your clit; these are churning up heretofore untapped sensations from your pelvic core.

You are crunched toward him, your mouth is hanging open, barely breathing. You didn’t know it could feel like... like this.

“Oh god Austin…more please!” you moan, your fist momentarily gripping his hair tight.

He chuckles low against your pussy, “My good girl.”

You clench.

Then he dives in for more. He licks, he sucks, he flicks. Slurp, slurp, smack. So much longer than you've ever had before. You can’t help but close your eyes to focus on the magic of his tongue. Heat building in your vagina, clit starting to throb from his attentions.

Then you feel a long finger petting your entrance. You look down and he is looking at you, watching your reaction to his fingering while flicking the apex of his tongue on your clit.

Your eyes go wide and you just nod at him.

He pushes his long finger slowly inside you. You let out a long low moan.

“Oh my god, Princess, you are so tight,” his voice is almost reverential. You just nod, this is not news to you.

His finger slides in and out of you, testing the waters, so to speak. He finger fucks you like this for a bit. He licks his thumb on his other hand and gently plays with your clit. His eyes flit from watching your reaction to his finger sliding in and out of you and back. Your hips begin to rock back and forth as he finger fucks you.

“God you are amazing, I’m gonna give you two fingers now sweetheart, ok?”

“Yes please,” you breathe out.

He slowly slides both digits into you. “Fuck, so tight,” he says under his breath, “are you okay Princess?”

“Yes, keep doing that, please!” you moan out.

“Oh my beautiful Princess, I have no intention of stopping, you take your time. I’m gonna just enjoy the fuck out of this.” He kisses the inside of your leg. Then you feel that beautiful pressure inside as he curls his fingers just enough to touch that spongy tissue on your vaginal wall.

“Oh wow yes Austin, that right there!” you moan.

He continues to pull your clit into his mouth, to flick it with his tongue, eating you out like you are his only nourishment. Soft pleasurable moans dislodge from his throat among the soft wet sounds of his suction. All the while he is sliding and curling, sliding and curling his fingers. His sounds are ramping you up just as much as his actions. Your moans are getting louder.

He keeps up this steady rhythm for you don’t know how long. You feel that bubbling creek start to rush up against the wall that holds your orgasm. Each dip into you, each wave of his digits, each long suctioned kiss of your clit, each flicker of his tongue: it all eats away at the crack in the dam.

“You are so good at this.” you moan, hips are rocking against his face. Your vocalizations are getting more intense, palm pressed to your mouth. Still he tongues you tirelessly. The crack in the dam suddenly splinters, threatening to break. Moisture surges from you and he moans deep, he can tell you are close by the waves of clenching you are doing on his fingers. He is thinking about how it will feel when he plunges his throbbing cock into you. He laps and sucks, never letting up.

You freeze, not breathing, pinpoint focused on the sensation behind your clit.

Then the dam bursts.

“Ungh, ungh ungh,” little rhythmic moans fall from your open mouth. Your hands fly to his head. Little jerks rock your pelvis and neck in time with your moans.

Holy fuck it feels so good.

You let out a loud, long moan which transcends into little giggles.

He is smiling against your pussy, knowing he made you cum.

Pulling away, messy faced, eyes so intense he practically launches himself on top of you, desperate to kiss you. His sloppy mouth is delicious against your own.

“Oh Princess, that was so hot.” his voice is deep with desire, hips pulsing a rhythm of their own against your leg.

“I'm sorry if that took a while,’ you say, breathlessly.

“Oh no darling, don’t you dare be sorry. I loved every second of it,” he says, smiling down at you like some devilish angel. “You know, it takes the average man 5 minutes to cum and the average woman 20.”

“You are not the average man Austin,” you can’t help but smile and giggle.

A sultry laugh rolls low from his chest, “No, my Princess, no I am not.”

#austin butler #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #@slowsweetlove #@purejasmine #@richardslady121

23 notes · View notes

invisibleraven · 3 months

Note

Imagine your OTP being next door neighbours that don’t know each other. But after a particular long night out Person A can’t unzip their dress (or can’t get the knot out of their horribly tied tie; get creative!) and they’re home alone. After struggling for a long time, they have to accept that they need help. And that’s what brings them to Person B’s door in the middle of the night.

Sweet tarts (this prompt would also be such an interesting canon-adjacent rulie lol)

Everyone expected a lot out of Carrie Wilson. She had to be perfect in every aspect of her life; body, face, voice, hair, dance moves, the list went on. They also expected her to live some lavish pop star lifestyle complete with limos, lush houses, and a multitude of servants.

She bet none of them would ever believe she drove herself in her beat up old sedan (painted her signature pink, of course) and lived in a normal apartment on the dodgier end of LA.

Carrie had grown up in the lap of luxury, so she knew better than most that money didn't buy you happiness. It didn't make your mother want to be in your life or your dad prioritize his work over you. It didn't erase loneliness or buy you genuine friends and relationships.

So Carrie decided to live a simple life, one where she relied on herself, and what she earned from Dirty Candi gigs to live on-not her dad's millions or name. Sure, it would have been nice to have someone to share it with, but for now she was fine alone.

Well that's what she thought until one night when she needed a hand. She had tossed off her heels as soon as she was in the lobby of her building, walking barefoot to the elevator with a sigh. Her wig was already in her bag, and her real hair released from the severe bun she'd had it in under the wig cap.

"Ah, sweet relief," she said as she shook out her honeyed tresses.

She didn't bother turning on the lights to her apartment-the moonlight let her see well enough to drop the shoes, her keys into the bowl, purse on the couch. A sprinkle of food into the fishbowl where Wanda was swimming around playfully while Cosmo was lounging on the bottom, blowing bubbles.

The only thing left to do was get out of this dress. It was a work of art, all ruffles, sequins, and daring slits. Flynn had really outdone herself, and Carrie loved it, but she also wanted it off now.

Unfortunately, it was also done up with the world's smallest and hardest to reach zipper. No matter how Carrie turned and strained, she couldn't clasp the tab.

Fuck, what did she do now?

She knew if she called Flynn, Julie, or any of the Candis they would come help. But they also lived a ways a way, and she didn't really want to wait (or admit to them she needed help). So who did she ask?

Suddenly she heard a door down the hall open and close and Carrie wondered if the cute guy down the hall was up. She had seen him in passing a few times, getting groceries, rushing off to work. He had given her a crooked grin or a wink with his spring green eyes every time, but they hadn't said more than a few hellos to one another. She didn't even know his name.

But any port in a storm right?

She grabbed her keys (the ones with the tiny can of mace that Kayla insisted she needed) and went out to the hall, stopping at the door, straining to see if she heard any movement.

There was the sound of music-a band she didn't recognize but liked the sound of-so she knocked. Loudly.

"Hold on!" a voice called and then the door opened-with a wet nose poking out, then her neighbour above it. "Hi, sorry, Dolly likes to meet new people."

Carrie snickered, crouching down to rub the pooch's face. "Well hello Dolly. Nice to meet you."

The dog let out a happy little bork and sat, panting at her. Her owner looked impressed and grinned at her. "Well you've got a fan for life."

Carrie shrugged. "All she wanted was a little attention."

"I meant me," he said with a blush, then coughed. "Anyways, what can I do for you? Mail mix up? Locked out?"

"This is going to sound really bad, but can you undo my dress for me?" Carrie asked. "I can not reach the zipper, and it's too nice to cut me out of."

The guy's jaw might as well have been on the floor as he processed her request. "M-me? Why?"

"I have no one else," Carrie admitted. "I literally just need the zipper lowered, nothing else. I'll owe you a coffee or I can walk Dolly here if you ever need me to."

The guy grinned at that. "Well I don't trust just anyone with my dog. How about we do names first and then I can be your dashing hero?"

Carrie giggled at that despite herself. He was cute, she was tired, and honestly she liked that he tried to be a gentleman. "Sorry, long night. I'm Carrie."

"Reggie," he replied. "And you've already met Dolly here."

"Pleasure," she said, then turned to show him the back of her dress. "Can I please have some assistance?"

"Sure thing." Reggie stepped out a little further, Dolly keeping the door open for him, which earned her a head ruffle and a 'good girl' as he let his eyes travel; over the expanse of Carrie's back. Finally he spied the zipper, and gently grasped the tab, giving it a firm yank.

Carrie felt like she could breathe again as the zipper rasped open, feeling the cool rush of air on her back. Reggie stopped it as he reached the middle of her back.

"You got it from here?" he asked. "Cause while I wouldn't mind doing the rest, I figure you might want some privacy for that part."

Carrie turned her face and gave him a eye roll but a genuine smile. "I'm god, but thanks so much for the aid. You're my hero."

He gave a mocking bow, and Carrie delighted in the faint blush that painted his cheeks as she clutched the front of her dress to herself. "How about tomorrow we meet up for that coffee? Say around ten? Pastry will be my treat."

"I'd like that," Carrie admitted. "Thanks again for the help."

"Always here for a damsel in distress... or a stuck dress," Reggie joked, earning a snort from Carrie that made him beam. "See you tomorrow?"

"Can't wait," Carrie replied. "Night Dolly. Until tomorrow my dashing knight."

Reggie grinned and went back inside his place while Carrie shut the door to hers, taking one last glimpse of him before shutting the world out. Giddy about the prospect of tomorrow.

And she bet no one on Earth would ever expect Reggie to be the kind of guy she would like, but she lived to defy expectations-and she couldn't wait to see how Reggie would defy all of hers.

#filled prompts #ficlet #jatp sweet tarts #julie and the phantoms

9 notes · View notes

theangstyboiblog · 2 years

Text

What Now? Part 2 Stephen Strange x Sorcerer Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Something that had barely begun was torn from your grasp five years ago. Each day since has been dark and filled with heartache. When Thanos is defeated and the world returns to some form of ‘normal’, you struggle to find just where you stand in relation to one Dr. Stephen Strange.

Table of Content: Part 1 here

Chapter 2: The girl and the octopus

Your morning started… not normal in the normal sense of the word. Just normal for you though.

A dirty chai latte, one student portalling crisis, two meetings, one with accounting (because taxes are still a thing even for Kamar Taj) and another with the Sorcerer Supreme and you were halfway through the morning.

“We could find more affordable uniforms for students,” you say, reading from a list of possible budget cuts. “Still all natural fibers, as to conduct their energies appropriately, but manufactured closer to home?” You look up across the table at Wong. “And do we really need to provide five different styles of robes for one class?”

Wong’s face is an unreadable frown (or at least unreadable for most). He narrows his eyes and you prepare to scratch the idea off your list with your pen. “A possibility to be explored,” he says gruffly. Lifting your brow in surprise you nod and make a note on your notepad. “What else?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you prattle through the list. “… sling ring replacement fees, five students have reported theirs missing for the London Sanctum this week alone. Master Hamid had an interesting suggestion: Kamar Taj spiritual tours---”

“No,” Wong cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “Just no.”

“I rather liked the Food Truck Dimension food court idea he had,” you mutter, as you draw a line through the next ten lines of ideas.

“You need to get out more,” and with a sigh, Wong pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment, “Y/N…”

Standing up, you slide the packet of proposals across the table. “You’re going to have to get creative. Everyone knows we exist now and with higher enrollment in our mystic arts classes we can’t continue to give as freely as we once did. The taxes alone from the U.S. government on the New York Sanctum are enough to wipe us out.”

“Did you explain—”

“That they can’t tax a pocket dimension attached to a townhouse?” you finish for him as he picks up his phone. “It all went over their heads.” Setting a hand on your hip, you wait for a reply, but Wong is focused on his cellphone, that permanent frown a downright scowl now. “What’s got your attention now?” you ask.

Without looking up, he says, “There’s an octopus attacking New York.”

You open your mouth, close it with a frown then take a breath. “An octopus?” you repeat, stepping around the table as Wong shows you his phone and sure enough you see a giant, one eyed, magical octopus holding up a city bus. Shaking your head, you step back and lean against the table. “In New York? Stephen can handle it,” you say with a nonchalant shrug.

Shaking his head, Wong swipes at the screen before holding it up to your face. A video plays now of chaotic streets, people screaming and running and a tentacle throwing a man in a familiar cape through the air, the dash of red disappearing as he crashes through a storefront window.

“Does that look like he’s handling it?” Wong grouses, shoving his phone in his pocket and putting on his sling ring.

“Have fun storming the city,” you hum, looking down at your toes as you cross your arms. Swinging his arms, the man looks back at you, portal sparking into existence. He rolls his eyes.

“Your assistance would be appreciated,” he seethes though you know it’s not malicious.

“I’m a bit busy,” you answer immediately, “lessons and what not—”

“Master L/N.” You look up at the sound of your name and Wong’s next words carry authority. “Your assistance is required by the Sorcerer Supreme, to protect the New York Sanctum,” he orders. “Immediately,” he says before you can protest.

Your teeth grind together and you run through all scenarios of what a possible refusal would entail. You know you can’t refuse – not Wong. Breathing out through your nose, you push yourself off the table and toss your notepad onto the chair. A hand disappears into your pocket, fingers searching and finding a heavy familiar weight. Sling ring slipped on you step towards Wong.

“I’m only going for the octopus,” you say as light streams in through the tunnel. He glances at you, a wry smile breaking through.

“Of course,” he says, stepping through the portal. You follow. The city street is a mess, cars smashed, the entire line of stores have had their windows busted. On one corner, a fire hydrant is spewing water, and on the other a boxed tree is in flames. And honestly it smells like fish. You wrinkle your nose, turning as the portal closes behind you. Your eyes scan the store fronts as you bite the inside of your cheek.

No sign of him.

“You know I really wish we could put a pause on fighting tentacled interdimensional –” a scream cuts you off as you find Wong facing said interdimensional monster. A young woman, a girl really is wrapped in a large rune covered tentacle, and in the next moment, she’s freed by Wong’s magic. With a flick of his hands, she’s carried through the air, towards you, only once she’s safely on the ground behind Wong, does he turn and look at you.

“I brought you for backup, you know,” he says, looking at your, as of yet, unused sling ring.

You shrug. “You’re the boss,” he throws another stringed dagger at the creature, “and you seem to be handling it just fine.” Leaping forward, Wong takes off running towards the creature, magical sword in hand, a yell left behind in his wake. “Guess that means it’s my turn then,” you sigh.

Hands spread out in front of you. With practiced moves, your fingers twist, plucking invisible strings as sparks come to life and soon the familiar weight of your staff rests in your hands, the wood seeming to meld to your grip just so. You glanced down at the Silverwood staff, gems dotting the surface, each turning a different color like oil on water.

“Watch out!” a voice yells behind you. You look up, two tentacles bearing down on your position, ready to squash you like an ant. Lifting your staff, you spin, slamming it into the ground as magic explodes around you, intricate lines and planes wrapping around you in a shield that would make the novices at Kamar Taj faint. And like bugs on a windshield, the creature’s arms spread out, leaving slimy residue in their tracks where your shield burns its flesh.

Gritting your teeth you look to your left, at the girl in the denim jacket, the girl this oversized sushi bar seems hellbent on eating. “Hey there,” you say, knees bending under the weight pressing down on your shield, as she stares at you wide eyed.

She raises one hand hesitantly. “Hi…?”

Raising one hand you point to the store cattycorner. “When I say go, run that way.”

“But what about—”

Shaking your head, you turn back to the monster as it throws Wong into the air. He’s gonna blame me for that later, you think to yourself. You turn back to the girl and give as reassuring a smile as you can as Wong yells behind you. “It won’t see you,” you tell her.

Giving a nod that she’s on board, you turn back. Your staff spins in your hands, a spell beginning to form as you walk forward. You draw closer to the creature, further spinning your web. Gotta make it big enough to cover the street. With a wave of one hand, the casting lines start to expand, up and outward, covering the ground and the first five floors of every building. You push it away from you until it reaches the end of the block. You glance behind you catching sight of the girl one last time, a quick glance taking in as many features as you can capture, weaving them into your spell too.

Bringing both hands to the center of your staff you widen your stance and stare up at the giant red eye glaring down at you. “Go!” you yell. You don’t wait to see if she listens to you, letting the spell loose upon the world. It’s a blur at first and then it comes into focus.

Hundreds of copies run past you, with the same dark hair and star embroidered jacket. This way and that, they move around you and the creature doesn’t know which one to follow. It lifts itself up, using the buildings on either side of the street as supports, its eye darting all over. It can’t see you, or her, your positions hidden under the incantation. You don’t even know where she is. It’s working. You breathe out, focusing on keeping your grip on the spell, keeping it in check, in stark contrast with reality.

And then the spell starts to fight you. It’s like a string pulled too tight, the fibers stretching beyond their ability, tearing apart one by one. You grit your teeth. No, no, no stay—

You look up. “Oh, no.” The spell flickers out, it’s like you blinked for a millisecond. Then it comes back. But you can feel it. Slipping away. It starts to fizzle out on the edges as you scramble, pushing as much power as you can into the spell, trying to buy another second, another moment. Just a little more time.

Gone. It’s gone.

Letting out a harsh breath, your lungs burn as you quickly breathe in, having held your breath without knowing it. You lean against the staff, eyes focusing on the ground as a large shadow looms over you. You look up. Above you, the monster, staring at you unblinking, like a cat watching a mouse. Then movement catches your eye, at the end of the street.

You had one job to do kid: hide!

Out in the open, definitely not hidden, the girl of the hour stands in the middle of the street. And you’re not the only one who sees her. Turning over, the octopus spots her.

“Run!” you shout. Pulled out of her stupor, she turns and sprints down the street. Throwing your hands up above your head, you release your staff. As it leaves your hands, it disappears and you conjure three arrows, launching them at the back of the beast. It continues after her, unbothered as the arrows embed themselves in its flesh. And you’re too focused on conjuring another volley to notice the wayward arm coming at you from the side.

It hits you like a freight train. You’re thrown back. And you brace yourself for sudden contact with the car behind you, – the pain of metal colliding with flesh – it never comes. Instead, you are caught. Two arms wrap around you, halting your momentum. It’s still jarring. You blink through the dust, and shake your head to try and fight off the dizzy spell – thanks to the tentacle to the face — that has you muddled. And then a voice murmurs behind you, exasperated.

“An illusion spell. Really?”

Looking over your shoulder, you come face to face with Stephen, his cool colored eyes staring down at you with annoyance clouding his gaze.

You lean forward, legs finding their footing and push away from the man behind you. But it’s too late. You’re back on the river bank, the war for the universe finished and done.

Cold, dark night. Battlefield aglow with smoldering embers, the fight long past. There’s smoke on the wind. And you see him. For the first time in five years – you really see him, not some semblance of him in a fading dream you can’t seem to shake. He turns. He sees you.

Then he turns away. You stand frozen, blitzed by the sudden indifference left in his wake as he walks past, disappearing into a quickly closing portal. He’s gone again, only this time he leaves you with no apology, no excuses. Like five years ago never happened. Like you’re nothing.

You wipe your cheek on your sleeve and look to the side. Stephen is already focused on the creature and Wong, but he glances at you. And you’re not sure what he wants to say. So, you beat him to it.

“I suppose you would have done it differently?” you snark, stepping to the side as he conjures an axe and throws it past you, severing the arm that has Wong in midair.

You start walking in tandem, Stephen gesturing to the talisman around his neck, the metal glowing with magic. “I wouldn’t have cast an illusion after the Eye of Agamotto was opened to reveal---”

“—that which had been hidden,” you finish for him, realizing your mistake, though there’s a begrudging tone in your voice. He raises an eyebrow, that one look filled with so much grating judgement. Then you reach Wong. “I was unaware it had been used,” you explain quickly, “I would have chosen another method if I had.”

Stephen points up at the building ahead of you, a little speck of a person scrambling along the window ledge. “Tell her that,” he says.

You bite back your retort as Wong steps between you, stopping you with his own special brand of finish bickering or I’ll finish it for you. “You two didn’t even make it three minutes without arguing,” he says and you start to argue, but he’s turned to the octopus that’s beginning to climb the building. “I don’t know why I try,” he mutters. Slapping his hands together, he begins to cast a chain spell. You and Stephen follow suit.

“You’re welcome by the way,” Stephen says. It grates your nerves and you glance at him. He’s not even looking at you and you know the comment was just his way of getting the last word.

Grasping your chain, you begin to swing it, readying to send it after the demon. “You know it’s tradition to bow in the presence of the Sorcerer Supreme, don’t you, Strange?” Wong looks at you and you shrug.

In sync, you all throw your chains as Stephen turns to you, a smirk on his face. “I’m aware of the --- whoa!”

Wind flies over your skin as you’re pulled up, the chains no match for subduing your prey. As it climbs, it carries you and you smile as Wong and Stephen crash into the building, groaning out their pain. You catch yourself, boots colliding with the stonework. You look over your shoulder, and find the two men just barely holding onto their spells.

“Any bright ideas?” you shout and Stephen throws a green flame upwards. It arcs towards the creature, a jolt running through your chain as a wayward arm catch all of your spells and pulls you upwards suddenly. And what do you do?

You let go. Wong falls. You don’t see Stephen.

Upward momentum carries you higher and higher until you reach the apex, where gravity seems to finally remember it has a job to do, and your stomach flips. But before you can truly fall, you reach out. Like striking vipers, the green dyed bandages around your arms glow. They fly out from you, unravelling to leave your skin bare. They stretch and stretch, searching for something to hold onto. They find it a floor below the mystery girl, on an iron framed window, the glass busted out, and proceed to twist around the iron supports tightly. And just when they start to slip out of your hands, you grip them tight. Like a rubber band they pull you towards the building, winding round your wrists once more as you crash onto the stone ledge. You roll onto your stomach, ignoring the pain erupting up your side. Bruised ribs or broken?

You kneel and look up. Stephen is dangling above you, wriggling in an octopus arm (not a sentence you thought you’d ever use), his hands bound. Snapping your fingers, you conjure a dagger, grip the blade, aim and throw. It flies through the air, and finds its mark in the flesh of the tentacle. Rock falls from above as the monster flinches and loses its grip on the building.

And on Stephen. Then he takes care of the rest. You watch as he sends a set of shade hands down below, tears up a light post and uses it to pluck out the octopus’ great big eye.

It’s a flash. Over. You look on as the monster falls down on the street below. It seems so far and for a moment, it’s all silence. Then you spy Wong and a portal in the center of the crosswalk with Stephen and the girl walking out of it. You take a breath. Monster’s gone. Time to go.

You turn to the side and raise your sling ring to open your own gateway. You focus on your rooms, the Sanctum’s floors and yellow drapes. It’s in your mind. And then it’s gone. You don’t know why. Or maybe you do and you just don’t want to get into it right now, because the portal is open and you’re staring at Wong and Stephen, the latter catching the girl by the arm before she can run off.

You step through, straightening your robes, dusting off the left side of your tunic skirt, trying not to look anywhere in particular. Nonchalant. That’s what you’re going for.

“Hey!” Stephen’s yell catches your attention and you look up. They’re watching the girl run off down the street, heading for the nearest corner she can get to.

You step up behind him and shake your head. “I don’t think she likes us very much,” you say. The two men look back at you, before Stephen turns away, eyes darting away from yours like he’s just seen you naked. He raises his left hand and starts to conjure with his right, before dropping his gaze to his hand.

“She took my slingie,” he says as you watch her run off. Without missing a beat, you turn to Wong, who’s already opening a portal.

“I told you we should have fines for lost sling rings.”

~~~~~~

A/N: Well. Something happened with Stephen and Y/N. Any guesses?

Taglist:Let me know if you want to be added for future parts!

@cemak (congrats on being the one and only person who asked for more of this fic XD). <3

#stephen strange #Stephen strange x reader #stephen strange reader #stephen strange x fem!reader #Doctor strange #Doctor Strange angst #Stephen Strange angst #Doctor Strange smut #Stephen Strange smut #doctor strange 2 #doctor strange: mom #multiverse of madness

220 notes · View notes

carusolikey · 19 days

Text

The Blue Hour

a Max Phillips & Bloodsucking Bastards FanFic

Relax, Sweetness - just a few more Easter Eggs and Max will be happy to help you with your basket!

Return to Chapter 5, Part 2

Return to Masterlist!

Chapter 5, Part 2/2: Max, You've Got Some Explaining to Do

Whoopsidoodle, innit?

“I don’t know the name of it, but I vaguely remember that there were crazy babies, and you were begging them not to turn off lights. Which doesn’t sound very profound, but–” -- The song that Max first heard sung was Crazy Baby by Joan Osborne. While Joan is primarily known for her banger hit What if God Was One of Us? which also sparked "Nose-Ring-Gate" (people felt hurt and lied to when they discovered her nose ring was fake), this piece is an underrated classic, and the lyrics really do speak to someone who is struggling, who needs help holding on and moving forward.

And your hands are really shakin' something awful As you light your 27th cigarette Oh how long have you been sittin' in the darkness You forget Oh you know you're gettin' really hard to be with And you're cryin' every time you turn around And you wonder why you cannot pick your head up Off the ground Oh my crazy baby Try to hold on tight Oh my crazy baby Don't put out the light, the light, the light, the light And they look at you like they don't speak your language And you're living at the bottom of a well And you swallowed all the awful bloody secrets That you can't tell Oh you know you ought to get yourself together But you can not bear to walk outside your door No, you can not bear to look into the mirror Anymore, anymore Oh my crazy baby Try to hold on tight Oh my crazy baby Don't put out the light, the light, the light, the light And your hands are really shakin' something awful As your worries crawl around inside your clothes Ooh how long will you be sittin' in the darkness Heaven knows Oh my crazy baby Try to hold on tight Oh my crazy baby Don't put out the light, the light, the light, the light, the light, the light, the light, the light, the light, the light

Max has mentioned that his office does offer Vampire Therapy, which is great - and he's getting out there, reaching out and slowly meeting new people. If you're finding yourself identifying with the lyrics of this song and having a hard time reaching out to others, this website provides a lot of different tools, support, and resources for those struggling - including, creatively enough, music playlists to help with moods:

“Nooooo. Whyyyyyy. I asked for a leopard print snuggie.” I responded, flailing lightly." -- Everybody needs a leopard print snuggie. Why am I upselling so much? I don't work on commission here! Uggggghhh.

You know what? No. Ignore that. Look at this instead:

"Max shrugged as he put on his tie, “I’m an enigma - and I don’t know that 500 words is enough for me to fully go Crazy On describing what my favorite song is and why. Why does it have to be one, Alone? They’ve all got their own Magic, Man. This feels like some sort of Barracuda fishing expedition! Geez!” -- Listen - if you haven't, you just need to sit down for a moment and allow yourself to be mesmerized by the incredible abilities of these badass women:

youtube

Nuh-uh - I'm not done yet.

youtube

Omg. They're so cool. Should I get bangs? No? Yes. No? Maybe.

youtube

"Suddenly, a giant, open-mouthed smile spread across his face, and he danced backwards out of the bedroom, doing a combination of disco and Gangnam Style..." If you're too young to know what Gangnam Style is, you're TOO YOUNG TO READ THIS FIC!

youtube

"They were gifts I gave him, this isn’t a shrine with hair dolls made from hair he secretly collected from my hairbrush." -- Okay - this is from an early Jason Schwartzman + Devon Sawa (Oh! remember him as Casper? Dreamy! But also he was arrested for DV in 2005, so.... eeeh) movie called Slackers which is surprisingly, a raunchy 2002 teen rom-com (shrugs) about a guy who's a bit of a stalker (Jason Scwartzman) who blackmails some slackers who've been cheating their way through college, into helping him win the heart of the object of his affection. Does it work? No. He's a creep who collects hair dolls. (Below is a compilation of scenes from the movie, starting with the hair doll bit.)

youtube

"In order to get closer to you, I have to lose myself. In the closeness when I cease to exist, you always want something else."

Caruso loves to knock out the OG poems and talk about herself in the third person, what can I say? This is not Max inspired, obviously, he would never. It's something I wrote somewhere off on my own.

You bleed me dry on the sly, Even if it’s just with your brown eyes. Secretly though, just bite me.

Now this one was written for Max. I mean - one can dream, eh?

"My mind went straight to Sookie Stackhouse in True Blood, and her vampire paramours, constantly fang-banging." Now this is a book series, yes. But it's also a fantastic, funny television series that is absolutely worth the over-the-top drama. The acting is *chef's kiss*! I don't even know how I would begin to name a favorite? Lafayette? The King of New Orleans? Ugh. Don't make me.

youtube

By the time you finish the first few episodes, you won't be able to stop walking around, huskily whispering, "Ssssoookie," like a regular Bill Compton.

youtube

And so the Easter Eggs for Part 2 of Chapter 5 come to a close - until we meet again for Chapter 6!

Return to the Masterlist Here or, while you're waiting for chapter 6, be sure to check out my other fanfics: • Javi G. from The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, Paddington 3: Lost in Mallorca. • A cheeky little one-off about Young Joel from The Last of Us in High Heat, Heavy Load.

Return to Chapter 5, Part 2

#Pedro Pascal is a Sexy Fuckin' Vamp #Max Phillips x afab!fem!reader #Bloodsucking Bastards FanFic #Just Say No To Twilight #Endometriosis + Adenomyosis Friendly Sex Romps

3 notes · View notes

bells-of-black-sunday · 7 months

Note

🗯️ Danny and Haru ooo

Dirty Thoughts | Accepting

That pale gaze stared at Haru from across the dinner table mulling in his own thoughts while Robin was away, how loud and boisterous he was. Beloved even. Though the company he kept wasn't stellar, a tattoo artist whose one bad date away from a drug addiction and a scam artist who preyed on the desperate to give fake life advice to those two were certainly something to write home about, huh? Oh, but Tarhos wasn't any better was he? A washed up veteran with more baggage than an airport, really he was waiting for him to snap or throw himself into an early grave one thing or another. But... Haru.

Oh yes Danny could make quite the story out of Haruko Nakasone. An unusual name, but sometimes you just needed a little spice to get the creativity flowing. He'd start preparing a month in advance, Robin would understand after all he'd need to keep his precious guard dog by his side for as long as possible to make sure everything would go off smoothly. Stalk out his workplace, find out what he actually liked drawing the most something to pull inspiration from.

He couldn't do that with their apartment easily, he knew they had security systems. They'd be stupid if they didn't with what his war dog did for a living. Oh, but the anguish would be so sweet to write about if he did. Being killed in your own home while you beg and plead for your boyfriend, anyone really to come and save you and to think the artist probably begged for one parent or another the first time someone tried to kill him. Funny how thematic that would be. Almost like a movie.

He'd enter through the front door when Haru takes his dog down the stairs like he always did every night before bed. And while he didn't expect an elderly dog to get in the way, especially when he's met her before, he wasn't above neutralizing it or locking her outside if she did become one. Still... he'd start by closing the front door again, that'd certainly get his attention. Make him come out into their living room to search for his beloved boyfriend to welcome him home from work.

But no one would come. He'd probably be confused, shrug it off and turn to go back to what he was doing when he'd notice the tv turn on. That'd scare the shit out of him. He'd always been one of the idiots afraid of the paranormal, but there'd be a sinking feeling in his gut that this wasn't that. This was something far more dangerous and only when that feeling is more realized is when he'd strike. A perfect crescendo of emotions, a hand over a mouth and a knife in the side. The pretty crimson that'd flow down his tank top and drip onto the floor.

He'd struggle of course, probably try to scream, he's not totally helpless, but Ghostface was more than capable of handling people like that. He'd stab his throat to make sure he couldn't be as loud as he wanted though maybe he'd toy with him first. Maybe between his ribs or cut his tendons so he couldn't move while he carved his own designs into his flesh. A perfect spectacle to capture the readers eye. How fun it would be, "The Ghostface Strikes Again: Local Tattoo Artist Found Dead, Strangle Symbol Carved Into The Deceased!" a working title naturally, but he could spin it as him taunting the police.

But oh how he'd love watching him choke on his own blood, tears streaming down his cheeks as he begs for anyone to come and help, or maybe he'd realize he's dead. He loved to see them break. The moment where their mind finally realizes the inevitability of their death was the best part, he loved capturing those moments in photographs. Maybe he'd pose him like the Ophelia painting in his bathtub and stick around to watch Tarhos sob.

Oh the aftermath would be fun, to be so closely connected to those that would be effected Danny almost wondered why he never killed people he was close to before. To see the very real effects his stories had up close would be so breathtaking, but alas... it'd have to remain a fantasy. The killer focused back into his surroundings as Robin tasseled his hair. Only then did he notice how deathly pale Haru seemed to look while he stared at him.

The cool sweat that clung to his brow as Tarhos tried to get his perfect boyfriend's attention. Danny smiled something saccharine, "What's wrong Haruko? You look like you seen a ghost."

#ic #𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘍𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘖𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 - [ 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 ]#verse; modern #tw; murder #tw; blood #tw; torture #tw; animal death #look its dirty because uhh blood is involved there-#hi- I'm writing about Danny being the horrible person he is #q.

4 notes · View notes

dandthegods · 1 year

Text

My Uncle Dionysus

a short story

My Uncle Dionysus

By; Darren Almgren

Being a demigod is weird nowadays. Not that it was ever “normal”, but you don’t have legacy quests, minotaurs or hydras to slay, and the tax benefits are basically non-existent. But, one of the perks that I enjoy is my uncle. I can be myself around him and now that I’m on my own I can see him a lot more than my mother would approve of.

Last night, I went over to his apartment. We spent most of the night watching movies, eating pizza, and drinking. Well, I was drinking. It hadn’t occurred to me until that night that my uncle almost never drank - despite having such a well stocked liquor cabinet and an entire wall in his dining room dedicated to a massive wine rack.

“Hey, D,” I said when this dawned on me, “why don’t you drink when I’m here?” I swallowed a mouthful of pizza. “If you don’t mind me asking.” My uncle smiled and cocked a bushy eyebrow.

“When have I ever minded your questions?” He picked up my half full glass of wine and stared at it. “To be honest, I don’t have a taste for it. Never have. Everyone else tastes sweetness, earthy notes, chocolate, and maybe a bitter aftertaste. But for me…” he took a small sip and made a quizzical face, “it always tastes sour and metallic. Almost exactly like blood.” He put the glass back on the coffee table. “It’s still alcohol and will still do its job to get even a god plastered, but it's not the same.” He sat back and ran a hand through his shoulder-length brown hair. “I’ve talked to Jesus about it. He says it's the same for him too. Moreso, even. Maybe it’s the whole ‘blood of christ’ thing for him - its his literal blood. But me?” My uncle shrugged.

“What about the rest of it?” I asked. “Alcohol, I mean.”

“That’s just a preference thing. I’m known for my supposed love of booze, but I’ve never really liked it. Even when I was getting sloshed every other night back in the day, I still never actually liked the taste of it. I simply help others lose their inhibitions to let them love and explore themselves. I can have a good time staying as sober as your mom. How is she by the way?” I shrugged.

“She’s who she is. Doesn’t much care about what I do outside of work…especially who I’m with.Just cares about work.” I absentmindedly checked my phone, instinctively opening my work email app before quickly shutting it off before my inbox could even load.

“Yeah,” said my uncle with a sigh, “Athena really has changed a lot. But, that’s what you get when all people remember you as is a mathematician or a librarian or patron of teachers or some shit like that. It’s such a small pigeonhole. Gods are subject to how we’re remembered. Even me,” he gestured to the wine bottle on the table and at the rock and punk posters on the walls. “I’m known as the drunk party animal. Lord of the bacchanalia, and Dionysus: the sex fiend of Olympus. I play the part, but I haven’t completely dissolved into the stereotypes.”

“Yeah,” i said and took a sip of wine. “Mom doesn’t talk about it, but I can tell she misses the old days. She still has her shield and spear hanging in her office.” I paused. “But all she talks about is work.”

“I was surprised when I heard you were majoring in accounting,” my uncle said. “Creative kid like you, I thought you would follow in my or Apollo’s footsteps. How’s the writing going, anyways? I liked that last story you sent me.” I leaned back into the plush recliner I was in and smiled.

“Thanks. It’s going good. I’m kinda stuck with this one part. I’m trying to write this romance in, I think it could work, but its the…emotions I’m struggling with. The actions I’m good on, that’s the easy part. But I just don’t have a whole lot of experience to pull from without resorting to pop-song-cliches.” The image of Matt, the guy I’d been on a few dates with recently popped in my head. The three dates we’d been on had been my longest relationship I’d had, and even then it wasn't going very far out of necessity. My mom would never approve of him, or any guy I brought home.

My uncle chuckled and stretched out across his leather couch. His slim body arched slightly as he got comfortable. His silk shirt was unbuttoned halfway to expose his hairy chest. It may have just been because of the leopard print of the shirt, but I suddenly understood why he was associated with panthers lounging out in the Grecian sun. A hand dangled down to the floor and he scratched his bearded chin with the other.

“I don’t know if I can help you much,” he said. “I’ve had a shit ton of dates, one-night-stands, and a few marriages. But it can be hard to put that stuff, those feelings, into words.” He looked around the living room then pointed to a tall, thin bookshelf in the corner. “That doll there I got from Maria. Gorgeous woman. Skin like good espresso and thigh that could crack a coconut like an egg. I spent a long hot summer in Spain with her. Even got to meet her brother. But she left by Labor Day.” He pointed to a Green Day poster hanging on the wall behind the TV. “I met a guy named…James? Jack? Something with a ‘J’. Anyway, met him and had a nice quickie in the back of his old pickup at the concert. Doubt he remembers me. That was back in ‘97, I think.” My uncle picked at the crocheted throw blanket draped over the back of the couch as the Queen record that was on started playing My Best Friend. “Emily made this for me before she died. 60 years I spent with her. Heart made of gold and eyes like diamonds. Took a while to get past it…” he trailed off in thought.

“Was she ‘the one’?” I asked. My uncle shook his head.

“Nah,” he said, still rubbing the yarn in his fingers. “No, gods don’t usually get soulmates, or one-true-loves, or any of that kind of a connection. We live too long for that. Zeus and Hera and Hades and Persephone make it look too easy sometimes. But, they’ve had their fair share of shitty decades. They’re part of the exception. Them and…” he trailed off again, then adjusted his shoulders and laid his hand across his chest.

“I met this guy once, way back in the day. Cutest thing ever I’d ever seen. First met him on a river. He was playing a peppy little tune on his panpipes while sitting cross-legged on this big log. Well, I followed the music and waited for him to finish before talking to him. You know how musicians can be when interrupted. I thought even for a satyr he was cute. Short curly hair, sun-tanned skin, and eyes like emeralds flecked with gold. We ended up talking for the rest of the day on that log. Talked about everything under the sun. In the quiet moments we just couldn’t stop glancing at each other and laughing when we caught the other looking.

“Spent almost every day together. And every night,” my uncle smiled at me and winked. I stifled a laugh while taking a bite of pizza. My uncle laughed. “Yeah, and it’s true what they say about satyrs, too. Can go all night if you let them.” He started chewing on a nail on his left hand. “Weird looking cocks, though. It’s the goat-hald, you know. But anyway. He was a lot of fun. I don’t think anything has made me laugh as hard as him. Could make anything funny.” My uncle looked at the ceiling and sighed. “But sometimes he tried too hard. The last time…” he stopped and his tone got really serious and sounded unnatural coming from him.

“We’d found the pasture where your great-great aunt Selene had her cows. We watched them for a while, then Ampelos got this idea to kinda mess with them. An ancient version of a rodeo. So, he found the huge bull and climbed on. It was so fucking funny to see this little goat dancing on the back of a bucking bull. He started singing and yelling about being the ‘master of the bull’ or something like that.” He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “Whatever it was, it was really bad. Before we knew it, your aunt selene came down from her almighty throne in the stars and started yelling at Ampelos. He said something back. I guess it was the laughter with it that really pissed off Selene. And you know her generation, they’re quick on the punishments.” My uncle shifted on the couch and stared out of the open blinds at the full moon shining through. “And then he was on the ground…laying in the grass and cowshit…his stomach gored open by the bull’s horns.”

A shiver ran down my spine at the silence that ended the story. My uncle kept glaring out at the moon. I looked down, not sure what to do, but when I looked back at him, my uncle’s beard was bristling as his mouth trembled and his eyes were filled with tears. He lifted the arm that was draped down to the carpet and reached over to the wine bottle on the coffee table. He extended only his middle finger to touch the bottle. Instantly at his touch, a vine sprouted from the open mouth, twisting down and around the bottle and down the leg of the table to the floor. Leaves sprouted on the vine and between the star-shaped leaves bunches of dark grapes grew and swelled. When the grapevine started to wind up another leg of the coffee table from the floor, my uncle withdrew his hand and folded his arm across his chest. The Queen record ended and I got up.

“What would you like me to put on?” I asked as I got to the record player. My uncle didn’t reply or move. I lifted the needle and the vinyl stopped spinning. As I began to finger through the shelves of albums under the player, my uncle spoke up.

“Don’t let anyone tell you who you can or can’t love. Promise me that, kid. Life keeps rolling, so grab all of it that you can get.”

“Yeah,” I said over my shoulder. “Of course.” I flipped through a few more albums then found an old and battered Madonna LP. Thinking some dance music might cheer him up, I pulled it out and turned around. “Hey, what about —.” I stopped when I realized he was gently snoring. The green vine had faded to a withered yellow and the bunches of grapes and leaves were shriveled with some having fallen onto the floor.

I put the record back on the shelf and went over to the coffee table. Quietly I picked up the plates and glasses and the pizza box and brought them to the kitchen. I put the half full pizza box in the fridge and the dishes in the sink. I went back to the living room and carefully cleaned up the table, careful not to disturb the wine bottle or the vine that grew from it. When it was all tidy, I turned off the living room lamp and left my uncle sleeping on the couch. Laying in the spare bedroom, I thought about my uncle’s story and what he’d said and didn’t say. In the morning, I texted Matt, inviting him over for dinner.

13 notes · View notes