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idkyetxoxo · 29 days

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Jacaerys Velaryon - Leap of Fate

Summary - A young woman's daring climb over a wall to escape an arranged union leads to an unexpected encounter with her betrothed himself. What begins as a night of escape becomes the start of an enchanting story of love and destiny.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2102

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

I took a deep breath, my gaze locked on the stone wall ahead. The sky, darkening with the approach of night, cast eerie, elongated shadows that flickered like ghosts on the rough surface.

My palms grew sweaty, and a shiver of anxiety ran down my spine. The height of the wall seemed to mock my courage.

"Alright, if I can just make that jump and haul myself up, I should be able to manage the rest from there," I murmured to myself, my voice tinged with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

With a resolute nod, I steeled myself, my teeth clenched in a grimace of concentration. My fingers dug into the wall's jagged surface, desperately searching for any crevice that would hold.

The coarse texture of the stone scraped against my skin, each movement sending a jolt of pain up my arms. I glanced down, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Seven hells," I muttered under my breath as the dizzying height made itself known.

I pressed on, scaling the wall as best as I could. Halfway up, I dared to believe I was making progress, but fate had other plans. My foot slipped on a precarious rock, and I felt myself plummet to the ground.

I landed with a jarring thud, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.

A muffled cry escaped me as I lay sprawled on the ground, staring up at the indigo expanse of the night sky. The stars seemed to mock my plight.

With a groan, I pushed myself up, brushing off my cloak in frustration. Realizing it was more of a hindrance than a help, I tossed it aside, my frustration evident.

Determined not to be thwarted, I tried again, managing to reach just under halfway before pausing to reassess.

"What are you doing, my lady?" a voice called out suddenly.

I yelped in surprise, my fingers losing their grip as I scrambled to regain my balance. In a graceless tumble, I crashed to the ground.

I lay there, staring up at the heavens, lamenting my misfortune as the voice approached.

"Don't touch me!" I snapped, my voice sharp as he reached out to help me. He quickly withdrew, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, and I sighed heavily, glancing from the wall to him.

"Scaling the wall, what else does it look like?" I replied, my exasperation clear. He seemed taken aback by my tone.

"Why are you scaling the wall at this hour?" he asked, his tone genuine but puzzled. I considered his question for a moment before a sudden idea sparked in my mind.

"Yes, that's perfect!" I exclaimed, turning to him with a bright, hopeful smile. His sceptical gaze met mine.

"You could give me a boost up, and then I can navigate the tricky part," I suggested. He took a step back, extinguishing my hopeful smile with his reluctance.

"No," he said firmly and I groaned in frustration.

"You are truly a horrible person," I declared, my voice laden with annoyance. "How can you see a lady in distress and not offer assistance?"

His reaction was a surprising burst of laughter, a reaction that did nothing but further annoy me.

"If you tell me why you're attempting such a daring escape, I promise I will help you afterwards," he said, crossing his arms with a look of genuine curiosity.

I pursed my lips, contemplating whether to reveal my predicament.

"If you must know," I began, as he listened intently. "My family has betrothed me to the prince."

I watched his eyes widen slightly. "I do not wish to marry him. I have never even met him. What if he's ugly or dull, or worse, a terrible person?" I finished, my irritation clear.

Instead of offering sympathy, he laughed again—this time, with genuine amusement.

"I'm glad my predicament amuses you, but you promised to help me, so you must," I insisted, gesturing for him to come closer. He obliged, but then abruptly halted.

"I will not assist you over the wall," he said, his tone resolute. I sighed in exasperation, feeling as though this ordeal would never end, my patience quickly wearing thin.

"I will not help my future wife escape our union," he added.

The weight of his words hit me like a blow, and my eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief swirling in my mind as the reality of the situation sank in.

"Prince Jacaerys?" I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and satisfaction.

The colour drained from my face as the realization settled. I had been scaling the wall to escape my own arranged marriage, only to find that the prince, my betrothed, had caught me and was now standing right in front of me.

My eyes swept over him, taking in every detail. He was nothing like I had imagined. Far from the monster I had conjured in my mind, he was undeniably handsome, with an effortless charisma that immediately dispelled my worst fears.

I couldn't help but wonder how I had ever thought of running from someone like him.

"My prince, I truly apologize," I stuttered, attempting an awkward curtsy.

I was painfully aware of how absurd the situation was, struggling to reconcile my desperate escape with the reality of facing my would-be husband.

He watched me with a mix of amusement and curiosity, clearly enjoying the irony of our encounter.

I fumbled for the right words, my mind racing to understand how to address the man who was both my captor and the very reason I had been trying to flee.

He watched me with a new, softer gaze, and a genuine smile curved his lips.

"No one told me you were this beautiful," he said, his voice warm and approving. "In fact, you might be too beautiful. People will talk."

My cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and I fumbled with my words as I attempted a modest, "Thank you." The compliment, unexpected and sincere, left me momentarily flustered.

He arched an eyebrow playfully. "Do you think I am ugly and dull?" His question, though lighthearted, made me acutely aware of how disoriented I was, struggling to maintain my composure.

"My prince," I stammered, my voice trembling with earnestness, "I spoke on impulse. I truly did not mean anything I said." My confession was met with a soft chuckle from him, the sound both reassuring and disarming.

"Would you still like assistance up the wall?" he asked, his tone now imbued with a teasing edge.

I glanced from the daunting height of the wall to him, and then back to the wall, shaking my head in resignation.

He grinned, clearly amused by the turn of events. His expression softened, and he took a step closer, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of mischief and warmth.

"Then perhaps we should discuss our next course of action," he suggested, the lightness in his tone making the situation seem less dire. He leaned slightly closer, his gaze both curious and engaging.

"What troubled you enough to consider scaling a wall to escape me?" he asked, a playful edge in his voice that made it difficult not to smile at his jest.

I hesitated, then answered simply, "I do not know you."

He clicked his tongue thoughtfully, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. "You are correct," he said, nodding slowly. "We can change that."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts before offering a glimpse into his life. "I enjoy training with my brother Luke," he began, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Although he's not the best sparring partner, he tends to be too gentle in his approach. I also find great joy in soaring through the skies on my dragon, Vermax and, above all, I have a deep fondness for cake, especially lemon cake."

I stared at him for a moment, slightly taken aback by the unexpected turn the conversation had taken. His casual, almost endearing revelations seemed to defy the seriousness of our earlier exchange.

"Now, you must tell me something about yourself, my lady," he prompted, breaking the silence.

I shook myself from my daze and nodded slowly. "I enjoy reading," I began, trying to match his openness. "Occasionally, I like to go swimming in the open sea and most of all, I treasure the time I spend with my kitten, Biscuit."

He smiled warmly at my response. "We must arrange a meeting between Vermax and Biscuit," he suggested with a playful glint in his eye.

I raised an eyebrow. "And what if Vermax thinks Biscuit is his next snack?" The thought of my kitten being mistaken for a dragon's treat was not entirely comforting.

He laughed quietly, the sound rich and melodic. "I would protect Biscuit with all my strength," he assured me, his voice earnest.

"But," he continued, with a mischievous gleam, "if Biscuit were to take a daring leap onto Vermax's back, I might have to step in to mediate a peaceful introduction."

I chuckled, the image of Biscuit attempting such a bold manoeuvre brought a reluctant smile to my face. "Well, if you're prepared to play dragon diplomat, I suppose I can trust you with my precious kitten."

He placed a hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture. "Consider it my solemn vow," he declared with mock seriousness.

I couldn't help but laugh, the tension of our earlier conversation melting away. "I'll hold you to that, my prince. I'd hate to have to explain why my kitten became dragon fodder."

Our laughter was abruptly interrupted by a clap of thunder, and I jumped slightly at the sudden sound. The sky was now darkening rapidly.

"Perhaps we can continue this conversation inside," he suggested, his tone both practical and inviting. "Now that you've decided not to run off." I bit my lip, nodding sheepishly at the jeer.

As a small downpour began, I squinted to locate my discarded cloak. Before I could even bend down to retrieve it, he had already picked it up.

"Allow me," he said, his voice gentle and courteous as he approached me.

With the grace of a true gentleman, he draped the cloak around my shoulders, his touch both tender and precise. The fabric enveloped me in a comforting embrace, and I nodded appreciatively as he deftly fastened the strings, securing it snugly against the chill of the rain.

As we began to walk toward the shelter of the castle, he glanced at me with a thoughtful expression.

"Perhaps we should have a maester check you out," he suggested casually, his tone light but laced with concern.

I turned to him, raising my brows in surprise. "A maester?"

He nodded, his gaze shifting to me with a hint of amusement. "I saw you take a few tumbles," he admitted, a small, bemused smile playing on his lips as he gently pulled a small leaf out of my hair.

I swallowed my embarrassment, a flush creeping up my cheeks. Before I could react, I reached up and smacked the leaf from his hand with a playful swat.

"How mortifying," I muttered, trying to mask my chagrin with a sheepish grin.

He chuckled softly, the sound a gentle remedy to the lingering tension between us.

"I assure you, there's no need to be embarrassed," he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. "In fact, this will make for a rather delightful story to share with our future children."

His words caught me off guard, and a deeper blush crept up my cheeks at the thought of such an intimate future. I quickly looked away, my gaze dropping to the rain-slicked stones beneath our feet. The steady patter of rain seemed to echo the rapid beat of my heart.

"Perhaps" I murmured the words barely audible.

"Could we possibly agree that this little escapade remains between us?" I asked, "I'd really appreciate it if this interaction wasn't mentioned to my mother or father."

He nodded, a knowing smile curling at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I believe it would be best not to announce your eagerness to escape me. Consider it a secret between us."

As we continued to walk towards the castle, the rain began to fall more heavily, but the shared laughter and understanding between us made the journey seem lighter.

In the years that followed, the tale of Prince Jacaerys and his wife would become a cherished legend, a story celebrated across generations.

Our tale became a beloved fairy tale, told and retold to children and adults alike.

It was a story of two genuine souls, intertwined in a narrative that captured the essence of love and destiny, our lives a testament to the magic of finding connection amidst the most unforeseen circumstances.

A/n - Yes this is inspired by that iconic scene of George and Charlotte in Queen Charlotte

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #team black #prince jacaerys #jace x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys strong

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tender-rosiey · 9 months

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“KEEP THE PRIEST! WEDDING NO.2 STARTS!”

— gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto & toji when you catch the bouquet at a wedding (f!reader)

a/n: if you don't have a cousin then now you do and thanks for being patient with me everyone! <3

GOJO SATORU:

a family member of yours was finally getting married—something you never thought would happen since she was always complaining about all her boyfriends, but hey at least someone finally did it.

anyway, naturally, you took your dear boyfriend as your date.

the wedding was going smoothly, drinks were exchanged, food was distributed, and cakes were eaten—much to your lover’s delight.

another thing that kept happening is people trying to introduce their daughters to satoru.

his instant response was to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you close to him, kissing your cheek and chirping a “sorry, but I am happily taken!”

now it was time for the part that a lot of people wait for: the bouquet throw.

your cousin was already crazy, so she has been waiting for it so she can throw the bouquet with all her might. on the other hand ,you and the other ladies were lined up and patiently waited.

one swing, two swings, one faint throw, and finally the bouquet was thrown into the air, heading towards its next owner.

a chorus of ‘its mine! mine!’ filled the room, but relentless, you maneuvered your way into finally catching the bouquet in your hands.

you’ve won the battle.

but wait. it seems like there is a contestant that won’t back down.

“let go of that bouquet, young lady!”

you look behind you and gasps, it is—“satoru?!”

“yes, satoru!” your boyfriend huffs, making his way towards you.

he firmly takes a stance in front of you, contrasting his intimidating position with his infamous pout, “it’s not fair for you to take the bouquet!”

you sway your hip to the side sassily, “does it make a difference? we’re getting married either way!”

your boyfriend shakes his head, “no, babe!” he places his hands on his chest, pushing his theatrics till the top, “I need to be the star!”

he crumbles to the floor and you merely stare at him in silence.

you see your cousin approach you and your boyfriend, “first of all, I am the star, and second, if you don’t stop fighting, I am taking the bouquet back.”

your boyfriend gasps clinging to your legs, “babe, your cousin is super mean!”

you pat his head with a sigh and he happily presses a kiss to your thigh. what a taxing man to be with.

“sweets, I wanna pee.”

taxing child.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

your boyfriend was—surprisingly—invited to a friend’s wedding, which he hated as he was planning on taking you to a stargazing sight because you’ve been talking about it ever since you saw it multiple times on tiktok.

so, here you are with your boyfriend put into a suit by force.

you’re pretty sure that he is going to rip it any moment, but you would rather he does that when you’re both alone: you don’t necessarily mind a show.

anyway, you are sat with your dear lover who hasn’t stopped frowning since you’ve entered the darn hall.

the only good social thing he has done so far is greeting the groom and the bride. other than that, his hand never left yours and he stuck by you.

it’s cute, though, even if he argues that he is anything but.

you hear them announce that they’re finally throwing the bouquet so you give sukuna a quick peck then run to reserve your space.

now, you get very competitive in certain things, and this is certainly one of them. you will be going home with that bouquet.

and true to your goal, the moment the bouquet is at a height you can reach, you jump at it, holding on for dear life.

your feet reach the ground once again, and you raise your hand in victory, “I did it!”

you don’t see sukuna rolling his eyes fondly and with a proud grin that screams ‘that’s my girl’.

after a bit of applause, you quickly turn to your boyfriend and walk towards his table, radiating with confidence.

you place the bouquet on the table then you lean on your elbows, “I caught the bouquet,” you wink, “what do you think?”

“of course, you would get it,” he hums, “you’re mine, and I don’t settle for less than the best.”

you roll your eyes and lean towards him, swirling the drink that you stole from him, “it’s quite the commitment that we’re getting into,” you then look and lock eyes with him, “think you can handle that?”

“there’s nothing I can’t handle, loser.”

you giggle before cooing, “aww, you love me so much,” he gently shoves you, before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you back towards him.

“I tolerate you.”

“so love!”

“no.”

NANAMI KENTO:

jingling bells, clicking heels, steaming food, and loving couples including you and your dear boyfriend fill today’s wedding hall.

a mutual friend of yours and nanami finally tied the knot with their lover, and you were happily invited.

it was a never ending party of laughter and happy tears—that you efficiently hid by burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest.

things calmed down a bit, leaving you to fangirl about how cute your friend is to nanami.

“but kento, she looked so cute! she is so pretty! he better not hurt her!”

nanami keeps munching on his bread, “I think she is capable of handling that herself.”

you cross your arms with a huff, “what do you mean?”

“she is carrying a shotgun.”

“oh, you right,” you acknowledge, before running towards the dance floor when you see your friend about to throw the bouquet, “f/n, you better not throw that until I tell you!”

“if you don’t get then you just have a major skill issue!”

you gasp, taking a battle stance in the middle of the of the dance floor. you hear your friend giggle, before she finally throws the bouquet into the air.

from then, it’s a cat fight between you and the rest of the people.

however, you come out as victorious then excitedly running towards nanami, “kento! kento! did you see me?”

“mhm, you looked lovely as always,” he chuckles, giving you his full attention.

you giggle, taking a seat beside him. you start talking about your fight(?) to get the bouquet while nanami stealthily takes a plate of your favourite snacks from the buffet and slides it to you.

you gasp, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, “thank you, love!”

he hums, eyeing the bouquet, “you know,” then he says, fidgeting with his watch a little, “I can get you a better bouquet if you want—with a side of a ring, of course.”

you were about to finally dig in, but your brain quickly short circuits at his comment, “oh.”

slowly, you turn to him, feeling your face get warmer by the second.

he laughs lightly, hand coming to rest on yours, “I am not joking,” he pulls your hand up for a small peck, “I am just waiting for the right time so please be patient with me.”

GETO SUGURU:

the moment the vows were exchanged, music was blasted to the roof, and everyone was partying to the max.

your cousin, the bride, is dancing to the beat with vigor and excitement you’ve never seen before.

you would like to join her, but geto just won’t let you since he knows that you will somehow end up drunk off your mind and dancing on one of the tables.

so you’re sat with him right now, sulking and glaring at him.

“babe, don’t be so sad now, please? I am only doing this so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself.”

you huff and turn your back on him, “I am a full-functioning adult; thank you very much!”

his hand slowly inches towards yours, “the prettiest full-functioning adult,” he smiles, pulling his chair closer to you. “and the smartest too, did you know that?”

you almost give into his advances—his charming smile is far too lethal—but you’ve developed a bit of immunity to his actions.

so instead, you face him with a teasing smile, “I would love if you tell me more—after I successfully steal the bouquet.”

“steal?”

you roll your eyes, “acquire.”

he laughs lightly, and you take it as your cue to run towards the group of women huddled behind your cousin.

you stand proudly, “c/n, throw your bouquet!”

“no!”

“what?!”

“just kidding!”

and so the bouquet flies and ‘accidentally’ lands in your hands—it’s no accident; you’ve been training your entire life for this moment.

people whoop and applaud, and you bow to audience, before scurrying to your darling boyfriend.

you wave the bouquet in your hand, and he nods knowingly, “guess you’re never get rid of me,” you muse, hugging the bouquet to your chest, “what a pity, right?”

he looks at you confused then sighs with a smile, “I never planned to, but okay.”

you beam at him and throw your arms around him, and he laughs, hugging you closer.

you trace shapes on his back and murmur, “you’re way too cute for your own good.”

“I need to charm you one way or another, you know,” he replies, motioning for the waiter to get you two more drinks.

he stays silent for a moment, “you can go get hammered—“

“not!”

“okay, not hammered with your cousin.”

“yay!” you scream joyously and run away.

guess who ended up drunk and dancing on a table.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

toji and a wedding?

it’s a combination most would not expect, but it isn’t his wedding anyway, so he can’t complain about it being too much commitment right now.

the only thing he can complain about is being put into this ‘suffocating’ suit—a sight you love.

“do we really have to stay till the end?”

you turn towards him, mortified, “this is literally your best friend’s wedding.”

he shrugs, “so?”

with a shake of your head, you drag him further down the hall to your assigned seats. at least, holding your hand is enough to pacify him.

the wedding goes as you would expect, aside from toji almost falling asleep.

you are now just standing beside the clearly expensive and delicious buffet—your true love.

toji is happily indulging in the food laid out in front of him, and you are about to do the same, but you notice that the bouquet throw is about to happen.

so you dash out of your seat just in time to catch that rogue bouquet. you raise your hand, announcing yourself as the now rightful owner of this bouquet.

that’s why you excitedly search for toji to show him your new prize.

you rush towards the table that you left your boyfriend at, “toji, I got it!—toji?”

a look left, a look right, your eyes widen. did the darn guy leave the moment you caught the bouquet? no way his fear of commitment is this intense.

you take note of the groom—toji’s bestie—shaking his head.

feeling embarrassed, you frown and yell for him, “toji fushiguro!”

suddenly, you feel a presence behind your back. you feel the person lean towards your ear a bit, and they whisper a small, “hey.”

you gasp, spinning to smack him square on the shoulder, “I hate you!”

he teases, almost like your hit was never there in the first place, “now now, that isn’t something you say to your future husband,” he grins and you scrunch your face in disgust.

you turn on your heel to walk away from him, “kill yourself.”

“what a foul mouth,” he whistles, following you until you finally give up and are given the chance to punch him in the stomach to make for the scare he gave you.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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trinkerichi · 3 months

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The Amazing Toybox Circus!

A storybook - Part 1

Once upon a time, there was a very old toy shop.

An unremarkable sort of place with very few visitors. The shelves were lined with antique curiosities which had collected dust over the years.

Among these, atop a colorful wooden toy chest, was a simple kaleidoscope. It was inscribed with a strange design of teeth and eyes, and a poem about a magical circus.

...

Now, one might imagine the type of person would walk into such a place. Perhaps someone who has worked far too hard. Someone who feels unsatisfied with the tedium of every day life, and who longs for an escape into the fantastical world of imagination that playthings can inspire. This sort of person might look through a kaleidoscope and dream, just for a moment, of a new life filled with bright color, of fun and adventure.

This was the sort of person who suddenly woke up on the floor, surrounded by darkness and extremely confused.

Feeling dizzy and thoughts hazy, she righted herself and began to wander. A soft jingling noise followed her with every step, though she paid it no mind. There were more pressing issues at the moment.

She strained her mind trying to remember how she could have possibly ended up here. She clearly remembered entering a toy shop, but her thoughts beyond this were blank besides a vivid image of swirling colors. Red and blue spirals. All she knew at the moment was that she felt terribly afraid, and very very small.

Timidly, she called out-

"HELLO, MY NEWEST SUPERSTAR!"

An enormous wooden ventriloquist dummy suddenly burst from the shadows. His painted eyes gleamed, one blue, one green. His wooden teeth chattered as he loomed overhead. He pulled a white balloon on a string, which sported an equally large toothy grin.

The sight was positively terrifying.

"Welcome to the amazing toybox circus!"

"The ... the toybox what?" She squeaked in response.

"Why, the toybox circus of course! You're sure to have a grand time, my dear! " She was suddenly lifted up to meet his unsettling wooden gaze.

"My name is Caine! I'm your ringmaster," he continued at an unnecessarily loud volume.

"My dear, you've entered a wonderful world of whimsy and adventure, where anything can happen! Soon you'll meet your new friends and we shall put on a show!"

He spun her around before setting her down on the floor again.

The girl was speechless. Be part of a circus? Led by a talking puppet? Surely this was all a strange dream!

"I'm sorry, sir," she eventually said, somehow managing to speak politely considering the circumstances. "But I really must be getting home! If you'd kindly show me the way-"

"Oh but you simply must stay for the performance, my dear! I've prepared all sorts of activities that are sure to delight! Oh the audience will love you! You shall be the star attraction!"

The puppet was very insistent. At a loss, the girl considered her options were either to continue wandering the darkness or to trust this "ringmaster". Now she was an intelligent young lady, but she was also a curious sort. After all, curiosity was what brought her here in the first place, and curiosity compelled her to see what would happen next...

So despite better judgement, she finally said -

Hesitant but hopeful. Perhaps this would be interesting? At the very least, she could play along until finding a way out of this strange place, out of the toyshop and back home. Or until she woke up, as this was likely a dream after all.

"At any rate, this may be fun," she hoped out loud.

Something cackled from atop a large shelf. The silhouette was that of a rabbit, but with a wide yellow grin.

"Heh HEH! You'll soon see, little clown," he said, before hopping out of sight.

What an odd place this was...

----part 2 coming soon!

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #pomni #caine #jax #tadc au #toybox circus #my art #theres a lot of Alice in wonderland here

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slu7formen · 6 months

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MDNI. luke x fem!reader

you and Luke end up stuck in the same motel room on a mission, but as he tries his best to stay as far away from you as possible, he ends up with you sitting on his lap and moaning his name.

warnings: enemies to lovers (?, reader’s godly parent is not mentioned, CLASSIC share-the-same-bed prompt, cussing, clothed s3x, pet names, teasing, kinda virgin!luke, dom!luke for a sec, luke sees reader in her underwear

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The groan of the rusty –stolen– car door echoed in the woods like a death knell. You slammed it shut with a wince, the throbbing ache in your shoulder protesting the movement as you placed your bag on it. The vehicle now lay crumpled against a giant redwood, a testament to the gigantic beast you'd just barely managed to outrun before Percy took take of it with Anaklusmos.

And him, ever the optimist, managed a weak attempt at sarcasm. "Well, that went great, don´t you think?" he muttered to you, his voice laced with exhaustion. A fresh cut adorned his cheek, a reminder of his near-death experience, from their recent encounter.

Luke, face dirty and torso sweaty, slammed the trunk shut with a finality that mirrored the exhaustion etched on his face. Dirt smudged his usually perfect features, and sweat plastered his black hair to his forehead, a sight that would have sent shivers down the spine of any other girl at camp. On you, however, it just fueled the simmering fire inside you that made you want to punch his face.

He slung his worn backpack over one shoulder, the weight of responsibility and fatigue pulling him down.

"Remind me not to let you drive again. Ever." he said to you, his voice laced with a mocking lilt.

You rolled your eyes, the familiar irritation sparking within you. "Oh, give me a break" you spat back, hands on your hips. "I'm the only one with a license here, genius."

"Is your license useful when it comes to a stolen car, genius?" he replied, voice lowering to match his mockery and a punchable smirk playing on his lips. He really knew how to push your buttons, even when you were both staring down the barrel of another night on the run, another night without a decent meal or a good night's sleep.

"At least I can drive" you countered, ignoring the prickle of annoyance that ran down your spine. "Besides, who else would have gotten us this far? You?" You gestured towards the flickering neon sign of a ramshackle motel in the distance, a beacon of hope in the gathering darkness.

"Enough" Annabeth said, her voice firm despite the tiredness in her tone. "You two can fight later, but right now, we need to find somewhere to stay. I am not spending another night sleeping on a tree"

With a determined stomp, she marched towards the side of the road. You and Luke both took a step forward at the same time, then stopped, locked in a silent battle of who would yield. You mockingly straightened your arm towards Annabeth's path. "Ladies first" you said to him.

He squinted his eyes playfully as he walked past you. “Very mature” he muttered.

The flickering neon sign cut through the twilight like a neon lifeline as you walked. ‘The Sun n' Sands Motel’ proclaimed in faded glory, the letters crooked and the sun sporting a single, sad-looking ray. It wasn't the exactly luxury, but after days on the run, a crumpled car, and a near-death encounter with a creature straight out of your worst nightmares, this place looked like a five-star resort.

"Finally" you sighed, relief washing over you in waves. You could practically smell the promise of clean sheets and a bed that didn't groan ominously with every movement. And a shower. Gods, you craved that.

Pushing open the glass door, you were greeted with a musty scent that hung in the air like a forgotten memory. The lobby was small and poorly decorated, the faded floral wallpaper clashing horrendously with the worn brown carpeting. Behind a chipped counter sat a woman whose age defied easy categorization. Her hair, the color of tarnished silver, was pulled back in a tight bun, emphasizing the deep lines etched around her eyes. She sat engrossed in a beauty magazine, oblivious to the four weary demigods who had just entered.

With a sigh that condensed the exhaustion of your entire journey, you approached the counter. Slamming a wad of crumpled bills onto the counter, you declared, "Rooms for four, please."

Percy shuffled behind you, his eyes flitting around the room with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Annabeth scanned the lobby for any signs of potential danger, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her dagger.

The woman finally looked up, her gaze lingering on you for too long before flickering to the rest of your group. A slow smile played on her lips, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "One room, two beds?" she drawled, her voice thick with a southern twang that seemed to grate on your already frayed nerves.

"Two rooms" you corrected, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. Sharing a room with Luke Castellan, a roof, again, even in this desolate outpost, was an idea so abhorrent you couldn't entertain it for a second.

As if sensing your objection, the woman tapped away at a dusty computer terminal. A smirk played on her lips. "Couple's getaway, huh?" she asked, her eyes darting from Luke, back to you.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a surprised and disgusted look. "What?" you demanded, your irritation bubbling over.

But before you could react, you felt Luke´s heavy arm slunging casually around your shoulder, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Looks like we're gonna have to get a little bit cozy, don't you think, baby?" he drawled playfully.

You gritted your teeth, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from exploding. You knew perfectly well he was just trying to get under your skin, and the worst part was, it was working. The thought of sharing a room with him was bad enough, but the idea of him calling you "baby" sent shivers down your spine – not of pleasure, but of pure, unadulterated annoyance.

Faking a sickly sweet smile, you leaned in and delivered a sharp elbow jab directly to his stomach. He doubled over with a groan, clutching his center for a moment. "Call me 'baby' again," you hissed, your voice low and dangerous, "and I'll punch way lower than that."

“Got it, muscles” he wheezed.

The receptionist, clearly enjoying the spectacle, leaned back in her chair and tapped away at the computer again. "Right now, we have one room with a double bed, and another one with two single beds" she explained.

You glanced back at Annabeth, a silent question hanging in the air. She nodded in understanding. Two single beds might not be ideal, but it was infinitely preferable to sharing a room with Luke.

"We'll take them" you declared.

The woman expertly counted the money, her lips pursed in concentration. "Rooms thirteen and fifteen." she announced, handing you two keys. "No smoking inside, and do not break anything, or you'll be charged double" the lady continued, her voice laced with a warning that was clearly aimed at you and Luke.

As you all four walked towards the stairs, you tossed the key to room fifteen at Luke. He snatched it reflexively in the air, a hint of confussion in his face. “Boys, you´ll share a room” you declare.

Luke scoffed behind your back. "What are we? Eleven?" he asked.

"It was a nightmare to drive a car with you in it" you retorted, "can't imagine what it would be like to share a room."

Later, after some questionable inspectioning around the room and re-organizing your bag for when you leave tomorrow morning, you finally had a little time to yourself.

The cool water splashed against your face, washing away the grime and exhaustion of the day. You glanced over at Annabeth, who was meticulously placing her most important things on the floor to clean and organize her bag; her dagger, her cap, a rope, a squished water bottle, and a few maps. Despite the cramped confines of the motel room, a sense of peace settled over you. Even with Luke's irritating presence hanging over your head, it was a welcome change from the constant fear and adrenaline that had fueled your journey.

A sharp rapping on the door snapped you out of your reverie. "Coming!" Annabeth called out. She opened the door just a crack as you peeked your head out of the tiny bathroom door. You were greeted by the sight of a very smug-looking Percy. His cheeks were puffed out, and he was clutching a brown paper bag that seemed precariously close to bursting.

"Uh, hey" he mumbled, his voice muffled through a mouthful of something chocolatey. "I raided the vending machine downstairs” he simply explained.

Annabeth turned towards you. “Dinner?” she asked.

The offer of a snack, however meager, was enough to send your stomach grumbling in protest. The idea of a proper meal sounded heavinly, the food from camp, the meat, the mashed potatoes. Gods, you really wanted to be back. But right now, even the greasiest bag of chips could be enough for you.

Percy shoved his way past Annabeth and into the room. He disgorged his loot onto the small bedside table that sat between your beds. Annabeth, with her usual organizational skills, started to create a semblance of order from the chaotic pile of snacks.

Across the room, you noticed Luke still leaning against the doorway. He had shed his usual polished exterior for a pair of worn sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, a sight that momentarily threw you off balance. He took you in with a lazy glance, his eyes lingering on your tired face and messy hair. "Looking good" he called, a smirk playing on his lips.

One of your eyes twitched in irritation. Grabbing the wet towel you'd been using, you flung it at him with a growl. He managed to snag it out of the air just before it connected with his face.

"Hilarious" he remarked.

Annabeth jumped in before the playful hostility could escalate further. "How about a movie?" she suggested, her voice laced with a hint of forced cheer.

The idea wasn't exactly appealing, but the prospect of some semblance of downtime outweighed the absurdity of watching television in a dingy motel room. You and Luke exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between you. You didn't know how much peace you could get in the middle of a mission, or for how long, but the idea of just sitting down and eating calmly while watching a movie was undeniably tempting. Even with the dubious snacks and the cramped quarters, it felt like a small oasis in the storm of your current situation.

The movie selection on the ancient TV was limited, to say the least. After a series of disgruntled grumbles and channel surfing, they settled on a cheesy romance movie with a plot that could have been predicted by a hyperactive squirrel. The acting was atrocious, the dialogue predictable, and the special effects looked like they were created by a bored teenager with basic editing software. Yet, despite the movie's inherent ridiculousness, a strange sense of camaraderie filled the room. Laughter, albeit tinged with exhaustion, erupted at the predictable plot twists and overly dramatic dialogue.

As the minutes ticked by, Percy and Annabeth succumbed to the fatigue of the day. Annabeth curled up by your side on her bed, but her eyelids eventually fluttered shut and her head lolled back against your shoulder. Percy managed to stay up for a little longer with Luke, but his snorting could easily be heard just ten minutes after.

Silence stretched between you and Luke, punctuated only by the rhythmic snores of Percy and the occasional sigh from Annabeth in her sleep. You glanced over at your friend, her head resting peacefully against your shoulder. Despite the discomfort of the shared bed and the dubious snacks, a sliver of normalcy felt oddly comforting.

Across from you, Luke mirrored your posture, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed. His gaze was fixed on the flickering television screen, but you knew his attention wasn't on the atrocious movie. He was lost in thought, a furrow etched between his brows.

There was tension in the air, a constant undercurrent simmering between you two. You didn't like each other, that much was certain. He was arrogant, self-serving, and his loyalty always seemed to have a price tag attached. Yet, a grudging respect had grown between you over the years. You both understood the weight of your responsibilities, the burden of protecting those younger, more innocent.

He cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Hey, Per—" he began, his voice a low murmur.

“Hey” you called. Luke´s head snapped towards your direction. "He's been out for more than half an hour" you interjected softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't wake him up."

Luke's head tilted to the side. Confusion flickered across his brown eyes before settling on a scowl. "What?" he hissed, barely louder than a whisper.

"Think about it" you countered, your voice a low murmur that wouldn't disturb the sleeping teens. "Percy's been snoring like a miniature thunderstorm for at least ten minutes. Annabeth wouldn't wake up even if a centaur stepped next to her right now. Waking them up would just cause a monster of a different kind."

You knew Luke understood. You weren't just talking about Percy's physical exhaustion. You were both keenly aware of the burden these young demigods carried. They craved normalcy as much as anyone, and these stolen moments of peaceful sleep, however fleeting, were a precious commodity. Watching them, so vulnerable and carefree in their slumber, filled you with a fierce protectiveness. The last thing you wanted to do was disrupt that.

Luke didn't reply, but his gaze mirrored your sentiments. A flicker of something akin to respect softened the harsh lines of his face. You weren't friends, not by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, you shared a common enemy and a common purpose – to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

The silence stretched for a momento before he cleared his throat again, the sound sharp in the cramped room. "So," he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of resignation, "what do we do then?"

You sighed, frustration creeping into your voice. "Guess we're stuck sharing a room after all" you muttered, throwing your hands up in defeat. The idea was far from appealing.

Luke's face contorted in horror. He let out a theatrical whine that would rival any crying toddler. "Oh come on" he whined, stretching the word into several syllables. "Sharing a room with you? Talk about cruelty and punishment."

“Oh, just shut up” you whispered-yelled at him. “Trust me, I don´t wanna sleep next to you either. I´ll build up a wall of pillows before you can even start snoring”

There was a certain absurdity to the situation, being forced to share a room with your least favorite person. But beneath the surface, you both acknowledged the unspoken truth – the safety and well-being of Percy and Annabeth took precedence over any personal discomfort.

You both rose from your beds, a tense air crackling around you. Picking up your backpack, you hoisted it over your shoulder with a sigh. "Alright" you declared, marching towards the door. "Let's get this over with."

Luke followed, his movements mirroring yours. The walk down the cramped hallway was filled with an tension. Neither of you dared to speak. Reaching his door, Luke fumbled for the key, his irritation evident in his clumsiness. Finally, with a click, the door swung open, revealing a room identical to yours – basic, cramped, and thoroughly unappealing.

Stepping inside, you couldn't help but let out a groan. A single, double bed dominated the room, leaving absolutely no room for separate sleeping arrangements. God, why did Percy have to fall asleep? Why didn´t you and Annabeth pick this room earlier? Everything was going the wrong way for you. You exchanged a look with Luke, the message clear in your burning eyes.

"Snort or drool" Luke began, his voice a low growl as he pointed a finger at you "and I swear I'll throw you out the window"

"Hm, how charming" you replied sarcastically, stepping past him and into the room.

The bed loomed before you, a battleground for an uncomfortable night's sleep. With a sigh, you dropped your backpack onto the nearest chair. Luke began building a formidable fortress of pillows in the center of the bed. You rolled your eyes at the sight. This was so ridiculous.

A glance at your watch confirmed your suspicions. It was not too late to hop on quick shower. Percy and Luke walked down to the vending machine so quickly earlier that you didn´t even have time to wash yourself before they came to your room with the so called dinner. Your clothes clung to you uncomfortably, the grime of the day begging to be washed away. You looked for a clean shirt you were sure you packed before leaving camp days ago. The possibilites of a shower were low in missions like these, but you never knew.

Leaving your backpack open on the chair, you made your way to the bathroom door, silently pushing it open. Luke watched your movements for a fleeting moment, but quickly went back to his pillow fortification once your figure disappeared inside the small bathroom. He didn't think much of it at first. You were just getting ready for the night, whatever your methods.

Inside the bathroom, you began stripping off your clothes, the cool air a welcome sensation against your heated skin. In your state of exhaustion, you neglected to fully close the bathroom door. A foolish mistake, perhaps, but in your defense, the room was tiny and the it wouldn't be winning any awards for spaciousness. Right now, all you craved was a chance to scrub away the road dust and find a clean shirt for the —uncomfortable— night ahead.

A few seconds later, a muffled curse broke the silence on Luke´s side. Luke, realizing he'd left his toothbrush in the bathroom, stopped himself from the pillows task and approached the bathroom door. He was expecting it to be shut. A polite knock, a request for his forgotten toothbrush – that was the plan. But as he drew closer, his steps faltered. The door wasn't shut.

“Seriously!?”

There you stood, completely devoid of clothes except for your underwear, taking off your camp´s necklace and your earrings. The warm glow from the bathroom light accentuated the smooth lines of your shoulders and the curve of your back. Time seemed to freeze for a beat. Luke's breath hitched in his throat.

You whirled around, startled. A small laugh escaped your lips as you saw Luke's flustered expression. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, and his brown eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Didn't think you'd be so shy, Luke" It was a playful jab, a way to lighten the sudden tension that had filled the small space.

Luke sputtered, his voice barely even a regular tone. "Shy? I'm not-, I mean-…” he kept cutting himself off. “This-, don´t you know what privacy is!?"

His indignation was adorable, you couldn't help but think to yourself. You'd never seen him so flustered, so utterly out of sorts. A mischievous glint sparked in your eyes.

"Oh, come on" you countered, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Don't tell me you've never seen a girl in this state before."

The question just didn´t have an asnwer. Luke's mouth clamped shut. His eyes widened for a moment, then darted back down to the floor, avoiding your gaze. There was a flicker of something in his eyes – a memory, perhaps, or a realization – but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward. You realized you had hit a nerve, a part of Luke you hadn't expected to expose, not in front of you. A pang of unexpected curiosity pricked at your insides. Just what kind of experiences had this arrogant, self-assured perfect golden boy had?

You opened your mouth to speak, to maybe apologize for your teasing, but Luke beat you to it.

"Just shower and get dressed, okay?" he mumbled, his voice tight with suppressed frustration. "I want to sleep."

He didn't wait for a reply, simply turning on his heel and retreating back to his pillow fort. You watched him go, a smile playing on your lips. The encounter had been unexpected, to say the least, but it had definitely shaken things up.

A low chuckle escaped your lips. "You'll wait for me?" you called out playfully, knowing full well he wouldn't answer.

"Shut up!" came his muffled reply from behind the pillows.

The silence in the cramped room was thick enough to spread. You emerged from the bathroom, a clean shirt clinging to your damp form and a towel wrapped around your head like a makeshift turban. You caught sight of Luke burrowed deep beneath the barricade of pillows, a picture of forced nonchalance. His eyes were resolutely fixed on the ceiling, but you could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

A mischievous glint flickered in your eyes. He might have gotten away with a verbal escape route earlier, but you weren't done yet. "Well, aren't you going to say something?" you queried, amusement dancing in your voice. "Speechless, Castellan? That's a first."

Luke remained stubbornly silent, his jaw clenched tight. He could feel the blush creeping back up his neck, a burning reminder of his moment of weakness. How was he supposed to act normal after seeing...well, after seeing more of you than he ever bargained for? The image of your smooth skin and the graceful curve of your back was burned into his memory, a stark contrast to the sarcastic warrior he knew.

You flopped down onto the bed, the makeshift wall of pillows separating you from Luke. You turned off the bedside lamp in silence before removing the towel off your hair, gently brushing it. The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft rustle of your brush. Just as you thought Luke had successfully retreated into a silent sulk, his voice broke through the tension.

"Look" he muttered, whispering "it was an accident. Just forget it, alright?"

You couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, come on" you teased, leaning back against the pillows. "Didn’t expect that seeing a little skin was such a big deal for someone like you."

Luke shot you a glare, but it lacked its usual bite. Someone like him? What the hell did you mean by that? Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe it was the way the dim light had cast your figure in a different light, one he hadn't noticed before. Whatever it was, it had thrown him completely off balance.

A sudden, and quite unwelcome, thought struck him. Just what kind of experiences had you had? He knew you weren't naive, or dumb. But the thought of you with someone else… the possessiveness that flared up within him surprised him. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, but a strange sense he couldn't quite explain.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing on calming his racing heart. He needed sleep, not a philosophical debate about his feelings for his least favorite demigod. Just as he was about to drift off, your voice sliced through the silence, sharper than any blade.

"Are you a virgin, Luke?"

The question hung in the air, a verbal bombshell that shattered the fragile peace. Luke's eyes snapped open, wide with disbelief. Gods, you were bold. He stared at you in the dark, lifiting his head up just enough to peak from the pillows in between your boides, his mind struggling to process your words.

"What?" he finally managed, his voice husky with disbelief.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks, a stark contrast to the playful glint in your eyes. "You heard me" you countered.

Luke felt a surge of annoyance mixed with a strange vulnerability. He wasn't used to being caught off guard, especially not by you. He opened his mouth to retort, to deflect the question with his usual sarcastic wit, but the words wouldn't come.

His gaze drifted towards the wall, a silent battle raging within him. Should he answer your question honestly? The thought of revealing such a personal detail to you, his nemesis, was unappealing. But then again, a small part of him, the part he kept hidden away, craved a different kind of connection with you.

He took a deep breath, the decision made. "Does it matter?" he finally replied, his voice a low murmur.

You turned on your side, facing him across the wall of pillows, getting rid of some of them, dropping them to the carpeted floor. The moonlight filtering through the window cast an ethereal glow on your face, making your eyes seem to sparkle with mischief.

"Maybe it does" you said, your voice soft and laced with an undercurrent of something else - intrigue? Even in the darkness, you could see the way your words affected him, the way his dark eyes seemed to flicker with a mixture of emotions.

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, you cut him off with a laugh that seemed tinged with nervousness.

"Forget it" you said, shaking your head slightly. "Just... hormonal thoughts." The explanation felt flimsy, even to your own ears. This wasn't just idle curiosity; it was something deeper, something you couldn't quite explain yet.

Luke remained silent for a moment, your sudden change in direction throwing him off. Part of him was relieved you weren't pressing the issue, but another part, the part he usually kept suppressed, felt a flicker of disappointment. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't found your boldness, your honesty, even your sudden vulnerability, strangely appealing.

"Hormonal thoughts, huh?" he finally echoed, his voice husky. "Does that mean you wanna have sex with me?" He dared to voice the possibility that you might be attracted to him. He must´ve been out of his mind.

The thought was simply impossible. Yet, the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight, the way you'd turned towards him, discarding some of the pillows as if to bridge the gap…

"No!" you blurted out, as if reading his mind. The defensiveness in your voice surprised you both. "It's not that at all. It's just... I don't know." Frustration laced your words. This whole conversation was turning into a confusing mess. “Just… how far have you reached with a girl?”

Luke stared at you, dumbfounded. This night had taken a turn he hadn't anticipated. Why were you even talking about this? Why were you asking these questions? Why, despite the initial irritation, was he finding himself answering?

Heaving a sigh, he sat up against the headboard, exhaustion finally catching up to him. "Not too far, actually" he mumbled, the words laced with a weariness that surprised him. The words felt strange coming out of his mouth, a confession he wouldn't have made to anyone else. He hadn't meant to dwell on past experiences, especially not with you. He hadn't realized how much he'd carried on his shoulders, the weight of overlooked desires he never truly got to satisfy. Suddenly, the frustration in your voice clicked into place. Was that why you'd asked? Was it because you felt the same way, burdened by an unfulfilled yearning?

But as you shifted in your bed, suddenly sitting up on your knees, he couldn't help but notice the way your silhouette was illuminated by the moonlight. And then he saw it — the lack of shorts beneath your t-shirt, a detail he'd managed to conveniently overlook in the heat of the moment, which didn´t make sense at all.

"What are you—?" he began, the question dying on his lips as you moved closer. You began to dismantle the remaining wall of pillows, clearing the way between you.

His heart hammered against his ribs as you sat down on his lap, one leg on each side of him. You were close, closer than you'd ever been before. A mix of confusion and arousal that left him speechless. You stared at him, your eyes reflecting the soft moonlight, as your hands reached for his.

"Have you ever done this?" you asked, your voice gentle, devoid of the usual sarcasm you wielded like a weapon. You weren't mocking him, weren't trying to pry. This was a genuine question, a moment of surprising intimacy that neither of you could have predicted.

Luke stared at you, his mind reeling. His hands, usually quick and confident, felt heavy and clumsy under your touch. You guided them to hold steady of your thighs, even though you were not moving, not yet.

Luke had never been more confused in his life. His mind raced, searching for a coherent response, an appropriate action. Was this a trap? A test? 'What the hell?' his mind raced.

But as he looked into your eyes, searching for an explanation, all he saw was a reflection of his own thunderstorm. You were just as confused as he was, caught in a moment of unexpected intimacy.

Neither of you knew what to say, what to do next. This wasn't part of the plan. You were supposed to be enemies, rivals forced to share a cramped motel room.

You know, the classic shit.

But this wasn’t it. This was something strange that even though he hated to admit it, he didn’t want it to end yet.

So he trailed his hands higher. Higher, higher, higher. Then placed his hands on your hips. He was breathless, and a sudden feeling of dumbness filled his insides as he stared at you, reading you like a book; you were waiting. And he had no idea what to do.

But you surely did. A slight sway of your hips was all he needed to breath out the amount of air his chest was holding. Then another one, and another; each movement pressed deliciously against his cock, already hardened.

He let out a deep groan, teeth tightening and head falling back slightly.

You placed your hands around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, almost chest to chest. Your hips kept rolling over him. If this felt good to him, it must’ve feel like heaven to you, due to your lack of lower clothes.

“You’re big, Luke” you whispered, a tiny smirk smudged along your lips. There it was. You again.

He thanked the darkness for hiding his red cheeks, but his state was not going to make him vulnerable again. He gripped your hips tighter, pulling at the top of your ass towards him over and over. “Fuck, just shut up for five minutes” he breathed out.

You didn’t answer. Your mouth hang open over his own. Your lips were dangerously close to touching, to kissing. But it was not gonna happen. As your hips rolled at a fast pace his breath tangled with yours, his moans, his groans, everything was swallowed by your own sounds.

He should feel embarrassed of behaving like this, not only because it is you but because he’s supposed to be in the middle of a mission. But come on, he knew this would happen soon or later.

All those years in which he secretly saved his feeling for himself. He had to hide the fact that whenever he touched your skin, whenever he felt your warm body against his hands, even the slightest and most teasing touch, a bolt of lighting went from the tip of his toes to his head.

He felt drunk in you in just a second and what, because he accidentally saw you almost naked?

He had to thank the gods for his luck.

“Oh, Luke” you moaned, head tilting back as you squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, he liked that.

He audibly chucked, laughed at you. “Who would’ve known?” he asked. “Who would’ve known you’d be so dirty, baby?”

Your eyes sparkled with fire, piercing Luke’s insides as the scar on his face twitched like every time he smiled. Despite the look on your face, your hips kept rolling over his; you couldn’t stop. It felt too good, too hot, too wet, even under Luke’s sweatpants.

“Don’t call me baby” you managed to blurt out, but the sound coming out of your mouth just made the whole sentence something pornographic. Luke didn’t complain.

You removed your hands from his neck. He was convinced you were gonna climb off of him and he would have to apologize repeatedly so he could finally get to cum with you on top of him; but instead, your hands travelled down his torso, and hid under his white shirt, pressing your palms onto his abs, pushing your own body harder against his.

“What should I call you then?” he whispered against your mouth, hands gripping impossibly tighter, finally gripping to your asscheeks. He had to hide a groan from the very back of his throat. “Bunny? ‘Cause you can’t deny you wanna hop on my cock?”

Now that was new.

If you were shocked, your face wouldn’t show it, but your body surely did. Your movements became sloppy, tired, and your chest moved up and down faster than ever. Luke rolled his own hips into yours, moaning uncontrollably at the feeling of his cock being constantly rubbed under your clothes pussy, and at the sight of the small wet patch you had on your underwear.

“Luke. I wanna cum” you moaned out. He liked that you didn’t warn you were going to, but you wanted to. As if you were asking for his permission.

“You won’t get off me until I cum, get it?”

He was a possessed man all of a sudden. His groans, growing deeper with every movement, his hands holding onto you for dear life and his breath twirling with yours as if you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive.

The tight feeling on your belly snapped as fast as you started to feel it. Yet you were obedient, so you kept moving.

The overstimulation was too much already, but when was gonna be the last time you would get to almost fuck Luke Castellan? Probably this time, you wouldn’t want to screw it up.

In fact, you wanted to do so much more. To suck his dick, to gag on it. To let him play with your body as much as he pleased and craved for. To let him take you anywhere and anytime he liked.

It didn’t take Luke long enough to hit his climax too, thankfully. His hips twitched against yours repeatedly as he placed his forehead on your chest. His breath was heavy as if he had run a million miles, his forehead sweaty.

Your hand reached his curls, smoothly running them down the back of his neck as if you were comforting him from the worst experience he had ever had. Little did you know this was his best so far.

“Do we-,” he cut himself off to swallow thickly. He didn’t realize how dry his throat was until he tried to speak. “Do we get to share rooms again?”

“What do you think?”

part two <3

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo smut #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

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draconic-desire · 5 months

Text

💥 Take My Whiskey Neat 💥

Yandere Boothill x Reader

Again and again, you find a way to escape, and every time ends with you peering down the barrel of a gun.

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, forced relationship and captivity, implied kidnapping, some suggestive content but mostly sfw. Mild spoilers for his background story; I want to write him both as a super attentive and protective guy but also crazy for you???

You’ve become all too familiar with the sensation of a gun being pointed to your forehead.

“Aw, darlin’, why the long face? Took me two whole days to find ya this round! You should be proud’a yerself. I dare say our time together has taught you well,” he concludes with a wink.

Somehow, his praise feels more like a taunt.

That’s because it is. Obviously you never had a chance at escaping from him, a Galaxy Ranger with a bounty on his head worth more than your life a hundred times over. He was born and raised to hunt, to track, to kill. You’re just the unlucky target.

He leans the gun ever so slightly closer to you, mere inches before it can graze your skin, and waits for your response. Although you know he won’t pull the trigger, the sight of the 9 millimeter colt aimed directly between your eyes still sends goose flesh skittering down your arms.

You grit your teeth and pin him with a withering glare. The last thing you’ll relinquish is your pride—you’re not intimidated by him, and it is impressive that you evaded him for so long, relatively speaking. Your other escape attempts lasted mere hours.

Unfortunately, the fact that the Ranger has always traveled alone doesn’t help your chances—especially when lately, his only occupation has been you.

“What, no clap back today? No, ‘fudge you, ya son of a nice lady’ or ‘fork you, shirtbaggin’ bootlicker’? I’ve gotten so used to yer colorful language that I’m almost disappointed!” Boothill tilts the gun and juts his hips, his bullseye gaze locked on your own.

Ignoring the subtle look of longing, of hurt, within their depths is getting harder and harder. He’s superb at hiding it behind jokes and attempted curses, but you know that look. He’s clinging to you after all that’s been taken from him, seeking love after it was destroyed in flames. If only he still held onto his human emotions and didn’t rely on that neuro chip of his; then he’d know that what he’s showing you isn’t love, but obsession.

You wish you had never extended your kindness to him that fateful day, when he’d burst into your home, sparks flying and wires exposed. One of his arms was barely attached, completely torn through with bullet holes. A shootout, he’d said, and he’d caught wind of a handy ‘machine doctor’—a mechanic, you’d corrected him—in town who could fix him right up.

It had taken a full two weeks for you to get him back up and running functionally. Two weeks of evading IPC grunts knocking on your door in search of him, two weeks of tolerating (and fine, maybe even enjoying) his crude jokes, and two weeks of stories over a glass of whiskey, about your hope to one day travel among the stars and his of finding a companion to do so with.

That’s when he’d seemed the most human. Voice tinged with sorrow, yes, but lips curved into a morose smile, eyes looking up at the stars. Reminiscing about when he was still fully human, nothing but a cowboy on a seemingly insignificant planet, surrounded by his adopted parents and siblings, and even that little girl whom he never got to see grow up.

After he’d shared his story, you’d felt the sudden urge to be close to him. Without thinking, you’d brought your hand up to his cheek, wiping an invisible tear despite the fact that he lost his tear ducts long ago.

He’d sucked in a breath and gone deadly still; thinking you misjudged the situation and overstepped a boundary, you’d quickly started to jerk your hand back, only for him to lock it firmly against his face with his metal palm.

His voice, normally loud and clear through the synthesized distortion, had been quiet, low, wavering. “I—please, don’t stop. That feels…nice.”

You were sad to see him go after those two weeks. You honestly expected to never see him again—he was a Galaxy Ranger, after all, the definition of a lone wolf—but to your surprise, his visits didn’t end there. He kept returning again and again, and not just for repairs. Sometimes he’d bring you gifts or tell you stories of his hunt, and you’d cherish those moments when the galaxy felt just a bit less lonely with him.

Then the visits started to increase in their frequency—and intensity. He’d show up while you were working with a client and brazenly threaten them to leave so he could occupy your time instead, or he’d appear on your doorstep in the middle of the night with your favorite bottle of liquor, winking at the sight of your embarrassed form, still in your nightclothes. Your world suddenly seemed to revolve around the gunslinging cyborg.

You’d had to put your foot down—as much as you did enjoy his company, you wouldn’t allow him to interfere with your career. You’d worked hard to gain your skills, and even though you were barely scraping by and living in a tiny, modest home by yourself, you were still proud of what you’d achieved on your own.

His initial reaction was an uncharacteristic and frightening bout of silence, his pupils blown wide, locked onto yours. Just as quickly, his typical smirk returned as he laughed it off. “Just watch out, lil cutie, ‘cause I know you’ll be missin’ me soon.”

Apparently, soon was imminent, immediate. You were pouring yourself a drink after a long week of work when he finally kicked down your door and announced you’d be coming with him.

“I’ve been waiting a long while now to claim you, darlin’.”

“And if I refuse?”

That was the first time you witnessed his gun trained on you.

Now, Boothill drags you along everywhere, hopping from one planet or system to the next, living together as nomads. What you believed to be a serendipitous friendship, he thought was the start of your romance and life together.

It would be thrilling in any other circumstance, treading the path of The Hunt, evading the law, tracking down the IPC members who destroyed his family…except the cyborg transferred that need to protect, to save someone, onto you. You have no choice but to be his now, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you go.

“You just want to hear me curse because you can’t,” you growl. What a stupid argument to be having with a pistol to your head. Yet you can’t help but siphon all of your anger into this dumb little game of cat and mouse, of shark and minnow, of hunter and bird.

He forgets you’re not the only one armed.

You flash him the most vulgar gesture you can make. “Go fuck yourself, Boothill.”

The cowboy throws his head back in a laugh. “Haha! There she is. Wild as a newborn colt.” He grins, flashing those shark teeth you’d groan to loathe. You’ve lost count of the number of puncture marks and scars they’ve littered across your flesh.

That’s something he can’t seem to get enough of—the feel of your warm, organic, human skin against his cold, steel shell.

“Lan shoot me with an arrow, do you ever shut the fuck up?” you grumble, looking up as if the Aeon will give you an answer.

“Think ya already know the answer to that,” he replies, lowering his weapon to sling his opposite arm around your shoulders. The gun hangs languidly from his other hand, as if he’s not the deadliest shot in the galaxy.

His breath brushes your neck as he leans in and nips at your ear. “Now, how ‘bout we take this back home, eh cutie? Two days without you has got me pretty…” His voice drops an octave. “…pent up, if ya know what I mean.”

The tooth marks along your skin flare. Oh, you know all too well.

~*~

Trying to find the solution to your imprisonment at the bottom of a bottle seems like a really clever idea, at least until the room starts spinning.

The empty glass cracks against the wooden table again as brown liquor burns down your throat. What did he call it? Rocket fuel? Damn right, and you’d lost count of the number of shots you’d taken.

Boothill’s normal smirk is contorted into a small frown. “Darlin’, I know it’s been a long couple’a days away for you, but I think we should retire the whiskey for the time being—”

“Shyut up!” you slur, jabbing a finger at the Ranger, your neck still throbbing from all the love bites and hickeys he’d given you. “Thiz is your fault.”

He reaches for the bottle, but you snatch it away and instead start to take pulls directly from it. A deep sigh reverberates behind you as you stand and begin to spin around, hands extended. “Aren’t we celebrating you catching me again? You got what you wanted, you…you mudder…fuuuu…” You sway and just barely catch yourself before you tumble—wait, no, that’s him steadying your shoulders.

“(Y/n).” You blink out of your haze momentarily; only on rare occasions does he use your name and not things like darling or cutie. His face is controlled, mouth tilted downward. “Put the bottle down. I know the feelin’ of wanting to drown in liquor, but it ain’t right.”

“I’m only like this because you took me from my life!”

He bares his teeth, and you know you hit a nerve. “That little shack you called a home? Was that really livin’? All those nights we talked, you said how you wanted grand adventure and risk! To travel and see the stars! To be with me!”

“I didn’t ask for you to put me in a moving cage,” you spit back, trying to shake out of his iron-clad grip. “But you never asked what I wanted, did you?”

“Why’s this all so hard for you to accept?” One hand moves to grab your chin, tilting your face towards his tall form. “It could be just us, ridin’ through the galaxy for all time.” His lips brush lightly against your own, and you feel a tinge of warmth run down your spine. “Just be mine.”

In your drunken stupor, your anger morphs into something else, something more carnal. He wants to be the predator? Well, even the hunted fight back sometimes.

The bottle drops from your hand, shattering against the floor, as you hook an arm around his neck and kiss him fervently, your tongue running along the edges of his pointed canines.

Before he can kiss you back, you pull away, wiping the back of your mouth with your forearm. “That’s what could have been if you hadn’t kidnapped me. If you’d asked me first.” Skipping over the remnants of the whiskey bottle, you flip him the finger over your shoulder as you walk away. “Too bad that’s all you’ll get. Fork you, Boothill.”

As soon as you leave the room, Boothill raises a metal digit to his lips, savoring the sensation of your warm mouth against his. So that’s what your willing kiss feels like. The true passion he knows is hidden deep in your soul, buried beneath the dirt like an unmarked grave. He releases a breathy laugh.

Well fork him sideways, but he wants more.

Taking his hat off, he sets it on the table and moves to pour himself a glass of sherry. He’s nearly positive he’ll find you passed out in bed if he goes to you now, and knows he shouldn’t, can’t be in the same room with you when his self control is so near to breaking. Better to let you sleep it off and tease you about the kiss in the morning.

Boothill kicks his feet up and takes a long sip. So, it turns out your drunken self may actually be harboring some attraction for him. Yeah, he can use that.

“I’ll have you someday,” he whispers, a promise to both you and himself. “Whiskey ain’t the only thing that’ll be on your lips, darlin’.”

#yandere boothill #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere escape #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yanderecore #yandere male #yandere #yancore #honkai star rail #hsr #Boothill

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goldenstring6123 · 2 months

Text

Lnds: Their nicknames for you

Warning: No warning!

SYLUS:

Peeping Tom - You like to enter the shower when he's in, and he can no longer count on his fingers how many times you walked in on him changing, not that he's shy. Despite this, he doesn't lock the door to his closet or the bathroom. One day, when you're off guard, he'll definitely pounce at you.

Mrs. Boss (Alt. Little boss) - You weren't married, no, but with how you treat him, he feels like a husband. Despite being the boss of Onichynus, it's amusing to see you hand out orders. This nickname is something he'd use while you're undercover and using your aristocrat alter-identity. The Mrs. was something he used because he likes to imagine you're married to him; after all, no man can match you other than him.

My Wife - Again, you weren't married, but people can't seem to take a hint when he says he's not interested. At every event, someone is bound to throw themselves at him and insist on being his company, but with a simple mention of "I have a wife," followed by a statement about you being displeased or angered, they scurry away. You don't know he uses that nickname in front of strangers, and it doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon.

Other nicknames: Dessert Vacuum, Little Birdie & Little Hamster

Xavier:

Ms. Idol - He once overheard you singing out loud while you were in the shower. When you were at the karaoke bar, madly drunk, you kept stealing the microphone from your peers. Sometimes, he also likes to listen to you hum. He deems it appropriate to give you that nickname.

Little Star - You were very skilled against him in kitty cards, and it didn't feel appropriate to give you the nickname "Best Player in Linkon City, Queen of Kitty Cards," so he just called you the Little Star. How that nickname correlates to the game is unknown to you, but oh well.

Personal Pillow - He likes to sleep on you. On your shoulder, on your thigh, even against your back—he can and will go to sleep if he could. Xavier would always wake up with you in his embrace, and you never really complained, so he continued doing it. He'll only use this nickname whenever you're staying up late, and he's waiting for you to go to bed. You'll be in the living room, and you'll hear him say, "I need my pillow to sleep!"

Other nicknames: Pastry Princess & Pretty Lady

Rafayel:

Bully - With your frequent teasing and provocation, you ought to see this one coming. This is his nickname on your phone, and you didn't really know it until you snooped around. Once you find out, he outright calls you a bully whenever you poke fun at him for doing something.

My Muse - He doesn't call you this face-to-face, but this is your nickname when Rafayel is talking to art buyers and connoisseurs. They often ask about who he's drawing inspiration from. He sometimes says "his lover," but to him, it felt more exciting and intriguing to refer to you as his muse.

Starfish - This was a testament to your habit of hogging the entire bed. Every time you sleep over, you end up sprawled all over the bed like a starfish stuck to glass. Rafayel had to endure the small space that he had left on his bed and altogether just slept on the sofa on bad nights. Sometimes, he'd be surprised to wake up with the bed all to himself until he looked at the floor. And there you were in the same position, except flipped over.

Other nicknames: Pufferfish/Koi Fish, Beau, Cutie

Zayne:

Ms. Hunter - He uses this nickname when you're in the hospital getting treated for an injury from work. This is a nickname that's also a sign: a sign that Zayne is mildly pissed at your carelessness at work. When he uses this nickname, he becomes formal with you until you get a good dose of scolding from him.

Honey - He uses this on a daily basis inside your home and when he's on his day off. This was sort of like your second name, and whenever you hear the word, you almost always turn to look at Zayne. You call him honey, too, but you prefer the shorter version: Hun.

Sweetheart - This is a nickname Zayne uses to comfort you. Whenever you have a bad day or are in a bad mood, Zayne will automatically enter 'doting-lover' mode. He'd use this to refer to you and break down your emotional walls until you can tell him what's wrong. 10/10 if he uses this nickname outside of those moments, then it means Zayne is asking you to do him a favor of some sort.

Other nicknames: Sweetie & Wife

Caleb:

Angry Bird - Caleb calls you this because back then, you had the temperament of a fussy old lady. He'd always find a way to piss you off, and you'd run after him with a stick or something that you could hit him with.

Author footnotes: I added Caleb because I want to slowly integrate him to my works.

Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

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roosterforme · 1 day

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Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat."

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend."

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board.

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

-----------------------

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck.

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there.

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered.

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he wanted in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too! A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking."

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense.

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall.

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host.

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more?

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back?

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID."

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard.

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties.

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again.

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him.

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here.

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

----------------------------

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone.

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb.

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this.

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him.

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

-----------------------------

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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