#hiring services for shipping

[shippingivalueplus]

Navigate Smoothly with HR Solutions for International Shipping Excellence

Your crew are the wind in your sails, navigating complex logistics, ensuring on-time deliveries, and keeping cargo safe in often challenging conditions. Finding and retaining top talent is crucial, however this can be a turbulent journey. Enter Shipping iValuePlus, your trusted outsourcing partner for HR solutions for shipping industry that chart a course for international shipping excellence.

[bibleofficial]

if trump actually does put tariffs on fuckin everything that could be very good for america in the long run tbf

[princessmyriad]

Hate the concept of "business days" for online services. What the fuck do you mean my payment will be processed in 3-5 business days its a fucking program that does it?? The bot needs weekends too now?? Fuck off

[feral-soup]

One time a boss figure assigned me and some other peons of my job title to read a book about one's mindset. Our dismal little book club had but one initial meeting and nothing ever came of it. Maybe someone had told on her for assigning homework outside of our job description IDK. But I could not help but think we peons would have had a better mindset if our bosses had a modicum of appreciation for our work and our efforts.

[ritik2]

Premium shuttle service for airport

At Black Tie Transport, we understand the importance of seamless transportation, especially when it comes to getting to and from the bustling Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). Our premier shuttle services are designed to provide travelers with a stress-free experience, ensuring reliable and efficient transportation to their terminals or desired destinations.

Reliable Transportation Solutions Say goodbye to the hassle of finding parking, enduring lengthy walks from remote parking areas, or dealing with unreliable taxi services. With Black Tie Transport, you can relax and leave the driving to us. Our fleet of shuttle vans offers a cost-effective alternative to traditional taxi rides, providing passengers with a comfortable and convenient way to travel to LAX. Prompt Service for Peace of Mind We understand that time is of the essence when it comes to catching a flight or reaching your destination. That's why our LAX airport shuttle service is dedicated to ensuring prompt arrivals and departures. You can trust Black Tie Transport to get you to the airport on time for your flight or to your destination without any delays. Eliminate Travel Stress Traveling can be stressful, but it doesn't have to be. With Black Tie Transport, you can eliminate the stress and uncertainty often associated with airport transportation. Whether you're traveling for business or pleasure, our shuttle service offers peace of mind, allowing you to focus on enjoying your journey. Exceptional Customer Service At Black Tie Transport, we prioritize customer satisfaction above all else. From the moment you book your shuttle service to the moment you reach your destination, our team is committed to providing you with the highest level of service possible. With our professional drivers and well-maintained vehicles, you can trust us to deliver a superior travel experience every time. Comfort and Convenience Our shuttle vans are designed with passenger comfort and convenience in mind. Each vehicle is equipped with spacious seating, ample luggage space, and modern amenities to ensure a pleasant journey. Whether you're traveling solo or with a group, you'll appreciate the comfort and convenience of our shuttle services. Affordable Rates Traveling to and from the airport shouldn't break the bank. That's why we offer competitive rates on all of our shuttle services. With Black Tie Transport, you can enjoy reliable transportation without the hefty price tag. Plus, with our transparent pricing and no hidden fees, you'll know exactly what to expect from start to finish. Flexible Scheduling We understand that travel plans can change unexpectedly. That's why we offer flexible scheduling options to accommodate your needs. Whether you need a last-minute ride to the airport or want to book your shuttle service in advance, we've got you covered. Simply let us know your preferences, and we'll work with you to create a customized travel itinerary that fits your schedule. Book Your Shuttle Service Today Experience the convenience and reliability of Black Tie Transport for yourself. Book your LAX airport shuttle service:- https://www.blacktietransportservices.com/ today and enjoy a stress-free travel experience from start to finish. With our premier shuttle services, you can relax and leave the driving to us.

[annabelle--cane]

I should start offering my services for hire to not-very-online creators whose works suddenly pick up big transformative fandoms. no, don't answer that headcanon question with a definitive yes or no, keep it in the "it's not in the text so who knows" zone. here's a list of loaded terms that people will use to try and bait you into shipping discourse without your knowledge. no yeah, that's a perfectly harmless personal taste thing but if you share it publicly people will think you're calling for book burning. there's actually no need to respond to this one critique, a very similar discourse was settled in a 47k note post about avatar: the last airbender in november 2020, the argument will inevitably go the same way.

[elodieunderglass]

Hey bestie whats a narrow boat? I saw you tag that on something you reblogged and I'm pretty curious now!

- Terry Darlington, Narrow Dog to Carcassone

A narrowboat (all one word) is a craft restricted to the British Isles, which are connected all over by a nerve-map of human-made canals. To go up and down hills, the canals are spangled with locks (chambers in which boats can be raised or lowered by filling or emptying them with water.) As Terry says above, the width of the locks was somewhat randomly determined, and as a result, the British Isles have a narrow design of lock - and a narrowboat to fit through them. A classic design was seventy feet long and six feet wide. Starting in the 18th century, and competing directly with trains, canal “barges” were an active means of transport and shipping. They were initially pulled along the towpaths by horses, and you can still see some today!

Later, engines were developed.

Even after the trains won the arms race, it was a fairly viable freight service right up until WW2. It’s slow travel, but uses few resources and requires little human power, with a fairly small crew (of women, in WW2) being capable of shifting two fully laden boats without consuming much fossil fuel.

In those times the barges were designed with small, cramped cabins in which the boaters and their families could live.

During its heyday the narrowboat community developed a style of folk art called “roses and castles” with clear links to fairground art as well as Romani caravan decor. They are historically decorated with different kinds of brass ornaments, and inside the cabins could also be distinctively painted and decorated.

Today, many narrowboats are distinctively decorated and colorful - even if not directly traditional with “roses and castles” they’ll still be bright and offbeat. A quirky name is necessary. All narrowboats, being boats, are female.

After a postwar decline, interest in the waterways was sparked by a leisure movement and collapsing canals were repaired. Today, the towpaths are a convenient walking/biking trail for people, as they connect up a lot of the mainland of the UK, hitting towns and cities. Although the restored canals are concrete-bottomed, they’re attractive to wildlife. Narrowboats from the 1970s onward started being designed for pleasure and long-term living. People enjoy vacationing by hiring a boat and visiting towns for a cuter, comfier, slower version of a campervan life. And a liveaboard community sprang up - people who live full-time on boats. Up until the very restrictive and nasty laws recently passed in the UK to make it harder for travelling peoples (these were aimed nastily at vanlivers and the Romani, and successfully hit everyone) this was one of the few legal ways remaining to be a total nomad in the UK.

Liveaboards can moor up anywhere along the canal for 28 days, but have to keep moving every 28 days. (Although sorting out the toilet and loading up with fresh water means that a lot of people move more frequently than that.) you can also live full-time in a marina if they allow it, or purchase your own mooring. In London, where canal boats are one of the few remaining cheapish ways to live, boats with moorings fetch the same prices as houses. It can be very very hard for families to balance school, parking, work, and all the difficulties of living off-grid- but many make it work. It remains a diverse community and is even growing, due to housing pressures in the UK. Boats can be very comfortable, even when only six feet wide. When faced with spending thousands of pounds on rent OR mooring up on a nice canal, you can see why it seems a romantic proposition for young people, and UK television channels always have slice-of-life documentaries about young folks fixing up their very own quirky solar-powered narrowboat. I don’t hate; I did it myself.

If you’re lucky, you might even meet some of the cool folks who run businesses from their narrowboats: canal-side walkers enjoy bookshops, vegan bakeries, ice-cream boats, restaurants, artists and crafters. There are Floating Markets and narrowboat festivals. It’s generally recognised that boaters contribute quite a lot to the canal - yet there are many tensions between different kinds of boaters (liveaboards vs leisure boaters vs tourists) as well as tensions with local settled people, towpath users like cyclists, and fishermen. I could go on and on explaining this rich culture and dramas, but I won’t.

Phillip Pullman’s Gyptians are a commonly cited example of liveaboards - although they were based on the narrowboat liveaboards that Pullman knew in Oxford, their boats are actually Dutch barges. Dutch barges make good homes but are too wide to access most of the midlands and northern canals, and are usually restricted to the south of the UK. So they’re accurate for Bristol/London/Oxford, and barges are definitely comfier to film on. (Being six feet wide is definitely super awkward for a boat.) but in general Dutch barges are less common, more expensive and can’t navigate the whole system.

However, apart from them, there are few examples of narrowboat depictions that escaped containment. So it’s quite interesting that there is an entire indigenous special class of boat, distinctive and highly specialised and very cute, with an associated culture and heritage and folk art type, known to all and widely celebrated, and ABSOLUTELY UNKNOWN outside of the UK - a nation largely known around the world for inflicting its culture on others. They’re a strange, sweet little secret - and nobody who has ever loved one can resist pointing them out for the rest of their lives, or talking about them when asked to. Thank you for asking me to.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The Brave (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: A collection of first times with Daemon.

Warnings: Bastard! Reader. Daddy issues. Corruption kink. Innocence kink. Age difference, power imbalance. Poorly translated HV. Angst. Enemies to lovers (Sort of?) Happy ending. Usual warnings for Daemon (Sexual thoughts, mature language, violence)

Requested: Yes! My first after Halloween, life has been crazy.

THE FISHERMEN SAIL too early for your liking. You know it has little to do with their personal preference, and more to do with the tides. It doesn’t mean you are happy about it, though.

Your job is to ensure all your ships are in good condition and ready to transport whatever those men bring home. Your mother had made a small fortune by expanding her father’s fleet, and after her passing, it was your turn to handle it. You preferred to oversee things personally, knowing that only an owner’s touch could ensure the quality of service you prided yourself in.

No one loved these ships more than you. Small and old they were, but they tied you to your mother. You lacked her knowledge, and sometimes, they made you far less money than you hoped for, but you insisted on keeping them. Your siblings had not shown such an interest, choosing other pursuits.

Allyn, much more practical, had preferred to learn the trade of a shipwright. He now worked under Lord Corlys. It embarrassed you to say it, but it was him and not you who was the breadwinner of your family. Some months, if not most, it was far more lucrative than your business with the ships.

Addam worked occasionally as a shipwright too, but he didn’t have a steady source of income. He was far too young to be hired anywhere, lacking the experience most lords wanted from those building their ships. Sometimes, he also helped you.

Today wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise, you would have forced him to come here in your stead. With a grumble, you jumped from the ship to the dock. Everything was as it should, so you had to move to the next one.

The sunrise makes Hull look even more beautiful, the city slowly beginning to rise under Driftmark’s watchful eyes. The white marble and ivory of the castle provide a backdrop for the goldens and pinks that color the scene. It would make you smile, were it not for the fact that the peaceful morning is ruined by every damn bell in the city tolling.

Visitors. Noble ones. By the amount of noise, they are announcing the visit of someone very high ranking.

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

You shouldn’t have bothered. A harsh gust of wind takes it fully off and nearly sends you caroling into the water. The dock shakes underneath you, the ships and water agitated by the same thing. You scream, as do the rest of the sailors who are near.

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze. You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

You had never seen a dragon up close before. You are not allowed to go near Driftmark, where the Princess and the Lord and Lady keep theirs.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

The man smiles. He winks at you.

You lower your eyes and do not stop running until you are safe at home.

DAEMON SEES YOU again when he least expects it. He has looked for you in every pleasure house on this island and has not been able to find you. The brave little maiden with silver hair, who had screamed bloody murder but stood her ground on the docks when she saw him approach.

You must be of Valyrian descent. There is no other explanation for your lack of fear. You were young and comely, so he had guessed that you must be a whore. It was what happened to girls who looked like you. Men loved pretending they were either a Princess or the daughter of some lord. And so close to Driftmark? They probably asked you to pretend you were little Laena Velaryon.

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes. If he could sneak a bit of a taste in advance, you wouldn’t catch him complaining about it.

When he had agreed to accompany Corlys to oversee the progress being made on the news ships for his fleet, the last thing he expected to encounter was you.

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships. His head had turned instinctively towards the sound, and it was then that he saw you.

The dress you had on was a plain gray, as it was the headscarf you wore. But Daemon would know that face anywhere. He had sought everywhere for it. You were holding a small basket, next to some shipwright. The man looked older than you, already bald. You were all smiles and animated gestures, seemingly taken by him.

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Is it in bad taste to approach you when his future father-in-law is distracted by his sailors? Probably. But he cannot stop himself. Because the only thing Daemon can think of, the only thing that would make him feel better, is to bring you as low as he. Ruin your little fantasy as you had ruined his.

He marches towards where the man and you are, and gently cups your chin in his hand. The sudden interruption startles you, and you try taking a step back, but his sweet hold has turned into Valyrian Steel. There is no escape for little whores.

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

Begrudgingly, Daemon has to name the strange feeling taking place in his stomach. Awe. Admiration. You had fire in your belly, and steel on your spine. You were a truer Valyrian than many of his own family members.

They were weak. Soft. You were not. But you were still a mere peasant, and he couldn’t allow you to disrespect him such.

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

“Unhand her.” He says, voice firm. His expression doesn’t waver, the same steel you have mirrored in his brown eyes. Up close, he is much younger than Daemon expected, tall and muscular from what seems like a life of hard work. He tugs you behind him.

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

“Daemon.” And really, things were just turning interesting. Why does Corlys have to interrupt at the worst time possible? “Unhand her immediately.”

At his appearance, both you and the boy turn an awful gray shade that matches your dress and headscarf. Fear of their liege, perhaps?

But the boy’s jaw ticks, and your dark eyes lower in a manner that they hadn’t when facing him. Something else is at play here.

“I was just…” Daemon slowly retracts his hand, studying the surrounding faces carefully. You, sullen, the boy enraged. Corlys’ cold as ice. Neither of you speak, yet it is clear you are not strangers.

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

And the tone Corlys uses is strange, for a man unbothered by the costs of power. What are two peasants to the favor of a Prince? Why does he know them? He had never struck Daemon as someone concerned by his subjects.

And then, a piece of your hair falls out of your headscarf. Silver against a dark background. And it is then he knows it. You are no dragonseed. Nor is the boy with the shaved head.

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread. His presence is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. It is the first time you are home alone after the incident, not Addam nor Allyn willing to risk this stranger attempting anything worse than he already has. Three days had passed, and they had considered it enough. If the man had not approached you during that time, it meant he wouldn’t, right? Clearly no. He had just been bidding his time, waiting for both of your brothers to go. “Corlys's little secret.”

Your hands shake. You wished Allyn wasn’t so set on teaching Addam his craft, and hadn’t gone out today. Being home alone with a strange man around didn’t spell anything good for you.

A quick glance at the door reassures you that it is still barred. You take a not so subtle step back from the window.

The prince lip’s quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but betraying his amusement. Does he find your fear funny?

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal. The title makes you scoff. No one has ever called you a lady, much less a Prince.

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her. Wondering what life would have been like if you didn’t have to hide, if your father acknowledged you. Wondering what it would feel, to be a Lady and never go to bed hungry, to be surrounded by beauty all day.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

As if sensing your thoughts, Prince Daemon lifts one of his hands. He holds up a package, wrapped in bright white silk. Both he and his gift look deeply out of place here, near your window. In his fine clothes, in brighter colors than you can afford, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

You do not take the parcel. You merely look at him and fight an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

You open it carefully. Two smaller parcels fall from it, both as carefully wrapped.

“You can wear the silk.” He tells you, gesturing to your hair. “And the rest…”

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

With rushed hands, you open the other parcel. A small sack of flour, lemons, and pages torn from a book. They are all expensive things, nothing like the flour you buy at the market to make bread or the bruised fruit you get when Addam craves something sweet. You squint at the pages, puzzled by their presence.

“Mix one cup of flour with… Is this..?” You ask him, astonished. A small smile begins to form on your face.

“The recipe for lemon cakes. For your baking.” He smiles back. He then gestures to your hands, still covered in flour. “I hear you enjoy it. Just… Save me a piece.”

“Thank you.” You beam at him. He gives you a bow, and leaves. You find yourself smiling like a fool the rest of the afternoon.

You cannot believe it. Prince Daemon has just given you the recipe for lemon cakes. As far apologies go, this is a great one.

Addam and Allyn go to bed with full stomachs. You go to bed with yours full of butterflies. No one has ever ensured such for the three of you.

“IS IT CLOSE enough?” You bite your lower lip, watching Daemon chew a piece of cake. His brows furrow a bit, and he lets out a small, throaty moan.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

“I got excited.” You scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. The batter had smelt and tasted so heavenly, you had just kept adding more.

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

It’s peaceful here. He often says he cares not for the ocean, but the two of you always walk the same route. From your home, towards your ships, then back.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying. You try to focus on something else. Your scuffed shoes. His boots. The sand under your feet. The urge to run away, and scream, and die from the humiliation of even asking.

Daemon sighs. He sits down on the sand, patting the space on his side. His clothes, despite their simple design, are very fine.

“Your clothes…” You mumble, without sitting.

“Bah, I have three other cloaks like this one.” As if proving a point, he takes it off, laying it down for you to sit. You feel even sillier at his patience. “Come. Sit down, jorrāeliarzys.”

You obey him because there is little else to do. You have already messed up, you don’t wish to make any other mistake. His company has become precious to you, a welcome respite from your brothers. Living with two boys, you are never alone. But every so often, you wish for more engaging conversation.

“I am not ashamed of being seen in your company. I just… I thought you preferred it here.” Daemon explains, softly tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Would you like for us to meet in the city, instead?”

You think of meeting him in the city’s market. Of the rumors that would sure follow, of the names you would be called. Of your father finding out. You know what it would look like to him. That you are making the same mistake as your mother did.

You are not dumb. Daemon is not here to simply plan an alliance. Alliances are always sealed in blood, and your half sister is barely old enough to be considered.

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

So why does it hurt like this, why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You take the parcels he gives you without any shame. That night, as the three of you are eating a generous serving of venison, Allyn scowls.

“I don’t like it. Can’t you see what he wants?”

Addam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate, as if he is truly seeing the meat he is being served for the first time.

“I am not mother.” You say, icily. The venison tastes bitter on your tongue, but stubbornly, you keep eating. Allyn is just angry that it is not longer him who is putting the meals on the table. “I know what highborn men are like.”

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

“All the more reason not to allow him to take your maidenhead.”

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

Allyn looks at you, eyes full of pity. You cannot bear it. Your eyes sting again. You hurry out of the table.

“Where are you going?” Addam reaches forward, as if to grab you.

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

Alone, in your room, you tear the headscarf he had given you to shreds. You squeeze the rests on your palm, you make a ball, you throw it against the wall.

The next morning, you have sobbed your throat raw. You still go to meet him in the afternoon.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Daemon can tell when he picks you up that day. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and your complexion an awful gray. The headscarf he had given you is nowhere to be seen, and you are back to your severe gray one.

Like a bad case of heartburn, the lie he had told you comes back to him, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth.

Daemon is not ashamed of you, but doesn't want to be seen with you either. The consequences for you would be too great. He had learned his lesson with Mysaria. The double stain would have made you a pariah, both because of your birth and because of whom you were bedding.

Because it was all that people would think about when they found out. No one would believe Daemon had yet to touch you.

He was unsure if he ever would.

You were an extraordinary girl, yet still a bastard. There was nothing to be done about it. All you could be was friends and lovers, and nothing more.

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

Daemon had been like you, once. When younger. He, too, felt a lack of acknowledgement by those around you, and an urge to prove himself. His father had passed when he was still young, and Viserys had received all laurels. It would have never bothered him because he loved his brother, but Viserys had left him behind. Married Aemma. Had children. Gained the love of his people, found new friends.

Never once Viserys had looked at Daemon. No matter how hard he tried to reach for him, his brother always evaded his hand. Daemon had been left there. He, too, had stood on the shadows and feigned indifference, burning up with secret resentment.

The idea of you growing up to be like him was both appealing and horrifying. There was a sweetness to you, a naïveté that he had lacked even in his younger years. He wanted to preserve it. Shield you from the world.

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

You would taste exquisite on his tongue, crumbling from his caresses. Your cunt would feel like wet velvet around him, and you would sound your sweetest when he was spearing you open on his cock.

And how would you smile, joyous and fierce, his brave girl. Some maidens cried, but not you. You were made of sterner stuff, a heart that burned brighter and stronger than the Fourteen Flames. You had stood your ground, terrified but unbowed, in front of Caraxes himself.

Such a face you had, all Valyrian empress. A sovereign nose, the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes, and a slippery laugh that always gave you an air of mischief. A face not made for sadness. It is what prompts him to do what will become either the greatest mistake of his life, or his greatest triumph.

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

“A tavern?” The surprising offering shakes you out of your sadness. Your face changes from a sad little frown into a curious one.

“Have you ever gone to one?” Daemon tugs the hair scarf from your hair, softly. The silver curls fall free, in a lovely mess. You scowl, trying to get it back, but he holds it just out of your reach. It’s a lovely thing, to watch you give little jumps on your tiptoes, curls bouncing with the motion. “Ah! None of that, now. Answer my question first.”

“No, I haven’t. Addam and Allyn go from time to time, but it sounds too rowdy for my liking.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

The walk to the city is awkward. Not because the two of you have nothing to talk about, but rather, because of the stares. Your silver hair, despite your simple clothing, commands attention. So does Daemon’s presence, and the arm he has around your shoulders.

He had not been wrong. This would cost you. A cost too steep for someone he sought to keep safe.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

It’s delicious. But when he serves you a goblet, you take a big sip and begin to splutter.

“Mittys hunes iksā.” Daemon tuts. His silly bunny. “You are not meant to drink it such. You ought to savor it.”

“Savor?” You arch an eyebrow. “Tastes like dragonfire.”

And perhaps it's the choice of words, or the glint of your silver hair under the low light emanating from the torches, but something about you reminds him of the way he had loved Rhaenyra and admired Laena, the other Valyrian beauties in his life. They are not here, he cannot reach them. But you are.

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

You eye him warily, but get up from your chair and move until you are standing in front of him. It's not enough for Daemon. It never is. He always wants you closer, closer to hold, to protect, to own.

He tugs you between his parted legs.

“Do you trust me?”

There is a slight furrow of your brow. The barest hint of hesitation. Yet, your voice is firm when you answer him.

“Yes.”

His girl. His precious girl. If you had been his, he would have never hurt you like Corlys had. Never allowed to become easy prey for men like him. You shouldn’t trust him.

Daemon shouldn’t be doing this, either. It is a good thing he has never claimed to be a good man.

He takes a sip of his wine, and leans towards you, capturing your mouth in his. At first, you fight him, the suddenness startling you. It’s only when he gives your lower lip a sharp nip, that you melt into the kiss. When your mouth parts slightly, he passes you the wine.

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

Your obedience and compliance only makes him wilder, drives him to grasp at your hips, pull you closer. Just when you begin to lean into Daemon, dutifully swallowing the wine, someone jerks you out of his grip.

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

Your face turns ashen. You look like you are about to cry, or worse, flee. Daemon jumps up, and gets between Rhaenys and you.

“You were always a whore!” She screams, her index finger digging into his chest. You let out a sob, quietly. Daemon’s heart feels like it is being wrenched from his chest. At this point, the screams have attracted all the tavern's attention. Daemon doesn’t doubt that by this time tomorrow, the whole island will know.

You will be shunned. Just as he had feared.

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

Daemon feels utterly stunned. Never in a million years he would have thought Rhaenys was referring to him.

“Are you calling me a whore?”

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

He wasn’t even aware that a woman could land such a blow.

“You dare! You toyed with my daughter and this girl as you saw fit.” And Daemon cannot even get a word in because she is too angry. He feels his cheeks reddening, and its unsure if he is feeling embarrassment at being scolded like a child, or rage at her words. “But worry not. I will make this right.”

Rhaenys has a manic gleam in her eyes. For a frightening second, Daemon thinks he sees in her the famous Targaryen madness.

Instead of setting you both on fire, she lunges, avoiding Daemon, and grabbing you hands in hers.

“I shall not allow you to make the same mistake your mother did.” Rhaenys says, and she is gone before Daemon can answer anything.

THIS IS YOUR greatest triumph. Why, then, does it taste like ashes on your tongue?

You are wearing the finest dress you have ever owned, gifted to you by Daemon. Princess Rhaenys has forced both him and your father into complacency, and even forced King Viserys to allow your betrothal. Still, you feel adrift. Even betrayed.

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

The stink of shame that followed you around, the whispers of dishonor and the looks of distaste, would have been even more intense. You would have been ruined, known as little more than a whore. And your family no longer had the money that had shielded your mother during her pregnancies.

You had not known it. But Daemon must have. He had a reputation for taking maidenheads as he saw fit, Addam had informed you. You were a fool for not knowing, and a fool for believing he wanted something else from you.

The royal decree is read by a Maester, in front of all the Lords of near castles, the smallfolk of Driftmark and the Velaryons. Even in the first beautiful dress you own, you feel small. Out of place. The looks your half siblings are shooting you do not help you feel better.

Once the bill is read, Lord Corlys steps forward.

“Daughter.” He says, grasping your hands in his. He is cold. He is cold, and it makes your skin crawl, even when it is all you wanted as a little girl. It’s the first time he acknowledges you, and he is not at all like the man you imagined, when dreaming as a child of what it would be like for him to look at you. Because even a glance would have been enough back then. “It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

Your brothers could not be recognized as you were. You had shyly asked Princess Rhaenys, and if she thought you dimwitted before, she had probably confirmed her suspicions. They were men, she had explained, and a threat to Laenor’s rights once your father passed. You, instead, were nothing but a girl who had sullied herself, whose honor had been compromised so thoroughly you had turned even less important in the great scheme of things.

She was helping you because you had been taken advantage of by Daemon, Princess Rhaenys had said, but also to spare her daughter from your fate. Wife to a husband that would most likely betray you and sire bastards.

Lord Corlys was just happy to have another pawn to marry off and forge alliances. Freeing his daughter from a disloyal husband was an added bonus.

Every time you heard them, your hands turned into fist, and you could barely fight the rage from clouding your expression. You had not done the thing everyone was accusing you of, and yet were being judged for it all the same. Daemon, too, did nothing to correct them. Not even when the most scandalous rumors surfaced, saying you would wed him with a child already in your belly.

You had not let him touch you like that. You were not as stupid as everyone thought. As a daughter to a single mother, you knew all about scorn and loneliness. You would never doom a child to your same fate.

The day doesn’t pick up from there. The feast to follow feels just as empty, and you turn down an insincere offer from your father to be housed here. You cannot wait to run back to your brothers.

It would be impolite to leave so soon, though. Lord Corlys has thrown this feast in your honor and is making the lords and members of his household present you with gifts. You admit it is a clever strategy, to avoid having to spend money in your trousseau. Hence, you need to stay a little bit longer.

You get handed new quills and parchments, alongside a new seal for your correspondence by Laena.

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.” It says a lot about the company you are in that it is the most polite greeting you receive all afternoon.

When it all begins to become a bit much, and your eyes are stinging after a lady said you had no grace and no manners, you decide you need to run. But when you are stepping a foot outside the hall, Daemon appears by your side.

“Rather improper, isn’t it?” He asks, grabbing your hand in his. You try to jerk away, but he merely interlaces your fingers together. “A lady cannot quite run around unescorted as you used to.”

“Leave me alone, Daemon.” You say, still trying to free yourself. The last thing you want today is to deal with him.

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

“You heard all those people. I do not belong here.” You look up at him, fighting your tears. You feel like such a whiny child. What happened to you is something that only happens in fairytales, it's the stuff songs are written about. No bastard girl gets acknowledged by her father and marries a Prince.

“Who cares what those cunts think?” Daemon scoffs. “You are above them. You always were.”

You bloom under his praise. There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. There is nothing you would like more.

“I never wanted to be a Lady.” You lower your eyes, embarrassed at the admission. You feel ungrateful for saying it, but it’s the truth. You had never imagined a home away from your siblings. The marriage will mean you will be taken away from them, and only see them if Daemon feels like it.

You do not own a dragon, after all. And you aren’t too sure Allyn and him will be the best good brothers.

He grabs you by the waist and gives a little tug.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

MARRYING YOU HAD never been in his plans. Yet, when he saw you walk down the aisle, dressed in Velaryon blue and looking awkward, Daemon was sure you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You were not a lady or a princess, yet you and him were alike. Birds of the same feather. For the first time, Daemon could say there was someone who understood him.

Daemon had never been poor, nor had he been born a bastard, but he too, had lost his parents while young. He, too, was considered too wild by his brother. And he knew all about of trying to fulfill an impossible task while honoring the legacy of his ancestors.

Laena was a mere child by your side. Her innocence and Valyrian looks had appealed to him once, but after meeting you, Daemon knew no other woman could compare. There was an edge to you, beneath all the innocence and beauty. A fire that burned bright in your belly, and could not be quenched. An anger that both amazed him and scared him, and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

You would have been great if you had been born into his house. Great but terrible.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t have. Perhaps, if you had grown acknowledged by your father, you would have not been the lost little girl who dreamed of recognition and slept lulled by the sea. You wouldn’t have grown into the woman who got the recognition and understood she did not need it at all.

A shame that recognition had come at a price so steep. Recognition in exchange for rumors of dishonor, whispers of the shame of your existence and the shame you had brought on yourself. These cunts did not see you for what you were. Not some malicious creature, some silver tongued temptress. No. You were determined and fierce, brave and true. You honored your house’s words. Your ancestors would have been proud.

Yes, Daemon decided. He would marry you and take you away from here, from this horrible little island where people behaved like they were above you. The cunts should be honored that you were even looking their way.

The distance might even help those stubborn brothers of yours to forget all about the way Daemon had become part of their family. When the grudge was forgotten, he would bring you back, less the eldest skewered him alive.

Not because Daemon feared Allyn. Of course not. But because killing him would be such a nuisance, and you would cry, and… Ugh. He couldn’t stand to see you cry.

You were about to burst into tears right now. He could tell. Daemon grabbed your hands in his, uncaring he was breaking protocol, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“We can still marry on the beach, with only Caraxes as witness.” He whispers, gently. “Hells, I would prefer it. We can run still. The Septon has not spoken.”

You laugh, a bit watery.

“Addam and Allyn would drop dead, thinking we will not be wed.”

“Allyn looks like he would attempt murder.”

“Attempt?”

“I doubt he would succeed.”

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

Daemon's mouth opens and closes.

“You little..!”

You laugh, but before he can lunge and throw you over his shoulder, the Septon clears his throat.

“If the two of you are done..?”

“Just get to the part where you handfast us.” Daemon says, giving him his best lecherous expression. “I have many things I wish to show my new bride.”

And there were. He had taken many of your firsts already, he wasn’t about to stop now.

[evercelle]

Can't remember if anyone has asked this before but do you like any scaramouche ships.❓

i'm not deep into any in particular, but i think: chiscara is comedy/angst gold (with no inbetween), kazuscara has some excellent knife to genuine friends/lovers potential, and the artist who drew daily venti pics on twt opened my third eye to scaraven lol

i don't see it romantically, but i do think wanderer + nahida are basically platonic soulmates... genshin's sumeru writing did some really phenomenal work setting them up as character foils throughout the conflict of the archon quest, and then developing their neutral alliance -> genuine companionship after! very girlboss of nahida to refuse to let the former enemy of state run from his past but then ALSO grant him citizenship send him to college and hire him into the secret service. hope they hang out w/ aranaras every day

[prying-pandora666]

“Zuko Never Wanted To Kill Anyone”

Zuko tried to kill Suki. He fired a shot that would’ve fried her to a crisp when she was down on the ground. The only reason she lived was because Sokka deflected it.

Zuko drove his ship into the ice in the SWT, nearly running over several children. One child almost fell between the cracked ice and had to be rescued. That would’ve been a death sentence. Zuko didn’t care.

Zuko repeatedly burns down or causes serious damage to villages with people living inside them. Including children.

He tells his own crew members that their lives done matter, only his goals, and forces them to steer into a dangerous storm that could’ve gotten them all killed.

He violently robs civilians when he is on the streets. And not only out of desperation, but also for luxury items he feels entitled to.

Even as a small child, he laughed at his uncle’s joke about burning the largest civilian city in the world to the ground. While he’s actively seizing it and no one can get out.

Zuko betrays his own uncle to his nation, knowing he has been branded a traitor and may well be executed if not imprisoned for life in horrible conditions that will surely lead to premature death. In one of the comics Zuko is told that Iroh may not even survive the trip home. He still goes through with it.

He hired an assassin, behind everyone’s backs so it wasn’t even being done in service as a soldier for his nation, to murder Aang just to protect his own social status and his father’s approval.

He goaded Aang on to kill his father and mocked Aang for wanting a non-homicidal solution.

He crashed his sister’s coronation—not aware that she has banished everyone, mind you, so he could be walking into a highly protected fortress and potentially have to kill his way through soldiers and servants—and challenges his sister to an honor duel. He does this precisely because he recognizes she is mentally unwell and that he can exploit this.

He goaded his sister into shooting lightning at him. Lightning which is lethal. While she’s comet boosted. Just so he can risk his life because a small mistake could fry his heart. So he can redirect it… nowhere? Potentially multiple times as she can possibly chain lightning while comet boosted. Why? What possible reason could he have to put himself in such a dangerous and fruitless scenario?

He was trying to kill her. Zuko has never been against killing.

He just changed sides.

And before you say “but he redeemed! He changed!” Yes.

I do know he changed. It’s what makes his arc so powerful. The fact that he was so willing to kill and invested in the war.

But he is still learning and he clearly didn’t realize that trying to kill his sister was wrong until she was chained up and sobbing. Only then did he finally see through Ozai’s manipulation pitting them against each other. She was never a monster. She wasn’t just the embodiment of everything he had failed to do, not just a living obstacle to overcome. She was also dad’s victim.

And in doing so, Zuko finally breaks the cycle of “brother killing brother” in their family that Iroh warned about.

It’s an incredible redemption story.

It only works if we admit Zuko was once a villain who did bad things and had selfish and sometimes cruel intent.

[susieandhobbes]

There's something so fun about the idea of Sydney and Richie getting closer in season 3 and Carmy just losing his entire mind because Sydney was his. She was his hire, his business partner, the only person who saw him separate from the history with Mikey. His little mind-meld, sentence-completing, unison-speaking cooking twin and why the fuck is she giving Richie samples for her menu ideas before talking to him?!

And I really don't mean this in a shipping way - the logical end result of the s2 finale is Carmy throwing himself headfirst into work and being like "HELLO SYDNEY I'M READY TO WORK NOW" but there's no way she'll be able to trust him because she basically had that trust shattered repeatedly for 3 months straight. But somehow, in the midst of their friends and family fiasco, Richie, WHO SHE STABBED, had her back? He brought her down from her panic and gave her the encouragement to pull it together and complete service.

Syd obviously has a wonderful relationship with Tina but Richie being really good at Expo, the thing that literally makes Sydney throw up, means they'll have something to work on together next season.

And Carmy will cry maybe idk

[jpitha]

Mercenaries

In the end, it wasn't about what the humans could do that the other sapient groups could not, it was about what the humans were willing to do.

The Gren war was a war of conquest. They had decided that they needed more room.

All of the races of the Coalition had similar environmental needs - the fact that they could live and work together was why there was a Coalition at all. The humans lived at one end of the habitable scale - higher gravity, more varied and intense weather, seasons - while the Sefigans lived at the other. The Gren occupied a space somewhat in the middle. Their word was less dense than the worlds the Humans preferred, and while they did have seasons, they were much less intense. Dex, their homeworld was older, and lighter than Earth.

The Sefigans on the other hand, evolved to thrive practically on a paradise. They had no seasons, their biomes were laughably similar, their days and nights were always exactly the same length. Outside of a few bands near the equator they didn't even have rain. Most humans that visited their world were put off by the sameness of every day. Human ambassadorial rotation was the shortest of the Coalition sapient groups - it was that maddening for them.

Seeing a ripe opportunity, the Gren launched a lightning attack two (earth) years after the humans joined the Coalition. Their large Warfinders would flash to Sefigan colony worlds, enter low orbit and demand surrender. If no surrender was forthcoming, they would bombard one or two cities and then land and take the rest with an invasion until they local authorities surrendered or were eliminated.

The human governments had decided to remain neutral. They were still the new sapient in the Coalition and didn't want to jeopardize their membership by taking the 'wrong' side. But that didn't mean that no humans fought...

****

Olivia, the leader of the group, sat down in the small Sefigan built chair - it was half again too small for her frame. It reminded her of sitting in the chairs in her niece's school. It was tough to have bravado and swagger when trying to contort into a tiny chair, but Olivia did her best.

"Commander Olivia, I still do not understand your offer." The Sefigan administrator said. The Sefigans were a small, furry species. They reminded the humans of something they called a 'teddy bear', though teddy bears did not tend to have 4 centimeter retractable claws.

"It's simple really, Administrator Wollruf. For a reasonable fee, my mercenaries and I will fight on your side. We will bring our equipment, experience and skill and fight the Gren in your name." Olivia tried to lean back, but the front legs of the chair tipped up and she swung her arms wildly to keep her balance. With a thud, the legs slammed back down and she smiled sheepishly.

Administrator Wollruf leaned forward. His office was well appointed, but small. and the humans that Commander Olivia had brought with her tended to loom. He was fascinated by the offer though. "You'll fight, for pay? Like a job?"

Olivia shrugged. "It is a job. Like any other. Some people build ships, others grow food. Me and my Obliterators?" She gestured to the two men behind her who grinned, showing their teeth "We fight."

"Why?"

"Why not? We're good at it, we like it, and it's an opportunity."

Administrator Wollruf's ears twitched and his fur rippled. "Opportunity? For what?"

Olivia smiled and spread her arms welcomingly. "For money. We - me and my team - would very much like to be rich, Administrator Wollruf. Hire us, and you will be safe, and we will be paid; half up front, half after the Gren leave."

"I will consult with the rest of Colonial Administration. We will give you our answer in one solar cycle." He stood. "Thank you for your offer, it is... interesting."

"We will wait one solar cycle for your answer, but-" she held up a finger. "Only one. We have other colonies to visit. If you do not wish to avail yourself of our services, there are other Sefigan colonies that might." Olivia and her two guards turned and left.

One half solar cycle later, the Obliterators were pinged. Administrator Wollruf's colonial government was willing to hire them to protect their colony. The next half cycle was spent negotiating the pay, and the deposit was given.

Not one twocycle later, a Gren Warfinder flashed into the system. As before, they took up station in low orbit, and demanded the surrender of the colony.

However, this time, before the Sefigan colony was forced to reply, Olivia's Obliterators flashed in. Their main ship was a former Imperial Dreadnought - older but well maintained - and was more than a match for the Warfinder. They engaged in pitched battle, and the Obliterators were able to drive off the Warfinder.

Two more Warfinders came within the next three cycles, and each time, the Obliterators drove them off. The Gren hadn't really anticipated any opposition from the Sefigans, let alone the humans, so they barely came prepared to fight. The Obliterators received their payment from the grateful colonial authorities, left a beacon stating that this system was under their protection, and flashed away to the next Sefigan colony for another payday.

The Gren had submitted a formal complaint to the Coalition stating that the humans were illegally 'interfering' in their war. The humans replied back that the Obliterators and any other mercenary groups were not affiliated with the government, and were purely independent operators. When the Gren asked where they got their equipment, the humans shrugged and pointed out that it was not illegal to sell mothballed and surplus equipment.

To their credit, it only took the Gren half a solar year to reach out and see if any human mercenary groups were willing to work for them.

Multiple groups replied back that they were happy to engage in negotiations... for the right price.

[hlficlibrary]

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🩷 Light, Spark and Fire (series) by green_feelings / @greenfeelings {E, 239k}

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

🩷 Say Something by @kingsofeverything {E, 105k}

At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

🩷 Ace of Spades (series) by @allwaswell16 {E, 90k}

Living as a sheltered omega in a farming village has not prepared Harry for life aboard the most notorious pirate ship to sail the Atlantic.

Or Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

🩷 The Pros and Cons of Breathing by @hellolovers13 {E, 81k}

Omega Harry has always known he'd be married off someday, so when he's betrothed to Prince Louis, he's anxious about having to leave his life behind, but hopeful for a happy marriage.

The hope doesn't last long, with his husband avoiding him at all costs and Harry being left to fend for himself.

Can he find happiness even in a broken marriage?

🩷 I like the way you say my name (when you soak it in grace) by louisismycat / @liminalkittyfics {E, 73k}

“It’s like I’m fucking orbiting around you, you know? Like you’re some huge, beautiful planet, and I’m a piece of space junk lucky enough to be pulled in by you somehow, and now I can’t leave, even if I wanted to. And I really fucking don’t want to leave.”

OR Louis is transferred to a new city to temporarily cover for his counterpart while he is on maternity leave for the next six months.

His new co-workers talk endlessly about Harry, the omega who he’s covering for. And Louis finds himself jealous of whatever alpha as snatched him up.

Until he learns Harry is actually an unmated omega three months out from becoming a single parent.

🩷 Si Pudiera Volar by @softfonds {E, 69k}

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazón Salvaje.

🩷 Little by Little by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {E, 65k}

Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes.

Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.

🩷 and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain {E, 56k}

Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. But things are not always what they seem and a past grievance may change the lives of everyone involved forever.

🩷 Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren {E, 42k}

Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

🩷 crown me with your heart (your love is king) by @perfectdagger {G, 41k}

The universe must’ve had a field day when it decided to plan Harry’s life. There was no plausible explanation for anything that happened in his life anymore. Try as he may, he would never be able to control his life nor predict what would happen next.What were the odds that the one person he was sure he had fallen in love with but had completely let him slip out of his life, already resigned to the fact nothing could ever evolve between them due to Harry’s future with Eroda, happened to be the same person who had Harry’s future in his hand?

A The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Wedding au in which Harry is the Crown Prince of the small island of Eroda and Louis’ uncle is trying to take the throne from him, with a slight a/b/o twist and some more.

🩷 Endgame by @brightgolden {E, 38k}

Harry has been told all his life how grateful he should be for being born as a male omega, and how blessed their people were because the heir to the throne would be carried by The King.

What they neglected to tell Harry was what would happen if he failed to become pregnant.

OR

Where omega Crown Prince Harry Styles is trying and failing to get pregnant for four years, but all that is about to change when courtesan alpha Louis Tomlinson comes into the equation.

🩷 You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter {M, 38k}

His mum is going to kill him!

Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something.

She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha.

But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater.

Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to.

He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

🩷 dip you in honey by delsicle / @eeveedel {E, 28k}

Princess Harry, the pearl of England, is set to be married to the youngest prince of France in just six months. Anxious about his performance on his wedding night, he enlists the help of his loyal handmaiden Louis to help him practice everything he needs to know

Omega/Omega AU

🩷 It's Been Ages by @2tiedships2 {NR, 13k}

“We need to talk,” Niall said as he plopped down on Louis’ bed. “It’s you and Harry. You like him, he likes you, it’s a match made in heaven and you will one day be mates,”

Louis shook his head in exasperation. “If you’ve been watching, you would see that Harry is interested in, like, alpha alphas. Not me.”

“What the fuck is an alpha alpha?” Niall asked with furrowed brows.

“You know what I mean,” Louis said, giving Niall a pointed look.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

🩷 I've Always Liked the Fireworks by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {T, 12k}

When alphas and omegas reach the age of twenty-one they are required to attend a Proving Day ceremony. Omegas watch as alphas do their best to compete in events, show off their skills, and prove how good a mate they can really be. The whole thing is a bit ridiculous, but Louis Tomlinson has always dreamed of finding his mate. He's got two unsuccessful Sheffield Proving Days under his belt and decides to go for the much more competitive one in Manchester. His goal is to play his best, leave it all out on the pitch, and hope that one of the omegas watching just happens to be his mate.

🩷 Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic {E, 12k}

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

🩷 Just Jump by @jaerie {E, 9k}

Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

🩷 a body wishes to be held & held by @turnyourankle {E, 9k}

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.

🩷 How Much My Heart Depends by @lululawrence {NR, 6k}

Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.

🩷 As one we are everything/We are everything we need by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992 {M, 5k}

Harry finally marries the love of his life. He's got the mating mark, he's got Louis' ring on his finger.

And now, he's on his honeymoon. Louis is but a door away, waiting for him.

Honestly, he doesn't understand why he's nervous.

[blainesebastian]

something real

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

“You’re losing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the gigolo’s name?”

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

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

--

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So your request said a wedding?”

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

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

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

“Have you…done weddings before?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet—

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

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

“Okay,” Austin smiles, “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you can’t help but grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he’s already a decent actor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because why the hell not?

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

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

“Challenge accepted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not sure you want to know.

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

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

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

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

“What do you want to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because we match.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t move.”

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

“A lot of beige.”

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

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

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

“It’s just not what I pictured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get your shoes. We’re already late.”

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

But you do.

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe this is all in your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then it has to come from you first.”

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

You almost wish that was the case, instead.

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

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

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

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

It's all a lie.

A lie that you paid for.

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

“Todd.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a couple her and Todd make.

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

Just feels like a big mistake.

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

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

--

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

What if all of this is one weird dream?

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

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

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

“In that order? That’s so boring.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You stayed.”

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

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

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

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

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

You’re just glad you didn’t vomit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He waits.

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

Then it has to come from you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You finally figure out what you want—

and you want this. You want him.

--

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

Y/N: I think I messed up.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: I can’t, he’s still here

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

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

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

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

Jill: so what is the point?

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

“Y/N?” Austin asks, “You alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—

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

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

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

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

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

“No—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can’t possibly leave like this, right?

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

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

You don’t go after him.

--

Time goes on.

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

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

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

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

“I got your twenty texts, you alright?”

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

“I screwed up.”

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

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

“Damn, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe not missing, exactly, but lying dormant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not again.

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

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

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

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

It’s his turn.

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

He doesn’t come after you.

--

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

“No,” You crinkle your nose.

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

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

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

And blink because—

“Austin.”

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

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

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

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

Maybe not heal, scar at the very least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you blink, “What?”

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

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

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

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

When you don’t—

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

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

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

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

[brucewaynehater101]

Oh he absolutely would feed into the rumor that Tim and Red Robin are dating. He mentions in an interview that he's in a Poly relationship with at least two men but he can't say their names because he's worried about their saftey, after all they're in a relationship with a successful business man who lives in *Gothem*. He actually means Kon and Brenard (or whoever you ship him with) but everyone is like "oh he's 100% dating Red Robin." And at the family dinner he was forced to attend he is very smug about having the most air tight secret identity while also tying hos two lives together very tightly. No one will ever question why Tim walked into a closet and Red Robin walked out a few minutes later. Clearly they were trying to sneak in a make out session in the closet.

Also there are of course some who still won't take Tim up on the offer of their civilian persona being hired by DI so instead Tim just says, "... what if they hire your hero persona?" And it works shockingly well. Tim does not care, he just doesn't want them to suffer because heroing doesn't pay any bills.

As for how he keeps it all legal, he simply argues that they are supporting themselves! He's not just *handing* them money they're helping him with coding and other things! Money is being exchanged for services, nothing more and nothing less. Why is he paying them so much for doing Not A Lot? Well, he's Timothy Drake and Timothy Drake pays all his workers very well, no matter who they are or what their job is! That hero is making exactly the same and everyone else working in that field at his company! If they moved to the lab he would give them exactly what his scientists get and if they moved behind a desk, they would get exactly the same as a receptionist.

You're so valid for Tim not acknowledging who he's dating, but very much so implying that it's Red Robin. I bet he gets a kick out of all the fanart and fanfics that spring up after he doesn't outright deny their relationship.

I'm sure Tim is working within the legal loopholes, and I love your idea too. To add on, "Timothy Drake" has no clue who under his employ is a hero or not. Red Robin suggests a bunch of people all the time. How is Tim supposed to know who's a vigilante and who isn't? He runs a company, not solve cases.

If anyone questions him even more about it (like how the hell such a successful business owner is so dumb they can't figure out who's under the masks from the pool of people Red Robin suggests), Tim can play up a persona of being a love-stricken fool for Red Robin.

Cops: "Which of your employees are working outside of the law?"

Tim: *knows that's probably 70% of his employees* "Not sure. As long as they don't break any laws while on the clock, I wouldn't know."

Cops: "We know Red Robin suggests vigilantes' civilian identities for you to hire."

Tim: "Does he? That seems like a lot of vigilantes. He's connected me to hundreds of great people to hire."

Cops: "Fine. Only some of them are vigilantes."

Tim: "Okay?"

Cops: "Tell us who under your employ are vigilantes."

Tim: "I don't know. Why are you asking me?"

Cops: "So, you just hire whoever Red Robin tells you to?"

Tim: "Not whoever, but when he tells me to do something..." *proceeds to stare into space with a smile*

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Hello! Would you do a mild angst Buggy x Reader fic? With some fluff at the end? Where Buggy and Reader where a fling back in the day when she suddently disapeared. When raiding a village one day years later he meets a boy that looks like the perfect mix of him and his former lover- finding out that he's his son and she died long ago? Her only legacy was this boy.

Buggy as a father omg AHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭

---

One Night

It wasn't enough searching the seas on his own, he wanted to deploy every ship possible. He wanted to dive into the depths of the ocean even if it paralysed him just so he could find the truth about your disappearance. It pulled apart his mind like no other trauma he had ever faced. He drank till he could see the stars or if he was lucky, your face. As a pirate captain, he had been with endless women. Faces he never recognized, voices that never mattered because all they ever did was hold him for the night but you.

He pushed away from the railing, he wanted to scream, to throw this bottle in his hands and break it into shards. His tears weren't enough, he tugged on those gloves as if they were his armour, preventing his fingers from yearning for your warmth. You were the one that slipped away.

A young merchant by a seaside port he had docked once. He had come by your stall demanding you hand over your wages when you stood your ground, looked him in the eye and said no. His henchmen cracked their knuckles behind him as they edged closer but he remembered his hand shooting up, telling them to stop because something within him had shifted.

Noticing his intrigue you had brokered a deal with him instead. To trade all your hand made lanterns instead of the money because no one was buying them and there was no room for you to stock them anymore.

He tilted his head, all the signs pointing towards the fact that you were closing down your shop.

"I have no need for your lanterns.", He scoffed but you shrugged your shoulders, continuing to wipe the glass in your hands.

His crew began to murmur and laugh behind you at your audacity.

"I have a need for the money I've earned. You seem to be doing well for yourself.", you responded looking behind him at his ship and his crew.

He couldn't understand you. You were at his mercy but why was he feeling like he was at yours?

You were an enigma, a map he couldn't read and that was enough of a challenge for him to concoct a plan. Although a pirate, his life was mundane. The same raids, the same celebrations but you were a spark. A different colour he had never seen.

"That is true.", he rolled back on his heels as a smile threatened to spread across his face.

"You can keep your money.", he said turning to catch your eyes again, he heard the silent gasp amongst his crew mates. He had never been this generous before.

"But I would like to hire your services.", he spoke picking up one of your glass lanterns. It puzzled you, you stopped what you were doing as you focused on him, your nervousness now turning into confusion.

"What for?", you asked.

"My circus lights are in need of an upgrade and the quality of your glass is spectacular, along with it's workmanship.", he held the glass up to the light to inspect it.

"I need you to replace all the lights on the ship.", he looked at you and you gasped.

All the lights on the ship, that was two months of work plus the wages. You didn't have to go to bed hungry. Pirate or not, it was honest work and you needed it. So without making him wait for long, you took up the offer.

"When do I start?", you asked.

"The sooner the better.", he hummed flashing you a smile and for second you forgot who he was.

The beauty about the circus was the magic and he embodied it. Never letting you know who he was, elusive like a rabbit in a hat, here one moment, gone the next.

But with every day you boarded the gaudy vessel by the docks, you grew to understand there was more to him. The quiet nights you spent when the town and crew were asleep, to screw on the bulbs and fuse the glass pieces. He kept you company. He wouldn't talk much, but he snuck glances at you and you did the same.

The distance between you, lessened as the days went by and soon he was seated by your side holding up the tools you needed. His soft eyes gazing into yours before looking away. This was a side no one could witness cause he had it sealed. This version of him wasn't up for display.

The nights had become his favourite now, he didn't have to utter a word, make up a joke, exert his authority, he could just sit by your side and listen to sound of the waves. Watch you mix the colours and bring to life the ideas in your head just like he did with his shows and strategies. He didn't have to peel away his clothes to feel seen, your knowing smile after he pulled a stunt or threw a tantrum was enough.

But it was when you had told him it wasn't his fault for all the hurt he carried, after a night he had a little too much to drink and began to writhe in his self hatred, you were there. To hold him up, to quiten these thoughts that were loud in his head and though his vision was blurry, he could never forget the moment you had kissed him then.

You did in the hopes that when he woke up the next morning he would have forgotten about it, but the days after that he looked at you like he had remembered all of it.

It was the final night, the ship rocked gently but the deck was alive. Your lights brought a new life to this ship, it's crew smiling for the first time since you've been here and while you stood in the middle admiring your work, yours eyes found his. There up by the helm, his head resting in his hands with his eyes set only on you.

That was the night, you could never forget. The truth behind you shutting down your shop was not because of poor sales but because you were sick. Only you knew, and you were set to spend the money you had travelling or doing good of some kind, to leave a mark before your time had come.

So this was perfect. Your lanterns would adorn this ship always. You didn't want to bring down the mood of everyone around, so you held this moment to yourself. Nothing could top this feeling of satisfaction.

You stood by the railing, looking out at the sea, the waters dancing under the moonlight and the soft colourful glow from the ship, when he bumped his shoulder gently into yours.

"I feel like we've become friends after all this time.", he said sweetly and you smiled. It was true, he had become your friend. The only man who made you laugh.

But the moment his eyes lingered on yours it was as if he could read your sadness, he jutted his chin towards you in a manner of asking you what was wrong but you shook your head to put him at ease.

"Just that this is my last day on this beautiful ship.", you pushed away to spin around as soft music played. When you came to a halt, your smile so full on your face that when you saw him looking at you, you were certain he was in love. In love with you.

Your tried to hide the sinking feeling but he only made it worse by walking towards you to catch your hands in his, guiding you into a dance that the warmth in his gloves felt soothing from the cold of the night.

"You've made it beautiful.", he said confidently and it stung you. The truth you knew, that you didn't have all the time to offer him.

"You'll always be welcome here.", he continued and you could gauge where this was going.

"Buggy.", you whispered his name, trying to interrupt him but your heart didn't. When would be the next time you would feel loved? You didn't know. So you stayed, documenting his words so that you carry it with you till the end.

"In fact I feel it's time I come clean about about our deal.", He said and his eyes reflected the colour of the lights.

"Somewhere in between these two months, from the first moment I saw you, I've fallen in love with you.", he said, the rhythm picking up in the song that he twirled you around as though you were a star and he was your admirer.

You forgot about the pain in your life and let your heart roam free. Just for this night. When morning came you will cage it and disappear.

You danced around him, escaping from his hold because you couldn't tell him you had fallen for him too. Because that would break him. But he reached for you again, his hands pulling your arms to him that now you couldn't evade him any longer. A vacuum settling over him and you drowning out the music as you gazed into his eyes.

"Say something.", he laughed nervously as though he had put his entire life on the line.

"I cannot offer you an eternity.", you spoke, your smile dying away.

"but I can give you one night.", you let your fingers hold the sides of his face and watched him unravel.

"One night of your love?", he questioned and you nodded your head, sure that he was going to laugh at you.

"That is more love than I've ever received in my life.", he flashed smile just like yours, one mixed with peace and melancholy.

With that he pulled you in, his lips kissing you where he pleased as he stubbled along with you into his quarters, kicking his boots off like he was a drunken sailor, taking you with him as he fell into the bed.

One night, that changed the course of your lives.

Now those memories won't die, in fact they insisted on pestering him, drowning him in the frustration that your words were something he could never hear again.

"Captain, land up ahead.", his crewmate approached him.

"What do you want me to do with that information?", he barked back angrily.

"Do we put down our anchor or pass it by?", the boy answered nervously.

Buggy looked at the island, the lights near the docks reminding him of you again. He groaned.

"Raid it, you fools!", he ordered, stomping away to the helm.

--

The citizens were wary of his arrival. They scattered away from him as he walked down the streets. Everyone left, except for a little boy. He was by the street corner, juggling glass lanterns as he balanced himself on a unicycle. Buggy stopped in his tracks, the boy's face resembling yours and his dark blue hair looking a lot like his.

"Do we burn down the town?", a deckhand asked him.

"Go back to the ship.", Buggy ordered leaving his crew in confusion. They were reluctant to act on his word that he turned back to yell at them. Telling them to leave.

As they went away, he approached the boy.

"Good day to you, sir. Would you like to see a magic trick?", the boy beamed at him.

Buggy fought back tears, as he crouched down.

"I would.", he said softly and watched as the boy pulled out a card, he tried to hide the card within his tiny fingers to then flip it around quickly to hold up a golden coin instead.

Buggy's heart stopped. The gold coin wasn't an ordinary coin. It carried the seal of his Jolly Roger. One given to crew mates and friends as a means to let people know that they were under his protection.

He tried to take it from the kid but the boy closed his fists on it and drew it back.

"I can't give it to you, sir. It was my mother's.", he stared Buggy down. His eyes the same as yours that Buggy couldn't help but let out a knowing laugh.

"Do you know that coin could fetch you a lot of berry, boy?", he asked to which the boy grew silent, his eyes falling to the floor as sadness seeped into his tiny face.

"I know. But my mother said if I kept it safe, my father will come in search for me.", his sweet words broke through Buggy's facade.

"Where is she?", he asked instantly, wanting to take you and your son home with him. He looked around the market, his heart picking up it's pace in the hopes that he could see you once again.

"She's not here. She's gone home to the clouds, that's what the doctor told me. She can't come back from there.", he heard the boy say and understood what it meant that he broke down to sit on the dirt road. The innocence in the boy's face now replaced with a grief he was too young to understand.

Buggy reached for the lanterns the boy owned, it looked similar to the ones you had made.

"Would you like to buy them? I know how to make more of those.", the boy chirped, his eyes looking up at Buggy with the expectation of making money.

Now that made him feel like he was looking straight into a mirror, he smiled.

"Did your mother tell you about your father?", he asked only for the boy to jump up.

"Oh yes. He owned a huge ship. Travelled across all the seas, fought bad guys and sea monsters. He also had blue hair just like me.", The kid said with evident excitement.

Buggy reminisced your presence, that you left your mark in everything and everyone. That even now, you had made sure the boy knew him as someone good and that was how you had seen him. Buggy met the expectant eyes of the boy and slowly removed his captain's hat.

"Blue hair like mine?", he asked and watch the gears turn in his head.

The kid reached for his hat to run his finger over the crest. Placing the coin next to it, he drew in a gasp. It was a match. The crest was the same as the one on the coin. Buggy prepared himself to explain more, but all he felt was the sudden force with which the child ran into his arms. He wrapped his hands around him and Buggy knew he was never going to be the same again.

"You came. You came for me.", the boy cried and Buggy couldn't help but let the tears he held back roll down his cheek.

He had found you, a part of you and that was all he could ask for.

He wiped away the tears as he carried the boy.

"Now come on, I've got to show you my ship.", he said with a dramatic flair as he walked down the street with his son in his arms.