#another took me to a painting and wine testing thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eruden-writes · 2 years ago

Note

"I didnt know where else to go" pleasee

Okay, this doesn't exactly follow the trope. I'm sorry! Hopefully it's still enjoyable.

Also, weirdly, it ended up being another vampire x human. XD

🩸🍷🧛‍♂️🦇🧄

It was a dark and stormy night when she came pounding on his door. One wouldn’t believe a vampire lord would answer his own door. Surely, he had a servant or butler for such trivial things. Yet there he was, standing in the open entryway, a crystal chalice of blood - or red wine - in one hand and swathed in a robe of fine green silk.

Momentarily dumbstruck, Nikita stared up at Lord Ambrose DuBois of Sanguinary, known he/they, feeling her stomach somersault. Tall and pale with white curls coiffed fashionably and sharp green eyes on her, she couldn’t help but feel small. It was a strange feeling considering how most people were smaller than her, if not in height then in body. The sensation made her drenched cloak and dress weigh even heavier atop her.

“My apologies, m’lord. I was gath-gathering herbs in the woods when the st-storm rolled in.“ A tremble coursed over her body, beneath her rain-drenched clothes. Lowering her gaze, she stared blankly at a stone in the wall. “The-then a g-group of men began following me, s-saying unsavory th-things.”

Testing the waters, Nikita peeked up at the man. He appeared unmoved, head cocked as if he were waiting for her to get to her point. Weakly, Nikita mumbled, “My apologies, again. Your castle was cl-close and I-I didn’t know where else to go.”

Ambrose stared down at the woman, his face impassive. Slowly, he raised his chalice to his lips, cocking a dark eyebrow down at her. After a leisurely sip while Nikita trembled, he finally addressed her. “I do not recognize you.”

NIkita’s eyebrows furrowed, confused by his words. “My lord?”

“I know every inhabitant of my realm,” Ambrose stated, his head tilting to the side. His expression still hadn’t changed, making Nikita feel as if she was being eyed by a particularly unimpressed cat. He stooped closer to her, his words coming out in a short, pointed staccato as he added, “And yet, you are unfamiliar.”

“You c-could not possibly know everyone.” Nikita smiled awkwardly as her lips trembled, trying not to cringe away from him.

“I assure you, I do.” Something in Ambrose’s eyes - a glint, a spark, something - made her heart sink. He couldn’t possibly know the real reason she was there, could he? Whatever had flashed in his gaze dissipated as he stood straight, once again reinstating a safe distance. “You may enter. Follow me to my study.”

Before she stepped onto the marble, Nikita squeaked, “But I’ll drip everywhere.”

With a sharp motion, he turned to her. He stared intently for a breath, eyeing her up and down, before saying. “Yes, you will. Come along now.”

And that was it. Lord Ambrose turned his back to her, continuing his effortless glide down the corridor. It took Nikita a moment to gather her wits and finally cross the threshold into the manor. Slowly, she shut the heavy door behind her before trailing after the vampire lord.

In silence, he led her through the halls and she cast furtive glances around. It wasn’t the dusty dark keep she expected nor was it overly furnished with riches. True, there were paintings and the odd statue or potted plant, but overall it was rather plain. There were fairy lanterns in place of candles and torches, which was a sign of wealth but also a safety precaution. Fire could kill vampires, after all, so the fewer sources the less danger. Then again, most beings scorched under a flame.

Finally, after traversing through the maze of halls and up a staircase, Ambrose pushed a door and led Nikita into a room.

Fire crackled in an ornate fireplace and warmed the air. Bookcases lined the walls, each filled to the brim with books and papers. More tomes laid scattered about the floor and tables, some open and others bearing an array of bookmarks. Knickknacks and mechanisms and rolled-up scrolls littered other shelves, likely for further study and cross-reference, but she wasn’t exactly sure.

Near the fireplace sat a chaise, a plush chair, and an end table upon which another book laid. As Ambrose made his way to the chair, Nikita wondered if he had been reading when she knocked. Considering how long they walked, he must have raced to answer the door.

That thought made her stomach flip, mentally noting ‘supernatural speed’ in her mental file for Ambrose DuBois.

Turning her attention back to the room, Nikita narrowed her eyes. It felt more like a library than a simple study to her, but she didn’t say anything. There was just too much in the room, too much to see, for her to formulate any words. Driven to the warmth, she shuffled further into the room, closer to the fire.

Once she was well within the room, Ambrose gave a lazy wave of his hand. Behind her, the door thumped shut. Another warning bell went off in her head, but she tried to ignore it. All of the rumors involving Ambrose were a far cry from the corset-ripping terrors she heard elsewhere.

That thought flew from her head when Ambrose’s deep voice spoke once more. “Strip.”

“Excuse me?” Her head snapped to him as indignant anger flared through her. At her throat, keeping her cloak closed, her hand tightened.

“Get out of those wet clothes. You may place them near the fire.” Ambrose didn’t seem to notice her outrage. With a languid gesture of his hand, he motioned toward the roaring fire. “I’m sure you’ll move much easier in whatever slayer garb you’re wearing underneath.”

Everything in Nikita stilled as she stared at Ambrose. Little to no change in his expression. Ease emanated around him as he sat perched on his chair, legs crossed at the knee and goblet still in hand. His attention seemed to shift to his drink as he took a sip.

Cold and with the cloth weighing down on her, Nikita decided to follow his guidance. She shucked the cloak and dress from her body, leaving the dry leather armor, tunic, and trousers on. She tossed the outerwear onto a rack situated close to the fire, presumably for this very purpose. All the while, she kept Ambrose in her line of sight.. “How did you know?”

“Your hair is cropped short for battle, since long hair can be a liability,” he sighed, not even hesitating to answer her question. Her hand jumped to her hair, tugging at the short ash brown strands and wondering whether he only noticed once her cloak was off or if he knew earlier. “The garlic tonic you have on your belt is not stoppered properly, I can smell it. Along with the specially crafted vampire stakes made of cedar wood.”

Nikita’s hand went to her belt where a vial of the aforementioned garlic tonic hung. Her thumb played with the cork stopper, but she could not tactilely find anything wrong with it. At her opposite hip, the stakes hung, feeling heavier now that they were out in the open.

“You may as well throw the garlic. It will have no effect on me.” Finally, the mask of indifference that Ambrose wore broke. A droll smile curved at his lips, making Nikita swallow as her heart stuttered. How did one tell if a vampire’s influence had tainted their thoughts and body?

As Nikita’s thoughts raced with curiosity, Ambrose continued. “Any silver on your person will do you much better. It burns my skin, though my pain tolerance is rather high.”

Her thoughts spun to the silver cross - a blade in disguise - stuffed along the side of her boot. He had easily inventoried her main weapons against him. Being found out so easily brought a bite to Nikita’s previously timid voice, “Forgive me if I do not believe a word you say.”

“As you wish.” Ambrose shrugged, placing his empty chalice on the table beside his chair.

“What now?” Her question shot off more like a demand as her shoulders tensed, prepared for an abrupt attack. “Why invite a slayer into your home?”

“Boredom, mostly. Though I do have a proposition.” With a push, Ambrose hefted himself gracefully from the chair. His smile seemed to inch wider, Nikita thought as she caught the barest hint of his pointed fangs. “I will allow your attempt to slay me. In turn, I will attempt to bed you.”

“Why would I agree to that?” She spat, backing away from the approaching vampire.

“I daresay, it is more than a fair arrangement.” That placid smile lingered at his lips as he continued to follow her.

After three steps, Nikita freed a stake from her holster, angling it at the man. “I try to kill you and you try to rape me?”

“I never said I’d force myself on you.” The brandishing of the stake didn’t even make Ambrose pause. He merely glanced at it, something calculating in his gaze, before continuing the slow pursuit.

It was like being stalked by a mountain lion, Nikita thought. He followed her lazily, as if he were playing with her, and she continued to back around the room in an arc, stake at the ready.

“Hypnotism counts as coercion,” she snapped, a frown curving deep across her lips. It was no secret how vampires often coaxed a pretty partner to their bed. Or how they convinced humans to willingly extend their throat beneath their fangs. Enthrallment.

“Oh, I agree. There is no delight in such a tactic.” Still undeterred, Ambrose followed after her. “I will only go so far as you desire.”

Agitation razed over Nikita’s back. He had to think she was a joke. He certainly didn’t find her to be an iota of a threat, given the topic of their conversation. Ignoring the embarrassed heat that bit across her cheeks, Nikita snarled, “Then I’ll just keep telling you no until I kill you.”

“I don’t believe you will.” His chuckle burned down her spine.

“Why do you believe that?”

“You are no born slayer. There is too much curiosity in those dark eyes.” The way Ambrose’s eyes softened, his voice quieting a little, made her shudder. Nikita continued to back away, but now he was approaching faster, more confidently. “You are intrigued how I know all my citizens and why no one within my borders has sought to kill me.”

The distance between them was shortening, but she couldn’t understand why. It felt like her body dragged as he continued forward. “I am sure you have heard the rumors, as well. Of graciousness, my kindness, my understanding.”

Everything he said was true. She was curious to know why only outsiders were hiring hits on Lord DuBois, why no one within the borders seemed to mind his presence. At first, she thought it was a powerful enthrallment, perhaps even a spell or sorcery. Yet no matter who she encountered, what de-spelling she did, all the civilians under DuBois’s rule seemed content.

“You’re interested in learning how I’ve made so many believe such farcities, no?” Another assertion, another step forward, another inch lost between them.

He was getting too close, saying things that made Nikita’s head spin while simultaneously feeling as if they were humiliating slaps to her face. With a sudden yell and a lunge forward, she brought the stake to the fleshy part of his stomach and pushed. It sunk into the vampire with a sickening squelch, driven farther by survival instinct.

Ambrose’s green eyes flickered from Nikita’s face to the shaft of sharpened wood jutting out of his gut. As his eyes swung slowly back up to her face, his hands clasped over hers. He held her hands to the stake and took a forceful step forward, driving the wood deeper in.

It felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest, her lungs locking up as Ambrose took another step forward. A confused whimper bubbled up from her throat when her blood slickened hands pressed firmly to his abdomen.

“I don’t believe you have it in you to kill me,” he breathed, stooping closer toward her. Nikita jerked as his splayed hand touched her cheek, his absurdly cool flesh stinging her flushed features. Ambrose slid his hand to the back of her head, guiding her head back with the pressure of his fingertips and no more. In her chest, her heart thrummed hard, watching as a smile split fully across the vampire’s lips. His fangs on full display, stark white against his pale flesh.

Her skin burned as his thumb skirted over her bottom lip. Ambrose drew closer, the scent of the wine he’d been drinking tainting the air between them.

Before Nikita could even think to say anything, a bothered expression suddenly passed over the vampire’s face. Pulling back, his gaze flickered to the stake protruding from his gut.

“Oh, damnation. This was one of my favorite robes.” Ambrose sighed, shaking his head as one hand pressed to the stained green fabric. When he pulled his hand away, his palm was coated with thick dark blood. “Allow me to change into something else.”

Leaving Nikita’s thoughts in freefall, Ambrose pulled away and headed toward the door. Acting on automatic impulse, she returned to her still soaking cloak, wiping the blood free of her hands. All the while, her brain tried valiantly to recalibrate itself. This man, this vampire, had thoroughly frazzled her thoughts.

It seemed he wasn’t done, yet. With a snap of his fingers, paused in the door and turned back to Nikita. Her gaze met him across the empty expanse of the study. “Ah, before we go any further, may I get your name and designation?”

For a long stretch of time, she silently stared at him. If he felt awkward under her attention, he made no indication. Within her, a battle waged between sense and curiosity. There was no good reason to tell him her name. None whatsoever.

And yet she found herself answering him, too intrigued to be cautious. “Nikita Berunai, she/they.”

Once more, a broader smile overtook the placid grin that usually settled over the vampire lord’s lips. In spite of his injury, Ambrose bowed to her, one arm folded behind his back. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nikita Berunai.”

With that, he straightened and spun away. Presumably to go change into something he didn’t care about ruining. Nikita stared at the spot he had been, her mind still struggling to understand what exactly happened.

Killing a vampire was supposed to be straightforward. Catch them unawares and stake them, unless they found you out, in which case there should have been a fight, a struggle, and then a stake to the heart. Or fangs to the throat, she supposed, but she didn’t want to think about that.

Hands cleaned of blood, she stumbled to the chaise lounge and settled upon it. Pressing a palm to her own cheek, she realized her flush still burned fervently at her face. Glancing to the door again, her mind began chugging carefully around newly placed thoughts. Nikita hated to admit it, but he was right. From the start, she was damnably curious about Lord Ambrose DuBoi, beloved vampire lord of Sanguinary. And now that interest burned in her thoughts as something Nikita didn’t want to name scalded her center.

#vampire #exo writing #exophilia #trope requests #vampire x human #vampire x hunter #monster lover #monster men #monster fucker #“but I'll drip everywhere” “yes you will” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)#did you catch that? lol #nikita #ambrose

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beiq2y · 2 years ago

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YOUNG! RAG BRO HEADCANON(not kaeluc)

(Warnings : wine, drinking( wine testing), the drink ‘death after noon’)

In which diluc has hated alcohol since even before his father’s death, he simply just detested the taste of it.

So young bartender! Diluc who is exploring different and new mixes of drinks, refusing to taste even a single drop and using his brother Kaeya as his Guinea pig instead!

At first, Kaeya wasn’t a huge fan of the alcoholic taste, but if it was frm big brother diluc? It was heaven-sent.

Builds a high alcohol tolerance so that he can drink multiple concoctions at once, and is constantly giving diluc feedback!!

❋—❋—❋

“Hmm i really like this one brother! It has a really elegant taste and all, definitely one of your best,” Kaeya begins, taking yet another sip of diluc’s latest creation.

Sparkling white wine and dandelion wine had been mixed together, creating an especially potent drink. But Kaeya couldn’t get drunk - he wouldn’t! Especially not when his beloved brother needed his sober feedback.

“Is that so? Well then maybe a small sip wouldn’t hurt..” Diluc muttered to himself, wrapping his fingers around the wine glass in his brother’s hand. He exuded elegance and class as he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a quick sip of his so-called “best creation”.

But there was nothing very elegant about the way Diluc’s face instantly contorted into a look of absolute disgust - his eyebrows furrowed as a grimace made its way to his lips.

“I really don’t understand how people drink things like.. that. Really, why drink alcohol when grape juice is right here. Same taste, same quality, but without all that.. bitter nonsense,” Diluc huffed, downing himself in grape juice to wash out the taste from his mouth.

“Now now, that possibly can’t be the behaviour of one of the best bartenders I know?” Kaeya hummed, a teasing tone underlining his words. “But, whatever you say brother! If you insist grape juice is better, I suppose we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

He gently took the wine glass back from Diluc, running his finger over the rim of the glass as he pondered silently. For such a profound drink, it most certainly deserved a title worthy of its honour. Glancing out the window, he observed the setting of the sun as it’s rays began to disappear, painting the sky a sweet pink. Ah, how he adored the afternoon sky. And with that thought, his eyes shot up, eager to share his idea with his brother.

“Brother, what do you think about naming this drink ‘Love at Noon’? It certainly does give that aura if you ask me!” Kaeya proposed, nudging diluc’s shoulder gently, to which the red-haired man only groaned.

“I really don’t see where the love in this comes to play. Just a sip of that and you’ll be dropping dead. ‘Death at Noon’ sounds much more appropriate for the drink,” The older of the two grumbled, going for a refill of his favourite fruit juice, mumbling something along the lines of how ‘he could still taste it on his tongue.’

“Ah, but Death at Noon sounds so depressing, brother! What about death after noon, hm? Then we can save Love at Noon for another one of your other drinks!” Kaeya mused, letting out a satisfied hum as he drank the last bit of his wine.

“Well, I supposed it isn’t a bad name. It’ll do,” Diluc gave his nod of approvement, and with that, ‘Death after Noon’ was created.

❋—❋—❋

A/n : BYE im dead. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JS A SMALL HEADCANON FRM B4 THE SEPARATOR. But then i decided i wanted a small scenario and it ended up becoming 500+ words.. and i wrote it on tumblr and i was scared i wld lose my progress so i copy pasted every para of this to my notes app individually 💀 I HOPE U ENJOYED THIS BTW!! Also MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLS! Sorry i didnt write a Christmas special and vomited this instead LMAOAOAO

kaeluc shipper dni

©beiq2y on tumblr, 2k22. Pls do not steal or repost my works!

#beiq2y #ragbros #diluc angst #kaeya angst #ragnvindr brothers #i need them to become brothers again im dead #genshin impact hcs #Diluc fluff #kaeya fluff #rag bros #if they dont interact soon im gna lose it #genshin hcs #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin imagines

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gayvillainera · 2 years ago

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💙 for Danbecca? :D

Hello anon, I'm so sorry this took me 2 weeks to get to but I finally finished this!!

Drunken kiss/tipsy - fairly tame but cw for (obviously) alcohol

She’d wanted the ritual of it, silly as it may have been. It was why she’d gone through all the trouble to order the bottle of wine, something sparkling but not proper Champagne, nothing anyone would question in the monthly budgets.

But after the shipwright had left and she’d retrieved the bottle from where she’d stashed it away in the boathouse, she’d found herself frozen on the pier. She hefted the bottle in her hand, feeling its weight, and thought of the other half of the superstition. If the bottle broke, the strength of the boat was proven and good fortune would follow. If the bottle doesn’t break, misfortune will follow the vessel and its sailor for the rest of their lives – short or long as they may be.

It was a naïve thing to believe in, but it would have been more naïve to trust that only the good was true. And this boat was the first thing that was hers, the first thing that her parents or Max or the endless trails of men wouldn’t be able to stick their fingers into. She’d paid for it with the allowance she was afforded from the increased sales of the public tours, years of work too long and involved to put into the hands of fate and whichever glassblower had produced such a sturdy bottle.

So she’d called Danny from the dusty house phone in the boathouse. Steady, skeptical Danny; Danny who had taken good care not to touch her childhood good-luck charms; Danny who had soothed nightmares and fancies alike with her calm words and unflinching hands.

Not ten minutes later, she was picking her way down the beach path, and Rebecca’s chest immediately felt lighter upon seeing her.

When she at last reached the pier, Danny raised an eyebrow at her, smiled at the boat. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.”

She eyed the bottle in Rebecca’s hands. “Right. I also brought this – I figured you may have forgotten,” she said, producing a small glass from her bag. All wrong for a sparkling wine, but strong enough to survive being carried to the shore, and perfect.

This was easiest. This was best. This was fate intervening, in the form of ever-capable Danny, no need for the extra test of the bottle. Rebecca accepted the glass.

“Did you bring another?”

With a small look of surprise, Danny pulled out another glass and a small knife for the foil.

“I didn’t want to presume.”

“You should presume more often. It’s very becoming.”

A half hour later, they’d emptied half the bottle. Danny had taken a respectable pour and Rebecca had handled the rest, so that now as she skipped down the pier Danny hurried behind her, one hand out to catch her if she were to fall.

But Rebecca was surefooted as ever, resplendent in her excitement about the new boat. “I’m going to have you order a small can of paint so I can letter on the name. I’ve decided I’m going to call her Je Reviens.” She nodded. Somewhere between her second and third pour of wine, she’d realized that she would make her own fate. Superstition, like everything else in her life, would bend to her for once.

“That’s a fine name.”

“Of course it is.” She turned abruptly, and Danny was there – so close, looking slightly out of place on the beach but all the more beautiful for the wind ruffling her hair and the pink of her cheeks – and Rebecca felt a sudden brightness in her.

“Danny,” she murmured. “There’s one more thing.”

Danny didn’t move even as she danced closer, closer.

“What do you need, Rebecca?”

“Kiss me. For good fortune. For the Je Rev—”

But she did not finish the words, for Danny met her where she stood, catching her lips with a hunger, a hope, as though she would catch the moment before it fled. And Rebecca tilted into her, warm and certain that this was what she’d needed. Everything would be perfect now.

When she pulled back, there was a new flush in Danny’s cheeks, a dangerous spark in her eye, and for a half-moment Rebecca realized what she might have done. But she let the gentle tide of the alcohol take her back under as soon as she’d thought it. No doubts now, no fears of unbroken promises. No one else’s hopes tainting this day. She closed her eyes and kissed Danny on the cheek, sweet and safe and casual as she could manage.

This time, when she reopened her eyes, Danny’s face was arranged more carefully, her smile careful and indulgent.

Yes. She could have it all: the wine, the beautiful Je Reviens, and her good fortune to boot. Her lips buzzed, but that – well, that was perhaps something to have another day. She would be satisfied for now.

#rebecca das musical #danbecca #rebecca de winter #mrs danvers #my fic

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kissedbruises · 1 year ago

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continuation from before @bcbyteeth VENUE 004. ・.・― MILSON ISLAND AFTER PARTIES

Emersyn took the liquor to her mouth, a roll of her eyes as she kept a painted smile on her face. Always appear charming, always appear pretty. It wasn't hard for her - she had been taught to do exactly that her entire life, but her brother certainly tested every ounce of her persona, that was for sure. She didn't know much about the relationship between Roman and his mother - only that it was strained, and Emersyn liked to poke at that. Regardless, it would be fun to invite her here to Los Angeles, only to watch the surprise and horror wash over her big brother's face when he saw her sitting there with Emersyn of all people. Picturing it, it made her smirk to herself, another sip of her wine.

"Hm, and I'm sure like most ballerinas, she did starve. Did she pass that onto you, big brother? You haven't touched a thing. Are you waiting for something better to come along on one of the golden trays? Happy to eat your guilt for leaving your own mother behind?" She smirked again, tilting her head to the side. "Look at our father over there, schmoozing everyone he can. Maybe I should introduce you two properly - or maybe I should wait until I get your mother here. A penniless whore like her, stubborn as she is - she won't refuse my money, not when it's so plentiful. We can all get together, a family reunion."

She giggled to herself, into her wine glass as she sighed, shaking her head. "Poor Dilan though, she doesn't know just how dysfunctional you are, or does she? Is that what you two have in common? I'll have you know she's a real asset to me - friend might be putting it too much, but definitely an asset. I like her for you, big brother. She's needy - be weary of that, although I'm sure you got enough of that with your own mother." She spoke, arched eyebrow, inches from him, all but a painted on pretty smile for the press. Just a friendly chat.

#emersyn x roman

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kissedbruises · 2 years ago

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While Roman could never find the right word to describe it, he'd always known there was something about his sister that didn't quite align to her kind. Others were always trying to bury things, but Emersyn didn't have a single hatchet. She didn't need vile means to get what she wanted or avoid what she didn't. She was blunt with a force stronger than any sharp— far more dangerous, far more deadly to more than just reputation. He'd seen people changed by her in ways far different than some invisible string taunted by money or loss. More importantly, he'd never seen her flinch whether she was the one whose thread was pulled or she was the one tugging.

He knew how to move around her only because he knew the script. Roman had practiced it enough times to know how to write it into his bones, but the difference between them was that he was well aware of the act he rubbed raw into his skin. A part of him, at the very least, cared about the taste of impulse in dismissing others while Emersyn didn't care at all. There was no satisfaction to be had in instant gratification. For her, it all simply was.

"Why waste your breath? Anichka's desperate but her pride is what makes her stubborn. She'd rather starve than accept anything from the likes of you," Roman pointed out.

After all, Emersyn was the product of her replacement and the little jewel their father decided to keep beyond the rusting gild his mother had after he defiled her prosperity with her son. Her career shriveled up and was hardly laid to rest, but rather left to decay upon her desperate attempts to keep going. She ruined it instead of taking her leave.

Taking a sip of his drink, something he executed delicately despite leaving nothing but the glistening of ice, he scratched at her attempt at a nick. "As for Dilan, maybe you should try and make your own friends instead of just going through the trash of mine. You'd better hope she gets a discount because if she shuts her mouth, I won't mind giving her my prescription for free just to spite you for a day to make her company bearable."

#emersyn x roman

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nsheetee · 4 years ago

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Awaken

Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.

“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”

“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”

Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.

“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.

“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.

“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”

“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”

“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.

“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.

After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.

You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.

He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.

He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.

“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.

“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”

“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.

It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.

Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.

“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.

“You like it?”

“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.

“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.

In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.

You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.

“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.

The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.

His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.

“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.

“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.

“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.

“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”

It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.

“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.

“Why so many?” Chenle asks.

“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You collect your luggage and head upstairs.

Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.

His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.

“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.

“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.

“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.

“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.

“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.

“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.

“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”

“But you’re a guest—”

“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.

“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.

Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.

From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.

As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.

As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.

“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.

Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.

“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.

“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.

“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.

“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”

“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.

“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.

Could you get anymore perfect for him?

You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”

Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.

“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out

what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?

Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.

You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.

Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.

His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.

Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.

He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?

‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.

Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.

His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.

But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.

Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.

He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.

Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.

Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.

Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.

He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.

You’re right there.

Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?

“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.

“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.

“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.

Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.

He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.

You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”

Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.

It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.

“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.

When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.

He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.

You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.

“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.

“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.

“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”

“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.

Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.

You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.

“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.

Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.

When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.

When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.

Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.

“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.

You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.

“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.

Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.

He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.

“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.

“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.

“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.

Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.

Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.

“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.

“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.

“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.

“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.

“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”

“What? What does that mean—”

“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.

2K notes · View notes

anotheranimestan · 4 years ago

Text

Steamy Nights

Shouta Aizawa steaminess + suggestive language

Please note that y/n is obviously of age in this one

wc: 2.4k

Tell me why I got 🦋 when writing this loll. This man is fineee

Stretched out on Aizawa’s couch, you were waiting for him to get home after another long day of teaching. A little while ago he’d given you a key to his place, which was a big surprise since he values his privacy so much. Since you hadn’t been able to see him for a few days, you figured tonight would be the perfect time to use it. Work was really taxing on him lately and you knew he was stressed. Probably over stressed. To make the most of the night, you decided to set the atmosphere.

The apartment already had Shouta’s personality all over it. Lots of dark furniture and wood. Absolutely no harsh lighting, just a few dim lamps. His walls were scattered with some paintings he’d bought on your art show dates together. Old books and blankets everywhere. His sweet cat usually curled up in her corner.

He had a drawer full of scented candles. Your favorite was the cinnamon one but he claims it’s too sweet for him. Although you highly doubted he’d even notice the difference, he just holds random stubborn opinions sometimes without any good reason behind it. Just wanting things to complain about. Most people found his pessimistic grumpy attitude unattractive but...he’s just moody. An exterior shell. Inside was was soft and sweet.

You’d just finished lighting a few of the cinnamon candles and putting on some of his favorite music in the background when you heard the door click open.

He’s always so light on his feet. Sometimes if you weren’t paying close attention he’d come in and scare the life out of you on accident.

You rounded the corner, excited to see him.

“Hey Eraserhead.”

You always called him by is pro name when he’s in his hero costume. People usually assumed it was out of respect or privacy but he knew the real reason. You were teasing him. You disliked his hero name and his hero outfit. Recalling the day Present Mic convinced him to use it, you’d pestered him relentlessly to put more effort into it. Insisting he’d regret it one day. He said he didn’t care...but now look at him.

“Please y/n, when are you going to stop calling me that?” He said rubbing his eyes. He was low energy as usual.

“After you change it.”

“I can’t change it.”

“Exactly.” You whispered smugly.

He sighed. No matter how many times you had this conversation you would always win. Rightfully but he wouldn’t admit it.

You drifted over to greet him properly. Brushing the hair out of his eyes and placing a sweet lingering kiss on his cheek.

And as for his boring, baggy costume...you understood it’s purpose. He wore it to stand out less, aiding in his fight style. But it was still a pain since you couldn’t properly hug him in it. The capture weapon was always in your face and you could hardly feel his body through the layers.

His modest attire duped most people. Making his tastefully well built body underneath a best kept secret. Which you supposed was an upside. Only you (and Present Mic for some reason) had ever really gotten to see him shirtless.

“I’m going to change.” He said kissing your forehead. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

He reemerged from his room a few minutes later. Wearing a droopy black shirt and sweatpants that were loose around his hips. You could see the dipped lines of his V. Just north was his lightly defined six pack. And just south was unfortunately concealed under black briefs and his untied waistband...

He caught you staring.

Feeling red and exposed you quickly redirected your attention to something else. “So are you hungry babe? I could make something?”

He declined.

“Okay...what about grading assignments. Do you want help to make it go faster?”

Declined again. Apparently he worked straight through lunch to finish that already.

You were beginning to feel useless. You’re supposed to be making him de-stress but it’s like he was so self-sufficient there was no room for you.

You sat next to him on the couch, his arm wrapped around you. You brushed some hair behind his ear. His long dark hair was always messy from his constant naps. Plus, you constantly running your fingers in it doesn’t help that situation. He was quiet. Massaging his temples. You could see the tension on his face. It made your heart twinge with pain. Just then you noticed his ear fully. He had at least six piercings on this one but he wasn’t wearing any of his earrings. Usually he’d put them on when he wasn’t at work but he didn’t tonight. And you knew exactly why.

“Babe. I have an idea.”

“And what’s that?” He played along.

He would take them out when he secretly wanted one of your amazing head massages. You always focus on his ears and temples just like he liked so he’d left out his earrings hoping you’d get the hint. This man could never just ask for something in his life. Luckily you could read him like a book.

“Come on.” You purred. Pulling him with both hands off the couch. He complied wearily.

Aizawa didn’t spend much of the money he made from pro hero work on lavish things. The only times he splurged was to buy you nice gifts. However, you did convince him to purchase one nice thing for himself. You knew he wanted it anyways but was just too stubborn to actually buy it.

A jacuzzi tub. He loves hot baths after a day of dealing with his “problem children” students. It was the only thing that could get his muscles to relax. And the moisture from the steam felt nice on his eyes.

Making sure to bring a candle and the speaker with, you lured him into the bathroom.

“Want to take a bath with me?” You asked sweetly.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” A tiny smile spread on his lips. You were too irresistible to deny.

“Okay you run it and I’ll go get the wine.” You sang excitedly. “But don’t make it so hot. You almost burnt my skin off last time.”

“It felt normal to me.” He said casually.

“Yea because you’re a psychopath.” You quipped before springing to the kitchen.

You guys had two types of favorite wine. One was for your long deep discussions about art and literature. Or when asks for your advice on dealing with his students because he knows he’d just lose his temper and expel them without your ideas. And the other, the pricier and far more potent one, was saved for special moments. Just like these. You poured your glass full, of course, but you filled his to the tippy top. Not only did he need it, but Lord knows tipsy Aizawa was sexy.

When you returned, he was crouched over testing the water temperature. His face gently lit from the soft glow of the candle in the dark room.

“I made sure to cool it off. No psychopaths here.” He teased trying to sound bored. But his voice was noticeably happier than when he’d arrived.

You instructed him to take a few sips of wine, desperate to get that show rolling.

“I know what you’re doing.” He said with an amused little smile. He swapped the cups in your hands so you now claimed the full one.

“Good. So then you should know exactly how to play along.” You said as you switched the glasses back with a wink.

He sighed in defeat. But that rare smile was still adorning his cheeks. He took a few y/n-approved size drinks.

His hair was falling into his eyes again. You set your glass down on the tub edge and pulled him into you. He wrapped his arms around your waist while you pushed his hair back and secured it in a clip.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” He said softly.

“I know. Now that I have a key I wanted to come bother you a bit.”

His eyebrow raised at the word bother.

You panicked slightly. Hoping he wasn’t actually bothered that you’d come uninvited.

“That does sound like you.” He said as he kissed your nose. “I hope you do it more often.”

Your heart spasmed.

“Really? You do?” Your insecurities ears’ perked up.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” He said in his deep sleepy voice.

A happy little smile broke its way through. You could only shrug in response.

You slipped your hands under his shirt and pulled it up slowly. Dragging your knuckles along the dips and bumps of his abs as you went. Gently you pulled it over his head. He helped by raising his arms which just made the rest of his muscles flex. Your heart started beating a little faster. No matter how many times you saw him he always made you flustered.

Your eyes were glued on him. His tattoos were now completely visible. Another best kept secret. They trailed around his shoulder, back and half his chest. You placed some honeyed kisses on his collar bones as you pulled down his sweatpants and briefs to leave him fully undressed. He was mouthwatering type sexy. The candlelight was highlighting all his high points in the best possible way. The music was perfectly complimenting your emotions and the sleepy eyes staring at you so lovingly were severely compromising your thought process. There were a lot of things you wanted to do with him suddenly but you focused your eyes on the goal here. A relaxing, hot bath.

Bath bath bath.

Reluctantly containing yourself you pried his hands off your waist and nudged him towards the water.

“Okay okay, go on.”

“You’re coming too right?” He said as he grazed your bottom lip with his thumb.

You nodded, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

He laid down in the water and took some more large swigs of wine. His glass was half empty before you’d even taken your first sip. He watched you undress with intent in his eyes, soaking in every curve and dip of you as well. He reached an arm out to you once you’d fully unclothed. He wanted his hands on you immediately.

But you had a goal here. Bath. Massage. Focus.

You slipped in behind him so that he laid between your legs. His broad shoulders nearly covered your whole body when he leaned back against you.

The tub was huge. Easily fit you both and could probably add another person.

“And now for my favorite part.” You announced as you switched the tub on its low setting. The rumbling under the water sending tiny vibrating waves around the whole tub.

Definitely worth spending his money.

Your hands rubbed every inch of him you could reach. His abs, the thick muscular sides of his waist, his biceps. You alternated between hugging his neck whispering cute things in his ear and massaging him.

Of course he was practically falling asleep as you spent time on his ears and temples. His head was heavy against your chest. It was so cute. You loved when he fell asleep on you.

But you knew he was keeping himself awake. He was rubbing your legs and the backs of your thighs. Squeezing and kneading them gently. Placing kisses on your arms and hands whenever he got the chance.

After about 20 minutes and one refresh of hot water, both your glasses were empty. He’d drank most of it since he’d downed the last few sips of yours too.

Wanting to see his handsome face again you shifted and positioned yourself to sit on his lap, thighs wrapped snuggly around his waist. After making sure you were fully comfortable, he leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes. He pulled you close and trailed circles with his fingertips up and down your back under the warm water. He loved the weight of you on him. You both exhaled a deep stress relieving breath.

The steam was working its magic, the rumbling of the jets felt so good massaging your legs. And his heart beat, you could feel it through his chest. It was slow and steady. Making you drowsy off him.

He noticed you were lost in thought, stroking his hair and tracing your fingers along the lines of his tattoo. He took advantage of this time to soak in all your features, watching you under drooping lashes. The flush of your cheeks, the delicate arrangement of your beauty marks. The far off expression on your face, he knew it well. He loved observing you when you were like this. You were beautiful.

“Relaxed yet?” You purred. Starting to tease him with soft kisses.

“Almost there.” He replied before catching you to deepen the kiss. Your soft skin and body heat was melting him away. He wanted more. Using both hands he pressed your back into it.

He savored your lips for a long while, becoming more and more passionate as the seconds ticked by and the wine hit his bloodstream.

You felt him shifting underneath you. Squirming slightly from the pressure that was building up. More butterflies. His hands clamped down around your hips.

“Okay your plan worked.” He smiled into your kiss. Eyes still closed.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re referring to.”

He tapped his finger against the empty wine glasses.

You started sucking on the sensitive spot under his ear. You knew tipsy Shouta always got turned on by that.

His arms both constricted tightly around your waist. His hips were pressing up into you now with impatience.

“Let’s go to my room.” He concluded. You giggled, causing your lips to vibrate against his sweet spot. You heard the soft moan from deep in his throat.

He stood up keeping you wrapped tightly around him, carrying you with ease.

He half-heartedly patted you both down with a towel, his hand not losing contact with your ass for a second.

Before he could whisk you out of the bathroom you grabbed the speaker and candle again.

The scent wafted into the air around you.

“Mm that smells good.” He said distracted for only a moment before his lips gravitated to your body again.

“Oh really. So you do like it.” You said with the smuggest tone. “You’ll never guess what scent it is Shouta.”

He didn’t reply. Too distracted with kissing your shoulders.

“Cinnamon.” You said with as much sass and emphasis as you could muster.

He paused. Caught. How did you always get him like this?

He pulled back rolling his eyes with a smile. Nose to nose now, you pressed him further with a smirk.

He cocked an eyebrow at you. Looking directly in your eyes he said, “Mhm. Keep this same energy when I take you in there.”

And just like that he’d knocked down your resolve and your whole body started fluttering.

He carried you into his bed and you two “relaxed” for the rest of the night.

😳 the way I want to be y/n.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa imagine #aizawa fluff #aizawa smut #aizawa headcanons #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa sexy #aizawa sensei #aizawa fanart #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa drabble #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa angst #shouta aizawa x reader #mha shouta #shouta fluff

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Worry, Darling (one-shot)

Synopsis: Falling in love with a co-star is something that can hurt, especially when it seems like they’re talking to other people behind your back, but falling in love with a co-star and being unable to help when they’re sick, is even worse.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: COVID-19, sickness, swearing, SMUT (fingering, m going down on f, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

Word count: 11 968 (yoikes)

Please note I’m not trying to make light of the pandemic or the virus and those impacted by it. It’s a very real and serious thing, which is why I decided to use it. Please stay safe and healthy, follow the local health guidelines and if you have the ability please get vaccinated. Let’s keep ourselves and one another safe, frens :)

When Y/N got the call she’d gotten the role of Jack’s ex-wife who’d disappeared in mysterious circumstances, she was over the moon. As a Marvel alumnus, she was excited to work with Florence, as she’d loved Midsommar, and knowing she was going to be one of the new faces carrying the next Marvel chapter, she wanted to get to know her. Having played Tony Stark’s adopted daughter since the age of six, she was very protective of the franchise but was excited to see where it’d go.

Then Shia LaBeouf, Chris Pine as well with Dakota Johnson’s announcements coming soon after, Y/N got even more stoked, and with Olivia Wilde leading all of them, she was sure the movie would be a hit.

Shia and Dakota had to drop out due to scheduling issues (which Y/N couldn’t lie – she was kind of happy Shia couldn’t do it), and that's where Harry Styles took over the role of Jack with Kiki Layne Dakota’s Margaret.

Now, when Y/N had seen Harry’s picture next to the re-cast e-mail the whole production had been sent out, she might’ve had a little (a massive, like a ginormous) freak-out. As much as she’d grown up listening to classic rock, due to Robert Downey Jr. and Iron Man, she’d been an avid One Direction fan. Like to the point, it might even seem a bit creepy. Y/N had sort of grown out of the obsessive phase of it all, but most definitely admired the solo albums they’d been able to produce, and when Dunkirk came out, she was excited to see Harry join the acting world, with the amount of talent he had.

The first table read was sort of awkward, and definitely the weirdest one, given how a pandemic had started, and everyone was at their respective homes using Zoom.

Y/N and Florence had been the first to join the conversation about half an hour before the official beginning, and by the time everyone else did, they were crying from laughter and had to excuse themselves from their computers to collect whatever remaining composure they had.

“You two alright?” Oliva Wilde had raised her eyebrow, as the women re-joined, still chuckling. “Will we have to use body doubles for the scenes you two are in?”

“No!

“Nohooo!” both of them yelled through laughter. “We’ll be as professional as professionals are. Which is very professional.”

Then Y/N made the mistake of glancing at Florence’s square, and the two busted out laughing again, spewing apologies in between, but no one seemed to really mind. In fact, it looked like they appreciated how casual and open everyone was being, hoping the set wouldn’t be stiff either when they moved onto filming.

And for the two women, it wasn’t really. Actually, they grew closer than ever. The amount of time Florence spent in Y/N’s trailer was to the point that the two started to talk about just moving in together. After scouring the nearby apartments for rent, they settled on a three-bedroom apartment, as two-bedroom ones were non-existent.

When Harry grew closer to them as well, given how he spent quite some time with both women, they suggested he move in as well.

“You know, what? I changed my mind. You’re taking away our closet, and I don't like that,” Y/N pouted, watching as Florence lifted a pile of her clothes and moved it to her room. “That’s not very ‘treat people with kindness’ of you.”

All he did was flick a finger at her forehead, which Y/N swatted away with a smile. When he’d double-checked about moving in with them (which, mind you was the seventh time, and half his stuff was already there), the two women were ecstatic. They got along amazingly on set and basically having a sleepover with friends every night suited all of them quite well.

At that moment, Y/N was sitting on the edge of her bed, knitting while Harry painted all of their toes and Florence put on facemasks.

“Wine!” Y/N suddenly exclaimed, almost knocking over the light blue nail polish bottle as she jumped up, throwing her needles back on the bed. “We need wine!”

“Do not ruin my masterpiece!” Harry hollered after her, as she waddled away on her heels, toes separated by foam and hight up in the air. She even had to manoeuvre around the carpet to avoid any hairs and fibres that could get stuck inside the still wet lacquer.

It took her a second to find a bottle all three of them could enjoy, given their tastes were so different – Y/N preferred sweet and red, and didn’t care if it was a three-dollar bottle from Target, Harry had a bit more of an expensive pallet, giving preference to something with a more of a lingering aftertaste and in the higher ranges of price point, while Florence liked rosé and white wines.

Taking two glasses in one hand and the bottle with a third glass between her fingers, she shuffled back to her room when she heard the two muttering something in low voices before Harry whispered harshly, “I’m not telling Y/N that!”

“Won’t me what?” Y/N’s question made him and Florence spring back where they’d been engaged in a heated conversation when she re-entered the room, putting the wine bottle and glasses on the nightstand.

Florence waved her off, giving her a smile, she didn’t believe in. “Nothing. Now come on, Harry will do your fingernails now, and I think it’s about time the mask came off.”

And that’s when Y/N’s heart dropped. She’d been in the industry long enough to know how fake people could be, how they could put on smiles so inviting and friendly while hiding their true intentions behind them. She just didn’t think two people she’d found so genuine and sweet would be like that.

And the thing was – it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the two whispering like that and hushing up when they saw her enter the room or even come somewhere near to them.

In the beginning, Y/N had chalked it up to the two being closer, given they had to spend more time together, so they knew one another better, but this time sort of solidified it wasn’t the fact the two were closer, it had to deal with Y/N specifically.

So, she started to distance herself. She’d had enough users in her life to last her for the rest of it. Y/N excused herself from the movie nights they had on most Fridays, she no longer joined in on the cooking sessions and mostly spent time in her room, or on work calls.

When she re-entered the flat, four weeks after their falling out, they watched as she nodded to them, and went inside her room, closing the door, much like she’d been doing for the past thirty days.

“Do you think she knows?” Harry asked, brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he hoped the doors would open, yet, obviously, they didn’t.

“Well, I haven’t told her, and unless you did, then I doubt it…”

Harry stood up, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna talk to her.”

“You think it’s a good idea?”

“No, but if she’s upset maybe she needs to talk to someone.”

“Or maybe she wants to be alone.”

Harry bit his lip thinking over Florence’s words. When he was upset about something, he himself did like to kind of retreat and become a little bit of a recluse, to sort out his emotions before anyone else tried to jump in and help with it, but the thing was – Y/N’s distancing started the night when she’d walked in on the two of them arguing, and it’d been about the girl in question herself, so he shook his head. “I’ll just ask if she’s alright.”

He took a deep breath and went to enter the room he hadn’t seen in almost a month. “Hey.” Harry poked his head through Y/N’s door, making her swirl around in her chair. She looked adorable to him. She’d changed into a big fluffy nightgown, the hood up, a headband pushing hair away from her face with a green facemask covering her skin. The domestic life flashed through Harry’s head like a freight train, as it was something he craved, but pushed it away. There was no daydreaming before figuring out what was in front of him in reality. “You okay?”

“ 'M fine.” She shot him a quick smile. “Why? Did Olivia send something new for the script?”

“Um, no, ‘s just you’ve been, I dunno – detached a bit?”

“Look, Harry… I may be younger than you, but I’ve been in this industry longer than you or Florence.” Y/N stood and shrugged before crossing her arms. “And the thing is – I don’t care for shit like that. So, you two can gossip and whisper and talk whatever you want about me behind my back. Everyone else is doing that so, you’re not that special. But’ I’d prefer if you did it somewhere else besides my room, my space, and I’ll say this once, but very clearly – we’re not friends. I don’t need friends like you. We’ll be civil and we’ll do our jobs, but…” Harry’s heart broke at her eyes, seeing the pain in them as she nodded and made sure he understood where she stood. “We’re not friends.”

She didn’t leave any room for argument. When Harry left, Y/N didn’t even look over her shoulder to see him exit.

The next couple of mornings she didn’t see them leave nor come back, seeing as Y/N had the week off from filming, but the morning of the seventh day was awkward as hell, given how all of them had to go and get tested, and well, they had their allocated time slots one after the other. Usually, they’d take one car together, but this time, Y/N drove off on her own, while Harry and Florence carpooled on their own.

The tests were always nerve-wracking. If one person went down, the whole production did for at least two weeks. And as much as she hated going in alone, she was glad no one was with her in the car, because as she stepped out, a certain notion swept over her that this would be a lot different than usual.

A doctor dressed head to toe in protective gear motioned for her to sit down, as another processed her ID and work ID. Her leg was bouncing up and down the whole time, and he eyed her. If she could see his lips, she was sure they’d be pursed. “Anything wrong?” He handed her back the IDs before moving to the table where a set of large q-tips seemed to lay in sterile packs.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip and nodded. “Woke up with a sore throat and a small cough appeared on my way here as well. I wiped and cleaned everything down at the apartment I’m staying at and wore gloves and a mask the whole time.”

“Anything else?” the doctor asked, writing down each word as Y/N said. “The feeling of breaking bones, fever, muscle pain, eyes hurting when you look up, lost sense of smell or taste?”

“No, nothing like that. Just a sore throat and a small cough.”

The doctor let out a large sigh, probably from having to wear a full-on hazmat suit. “Alright. Just for safety reasons, so we know who’s a potential contact person, who are you staying with?”

“Florence Pugh and Harry Styles. We’re renting an apartment together.”

“Do you know if they’ve had any symptoms?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head honestly. “And I haven’t really interacted with them this past week, as they’ve been on set, and I didn’t have any scenes to film, and by the time they get back, I’m already asleep, and I’m still asleep when they leave so there’s been no direct contact. We have our own kitchenware, so there shouldn’t be any direct contact. I think.”

That last bit was half-true, seeing as she hadn’t been asleep when they came back, but she might as well have been. The second Y/N heard the door click, she’d place her headphones on or leave the room, only glimpsing the two faces falling as she did that.

The doctor clearing his throat and motioning for Y/N to open her mouth so he could take a swab and then to do the same for both her nostrils, was what brought her out of it. She was so used to it, it was like nothing at that point. “Okay. We’ll need you to stay in the car while the test is being run, and if it comes back positive, you’ll be placed in a separate flat, as to not endanger the rest.”

Her ‘alright’ was barely audible. Fuck. It just felt like the universe was against her. First, the two people she’d gotten closest to were whispering behind her back and being fake to her face, now she might have a super contagious virus to which there was no medicine really, nor was there a vaccine, let alone the thought she’d have to miss filming for potentially more than two weeks.

The thirty minutes of wait were agonizing, her leg bouncing up and down. Y/N’s eyes kept watching the line of cars slowly move forward through the tent and then settle behind hers. She knew Harry was about five cars away, and she was glad he wasn’t closer. They weren’t really allowed to get out of their vehicles while the tests were being run, and Y/N didn’t think she’d be able to not look back at him through her review mirror.

Two more minutes passed when finally, one of the med students in the full hazmat suit came up and knocked on her car window.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“ID please.” It was standard so that no med info got leaked. The only reason she had to rummage through her stuff was, because she’d bite the little plastic card in half if she didn’t throw it somewhere deep inside her bag.

“So.” The man sighed, and he didn’t need to elaborate. Y/N understood, but still, he had to confirm it to her. “Your test came back positive for COVID-19. The production has been informed, and for safety reasons, everyone will have to self-isolate for two weeks.”

Y/N’s head slammed against the back of the seat. “Fuck. Okay.”

“Because so far, you’re the only positive case, you’ll be placed into quarantine. We’ll need the address you’re staying at, and if you need anything from your apartment, we can send someone over to grab a few things. You’ll have to follow the black SUV right there.” He pointed further down the lot where indeed a black SUV stood. “They’ll take you to where the quarantine apartments are. Is there anything immediate you’ll need?”

“I – uh – I need my pills, my birth control that is. I take it every evening. Computer, chargers. That’s the most immediate I can think of. Maybe some food? I didn’t get the chance to eat breakfast.”

Even through the mask, Y/N could see the man smile. “Well arrange that. In the meantime, here’s the number for the coordinators who’ll get you the rest of your things and deliver them to you.”

“Thank you. I’ll call my assistant, and she’ll drive down to the apartment. She knows where everything is.”

“Have you been in close contact with her?”

“Just through the phone. She hasn’t been on set in almost a month, as I told her only to come when it’s an emergency… Guess this is it.” Y/N let out an awkward chuckle.

And truly that was it. With one last motion as to where the SUV stood, she started back up the engine, reversed out of the spot and followed the car to where the ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ production had set up a few quarantine apartments, specifically for actors and crew, speed-dialling her assistant Anna and letting her know of the situation.

“Shit, girl,” she’d cursed. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay,” Anna huffed. “Do you have a spare key for the apartment by any case or do I need to go down to the lot and ask Harry or Florence?”

“Both of them will be at the apartment, given how everything’s shut down, so they should be able to open the door for you. Hopefully, if both of them are negative. If not, call me, I’ll tell you where we hide the spare. Thank you, Anna.”

“Of course.”

As Y/N pulled up behind the SUV, a man and a woman in face guards and masks stepped out. She ended the call and stepped out as well, pulling on a cloth face mask, an envelope in their hands, which they handed to her.

“Your flat’s on the third floor, 367. When you have the list of things you need, forward them to us, and we’ll gather your things.”

Y/N nodded and gave them a tight smile. “Thank you. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

With a sigh, she took her bag and entered the complex. As much as she’d only had a small cough in the morning and a sore throat, walking up those flights of stairs made her winded more than it usually would. Maybe it was the knowledge she had a sickness, or maybe it was stress about missing work and putting everyone on lockdown, or maybe it was the combination of it all with her falling out with Harry and Florence on top.

She placed the key in the lock and twisted, revealing a studio type apartment, and it was so bare it made her heart clench. As much as she felt awkward being around Florence and Harry, their flat was a bit messy, had little pieces of clothing thrown around, giant knitted blankets on the sofas, a candle always lit whenever someone was home. Harry’s shoes were typically all over the place while Y/N’s make up was scattered around everywhere. Literally. Florence and Harry had gotten back early one morning from a night shoot and found her looking under the sofas for one of her lash glues as she started to get ready for the day. They’d made that flat their home for the time being. This… this was nothing like that.

She threw the keys on the small kitchen counter and shrugged off her jacket. They was going to be a long two weeks. At best.

***

Back at their place, Florence and Harry were pacing around, having heard the news that someone was positive, and everything had to shut down for the time being, yet Y/N was nowhere to be seen when a knock at the door disrupted them.

Harry was there and flinging it open in a matter of a second, only to be stopped by Anna instead of Y/N.

“Hey.” His brows furrowed as she and two people all wearing masks and gloves entered. “What’s going on? Is Y/N alright?”

Anna sighed, nodding her head for the two strangers to go towards the woman’s room. “She was the one who tested positive for the virus. Gave me a list of the things she’d need while in quarantine. We’re here to pick ‘em up and get them to her.”

“And she’s not doing that here?”

“Per the safety instructions, she’s been placed in a separate flat in self-isolation.”

“She could’ve done that here. We’d be fine with it,” Florence butted in, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re more than willing to take care of her. She’ll need someone to help her.”

“You both tested negative.” One of the people piped up, carrying a box of books and yarn. “I’m sorry, but she’ll have to quarantine separately until she’s no longer infected. She’s under the supervision of doctors, and she knows if an emergency happens, they’ll be there in ten minutes tops. I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be.”

Harry sighed, nodding as the people exited their place, but before Anna could leave, he took hold of her bicep. “Hey, can you please tell her to call me? I just wanna talk.”

“I uh – ” Anna furrowed her brows, showing Harry that Y/N hadn’t said anything to her about the falling out they’d had. “I’ll uh, yeah. I’ll do that.”

With that he was left to close the door and just wait for… anything.

***

In the two hours Y/N had spent in the apartment, she already felt like going insane, having been left alone with her thoughts, so how she was going to do another two weeks after finally getting back into the rhythm of work was beyond her. She didn’t have any of her knitting supplies, didn’t have any of her books (yet), and most likely there was no reason to look at her script anymore, as she’d made up her mind about a lot of things.

There was a knock at the door, and Y/N instantly had a mask on her face and gloves on her hands. She peeped through the peephole and when she saw boxes lined in the hallway, three people in masks and faceguards at least six feet away, only then did she open the door and give them a wave.

“Everything should be here, but if you need anything else just pop me a message.” Anna then pointed at a bag that sat atop everything. “There are the most important things, so you don’t have to rummage through everything and a pizza is on the way while I do some grocery shopping for you. And umm, there’s a paper you need to sing that you know you need to be in self-isolation and that you understand what happens if you’re not.”

Y/N hoped all of them understood she was smiling underneath the mask, grateful for having them help her out like that. “Thank you. So much.”

She rushed inside found a pen and signed it, moving between the boxes to place the papers on the stairs so that they could be safely retrieved. With that, the two assigned people left, leaving Anna to say goodbye.

“Call me.” She pointed at Y/N. “No matter what, even if you just wanna talk for five seconds.”

“Will do.” Y/N nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “If I could, I’d hug you.”

Anna sighed, cocking her head. “Same. And umm, Harry told me to ask you to call him.”

“Yeah, uh thank you.” She knew he probably wanted to talk, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise, but it still made her stumble on her words. “Take care, Anna.”

“You too.”

***

The next two days Y/N spent worrying as to how to present her decisions to the cast and crew. She felt worse with every hour, and with that had come her thought process, but as much as everyone was going to be impacted by what she was going to do, Olivia would be the one dealing with it most, so later that night she hopped on a Zoom call with her director.

“Hey, girl.” Olivia gave her a warm smile, and Y/N almost melted. God, she loved that woman. She was like the older sister she never had. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright. Feelin’ kind of woozy from time to time, throat’s killing me, and I’m fairly certain I’m getting abs from how much I’m coughing.” That made both of them chuckle before Y/N bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair. “Look,” she sighed, looking at Olivia. “The reason I called you is that umm… well, I think it’d be a lot more cost-effective for you to re-cast me. We’ve barely shot one scene with me. I’ll be out of commission for two weeks, as a minimum. It could get worse. And I’m definitely not going to be back before I get two negative consecutive tests.”

Olivia shook her head, running down her hands over her face and then through her hair. “Y/N, I really don’t want to do this. There’s a reason we cast you. You’re amazing, and yours and Harry’s chemistry is off the charts. We’re all quarantining for two weeks, and I’m sure you’ll be fine in no time, back on set and killing it like you always do.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course, I do! Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

“All I’m saying it could take up to a month to get those two negative tests. By that point, you could’ve shot at least a fourth of my scenes. Olivia…” Y/N gave her a small, sad smile. “I know you know I’m right. I hate to pass on this, but I won’t hinder the production. If you want my input, I’ll help with the re-casting, if it takes the guilt away.”

“I still feel like shit this is an option we even have to consider.”

“’S not your fault. You didn’t get me sick. We should be happy it’s just me, not someone else or more than one person.”

***

For two more days, it was radio silence from Y/N, and Harry and Florence were anxious messes. If they could distract themselves from the falling out while on set, then now, having to be cooped up inside the apartment with pretty much nothing to do, was so much worse, not to mention Y/N declined all of their calls and left their messages on read, leaving the only option for checking in either through Anna or what she decided to share on her social media, which wasn’t a lot. But the thing was, Harry knew his best bet was to call Y/N in the middle of the night. Disorientated and barely awake, she probably wouldn’t look at the caller ID once. And he was right.

A bleary face appeared on his screen, eyes squinting as she tried to block out as much of the light as possible. “Hello?” Her voice was scratchy, and Harry’s heart clenched at just how much pain her throat must be in, let alone how she was feeling as a whole.

“Hey, there, lovie.”

It took her a second to comprehend the person who was speaking, and she’d be lying if she said hearing Harry’s voice didn’t bring her some sort of joy. “Hey, H. Are you alright? Why are you still up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about you.”

Y/N hummed, rolling on her side, and immediately regretting it as the action elicited a coughing fit. “Yeah?” she asked hoarsely. “ ’Nd what about me?”

‘How shitty I feel about everything’, ‘I miss you’, ‘I’m so fucking terrified’, but instead he asked, “How are you doing?”

“Alright,” Y/N croaked out before her body was racked with coughs once more. Harry’s own chest hurt just hearing them. “Fever’s finally down, so I’m getting some sort of sleep. Throat’s killing me though, and they’ve hooked me up to an IV. They’ll be coming in two hours or so to change the bag. How are you?” she asked quietly. “How’s Florence?”

“She’s alright. Upset. Just like I am.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “Why’re you upset?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re sick, alone in quarantine and… and we can’t help you. I can’t help you.”

A genuine chuckle escaped her. “Didn’t know you had a medical degree, Styles. Could be my personal nurse. Fetch me my water and shit.”

“No, but at least I’d like to be there for you.”

“Harry…”

“I like you,” he said after taking a deep breath, hoping that the break he’d heard in Y/N’s voice as she’d said his name wasn’t just because of the sickness, but because her heart thudded just as fast as his when he thought of them together, that her mind reeled with the possibilities of where their futures could take them and that whenever they touched, she could feel the electricity that ran through his fingertips, igniting his whole body. “That’s what Florence and I were whispering about all the time. Is that I’m madly crushing on you, and I couldn’t gather the courage to say it to you.”

A strong coughing fit made her drop the phone on the bed and lean over, as she gasped for breath, and through it all, all Harry wanted was to be there. Fuck him possibly getting the virus, as long as he could make it easier for her in some way.

“ ’M sorry,” Y/N whispered, trying to keep her voice as low as possible as to not aggravate her throat. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to apologise. You’re sick, you can’t help –”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry I assumed you and Florence were talking bad behind my back. I never should’ve done that. And this is not an excuse, I’m not trying to shift the blame from being in the wrong, but I like you too.” She gave him a shy grin that he thought was as bright as the sun. “I really like you too, Harry. I think that’s why it hurt so much to hear you two whispering ‘bout something. And thinking it was about me, and it was something bad, hurt even more, ‘cause I really connected with Flo, and I kinda, well I kind of fell for you. Hard.”

“You did?” His tone was like he didn’t believe what his ears were hearing.

“Yeah. A lot actually… I – I really like you, Harry.”

He couldn’t explain how his heart expanded in his chest while simultaneously was being crushed by his inability to help, by the distance between them, while the hope that glimmered in his eyes at Y/N’s words made her heart break as much as his was, when he asked, “So you won’t resign?”

“Harry,” Y/N made her voice as tough as it could sound with her condition. “I told them to re-cast me not because of you. I’ve been on enough sets and worked with enough pricks, and still gotten the job done. Genuinely, this is not because of you or Florence. I just – I just don’t want to hold up production. You’ll all be out in what – twelve days or something? I’ll be here for at least twice that, if everything goes the way it’s going right now.”

“I don’t want anyone else to play Larie. You are my Larie,” he muttered, which made Y/N smile, but in a true Y/N fashion she just wanted to make others feel better.

“You do know Jack murders Larie in the middle of the night.”

Harry’s mouth opened like a fishes’ while Y/N’s mouth pulled up in a grin. “That’s – that’s not what I mean, and you know it!”

Both of them were laughing now, all tension having evaporated.

“I know.” She bit on her lower lip. “But um… we’ve gotta be practical. I sent Olivia my resignation letter already, and she signed.”

She saw Harry sigh and throw back his head at her words.

“ ’M sorry, Haz. I didn’t want to but –”

“I know.” His smile was gentle, understanding. “You always put everyone before yourself. God, this just sucks major ass.”

“Trust me,” Y/N started before being interrupted by another major coughing fit. “I –,” she took in a breath. “I know.”

Her heart cracked seeing Harry’s face and his green eyes, the eyes she’d gotten lost in more times than she’d ever admitted being lined by tears. “I wish I could help you.”

“But you are. Just by – by talking to me, by keeping my mind off things. You’re helping me more than you’ll ever know.”

“When you get out, I’m taking you on a date.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. For the first time in a while, she felt good, despite being sick. “Is that a threat, Styles?”

“It’s a fucking promise.”

That night she fell asleep listening to Harry talking, seeing as it became harder and harder for her to do so, so he just took over, telling her stories that lulled her to dreamland where he was there, and she could touch him.

The following days she also had calls with Florence and the rest of her cast to explain the situation, but she wasn’t doing much talking anymore, and one night they’d even seen her almost throw up from coughing so much, which broke everyone’s hearts. They were lucky the only Covid case before Y/N had been a light one, so witnessing just how brutal it could be, made everyone appreciate what they had, but at the same time, feel as helpless as ever.

A week and a half in, that was when shit really hit the fan. Despite her feeling shitty the previous days, now Y/N woke up from the feeling as if she was drowning. She’d fallen asleep while talking with Harry on FaceTime, his features illuminated on her phone. At first, she thought it was just her dream still lingering and causing that effect, but when after a minute or so her lungs still remained on fire, she knew she had to dial the doctors.

In five minutes’ time, an ambulance was at her door, and it was a miracle she’d been able to get out of bed to open it because the second she did, her whole body pretty much collapsed into the arms of one of the nurses.

***

“Come on,” Harry muttered into the phone, pulling on a pair of trousers as quickly as possible and a knitted sweater he took from the floor as he immediately tried to redial her, having heard the call drop. “Come on! Pick up, Y/N!” Her voicemail answered instead.

“Damn it!”

It took Harry seven minutes with the way he was driving to get to her assigned isolation place, only to be greeted by red and blue flashing lights, an ambulance right in front of the entrance, and it took Harry five seconds to feel his heart drop as a team of three doctors wheeled out a gurney on which lay Y/N, face covered in a mask, an IV stuck inside her arm while a huge plastic cover domed over her body.

Without even thinking about himself or his safety, Harry jumped out of his car, rushing towards the ambulance.

“Sir.” One of the doctors extended a palm towards him, keeping him back as Harry tried to get towards the inside of the car. “Sir, you can’t be here.”

“Is that Y/N?” Harry felt like he was spinning out of control, and his mind was dizzy from not being able to take in a proper breath. “Is – is that Y/N?”

“Are you family?”

“I –,” Harry so desperately wanted to say yes, to say he was her boyfriend at least, but he couldn’t lie. “No, I’m just her collegue – friend! I’m her friend. Is she alright?”

“Okay, well is there anyone we can contact from her family?”

Harry nodded, knowing that her mum and dad were on her emergency contact lists. “But her family is out of the country, and they won’t be able to fly out with all the restrictions in place.”

“Alright.” The doctor sighed before looking back inside the car. In a way, Harry was happy he couldn’t see Y/N because he was sure if he did, he’d completely break down and crumble to the ground. “We’ll contact her parents, but if you could leave us your number as an emergency contact on place that’d be a lot of help.”

“Okay, uh…” Harry took in a deep breath, held it for five seconds and then let it out before reciting the number he used while in the USA and his permanent UK number as well, so he could be reachable anywhere and at any point in day or night, no matter the time.

“Well keep you up to date.”

And with that, the ambulance doors shut, and they rushed away, the vailing of sirens echoing in the dark night, leaving Harry with a hand in his hair, tears streaming down his cheeks and without a clue as to what to do.

***

In the end, Harry had gone back to his car and cried for what felt like ages, but instead, it was just twenty minutes. He pulled himself together but was still shaking as he made his way back to the flat where Florence basically ripped open the door. Seeing his face told her everything she needed to know.

“She’ll be alright,” the woman muttered as she soothed Harry by rubbing a palm up and down his back, letting him hide his face in her shoulder. “It’s Y/N. She’d pull through an atomic bomb.”

They spent the rest of the night and the following day on the couch, glued to Harry’s phone waiting for any sort of updates. From time to time a text message came from the hospital letting them know what procedures were being done on Y/N, that her parents have been informed, and if necessary, they’d allowed Harry to be the main contact person because of his proximity to their daughter.

Three days later and the quarantine for the rest of the cast and crew ended, yet when they returned to the set, everyone was in low spirits. Especially, Harry – he was miserable. Every moment spent not reciting lines or acting was occupied with the thoughts of Y/N, how she was doing, was she improving, was she still breathing, how he wanted to just ditch everything and run to her, to help in whatever way he could.

“This sucks,” Florence grumbled, arms crossed over her chest as they took a break while re-setting already in for the fifth day of filming, eight since Y/N’d been in the hospital. “Can’t believe they won’t allow a phone in with her.”

“It’s the same policy for everyone, but trust me,” Harry sighed and looked up at the bright blue sunny sky above. “The number of times I got out of my bed in the middle of the night and had the car keys in hand is ridiculous. And the number of times I’ve thought about breaking into that hospital is even more concerning.”

Florence let out a small chuckle and nudged his shoulder. “I’d cover for you if you did. As long as she doesn’t have to be there alone.” She hung her head, blond strands falling down to curtain her face. “Can’t imagine how scared she must be.”

Harry just sighed. There really wasn’t anything he could say.

Something vibrated in his pocket, but he no longer furrowed his brows when unknown numbers called, knowing it was from the hospital. It was nerve-wracking though to pick up the call each time because he had to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of bad news, even though he always hoped for good ones.

“Yes, hi. Hello. I – oh,” he put a hand over his mouth and sagged down onto a chair. “Oh, thank god, thank you, doctor. Yeah. Yes, I’ll let her know, and someone will be there to open the flat. Thank you again. For everything.”

He took away the phone from his ear and stared at the ground for a minute before leaping up and hugging Florence, laughter escaping his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, it’s the opposite. Y/N’s out of the hospital.”

“Oh thank god!” Her hands flew to hug him back.

“She’ll have to stay in self-isolation until the two negative tests and will be monitored by the doctors, but she’s out.”

Immediately he was dialling her, and Harry had never been as happy for the invention of a video call, because when he saw Y/N’s face light up the screen, as tired as she looked, it was the most beautiful sight that graced his eyes.

“Hey, lovie.” His voice was soft and low as if anything louder would worsen her state.

Her ‘hey’ was barely audible, but he heard it, and it made the weight of a boulder drop off his shoulders.

“I’m so – I mean we all are so happy you’re back home.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “I’m happy too,” she whispered. “I missed you. Missed everyone, but most of all I missed you.”

Harry was happy they were separated by a screen because if she was anywhere in a five-mile radius, he was sure she would be able to hear his heart beat out of his ribcage at her words. “How are you feeling?”

“ ‘M alright,” Y/N tried to let him know. “Very tired.”

“Then get back to sleep, lovie.”

Y/N shook her head. “Wanna talk to you.”

“I’ll keep talking,” Harry promised. “Like we did before, okay.”

“Okay…”

And so, he did. He kept talking as Y/N listened, and he watched as her eyes slowly closed before she drifted off to sleep. Even though Harry had to go back to filming, he didn’t dare end the call. He’d never end the call.

***

It took a month and a half for Y/N to get those two consecutive negative tests, to feel somewhat human again and when she did, she probably garnered at least seven speeding tickets with how fast she was driving down to the set.

It was the most inconspicuous outfit she could scramble together, consisting of a hoodie and baseball cap, as she watched Harry as Jack lean down to peck the actress’s lips, then step into the vintage car and rev out in the driveway, while a dishevelled Florence started the scene from the side, eyes racking over Jack’s first wife, who was dressed the exact same way, hair styled like hers and even nails painted the same, her character putting all the puzzle pieces together.

“And cut!” Olivia yelled across the lot, nudging Y/N’s side and giving her a smirk. “He’s gonna freak. You’re all he’s been talking about on set. We almost had to put a ban on you as a topic,” she muttered that part so only the woman could hear while telling everyone to re-set, so they could do the scene from another angle, but not before asking the three actors to come and look at the monitors so they could understand how to move in order to keep the continuity.

Y/N moved to the side, ducking her head down as Harry, Florence and Mandy, the actress that took over her role, all leaned closer to watch the monitors. Y/N had to bite on her lip to keep the grin away, as all of them analysed their movements and the scene, nodding along to what Olivia was saying.

“Y/L/N, what do you think?” Olivia asked, grinning.

Y/N stepped forward a bit, seeing all of their shocked faces through her peripheral, as she pointed to the screen, lifting her head so that everyone could see her face fully. “I think it’s great, you might want to step to the side a bit more, Harry, when –” but she was unable to finish the sentence as he swooped her in his arms, lifting her basically off the ground, and burying his face in her neck.

“Watch the hair! Daniele will have a fit if you ruin her masterpiece!” Y/N laughed, holding one of her hands on the base of his neck, the other tightly wrapped around his shoulders, but he just shook his head, and she could feel tears splash her skin.

“Fuck the hair!” He let out a small chuckle, and she could hear the lump in his throat. “I’ve missed you so much. I was so scared.”

“Same,” Y/N whispered. “Missed you like crazy. And your stupid, unfunny dad jokes.”

“ ‘M hilarious, lovie, what are you talking about?”

He finally set her down but didn’t let go of her waist, and she smiled cupping his cheeks. “A true comedian, that’s what you are.”

“I know. Why’dya think I got that SNL slot?”

But his eyes, as he gazed into hers once more glassed over.

“Hey,” Y/N cooed wiping away the tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, cause then I’ll cry, and we’re both gonna be crying messes, and then these guys will have to deal with that.”

Harry sighed, leaning into her touch. “Happy tears, lovie. All happy tears.”

The two looked at one another as if there was no one else in the universe. And for the two of them, there really wasn’t. Neither had to say what was on their minds, they already knew.

His face was inching closer to Y/N’s, and heart started to beat erratically, not that Harry minded, as his palm rested in the middle of her back. In fact, his own heart mimicked the rhythm, but it stuttered when someone behind him cleared their throat and interrupted their moment.

Y/N hid her face in Harry’s chest as he sighed at Olivia’s raised eyebrow.

“You’ll be able to smooch as much as you want, but we need him in hair and make-up.”

“Oli-“

“Now,” she let out a small laugh. “Before Daniele removes my head from my shoulders.”

“Go,” Y/N patted his side. “I’ll still be here.”

“Is that a threat?”

She grinned up at him. “A fucking promise.”

Harry dashed away like lightning, hoping that the quicker he was done, the sooner he could have Y/N back in his arms even if it was for a second, but her attention was taken by a woman with long blond curls, a flowing green slip on her figure; her steps unsure as was the wave she gave her, but Y/N’s heart melted at the sight of her.

“Hey, Flo,” she whispered and brought the girl in a bone-crushing hug, holding onto her, trying to convey how much she regretted her words and actions, especially because they were unwarranted.

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N said, and she nodded.

“Me too.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“And I should’ve made sure Harry pulled his head out of his ass.”

That made both of them laugh, and it was nice to do it not only without having to cough up her insides, but to do it with someone she’d connected with and had become great friends with.

“He did that. I just hope if he wants to make another move, it won’t take me dying to push him to.”

Florence pointed at her, a serious look on her face. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he does.”

A small noise of someone clearing their throat from behind Y/N took both of their attentions for them to go onto the actress who’d been cast as her replacement, the woman coming forward and extending her hand for a handshake with a nervous smile. “Hi. I’m Mandy.”

“ ‘S very nice to meet you.” Y/N tried to give off as open and accepting of a vibe as much as possible, because she genuinely wanted Mandy to feel respected and that she wasn’t a threat. “Before you think anything if you’re worried about me taking the role, don’t. It’s all yours, so don’t worry about that. I just stopped by ‘cause I hadn’t seen anyone in almost two months. Never thought I’d say this, but fuck did I missed people.”

Mandy shook her head, her smile a lot lighter and brighter now. “I – uh thank you for that actually. I’m a huge fan of yours, and well, can only try and live up to what you would’ve portrayed.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll absolutely kill it, and I can’t wait for the movie.”

It was great to see Mandy’s shoulders drop in relief. “Would it be too much if I asked for advice on the role?”

“No,” Y/N laughed. “But I would say that you should make this role your own. It is yours. You are Larie now. And Harry’s Jack. Make it yours.”

As she said that, she turned to watch Harry who was practically bouncing on his feet, green eyes flitting back to where she was standing, and when their gazes met, neither could help the smiles blooming on their faces.

“You know he messed up a scene once and said your name?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she looked over at Mandy. “What do you mean ‘said my name’?”

“It was a kissing scene. The wedding bit, actually. As Jack and Larie recited their vows, and he leans down to kiss her, he was supposed to say, ‘I’ll love you Larie, until the very end’. He said your name instead.”

That hit Y/N more than a semi-truck wheeling a ton of bricks would. Yes, she knew Harry liked her, and he knew she liked him, but love was a big word, and for him to admit that, whether it was a flub or not, was even bigger.

Harry was a private person. While he openly talked about what he felt, he guarded heart at the same time, much like Y/N did. But she had to wait until Olivia yelled cut for the day, and had to watch him make a mad dash for hair and make-up before running to the dressing trailer as he didn’t want to miss out on a second he could spend with her. Even as they walked up to their shared flat and he opened the door, his fingers stayed intertwined with hers.

“How does it feel to be back?”

“Kinda shitty, honestly,” Y/N laughed throwing the keys to the table and shrugging out of the jacket and taking off the cap, Harry immediately helping her and putting it on one of the racks. “I’ll have to move out, now that I’m not part of the movie.”

“Why? ‘S not like the production is paying our rent, we’re doing it out of our own pocket.”

“Yes, but now that I don’t have a job, I kinda need to look for one.”

“And what says that you can’t live here while you do that?”

“I –,” Y/N’s brows furrowed. “I mean nothing, really… I just… kinda thought because I’m not part of the movie anymore it’d be safer if I found my own place. But um… I think I have something else I’d like to talk about. Mandy,” Y/N dragged out her name a bit, a sly smirk appearing on her face, “told me you had a flub on set.”

Harry’s heart was pounding underneath her palm where she’d grabbed onto the lapels of his dress shirt, so he couldn’t run away.

“I’ve uh,” he let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve had a couple of flubs on set. Who hasn’t?”

“I don’t doubt that. But she said you misspoke a name.”

She made him look into her eyes and wouldn’t dare let their gaze break. “You said my name during the wedding scene. You said Y/N. Not Larie.”

Harry looked like a cross between a deer in headlights and a fish out of the water, eyes wide with his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out, which made Y/N worry a bit.

She placed a palm against his cheek. “Harry? You alright?”

“I – I meant it.” He let out a deep sigh and leaned down to press his forehead to hers. “And when I thought back on it, I don’t remember seeing her face or Larie’s face. It was yours. And the lips I was kissing belonged to you too. I was holding your hand, and you were holding mine. And I know it’s way too quick, for a wedding -”

“Unless you threaten me with it –”

“I –,” Harry stuttered before laughing, all tension evaporating from his body. “No, that I don’t want to be a threat. That will be a question asked with love and hopefully an answer given to it the same way.”

Y/N nudged his nose with hers. “Well, we’ll see. I mean if you don’t kiss me what makes you th–,”

But she didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before his lips were on hers, pressing with such gentleness, it made her weak at the knees, and she would’ve crumbled if Harry’s arms handn’t woven around her middle, fingers pressing into the sides, the pressure increasing with each second their mouths were connected.

Harry’s hand drifted up Y/N’s back and settled on her neck as if he could pull her any closer, her own palms slipping over his stomach, pecks and grabbing onto his jaw, fingers lightly scratching at the stubble that’d grown throughout the day. He had to shave every morning for the role of Jack, but each evening she’d see a small, darkened shadow across his skin, and Y/N would be lying that when she’d realised her attraction to him, she hadn’t thought about how delicious it would feel to have it leave small burn marks on the inside of her thighs.

Unconsciously, she clenched her thighs, trying to create some sort of friction which became more and more unbearable as she felt Harry moan into her mouth, tongue sweeping against her lower lip, asking for permission without words, which Y/N granted without a second to spare.

It was heavenly to have him so close to her. She did wonder if the sensation was intensified by the fact, she hadn’t been able to touch anyone properly for almost two months, but that thought vanished when his fingers skimmed underneath her hoodie, brushing against her heated skin. No. It was because it was Harry.

“I –,” he was breathless as he pulled away, but Y/N didn’t let him get too far, her lips attaching themselves to his neck, making him groan in pleasure. “I don’t want to push this too far.”

Her brows scrunched up, as she took a look at him. “What do you mean? If you think I don’t want this, then let me be perfectly clear – I do. A lot.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so fucking glad you do, but… Y/N you just got out of the hospital, where you were on a ventilator. I don’t want to make anything worse.”

“Not your choice to make.” A devious smile appeared on her face, as she stepped a few feet away and lifted her hoodie over her head, making Harry inhale sharply. “So here are your two options.” Her hands went behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it slowly drop to the floor, the green eyes that hadn’t left her now wide as saucers. “Number one.” She toed off her boots and popped open the button of her jeans. “We can stop this, obviously, just say the word, and I get to my room, start packing and looking for a new place. We can have some dinner and just chill. Or number two.” Y/N hooked her jeans behind her thumbs and slowly dragged them down her legs, revealing more and more of herself to Harry. “We can go inside your room and make up for the lost time. In every position imaginable, for as long as you want. But.” Y/N’s eyes glimmered with mischief as she made her way to Harry’s room. “I don’t think you wanna take the first option.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, turning it from the meticulously gelled hairstyle into a mop of messy strands. “You know you’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman.”

Y/N swayed her hips a bit more as she took another step closer to his room, the door meeting her back, and one of her hands went to the doorknob, pressing down on it. “Well, a gentleman doesn’t kiss before the first date, and definitely not like that.”

He stood there, hands on his hips, eyes not leaving her body, as she cocked her head. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

They were ten torturous seconds for both, hearts beating out of their chests, but it only took three steps for Harry to cross the hallway, his hand sneaking behind Y/N’s back and pressing down on the doorknob as well, revealing the inside of his room. It was messy, much like her own, but it wouldn’t take too much to rip all off the tossed around bedding leaving a whole bed to themselves.

“You. Are. The. Devil.”

Her smile was nothing short of wicked. “I mean you can listen to the angel on your shoulder.”

“I’d rather listen to you.”

Together they stepped inside, and Y/N nodded. “Making good choices already.”

“Can’t get on your bad side, can I now?”

“I mean you can.” Her legs hit the back of his bed and she fell down on it, Harry leaning over, resting his elbows next to her head. “But bad boys get punished.”

His nose skimmed over hers. Now he was the one smiling like a devil. “I’ll hold you to your word. For future reference, that is.”

That kiss was nothing like their first. This was messy, and passionate, all tongue and teeth, hands grabbing everywhere possible to get the other unclothed. Or at least that’s what Y/N was trying to do, seeing as she was pretty much naked already, and Harry was the one still wearing too much.

Her hands pretty much ripped open the shirt. It one of his expensive Gucci ones, she was quite certain of it, but it didn’t seem like he cared, as he shrugged it off, throwing it to land somewhere on the floor.

Y/N sighed into his mouth as her hands were now freely allowed to run over his chest, over the ink embedded into his skin, over taut muscles that relaxed under her touch, and dig into his sides in an attempt to leave her own marks on him, much like he was going to do to her.

“Think you can take your pants off? It’s only fair.” Y/N muttered into his mouth and his own travelled down to her cheek, then neck and to her chest.

“You mean my trousers?”

Her lips quirked up and she shrugged her shoulders. “No, in this case, I meant pants the British way.”

“And if I’m going commando?”

Y/N pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him away from her. “You had nothing underneath all day on set?”

“No! I wouldn’t subject the dressing department to that. But underneath this.” He looked down at his jeans and smiled at her. “I do have nothing.”

“Well then? Get on with it!”

Both of them were giggling, as Y/N tried to unbuckle Harry’s belt, his own fingers mixing with hers as he went for the zipper and the button. He nudged his head towards her. “Your socks and pants come off as well. Or we’ll be unevenly matched.”

Y/N lifted her eyebrow, as she went for her own remaining pieces of clothing. “No socks during sex?”

“No, what kind of a weirdo do you think I am?”

“And if my feet get cold?” She threw them away somewhere.

“We have a blanket.”

As Harry removed his jeans and his own socks, Y/N slipped off the dampened piece of clothing that’d been on her, now both of them completely naked.

“Alright.” He leaned over her again, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling them chest to chest. “Happy now?”

Y/N deeply kissed him. “Very. But I think we can make each other even happier.”

“Agreed,” Harry hummed. “Wanna get a taste first.” He attached his lips to her collarbones sucking a bruise there. “Can I?”

She groaned at the feeling, knowing there be a pleasant ache that accompanied mark. “You can. Don’t have to, if you don’t want. No need to do this for me.”

“And if it’s for me?” Harry was moving lower and lower with each word, wet tongue flicking against a perked bud, and making Y/N gasp. “What if I wanna feel you cum on my tongue, and what if I wanna do something I’ve dreamed about for months now?”

His hands were kneading her breasts, mouth having left a trail of kisses down the middle of her stomach as it was moving towards where an ache that’d been left untreated made itself more and more prominent.

“Then please, please, please do something, Harry.”

“With pleasure.”

Luckily for Y/N, she didn’t have to beg any more, as his mouth attached itself to where she wanted him most, tongue sweeping past her lower lips and licking up a broad, steady stripe.

One of her hands went to fist into her hair and the other into Harry’s. “Shit,” she moaned. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Guide me.” He licked a circle around her clit. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Mhgm, fuck, okay,” Y/N breathed out. “I – I mean you’re doing great on your own.” Her chest was heaving as if she was running a marathon, and Harry shifted her legs so that they lay over his shoulders. “But umm, like if you lick around my clit, but like really press down li – oh, fuuuuck, just like that.”

The coil in her stomach tightened with each pass he did, just like Y/N had instructed, small tight circles just how she did with her fingers, only what took her sometimes half an hour, Harry managed to do in less than ten minutes, to have her toes curling and hands grasping anywhere they could find purchase to just keep onto something real.

The vibrations from Harry humming sent shivers straight to her core. “What else, lovie? What else, do you like?”

“If – if –,” Y/N panted, “if you suck on it, but like – fuck – shit! If you kinda keep a seal around my clit, that fuck! Yes!”

The way Harry was eating her out was almost sensational, but what made it even better wasn’t that he just decided to do something and assumed, she’d like it, he asked, he wanted to learn and discover what made her tick and turn, or in this case – cum.

“Harry, ‘m close,” Y/N warned him, feeling the warmth slowly start to spread all throughout her body.

“I’ll get you there.”

He let his lips go for a moment before slipping two of his fingers so that they pinched her clit and moved them slowly but tightly up and down it, while his tongue went to slip inside her hole, and that did it for her.

With a gasp of air, Y/N’s eyes rolled to be back of her head, hips lifting up as euphoria exploded through her veins. Her mind went completely dizzy, and she was quite sure some drool also dribbled down the side of her mouth because she’d lost all ability to function.

“ -o me, love,” Y/N heard as if through a fog, and then felt two soothing palms running up and down her legs. “Come back, love. There you go.”

A drunken smile bloomed on her face, and she ran a hand down it, the same hand that’d grabbed Harry’s hair like a vice. “Fuck. You’re good, you know what you’re doing.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you enjoyed yourself because I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

She watched as he straightened out to sit on his knees, her legs still over his shoulders, cock slapping against his stomach, and when she looked down there was a wet patch on his side of the sheets, a sly grin morphing on her face. “You liked eating me out so much you came yourself?”

“What can I say – bringing pleasure, gives me pleasure. And your cunt’s probably the sweetest I’ve ever eaten. But… do you think you’re ready for me?” Harry asked, kissing the inside of Y/N’s thighs and watching as she vigorously nodded her head, but he just smirked. “I think I need to test it out. Just to make sure.”

“Harry,” Y/N whined as she felt his fingers skim the apex of her thighs, teasing her.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

With that, he used one of his hands to open up her lips, his thumb pressing down on her already sensitive clit, eliciting a gasp before he allowed two fingers to skim her entrance and then slipped in.

“Still so tight,” he said, watching as Y/N sighed and her mouth fell open, his fingers curling in a come-hither motion. “Told you needed to check if you were ready. What kind of a gentleman would I be now, if I didn’t make sure you could take it?”

Y/N gritted her teeth. “I can take you.”

“Don’t doubt it.” Harry left kisses along her leg, as he continued on with his movements, noting how her hips slowly started to grind down on his palm, so he pushed his fingers in deeper so that the heel of his hand could rest against her clit, making the pleasure intensify. “But I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you when all I wanna do is give you pleasure. And you weren’t stretched out enough. Not yet at least.”

“Oh, god, Harry,” Y/N groaned, one arm thrown over her eyes as his fingers hit just the right spot.

“That’s it? Right there?”

“Yes, right there,” she moaned. “Just. Fuck! Just don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum again?”

“Yes, just – just curl your fingers and twist them a bit more.”

And much like the first time, a couple more times was all it took. Her orgasm was even more powerful than the previous and fully knocked her breath out of her lungs. Her legs fell open around his shoulders, stomach and chest spasming from the intensity.

Gentle fingers skimmed up and down Y/N’s arms and featherlight kisses fluttered over her breasts, then chest, neck and finally were peppered across her cheeks.

“Kinda spaced out on me there. You alright? Not too much?”

“ ’M – I’m good. But I’m pretty sure you’ve killed me.”

Harry chuckled, and Y/N leaned her head to the side so she could press a kiss against the closest of the swallow tattoos. “Hopefully not. I still wanna take you out on that date.”

Her eyes landed on Harry’s left hand’s ring finger, where a golden band still laid.

“Oh, yeah.” He lifted the digits, still covered in her cum before pushing them past his lips and licking them clean. “Forgot to remove it. Hope the prop guys don’t kill me.”

She hated how his eyes sparkled, absolutely knowing what that sight did to her, how it made her stomach flutter and heart thunder against her ribs. Y/N was sure with the force it was pounding, they’d crack.

“Well, if they don’t, I will.” She pulled him down, nails raking on his skin, dragging to rest on his ass as they bit into it. “Now get inside me.”

“Condom.”

“No, ‘m on the pill.”

“I’m clean, I swear, but it’s still not a hundred per cent safe.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’ll buy the morning-after pill. Just need you inside.”

“You sure?” Harry placed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah. I mean I’m clean, and uh… I just wanna feel you.”

He’d cum once already, and Harry would be dammed if he did it again before having the chance to know how heaven feels like. As gently as possible, he took himself, giving a few strokes before nudging the tip against Y/N’s clit, her sharp inhale stalling him until she nodded.

Her nails dug into his biceps, as he finally slipped inside her, making both of them moan at the feeling. Even with all of the stretching out he’d done with his fingers, and the two orgasms he’d drawn from her, the slickness helping everything to be easy and smooth, Y/N still felt a little sting.

Harry’s head dropped to Y/N’s shoulders and even from under him, she could feel his thighs and stomach shaking, as he tried to hold his composure and give her a little bit of time to adjust.

A couple of deep breaths later, she tapped his ribs. “You can move now.”

“ ‘ya sure?”

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded her head and pecked his lips reassuringly. “Please.”

His dishevelled and sweaty hair shook as he nodded and slowly drew back his hips so that just the tip of his cock remained in her before gliding back inside. The sight alone was more than enough to make both of them explode, but they wanted to last longer than thirty seconds, especially for their first time together. There’d be quickies for later, now they wanted to have a proper shag.

Bit by bit, Harry’s pace quickened, pearls of sweat gliding down his skin and dampening the sheets below them, much like it was with Y/N. Her leg slid up to rest around his hips, giving him a better angle and more leverage for him to strike the right spot, as he pushed her knee to rest against her chest, Y/N’s head falling back to the pillow.

Her insides were shaking from the pleasure, and it was like an invisible force was pushing down on her chest, as she struggled for a proper breath. “Harry,” she dragged out his name, the word turning into a high-pitched whine.

“I know,” he responded in the same breathless voice. He could feel her tighten around him and wasn’t sure just how much longer he’d be able to keep up the pace. “Touch yourself ‘f me, lovie. C’mon, use those fingers.”

Y/N did as she was told. It didn’t give her that butterfly feeling like it’d happened when they’d been Harry’s, but it did make her cum faster, and the sensation of her gushing around his cock made him lose all self-control and he spilled inside.

It wasn’t enough for Y/N, but she guessed she needed to settle for it. She knew that nothing really ever touched in the universe, that the closest atoms ever come to touching one another is when their wave packets overlap, much like she and Harry were now overlapping, his body lying on top of hers, skin sweaty and frame trembling as he came down from his own high.

“I uh,” Y/N cleared her throat, finger tracing the outline of one of the butterfly in the middle of Harry’s chest. “When the people came to get my stuff, I umm, asked them to take your rainbow cardigan. Wanted something that smelled like you, so I didn’t feel so alone. Was the first thing I put on when I got out of my hospital gown.”

She felt his body rumble with laughter and a kiss being pressed to her forehead. “I know. Saw Anna stash it inside the suitcase. I uh, I was the one who also put in one of my sweaters. Know how cold you always get.”

She hid her smile against his collarbones. “Thank you. For thinking of me.”

“ 'M always thinking of you… Will you knit me one though?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “Knit you one?”

“Yes. I know you knit –“

“Everyone knits nowadays.”

Harry drew himself back a bit, and she pushed away the matted down strands from his forehead, wiping away the sweat from underneath his green eyes as well. “Yes, but the point is – there’ll be a million other Gucci shirts and sweaters and cardigans. But I’d like to have one-of-a-kind made by you. So, I have something to sleep next to when you’re not next to me.”

Y/N ran a finger along his jawline, biting away her grin. “It’ll probably have mistakes. I’m not that good at it. ‘M not a professional.”

“Exactly.” Harry tilted her head up with a finger and their eyes met. “Which is why it’ll be perfect.”

“The arms will most likely be different lengths in the end.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” He pecked her lips before hugging her and not letting go. “It’s flawless for me.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: My tags are always open :)

P.S. please don’t repost my work without specific written permission onto other platforms :)

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apinchofm · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt: everyone is terrified of Phillipes, daughters, including Mathew and Baldwin. Phillipe finds it hilarious until one day they gang up on him, after he does something to anger them.

gifs by @gifshistorical, @minasgifs, @swcnbella and @brad-pitt

Philippe had trained his three daughters to be stronger in their immortal life. They were his precious jewels. Diamonds - beautiful to look at, sharp when touched.

Freyja would paint him the most beautiful portraits, Stasia had the most beautiful voice, cheering her father up and Verin was fun to compete with in combat or a game of chess.

And yes, they were the most efficient killers and spies. He was so proud. It was a shame their brothers didn't feel the same way.

"Lucius." Philippe greeted his son, "It's good to see you."

"And you, father." Baldwin greeted. He then froze as he sensed the presence of one of his sisters.

"Lucius!" Freyja hugged her big brother with a big smile and Baldwin tried his best not to tense, "Stasia will be so happy to see you!"

Baldwin tutted, "You know, I just remembered father. I left your gift in England. And I have to pick up a thing,"

"But that's two weeks! And what of-" Philippe protested.

Baldwin threw his hands up but was already ordering his bags pack into the carriage.

"Going to England, you say?" Matthew appeared, with a packed bag, "I just received a letter from Godfrey, he needs help with the thing."

"Ah, yes, that thing. We must go at once, brother. Goodbye Father, bye sister!" Baldwin nodded and he and Matthew were gone.

.....

However, when he allowed Louisa to be turned, things took a turn. As in they turned on him.

"Stasia, will you sing for me child?" He asked, coming into the drawing-room where she always was.

"No." She walked out. And she didn't speak to him. Even when he ordered her, she would leave. Her cold shoulder was like a block of ice.

And Freyja burned three of his paintings. In front of him.

Verin saved the best for last, when they were all sat at dinner, the picture of civility.

"Cyanide!" Philippe spat out his wine. He was glad it couldn't kill him, but it tasted awful.

"Father, you should learn to be more careful with your food. You never know what might be in it." Verin said and shared a conspiratorial smile with her sisters. They didn't care for Ysabeau's glare as she checked on her husband.

He recalled all of his sons home with coin letters, meaning they had little choice but to come.

"This is about your sisters," Philippe said as he met with his heir. Baldwin was lounging in his apartments, reading when Philippe came to him.

"Oh?" Baldwin feigned interest.

"They are... unhappy with me. Especially about Louisa's addition to the family.

"As am I. We were supposed to get rid of blood rage." Baldwin said.

"I know." Philippe growled, "But it isn't the blood rage. They don't like that I added another daughter. They hate me. Verin has been testing out her various poisons on me!"

Baldwin laughed. A full-on laugh and he doubled over in his seat.

"You have created three weapons and are now upset that they are using their gifts against you," Baldwin smirked, "Oh, father. You really are a Greek tragedy."

"Help me." Philippe urged.

"Sign this first." Baldwin produced a piece of parchment, and Philippe took it.

"I, Sieur Philippe de Clermont, pledge to limit myself to three daughters and promise to make no more-" Philippe read, "What of Louisa?"

"She is my step-sister and Ysabeau's problem." His son replied, "Would you like my help or not?"

Philippe signed in blood and that parchment was made law in the family. And with a few well-placed buys of castles, dresses and jewellery and the addition of an archery range at Sept-Tours, Philippe won his daughters' favours back.

#adow fic #philippe de clermont #stasia de clermont #freyja de clermont #verin de clermont #baldwin de clermont #matthew clairmont #a discovery of witches #all souls trilogy #philippe's scary daughters

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caelestis-composition · 3 years ago

Text

⭒ childe/reader/zhongli: a friendly little competition ⭒

request for anon: Hello Hello! I was wondering if i could request Zhongli and Childe on a date with the reader?! Like they are both trying to make a better impression than the other in a friendly rivalry!

i’m pretty sure this is my first actual poly fic wow. took me long enough. reader is for sure dating both childe and zhongli, but their relationship can be left up to personal interpretation :)! i hope i understood this request correctly LOL

if you see this posted a couple times or it disappears sorry about that. my posts are being funky but i wanted to test if my tags would work now.

⭒

pairing: childe/reader/zhongli

characters: childe, zhongli

genre: fluff

word count: 826

warnings: alcohol mention

⭒

Liyue Harbor was always stunning, but the night brought out a new kind of beauty. The crowd had long since dwindled, leaving room to breathe on the streets. Streetlamps painting the city in a soft orange glow, candlelight flickering in shops and houses alike. The scents of countless meals being prepared hung in the air, and though sometimes difficult to see, the stars glittered and winked in the dark sky above. There was nowhere else quite like the city, and you loved it.

But in all honesty, you like where you are now best: seated in a private booth at the Third-Round Knockout with Childe and Zhongli. Really, nothing beats wasting away the hours at the funeral consultant’s favorite tavern, everything paid for by the Harbinger. You’d say it’s a mutually beneficial relationship you’ve found yourself in, getting to spend time with the both of them without ever even thinking about pulling out your wallet.

Okay, maybe you benefit most, but they get to spend time with you, and you know neither would complain.

The three of you are seated around a circular table, relaxing with a bottle of Osmanthus wine—another of Zhongli’s favorite things—after a fulfilling meal. The idle chatter of the tavern, albeit muted by the privacy curtain, creates a comfortable, warm atmosphere. On your left, Childe stretches, letting out a content groan as he slumps back in his seat, arms folded behind his head. Zhongli peers at you over his glass as he lowers it, amber eyes softening as they find yours. You offer him a small smile.

“I take it everything was to your liking?” He asks, quirking a brow.

You nod. “As always.”

“Hey, hey,” Childe peeps up, cracking an eye open to stare you down. His lips curl up into a smirk as he unfolds his arms, leaning toward you with his elbows on the table. “Don’t forget who paid for all this.” His blue eyes twinkle with a hint of a challenge.

“Please,” Zhongli counters as you roll your eyes. “You wouldn’t dare let us forget.”

“Maybe you paid, but he picked the place,” you say, tipping your head toward Zhongli, who casts a triumphant glance at the redhead at your declaration of support.

Childe’s eyes narrow, competitiveness sparking in their depths. You’re in for it now.

“You know as much as he does—” he jerks a thumb in Zhongli’s direction. “—that I could take us wherever you want.” You don’t really need to be reminded. It’s not like Zhongli has nothing to his name, but his… impulsiveness regarding Mora means he doesn’t often treat you to lavish outings. Childe doesn’t normally flaunt his wealth, but he won’t hesitate to pull the rich card when he’s feeling petty.

You hear Zhongli chuckle. “Ah, but could you take us anywhere tasteful?” He rises effortlessly out of his chair, striding over and behind you to help you out of yours. Even while trading verbal blows with a Fatui Harbinger, he’s a gentleman. To you, at least.

The empty glasses rattle as Childe stands harshly, bracing his palms on the wooden table. “You know just as well as I do that it’d still be enjoyable,” he practically growls, ocean eyes now dangerously sharp, glaring somewhere above you. You can feel Zhongli place one hand on the back of your chair, the other reaching forward, at your side, for you to take it. Behind you, the man inhales, no doubt preparing to deliver another witty remark.

“Boys, c’mon.” You beat him to it as you take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. “You’re both pretty.”

Childe’s eyes—widening, losing all hostility—snap to yours. His lips slightly parted, a bright blush paints his face as his glare quickly morphs into a dumbfounded expression. You can feel Zhongli stiffen, his hand gripping yours tighter. You swear the man chokes, attempting to cover it up by clearing his throat. Letting out a bark of laughter, you turn to lead the successfully silenced men away from the booth, through the evening crowd and out the tavern. They follow with no resistance.

The night air is refreshing, and you smile as Childe catches up and takes your other hand—the one not being held by Zhongli—into his. He leans in as the three of you walk, head bowed, his breath tickling your cheek when he speaks.

“You’d better wipe that grin off before I do it for you,” the redhead sneers, but there’s no actual malice in his voice. Nose wrinkling, you stick your tongue out at him in response, knocking your hip against his. He retaliates by jolting his shoulder into yours, which in turn makes you bump into Zhongli. The amber-eyed man raises an eyebrow at Childe, but you don’t miss how he huffs in amusement. You squeeze their hands, playfully swinging your arms as you all make your way home.

Someday they’ll learn that it’s you who always wins their silly little competitions.

#zhongli x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #zhongli #genshin zhongli #childe #genshin childe #tartaglia #brynn’s writing #brynn's requests #fluff

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firefly-fromhell · 3 years ago

Text

And the waltz goes on, Ch. 1

Donna Beneviento / Alcina Dimitrescu

So here a fragment of the fic I'm writing. For context: Alcina's best friend introduced her to Donna, and the rest is as follows ✨ If you enjoyed this, consider reading the story on AO3 - link is pinned in my profile. There's 7 chapters so far, I'm working on the rest ❤️

"Are you a painter, Lady Beneviento? " Alcina asked, plucking two glasses of wine from the tray of a nearby server, and offering one to Donna. It had earned a subtle eye-roll from Sorina, but she said nothing aloud.

"I’m a dollmaker. My father was one before me, and I’ve somehow inherited both skill and passion for the craft. Helps with running the business, especially since I’m not overly fond of taxes and bureaucracy," Donna replied, taking the glass from her. "Perhaps you would like a doll for yourself, Lady Dimitrescu? Can I tempt you?" she lifted the glass to her lips, observing Alcina’s reaction.

"Thank you, but not quite. I admire the art itself, but dolls are not particularly fascinating to me," Alcina waved a hand.

"Do reconsider, Alci. It would be your loss - Donna is unrivaled in skill. Those dolls are made with such intricate precision," Sorina joined the conversation, after getting herself a glass of champagne. "Extraordinary work. I especially adore the details in their faces and clothing."

"That’s what I like best about my work, too - the details. Every and any of them, really. From the material someone chooses for their commission, the type of clothing they want me to make, the expression on the doll’s face. Sometimes, I’d even receive a little backstory for who it is or after whose likeness it’s modelled," Donna said, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "It can tell so much about the person who commissions the doll and their character. Truly marvelous," she took another sip of the wine, focusing her eyes on the glass for a moment.

"I am not sure I agree, Lady Donna. The type of art someone is interested in, or their aesthetic sense, is not always the best judge of what the person is like. Apart from their interest in said art, naturally," Alcina replied. "But I suppose we will not be able to test that theory, unless you can access my character from the fact I do not like dolls," she added, a small smile forming on her lips.

"You are correct, my lady, I can’t tell much beyond that fact for now. But," Donna smiled back, eyes lighting up again, "I’m also a great seamstress for human attire," she continued, gently patting her skirt. "You’d just have to send me your measurements, decide on the fabric and cut, and I’ll send you back both the garment and my psychological musings. Does that sound more promising?"

"A multifaceted talent, I see. And to answer your question - yes, it does, so I will give it a thought. You are rather persuasive," Alcina replied, twirling her glass of wine. She was eager to learn more about Lady Beneviento. Not many people tried to push past Alcina's cheekiness or composed façade. Even less people succeeded so quickly in convincing her to reflect on something she did not deem worthy of her attention.

"A businesswoman has to be," Donna shrugged nonchalantly. "What fine things do you find interesting enough to indulge in, then? Professional curiosity," she added with a half smirk. It was enough to catch Alcina off guard - her grey eyes widened slightly as she flashed an amused but sincere smile. Donna tried to beat Alcina at her own game, and chances at winning were now fairly high.

"I enjoy plenty of fine things, Lady Beneviento. Music and dance, mostly," Alcina said, taking a sip of her wine. "Painting and literature, too. I am not particularly good at creating literary work myself, however. Thankfully, I am quite spectacular with the rest," she added, dramatically putting one hand on her waist and slightly lifting her chin up.

"Thankfully, indeed, because you are pretty horrible with the theatrics or attempts at humour," Sorina responded, suppressing a chuckle. "But Donna, you absolutely have to hear Alcina play. She is an exceptional pianist, I daresay the best one I know personally."

"Even a better one than you?" Donna tapped a finger on her lips in contemplation. "Now I’m certainly intrigued, and I’ll have to tell you that rarely happens. So you can expect me to bring this up in any and all future interactions, until you grace me with a performance, Countess Alcina," Donna said, lowering her gaze for just a moment, fixing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Well, this should be interesting - you are not easily intrigued, and I am not easily persuaded. You would have to continue using your businesswoman skills against me," Alcina replied, with a playfulness in her tone.

"Cheers to that," Donna countered, raising her glass higher, as all of them finished their drinks.

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina x donna #benetrescu #donna beneviento #donna x alcina #donnacina #resident evil village #alcidonna #fanfiction #first fanfic #and the waltz goes on fic #re fanfiction

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obae-me · 4 years ago

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hmm mc singing Barbie girl (you know I never noticed when younger but its quite sexual lol) and their reaction? if you're not up for all maybe luci, Satan and belphie?? 👀

Word Count: 2635

Author’s Note: I never noticed how suggestive it was when I was younger either, and even now just reading through the lyrics I connected a few dots I hadn’t before. I’m sorry this took so long, and I hope it’s enjoyable to read! Thank you for your request, Anon!

Lucifer

He had come to check on MC to see how their studies were doing. He respected that they insisted on doing their schoolwork on their own, but he still felt the need to check up on them, just in case. Too often did he find people slacking off.

He was just about to knock on their door when he heard MC’s voice reach his ears through the frame. “Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please, I can act like a Star, I can beg on my knees.”

It was a song he had never heard before, which wasn’t too surprising. He didn’t bother with anything...distasteful. He was a very picky listener. He gave himself a few moments to comprehend the lyrics. It sounded almost like a song Asmo would listen to.

He was taken aback, to be honest. The music itself was absolutely annoying, like some kind of glittery audio, but the lyrics coming out of MC’s mouth stirred something in him. He was a demon for sure, and he was no stranger to the more risque aspects of sin, but to hear such things coming out of their mouth drove him up the wall in more ways than one.

He opened the door without knocking, entering like a shadow. MC didn’t even have a pencil in their hand, dancing in their seat, their schoolwork the furthest thing from their mind.

“You can touch, you can play, if you say I’m always yours-”

MC felt a looming shadow behind them, their voice faltering as their heart fluttered. Lucifer’s hand reached around them, touching their D.D.D. to turn off the infernal melody with the taunting lyrics. MC looked up at him, the frame of his body blocking out the light in their room. He glared at them with red glinted eyes, a smirk tugging at the taut corners of his lips.

“That can easily be arranged.”

A dark shade of red covered MC’s cheeks as Lucifer shut their school book,his gloved hand tracing the spine of the book before doing the same thing to MC’s chin. They didn’t seem to be getting much studying done anyway, so further delaying them would do them no harm, besides, then he would have an excuse to be their strict tutor.

Lucifer is going to want to carry out those lyrics as punishment for MC saying such bold and tempting words in his presence.

Mammon

He had finally managed to get MC in his room to hang out, just the two of them. He had felt that his brothers were spending way too much time with them, and it was his turn to have his human. Lucifer had prevented both of them from going out since it was far too late and all of them had to get up far too early the next day.

To get around this conundrum, Mammon had a bottle of wine and demonus already chilled in his room. He’ll do his best to brush past the fact that he had stolen both of them from his older brother.

It didn’t take too long for both him and MC to get drunk, partying it up in his room much to his siblings annoyance. MC was pumping a bunch of human world music from his loudspeakers, and Mammon was secretly loving it. When Barbie Girl came on, he’ll admit he found it strange at first, his face burning as MC sang the lyrics to the song.

“Life in plastic, it’s fantastic, you can brush my hair, undress me anywhere.”

MC would look at him, glancing his body up and down to the words, almost like they were teasing him. His first reaction was to tell MC that they couldn’t just sing stuff like that. Someone would take it wrong, someone would...he didn’t want anyone else to hear those words but himself.

MC would convince him to sing the other part, begging and pleading with him. He eventually agreed, but only this once, and only because MC was the one who asked.

He’ll get surprisingly into it, and they’ll sing it again and again on repeat so much, they both would be capable of singing it in their sleep. MC would laugh anytime Mammon would purposefully lower his voice to a comical degree.

MC was almost torturing him, singing “If you say, I’m always yours”, dancing with their body moving way too close to his, their eyes painted with a sultry glow. He could only take it for so long before he turned the music off, causing MC to frown. Then he got in real close.

“Yes, you are mine.”

Levi

He had invited MC to a karaoke night, one of the few activities he’d do outside his room. It showed up in anime so often, and he would be able to sing his favorite songs as loud as he wanted without fear of bothering anyone. It was just him and MC, he didn’t want to risk the possibility that his brothers would ruin this already rare opportunity.

He sang some sort of anime opening, and he went hard, hitting notes that MC didn’t even know he could reach. It was beautiful. Levi thought nothing would be able to make this moment any better. Then MC retaliated with Barbie girl, and as soon as the first few lyrics left their lips, Levi went completely still. He was frozen, his concentration buffering.

“I’m a blonde bimbo girl in a fantasy world, dress me up, make it tight, I’m your dolly.”

They were purposefully teasing him, but he couldn’t do anything about it. MC had him completely red, his hands up to cover as much of his embarrassing face as he could. With his eyes still free to watch MC, of course. Sure he had probably heard and seen worse in anime, but he never said anything like that aloud, he had never...heard that aloud...by another person.

MC directed it all towards him, bouncing up and down on their feet as they sang, giving him flirtatious winks. If this were an anime, not only would he have had a severe nosebleed, but his soul might’ve just floated out from his body. Unfortunately for him, this wasn’t an anime. He was still frozen to his seat.

“You can touch, you can play.”

MC came on over to him and sat next to him, getting real close to him, tugging at the collar around his neck, playing with the stray hairs at the bottom of his head. He got so freaked out, he slipped out of his own seat and onto the floor, accidentally dragging MC along with him. MC almost couldn’t continue singing due to how much they wanted to laugh.

“If you say, I’m always yours.”

Right now it seemed as if MC had him as theirs instead of the other way around, with them on top of him on the floor, Levi feeling like he was literally melting. He wasn’t a huge fan of anything without some sort of connection to anime or video games, but he’d give this song a pass this one time.

Satan

While he can be a fan of some music, he typically likes silence, it makes things easier to read. But when MC asked if they could listen to some of their music while they studied together, he let them. He was curious about their tastes if anything. He took it as an opportunity to learn more about them, but he didn’t know that they were planning on testing his patience.

Their songs came up randomly, each one of them obnoxious noises. Satan knew immediately that the only reasoning to them was to see which one annoyed him most. MC tried hard to hide the smile on their face, but Satan’s expression left them highly amused.

He had just about had enough, ready to blow a fuse along with MC’s D.D.D. Then Barbie Girl came on. The breathy squeaky noises felt like they had taken a few centuries off his lifespan, but then MC started singing to it.

“You can brush my hair, undress me anywhere.”

He pressed his hand to his chest. This kind of song, these words, this behavior...was completely inappropriate. It’s what he wanted to say anyway, but anytime MC sang something else, he found himself speechless.

“Imagination, life is your creation.”

He ended up having to turn his head away from them, closing his eyes and doing his best to tune them out long enough to get his focus back, to get his logic back. He was ignoring the growing heat in his face.

He didn’t move until the song was done, and then he hastily took MC’s device from them, turning the music off and then insisting that they get stuff done. MC whined a little bit but obliged, having been mostly satisfied by his behavior.

The only thing was, now Satan was lost in his own mind and thoughts, unable to even comprehend what he was reading. MC would ask him a question, and he would find it difficult to even try to come up with a solid answer. He could only look into MC’s eyes and angrily shut all his books.

There would be no more studying tonight.

Asmo

Human world music or not, he knows this one by heart, and he loves it. It’s so playful and sexual, it’s exactly his thing. So, it was actually Asmo who had the song playing in the first place, much to MC’s surprise.

He had MC over for one of their self-care nights. He would do their nails, their hair, make sure their skin was nice and moisturized, and maybe they’d let him give them a deep massage. He had some of his music playing to set the mood. Some of his hype songs. When Barbie Girl came on, MC snapped their head up in surprise.

“You know this song?”

Asmo almost had to put down his polish, exasperated at the question. “Do I know this song?? Honey, I adore this song.”

He was the one who started singing, making his body sway and move as he gave MC flirtatious glances. MC shrugged, figuring the song was too catchy to not join in with. Asmo had never been so excited, he wanted to shout, maybe post it on Devilgram.

“Kiss me here, touch me there, hanky panky.”

He’s heard people talk dirty before, trust him, he’s just never heard MC talk like that before. Even if they were just singing goofy lyrics of a song, he had always wondered what it would be like for them to say such things. Only now, now that Asmo had finally had a little taste of what he wanted, he couldn’t handle it.

He had been doing his nails, but now his entire finger had nail polish over it. The air in his lungs was suddenly absent. He felt like breaking the bottle in his hands, so he quickly put it down.

“You can touch, you can play, if you say-”

MC had been interrupted by Asmo almost body slamming them against his bed. They stammered and sputtered for words as Asmo whined and almost cried for them to stop giving him false excitement, he wouldn’t be able to take it.

MC, maybe slightly influenced by the song, the mood the demon of Lust had set, and maybe some alcohol, told Asmo that maybe they wouldn’t mind if it were him.

Screw his nails, he had more important things to do right now.

Beel

MC swore the only reason why Beel even knew what flirting meant was because he had Asmo for a brother. He didn’t really take any steps himself to be promiscuous, and if he ended up doing something...spicy, he didn’t really mean to.

So when he came into the kitchen to check on MC while they were on cooking duty, he wasn’t sure how to feel. At first, he was just so happy to hear MC sing, if they were happy, it meant the food they were making would taste ten times better. Somehow he knew how someone was feeling based on the food they made.

Then his second reaction was towards the actual words they were singing. It made his stomach feel kind of full, even though he hadn’t eaten anything for a few minutes. MC was looking pretty tasty...

Then he shook his head to himself, shooing away those kinds of thoughts. It was just a song, nothing to get so worked up over for. He wasn’t like Asmo. Or his other brothers apparently.

MC will admit they were a bit disappointed when Beel started rummaging through the kitchen for a few pre-dinner snacks, ignoring the song. They expected a bit more of a response. MC loved trying to get a jolt out of the demon brothers, but Beel was Beel.

The demon of gluttony just kept them company while they cooked, none of the lyrics setting him off. He just happily munched on some crackers. Beel told MC they had a lovely voice, and while he wasn’t a huge fan of the song, he respected their taste in music.

He was almost too pure sometimes.

Belphie

He had been asleep for much too long, and in such a deep sleep, nothing seemed to be able to wake him up. Each of the brothers had tried and subsequently failed. They had given up on him, even Beel who went off in some search for food after his attempts left him starved. Only MC remained, and they tried the first thing that came to their mind.

For some reason their idea had been playing Barbie Girl and singing it to him in the most ridiculous way possible. They turned the song up on their D.D.D. at full volume and started dancing and singing on his bed while he remained fast asleep.

“Come on Barbie, let’s go party, ah ah ah yeah.”

With each little ‘ah’ and ‘oo’ that came out of their mouth, they poked Belphie’s body. Still nothing. If MC wasn’t able to see his chest moving and the air from his nose pushing the hair covering his face, they would’ve been convinced he was dead.

Except the fact was, he was awake, wide awake in fact, he was just pretending to be asleep. MC’s voice had both the power to snap him awake or lull him to sleep. Right now he was doing his best to stay still as they continued.

Yes, he kinda wanted to kill them for waking him up. Yes, the song was driving him absolutely crazy in the worst way. But also, MC kept touching him and saying things he had never heard them say before. The breath against his pillow was getting warmer, his nerves feeling jittery.

When they finished, MC was a bit disappointed to find Belphie still ‘asleep’, their plan had failed. They turned the music off and missed Belphie’s immense sigh of relief. They went to move off his bed, but he snapped to attention to grab their ankles. In a blur of movement, Belphie had them pinned down on his bed.

He had planned on just falling back asleep on top of them, but their expression...now he was awake, restless, and left with only one way he would be satisfied enough to sleep.

Bonus: Each and every one of the demon brothers has had this infernal song stuck in their head for literal days. A few of them don’t quite mind, and for the rest of them, they wonder if they’ve been subjected to some sort of torture. Lucifer has banned the song for eternity, and each of his siblings, with himself included, has some sort of demand for MC to fulfill as payment.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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hattiepins · 4 years ago

Text

Expectations

Zeke Yeager/Reader 18+ Chapter 1/??? Warnings: Alcohol mentions, explicit content a/n: I haven’t posted fic to tumblr in literal years so here’s me christening my new AOT blog with some Zekefucking. This fic will eventually have an actual plot, and I have it mapped out, but for now it’s just smut so have fun with it. I’m also on ao3 w the same @ if you prefer that layout better.

Zeke Yeager was an incredibly imposing man. The warriors were an intimidating group to anyone who had heard of them, but there was something special about him.

You had “met” several years ago, at work cleaning the imposing Marleyan government building that served as the warrior headquarters in Liberio. Most of the year it was filled with children hopeful that if they worked hard enough, dedicated their hearts firmly enough, and bought into the belief that they too could bring honor to their homeland, they could be worthy of inheriting a titan.

You liked children, and though it hurt to see them pushed into the grim roles they took up at the compound, you would occasionally share excited chats with them in the halls, rooms, or courtyards of the massive complex. You’d scrub the floors of the messes left behind by their muddy boots, or the walls of the grime that accumulated every week, and the candidates, being the chatty little kids that they were, would update you on their days. Who beat who in what race, how fast so and so could disassemble then reassemble a rifle. On a good day of work you were given a run down of everything.

On special days, though, the Marleyan warriors themselves would show up. A woman with unruly dark hair, a tall and disheveled scruffy man, and a blonde with a slicked back undercut all would often pass you by.

But Zeke Yeager? He always stood out to you the most. Anyone who could spare enough pocket change for a paper would know of the great feats of the beast titan and the man who held it. There had never been quite anything like him before in history, and his accomplishments on the warfront were praised as the ace up Marley’s sleeve in many battles.

In reality though, Zeke bore no resemblance to his titan, with there being no visual similarity between the terrifying monster printed on the front page of every news story and the warrior who controlled it.

He was tall, with a laid back posture that stood in stark contrast to his own mythic status. A legend among Eldians, and a fearsome specimen among all men, with his steely grey eyes and furrowed brow. He always looked as if he had something weighing on his mind whenever you spotted him, be it alone, or with his comrades.

You would absentmindedly toy with the hem at the edge of your own grey armband every time your eyes glanced over their red ones, not envying their lives as warriors but wondering what it must be like, being honorary Marleyans.

None of them ever noticed your presence, and why should they? You were the cleaning girl, a part of the scenery.

So then it comes as quite the shock when, tonight, as you head to the pub around the corner from the compound, Zeke Yeager recognizes you.

The place isn’t anything fancy, but it’s halfway between work and the run-down tenement you can afford to rent on a maid’s salary. You go here on your days off, when you want more than anything to just relax, have a drink, and listen to the gramophone at the bar play music that you’d never get to hear otherwise. It’s a surprise enough to even see Zeke here, but the way he reacts to seeing you has your heart seize up a bit in your chest.

He waves you over with his hand clutching his drink, calling your name with a voice just loud enough to be heard over the scratchy, poorly recorded music of the wax cylinder recording, his face plastered with a smug expression.

You blink slowly, as if closing your eyes will somehow remove him from the table in front of you and confirm that just a few sips of your drink have led to full on hallucinations. But you do not move.

Catching onto your nervousness, Zeke raises the glass of warm swill this poorly stocked Eldian pub calls drinks, swirling the liquid inside as he motions towards your general direction.

“Come on now, that’s your first drink of the night in your hands. I know you aren’t far gone enough to not recognize the sound of your own name.”

The volume of his voice is louder than you would like. A necessity, you know, for him to be heard over the sound of the gramophone, but still embarrassing.

You gesture stupidly at yourself with your pointer finger, and he nods, brows raised and mouth smiling with pursed lips as if he’s trying to stifle a laugh at your blatant confusion.

He, in turn, gestures for you to take a seat next to him at the small booth he holds for himself in the corner.

“You’re the cleaning girl, right?” He says.

And for as awkward as that introduction is, it doesn’t stop you from joining him.

“How did you know- where did you learn my name?” You drum your fingers against the base of your drink, still slightly nervous.

“I’m observant.” He takes a sip of his own drink.

“That, and you’re more well known than you’d think. The Grice boys talk about you sometimes. The younger one, Falco, is pretty damn fond of you, actually. Says you’re a good listener. Likes talking to you. His brother’s the one set to inherit my titan.”

You stare at him, a little shocked to hear that the candidates even remember you beyond simple hallway chatter, let alone that a warrior has actually taken note of your reputation with the children.

“Falco’s a good kid. Colt too.” Your lips quirk up into a small smile, thinking about the two blond boys, always polite and courteous. They even bothered to get to know you by name, and always seem to ask about your day before telling you about their own.

“You’re quite the conversationalist for someone who the government pays to mop floors and dust shelves all day.”

You tense up, and suddenly, for a moment, a sense of sudden clarity and fear grips you. Is this an interrogation? Does Zeke Yeager think you’re a spy because you’re too chatty with the candidates? You knew this felt off, there’s no way that he’d invite you here just to ta-

“If I’m honest, I noticed you first because I was shocked that a pretty face like yours would be working scrubbing dirt. Didn’t put a name to said face until Colt started bringing you up almost just as often as his little brother. But I’m a good listener.”

He smiles, repeating your name with a soft smile as if testing out the sound of it.

“It’s a pretty name. Suits you. I try and keep things professional at the compound. Lots of eyes and ears. Granted there’s definitely a few in this place right now, but we don’t have to worry about them.”

You lift your head with a start, eyes scanning the bar, all a sea of patrons with worn clothes and grey armbands. None of them stand out as being particularly unique. None accept the man with the red around his arm seated across from you. He sticks out like a vibrant wine stain against white cotton, and though the patrons know better than to stare, you catch them sneaking “coincidental” glances his way.

Their eyes rest on him, then flicker away to observe the much less interesting rest of the bar as if it’s merely chance that they managed to get caught looking.

You let your gaze wander over all the faces in the crowd, trying to see who he might be referring to. To see who could be watching.

“Shit, could you be a little less obvious, sweetheart?”

The sudden affectionate name has your heart flutter in your chest in a way you absolutely were not expecting, and as you turn your gaze back to him, an embarrassed flush creeping its way across your cheeks, you see his smirk grow. He’s smug, but you suppose he has all the reason in the world to be, with all his accomplishments.

Zeke, you thankfully come to realize as your conversation progresses, is not here to report you to the higher ups for something or another, nor does it seem that anyone in the bar is particularly interested in your chatter.

You do, however, find that Zeke Yeager is not only a very powerful presence, but that he’s very handsome. It was something you didn’t particularly notice at the compound, mostly because you tried to avoid being in the way of your superiors in the warrior unit, but also because the stories you’d heard of the beast titan’s strength painted the man as a brute.

Instead, you find yourself enthralled by him. He has beautiful hair, and his beard is kept very nicely trimmed. The way his grey eyes light up when he learns you two share a similar taste in novels has your breath catching in your throat.

You list off your recent reads, only to find that he’s also read most everything on the list. He says he’s an avid reader, especially when they ship him out. It helps him keep his mind off of the fighting to think of smaller problems than wars.

“I couldn’t put it down.”

You find yourself raving about your latest literary obsession.

“The way the whole town just watched her descent into madness was so painful to read, but I wanted to know why they hated her in the first place so badly.”

You have long since finished your drink, but the conversation with Zeke ensures that you absolutely do not want any more. The last thing you want to do is slur your speech in a conversation about your shared interests, and especially not when those interests are shared by a very handsome man.

“The reveal of how her daughter was framed had me glued to every word. And the ending!” He leans back in his seat, like he’s processing it all over again just speaking about it.

“Lighting the whole town on fire… they say revenge is a dish best served cold, but reading about her walking through the burning streets…”

“Brilliant.”

His smile is captivating.

You remind yourself that this man is an honorary Marleyan, and you are just a regular Eldian who is lucky enough to have enough pocket change at the end of the month to even buy those novels.

But for as much as Zeke insists that you are well known at the compound for being a great conversationalist, you find that the same compliments the Grice boys have paid to you apply tenfold to him. You don’t want to stop talking.

When the bar closes, you don’t say your goodbyes and head home. Instead, you find yourself continuing your conversation in the streets of Liberio, walking the cobblestone roads at what must be at least two in the morning. Your conversation never has a single slow moment.

You don’t think the slightly intimidated feeling you get while next to him will ever fully subside. He is, after all, much larger than you, and you feel dwarfed by him as you walk side by side, looking up at his handsome face. You’ve switched conversation topics through nearly a dozen different novels now, and your ideas bounce off one another perfectly.

He mutters how your theory about a plot twist and it’s possible connection to the yet unreleased next book in the series might be one of the best ideas he’s heard, and his little smile while he does so is captivating.

“You’d serve better as a critic than a cleaner, you know.” He says with a laugh.

And you smile, because for a moment, by Zeke’s side, you almost forget it’s Liberio’s streets that you’re walking, and that you can’t hope to aim too high. All that exists for now is the two of you, and the words you share.

As you walk under the lamplight through deserted streets, you take notice of the way he scratches his ear when he’s thinking, but more specifically your eyes fixate on his hands themselves. They’re big, and you purse your lips imagining how little your hands would be in his. He admittedly dresses like an old man, and while his wardrobe is nothing fancy, it doesn’t hide his impressive stature.

His broad shoulders and military status imply an impressive body under the loose fitting coat he wears, and you feel like a repressed schoolgirl just looking at the exposed skin of his neck and how the muscles there tense when you bring up some narrative choice or another that you both didn’t enjoy. Your cheeks flush as you watch him take a drag of his cigarette, holding it between two thick fingers.

He seems to take notice of your stares, but says nothing to discourage you. In return, you catch him eyeing you a few times too, but unlike you, he doesn’t get flustered when you notice him clearly staring.

It’s still fairly chilly out, and your warm coat doesn’t do your body any favors, but that doesn’t stop his glances.

When the two of you cross a bridge, you find yourself staring up at the moon and how it’s surface reflects on the wide river below. Zeke leans over the rail, taking yet another drag of his cigarette, and you cautiously reach out a hand to his. He makes no move to shift away from you as you lock your arm in his.

You continue your walk like that, the feeling of closeness making you far more flustered than you should be. It’s only proper for a man to escort a lady by the hand when it’s so late. But you’re no lady, you’re a maid. And Zeke’s glances are growing far from proper, even as the topic remains firmly on literature.

When he invites you up to his apartment to see his books, you both know you won’t be doing any actual reading. But you let him lead you through the streets and up countless flights of stairs regardless.

He turns the key in the lock, and you enter, following his lead in kicking off your boots and hanging up your coat by a hook on the wall. You barely have time to take in how nicely furnished the home of an honorary Marleyan is before he has you pressed against the door, closing it shut with the weight of both of your bodies against it.

You gasp at the impact, and run your fingers through his soft blond locks as he presses his lips to yours in an open mouthed and greedy kiss. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot against you as he pulls away.

“Do you want to-?”

“Yes. God, yes.” You pull at his coat, hoping he’ll get the message, and he does.

He shrugs it off, and then his lips are against yours again. Your touch traces down along his back, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt until it comes untucked from his pants and you can slide your hands underneath it, feeling the warmth of his skin.

He fumbles with the buttons of your own blouse, before tearing it off of your shoulders as he unfastens the last one, and you can hear his breath catch in his throat as his hands move to touch you.

His mouth parts from yours to get an eyeful of your body, his fingers trace the edge of your bra, watching how your chest heaves against the constraints of the lacey garment with every breath. He groans, the sound guttural in his throat, and fuck, you need him. He brings his lips to your neck, kissing and biting his way down to your collarbone.

“Can we please get this thing off?” His thumbs hook at the straps of your bra.

“Marley’s greatest warrior can’t figure out how to unhook a bra?” You smile as you reach for the clasps.

“Bigger things on the mind right now, sweetheart.” His tongue runs against a spot at the base of your neck that his teeth just bit at, soothing the skin.

“Oh?” You drop your bra to the ground, and he is quick to grab a handful of your breasts, teasing lightly over your nipples. You moan as he slides his hands down your torso, stopping as he gets a handful of your ass, kneading at it with a grin.

“You enjoying yourself there?”

He hums as he presses you further against him and lifts. You let out a startled whimper, your legs wrapping around his hips and hiking up your long skirt in the process. He lifts his head from your neck and looks down at you, hunger in his grey eyes.

“Trying to figure out if I can even get you to the bedroom, or if I’m gonna have to fuck you right here against the wall.”

Zeke grinds his hips against yours, and through your soaked panties you can feel him strain against his trousers. He’s so horny it hurts, and he hisses at the little bit of contact, bucking against you.

“Fuck, baby, need you to decide.”

“B-bed.” You wrap your arms tighter around him and wiggle your hips just enough to get more of that delicious friction. Zeke doesn’t have to be told twice as he carries you to his bedroom and practically throws you into his mattress. It’s soft as a cloud, and you feel yourself sink into it, pulling your skirt from your hips, letting it fall in a pool at the edge of the bed.

Still situated at the side of Zeke’s massive king size bed, you spread your legs, your stockings and your panties all that’s left on you. You circle your clit through the fabric, and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, his eyes fixed on your clothed pussy like a hungry animal. He makes quick work of his own clothes, undoing the buttons of his shirt and stepping out of his trousers, stripping to his boxers.

Your cheeks flush as you take in the sight of his bare chest. He’s toned in the way only a warrior could be, and there’s a small dusting of blonde hair that trails from his bellybutton to somewhere below his waistband. He towers over you, imposing and arousing at the same time. He looks like a marble statue, beautiful and powerful and perfect. You can see the outline of his bulge against the grey fabric of his underclothes, and he palms himself lazily, his eyes clouded with lust behind his glasses.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

You scoff. “Could say the same thing to you.”

He smirks, and you want nothing more than to kiss him. For a moment it looks like he’s about to do just that. Instead, he sinks to his knees between your legs.

“What are you-?”

“Gotta get you ready for me first, babygirl.” He says, hooking his fingers under your panties and pulling them down, letting you kick them off your legs.

“Are you joking? I’m already soaking, you don’t-“

You’re cut off by the feeling of his hot breath against you.

He runs his fingers against your folds, and you bite your lip before he shoves two thick fingers inside. The noises you make as he hooks them inside you have him painfully hard and straining against his boxers, but he knows what he wants. He pulls his fingers from you, earning him a whimper.

“Fine. I can be transparent here.” He groans as he kisses at your inner thigh. “Just wanna bury my face in your cunt, nothing else to it.”

You whimper as his lips circle your clit, the burn of his beard between your thighs coupled with the feeling of his hot breath against you has him having to hold your hips in place to keep your squirming down.

“Z-Zeke, I-”

“Hm?” He releases your clit from his lips but licks slow stripes up between your folds now.

“Too much.”

He teases the tip of his tongue against your hole, his moans the only response. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he pushes it inside of you. His mouth works against you, making you grind against his face.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so good…”

He’s a madman as he devours your cunt, and you have full confidence that Zeke could make you cum with just his tongue. Instead, he opts to do otherwise, spurred on by the delicious sounds you’re making. You cry out as he circles his lips back around your clit and plunges two thick fingers inside of you.

You can barely think as he curls them into you, fucking his fingers into your weeping cunt while his tongue laps at your clit.

“I’m- I can’t-”

“You can.” He adds a third finger, and the stretch is so food, so filling, as he watches you fall apart. “Good girl, my pretty little slut, come on.”

His tongue never ceases for long, even as he speaks. “Come for me.”

You’re falling apart under his touch, cries and moans spilling out of your mouth as you cum into his. You clamp your thighs down around his head as he keeps fucking his fingers into you, running his tongue desperately against your little bud as you writhe beneath him, only stopping when he feels he’s had his fill of your taste.

He lifts himself up and pushes you further into the bed, letting your head rest on the pillows as he leans on his side next to you.

“You’re a quiet little thing whenever I pass you in the compound. Never knew you could be that loud.”

You’re panting, still coming down from your orgasm.

“Never been fucked in the compound.”

“We can change that.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you whine. “Can we start with here first?”

His beard is wet with your slick as he grips your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and you moan as you tug at the waistband of his boxers.

You remove your lips from his to look down at the shape of him, still straining against the fabric.

“Zeke, please…”

He sits up on his knees at the end of the bed, hovering over you, thumbs toying at the elastic.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”

Your little nod is all he needs, pulling his boxers off. You watch as his hard cock springs free of confinement and slaps itself against his stomach. It’s big, and you’re practically drooling at the sight. He crawls over you, lining himself up with your hole, rubbing the tip over your clit. He smirks, watching how you whine and writhe at his teasing.

“You have to beg for it, sweetheart. Let me know how much you want it.”

He fists his cock, leaking precum all over your slit as he drags the head up and down your folds.

“Fuck, Zeke, please fuck me. Need you so bad, just please...”

He grips your hips hard, lines himself up with your hole, and bottoms out in one quick thrust.

You moan and he curses under his breath. It’s so much, all at once. The stretch is much more than his fingers prepared you for, and it’s overwhelming, even with how wet you are. It’s a little painful, but it hurts so good.

“F-fuck, move, fuck me, please. Please, please, please, please.”

He pants into your shoulder as he follows your request. Zeke grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head, kissing and sucking at your neck, leaving little purple marks.

“So pretty like this, letting me fill you up so good. Gonna leave my mark everywhere I can on you. You gonna come to work with your neck all marked up from me? Huh?”

You pant and grind your hips against his as he pistons in and out of you. “Y-yes.”

“Gonna advertise to every soldier there that you’re mine? My little whore? You like being fucked like this?” He pulls back out all the way, only to thrust back in at just the right angle that has you seeing stars.

“Yes!”

“You know how long I’ve thought about this? Wanted to just p-pull you into a supply closet and fuck you til you forgot your own name, ‘cuz hell, I didn’t even know it back then, but now…”

He traces his hand down to your clit, and starts to rub circles against it.

“You’re perfect, you know that? F-Fuck... Perfect for me. Fit me so good, god, you’re so tight.”

“Zeke, s’too good, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby, I know. Me too. Come for me, it’s ok.”

He captures your lips in a hungry kiss, and the closeness is not enough and too much all at once. You can’t tell where he begins and you end and suddenly your orgasm is washing over you in waves as you scream his name. Your arms struggle against his grip and he relents as you cream around his cock. You grab at his back, nails sinking hard into the skin, and you swear he’s letting off steam as your fingers scratch down his back in ecstasy.

Zeke fucks you through it, thumb still playing with your clit as he hammers into you, hips snapping against yours at a rhythm much less even than before.

“Beautiful. So fucking beautiful with my name on your lips and my cock in your cunt.”

You whine, still barely coherent and too fuckdrunk to think as he pounds you hard enough to make the bedframe creak and the headboard slam against the wall.

“G-good girl, you like being a good little-fuck- good little cocksleeve for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck.”

You’re so overstimulated it hurts. He keeps hitting just the right spot, and while he’s still toying with your sensitive nub, you can tell he can barely hold his focus. He removes his fingers from you and buries his head in your shoulder. His beard is rough against your skin as he lets out a few last thrusts into your cunt, his grip on your hips enough to bruise.

Zeke pulls out and fists himself a few more times, panting before he empties his load on top of you, white ropes of cum shooting out of him as he finishes onto your stomach. Zeke collapses, panting, by your side. He pulls you against him and kisses the top of your head.

You practically purr at the affectionate gesture, and lean into his touch.

He sighs, removes his glasses, and carefully places them on the bedside table, relaxing into the comfort of the bed.

His eyes are closed, and as you snuggle closer to him, you can feel his heartbeat slowly start to return to normal along with your own.

“I think now’s the time I should ask where your bathroom is so I can clean off?” You breathe out, tracing figure eights lazily against the muscles of his chest.

He lets out a tired laugh. “You’re not at work. No cleaning right now. You can afford to be a little messy for a while.”

You hum, unwilling to admit you’re fine either way. You guiltily realize you enjoy the feeling of his cum on your skin, and, instead of admitting that embarrassing thought, you kiss him again.

You whisper against his jaw. “I should go home soon, just-”

He claims your lips in his again to shut you up. “Stay.”

You lay by his side on the same pillow, faces inches from eachother.

That night, you stay. You fall asleep in his arms, and everything somehow feels right. He feels right.

You hate going home to your shitty apartment after that. And Zeke hates seeing you go.

Every week you repeat it all like routine.

Zeke is always there at the pub. You always end up in an endless conversation before following him home, and leaving the next morning to prepare for your afternoon shift.

It only takes one month of this torture for him to ask you to move in.

“Would make it easier. Better than me pretending it’s a coincidence I’m there almost every time you have a day off.” He mutters into your shoulder, as he holds you close.

It’s the easiest decision you’ve ever made.

You laugh at how his beard tickles your skin, pressing yourself further into him, to which he responds by wrapping an arm around you tighter and smiling that smug grin against your skin as you card your fingers through his blond locks and whisper “I figured it wasn’t a coincidence by the third time it happened.”

He kisses you, and cradles your cheek in the palm of his hand. For what feels like the hundredth and the first time, you drift off to sleep in his arms.

You never return to your old apartment, even to grab your things. Zeke has the same books as you, and his bed always was nicer. He buys you much better clothes to make up for what little loss of wardrobe you went through.

You can’t aim too high in Liberio. But with him, you feel like you’ve started over on a clean slate.

And for a time, though you never put a name on it, Zeke Yeager is yours.

#zeke x reader #zeke yeager x reader #me strolling into aot reader fic tumblr like hello I am new in town #I wrote this in an insomniac daze #aot x reader #snk x reader #this will have a plot later but for now I am just sitting here hoping it's both comprehensible and people will like it

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