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foreverdolly · 1 year

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𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 |80's mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80s mechanic! austin x childhood best friend!reader

word count: 4.8k

notes/warnings: SMUT! in part two, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying. (this is going to have to be two parts because it turned out too long after editing. the smut alone is like. . . five pages on google docs.)

The incessant metallic clinging and loud mechanic whirs echoed against the cement flooring of the auto body garage. The sun was peeking just over the trees right outside the open garage doors, the spring sky slowly burning gold and pink. Most of the men were rushing to finish up with the vehicles that they were working on, eager to get home to their families after a long day of work. There was one mechanic though -who might be young, but made up for it with skill- was still elbow deep under the car’s hood, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. He’d only been looking at the car for five minutes and knew exactly what was wrong with it. The elderly woman had gotten her car towed all the way to Travis’ shop after the damn thing stalled out in the middle of the Winn-Dixie parking lot. The young mechanic could see her through the lobby’s windows watching him, her tiny wrinkly hands balled up into nervous fists.

“Aye- Austin?” Travis jogged right up to Austin, placing his hand down on one of the side mirrors as he waited for the diagnosis.

“It’s not the engine. The transmission,” He pointed towards the old hunk of junk, leaning his head back under the hood to show his boss. “It’s completely shot. She said it will jerk when she accelerates and the wheel will sometimes shake when she’s goin’ fast enough. What’s happening is that it’s slippin’. The damn thing won’t stay in gear. This car is ten years out of date- I mean. . . It's a ‘74. So even if we order the parts-”

“It’s gonna cost more to fix than it would be for her to just buy a whole new one.” The boss finished for him, sighing when he saw Austin nod his head in agreement.

The long haired blonde blinked his eyes against the burning sunset, shooing a gnat away from his face as he leaned his hip against the car. He crossed one booted foot over the other as he waited patiently for the man to make a decision. While Travis enjoyed making money, Austin knew that the bastard was above stealing it from little old ladies. With a small huff of defeat the middle aged man began walking back in the direction of the lobby, most likely to break the bad news. He stopped just before he opened the door, pointing a quick finger-gun in Austin’s direction.

“Are you comin’ over to Mark’s cookout tonight? You can bring your girl.” He called out over the loud noise.

Austin shook his head before flashing the man a little face of distaste.

“I’ve gotta go to my dad’s house to grab some of my old shit. Besides- I don’t have a girl to bring.”

Travis shot him “a face” right back, but one of disbelief. “Yeah, right. A girl doesn’t just bring her friend a hand packed lunch every other day unless she was hopin’ for somethin’ to happen between them..” And before Austin could even defend himself the man was gone, sauntering solemnly over to the corner where the elderly woman was sitting.

You weren’t the one that was hoping for a chance at romance, but Austin was. He’d rather die than admit it, but his co-workers' words lit a small fire in his chest; a hopeful pyre that didn’t dim.

The wooden stairs were old and weather worn, the nails rusted with age. Austin always felt a sense of dread when he heard the familiar creaking under his feet, and the fact that he could hear the television droning on from inside of the trailer didn’t make it any better. It meant that he was home, and the blonde knew what that meant. A fight was sure to ensue, and after the shitty day that he had at work, that was the last thing that he wanted to endure. He found that the door was unlocked, per usual. The inhabitant of the rickety death trap didn’t have anything worth stealing.

“Why are you here?” The middle aged man looked terrible for his age, though Austin blamed that on the endless supply of alcohol and drugs that ran through the man’s system.

Austin cleared his throat, closing the door behind him with a grimace. He didn’t want to be here, but there were still a few boxes back in his old room that he needed to grab. After that he’d be gone for good, or at least that’s what he told himself anyway. His no-good father was used to relying on other people to save the day, one of those people being his own son.

He blamed his strong sense of duties on the fact that he was raised in the deep south. “Being a man” was hammered into his skull from the moment of his very conception. Taking care of your family, especially when they are unable to do it for themselves, was considered a must. Austin had always hated his father. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he had felt gratitude or love in any magnitude towards his father. Still, he was a man and needed to provide for his family. . . right? He didn’t want anyone to think less of him for abandoning his father. More than anything, he didn’t want the wrong kind of gossip ending up in the wrong people’s ears.

What was important to him now was getting the hell away from his abusive father. He was old enough to start thinking about what he wanted for himself in the future. He’d always craved companionship with a certain person. . . children were on his radar too. The last thing he wanted was for his druggie father to be in his own kid’s lives.

The lanky man didn’t fit in the small home anymore, and he hadn’t for years. Both physically and emotionally, he had outgrown his prison many moons ago. He took a few seconds to look around the living room. Now that he wasn’t there to clean up after the grotesque man, the house smelled absolutely putrid. Austin’s nose wrinkled in disgust, eyes dancing along the empty beer cans and overflowing sink.

“Jus’ gettin’ the last of my stuff.” Austin grumbled, his bulky black boots sticking to the dirty linoleum floors as he tried his best to breeze past the older man’s old recliner.

A hand reached out, gripping at his wrist to stop him. Austin looked down, the muscles in his sharp jaw clicking as he held back the urge to rip himself out of the man’s reach. He knew that he was too big for the man to intimidate now, but his body still remembered the pain his father had put him through as a kid.

“Ya talkin’ bout that toolbox?” The man’s voice was gravely, all thanks to the menthols he religiously smoked. Austin could smell the Miller Light and smoke coming off of him now. It was nauseating.

The blonde ripped his eyes off of the man’s face, peeking off down the hall to see his old bedroom door wide open. He had locked it from the inside and crawled out the window the last time that he was here, taking the spare key with him. It was still tucked away safely in his wallet. His breathing stuttered when he realized that the doorknob had been taken off completely.

“I need it for work. What did you do with it?” Austin tried to school the deep southern accent out of his voice. He got into the habit of doing that around his father from a young age, desperately wanting to seem as different from the old man as possible.

“If that’s what yer here for, don’ bother. I sold it.” The young adult’s heart sank to his ass, and this time he didn’t hesitate in ripping his wrist out of the man’s hand.

“To who? Where is it?” Austin questioned heatedly, staring daggers into the old man’s face.

The sandy haired man was staring back at the television now, watching old reruns of some shitty old Western movie that must have come out in the sixties. He didn’t answer Austin, too drunk to care and too high to listen.

“Dad!” Austin’s deep voice boomed, echoing around the filthy trailer. “Where the fuck did you take it? The pawn shop off’a Assembly Street?” That was where his father often sold stolen shit for a few extra bucks.

That got the other man’s attention. He didn’t take kindly to being yelled and cursed at, especially not by his son. He could always deal it out, but refused to take it. Ray Butler had stopped beating on his son during his Junior year in highschool though, realizing that the boy was now bigger than him. Out of a cowardly fear for his own safety, he stuck to the emotional abuse instead, which only got worse once he didn’t have a true outlet for his frustrations. Austin bristled as he watched the old man glare up at him, taking a long swig from his beer before answering.

“I took it to Keith’s. If ya needed it so bad, why the hell didn’t you take it with ya in the first place? It’s in my house, so I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” It was surprising how coherent the man was, especially since he must have been drinking all day long.

Austin’s father hadn’t had a job in the last seven years, but still managed to scrape by somehow. He was a petty thief whose criminal record stretched all the way back into his boyhood. He had raised the blonde to be the exact same way, but the only thing Austin had truly adopted from his “teachings” was a shared hatred for cops and a scrappy sort of resourcefulness. The other kids that he was forced to interact with at school were the ones that taught him how to fight. They enjoyed taking turns trying to beat the shit out of the town’s poor kid, but once he finally hit his growth spurt in the summer after sixth grade the roles were largely reversed. Nobody messed with him by the time that he had entered high school. He was feared by his peers and just as hated.

The negative image that he had created served him well though. Not only had he made a name for himself, he had also gained the ability to protect his best friend, which was the only thing he really cared about. Getting the dog shit knocked out of him was one thing, but seeing boys and girls teasing her was a different story. He remembered storming into the girl’s bathroom during his junior year very vividly, yanking up one of popular blonde’s by the back of her shirt.

“I’m a Butler, so don’t think that I’m above hittin’ a girl.”

He’d constantly ask you if the bullying persisted even after that, but you always went out of your way to tell him that they had stopped their teasing. Austin was made fun of because he lived in a trailer that should have been condemned long since they originally moved in and barely had enough money to get school supplies every year, but you were picked on because you were perfect. It didn’t make any sense to him, but girls are strange creatures. You made good grades, was the nicest person he had ever met without even trying, and your natural good looks made matters even worse for you. Getting the mean girls to steer clear of you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping the male pervert’s away was an entirely different story.

It didn’t help that after a long day of putting up with the constant glares, rumors, and telling boys to back off, he’d be forced to come home to incessant tongue lashings. He barely had time to study after taking care of the forty year old drunkard, hence his rotten grades in school. You could only do his homework for him so many times, but hey- you tried. He graduated because of you, at the very least.

He had landed a job as a mechanic straight out of high school, having been skilled for his age. Who knew that driving a shitty lemon of a car that he constantly had to fix up would lead to a career? He had gotten lucky, which was a rarity in his life.

Getting his own place was one hell of an achievement, but his past always found a way to come back and haunt him.

Austin stormed through the connected kitchen and down the hall, sucking in a deep breath before he entered the room. All of the boxes that he had stacked in the corner had been ransacked and picked clean. It was Austin’s fault for thinking that a simple locked door would keep his father out. The blonde could scream over his stolen Iron Maiden and Dio tapes later, for now he needed to focus on the important thing: his tools.

“You sold them to your crackhead dealer? For what? A bag, right? That was over a hundred dollars worth’a tools!” He screamed from the backroom, kicking an old wooden chair that had been junking up his old room for ages. The thing went flying, hitting the opposite wall with a resounding cracking noise.

Austin was covered in car oil, smelled like gasoline and sweat after a long day of work, and all he had wanted was to slip in the trailer undetected and grab his things. He had hoped that his father would have been passed out in his room by now so that he could have been in and out without being forced to converse. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. The blonde reached for the metal baseball bat that he still had stuffed under his childhood bed, knocking it against his boot a few times before storming out of the room, pushing past his father and heading straight for the front door.

“Austin, wait,” The male knew what was coming. The only time his father ever referred to him by his name was when he wanted something. “Can you give me twenty dollars? I need’a pay the power.”

The baseball bat felt heavy in his hand. He balanced the weight for a second, his jaw clicking as he imagined just how good it would feel to bring it down on top of the other man’s head. If Ray ended up dead, he was sure that he could blame it on a handful of people who he had stolen from or cheated. Austin didn’t need that on his conscience though. So instead of barking back a reply or even pulling out his wallet, he yanked his hand away with a grunt, storming out the door.

“Jus’ use the money that you got from sellin’ all’a my shit.” He called out before slamming the door behind him, the small and dingy diamond shaped window vibrating with the force of his anger.

“Is your mama home? If not then I’m gonna use your shower.” Austin gently pushed his way into the house, kicking off his dirty work boots before bounding up the familiar carpeted stairs.

You blinked in the entryway, slowly closing the front door before turning around to watch him go, the chain from his wallet jingling with his movement. With a small sigh you locked it behind you, following up after him.

“Well hello to you too.” You teased, watching him open up the linen closet so that he could grab a towel. He was caked with grease, his sun kissed cheeks speckled with black and gray. His black work shirt fit snugly on his form, having shrunk in the wash. At his hip, swinging around with every step that he took, was his black handkerchief. It was also wrecked with engine grease, having been used to clean his hands one too many times that day. He looked devilishly handsome, but he always did. Nothing new.

“Sorry. Really bad day. Just got back from Keith’s place- he had some of the shit that I left at my dad’s.” He left the bathroom door open as he slipped off his socks, then hurriedly took his shirt off and threw that into the dirty clothes hamper. His small apartment didn’t have a washer and dryer hookup, so he had been doing his laundry at your place for the last two months.

You didn’t mind, and your mother and father hadn’t noticed either. You sucked at your teeth, turning around to give him privacy. You heard the shower turn on, then the familiar clanking of his chain wallet hitting the side of the sink. Once you heard the shower curtain open and close you turned around, seeing the room empty, his dirty clothes piled neatly in the hamper. You closed the bathroom door behind you as you stepped inside, jumping up on the counter so that you could swing your legs back and forth as you spoke. He seemed frustrated, and you could tell that he needed to talk about it.

Growing up in a tragically tiny town meant that everybody was always in each other’s business. From preschool to your senior year in high school, every moment was spent with the same exact children. You could count the newer families to move into the small community over the last five years on one hand. Life was slow moving in the old south, and things were horrifically monotonous. You and the blonde had been stuck together like glue ever since primary school, and you didn’t see it changing in the future.

To say that you knew Austin like the back of your hand was an understatement. Every flaw, quirk and triumph had either been discovered by you, with you at his side, or involved you in some way. In a town filled with mostly elderly folks, kids often found a group of likeminded people and stuck with them for the entirety of their lives. It was horribly predictable of the two of you, yet here you two were, connected at the hip. The bond between you and Austin went above just being best friends. It was something tied to your soul. It wasn’t just hard to imagine a life without him in it, rather it was impossible.

He didn’t have to tell you that he was angry for you to know that he was beyond aggravated. The restlessness was plain to see. Whether he would be upfront and tell you about the reason or not, you could tell that he needed someone to just sit and listen. Austin wasn’t the kind of person to talk in depth about the things that really upset him. He was more of the “suffer in silence until I inevitably blow up” type. You, on the other hand, weren’t afraid to whine and cry to him about even the slightest of inconveniences. The two of you were polar opposites, and yet it just worked.

“Keith let you in the house?” You asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you watched the steam beginning to curl up and over the curtain.

Austin let out a humorless laugh, and you could imagine him shaking his head back and forth. You smiled despite the situation, bringing your hand up to your mouth so that you could bite down on your thumb nail. You instantly regretted it, pulling away to see that you had already chipped your freshly painted fingers.

“A’course he didn’t. I broke into the fucker’s place. Got my tool box back, but the damn thing had been ransacked already. The bones picked clean. I’m out over fifty dollars in tools- checked it once I got back into the car.”

“Jesus- did he see you? That guy is absolutely insane.” Thankfully, you’d only met the man in passing a handful of times. He was the crazy townee that everybody knew and feared. Keith was the kind of person that you point out to your developing teens to scare them away from drugs and alcohol. “If you don’t want to end up like Ole’ Keith, you better not touch that stuff.” He had a bunch of handmade signs outside of his house with bible scriptures on them, meanwhile the man was dealing meth and coke to make a living. As was the deep south, filled to the brim with religious and moral hypocrisies.

Either you were a devout Christian or just another local crackhead. Thankfully, you and Austin didn’t fall into either of those categories. You seemed to have made one of your own over the years.

“He wasn’t home. His truck was gone. The dude left his bedroom window unlocked, so I just ripped the screen off.”

You used to worry for Austin on a daily basis. The burns and bruises he’d come to school with broke your heart, but no matter how many times you begged your parents to let the blonde come and live with you, they always let you down. You were happy that he finally had somewhere safe to lay his head at night, though he still hadn’t broken the habit of spending most of his down time with you (and you prayed he wouldn’t ever grow out of that habit). As soon as he got off work he was making his way up to your bedroom, often dead tired down to his bones or pissed off. Your parents were gone most of the time anyway though. Your father was a hotshot business man who was away for work most of the time, and your mother insisted on following along with him after the “incident” that happened when you were twelve.

Men who spend most days without their wives and children breathing down their neck usually take advantage of the opportunity. Your father was no different. He was no saint. Then again, neither was your mother. She took most of her frustration out on you after that, and though you knew that her outbursts weren’t a direct cause of anything that you had personally done, that didn’t make it any better.

Austin was just as much your therapist as you were his. Maybe that was the cause for your codependency. . . either way, neither of you regretted it. It only strengthened the bond, really.

After Austin was showered and dressed in an outfit that he had left at your house some weeks ago, the two of you found yourselves sprawled out on your bed. You were busy finishing up some homework for one of your classes, and he was reading one of your magazines. He had his head hanging off the side of the mattress, ankles crossed up on one of your pillows. His wet hair was dripping onto your floor. The constant droplets hitting your outdated shag carpet lulled the two of you into a comfortable silence. The two of you didn’t need to talk

“Where’s a newer one? This one’s a year old.” He suddenly dropped what he was reading onto the floor next to his head, sitting up so that he could face you again.

You scrunched up your nose, dropping your psychology textbook beside you.

“That is the newer one.” You told him, to which he scooped it up and off of the floor, turning it over and pointing at the date.

He was right. It was old.

It was the June twenty-first issue, the date clear to see on the front: nineteen eighty-four. Bob Dylan was posed on the front in all of his tambourine-man glory.

“Shit. Sorry, Aus. I thought I handed you the Beatles Anniversary edition.” You started to stand up, but he waved you off.

“I should probably get going anyway. I have to try to cook myself something. If I don’t eat now then I’ll jus’ go to bed hungry.”

You had hoped that the two of you could order pizza tonight, but you kept your mouth shut. Lately you found yourself clinging to him a little bit harder than usual. Maybe it was the stress of your sophomore year in college, but you couldn’t be certain. You tried to school the disappointment off of your face as you nodded, standing up to walk him back to the front door.

“Are we still driving down to see Dave’s show? His band sucks, but he’ll be disappointed if we miss it.” He asked you at the front door, shoving his sock clad feet into his work boots and tying them up haphazardly.

You slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand, eyes wide. You’d completely forgotten about your friend’s show tomorrow. You’d planned to stay after class and study in the library, but you didn’t mind cramming for next week's test. Austin laughed, the sound causing you to smile to yourself. His laugh was deep, rich and completely contagious. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” He leaned down so that he was at your height, his smile practically blinding.

You sucked in a breath, but nodded your head anyway. It was hard not to notice his beauty in moments like this. He’d always been handsome, but lately you’d been looking a little too closely at that. A sick twinge of guilt soured your stomach, a feeling of what could only be categorized as “betrayal” causing your face to flush. He was your best friend, and if he knew that you were looking at him like that he would probably be disgusted with you. Hell, you were horrified by your own thoughts recently. You tried to blame the odd feelings on your long-standing lack of romance, but you were starting to believe that was just an excuse.

“I completely forgot.” And you felt bad about it. You’d been so busy with your school work, the recent fight that you had with your mother and. . . well. . . Austin. You cleared your throat softly, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the tiled floor to try and distract yourself.

Austin seemed to notice the change in attitude and put his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in the way that he knew you despised. He chuckled when you slapped his hand away, instead moving his hand to the base of your neck so that he could pull your much smaller form against his in a tight hug. He’d always been lean and tall, but his physically demanding job had caused his muscles to fill out. He felt warm and strong, smelling of your shampoo.

“I’ll drive us tomorrow, alright? Maybe you can get some studying done in the car.” And with that he removed his arms from around you.

You felt the loss of his warmth like a slap in the face. You let him go though, watching as he bounded down the steps towards his van, his keys jingling in his hand with the movement. He was in higher spirits after spending a few hours in your presence. He felt lighter, like some of the crushing weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. You leaned against the doorframe, peeking your head out just to watch him.

“I love you! Drive home safe, alright?” You called out.

Austin couldn’t fight off the blush that raised to his ears, but he turned around and quickly returned the sentiment. You had told him that you loved him every day, but his heart still pounded like it had the very first time. Only these days he wished that you really meant it.

That you loved him the same way that he loved you.

#foreverdolly #austin butler fanfic #austin butler #austin butler fluff #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler angst #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #elvis 2022 #elvis baz luhrmann #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #self insert

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texas-writes · 4 months

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Calander Girl

Johnny Cage x Model! Reader

I did NOT mean to lake this shit so long. I literally got possessed by a cock demon

Cw: piv sex, adult modeling, oral (m and f recieving) a lot of cum, cum eating, overstimulation

When Johnny Cage had first met you it was a total accident. He’d been way too caught up in a phone call with his agent, bitching about not wanting to work on another rom-com when he walked his happy ass onto the wrong soundstage.

It had taken him a solid minute to register that he was in the wrong place, staring at you laying bare on your stomach, propped up on your elbows with nothing but a cheap American Flag covering your ass. He watched intently as you kicked your foot up in the air with your toes pointed and popped your gum, vintage curls bouncing as you finally looked his way.

Your big doe eyes catch his as he admires you and you bring your thumb up to your red lips to stifle a giggle. Johnny starts as the camera clicks and the flash box goes off, apologizing profusely and ducking off the set. He wouldn’t know it for a while, but he was your lucky break.

The smile you had given him had secured your place as Miss June, that summer’s All American Girl, giving a strong-armed salute in a sailor style swimsuit with a Dixie cap balanced precariously over your victory rolls on the cover of that month’s issue. Your tight body and inviting face was going to “give the American Dream a breath of fresh air” as your photographer had claimed.

Your photos inside the magazine were significantly less wholesome, but still endearing nonetheless, licking whipped cream off of a beater in a white halter and high waisted sailor shorts, you leaning on that god-awful plaster anchor in nothing but stockings, heels and a white bullet bra with your legs strategically positioned to leave something to the imagination, the innocent smile you had given Johnny, and then in the middle, there you were, fully nude in those same heels and stockings, waving a handkerchief above your head with one foot kicked up behind you. “Hello, Sailor,” read the caption above you in a cheesy Americana font.

Nobody was looking at that stupid shit anyways.

When Johnny had walked into the gas station on his birthday, his first birthday alone in who knows how long, he’d decided to get himself a present. Walking to the back and picking up a twelve pack of Modelo and a single Red Bull, he’d found himself at the magazine rack beside the bathroom, leafing through the latest issues of Hustler and Penthouse before landing on his go-to. Playboy. Without looking he plucked it off the rack and made his way to the register, paid for his things, and left eager to get home and enjoy himself.

After he got home and stripped down to his boxers, he crawled into his plush California King and cracked open a beer, tossing his girly mag to the side to enjoy a couple of drinks before getting to business.

Three beers later he’s feeling loose and a little less bad about the whole ‘single’ thing he had going on, he pulls his half erect dick from his boxers, stroking it lazily, and returns his attention to the magazine.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters when he looks down and sees you of all people. He couldn’t jerk off to you, he’d met you for God’s sake. Well, kind of, but it was the principle, really. He tucks himself back into his underwear and sighs, tossing his head back in defeat.

“Well,” he reasons with himself. “It wouldn’t hurt if I just looked.” That’s what you had been there for, to be looked at, no different than him really. Besides, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before on any woman, or you for that matter, and you just looked so damn cute on the cover with your bright eyes and big smile. How could he resist?

He flips through the pages, chuckling to himself at how corny the theme they had given you was. He was however taken aback when he saw what he’d seen just a month prior in front of him once again. That smile, his smile, if he dared, was just as endearing as it had been the first time, making his heart skip a beat. He sighs dreamily and turns the page, unfolding the pages and taking in all of you.

“Hello Sailor, indeed,” he breathes, not quite enjoying the way his cock twitches, making him hastily fold you back up and toss you on the nightstand, grabbing the remote instead. There had to be something good on pay per view.

“Do I have to do this,” you protest, pulling up your jeans and making sure your g-string is tastefully exposed before pulling the French-cropped trans am shirt over your head.

“No, but it’ll be fun, and they’ll be super famous people there too,” Lainey promises, pulling the hem of her dress down to an acceptable just-below-the-asscheek length.

“Yeah. They’ll probably be too famous to recognize me.”

“If you hate the attention so much, why'd you do this? Genuine question, I promise I’m not being mean.”

“I wanted to be an actress, and thought this would get my foot in the door. I just don’t like being recognized only from the neck down.”

“Hey you covered your tattoo on film, so maybe you’ll be alright.”

You look down at the pink nautical star on the inside of your wrist, right on your pulse point and nod. “Yeah. Cause that’s what they’ll be looking at.”

“Ugh, well, I tried. We gotta go before we’re late.”

You weren’t exactly sure what this party was for, or if it was just a happening, but Lainey was the one that found it and she had been in the game longer than you had, so you took her professional opinion. So there you were, leaning against the bar, idly stirring your drink, enjoying the clinking sound the ice makes when you look up and see him.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, Lainey, it’s that guy,” you hiss, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “The one I told you about.” She looks over her other shoulder, her bottle-blonde hair whacking you in the face in the process. It smelled like strawberries.

“Are you fucking stupid,” she hisses back, giving you the most dumbfounded look you’ve ever seen. “That’s Johnny fuckin’ Cage!”

You peer around her. “Huh? I guess it is. Didn’t notice then. Was too nervous,” you explain, unwrapping a stick of gum and inspecting it.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go talk to him!”

Before you can protest she’s untangled herself from your grasp and shoved you towards him.

You take a deep breath, shove the stick of gum into your mouth and push yourself the rest of the way, coming up beside him.

“Excuse me,” you call, your voice barely audible over the clamor of the party, but he still turns around, his face lighting up when he notices who you are.

“Hey! You’re that girl, sorry about that, by the way. I’m sure that was embarrassing. My fault really. I was on the phone with my agent. He never listens.”

“Well, Mr. Cage-“

“Johnny, please,” he insists, running his hand through his hair.

“Johnny. If you hadn’t walked onto my set I would’ve never smiled like that and gotten myself here.”

“Oh?”

“You know I didn’t realize it was you until just a few minutes ago. I just saw a handsome guy and got all embarrassed.”

He chuckles. “Same here. The embarrassed part, not the hot guy part. I don’t-” He lets out a defeated sigh and then rolls his shoulders back. “You’re the beautiful one though. You totally deserved to be Miss June. Say, if I bring you a copy would you sign it for me?”

“You want my autograph?”

“Sure, why not. You looked real cute on the cover. I can frame it, say I met you before you hit the big time.”

You laugh and look up at him. “You know, I thought famous people were supposed to be dicks.”

“Me? No way. I can’t vouch for most of these people though. Do you want to act, or do you just do stills,” He asks, taking a step back, seeming to size you up.

“I’m here to act. The stills are just a… temporary detour,” you admit, worrying the hem of your shirt between your fingers nervously.

“You know, my agent? The one I was on the phone with when I had my location mishap? Keeps calling me about this rom-com they want me for and I told him ‘No way, José’ unless they stop trying to pick women that look like my ex-wife to play the girl, you know everyone loves a blonde lead.”

He looks at you and sighs again. He sure sighed a lot for a grown man. Maybe it was nerves? Nah, couldn’t be. He was Johnny fucking Cage, after all.

“Listen if I can convince them to pick you up instead, you’ll be doing me a huge solid if you take it. You in?”

“What’s the catch,” you question, popping your gum at him.

“The catch?”

“Yeah. What’ll you want in return?”

“There is no catch. Studio gets their movie, you get to act and I don’t have to be constantly reminded that my wife left me. Everyone goes home happy. Well, almost everyone. Look, I don’t wa-expect you to fuck me if that’s what you mean.”

“Want?”

His cheeks flush and he gives you a confused look that’s a little too polished to be real.

“You almost said want but then stopped yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure Johnny. Well, either you can keep lying to both of us, or you can get me out of here and get what you want.”

“You fucking serious?”

“Why not? Been trying to leave since I got here.”

He just chuckles and snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you close to him, leaning down next to your ear. “Your place or mine?”

“Your bed’s probably bigger,” you tease, sliding your hand into his back pocket and giving his muscular ass a squeeze as he leads you towards the door.

You glance over at the bar to find Lainey staring at you with a slack-jawed look of disbelief. You give her a shiny white smile and an exaggerated finger wave as you pass.

When you get to Johnny’s car he unlocks it from across the parking garage with the fob and jogs ahead to open your door for you, flashing you a grin as he closes it back behind you. The interior is all brown leather, making you scared to touch anything, so you just fold your hands politely into your lap.

The man of the hour ducks into the car a moment later, hitting the push-button ignition and gives it a rev. “What do you think? Nice huh? It’s an Aston Martin.

“I like the leather. Scared to touch it though.”

“Don’t be. Get comfortable Sweetheart,” he grins, looking over his shoulder as he backs out of the parking spot.

You cautiously unfold your hands and stretch your legs out, leaning back in the seat a bit.

Johnny’s hand slowly crosses the center console of the car and comes to rest on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in wide circles along the rough denim of your jeans. You ease your trembling hand towards his, lacing your pinkie with his.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re shaking.”

“Never been with someone famous. Little nerve-wracking is all,” you reply, giving his pinkie a squeeze.

“I can drop you home if you’d prefer, Sweetheart,” he offers, looking over at you and giving you a softer, more genuine smile.

“I’m okay, really.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

When you pull into his driveway you force yourself to not look surprised. You’d known his place would be big, but honestly, that was an understatement. You were so far out of your element that there wasn’t any going back. Sure, you’d been in a mansion before, hell you lived in one, granted it was almost a sorority situation in nature, but still.

Johnny parks in the underground garage and comes around to let you out, snaking his arm around your waist as soon as you’re standing. You give him a soft smile and let your hand find its way into his back pocket again, earning a single laugh from him.

He leads you through the garage and up a small flight of stairs into the living room, gesturing for you to sit on the couch.

“Sooooo, can I get you a drink or something?”

“Such a gracious host. We can drink if you want.”

“Awesome. You like ‘em fruity or straight.”

“Whichever you want.”

“I’m gonna go make daiquiris then. Make yourself at home baby,” he calls, slipping away towards the kitchen. He sounded excited at the prospect of having a fruity little drink. It was endearing.

You kick your shoes off and take them over to the door, lining them up carefully just barely not touching the wall before returning to the couch and folding your feet up underneath you. God, you’re really here sitting on some A-listers couch while he fixes drinks for the two of you. Did this count as a date? No, this was just a hook-up. But why was he doing more than he had to? Maybe? Nah. Well-

Your thoughts were ground to a halt by the sound of a blender full of ice running at full speed. Whatever. You were getting a mixed drink and some (hopefully) good dick, so nothing else really mattered.

Johnny comes back a couple minutes later with two glasses full of vibrant red slushie with bendy straws. He hands you one and flops down beside you, patting his thigh. You debate with yourself for a moment before throwing your legs over his lap, smiling around your straw when he rests his free hand on your knee.

“How long have you been in L.A.,” he questions, taking a moment to bend his straw into a little loop before returning his hand to your leg, higher this time.

“About six months or so. Got the gig with Playboy and moved out here. Thanks for the drink by the way.”

“No problem. Are you staying at the Mansion or do you have your own place?”

“I’m at the Mansion. It’s kind of lame honestly. I have to share a room with another of the bunnies, but apparently things are different now that Coop’s in charge. I think I’ve seen him like, twice ever.” You take a long slurp of your drink and have to fend off a fast-approaching brain freeze.

“Yeah. I heard Hef used to be a real menace. Glad you don’t have to put up with him.”

“It’s nice. Free place to live out here is awesome. We just have to take turns making breakfast for everyone and look good at parties.”

“Not hard for you to do,” he replies, rubbing his thumb along your leg again.

You chuckle at his complement, but can’t manage to fight off the pink that tinges your cheeks.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah baby?”

“You don’t think I’m easy do you?”

“No way. If you were easy we’d be halfway done by now, besides anyone’d jump at the opportunity to come home with me.”

“Conceited much,” you joke, tugging his shirt sleeve with your toes.

“Me? No way,” he teases, giving you a wink

“Sure…”

“How’s your drink?”

“‘S good.”

“Glad to hear it. C’mere,” he urges, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap and you let him. “You seem like a sweet girl and I wanna treat you right, see where this goes, ya know.”

“Seriously,” you ask, returning your attention to your drink trying to stave off the fresh anxiety bubbling up in your tummy.

“Sure, or it can just be a one time thing if you want. I just don’t want you feeling tossed aside.”

“We’ll see what happens,” you murmur, leaning away, relying entirely on his arm around your waist to put your empty cup on the coffee table before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. His shoulders relax and he kisses you back, not bothering to pull away as he leans to put his cup with yours so his hands can focus on holding onto you.

The two of you kiss until you’re lightheaded and have no choice but to pull away panting. “Fuck, Johnny, you’re so fuckin’ hot.”

“Mh, that’s you baby. You want to take the party upstairs?”

“Let’s go,” you whisper, grabbing his face and smashing your lips to his again. He smiles against you and gathers you up in his toned arms, carrying you up the stairs.

His room was just as extravagant as the rest of his house, as you had expected. He sets you down and steps back, kicking off his own shoes and disappearing into what you assume to be the closet. You walk over and sit on the edge of his king-size bed, running your hands along the plush black comforter and taking in the painting above the headboard. It was a Warhol.

Johnny comes back out of the closet in just his slacks and sits beside you. “Nice painting, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond almost blankly, before returning your attention to him, noticing his tattoo. He really was conceited, but looking at the rest of him, he had good reason to be.” I’d forgotten about this one. Figure most people have though, everything except for his pop art.”

“What’s your favorite painting?” What an unusually thoughtful question to ask given the situation. It deserved a thoughtful answer.

“Christina’s World. Reminds me of myself in a way, getting to where I want to be by sheer force of will, despite it all.”

“Well, you got there.”

“I still want more.”

“And you’ll have it. One day you’ll look back and it’ll be hard to remember when you didn’t.”

“Can’t imagine forgetting.”

“Didn’t say you’d forget how you got there. You forget how miserable it was because it's paid off. Nothing’s better than that.”

“Sappy.”

“I try.”

“Do you want me to suck your dick?”

His back stiffens and he turns to face you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you want me to suck your dick.”

“Oh, you mean like- actually. I thought you were being facetious. Be my guest- if you want.”

You laugh and slide off the bed, kneeling between his toned legs, bringing your hands to rest on his belt buckle.

“You sound nervous,” you tease, undoing his belt and unzipping his fly.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m probably no good anymore.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine sweetheart.”

Your fingers make quick work of the button on his slacks, finally reaching into his boxers and pulling his cock out. Oh. He was big. It was your turn to be nervous again, gulping and taking a deep breath before pressing a kiss to his flushed tip. You decide to take it slow, peppering him with kisses and kitten licks before finally taking him into your mouth, taking your time to get used to each inch before forcing yourself lower. His fingers work their way into your hair, not forcing your head down, but following along as you take him in. The pants falling from his lips slowly morph into soft whimpers, whining whenever you run your tongue along the vein running down his length.

You make it about three quarters down before you gag and pull away abruptly, making him whine in protest. Hot tears slide down your cheeks and you swallow thickly, holding the back of your wrist to your mouth, fighting the urge to puke all over his spotless white carpet.

“You okay sweetheart,” he murmurs, untangling his hand from your hair and cupping your cheek with it, urging you to look up at him. Your eyes meet his and you find an unexpected softness there.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Overestimated myself, I think,” you reply, leaning forwards to take him again, but his hand returns to your hair and tugs you away,

“You don’t have to try again if you don’t want. You did good.”

“Wanna make you cum,” you whine, leaning forward again, not caring about the sore tug at your scalp. His hand just follows your head again, letting you do as you please. You’re more mindful of yourself this time, taking him deeper into your throat at your own pace, not the one you thought he wanted, digging your fingers into his hips to balance yourself.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that, feels s’good,” he groans, pulling his hand from your hair and fisting the comforter to stop himself from just shoving you the rest of the way down. Despite his lack of trying his hips raise up to meet you and he groans deeply when you look up and lock eyes with him. “You’re doin’ so good, so proud of you.”

His praise goes straight to your pussy and you finish taking him in, pressing your nose into the light brown hair trailing down his tummy, scrunching your face up whenever it tickles. It really had been a long time since you’d sucked dick, especially one this big, and you’d forgotten how much you enjoyed it, rutting your hips against nothing looking for any kind of friction, but coming up empty.

“I’m so fuckin’ close, where do you want me to-”

You pull back, hollowing your cheeks and giving his head some attention before taking all of him back in, moaning as his fingertips dig into your scalp as you let him fuck your face as he cums down your throat with a pathetic moan. After a couple more shallow thrusts he holds your cheeks as you pull away from him and swallow thickly.

“Fuck baby, that was amazing. Thought you said it’d been a while.”

You take a ragged breath and look up at him. “It has.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pro. Shit, look at you, so hot, all ruined like that. Come here,” he coaxes, sliding his arms under yours and pulling you up towards him. You let him sit you in his lap and baby you, wiping at your tears and kissing you on the forehead before he stands up and pulls the sheets back, laying you in his bed. You look over and notice the teddy bear sitting against one of the pillows.

“Cute,” you comment, grinning at him when he leans over and knocks it into the floor.

“You didn’t see that.”

“Sure.” He shuts you up with a kiss, slipping his hand under your shirt and tracing his way up your ribs to squeeze your breast.

“Your turn,” he smirks, making quick work of pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it into the floor. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he growls, leaning down to nip at your collarbone.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you tease, pushing your chest into his greedy hand

“Much better in person though. I’m a hands-on learner.”

You just sigh and let him peel you out of your clothes. He stops when he tosses your jeans off, taking a moment to stare at your g-string.

“What’s this even supposed to cover,” he questions, pulling it off as well, spinning it around on his finger.

“It’s just for decoration.”

“Clearly.”

You laugh and snatch it off his finger, tossing it back at him

“For me?”

“If you want it. Don’t know if you can pull it off though.”

“Baby I can pull off anything.”

He quickly loses interest in the tiny garment and returns his attention to you, bringing a hand between your thighs and leaning down to kiss you, his chest pressing against yours deliciously.

“Johnny,” you whine, rutting your hips against his hand, which has been tracing along everywhere except where you need it. “Don’t tease.”

“Let me have my fun.”

He slides one finger through your folds, ghosting up and down along your clit, taking you in as you squirm underneath him before plunging it into you. You sigh and grind your hips down against his palm, keening when his thumb brushes your clit. His free hand takes its place kneading at your breast, tracing his fingers over your clothed nipple.

“You should take this off too baby,” he murmurs, popping the strap of your powder blue bra. You just arch your back so he can reach behind you to unclasp it, sighing in relief as he pulls it off your body and tosses it aside. “That’s better. You’re so hot baby,”

He eases his finger out of you and returns with another, expertly curling his finger into your sweet spot. When his thumb leaves your clit you groan in protest, accepting his decision when he replaces it with his mouth. His tongue was warm and wet as presses it to you. He groans and quickens his fingers, curling his fingers harshly into your warm sex, his lips locking around your clit making your head spin.

Johnny makes you cum with expert precision, not letting up despite you tugging harshly at his sandy blond hair. He just looks up at you with those big brown eyes of his, smirking against you while he eats you out like a starved man. His fingers have slowed to a steady rhythm and he’s mostly focusing on you with his mouth now. You can feel your body starting to tense again, and you throw your head back into the pillow and let him keep abusing your cunt.

Your second orgasm crashes over you harder than the first, making you dig your heels into the mattress, your trembling thighs squeezing his head, but still, he persists.

“Johnny,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulders, but there’s really no deterring him. You felt like you were on fire, your head swimming and every move he made sending shocks through your muscles. Finally he pulls away, moving his thumb back to your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it as he looks up at you. His chin’s coated in your juices and he really doesn’t seem to care. He just watches as you squirm under his touch, flashing you a well-practiced smile when your eyes meet.

The third orgasm makes your vision go white and you reach down, weakly grabbing at his wrist, silently begging for mercy. “‘S too much,” you whine, trying to free yourself from his touch but he just grabs your hip, pulling you back to him, making you fuck his fingers.

“Come on baby, you can give me one more.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes you can. You’re doing so good.”

“J-Johnny…”

“What if I do this,” he taunts, letting go of your hip and pressing the heel of his hand into the soft flesh just above your mons. You cry out and gush around his fingers, going completely limp as he slows his pace to a stop, easing his fingers out of you and moving to lay beside you.

You just lay there, entirely fucked out, your breathing ragged and your cunt squeezing around nothing. Fat tears roll down your cheeks, clumping your lashes and taking what's left of your mascara with them. Johnny runs his hands along your body, making you shiver, but successfully drawing you back to this plane of existence.

He just lets you lay there, feeling your warm skin, smiling at how helpless he’s made you. His cock strains painfully against his slacks so he decides to do away with them, discarding them and his boxers with the rest of your clothes. Finally you’re cohesive enough to have control over your own body and you turn to look at him. He just looks so fucking good, his normally kempt hair a spiky mess from your desprate fingers. His lips are swollen and a deep shade of pink, parted slightly as he breathes. He flashes you another smile and tosses his leg over yours, shamelessly grinding his dick against your thigh.

“Shit,” you sigh. “That was just foreplay.”

“Told you I’d make it worth your time.”

“You weren’t lying. Never cum like that in my life.”

He gives you a cocky smile, giving your cunt a light slap, making you yelp.

“You think you’re ready for the real deal,” He questions, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply, forcing his tongue into your mouth and licking at the backs of your teeth. He pulls away, his tongue darting out to break the string of spit connecting you as he awaits your answer.

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for another kiss, rolling your hips against his.

He just reaches between you and lines himself up, pressing in slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust. The stretch is amazing and you lock your ankles around his lower back, urging him to bottom out. When he finally does, he just stops, pressing himself impossibly deeper and holding you there.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet. Gonna make me embarrass myself.” he purrs. “Don’t care though. Too fuckin’ good.”

Johnny takes a moment to take in how you look under him and realizes he could get used to the view. Living room sunset be damned, this was his new favorite thing to watch. He looks down to where your bodies are joined, taking note of the bulge in your tummy and the way it pulses when his cock twitches. You were going to be the death of him.

Finally he pulls back, almost all the way out before slamming back into you, setting a punishing pace, digging his fingertips into your hips, eyes fixed on your stomach as he fucked you. Your view wasn’t too bad either, watching his abs ripple as he pounded into you, the way his hair fell down into his face covering his focused expression. Every thrust brushed against your cervix, unbridled moans falling from your lips.

Johnny’s pants slowly morph into grunts that quickly become needy sounds as his pace falters, bringing his hand to your clit once again, urging you to cum before he does. That was your final straw, every muscle in your body contracting as your fifth orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Fuck,” he growls as he pulls out of you harshly, fisting his cock a couple of times before spilling across your tummy. He looks up at you with an animalistic expression, chest heaving as his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips. He looks around for a second before sitting back on his heels, his eyebrows furrowing. “Fuck it why not,” he mutters, assumedly to himself as his grip releases and he moves to rest on the bed between your legs, tossing your legs over his shoulders.

Your eyes flash with an instinctive fear, and you grab a fistful of his hair to keep him from going back for sloppy seconds. Instead of burying his face between your thighs again his tongue lathes against your torso. You watch him in awe as he laps his own mess off your burning skin, and it's almost enough to make you beg him for a second round just so you can see it again.

When he’s done he crawls up beside you and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you to him and peppering sloppy kisses along your shoulder.

“That was hot.”

“Never done that before. Don’t know why I did. Don’t know how chicks do that all the time. It was uh, not great.”

“It wasn’t bad, probably just ‘cause it was your own. I could tell you eat well.”

He laughs and brings a hand up to brush your sweaty hair out of your face.

“That’s insane,” he replies, grabbing at you as you try to slide out of his arms.

“Let me up, I gotta pee.”

“Oh I’m sure you do.”

You whack him in the chest with a half-hearted backhand and he finally lets go.

“You coming back?”

“Yeah, where’s the bathroom.”

“Straight across from here.” he gestures to the door at the end of the short hallway in his room.

When you come back out he’s already asleep, so you just climb into the bed beside him, smiling to yourself when he throws his arm over you.

You wake up the next morning still in his arms facing him and you stretch, trying to untangle yourself from him. He groans and pulls you closer, his eyes fluttering open.

“Morning sweetheart,” he murmurs. His morning voice is deep and gravely instead of its usual smooth tone. You smile and kiss the end of his nose. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great. What about you?”

“Like a baby. What time is it?”

“I’d know if you had a clock in here.”

“Hey, my bed’s like Vegas baby. Don’t need a clock.”

“Uh, huh. Let me check my phone.”

He lets go of you and you roll over, grabbing your phone out of the floor.

“It’s seven, and I have like, a million texts.” You open your phone and scroll through your notifications. Most of them were from Lainey, becoming increasingly more concerned before the most recent that just read ‘CALL ME’. You just send her a simple ‘I’m still alive’ text before turning your phone back off and dropping it into the pile of clothes on the floor, returning to Johnny’s embrace.

“I have three hours before I gotta be somewhere. You down for round two and a shower,” He questions, cocking his eyebrow at you.

“Don’t see why not.”

“Glad we’re still on the same page.”

He rolls on top of you and lines himself up with your still-sloppy cunt, easing himself in, same as the night before. Instead of drilling you he sets a slow pace, kissing you passionately as you pull him impossibly closer. It’s slow and restrained, and if you didn’t know any better you'd say he was making love to you. He brings his hand down to toy with your clit, easing you into cumming on his dick this time instead of demanding it. After you finish he pulls out and finishes himself off into the shirt he was wearing yesterday, wordlessly getting up and tossing it into the closet. He comes back to the side of the bed and reaches his hand out.

“Let's go get cleaned up.”

You sit on the cold porcelain of the toilet lid, watching him intently as he starts the shower, taking your hand and leading you in with him.

“Hey, I only have like, dude smells. Hope that’s okay.”

“At least it's not Axe,” you laugh, wetting your hair and turning around to let him shampoo it, which he gladly does. The two of you spend about an hour in the shower enjoying the hot water, washing each other, and kissing. Finally you manage to separate long enough to get out and dry off. Johnny goes and gets dressed in the closet and you just put on your clothes from the night before. He comes back out and you admire how well-tailored his shirt is.

“Come on, I’ll make us breakfast before I gotta go. I’ll call you a ride home, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

He makes omelets for the two of you and you take seats next to each other at the dining room table to eat. After you’re done he takes the dishes into the kitchen and calls your ride for you.

“Where’s your phone?”

“ In my pocket, why?”

“Wanna give you my number so you can call me up whenever.”

You open your phone up to the new contact screen and he enters his number, saving it under ‘Johnny 😎’ and handing it back to you.

His phone dings and he checks it, looking up at you. “Your ride’s here. Text me when you get home safe, okay,” he insists, leading you to the door and giving you one more quick kiss before sending you to the car waiting in the driveway, waving as you duck in.

When you get home you let yourself in and lock the door behind you, trying your damnedest to not look like you were doing the walk of shame. Lainey’s standing at the top of the stairs in her fluffy pink robe staring down at you.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You actually did it, didn’t you? You gotta tell me everything.”

You shush her violently and run up the stairs, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into your shared room and slamming the door.

“Dude. Holy shit. He fucked me like he hated my guts.”

“And let you spend the night, and apparently let you use his shower too.”

“We showered together.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. Dude he made me cum like a million times, and then this morning. It felt like I’ve lived with him for years or something. It was just so… natural.”

“That’s… unexpected. Honestly I thought you’d call me to come get you in the middle of the night.”

You sigh and fall backwards onto the bed, pulling your phone out and shooting Johnny a quick text. He responds with a simple ‘👍’.

“He gave me his number. And offered to be my boyfriend”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Lainey breathes grabbing your shoulders and pulls you back into a sitting position, shaking you around. “Do not fuck this up.”

@cael-salad

#fanfic #smut #fluff #johnny cage x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat fanfiction #johnny cage #Johnny turns into a little bitch when he’s close

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silverflqmes · 1 year

Text

໒⦂ 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈’𝐌 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆.

synopsis. you’ve been having a hard week with your studies, so hajime has taken it upon himself to lighten the load a bit, even if his actions are minimal.

genre. comfort + fluff

tw. discussion of bad eating habits, mentions of starvation and codependency.

for @melukonova <3

hajime iwaizumi x gn!reader.

⌗ the last thing hajime likes to see is you blue. it just hurts his soul to see you distressed and under pressure like you have been as of late.

⌗ so when you’re not taking care of yourself, that’s his cue to step in and make sure you’re getting your daily needs fulfilled, that way they aren’t neglected in a way that can get you sick.. which is the last thing you need.

⌗ when he sees your water bottle or sippy cup empty ( i have a starbucks venti sized one bc ppl often say it encourages you to drink when a straw is in sight, so i use that even if i have to refill it a few times ), he’ll take it ( you probably won’t notice anyway ) and fill it back up for you.

⌗ haven’t been eating enough or depriving yourself until you finish that one assignment / problem you’ve been stuck on? this is your reminder to eat or he’s bringing you to the kitchen because he cooked you a gourmet meal with all the minerals you need to keep you going. do not deprive yourself of food! you need your energy.

⌗ can’t finish it? that’s okay. you eat what you can, even if it’s just a couple bites — so long as you eat, he’s happy! he made or brought it just for you with your needs in mind to be able to work as effectively as you can without forcing your body through it. and if you’re worried about wasting food if you didn’t finish, don’t worry, he’ll take them to stray cats and dogs.

⌗ tough time doing chores? that’s okay, he’s there through it all. even if he’s a voice on the phone or text messages, he’s there until you get through all of them.

⌗ words of encouragement? they might not be the usual ones you hear, but he’s got you covered.

⌗ if it gets too much and you really can’t handle the pressure, he’s rushing over to your doorstep, no questions asked.

⌗ when you open the door, he’s got his arms out already to hug you for as long as you need it.

⌗ and when you truly can’t take it anymore, he’s there to turn off the computer, close the textbooks and notes you left open, and takes you to the bathroom into a warm bath he prepared to wash your worries away before bed.

it’s after eight and you’re already brimming with anxiety. the last meal you had was that half-assed sandwich you threw together this morning before rushing out the door for school.

your stomach was growling, but you had to finish this assignment. it had been put off one too many times already — today was the due date, it had to be done if you wanted a good enough grade to satisfy yourself. even if that sadly meant denying yourself of your essential needs.

having had enough distractions for the day, you silenced your phone with do not disturb, in hopes of finishing your work faster.

unfortunately, you hadn’t considered the consequences of that.

headphones in, blaring your usual study playlists, you hadn’t noticed the knock on your door. hadn’t noticed the fresh air spill into your room from the crack in doorway, and hadn’t noticed your boyfriend in the doorframe.

a tupperware of takeout food in one hand and what looked to be a biodegradable dixie cup of tea in the other. yet he was still invisible.

it wasn’t until he placed the food down to squeeze your shoulders, that you finally acknowledged your his existence.

“oh- haji, i didn’t hear you come in..” you sighed in relief, relaxing your eyes as you removed your headphones to hear him properly. “what’re you doing home early? i thought you had work until late..”

the olive eyed male rose a brow before letting out a quiet hum. “they let me off early today so i got you your favorite and some peppermint tea.” he answered with a smile, averting his gaze to the screen before you. “still at it, i’m assuming?”

a small laugh left your lips. “still at it.” you confirmed, rubbing the building sleep out of your eyes. “got a lot due this week so i wanted to finish quickly to have more time for us this weekend.”

“of course,” he almost wanted to say, as it was expected — given it was your usual reasoning, and a decent argument. spare time was always good, however you deserved rest too, and it wasn’t like tomorrow wouldn’t be a possibility to finish the rest. “i get it.” he responded finally before kissing your temple. “although i think you’re due for a nice meal and some shuteye for working as hard as you have.” he finished tenderly, closing your notebook for you.

it made you whine a little when he did, as you were insistent on finishing, but the kisses and squeezes on your shoulders had you giving in.

you supposed a small change of plans wouldn’t hurt too much.

and so he pushed the container in front of you, sliding the tea closer before pulling up a stool you normally piled textbooks on. perhaps he emptied it while you weren’t looking.

with a soft exhale, and perhaps the growl of your stomach, you pried the lid off, basking in the tempered steam and smell. hajime just knew you too well.

your face heated a little at the thought as you leaned in close with your chopsticks, muttering a soft word of thanks before digging in.

iwaizumi, having eaten already, simply kept you company, rubbing your back gently before leaning in to whisper. “you did amazing today, i’m proud of you.” a warm smile. “don’t forget that.”

notes. hi sky, little late but i tried to write this as quick as i could for you since it felt like an emergency request by the time frame and wording</3 anyway i hope this helps and that you feel better mami, be sure to take care of yourself when you study or i’m sending BALD iwa. let this be your warning because it’s important to eat and drink water and have sufficient rest while studying, cuz how else are you gonna remember😐

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

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ereardon · 3 months

Text

Golden Hour || Ch. 10

[Bob Floyd x Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

A Bob Floyd & Bradley Bradshaw AU [Hart of Dixie inspired]

Synopsis: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Tropes: Love triangle, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Angst, cursing, alcohol

Chapter summary: Bradley invites Bob and Olive to dinner. Olive and Bob have a real conversation following their spontaneous kiss

WC: 2K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

The office was busy by the time you showed up. You were late on purpose, because the earlier you showed up the more likely you were to run into Bob.

“Dr. James.” Molly was frazzled. You frowned as she showed a handful of paperclipped charts in your arms. “You’re late. We have five patients waiting for you.”

“Give me two minutes and then send the first person in.” You turned, trying not to look up as you made your way into your office. Closing the door, you collapsed into your desk chair. On the other side of the wall, you heard Bob’s voice, low murmurs. A shiver crawled up your back.

And then the door swung open. “Doc!”

“Mr. Peterson,” you said, standing up. “What’s bothering you today?”

He grunted and sat down, heavily, on the exam table. “This bum hip, like always.”

You snapped on a pair of gloves and turned to him. “Alright, let’s see what’s going on.”

The day was chock full of patients. Mr. Peterson’s arthritic hip, two cases of spider bites, one kid with pink eye, an ice cream shop worker with carpal tunnel.

It was well after seven by the time you stood up and inched your door open, peering around. The hallway was empty, Molly was gone. You breathed out a sigh of relief, grabbing your purse and shutting your office door. But just as you turned, a shadow crossed the floor and you looked up.

Bob looked like a deer in headlights. He had one hand on the doorknob to his office, his hair tousled. “Dr. James,” he said, voice low and rough. You remembered what his hands felt like on your neck, his lips on yours.

Your voice gasped a little. “Bob.”

His blue eyes flashed for a moment and you weren’t sure if it was excitement or anger flooding his features. And then all of the light drained out of his eyes and he turned, breezing past you, practically running out the door once again.

***

You were sitting on a barstool at Breakers, nursing a glass of white boxed wine, when a pair of hands wrapped around your shoulders, causing you to gasp.

Bradley spun you around on the chair, a grin spread wide across his face. He leaned down and kissed you, in front of everyone, leaving you gasping for air as he pulled back.

“Hey there, Doc,” he said, settling onto the seat next to you. “Miss me?”

You crossed your legs, hooking one heel into the bottom bar of his stool and Bradley placed a large, warm hand on your bare thigh. “Of course.”

He grinned. “What did you get up to while I was gone?”

You hesitated. On the other side of the bar, Phoenix was watching the two of you, polishing a glass from a few feet away, her dark hair swept up in a ponytail. You shrugged. “Oh not much. Just work, you know. Lots of patients, had to do some filing and admin.”

Bradley frowned. “Admin? I hope Floyd isn’t pushing you too hard.”

The memory of Bob’s kiss flitted across your mind. The way his hand had felt on the back of your neck, tugging you forward with reckless abandon. “No,” you whispered. “He’s been great.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Great? So the two of you are finally getting along?”

“Um, yeah, I think so.”

Bradley pulled his hand from your thigh and smiled, tugging his phone out and placing it on the bar. “Perfect. Then let’s do dinner, the three of us. My place.”

“Oh, no, I—”

“He’s a good guy,” Bradley interrupted. “And we’ve been friends for a long time. So I’d love if the three of us could hang out.”

There was something finite about his words. He had made up his mind. You nodded. “OK, sure. Dinner.”

***

Standing at Bradley’s doorstep, you raised one hand to knock before taking a deep breath. And then you lowered your fist and let out the breath.

What the hell were you doing? Why was this so uncomfortable? You had slept with Bradley once, and kissed Bob once. Did either of them mean anything? You weren’t exclusive with Bradley, you weren’t even dating. You weren’t sure what you were.

On the other hand, Bob Floyd acted like you didn’t exist 99% of the time. The other 1% of the time he was actively hating you.

So why should you care if it was weird for him to see you and Bradley together?

“Are you going to knock, or do you expect the door to fly open through telekinesis?”

You whirled around. Bob stood a few steps down on the pathway, holding a bottle of wine. HIs face was unreadable.

“I was going to knock,” you said.

Bob stepped closer and you caught a whiff of his soap – minty and herbal – and leaned over, knocking on the door sharply, his eyes never leaving yours.

The door swung open a second later, Bradley standing barefoot with a kitchen towel slung over one shoulder. “Hey guys, come on in.”

Bob held out a hand and you stepped inside first, the sound of your heels clacking against the wooden floor. To your surprise, Bradley leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. A blush crept over your face and neck, and you averted your eyes from him or Bob.

“Is that for tonight?” Bob nodded, handing over the bottle of wine. “NIce, thanks man. Come on in.”

You scampered behind Bradley, unable to meet Bob’s gaze, wandering into the kitchen where he had a bowl of guacamole out and some chips. Instinctively, you dragged a chip through the green dip and shoved it into your face to prevent talking. Nerves were bubbling at the surface of your skin.

“How was the trial?” Bob’s voice surprised you. He was a man of so few words, so having him lead the conversation was shocking.

Bradley stood at the stove, stirring a pot of beans. “Long,” he replied. “Tedious, as always.” There was a pause. Then, “Anything happen while I was gone?”

Was it you, or did the air in the room shift? You quickly shoved another tortilla chip in your mouth to cover the silence. Bob put one hand on the counter, not too far from where you sat hunched over the bowl of chips. “Not much,” he replied, nonchalant. “Usual Willow drama.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow. “Drama?”

You practically choked on the chip.

Bob looked at you before responding, “The Mayfields are at it again.”

Relief, hot like vodka, spread through your body. Bradley laughed. “Really? I don’t want to have to oversee the third divorce.”

“Third?” you asked.

He nodded, but Bob’s voice was the one that cut through the kitchen air. “Mr. and Mrs. Mayfield got divorced probably ten years ago, and then promptly had an affair together and got pregnant. They got married again before the baby was born, but divorced when Anna turned three.”

“So they’re divorced?”

“Nope, got together again a few years later. But from the sounds of it, divorce number three might be incoming.”

“This town should be its own sitcom,” you said, lifting the glass of wine that Bradley had poured to your lips.

“So have you changed your mind about our little town, Doc?” Bradley asked, turning around pouring Bob another scotch. You hadn’t even seen him pour the first one.

You shrugged. “It’s no New York.”

“Nothing is.” Bradley put the wooden spoon down. “Floyd, remember that time you came to visit me at Columbia?”

You frowned. Bob had gone to New York? You couldn’t picture him in the city. With all the suits and fast walking and snippy baristas. He would stick out like a sore thumb in his jeans and button down shirts, his Southern twang.

Bob nodded. “I still think about that Korean chicken place you brought me to.”

Bradley laughed. “Wow, Koreatown. I haven’t thought of that in ages.”

You leaned on the counter and watched them. There was something so casual and easy about the way they spoke with each other. It was the first time it dawned on you that they had been friends for years.

And you were getting in the middle of a friendship.

Dinner was delicious, with black beans sauteed with bacon and pork belly tacos and margaritas so strong your head started to buzz halfway through the meal.

Before you realized it, you and Bob were standing in the doorway again.

“Thanks for dinner,” Bob said, reaching out and clapping Bradley on the shoulder.

Bradley grinned. “Anytime Floyd.” He turned to you, leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You should stay.”

You pulled back, face frozen, head shaking. “I have a lot of work in the morning,” you whispered. “But I’ll call you.”

He nodded as Bob opened the door and the two of you were ushered out into the cool night. Before you could even squeak out a word, Bob was halfway down the driveway, speeding toward his house next door. You broke out into practically a jog behind him, running up the stairs to his house in heels. “Floyd!”

He whipped around, eyes wide, one hand on the door. He was silent.

You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly cold. “So this is it?” you asked. “You’re just going to run away every time you see me? What the hell is going on?” you demanded. “Do you take it back?”

Those last words came out as a sharp whisper. Bob reached out, grabbing your arm and pulling you around the front porch of the house to the opposite side, so you were out of view of Bradley’s home.

Even when the two of you rounded the corner, his fingers didn’t leave your skin. Instead, he stepped closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off of his muscular body. “No,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want to take it back.”

“Then what?” you pleaded. “What do you want?”

“Take a wild guess, Olive.” Bob cocked his head to one side.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” His voice forced a chill through your bones, a tingling settling in between your legs. “You’re a smart girl,” he whispered. “I think you know.”

Your chest heaved uncontrollably. No one had ever looked at you the way Bob Floyd was looking at you in that moment. Not Bradley. Not Peter. Not any of the men you had dated in the past. It was all consuming. It threatened to swallow you whole.

“We always want what we can’t have,” Bob murmured, letting his fingertips drop from your arm. “That’s human nature, I guess.”

“Is that your diagnosis, Doctor?”

He nodded.

You shook your head. “In my professional opinion, it’s better to tell the truth than to hide how you feel.”

“So you’re a psychiatrist now?” he murmured.

“God, never.”

Bob grinned. He lifted one arm, placing it on the siding of the house behind your head, creating a triangle with his body, practically pinning you against the house. You looked up, eyes wide. “Bradley is my best friend,” he whispered. “And you’re my business partner.”

“Almond milk isn’t real milk.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I thought we were just listing facts.”

Bob shook his head and grunted. He was exasperated with you. You were all too familiar with that. “Jesus Chris, Livvy, I swear—”

You interrupted him. “Livvy?” No one had ever called you that before.

His eyes flashed. “I mean Olive.” He flushed.

You shook your head. “I like it.”

Bob leaned down, letting his free hand cup your cheek. “Livvy,” he murmured.

“Yes?”

“Shut up and let me kiss you.”

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numinous-void · 3 months

Text

HUMAN RADIOROSE AU (LONG TEXT POST)

okay lemme elaborate on my radiorose human au. i need a name, and ill take suggestions! i’ve currently thought of “cannibal couple au” or “the dixie and the yankee.” but i would love to hear other names. i might write a fanfic on this, but no guarantee…

so they met in a speakeasy that’s popular among rising stars and old timers in the industry.

it’s in new york, alastor left new orleans because more opportunity was in new york (he visits don’t worry), and rosie left boston for the same reason. they both use the mis transatlantic accent to distance themselves from work and personal life to keep distance.

alastor, of course, is a radio star! rosie is a theatre performer and runs her own business selling her own designer clothes which is what she sells in the emporium.

Alastor Duveaux- a creole man with a creole accent, it’s very thick when he’s not using the mid transatlantic accent. he’s mixed, has 3b hair, and is a medium shade- think like ✋🏽 this emoji. he was born and raised in louisiana, and speaks creole french and loves mardi gras. He can speak very minimal hatian french, but his mother raised him with vodou beliefs and practices. he wears a talisman. he speaks with his real accent with rosie eventually. she’s the only one he’s felt romantic attraction for, and hes demisexual.

rosalia janota- she’s red headed, green eyed, pale and has naturally rosy cheeks and lips- hence her rose-based name. janota means “sleek and voguish.” in portuguese so i gave her that last name because she’s a designer. she’s brazilian, and irish, she speaks portuguese. she has a thick boston accent. she loves to perform and design and loves running her designer shop that she call the emporium because of the amount of clothes. she loves being lux and has that classic bostonite bite of attitude- but away from the spotlight, she’s a little more ratty with a sailor mouth.

TOGETHER: they call each other nicknames, “ally,” and “rosie.” they love to tease each other about their accents, colloquialisms, and slang. of course they are nefarious together. they don’t wanna tell the public, and tend to be a little affectionate in the speakeasy since no one can talk about it in public because- well ya’know- prohibition… when they are in each others homes (and eventually the home they own together,) they are actually pretty gothic-morticia and gomez vibe- and are actually pretty silly together. they even try to take photos of themselves in gothic outfits and unconventional fashion (for their time). because they are also nuts, they have dinner dates at home after a fresh kill. they filled little heart shaped viles of each others blood and wear it (rosie as a necklace, alastor as a brooch.)

if yall wanna hear more of this, feel free to ask me or suggest anything to contribute or see if that reminds me of my own idea, i tend to forget things easily.

#send asks #ask me anything #asks open #send me asks #hazbin hotel #radiorose #alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel alastor #rosie #human radiorose au

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hartofdaily · 11 months

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Together, you and I will turn over new leaves, start fresh and conquer the world! So come on! Let's conquer!

ANNABETH NASS & CRICKETT WATTS —Hart of Dixie 4.01 | “Kablang" (2011 - 2015)

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levi-my-beloved · 1 year

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The Ackerbond (Shorts 1): The End and The Beginning

Pairing: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Warnings: none i don't think, just heavy grief and drinking

A/N: uh... hey. i'm back :3

once again as always thank you @peace-for-levi for beta-reading for me. my literal knight in shining armour when it comes to these :3 love you boo

Taglist: @levmada @awesomeness1679 @purplecandygerl @iam-the-villain-of-this-story @pluvio-pluto @midnightbarnes97 @aresclouds @imkumichan @xxpadfootxx @cmjh3 @justa19 @notgoodforlife @leviackermanmyhero245 @kaea-peverall @jakillski @macaronnv @acker-night @oldtownwonderland @snailsposts @lunardeiity @clusiesuzie @hi-imkaiya @isabellawigginss @ackermandick @orionsalos @disaster-writer @temariskadi @nariko1989 @elizaack @dixie-chick @death-by-bullseye @leviackermanst @poisonpeche @arcticcashew @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @littleagxs @wall-maria-fritz @mal-writes

It wasn’t like you to doubt your captain. He’d never lead you astray this far. Sure, he was a fan of taking risks that always seemed to pay off in the end, and his gambles always seemed thoughtless at first (until you realised his long game) but this seemed a little extreme. You tailed him as he strode to the courtyard, the rest of your squad too following behind. He looked formidable in front of you. Captain Erwin Smith. The confirmed next Commander of the Scouts.

Whenever Shadis decided to throw in the towel anyway.

You’d never once questioned him in his gambles, always putting your complete faith in his decisions. But dragging renowned criminals up from the bowels of the Underground City and trying to force them into a military career they had no choice in… that was bold, even for him.

The glare of sunlight made you squint as stone greeted your boots, apprehensive expressions and concerned muttering littered the square. Nobody really knew what was going on, or why it was happening. Only that there would be some unexpected new blood.

It was only Hange who seemed unreasonably excited, waving you over the moment you were at ease. You crossed quickly, glancing around to see if you could spot the newcomers. Moblit, as per usual, seemed utterly beside himself with worry. Nifa, too, was chewing on her nails. You assumed Nanaba was off somewhere being wooed by Miche.

As per usual.

“Woah, what’s with the stress Nifa? I can fucking smell it radiating off you,” you commented.

Hange instantly throwing their arm around your shoulders as you stood with the little group. “Been taking lessons from Miche?” She quipped back weakly, her nerves getting the better of her.

You would almost pity the girl if her stress made sense.

“Did you not hear the rumours? They’re criminals. From the Underground! Why aren’t you stressed?” She squeaked, eyes darting like a scared animal.

“Hange doesn’t seem to be worried.” You pointed out your friend who seemed almost drunk off excitement.

“Worried?! How could anyone be worried? This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in MONTHS! Fresh meat, street meat at that. Who wouldn’t be excited?!”

“I think calling them ‘street meat’ is a surefire way to get yourself stabbed…” you said sceptically, folding your arms as Hange started to shake your shoulders, unable to control themselves.

“Hange please…”

You’d never seen her companion look so tired. Poor Moblit, he didn’t exactly have the easiest job. Hange was notorious for running experiments, with or without the Commander’s permission. Everytime they were caught, they’d claim it was ‘for science!’ and to ‘advance humanity!’ Naturally, your captain condoned her work. But this just added more stress on Moblit’s shoulders.

“Stand there and don’t do anything.” Your group whirled to the raised platform at the sound of Commander Shadis’ voice, Hange’s eyes popping out their head as the three newcomers lined up. Two of them looked happy to be there. The other one looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

“Oh shit, that’s them,” you muttered, eyeing them each individually. Glancing back to your friends, you swore Nifa looked like she was about to faint. Moblit’s eyes were predictably on Hange, who you swore was fucking drooling.

“You’re so fucking weird, Hans– no. don’t wave! What the fuck are you do– oh my Walls!” You gave up trying to fight their hands down, instead pinching your brow in utter embarrassment. You heard a familiar cackle from behind you.

“The fuck are you doing, Hange?”

You were saved by Nanaba sauntering over with Miche in tow. You didn’t even want to know what they’d been up to before coming here. Though you were surprised when Miche split off to talk to Erwin.

“Making us all look fucking weird in association to them, how’s your morning going?”

“Oh, you know, each day that passes brings me closer to death.”

“A ball of sunshine, truly.” You snorted as she came to stand next to you. You’d avoided looking back to the trio on the platform, desperate to keep some of your dignity, but it was unavoidable now.

Oh, how you fucking wished it was still avoidable. “Great. They’re all looking. Hange, the middle one’s actually fucking sneering, would you cut it out?” You clipped them across the back of their head, Nanaba barking a laugh behind you. For once, Hange actually listened, and dropped their hands.

“He’s not sneering, he’s smiling. Look!”

“I’m surprised there’s a girl to be honest.” It was the first time Moblit had spoken properly, and you almost wanted to slap him.

“What, because dangerous criminals can’t be women?” You asked, more than ready to start a fist fight. But he looked instantly apologetic, frantically waving his hands in front of him.

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant at all! It’s just, well, most women tend to become escorts or prostitutes just to make money. They have nothing to sell, so they sell their bodies to survive. In fact, most of them don’t survive. There’s no form of abortions or preventative teas down there, so most either die in childbirth since they’re too weak, or their bodies never recover and they die from diseases.

“Not only that, but most paying customers won’t go for a pregnant woman, or a woman who’s just given birth, so starvation is also one of the main causes of death for women in the… uh, Underground.” Moblit turned a bright red as he noticed the entire group had fallen silent, stares of horrified bafflement all turned to him.

“I have so many questions right now,” Nanaba commented, confused.

“Yeah, the first one being how the fuck you know all this?” you asked, completely in awe of his knowledge.

“I, uh– did some research for Erwin before he started his mission. Looked into living conditions, economy, stock markets, that sort of thing. Unfortunately, in brothels, women are classed as stock.”

“That’s fucking awful. Why doesn’t the King do anything about this?” You’d never been more horrified. Seeing your first titan was nothing in comparison to hearing this. Your mouth dropped open, even Hange looked a little downtrodden.

“Not sure. Overpopulation?” Moblit offered meekly, still trying to calm his burning ears from his previous embarrassment.

You huffed, turning back to look at the three on the platform. “Well, at least she managed to escape it. Hopefully her life will be better up here.” To your surprise, the young girl actually turned her head to look at you, her lips cracking up in a beaming grin. Her smile was infectious, and you found yourself grinning back.

“Wow. Already made a friend.” Hange nudged you with their elbow.

“I will hang you from the wall by the strap of your fucking glasses, I swear–”

“All soldiers line up!” You were rudely interrupted by the Section Commander onstage and the instant bustle of movement.

“Finish your threat later!” Hange called as you walked away from their line to find your own. Unable to muster a good response over the kerfuffle, you simply flipped them off as you walked away, earning yourself a look of disapproval from Erwin.

“Hange.” Seemed to be all the explanation he needed to understand with a quiet ‘ah’ as you took up your position in the line.

Your eyes fell to the newcomers, instantly caught off guard by the middle one borderline glaring at you. You straightened yourself up and glared right back, a silent battle of wills commencing as the soldier onstage addressed the ranks. He raised a thin brow, you followed suit. He set his jaw, yours tensed just as much. It was only when he went to introduce himself did he finally look away, almost rolling his eyes.

“Levi.”

At least his introduction was short. You had to physically refrain from making an internal joke about his height.

“Squad Leader Flagon! You will be taking on these three as part of your own squad, thus you will show them to their barracks and commence their training instantly.”

You internally cringed. Why, the fuck, did Shadis and Erwin think that Flagon would be the best fit for these three. Surely anyone else would be better suited. Why didn’t Erwin fucking take them on and make them a part of your squad?

His decisions really did make no sense sometimes.

“Sir!” Flagon saluted, though you could tell by the clench of his fist behind his back, he wasn’t exactly thrilled. Hange, on the other hand, couldn’t have looked more excited. These poor criminals had no idea what they were walking into. Turns out they were in more danger here then they were down there, with Hange on the prowl.

“Soldiers dismissed!” You saluted in unison with the rest of the courtyard, most making any excuse to leave instantly after the dismissal.

“Sooooooo? Whaddya think?!” Hange sidled up to you, Nanaba and Nifa chatting to each other as they, too, made their way over. You threw a glance back to the trio currently being talked at by Flagon. None of them looked engaged. The girl kept looking around with an excited smile; Isabel was her name. Farlan, the taller guy, kept trying to hold a conversation with the Squad Leader, but it very much looked like a half-hearted attempt. And Levi, once again, looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“I mean, they look like soldiers enough. Though isn’t Isabel a bit young? She only looks twelve,” you murmured, a little worried they’d allowed a child to join the Scout Regiment. The moment you turned away, you felt holes in the back of your head, and you snapped back to see Levi glaring at you. Again. “Not entirely sure what his problem is though…” You shivered despite yourself.

“Awww, maybe he’s just got a crush!” You snorted in disbelief.

“Hange, that is not the look of somebody who has a crush. That’s the look of somebody who would like to see my blood dyeing his fucking curtains.”

Oh, he could absolutely hear you. Though, you didn’t know if that was a bad thing. In a split second he looked a little taken aback, searching your face, before looking away back to the conversation.

“Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve upset him!” Hange lamented, just as Nanaba and Nifa joined the two of you.

“Think it might take more than that to upset the most notorious criminals of the Underground City since Kenny the Ripper,” Nanaba flattened, giving Hange a look of disdain before glancing back at the new trio. “Honestly? I don’t trust them. Fucking criminals? The hell was Erwin thinking? Whoever rooms with them is gonna wind up dead!”

Looking at them? You doubted that. One was just a kid. Younger than every new cadet in the corps. The other, Farlan, looked pleasant enough. Not unlike Erwin with his disarmingly charming smiles. But Levi?

Yeah, he could definitely kill someone in their sleep.

“Bit dramatic. don’t ya think? Two of them seem… I don’t think nice is the right word, but–”

“Less murderous than the other one?”

“Exactly!” You snapped your fingers to Hange, who sent you a wink. You looked back just as Flagon started to walk away, calling after the trio like dogs to heel. You snorted as the shorter one scoffed, never seeing somebody look so insulted in your life. You couldn’t blame him though. Flagon had that effect on people.

“We should probably get ready, Hange. Likelihood is Flagon’s gonna want his whole squad there training. Though I can’t say I’m looking forward to it,” Nifa sighed, nervously chewing on her cuticles. You had half a mind to slap her hand down from her lips.

“I. Am. Ecstatic! Oh, I cannot wait to see what these guys can do. You know, from what I’ve heard, they taught themselves everything! Like, the inner workings of the ODM gear, the blade mechanisms, and apparently they could even out manoeuvre some of the best Scouts. It was only thanks to Miche that the little one– oh, what was his name…”

“L–”

“Levi! Yes, that’s it, Levi. It was only thanks to Miche that Levi was actually caught. Honestly, I reckon once he saw his friends captured, he just gave up. Noble of him, no?”

Nanaba barked a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Noble? Sure, for a rat.”

Something primal flipped in you, your legs itching to be anywhere but here. You felt unreasonably angry at her for saying that. To the point where if you didn’t find an excuse to leave, you would likely end up slapping her across the face.

“I, uh, need a shit or… something. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” You didn’t spare them a parting glance as you left for the barracks, trying to calm your adrenaline.

You stopped dead upon hearing your name called from the men’s barracks, having only breezed past the door to get to your own room. You sighed heavily. That voice was Flagon’s. You knew it was. You could hear his infuriating tones from the training grounds.

You back tracked, popping your head round the doorframe.

“Sir?”

“Have you seen Nifa? Or Hange? I need one of them to take the girl to her room.”

“But I’ve already told you! I don’t wanna go to–”

“Quiet!”

You watched Isabel fold her arms petulantly, and you definitely put her age in the twelve to thirteen bracket.

“Uh, no I haven’t. Not since the courtyard,” you responded, staring at him blankly as he raised a brow of expectation. You looked around the room, confused before a sickly realisation dawned in your chest, and with a heavy sigh, you continued. “Sir.”

That seemed to stroke his ego enough. “Damnit, well I can’t go in there.”

You searched his face to see if he was being serious right now. Did he not notice what was standing right in front of him?

“Oh no, if only there was another woman around to take her to the women’s barracks,” you lamented sarcastically, flattening Flagon with a cold stare and just waiting for the message to sink in. He looked reluctant, but relinquished anyway.

“Fine. You take her then. I don’t care,” he spat, storming past you and knocking into your shoulder as he went. You genuinely couldn’t tell whether it was deliberate or an accident. You didn’t pay much mind, taking a moment to curb your frustration at the man before turning your attention back to the girl.

“You coming?” You raised a brow, nodding your head back to the door. Though she shook her head fervently.

“No! We’ve always stayed together, it’s not fair!”

Your eyes widened slightly. Why the hell would she want to stay? The men’s barracks constantly stank of BO and shit. “I mean, you can stay here if you want,” you offered, knowing she would finally take the offer to come with you.

“Wait, really? Thank fuck! That Flagon guy kept saying I had to be with the women but that’s just not how things work with us.”

…Or not.

“Oh fuck I didn’t actually think you would say yes. No, you can’t stay here, and I’m kinda surprised you want to. It stinks to the Walls and back.” You scrunched your nose, glancing at your surroundings. Yep, this was definitely a men’s room. You saw Isabel about to open her mouth again in protest, before Farlan stepped in.

“Ah, sorry. We’ve just, never been separated before. Grouped together for survival down there and it’s gonna take some time for us to adjust,” he explained, scratching the back of his head. Somewhere in your mind, you registered how surprisingly sweet he was. A face you couldn’t say no to. Annoyingly.

You sighed heavily. “Look, if it puts you at ease, you can bunk in my dorm. We’ve had a bed spare for a while since– well, yeah, a while ago. I’ll get Nifa to find you some sheets and I’ll steal some pillows or something.” It was more of a mental checklist than intentionally telling them what you had planned. You trailed off, still thinking about what you had to do to get things ready for them, before your thoughts were interrupted.

“What happened? You said you’ve had a bed spare for a while. What happened?” It was the first time you’d heard him speak after just saying his own name. You raised your eyes to meet Levi’s, your expression falling solemn.

“What always happens. Titans.” You didn’t mean to sound so hollow, but the room fell silent at the mention of what awaited you beyond the Walls. None of them had even seen a titan before. You wished you possessed that same blissful ignorance. Ilse didn’t. “Anyway,” you broke the silence awkwardly, “come on, I’ll show you to your bed. You guys can come too if you want, it might be nice to know how to get to each other easily. Only Flagon seems to be a stickler for rules here. Men are constantly in the women’s barracks, and vice versa.”

You were glad for the short hop to the opposite side of the small square, explaining the different wooden buildings to the three of them. “So, that’s your barracks, that one is laundry, washing up, all that shit, the one opposite is the main mess hall and kitchen, that track leads down to the training grounds which is where you’ll be later today, and thiiiiiiiiis–” you opened the door to the women’s side of the barracks, “–is where you’ll be staying. Quaint, no? Certainly smells better than the men’s.” You glanced at the two behind you. “Uh, no offence or anything.”

“None taken.” Okay that was definitely sarcastic. Even his glare was dripping with sarcasm. Yeah, Levi really needed to lighten up.

Out of courtesy, you knocked on your door before striding in, not actually listening for a response. You were lucky Nanaba wasn’t changing when you invaded her space.

“You know, there’s no real point in knocking if you’re not gonna listen to the response.”

“I didn’t think anyone was in here!”

“Evidently.”

“I’m just showing the new kid to her bunk. Good news! We got a new roomie,” you grinned, though froze upon seeing her disgusted expression. Straightening up, you folded your arms. “Got a problem with that?”

Unfortunately, Nanaba was never one to back down from a fight. Neither were you, which would often lead to some explosive arguments when you butted heads. “Yeah, I do. The fucking criminal? She still stinks like shit.”

Your fury flared, eyes flashing dangerously at her arrogance. “I’d like to see you crawl up from the bowels of hell still smelling like roses,” you spat, gaze narrowing venomously on your roommate, who returned your animosity.

“I’m just saying, if she slits our throats in our sleep I’m going to fucking kill you.”

You barked a sharp laugh of disbelief. “She’s a fucking kid, Nana. You know you don’t have to be a cunt about everything. You can just let things happen without opening your shitty, toxic mouth about it. If you don’t like it, find another dorm.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Deadly fucking serious. So either get over yourself and stop being such a bitch, or leave. Two choices. Pick one. Because she’s staying.” You all but snarled. You’d never pegged Nanaba as being such an arrogant bitch about things like this. She’d always been pretty chilled out, so you had no idea where this was coming from. Before she could answer though, Isabel piped up from the bed, a little too meekly for your liking.

“It’s okay… I can find somewhere else. I don’t have to–”

“The hell you will. You’re staying.” Your tone held no room for argument. “Nanaba,” you prompted sharply. The woman strode up to you, her face inches from yours, scrutinising. Holding firm, you resisted the urge to push her back.

“This won’t bring her back, you know.”

You stopped dead, and the concept of breathing became merely that. A concept.

“The fuck are you talking about…?” It was a stupid question. You already knew what she was talking about. Though there was no sympathy in her eyes. Only burning savagery.

“I get you wanting the empty space filled, but this won’t bring her back. Stop dragging us into your guilt fuelled–”

She didn’t finish. You didn’t let her finish. Before she could blink you shoved her against the wall, your arm against her throat. Not cutting off her airway, but enough for her to realise you could if you wanted to.

“Finish that sentence. I fucking dare you.” You’d didn’t usually let your anger get the better of you, nor that guilt she was talking about. Besides, she was still alive. Her body was never found. You were just waiting for the day she came home.

“It’s been three years. She’s dead. Move. On.”

You pulled off her with a sharp shove into her throat, levelling her with a piercing glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on. I know everyone else is oblivious but I can see right through you. Y–”

“Nanaba, I'll give you thirty seconds to leave before I kick the ever-loving shit out of you.”

She looked a little taken aback. You didn’t give out empty threats like that. Not ones you could easily achieve, and if two seconds ago was anything to judge you by, you saw her come to her own conclusion. “Fine. But if we all end up dead, know it will be your fault,” she hissed, her lip curling in disgust as her eyes slid to the kid next to you.

Some wave of protectiveness hit you, and you stepped in front of her without thinking. Nanaba scoffed, before storming out, Farlan swiftly moving out of her way. Levi stayed put. You almost smiled at that.

The moment she was gone, you relaxed slightly, though your shoulders still tensed. “Sorry. About that. She’s not usually like that but–” you stopped dead as an unfamiliar warmth encased your side, Isabel’s arms wrapping around your middle. Your eyes bulged, not really knowing how to respond.

“Thank you,” she muffled into your arm. Your confusion melted into a warm smile. Who knew criminals could be so endearing?

“Don’t mention it. I should probably leave you to get settled in. I’ll come back for you when Flagon starts training. Should be in, like, an hour or so.” Understanding her cue, Isabel took her arms from you, though her eyes still sparkled with gratitude. You still had one question for her. “Out of curiosity… How old are you?” There was a little trepidation in your tone, almost too scared to ask out of fear of the answer.

“Fourteen!” she answered proudly.

Your heart sank. “Oh my Walls, you really are just a kid… Erwin has so much to answer for,” you muttered, your words clipped. You turned only to be faced by the other two, having almost completely forgotten they were there. As if your display wasn’t embarrassing enough, you forgot the three most dangerous criminals to previously walk the Underground were there to witness it. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“You guys are welcome to stay. Or not. Honestly do what you want. Personally speaking, I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

Drink. You needed a drink. Tea, coffee, vodka, anything. Not many taverns would be open this time of day, and you didn’t have permission to leave the premises today either, but that hadn’t really stopped you before. You strode back out into the fresh air, which helped somewhat, and made a beeline for the mess hall. Your hands almost shook as you slipped through the back door and into the kitchen, not really wanting to talk to anyone. There weren’t many in the hall, but you still didn’t want to risk it.

You searched the cupboards first, for any sign of alcohol, as doubtful as that was. Predictably, your search came up short. As did your search for coffee. Fucking Hange. Tea it was. And in hindsight, it was probably the healthier option. Though the lid of the tin was dusty with disuse, and you didn’t doubt the inside was exactly the same. Nobody drank tea here. Not even you. Only when you were truly desperate.

Like now.

With trembling fingers, you lit the stove, filled the pot, and waited. Though with the growing silence, you started to feel uneasy. The back of your head started to itch, and you inched towards the knife block. Fuck, was Nanaba right? Were they seriously here to pick you all off one by one? An uncanny rage fuelled your bones. If you were going to be taken down here, you weren’t going down without a fight. Your fingers curled around the hilt of a kitchen knife.

“Pretty sure you don’t need–”

Startled, you whirled, the blade flying from your hand. Truthfully, you didn’t want to throw it so soon, not without seeing who it was. But you hadn’t expected anyone to speak up. The room was silent after the sharp twang of the metal embedding into the wood, inches from the thug’s face.

“–knives to make tea,” he finished, silver eyes gliding to the still quivering blade, a brow quirked with intrigue. “Good throw.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” You accused, placing the second knife in your hand back into the block and crossing back over to your boiling pot.

“You… throw a knife at me, and ask what my problem is?” Levi drawled, folding his arms and leaning against the door frame. His eyes flickered to your shaking hands, chalking it down to adrenaline.

“Not many people take kindly to being sneaked up on like that, just to let you know,” you bit back, mind still reeling from this shitshow of a day. Pressing your palm to your forehead, you tried to calm the headache you could already feel pounding against your skull, hoping the tea might help with the ailment. “I’m making tea, if you want any.” You offered, still trying to recover from your close murder charge.

“You change your tune quickly.”

You sighed, exhausted. “Look, it’s been a hell of a day. Do you want some stupid tea or not?” Dealing with some tiny guy’s attitude was not how you wanted the rest of your afternoon to go, honestly. And you were already getting really sick of his blank stares.

“Sure.”

“Oh, don’t sound too grateful, will you?”

At the expense of that knife possibly finding its way into your back, you turned back to the counter, now retrieving two mugs from the cupboard. You saw one of the strainers missing from the open drawer, and chalked that down to Captain Erwin. Though you hadn’t seen him, you thought you could detect the slightest warmth to the cast iron pot. He must have brewed himself one beforehand. Wait, was he the one to finish off the coffee?

Bastard.

The kettle started to whistle, announcing with great flamboyance that its job was done. Using the stained cloth from the hook next to the stove, you poured the steaming water into one of the mugs, before dipping the strainer of leaves in. You almost turned round and threw the pot at Levi’s head when you heard him scoff in disgust.

“What?” You asked, too irritated to turn and look at him.

“How is everything up here just as filthy as it is down there? Would have thought you’d keep your standards higher.”

“Don’t like it? Get your own shit then.” Why, today of all days, was this fucking asshole testing you? If he didn’t stop soon, you might genuinely have to answer to the court after killing him.

“You’re making it wrong as well.”

The slam of the pot on the counter shattered the peace of the kitchen, your glare akin to the knife you hurled at the door earlier. Though he seemed completely unbothered by your fury. He was the second person you’d met who didn’t shit themselves when you looked at them like this. The first person being Nanaba.

You watched him shrug, before sauntering up next to you, taking the strainer from your hands and dumping the contents into the bin, before pouring the brew away.

“What the fuck? That was m–”

“Sit.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Excuse me? You just got here and are already barking out orders. I’m a higher rank than you, you can’t just–”

Oh shit. Looks like you weren’t the only one with a hair-raising glare. With a furious huff, you shut your mouth. And, to your credit, you did technically sit. But clearly where he didn’t want you too. The countertop seemed as good a place as any, but his own annoyed glare told you otherwise. Guess he just should have been more specific with his instructions

Though your heart was still angry at the events of the day, you felt your face muscles relax as you watched the almost mesmerising process of this man make a cup of tea. He made it with the expertise you would not expect someone like him to have. You almost felt bad for judging him before. Almost.

“There. Now it won’t taste like piss.”

“Lot’s of experience with that kind of thing, have you?” To your unending surprise, he actually smiled. Well, almost. It was a half smirk hidden by a teacup, but there was a smile there! You swore.

Falling into a strangely comfortable silence, you finally let yourself relax, the aromas of the brew sending you into some kind of peaceful trance. Even your shoulders relaxed, which was completely out of character for you. The back of your head touched the wooden cupboards behind you as you let out a breath, feeling a slight tickle on the side of your face.

Hange called it your superpower, to know when someone was looking at you, but you could always feel it, no matter who it was or how far away they were. So you weren’t surprised when you turned your head to see Levi looking at you with a brow raised.

“What?” You asked, a little less unkindly this time.

“Nothing” he responded, turning back to face the other side of the kitchen. You huffed a laugh, returning back to your relaxed position. It was his turn to ask.

“What?” He asked, almost defensively, and your smile broke into a grin.

“Nothing, just… thinking. Guess I can cross ‘have tea with a notorious criminal’ off my bucket list.”

There was a silence, and you worried briefly if you’d offended him in some way, until you heard a huff of laughter mirror your own.

“Guess you can.” He didn’t turn to look at you this time, but he didn’t need to for you to know he was as relaxed as you were. Weird. “Thank you.”

Well… that caught you off guard. You sat up, crossing your legs on the counter. “What for?”

“Helping Izzy. Defending her. Your roommate’s an asshole.”

You sighed, resting your elbows on your knees. “She’s not so bad when you get to know her, she’s just protective and can lash out when shit like that happens.” You couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for treating her the way you did when you could have just had a conversation with her about it instead.

“Still. Thanks.”

A smile pulled at the corners of your lips, and you let it unfurl. “Don’t mention it. You two aren’t so different.”

Oh he turned to look at you then, eyes narrowing in offence. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You smiled once again, blossoming into a teasing grin. “You both seem like assholes, but not so bad when you get to know you.”

Levi clicked his tongue in what you assumed was irritation. A better reaction than you were hoping for. “You don’t know me.”

Hopping down from the counter, you drained the last remnants of your drink, now in much better spirits than you were before this conversation. “Not yet I don’t, but I will. Your tea tastes like shit by the way. See you at training!” You waved him goodbye before he could respond, though you didn’t miss his mutter of “fucking brat” as you left the kitchen, almost skipping down to the training ground.

Maybe these three won’t be such a nuisance afterall. And maybe he won’t be as bad as you thought he would be.

“So, then what happened?” Hange was way, way too excited about this fight between you and Nanaba.

You’d only really seen them get this hyper when the conversation turned towards titan anatomy, so this was a little foreign to you. They also seemed to be strangely interested in your shared tea with the raven headed one, though their cause of interest escaped you.

“Well, then she just kind of left, and I apologised to those three on her behalf. Was she out of order? Or did I just majorly overreact?” You asked with no small degree of insecurity. Though you were known for your silent anger, you were also known for occasionally lashing out when stressed. And fuck were you stressed during that exchange.

“I’ve never really known Nanaba to act out like that. It’s quite strange for her, she doesn't seem the type to lash out on a whim,” Nifa thought aloud, her eyes fixed somewhere beyond the ground.

You’d found your way down to the training ground after sharing impromptu tea with Levi, being there almost as early as Hange before other squads started to trickle in. You’d instantly spotted Nanaba whispering to Miche, you assumed about the situation. That was fine, they could whisper all they want. You were content knowing you were in the right about this. Right?

An ear piercing screech of your name had your head whipping round, wondering who the fuck could be that excited to see you, other than Hange who was standing right there. The voice wasn’t familiar, not that you remembered anyway, and it only made sense when your eyes focussed on the young girl who’d hugged you earlier.

Isabel.

“Oh hey, you, how’re you–” Your eyes widened in horror as you realised she wasn’t going to stop barrelling towards you, and had full intention of crashing straight into you. “Oh no wait waitwaitwaitWAIT I–”

Cut off by the surprising impact, you felt the full weight – which was admittedly not much – of this fourteen year old girl colliding into you, throwing you backwards into the dirt in possibly the tightest hug you’d ever experienced in your life. With little grass to cushion your fall, your spine sang in distress, vibrations rattling up and down your vertebrae. Though, despite the pain, you managed to huff out a wheezed laugh. “Hey, Izzy.”

You could barely hear her response over Hange’s howl of laughter, and Nifa’s delicate giggles. “I was hoping you would be here.”

Your heart clenched, having not expected her to latch onto you quite so quickly. Not that you minded, in a strange way. It was extremely endearing how, for a criminal of The Underground, she was so trusting.

“‘Think I’d miss your big debut? I wanna see what you’re capable of, kid,” you grinned as she clambered to her feet, taking Nifa’s hand to help yourself up. Hange had barely managed to stop howling like a jackal before the blond came running up, spewing more apologies than you could count.

“I am so sorry about her, she doesn’t know her own strength. We didn’t think she could knock somebody like you over. Fuck sake’s, Isabel, can’t you just behave like an adult for once in your fucking life? All you needed to do was–”

You couldn’t help but feel like Farlan was being a little harsh with her, especially when her face morphed into a petulant pout. She reminded you of yourself at that age. Headstrong, brash, explosive. You never quite had her over-trusting nature nor her excitement, but the similarities were there nonetheless.

“It’s fine,” you butted in, interrupting him. “Seriously, I’ve received worse injuries than a kid knocking me over, I can promise you that.” That same familiar tickle made itself known on the side of your head, and you glanced to see Nanaba staring with nothing but searing hatred. Fucking Walls, you were starting to think this problem ran deeper than just a criminal moving into your dorm. Though… when you put it like that…

“Calm down, both of you. Behaving like children.”

It was strange, you thought, that for someone who talked so little, his voice was incredibly distinctive. You noted Levi already had his gear strapped to his hips, only now realising Farlan had done the same. Assuming Isabel had simply run straight down here, you quirked your head to the side.

“You're not joining them in the air, Izzy?”

“Don’t call her that.”

You blinked, surprised at the venom in Levi’s tone. Just as you thought you could have been friends with the man, he goes and pulls stunts like this. Fucking freak. Hange sucked in a breath behind you, clearly wondering whether you were about to go ape shit at him. But you’d had enough of that today, and you weren’t going to let this taint the tea from earlier.

“Okay. You’re not joining them in the air, Isabel?” You rephrased. Might as well respect the man’s wishes. They were family, they said so themselves.

More or less.

“I think Flagon wanted me to start off with the horses, since I’m already good with animals.”

You paused for a moment, wondering just how many animals found their way down into The Underground, until you considered rats and mice. And as sweet as it was that she could defend the rodents, horses were a completely different ballgame. Though you didn’t want to crush that starry-eyed look.

“You’re gonna nail it. Good luck!” You offered her two thumbs up, hoping she would take the cue and end the conversation.

She didn’t.

“Luck? I don’t need luck. None of us have ever needed luck. Ever. We make our fortune–”

“Izzy…” Farlan warned, placing a hand on her arm.

Your gaze oscillated between them, wondering how to exit this conversation without seeming rude. Your hopes lay with Hange and Nifa, who had taken several steps back to watch the exchange, muting and chuckling between themselves. Clearly they were going to be no help at all.

“–and you haven’t even seen what bro can do with ODM gear. He’s like a bird! Constantly swooping and soaring faster than any of us can, that’s for sure. And faster than any of you can! Just you wait, you’ll s–”

“We’re done here.”

How did Farlan have no luck getting through to the kid, when Levi could stop her in her tracks in a heartbeat? It was baffling to witness, and you almost pitied the blond, if you were being honest. Although… Was that…?

Definitely. That was definitely the slightest quirk of amusement on Levi’s face. Or was it fondness? You honestly couldn’t tell the difference. You doubted anybody could, not even these two.

“Well, that was certainly something! At least you know the girl likes you, and maybe the blond too, that’s three outta three!” Hange beamed excitedly, hooking an awkward arm around your shoulders as you both watched the three walk away, Isabel still gesturing wildly as she spoke. Sweet kid.

“I haven’t really spoken to Farlan much, and I don’t know if you just heard what happened, but Levi literally told me to not call Isabel by a nickname… so I have at least one out of three, maybe,” you sighed, folding your arms. You were no stranger to people blowing hot and cold, it was borderline required in the Scouts. But he’d been here for less than a full day, and he was already giving you incredibly mixed signals?

Ridiculous human being.

“Hey.”

Your heart froze the second you heard her dulcet tone and irritated cadence. Hange looked between you and the woman behind you, before decisively opting to not be a part of what was obviously going to be a very awkward conversation, and wandering off to find Nifa. Where’d she gone during your chat with the three newcomers?

With a ‘fuck you’ of a huff, you turned to meet Nanaba’s hard stare. Sucking in a breath, you kept your arms folded. If she was going to be defensive, so were you. “Hey.”

“Wanna talk?” She offered stiffly.

“Depends. Are you gonna be a cunt?” You asked, raising a brow as she rolled her eyes. Well, at least she wasn’t going to instantly go for your throat. A bonus.

“You can understand why I was, though, right?”

You let loose the breath you were holding, realising this wasn’t going to be a fight, but rather an actually mature conversation. Holy shit. You never thought it possible. “Obviously. I’m not an idiot, Nana. But seriously? She’s a child. How much murdering do you think she’s actually done? Do you not think maybe the other two might be doing most of the stabbing, and the worst she’s done is maybe steal a man’s coin purse?” You asked, trying in earnest to make her see your point of view. You knew why she blew up like she did. It made sense.

“I know, I know. I just– I'm wary, okay? We’re allowed to be wary around notorious murderers and thieves.” Unable to meet your eyes, Nanaba instead turned to the ground. You knew then she was sorry, for what she said. And you forgave her, of course you did. She was part of your family. They all were. Nana, Nifa, Hange, Miche and Moblit, even Erwin at a push, though he was always busy nowadays.

“Nana… I get it,” I also care too much about you all to let something happen. “And… you were right. This won’t bring her back… I know that…”

She raised her eyes, now finally looking at you. It seemed her message got through your thick skull, too. “But we have a job, just as people, to make newcomers feel comfortable. The reason I told her she could bunk with us was because Flagon was being a fucktard about it. She’s never been away from her own family before.

“Think about it, being down in that shit for fourteen years, bonding with people in her same situation, just as we have, and then suddenly having to be away from them? I just… I wanted her to feel safe.” It was a kindness you were shown back when you were fourteen. When you’d upped and left your grandmother for reasons you don’t fully understand or remember. But you’d been made to feel welcome. To feel safe. It was so foreign you didn’t understand at first, but now, obviously, you do. And you had done so for the last four years.

Nanaba nodded, scratching the base of her neck. She knew. And you knew. You both did. “I hate fighting with you,” she admitted to your slight surprise. It was no secret you and Nana had been close since the day you met the girl, but that also meant that when the two of you fought, it was so much worse.

“Why? Cuz you know I’d kick your ass?” You grinned, shattering the tension between you two. Nanaba scoffed, returning back to her usual, snarky self. A light punch to your arm had her usual demeanour confirmed. It had only been just over an hour, but you didn’t realise how much you’d missed her.

“I beat you once!”

“And you never let me forget it.”

Though the moment was sweet, you both knew it was going to be cut shorter than either of you wanted by the grating howl of Flagon’s voice. With shared huffs of laughter, the two of you wandered over to the forest’s edge to watch the two new Scouts demonstrate what they could do.

Hange already had their hands on their hips, surveying the blond’s skill. Your eyes followed theirs, their head nodding in surprised awe.

“He’s not bad, ya know. Not Miche or yourself, but he could easily fit in with the rest of Erwin’s squad. They were self taught, he said? Incredible…” They mused, mostly to themselves.

It was one of the reasons you loved Hange as much as you did. Half the time, you didn’t even have to engage in conversation with them, you could just listen in and nod where appropriate. Unless they started to get ahead of themselves and you genuinely had to intervene and tell them to go the fuck to bed because it was two in the morning and you had shit to do tomorrow… because that totally never happened.

“I’m actually with you there. Flagon doesn’t deserve these guys, they’re too good for him.”

You snorted, hearing Nanaba talk shit about one of your superiors, and it warmed your heart. She was saying this about the very same criminals she was freaking out about earlier. Looking at her out of the corner of your eye, you saw her smile to you. You nodded in response.

“I could talk to Erwin, see if I could change his mind on where he wanted these three to go. Though he’s never made a shitty decision like this for no reason…” You fell into thought. He’d seen their capabilities when he took them from The Underground. He knew how good they were, so why the hell wouldn’t he want them on his squad? They could be perfect additions. You made up your mind there and then to find him later and have a chat. You still needed to chew his ass out for benching you on that mission anyway.

“If any one of us can, it’s you. He doesn’t listen to Hange.”

“I wonder why…”

“Hey!”

You barked a laugh just as the blond came down from the trees. It looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat. Something definitely wasn’t right here. Someone with not only skills, but the endurance of a veteran? How could Erwin Smith pass up the opportunity of not wanting them?

Flagon grumbled something along the lines of ‘taking these criminals down a peg or two’ and it brought you more satisfaction than you thought it would. Good, let him see just how good they were. You knew his opinion would never be changed, it just made him being proven wrong even better.

“Reset! Alright, you, get up there,” he ordered gruffly to Levi, who you watched give Flagon just another one of his flat stares. You wondered briefly what he was thinking about when he did that? Was he imagining snapping the man’s neck in his sleep? Or was he not listening at all and thinking about something else completely different? It would forever be a mystery to you. Hange’s overexcitement, however, was anything but a mystery to you.

“I’ve been waiting for this. Ever since hearing what happened on that mission, I’ve wanted to see what he can do… oohoohoohoo! This is going to be good!”

And there was the look you were so afraid of. That terrifying fire in their irises. You knew that was when shit was about to get weird.

And weird did it get.

“You’re not supposed to hold them like that, you’re going to break the blades.” Looking over from where you’d been shitting yourself at Hange’s expression, your head tilted in confusion. To be fair, Flagon had a point. You’d never seen anyone hold ODM gear the way he was; with one of the blades pointing backwards. How the hell did that even work? How was it possible to operate the gear when the switches and triggers were all the wrong way around? You almost stepped in to support your superior, before remembering who he was and why you’d felt such satisfaction earlier.

Fuck Flagon.

Besides, Shortass McGee didn’t take any notice and honestly? You weren’t surprised. If you could barely hold a conversation with him, Flagon didn’t stand a chance.

“Interesting… he uses it backwards. Huh…”

Was Hange taking fucking notes? You wouldn’t be surprised if they told you this was suddenly all for research into some kind of titan/human correlation bullshit. Though that would be a little farfetched, even for them. But you remembered something from earlier just as they said that. Something you thought weird at the time, but didn’t comment on.

“He holds his cups like that too. Sort of, backwards-ish. Like this,” you demonstrated with an imaginary mug, “He held it with sort of a claw thing going on. I didn’t say anything, but thought it was fucking weird.”

Nanaba hummed in thought next to you, though once again glancing at her, you realised she was in no way paying attention to the conversation, and was instead staring, not even subtly, at Miche’s ass as he bent down. Disgusting girl…

With the ODM Gear’s signature hiss of gas, Levi was in the air, and the session had begun. Well, he moved insanely well, how the fuck did he make ODM gear look so effortless? Not even you or Miche could look this graceful. You detected, with no surprise, a kernel of jealousy sprouting within your chest. Fucking bullshit tiny criminal able to just fucking fly like that. What an asshole…

Your jealousy was only nurtured the moment he tore apart the nape of his first practice titan. Even with his grip so fucked up and backwards how was he able to pour so much power into his strikes? The padded target almost exploded in impact, shards of wood scattering to the ground. He sliced through the target? That’s just fucking showing off. How was he so good? It made no goddamn sense. You kind of hated him for it.

“Bro’s always been good with ODM gear,”

You almost shat yourself. When the hell did Isabel creep up next to you? You thought she was training with the horses? But before you could ask her anything, her blond friend joined you.

“Yeah… even before I met him, Levi was a skilled fighter. Picked a fight with some older thug at age… oh, what was it…? Fourteen, I think. The guy was like, in his thirties and Levi almost killed him.”

You had so many questions. “Wait, you all didn’t meet at the same time?” You queried, glancing between Isabel and Farlan. They definitely looked more like siblings than the girl did with Levi. You briefly wondered why she only called Levi ‘brother’.

“Nah, I met Levi first and he joined my gang. Yep, strangely enough I’m actually the leader. Or I was. It’s more of a council now,” he responded to your look of surprise at the mention of him being in charge.

It was strange, Farlan still referring to the three of them as a gang even though they're now in the Scouts. You jokingly hoped they didn’t start taking on jobs on the surface.

“Then they met me, and after recognising my extraordinary talent and skill, instantly invited me to be one of them!” Izzy chimed in with one of the biggest grins you’ve ever seen on a person in your life.

“You begged us to let you join until Levi taught you how to clean,” Farlan clarified bluntly, earning a soft chuckle from you and an irritated scowl from the girl. You could get used to this. You could get used to having these two around, maybe even three if Levi lightened up a bit.

“Was he always so… irritable?” You asked, turning your attention back to where he was ripping apart various targets with viscous precision. You decided there and then you never wanted to find yourself on the wrong side of his blade.

Farlan shrugged, also looking back to his friend. “As long as I’ve known him, yeah. But it’s understandable, considering the shit he’s dealt with.”

You tilted your head in curiosity. “Oh? Like what? He’s a man living in The Underground. Sure it’s not ideal, but at least he didn’t have to– what the fuck is Flagon doing?!” You interrupted yourself, spying the hateful man having now positioned himself next to the titan right in Levi’s path.

There was no point asking, you knew exactly what he was doing. Trying to catch him out. Any jealousy fueled spite you’d previously felt was instantly drained the moment you realised this was going to result in Levi getting hurt.

You went to grab the handles of your own gear, ready to jump into action if need be, or at least try and catch the man before he goes spiralling out of control.

Turns out you didn’t need to. He had the reflexes of a cat.

The second that target flipped up from the ground, he was already dodging, as if he anticipated its arrival. What should have been a nasty collision became a masterclass in manoeuvres, and within moments, it was over, the dummy titan sliced to bits, and Levi back on the ground.

Ho-ly shit.

You all watched in wide-eyed awe, speechless. Isabel and Farlan smiled slyly next to you, smug satisfaction written all over their faces. You couldn’t even be mad. That was one of the greatest displays of ODM skill you’d ever fucking seen, and though you were happy to suffer the consequences of ripping your superior a new asshole for pulling a stunt like that, it seemed you wouldn’t have to.

“Huh… you weren’t kidding,” you managed to state absently, hands falling from your own gear. Even Flagon looked on in amazement.

“Let’s go.” Was all the man said, leading his two friends away from the training ground and back up to the barracks. You huffed a laugh.

Erwin was either an idiot, or a genius. And you’d never considered him to be stupid.

“Hange, Hange, no, don’t! Hange, leave him alone! HANGE, STOP, LEAVE HIM!”

Well, can’t say you didn’t try. The moment you’d all eaten in the mess hall, Hange had made it their mission to find and interrogate the three new recruits, despite your best efforts to try and talk them out of it. Even Moblit, ever supportive yet slightly apprehensive Moblit, tried talking them out of this one. But it seemed nothing, nothing was going to stop them. Especially when they saw the three of them in the courtyard. Taking off at an immediate sprint, you struggled to see what they’d spotted through all the fucking dust they’d kicked up. But the moment you realised, you were hot on their heels.

“HE’S NOT AN EXPERIMENT, HANGE, LEAVE HIM ALONE!” You shouted behind them, racing to catch up before they got themselves beaten to death by a 3ft imp of a man. You could hear the footsteps of your friends behind you, they, too, now racing across the courtyard to stop the scientist in their excited frenzy.

You wished you could have run faster, engaged some kind of speed boost that Hange was able to do when fueled by the prospect of a new discovery, but alas it was too late by the time you joined the four of them. “Since fucking when could you run that fast?” You grumbled to yourself, before turning to the other three and surveying a smorgasbord of emotions.

Farlan looked apprehensive, almost worried for Hange rather than himself. Isabel looked almost protective, like she was ready to jump to his defence at a moment's notice. Sweet. And Levi looked as if Hange had just claimed to be the King. It was a nice change to see another emotion on his face other than passive malcontent, even if this was pure and utter shock.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” You hissed, elbowing Hange in the ribs to finally get their attention just as Nifa and Moblit finally joined you. “Did you kill his fucking dog or something?”

“What? No! I just said that what he did was incredible and that I boiled over with excitement!”

You stared at them. Blankly. In stupor. How… how could they possibly think that was an okay thing to say? In your bafflement, you almost didn’t hear Levi’s surprising gratitude.

“...Thanks.”

You looked between them, almost pitying the man for engaging with them when they’re excited. It was hilarious to watch, but significantly less hilarious to be a part of. And you were absolutely not about to get involved.

“I need a fucking drink.”

Turning away from the conversation, you left them to it. And though you felt that familiar tickle at the back of your head, you didn’t turn back. Besides, everyone would likely be turning in soon. Early evening was the favoured time of day for the Scouts. No training, no responsibilities, you could just drink and relax as though relaxing was still possible for you all.

“Oh hey, I was talking to Miche and he mentioned heading to Dickie’s tonight, wanna join?”

Though you may have mentioned wanting a drink, the thought of socialising in a tavern drained your soul.

“Actually, nah, thanks, I’m good. You guys go ahead though.” Waving them off, you turned on your heel. It had been… a day, to say the least. And you hadn’t stopped thinking about Ilse since this morning. With a resigned sigh, you acknowledged the extremely likely possibility that this was going to be one of those spiralling nights.

Paying no mind to the concerned looks from your friends, you left them in search of some form of alcohol, before falling into the inevitable.

The sun was kissing the horizon when you finally settled on the rooftop, contraband whiskey in hand, swigging from the tan bottle. It was old now, this specific bottle. And since you’d already given her bed away, you might as well finish off her drink too.

Nanaba was right. Ilse was gone. And nothing was going to bring her back. You’d spent the last three years of your life being dragged down by the weight of her death. Grief your soulmate, bound together in rain. Shackles around your wrists locked by guilt, freedom’s key six feet under.

You’d waited. Oh how you’d waited for her return. Her cocky grin, freckles and mud splatters indistinguishable from each other. Each night spent staring out the window, each day spent training for a recovery mission that was never approved. Money spent on ink, ink spent on letters to Command, tears spent on rejection. You wanted to make it right, so you’d punished yourself for years. Thinking about her was torture, so no second of the day was spent without her on your mind. Your sole motivation was finding her.

You huffed a humourless chuckle, only now realising you’d been crying when a gentle breeze dried salt to your cheeks. You knew it was her. It was always her. Caressing your tears, easing your pain.

But where were you when she needed her tears wiped? Where were you when she needed to be held?

Raising your gaze from the wall you were sitting on. You had a clear view over the wall from up here, watching the sun find solace in its lover’s dusk embrace.

“Meet me under the fig tree when we get back. There’s something I want to tell you.”

Ever the romantic, she was. Ilse was the reason you fell in love with romance literature, because you swore she got half her ideas from those novels. Not that you could blame her. They were pretty good.

“Late night musings?”

You weren’t really shocked he was in the same place at the same time. You’d known the man for a while now, which meant you knew where he went to clear his head.

“Something like that, yeah,” you responded, inspecting how much liquor was left in your bottle as your captain approached. “You?”

“Being in constant meetings makes me long for fresh air.”

You chuckled, sliding your gaze to Erwin now next to you. It was irritating how tall he was. Even sitting on a wall, he still towered over you. Ridiculous.

You fell into a tangible silence, thoughts of Ilse fading ever so slightly as you thought of all the questions you had for him about today. About the newcomers. You were glad he could read you well enough.

“Ask.”

“They’re talented. Incredibly so, especially Levi,” you paused, searching for some kind of explanation of his face. But, as per usual, he offered nothing.

“Go on…”

You sighed. “Then why assign them to Flagon of all people? They could have been a huge asset to our squad. Assigning them to Flagon seems like a waste to me.”

Erwin hummed in contemplation, but you knew it was for your own benefit. He had his answer already, he just wanted you to think he was taking your words into consideration. Conversational politics bullshit.

“So observant yet so blind. Forcing them to join was a risk in and of itself. Shadis is losing his touch–”

“We’ve known that for a while,”

“And who will be made Commander after him?”

You rolled your eyes. Everyone and their dog knew Erwin was going to be the next Commander. All you had to do was wait for Shadis to either die or realise he wasn’t special and retire. But you nodded in understanding. Now it made sense.

“You really think they’d make a move on you for being next in line for Command? I don’t think they care that much.”

“Being Commander isn’t just about leading the Scouts. It’s politics. It’s having leverage in the right places. It’s weeding out corruption and inspiring hope.”

You set the bottle down next to you before throwing up your hands in frustration. “You know I hate it when you talk in riddles.”

He huffed a bassy laugh, clearly finding amusement in your confusion. You weren’t ever cut out for politics. Strategy, you could do. Killing Titans, you could do. But politics? Oh no, you weren’t brave enough for politics.

“You’ll realise soon enough.” he mused, before eyeing the half empty bottle next to you. “Commemorating?”

You scoffed. “Hardly. Just… thinking.”

“Don’t ‘think’ too hard then. I’ll need you tomorrow. We’re going over plans for the up and coming expedition and I want you to be there.”

You blinked at him, raising a suspicious brow. “Me? Why…?”

Erwin sighed, turning to face the scenery rather than you. A pit of dread opened in your gut as you realised what he was about to tell you. And you already had your answer.

“When I’m–”

“No.” You responded instantly, your jaw tensing. You knew he knew. You knew he knew why, though you found yourself unsurprised that he was still asking.

He tried to reason, barely able to say your name before you interrupted him again.

“I can’t. You know I can’t. Make Hange a Captain. Make Moblit a Captain. Fuck, make Nifa a Captain. I can barely be a Second, let alone take on that kind of responsibility. Anyone else. Give it to literally anyone else. Just… don’t give it to me.” you sounded weaker than you meant to, weaker than you wanted to. Almost pleading with him. You’d known Erwin for years now. He was only two years ahead of you in the Cadets. But knowing him also meant knowing that, if he thought you were good enough, it didn’t matter how much you didn’t want it.

It didn’t matter what you wanted full stop.

“You’re the best candidate to fill the shoes of Captain of this squad.”

“You don’t know that.”

Erwin rested a hand on your shoulder, squeezing slightly in what you knew he thought was comfort. But in reality, it only served to make you feel worse. You were disappointing him, you knew that. But you couldn’t. “What happened three years ago wasn’t your fault.”

You grit your teeth, bringing your knees up to your chest whilst fighting back that tidal wave of grief with sheer willpower. “You don’t know that, either.”

With a heavy sigh, his hand left your shoulder. “You need to let go of that guilt. If we let it consume us, we’ll never take the next step in this fight. Think it over.”

You knew. You knew that. You knew you needed to let her go. Because holding on was killing you. But you said nothing as his footsteps became nothing but an echo down stone steps.

Once again a gentle breeze enveloped you, ruffling loose strands of your hair, pushing them from your face as you picked up the bottle again.

“He wants me to be a Captain, Ils. I… I don’t think I can do that. I got you killed. I– that was a choice I made. To leave you behind. We could have been all poetic and shit and died together, side by side. Fighting to the end.

“And I took that from us. I took that from you,” you let your tears flow freely, no breeze strong enough to dry them this time. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Wrapping your arms around your legs, you cradled yourself on the rooftop, rhythmic gusts keeping you company in the otherwise clear night.

“I need you to help me move on. I… I tried today, I really did. Giving that kid your bed… But Nanaba called me out on what it really was. I don’t know how I’m supposed to forget you and carry your legacy at the same time. It fucking hurts,” you sobbed, clutching at your chest. Grief wracked your ribs until your throat was sore and your head was pounding and you could cry no more. Only micromovements in your shoulders gave away empty sobs.

“You were my purpose…” you whispered to the wind, once again raising your head to the horizon. “What do I do now..?”

You went to take another swig of your bottle, but stopped as the wind changed. It was no longer blowing toward you, but rather toward the landscape and beyond. Taking a moment to look, really look at the moonlit washed fields and hills beyond, and even further to your future, you smiled slightly.

It was always her. And will always be her.

With a lighter heart and a clearer mind, you took the bottle and tipped the contents into the wind.

“One last drink. For old times sake.”

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