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heavenlyakin · 6 days ago

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the one with the hook up

togame jo x fem!reader, 2074 words

college au set in the US, selfship coded, reader has a named friend, reader flushes, the reader has red hair, reader is American, mild smut, unexpected pregnancy. unedited.

This might become a mini-series who knows!

–

Your best friend sighs as you walk the street, right towards the food stall you visited just a few hours ago. You ignore her and continue down the path, patiently wading around people lined up for other stalls. The summer sun is high in the sky, keeping you a bit overly warm, but perhaps it’s something else that’s causing the flush on your cheeks.

“Come on,” Kaya whines. “There’s so much more to see here,” she continues.

“I’m just feeling snacky,” you tell her. “Go on, I’ll meet you at the floating lanterns later. Don’t let me keep ya.”

“Snacky?” She frowns, knowing better. If anyone knows you better than you know yourself, it’s her. “Fine, just meet me at 9.”

You check your phone and see that it's two and a half hours from now. “See ya then. By the docks?” She nods then waves as she heads in the opposite direction.

You turn, your feet a bit sore from the straps on your sandals, but you ignore it to keep going down the path. You find the dango booth, noting it’s still the same two employees, a girl with dark brown hair styled into a bun with the booth’s branded cap and then the tall man with a dark braid under his cap and glasses.

He looks up as you step in line, but you turn your eyes to the ground, noticing the pedicure you got last week is beginning to chip. The pink nail polish is patchy on the ends of the nails. When it’s your turn you step up and smile at him.

His eyebrow raises in interest and you can’t help but smile wider. His round glasses are halfway down his nose, his green eyes looking at you like he sees what you’re thinking.

“One order please,” you tell him.

“Weren’t you here earlier?” He asks, preparing the food for you.

You shrug. “It’s my favorite street food.”

“Well, here you go,” he hands you the small paper tray with the two sticks of dango on it.

As you take it, your fingers graze his and you feel the warmth intensify on your cheeks. You thank him then rush off, too nervous to tell him anything more. Something about the way he looked at you unnerved you from your previous plans to ask him how long he was working.

The festival is really busy now that the sun is lowering in the sky and the breeze is cooling off the day. You stop at a few booths and buy some trinkets for your friends and family. As you’re examining one of the games a few children are playing with a pool of water and some ducks, you feel a presence behind you.

“Hey, if you’re gonna try and scare me at least be quiet about-“ you turn and see it’s not your best friend, but instead the guy from the food stall. “Oh!”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you.” He smirks at your surprised face. “Unless, you’re into that?”

Your eyes widen and you laugh, “oh, and if I were?”

As you say it, you realize how much taller he is than you. With a booth between you it’s harder to gauge, but as he’s only a few inches away now, you might be able to get on your tiptoes and be just tall enough to meet his lips.

“I guess I’d have to find ways to keep you on your toes,” he says as if he knows what you’re thinking.

You laugh, brushing your hair from your eyes. “How’d you get out of work?”

“Oh, you came at the end of my shift. I swapped out for another.” He shrugs, his hands moving to his pockets. “I’m glad you came by twice.”

“Oh,” you flush. “I just really like dango. We don’t have it at home.”

“Ah,” he nods in understanding. “Well, I better let you go then. Sorry to have startled you.”

You feel disappointment in your chest. “Oh, well have a good evening. Nice meeting you, uh-”

“Togame. Togame Jo.” He smiles and you tell him your name. “Pretty,” he comments before walking away.

You text Kaya, telling her you need to meet her sooner, wanting to gush about Togame. It’s unlikely you’ll see him again, given you’re only here for another week before going back to school. You have so much to see in town with Kaya during this festival that you doubt you’ll be back to his stand.

–

Biting the eraser of your pencil, you look up to take the next note from the new slide your professor just flipped to. When you release your pencil from your mouth, the door beside the projection board flings open. A student, well you assume they’re a student, walks in. Their hood is up, so you can’t see who it is.

“Late,” the professor says casually. “And on your first day.” He adds as a subtly insult.

You can’t help but grin. It is a little funny to come in so late and sit down without a single apology. They pull their hood down and you feel like you recognize the hair style, but you’ve been to a class already today, so you assume it’s someone from earlier.

When he turns around, you notice the round glasses and realize it’s the guy from the festival three weeks ago. He asks the person behind him for something, a pencil you realize as he’s handed one. He has a coffee in his other hand, something you hadn’t noticed before.

Late and without supplies, but time enough to grab a coffee.

You turn your attention back to the slide show as the professor talks. However, you can’t help but let your eyes and thoughts linger away from Religion 101 to the familiar face across the lecture hall. It becomes hard to focus.

The professor doesn’t stop dragging on about the syllabus and the basics of the most popular religions, something you honestly don’t care much about. You just needed the gen ed credits. Luckily, the slideshow ends twenty minutes before the class time ends, and the professor lets you go. You pack up your notes and supplies and shove them into your tote bag before standing to leave.

There’s a cluster at the door, making it hard to get through at first. But after a few moments you’re in the crowded hallway making your way towards the exit a few yards away. Someone taps your shoulder so you stop, turning to see who it is.

“Uh, hi!” The boy with round glasses smiles at you with a flush across the bridge of his nose.

“Hi,” you smile, stepping closer to the wall to get out of the way of people heading to and from class. “Can I help you?”

“I remember you,” he says. “Your hair, and now your eyes. We met a few weeks ago.”

“Jo, right?” You ask knowing your right, but not wanting to sound creepier than you already feel. He nods. “Weird you remember me but not what time class starts.”

“Oh, well, I-“ he stutters a few words out but you can’t make sense of them. “I forgot to set my alarm again. Can I blame, uh, what’s that thing you get when you travel over time zones?”

“Jet lag,” you laugh. “But you had time to get a coffee.”

“Jeez,” he holds it up in defense. “What’s with the fifth degree?”

You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know, it’s just funny to me is all.”

He grins, something on his face delighted with what you just said. “Have any more classes today?”

“Of course,” you giggle. “It’s only,” you check the time on your phone. “9:48, so I have time to get a coffee then get to my next class. You?”

“Yeah, I have math next, then I’m done. Have any lunch plans?”

“I don’t,” you totally do, but you’re sure Kaya won’t mind if you cancel. “Why?”

“Maybe I could fill that time then? I heard about a really good Thai food place a block away. We could go.”

“That sounds nice,” you grin. “I have to go now though or I’ll risk not getting a coffee and being late too.”

“You better go, or else my laziness might catch up with you,” he teases and waves bye as you go.

–

You’re not really sure how it happened. One minute you’re ordering pad thai, the next, you’re on top of Jo on his bed.

His lips taste sweet from the sauce he had with his food. His body underneath yours feels hard and firm, and god you can’t think about how hard he is against your lower stomach. However, you do think about it. Every little movement of your body makes you think about it. You’re pretty sure you’ve never felt desire this quickly, but something about him is driving you crazy.

His fingers kneed into your ass as you grind on him once, then twice. Fuck, you’re sure you’re going to soak through your panties and onto him at this rate. His lips move from yours to your jaw, slowly but steadily kissing and teasing the skin with his teeth. You toss your head back, giving him access to your neck.

His right hand moves from your ass around to the front of your pants, fooling around for the waistband of your leggings. He finally gets his hand between you and the fabric, the tips of his fingers teasing your lips before finding your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan tilting your head back down and your cheek rubs against his. He chuckles as his fingers move.

He pulls his hand out of your leggings and you frown at him. He laughs, mumbling something about wanting to get you out of these clothes but your ears are too occupied with the sound of your own heartbeat to be sure.

However, within a few minutes you’re completely undressed and sinking down onto his cock, your eyes watering as you take in his size. His hands on your hips become apparent as he draws small circles on your skin with his thumbs, comforting you as you breathe through the first few motions.

It’s not long before he’s flipping you over and making you cum twice, outdoing all of your past partners with one single session. By the time it’s over, you’re completely out of breath and snuggled up to him laughing about something silly he said when he offered you water.

“Do you have dinner plans?” He asks a bit later after you’ve laid in silence and the warmth of one another.

“Um,” you pause remembering the date. “No, my roommate will probably be with her girlfriend, so I’m all free.”

“Well, if thai makes you horny, what does pizza make you?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Shut up,” he kisses you before you get the sound of the p out.

–

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” you tell Kaya as you pace the bathroom of your shared apartment.

“Calm down, it’s probably a false alarm.” She goes back to filing her nails. “No one gets pregnant from one hook up.”

“Let me call MTV and tell them that. It’s not like they’ve built an entire industry on this situation but in high schools.” She makes a face at you and laughs.

“Just don’t panic unless there’s a reason to panic.” She sighs, looking over at the pregnancy test, but you know it still has another minute and seventeen seconds left before it’ll tell you.

“This feels like a cruel joke,” you lean against the counter, looking up at the popcorn ceiling. “I haven’t gotten laid in over a year and the first time I do I get knocked up.”

“At least it’s not an STD.” She laughs and you flip her off. You look over and see something has appeared on the screen of the test.

“God, you do it. But Don’t do that thing Phoebe does in Friends to Rachel, just tell me if I’m pregnant or not. No joking around. Just hit me.”

Kaya picks up the test, looks at it and back to you, a grin on her face. But not one you know. This is disbelief.

“Well, fertile myrtle, you’re knocked up.” She hands you the test, and clear as day, it says pregnant.

“Fuck,” is all you can say after ten minutes of staring at the test.

#tw pregnancy #togame jo x reader #jo togame x reader #togame jo smut

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scribbly-artist · 7 months ago

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So You Can Laugh

Summary: Nathan and Kathleen have been together for quite a while now, but Nathan has never seen Kathleen let loose and laugh, let alone smile often. He wants to see his love smile, so he wants to achieve this in any way he can.

Words: ~2,700 | AO3 Link

Author’s Notes: After owning this side account for god knows how long and being extremely nervous to even make tickle content, let alone post it, I present to you this fic I made. Originally written for my OCs, I swapped the names for dummies and edited a few details so it makes sense.

I’m not the best writer, it’s been quite a long time since I’ve written for myself in general. I apologise if anything is written strangely. But I hope you enjoy this little piece of pure self indulgence from me. :) Please let me know what you think. Who knows, I might write some content for fandoms I’m interested in if I feel up to it. Or I might go straight back to lurking, lol.

“Is it too tight, honey?”

“No, it’s okay. Nice and soft, too.”

***

Now that both Nathan and Kathleen have calmed down from their rather dangerous lives, they finally confessed their love for each other and are now an item. After everything was over and the dust settled, they moved in with each other. To no longer having anyone interfere with their personal business and to unwind has helped them both immensely. Now that they don’t have the suffocation of eyes and rules upon them, their love for each other could finally blossom. They cared for each other deeply.

As days go by, Nathan started to notice a few things about Kathleen. One major issue in his mind is Kathleen’s inability to let loose.

She’s always been such a stoic person, that’s just in her nature. Now that they were together all day, she was smiling much more often. However, he wanted to hear the beautiful sing-song of her laugh. It was definitely a rare treat for him, and didn’t come often.

When she laughed, it filled his heart with so much love for her. The way her eyes crinkled with joy, how her cheeks flushed, and how if something was particularly amusing, she’d squeak.

But this was a rare sight to behold, and Nathan had been longing for it. He’d crack jokes, tell funny stories, pop on her favourite shows. Sometimes she’d laugh and let herself be free. Most times when she found something funny, what came out of her was more of an amused exhale from her nose than a laugh.

He needed more of her unfiltered laughter, he craved it.

One day when he was trying to get her to laugh, he had exhausted all of his options. He told so many funny moments of his past, as many funny jokes as he read from his joke book. He even reminisced some of the funny challenges they both faced when they had to hide their feelings for each other from everyone else. But she could only give him a smile.

“C’mon, Kath, you’re killing me here.”

She merely shook her head. “You’ll have to try harder than that, hun.”

His cheeks flushed just slightly at the affectionate nickname, but his eyebrow raised with a smirk. “Is that a challenge? You of all people should know not to do that.”

“Try me,” she gave a wink. “Give it your best shot.” She grabbed a book from the coffee table as she stretched in her seat, making herself much more comfortable on the couch, Nathan standing somewhat over her. She buried her nose in her book.

He wracked his brain for options. He was all out of his usual tactics, so he scanned his mind for moments when Kathleen had laughed in the past and see what stuck out. Way back when, she would give the odd smile, and dare he say, giggle, when he was in close proximity to her. She was always rather ‘giddy nervous’ around him, trying to hide her true feelings. He tended to up his charm just so she could cutely smile and blush. Now that he was thinking about it, one thing in particular was sticking out to him.

When his hand had gently brushed past her side.

He remembered that day very clearly. It was shortly after they had started dating. Kathleen was standing in the kitchen, busy cooking something. Nathan, the charmer he is, snuck up and gave her a hug while she was preoccupied, not knowing he was even in the room. He snaked his arms around her waist and wrapped them around her stomach. This motion, as well as not being on guard, caught her by surprise. She squeaked at the sudden contact, spinning right around with a bright blush on her face, holding his wrists in her hands.

“Hey! B-Be careful!” She gave him a playful glare, pouting at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m just a bit sensitive, is all…”

“Is that so?” He grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

And he definitely did. If this were an illustration, he’d have a light bulb above his head right about now.

‘Sensitive’? More like ‘ticklish’. Why didn’t he try this before? He guessed that someone like her couldn’t really be ticklish. With how she made herself seem so tough, that wasn’t even something that came to mind. But she has softened up since they made everything official, she’s kind of like a cat. She’d snuggle up to him, appreciate holding hands and loving touches. She was just really good at hiding her ticklishness.

And he wasn’t going to let her do it any longer.

While Kathleen was nose-in her book, Nathan reached down and gave her a bit of a poke. She paused, eyes wandering up to him.

“What’re you doing?”

“Just testing something.” He gave her another poke, this time in the ribs. She flinched, her arm pressing against her side, protecting herself. Her cheeks started to flush.

“Yeah, no.” She puffed out her cheeks.

Nathan continued to try, giving her random pokes here and there, nearly making Kathleen drop her book. But she steeled herself, taking a long, deep breath. It was easy to control herself by squeezing her arms against her body.

“God, you’re a hard nut to crack, woman!” Nathan let out his mild irritation. He just wanted to hear her laugh. She let out an amused exhale from her nose once again. She knew what he was up to.

“Sorry, it’s just funny watching you try so hard.” She smirked. His face flushed. If only she wasn’t blocking his attempts, maybe she’d laugh.

***

Which now brings them to this point. Earlier in the week, Nathan had tried again and again to try to tickle her, but she wouldn’t laugh. So, Nathan wondered if he could get her to laugh, only if Kathleen was restrained. He had asked her if he was allowed to test this, and he was surprised when she gave him her consent. She did feel a little bad that he was trying to hard, she knew where he was coming from. So, to give him that little bit of joy, she gave him a chance.

Nathan had ordered some fuzzy cuffs online and had shown Kathleen when they arrived. She was a bit reluctant at the sight of them, but he assured her it would be a-okay. They discussed a safe word and general procedure for after everything was over. They proceeded to the bedroom.

“I am a bit nervous… but I trust you.” She gave her wrist a slight tug, she was strapped in tight. Nathan fastened the last cuff at her right ankle, shuffling on the bed.

“I just want you to let loose and laugh, love. And you make it very hard with you blocking everything, so I figure this’ll work out a lot better,” He climbed on top of her, taking a seat on her thighs, pulling his knees against her legs so she was locked in just that little bit tighter. “And I’m happy to have some reassurance that you won’t accidentally punch my teeth out.” He let out a nervous chuckle.

“I’m a dangerous woman, you know…” Giving him a sly grin, she looked into his eyes. He looked back at her, smirking. A fuzzy feeling was growing in her stomach. Was this butterflies?

“Now, you let me know when you’re feeling overwhelmed. Say the word, and I’ll stop.” His hand gravitated towards her face, cupping her cheek in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes, her cheeks growing red.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She nodded. Her cheeks seemed to get just a tad bit more red with her response.

“Good, I’ll start.” He grinned, averting his eyes from her face. He looked down at her body, where should he begin? Her sides seemed to make her squirm when he poked them, so that’s a good place of a place to start than any.

He reached down, and gently started to skitter his fingers against her skin. Kathleen let out a gasp, biting down on her lip. Her reflex was to bring her arms down at the soft touch, but the restraints worked against her, holding her wrists fast. He was going awfully slow, which was starting to drive her crazy. But she was silent.

“C’mon, Kath.” His voice lowered as he smirked, tracing random patterns into her sides. A quiet squeak escaped her at the loving nickname. “Don’t hold out on me now. You can let it out.”

“I-I’m… I’m not going down that… e-easily…” She drawled, trying to keep her voice under control. It was super hard to concentrate when your beautiful partner was giving such a charming and slightly devilish smile down on you while pushing your buttons. It didn’t help that she was extremely stubborn. He knew this too well. “Do y-your worst…”

“Then I guess you’ve forced my hand…” He spoke as if it pained him, but it was quite the opposite. He was giddy with delight. He sped up his fingers, scratching with more intent.

Kathleen only bit her lip harder, her head shaking to the side, her eyes closed tight. Nathan merely tutted at her resistance. “Maybe somewhere else might work better…” He mumbled, studying her face.

His annoying, persistent scribbly hands moved up to her underarms. Her short sleeved shirt gave her no protection. Her arms began to tremble. How she wished she could pull them down right now. But she didn’t give in, she didn’t laugh.

“You’re a tough cookie, though I expected as much.” He mused, chuckling. “Keeping it all inside isn’t going to help you. You’ll spill over eventually. And then you’ll be laughing your pretty little head off.”

Her cheeks burned at his teasing. “S-Shut up…!” This was all she could muster, her concentration one-hundred percent focused on not letting a single laugh out. He was fine with playing the long game.

“Oh, am I getting to you? Did a hit a nerve?” His grin turned devilish, his hands moving to prod at her ribs. His nimble fingers tweaked at them, driving her up the wall. “Does teasing you like this make it all the more harder to keep it all in?” He added a teasing lilt to his voice as he targeted the space between her ribs.

She shook her head once again, trying very hard to hide her face in the pillow. He tutted.

“Ah ah ah, you’re doing none of that.” One of his hands moved from her ribs to the side of her neck, giving it an extremely light scribble. She squeaked as she scrunched up her shoulders. Targeting two spots at once made everything much, much worse.

“Sh… shut the h-hehehehell uhuhuhup…!” She growled. Finally, some giggles were slipping through the cracks.

“Hey, that’s not very nice…” He frowned, but it turned back into a smile just as quickly. “I should teach you some manners, little lady.” Both of his hands shifted to her stomach, resting upon it. She caught some of her breath back as he paused, her stomach filled with nervous energy.

“Don’t… don’t you dare…” She warned, giving him a burning look. She didn’t really mean it, though. When she tried to look scary, it just made her look cute in his eyes.

“You haven’t told me to stop yet…” He spoke his thoughts aloud, giving a small smile as he studied her face. “I thought you would have, I didn’t think you’d let me do this for this long. Maybe… you like it?” He pondered, his eyebrows wiggling up and down.

Her whole face turned red.

“No, I-I don’t! Stop talking…!” However, her face betrayed her. He could only laugh at her response. She glared up at him, then pouted. “…Maybe a little…” She admitted.

“You’re absolutely adorable, you know that?” He could only smile at her, his heart so full for his partner. But he couldn’t forget his goal.

“Now! It’s time to get you really laughing, love.” His hands that were resting on her stomach whirred back to life at his words. He wanted to go for the kill, so he started rolling up her shirt, revealing her stomach underneath. She tried to protest, but she couldn’t form proper words. He placed a hand on her bare stomach. He noticed she was developing quite a bit of a belly.

He gave her stomach a gentle pinch, cooing. “Aww, look at you. You’re getting all pudgy and soft.” He grabbed at her a little more. His touch wasn’t meant to be tickly on purpose, but she was far too sensitive. The awful teasing didn’t help. He continued to grab, grab, grab, both of his hands gently pinching.

This made her break.

“Shihihihit—“ She couldn’t even hold back her giggles anymore. Her walls were broken down, and all she could do was laugh and squirm, shaking her head profusely. Not being able to protect herself was driving her insane. She couldn’t bring her arms down or curl up on herself, and it made her all the more ticklish.

“Isn’t it good to laugh?” He was laughing quietly alongside her, it was a bit contagious since he had never seen her like this before. Even his cheeks were burning a bit red. He skittered his fingers upon her skin, making sure to leave no part of her ticklish skin untouched. Her eyes were shut tight, he could see there was a slight dampness at the corner of her eyes. At some points his touch would become a little rougher just to hear her squeak in surprise.

An idea popped into his mind, forming a sly smirk on his lips. “Hmm… I think I could get you to laugh louder…” Still tickling her with his hands, he shifted his weight so that he could lower his head down to her stomach. Kathleen opened one of her eyes, both of them shooting open as she realised what he was doing.

“Nathan!! Don’t y-you freaking dare…!” She threatened, but that certainly wasn’t stopping him.

“You know what to do to make me stop.” He flashed an evil smile as he buried his face in her belly. He gave her stomach loving, tender kisses as his hands continued to work. His scruff on his chin really, really didn’t help her from not going absolutely insane from the ticklish feeling. She burst out in loud belly laughter, starting to thrash.

“AAAAHAHAHA!!” She threw her head back into the pillow. All she could do was laugh. She couldn’t think straight anymore. All she could think about was how much it tickled. Her nerves were set alight. He laughed along with her, struggling to continue his trail of loving kisses from his own snickering.

“Doesn’t that feel better? Letting it aaaaaall out?” He asked between kisses. He even blew a raspberry or two to keep her guessing. His fingers scribbled up and down her sides and stomach. He was basking in her laughter, his heart full with love. She was loving it as well, though would rather die than admit it. However, she was hitting a breaking point, her voice growing hoarse and her red face damp with tears.

“RED— HAHAHA!! REHEHED LIGHT!” She gasped out between her frantic laughter.

It ended as soon as it started. Once those words left her lips, Nathan immediately stopped, giving her stomach a pat with his hand.

“I’ve got to admit, you lasted a lot longer than I thought.” He beamed down at her, shifting on the bed so he could get up. He made fast work of loosening her restraints, taking them off of her tired limbs. She curled up on herself once she was let loose, rolling over onto her side. Her breathing was heavy after the brutal lung workout.

He chuckled, climbing back onto the bed to cuddle up to her. “Did you like it?” He questioned, planting his chin on her shoulder, taking in her scent that comforted him.

“…Yes…” She admitted, hiding her face with her hand, not daring to glance over and look at him. She was exhausted, but her heart was fluttering.

“We’ll have to do it again some time. Your laughter is like beautiful music. You should do it mo— haha, hey!” He laughed as she elbowed him in the ribs, rolling over to face him.

“You should really have a taste of your own medicine.” She stated as her hands reached out to his torso, giving him quick scribbles and pokes. He couldn’t help himself as he laughed, but he was quick to grab her eager hands by the wrists to get her to stop.

“Heheheh! Look, you can get your revenge another time,” He let go of one of her wrists, his hand settling under her chin. “But right now, I just want to lay here with you.” He leaned in, giving her a passionate kiss on her lips, his heart swelling. She reciprocated, her hand moving up to the back of his neck, burying her hand in his hair.

“I’m happy with that.”

#my writing #tickle fluff #tickling #tickle content #tickle fic #oc tickling #tickling community #tickle community #scribbly-artist #fluffy tickles #my fic

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whatacaitastrophe · 9 months ago

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Everything Has Changed - Chapter 8

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Bad Habits" - Ed Sheeran ft. Bring Me The Horizon

Chapter Warnings: alcohol consumption, blood drinking, EXTREMELY miled dub!con (both parties are drunk)

Spotify Playlist: Here

Author Notes: Thank you all so much for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting on this fic (and the first one)! If you are interested in supporting me in other ways, I have a Ko-Fi link. ya girl has been behind on bills for two months and i've got a dog to feed, and every little bit helps <3

i also have a discord server! it was created to coincide with my twitch channel but you do NOT need to follow/subscribe/watch my twitch streams to come hang out with us <3 we talk a lot about bg3 and share memes and fics.

Chapter 8: My Bad Habits Lead to You

The streets of Daggerford were bustling in the late afternoon light, and Fallon could feel the sense of calm that came from being in a crowd rush over her as she walked with Gale. It was a small town to be sure, but after seeing no one other than Astarion, Gale, and the occasional passing traveler for nearly a month even the small crowd was a welcome sight. Fallon preferred to be in crowds of people for a number of reasons, and all of her reasons pretty much directly contradicted each other. Fallon preferred populated areas because nobody was sticking their noses in other peoples’ business. She could blend in with the crowd and be completely anonymous, if she wanted to be. People were often so engrossed in themselves that they didn’t notice what wasn’t directly invading their space.

On the other side of the coin, Fallon liked living in populated areas because it felt safer. One would think that based on the idea of blending in with the crowd and the anonymity large groups afforded a single person, it would be more dangerous because nobody was paying attention, but people paid attention when something was out of the ordinary. A woman screaming because somebody stole her coin purse, or a man collapsing in the middle of the street? Those were abnormal occurrences that forced people to get out of their own heads and pay attention. Case in point: Fallon was certain the Szarlnaxi vampires would never have ambushed them in Daggerford, even in the middle of the night.

There was a bookshop across the street from the inn, and Fallon nudged Gale and nodded her head in that direction. “Maybe they’ll have some books on sorcery, or some magic scrolls you can use to re-teach yourself some spells.” She suggested. Fallon knew Gale was eager to get to Waterdeep so he could pour through his personal tomes, and take advantage of the wealth of knowledge likely waiting for him there. Maybe there would be something here in Daggerford that could give him a head start.

At the sight of the bookshop, Gale’s face brightened. “Have I mentioned recently how grateful I am to have you as a friend? Specifically, as the type of friend who is willing to spend time with me in a bookshop?”

Fallon chuckled as they began walking towards the shop. “You’re not the only person who likes to read, Gale.”

“Indeed. I seem to recall books being the first thing you and I bonded over.” Gale smiled.

Fallon was not nearly as hungry for knowledge as Gale, and she preferred works of fiction, but that was one of the great things about Gale. He loved reading for the purposes of learning something from a non-fiction book, but that didn’t mean he never picked up a novel, and Fallon learned early on in their friendship that he had read many of her favorites (including the romance novels).

Fallon smiled back at him, and nodded. “I need something new anyway. Astarion has been hogging the books I brought with us for himself.”

“I thought I saw him reading your favorite last week— the one about the boy at magic school.” Gale recalled, and Fallon stopped walking. It took Gale a moment to realize she was no longer by his side, but once he did he doubled back so he was standing in front of her.

“Fallon? Are you alright?”

“You— you remembered I like that book?” Surprise shone in her eyes as she stared at her ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t that she thought Gale wasn’t listening back then when she shared information about herself. Fallon just assumed he’d forgotten by now after being apart for so long, or that Mystra had somehow managed to take away his memories of Fallon, too (something Fallon had previously assumed to be unlikely, but that was before the goddess revoked Gale’s access to magic out of spite).

“I remember everything about you, Fallon.”

Fallon instantly recognized the soft look in Gale’s warm, brown eyes for what it was: adoration. It was a look she’d seen hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Even before they were romantically involved, Gale always looked at Fallon like he thought she hung the moon. Seeing that look on his face made her heart stutter in her chest, scaring her both because of how it made her feel, and how it likely meant Gale still felt.

Despite her fear, Fallon offered Gale a half-smile and stepped towards him. She reached out and took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “You’re a good friend, Gale.”

Gale smiled back at her. “Not half as good a friend as you’ve been to me, despite everything.”

The two of them stood in the middle of the street just staring at each other for a moment longer as Fallon’s mind reeled from the realization presented to her. This couldn’t be happening. She wouldn’t let it. She couldn’t. For so many reasons, she couldn’t. Gale and Fallon were snapped from their moment when a man pushing a cart knocked into Gale, pushing him towards Fallon as he passed by. “Stop standing in the middle of the bloody road!” The man shouted, and Fallon waved apologetically before looking back at Gale.

“We should get going.” She suggested, and Gale nodded, his face returned to its usual relaxed expression.

By the time Fallon and Gale returned to the inn, satchels full of books, scrolls, and potions, dusk had fallen, and Astarion was waiting for them in the tavern at the inn. “Gods, what took you so long? Did you buy the whole town?”

Astarion was dressed in clothes somewhat nicer than what he’d been traveling in thus far, and Fallon smiled as she took in how beautiful he was. Astarion truly was a work of art, and it was categorically unfair. “You look handsome.” She commented, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. Perhaps appealing to his vanity would soften his annoyance that they were gone all afternoon.

“We’re in a real town for the first time in weeks, the two of you will be able to have a meal not cooked over a fire, and we’ll all be able to indulge in alcohol we didn’t drag with us from Baldur’s Gate, or find in an abandoned building. Why not show the people of this little town what taste looks like,” Astarion mused, resting his hands on Fallon’s hips. He looked at Gale. “Though I’m sure there’s not anything wrong with your cooking, of course. No offense.”

Gale smiled and shook his head. “None taken. I too am looking forward to eating a meal not cooked by yours truly this evening.”

Fallon looked at Gale. “I feel like we’re a little underdressed, now, don’t you?”

“Indeed. Though admittedly I didn’t bring anything much nicer than this, given the circumstances with which I’m here in the first place.” Gale’s cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink.

“It’s alright, no one will be looking at you anyway, since Fallon will be with us.” Astarion complimented Fallon and her heart skipped a beat in her chest as he leaned down to kiss her softly. Fallon knew Astarion loved her, and believed her to be beautiful, but that didn’t mean she would ever tire of hearing him say it.

“You make a fair point. It is difficult to outshine her.” Gale agreed, clearing his throat slightly. Fallon pulled back from her embrace with Astarion and saw Gale awkwardly staring at the ground, still flushed.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you go find us a table while Gale and I go upstairs to put away our purchases and change into something a little more presentable?” Fallon suggested to Astarion, and her lover nodded.

“I’ll be waiting.” He agreed and kissed her a second time, deeper than the first kiss they shared. By the time they broke apart, Gale had already disappeared to return to his room, and Fallon hated the guilt that settled in her stomach once again.

Astarion was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Several weeks ago, Astarion warned Fallon that he did not believe Gale was as sorry for his actions as he claimed to be, or that Gale did not have ulterior motives for seeking Fallon’s forgiveness. After what happened with the Szarlnaxi vampires, and offering to let Astarion drink his blood, Astarion had begun to trust Gale a bit more, to believe that Gale truly only wanted forgiveness and to start over with Fallon as friends.

Then he saw the look on Gale’s face as the sorcerer agreed that Fallon’s beauty put himself and Astarion to shame. It was a look Astarion had seen on Gale’s face before: back when their roles were reversed and Gale was the one sharing Fallon’s bed while Astarion silently pined for the woman he thought would never be his. Whether Fallon was aware of it or not, Astarion couldn’t be sure, but now more than ever, Astarion was more than certain that Gale was very much still in love with her.

Astarion was going to get him to admit it, if only for the pure joy he would feel upon hearing he was right. Everything else that followed was secondary, and would be dealt with later. He wasn’t stupid, but he also wasn’t the type of person to plan things out terribly far in advance. For now, he just needed to make it through steps one and two:

One, he needed to get Gale drunk, and two, he needed to get Gale alone. Step two would be easy, as the only blood Astarion drank recently was from a boar they found between Dragonspear Castle and Daggerford the day before last.

It turned out that step one also ended up being easier than Astarion thought it would be. Between being so close to Waterdeep they could taste it, hot baths, hot meals, and the prospect of sleeping in real beds that evening, everyone was in good spirits. Fallon, especially, wanted to drink, and Astarion knew his lover well enough to know that when she was in the mood to celebrate, she wanted everyone else to be as drunk as she was.

By the time Astarion carried Fallon up to their room to put her in bed, Gale was right behind him, stumbling slightly to his own room for the evening. Astarion was tipsy, but alcohol never got him truly drunk anymore in the way that it did for Fallon and Gale. No, Astarion knew that as soon as he fed on Gale, that was when his own drunkenness would truly kick in: Drinking the blood of someone intoxicated had that effect on him.

Astarion pressed a kiss to Fallon’s forehead. “Wait up for me, darling, I’ll be back soon.” He requested, fully intent on spending the rest of his evening with Fallon wrapped in his arms and kissing her until they fell asleep after he was finished with Gale.

The door to Gale’s room was slightly ajar, and Astarion smirked. “Leaving your door open? That’s brave. Anyone could come in and have their way with you.” He teased.

Gale chuckled, his words starting to softly slur together. “If I didn’t know any better, Astarion, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

Yes, Gale was most definitely drunk enough that getting the information Astarion wanted would be easy. He stepped into Gale’s room and shut the door behind him. “What, I can’t be concerned for the well being of a friend?” Astarion pouted. Maybe he was flirting. After all, flirting used to work marvelously to get information he wanted out of people– who was to say it wouldn’t work on Gale?

Gale laughed again as he took a seat on his bed and began rolling up his sleeve so Astarion could access the same spot on his arm from the last time they did this. “Are we friends now, Astarion? I think you just admitted it.”

“I suppose we are, sorcerer. You’re much more fun now that you can do magic again.” He observed, striding over to the bed. He sat down next to Gale, and it felt weirdly more intimate than the first time they did this (even with Gale attempting to lay down last time). Maybe it was the fact that they were sitting on a bed.

Gale hummed happily at the mention of magic. “Yes, that was quite a marvelous discovery, wasn’t it? I suppose I never actually thanked you for that.”

“Trust me, you’ve thanked me enough by agreeing to let me drink your blood again,” Astarion pointed out. “I’m sure Fallon is certainly grateful to share the duties of keeping me fed with someone.” Astarion didn’t actually know if that was true or not, but for the purposes of getting Gale to talk, it was true enough for tonight. A slight pang of guilt settled in Astarion’s stomach for lying to Gale, but it was overruled by his need to be right.

Gale offered Astarion a dopey smile at the mention of the woman in the next room, and he sighed. “I just want to keep her safe. She deserves to be safe.”

Astarion nodded in agreement. “That she does,” he reached for Gale’s arm and pushed Gale’s sleeve up a little further, as it had slipped down slightly. “May I?”

He waited for Gale to nod, giving him consent before biting down on the same spot as before. Gale inhaled sharply when Astarion’s teeth broke the skin, and to Astarion’s surprise, the man kept talking. Perhaps to distract himself from the pain. “She loves you, you know. Deeply. I can see it on her face when she looks at you. You make her happy. I’m glad she found happiness, after everything I put her through.” Gale mused, and Astarion couldn’t help but smile against Gale’s skin as Gale’s blood poured into his mouth. It wasn’t a confession of love by any means, but it still pleased Astarion to hear Gale admit he knew Fallon was happy, and in a good place. Maybe he wouldn’t need to worry about Gale acting on his feelings for Fallon (if they existed), after all.

Gods, Gale’s blood tasted good. Still not as good as Fallon’s, just as Astarion had told her earlier in the day, but damn. He could taste all of the fine wine Gale had that evening clearly now, too, and Astarion could feel himself becoming more intoxicated with every mouthful.

Soon, Gale was tapping Astarion’s shoulder, and Astarion pulled away, raising his head and licking his lips as he went. He offered Gale the same dopey smile the other man had given him at the mention of Fallon’s name. “You really do taste exquisite, by the way,” Astarion offered. Yes, Astarion was definitely as drunk as Gale now. “I didn’t get to tell you when you asked last time– too distracted by the magic.”

To his surprise, Gale blushed. “Thank you, I suppose. I was curious,” Gale looked down at his arm, where blood was still slowly trickling from the wound Astarion created, and instead of wiping it away, he offered his arm back to Astarion. “Want to get the last bit? Might as well not let it go to waste.” The offer surprised Astarion, but he wasn’t really in a position to say no. Even when he was already drunk on Gale, his bloodlust would never allow him to decline one more taste (even if he could control himself from drinking Gale dry).

“Well, if you’re offering, who am I to say no?” Astarion reached for Gale’s arm again, and slowly licked away the trail of blood that had begun to run down Gale’s forearm. Astarion hadn’t expected the act to feel sensual, but it had. He also hadn’t expected Gale to let out a soft moan, but he had. Most of all, Astarion hadn’t expected the sound of Gale moaning to go straight to his cock, but it had.

When Astarion pulled away from Gale’s skin, he was grinning coyly at the sorcerer. “Why Gale, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked that, didn’t you?” Gale blushed deeper, and Astarion’s grin only widened. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, darling. I’m just surprised. I didn’t think I was…your type.”

“You’re everyone’s type, Astarion.” Gale laughed nervously. Even if Astarion hadn’t been flirting with Gale before, he certainly was now as Gale’s alcohol filled blood coursed through Astarion’s veins. Moreover, Gale was flirting back.

Maybe Gale was drunker than Astarion thought he was. Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe it was both. All of those things could be contributing to Gale’s lowered inhibitions, but Astarion couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The surprises continued as Gale reached forward and swiped his thumb over Astarion’s chin, wiping away the blood that had trickled out of Astarion’s mouth. Gale offered it back to Astarion in the form of pressing his thumb against the vampire’s lips. It was an action that rid Astarion’s mind of all thoughts of the woman in the next room, and how Gale felt about her. It was difficult to focus on anything, really, with the way Gale looked at him. Astarion greedily accepted Gale’s invitation and he took the sorcerer’s thumb in his mouth and sucked the blood away, refusing to break Gale’s intense eye contact.

When Astarion released Gale’s thumb, they were both breathing a little heavier as they stared at each other, the air so thick with tension it would have taken a sword to cut through it. Astarion’s eyes flickered to Gale’s mouth, and vice versa. Then, in tandem, the vampire and the sorcerer leaned forward to cup each other’s faces in their hands, and their mouths connected in a crushing kiss.

Chapter List

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #astarion #bg3 fanfic #female tav #gale x tav #astarion x tav #astarion x gale x tav #bloodweave #bloodweave x tav #bg3 fan fiction #bg3 fan fic #baldur's gate 3 fan fic #baldur's gate 3 fan fiction

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the-zapped-part-timer · 7 months ago

Text

Penn Zerothon Day 6

Flurgle Burgle🪐

My Ramblings: FINALLY! PROPER SCHOOL SCREEN TIME! We saw it very briefly with the That Purple Girl.

There's symbolism in the Trio's respective lunches: Boone's a fancy and has all he needs, Penn's a a damn mess and Sashi's has something she doesn't want and has to do with her brother.

I want branded Goodbye Pony merch. I want that lunchbox and another item I'll bring up later on. Who has it? We'll see.

Hmmm, jumpy Sashi hopped up on sugar. Wonder what that would look like. Poor Terry, being a school mascot is the most dangerous job.

Penn is just realizing that Sashi's kind of goes overboard as a sidekick... all the time? He's learning, he's figuring things out.

As I've brought the whole Space World inconsistency, Penn doesn't recognize the world. Maybe the episodes were supposed to be swapped or was just a slight oversight. Like I said, doesn't really matter that much. Just observation.

World takes place years after 2715, noted.

I've only had Flurgle for a day and a half. But anything happens to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself - Boone, probably.

Out of context, please!:

Penn speaking to Flurgle: Get out of here, you weird little space pig. Papa's got to go to work.

Boone: I know, and don't call me space pig.

Iconic Flurgle-Penn. Kind of terrifying to look at for so long.

Boone... why is he so mean to Sashi in this episode? I get he cares for Penn and the Flurgle but jeez, chillax.

Oh my god, Rippen is making fun of Penn for shitting in the bushes! Now, they're even. God, this show can be pretty funny. What's with prehensile noses this episode? Flurgle and the Shnurkons.

Boone, look, it is cute to catch all this on your futuristic flip-phone, but help with the mission! Penn has an excuse, you don't. I get it, Sashi shouldn't have shot her laser blaster in the ship, but she didn't mean for this to happen! Also people are going to die if you don't find those fuel crystals! You're all up in Penn's business but than you just pawn him off to Sashi because now he has "too much energy?" When he's on a leash!? Also they say "how can we win the mission without our hero!" So does Penn have to be the one to win? Answer: no... I'll bring it up where that does happen. That's a whole other can of worms!

The also iconic "Front Row Seat Quarrel." Never seen Larry get so heated about a subject or towards Rippen this much, or at all at this point. It's amazing, they should be allowed to both have more quarrels like this more often. Larry doesn't always have to be a happy-go-lucky yes-man to Rippen, he can have attitude just as much as him! Love the saltiness. Boone is thriving off the drama.

Subtle Wilhelm Scream!

Good that Boone does come around in the end, yes, she did a little oopsie, but it's ok, people screw up. I think, Boone severely overreacted to the situation. Very much like this conversation between the two, haven't had that yet. And we get the big reveal! Sashi's parents don't know she's a sidekick and think she works at Fish Stick on a Stick (the place Rippen and Larry go to zap). This does bring up a question though: she claims she's been training to be a sidekick for 13 years, that's how old she is in the show... how? Her parents didn't know about any of that. Also get confirmation that Boone's parents are part-timers.

"They can't be proud of what they don't know, so I have to be proud of myself. An today I'm not" An incredibly hard hitting line. Larry's just listening in... that would've been interesting if he brought that up in Sensitivity Training, it does come before The Kobayashis... so.

RIGHT THERE! Larry's strength is shown once again with that powerful kick! Even Boone points it out!

Rippen just pulling out a laser glock on some kids will never not be funny.

"Flurgle, come!" Are very dangerous words.

Rippen, why are you belittling her as a sidekick? The one you call "the competent one!" That was pointless.

Deus Ex Flurgle. Rippen trying Penn like a dog and even calling him a "bad hero!" Gold. Get his ankles, Penn!

We finally see Sashi's place! YAY! And her parents! Double yay! I may not know Star Trek but I do know George Takei when I hear him! Speaking of Penn and Boone being as Sashi's place, interesting how she reacts the next time they come over, very different tune.

The cake... I want it.

~The Characters~

Penn Zero: He flurgled and burgled it up at the club today! He was a free spirit! He shat in the bushes!

Boone Wiseman: Why was he so snappy? Like I said above, he was a bit out of character to me. I could be wrong, just why so aggressive towards her? She made a mistake, but it didn't hurt Penn... kinda? She didn't mean to.

Sashi Kobayashi: Another Sashi episode! Really wanted it to hit harder, but Boone kind of miffed it a bit to me. But overall, is it better than Chuckle City? I don't know.

Rippen: Got a little too cocky with Penn out of the way and look what happened, you still lost!

Larry: The Front Row Seat Quarrel™️ will be one of my favorite Larry scenes.

Dimension(s): Never watched Star Trek, so... space! It's out there!

Forms: Fine, I guess. Nothing really for me. Alien designs are good, Boone's murder mittens hand were interesting, and the Shnurkons overall are fun to look at.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Temple of the Porcelain God🚽

My Ramblings: Very unique episode, it's a sort of flashback-ish type with some flavor. I'm sure there's a term for it, I just can't think of it. Is it reverse chronology or inverted narrative? love how it's through the movie screen, because hey, this is a movie theater after all!

Lives in peril and a giant toilet monster trying to get them... unique to say the least. Showing a completed mission to teach a lesson, what lesson? We'll learn along the way!

Boone loves magazines! This time his mom made onto the cover of "Beef World Mag" for the third time in a row, good for her. We also see Boone's address, time to dox him (it's not real I tried looking):

278 North Street, Middleburg 110406. My guess? Either Florida or Virginia (because there are towns called Middleburg in each).

I'd enjoy watching a 7-hour Director's Cut of... whatever! Show me!

What an oddly specific black market, bathroom themed... anyways obviously inspired by Indiana Jones, which makes this so much funnier with the whip scene. If some of you don't know, Alfred Molina (Rippen's VA) was Satipo in the first film, the guy who also literally said: "Throw me the idol, I'll throw you the whip!" Iconic. Sam, Jared, I see you guys, good meta humor! Too bad the film didn't follow this scene, I know it wouldn't fit, but it's funny to think about. Someone should make this an animatic or redo that scene with this scene... if you get what I mean.

Also very interesting that Penn and co are returning the idol not STEALING IT. Hmmm.... very interesting choice. An upgrade to me over the film (I wasn't to fond of it, sorry).

Penn slight voice crack when he delivers: "Their whip doesn't even reach 16 feet." Is great, love it.

Such a gentlemen indeed, what a pussy Rippen is. Probably acted surprised because, it's Larry, nothing bad rarely happens to him, Rippen calls that out in this episode.

Get the iconic "Flip-flops are my thang" and see that's on the back of his shirt! Just for this episode, I think.

Penn has got some strong legs for him to catch and carry Boone while swing through the air. Look at his legs! They would snap like twigs! Glad that we're bring back man purses, yay!

How and when did Sashi get under the truck thing? Don't question it, she just is under it and as soon as Rippen sees her drop out from underneath with a screw, he knew it was all over.

Great little railway ride for all involved until Rippen just picks up Larry and chucks him Penn... with one hand! "How is it that you never get hurt?" Great question, Rip.

WILHELM SCREAM RIP EDITION! I'm assuming it's him.

Of course, the best exchange ever:

Larry: Don't worry, I'm okay! Rippen's soft body broke my fall.

Rippen: Can't some things be private?

Penn doesn't give to cents as to where Boone is, just the idol. Savage.

How does the Ominous Voice how warns Boone not to flush, know to call him Boone and not his zapped body's name? Maybe he heard Penn not caring about Boone?

Penn is still not over the fact that is indeed Boone's scream, did he just think it was a bit or something?

Penn is brave about just diving into an ancient toilet, everyone clap for him. No one else would. He's disgusting now.

Classic Indiana Jones hat grab but flip-flop addition.

I'm on Boone's side, paper comes over the top not out the bottom for your bottom... Penn, I'm sorry, buy your just wrong. Who ever sides with Penn, why!? Change your wicked ways (and have a nice day)! I'm just as passionate as Boone. I'm glad that Penn listened like a sane person.

My favorite part of that movie is the credits, everyone, clap for Phyllis! She worked her ass off!

So what did they do wrong? Nothing... yep! Best mission ever! Lesson is: help toilet.

Clap again for Phyllis for giving them real golden crowns! I'd sadly also probably melt it down for cash like Sashi. Love her reaction.

WENDY WISEMAN AND MR. WISEMAN CAMEO! Seriously, what's his name? Maybe I'll call him... Wesley. Also, take back the clapping, Phyllis committed the most heinous crime of eating Boone's meatloaf. How dare you!? Down with Phyllis!

~The Characters~

Penn Zero: He's disgusting now. Never touch him, him stink of toilet water for the rest of his days!

Boone Wiseman: He will never forgive Phyllis for her abhorrent crime against humanity.

Sashi Kobayashi: Almost murdered two men, good for her! Hope she gets that cash from that melted crown.

Rippen: He and Larry were just along for the ride, really.

Larry: Do you think they've ever explored each other's bodies?

Dimension(s): Very fun take on an ancient temple but bathroom themed! Lot's of fun uses and designs. Like the plunger bridge, the bathtub railway and all the architecture! The humor is a little on the nose, literal toilet humor, but it works here... and only here.

Forms: Again, all good. Weird to see Sashi as a blonde with short hair but it's really cute. Rippen and Larry's designs of course I really like, Larry looks so huggable with that outfit and beard!

#PZPTH #Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero #Penn Zerothon #Flurgle Burgle #Temple of the Porcelain God

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hitoshiyoshi · 2 years ago

Text

stuck | bakugou katsuki

synopsis ↬ bakugou hates when nerds are better than him OR you get stuck in a closet but bakugou doesn’t feel like helping

warnings ↬ stuckage/kabeshiri, dub/non-con, college au, non-con picture taking, soft bully bakugou(?), bakugou doesn't act like a bully in the beginning but he does later on, the reader's favorite class is biology, the reader is a nerd, i'm sorry if i offend any nerds, the way you get stuck is kinda poorly written and i'm sorry, do not read if you don’t like being in tight spaces, or-l (receiving), f-ngering (receiving), bakugou calls you a lot of names (not nice names), slut-shaming, objectification, swearing, reader is wearing a skirt, leashes (brief), if you get confused at how I describe the scene just look at the header image, let me know if i've missed anything

pairings ↬ agedup!bully!bakugou katsuki x fem!nerdy!reader

word count ↬ 3.7k

Carefully carrying your biology class's materials, you strode along the partially empty halls to your destination. Professor Kayama, your biology instructor, asked if you could return them to a storage room in preparation for her next class. Being an exemplary student, you happily agreed — not minding the heavy load of fragile items. You held a large plastic tub of different materials she neatly stacked before handing them to you. Your slow-paced walk seemed to agitate some of your fellow classmates trying to hurry to their next activity, yet you didn't mind.

Entering the large storage area, you place the materials that manage to fit inside your arms on the floor. The room was quite large, filled with all assortments of items used in her class. All of which, you could name without even needing to try. Sticking your nose in science textbooks all day certainly paid off. The chatter of a loud group of students just outside the closed door seemed to distract you from your thoughts, just briefly.

You tried to unlock a door leading to a walk-in closet area, except it seemed to be jammed. This was a usual reoccurrence; Professor Kayama would always complain about the door, saying that it always gave her problems and that bringing this to your university for a fix would amount to nothing. She said, "they're too busy with less important things, i'll teach you how to fix it," and so she did.

It was a sliding door, the type that never swung open for "safety reasons". You tightly grasped the handle, pulling the door in the opposite direction while pressing all your strength against it. Finally, the door seemed to magically become smooth on its hinges and glided open with ease. Professor Kayama warned you never to suddenly push against the door with too much force at once as it would make the gears loose and jam it once again. So far, you've managed to survive the faulty door and any mishaps but you knew that you would eventually encounter some problems.

You pick up the plastic tub and enter the room, quickly arranging each object in its correct location. Of course, this wasn't your only duty for the day; Professor Kayama requested that you also tidy any materials that seemed out of place as she needed to leave campus early.

Again, you didn't mind. In fact, you seemed to enjoy knowing that you were her most-trusted pupil. The favorite of the class and the clear spark for envy from the other students. Always scoring the highest out of everyone in your class. Seated in the front during her lectures with your pen and paper ready to take notes while most students couldn't focus or snoozed off in the middle of class. You were the role model for them all to follow, and yet they could never match your pace.

Of course, with all of this attention, you attracted one jealous follower. A boy in your class with a name you were too busy to remember. It started with a "B", that was the only part you decided to memorize. You weren't interested in trying to become 'buddies' with people you wouldn't see again in four years. He always sat at the back of the lecture hall, too enamored with his friends to pay attention. You could vividly recall during one class hearing the obnoxious laughter of a friend he affectionately called, "dunce-face". The cacophony of their voices disrupted the entire lesson, irritating both you and Professor Kayama. You only noticed him because of his performance after every exam, project, and quiz.

The blonde would always try to outperform you. Yet, for the first time in his life, you made him experience failure.

Always coming in a distant second place to you; a sharp contrast to his perfect scores in every other class he took, passing them all with flying colors. You couldn't fathom how he did so well in a class he seemed to show no interest in.

His group of friends certainly weren't the brightest. The annoying one in your class failed nearly every test he took. While the rest weren't focused, instead finding ways to get a freshman's number so they could get their dicks wet. You concluded that he simply cheated on his exams. You were wrong. The notes for all his classes were extensive and thorough. He did whatever he could to ensure his throne was at the top of every class; the only thing more unbearable than last place was second.

His attempt at going above you only led to more shortcomings. Studying all night for a quiz that he ended up sleeping through was unfortunate, but he could get over it. Until he learned that you received another perfect score. Professor Kayama felt bad for him, she couldn't do much except arrange a tutoring session with you as his instructor. He didn't need her pity. He didn't need your pity.

You weren't elated with Professor Kayama's request for you to tutor him, yet you couldn't reject your favorite teacher. You approached him after class a few months ago, plastering your biggest and brightest fake smile. Waving your hand, a little too cheerful and innocent for his liking, and uttering words that made his hatred for you stronger: "I know this class is difficult, so would you like my help? I'm always free if you have any questions, we can be study partners! So, what do you say?"

God, your sweet tooth-rotting voice made him nauseous. You had to be faking it; that professor was watching over you like a hawk. You didn't know how humiliating it was for him. He had so much he wanted to say; resentful sentiments that would leave you beneath him with tears streaming out of your puffy eyes. The perfect view.

As you stood in front of him with your hand outstretched and waiting for his acceptance, his rage surged. You watched as his blood rushed to his reddening cheeks and ears, somewhat intimidated by his strange reaction. Infuriated with your weak attempt at challenging him, the blonde kissed his teeth and stormed out of the classroom. His gaze lingered on you for months following that interaction.

Until his deep ruby eyes caught you entering the storage room, running errands like a mule for your professors.

"Oi, Bakugou!" Yelled his red-haired friend standing across him in the hallway, "Are you listening?" Upon seeing the blonde nod, he continued. "So, you comin' to Mina's party?"

"Yeah, yeah... whatever," He said while running his fingers over the scruff of his neck. Kirishima named a list of girls attending like an elementary student reciting the alphabet, he's surprised he remembers each one. Momo, Uraraka, Yui... He recognized some, they were his frequent calls whenever he needed a quick fuck.

"—that girl in our english class," Kirishima peers up, trying to think once again before a lightbulb flickers in his head. "Denki tried with the smart girl in bio... fuck, I forgot her name... (Y/N) or something like that..."

"Who..?" He wasn't even sure why he bothered asking when he heard correctly the first time.

"That nerdy chick, always at the front in class,"

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but he said she's frigid... said no to his face before he could convince her. Too bad, she sounds like my type," Kirishima snickers under his breath as the blonde stays still.

By now, you've finished cleaning up most of the equipment and returned each of them to their assigned locations. Despite all of your years around fragile science materials, you seem to forget some essential points about safety. You can hear the familiar sound of heavy footsteps outside the closed door. Where have you heard them before? You only peeked away for a second; unfortunately, one second is enough time for an accident to happen.

Hitting your shin on the leg of a nearby desk before tripping over your feet, you fall on your knees and tummy — landing in the cramped walkway with the top half of your body inside the closet. You didn't have enough time to register the shockwave of pain through your legs. The closet's sliding door barrels down and pins you by the waist. Locking your body in place and wedging you right against the door frame. Fuck, it sounded like a cliché from a video on the Hub, which made it more embarrassing.

You try to move and twist your waist but to no avail. You reach your nearest hand to the door and push, yet it 'conveniently' seems jammed in place. For what feels like an eternity, you try desperately to move your body in any way that you can. You make some progress by managing to kneel on the hard tiles, yet the pain from falling prevents you from standing upright. Maybe you sprained something? You don't know, but you need to get out of here fast.

The last thing you want is to be a burden, but in reality, you should be concerned with someone thinking you're an idiot for falling like this. With few choices, you decide to call for help, "help..! somebody..! please, i need help!"

You should have been suspicious when you heard the sound of the front door opening. A minute hadn't even passed. It closes softly, and the faint sound of the lock fills the empty air. Asking if someone was there only led to more silence. The ground trembles like some desks have moved out of the way; obviously, someone was inside.

"Oh gosh, thank you..! I'm so clumsy, I don't know how this happened..." You continue rambling on, thinking they're clearing away to make space and rescue you. When they don't respond, you crane your neck behind only to see the disgruntled blonde — whose name you can't bother remembering — standing over you through the gap in the closet door. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, I don't know your name..."

"Doesn't fuckin' matter," Yet, he seems to grimace at your unnecessary comment. He menacingly looms over your body, making you too anxious and scared to look away.

"S- Sorry if I'm being a burden, but as you can see—" You say while trying to wiggle and show that you can't move but unintentionally show off your bum. "—I'm a little stuck, can you help me?"

"Why should I?" He says with an unwavering expression. He's dead serious. Piercing down at you beneath him while bubbling with excitement, he's won the jackpot.

"Uh... well, I'm hurt really bad. I can't get up on my own," That's unfortunate.

The whole situation was simply comical; he wanted to burst out laughing so bad, so that's what he did. His resounding yet obnoxious voice traveled through every wall of the room. This had to be a joke. There was no way that you of all the people he knew could end up in a situation like this. His cheeky grin only left you confused, clutching his belly as if he'd been injured.

"I know this might seem funny to you, but it's not. Please don't laugh..."

"But it is," He said, finally calming down and catching his breath. "I'm finding it hard to believe the teacher's pet could end up like this. Don’t tell me you’re a dumbass,"

"If you won't help me, will you just find someone else?" You turn your head around, letting your guard down for a moment. When will you learn to stop doing that?

"Why? Don't like me?" The feeling of his foot pushing into your lower back startles you. You aren't given much time to react before it's forcefully arched lower into an uncomfortable position, giving him a full view of your ass.

"H- Hey..! Cut that out..!" Your skirt rides up your thighs, exposing your cotton panties to his mischievous eyes. Greedy hands feel up your soft bum before giving it a tap.

"Wish I could help, but I don't feel like it," He says after finishing his touches. Staring off into the distance, acting as if he'd been genuinely contemplating whether or not to aid you.

"What..?" He eases his foot off your back and chooses to squat behind you. His hands caress your hips before lifting your skirt upwards, exposing your clothed heat.

"Sorry, love, you just look so pretty beneath me," He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your panties, chuckling to himself once he sees you struggle in his hands. Completely unfazed. "It's Bakugou... Katsuki, my name,"

Bakugou. Bakugou.

The surname rings a bell, it sounds so familiar. How could you forget? Your meager interactions with him flood back in your mind, but it's too late to remedy and make amends.

Tugging your panties past your cheeks, Bakugou left you uncovered as his hands freely roamed. He cupped each mound of flesh in his hands, spreading them apart and watching your folds glisten. His thumb runs along your labia, making your body shudder at the foreign sensation. Trying to ask him questions proved pointless; instead, the blonde whispered under his breath about you being desperate “like a bitch in heat”. Partially in disbelief at the sight of your slick as you rubbed your thighs together; you're really enjoying this, aren't you?

Circling his fingers over your clit and massaging your nub, your teeth sink into your lip to hold back moans. His fingers are skilled, he's done this plenty of times with other girls in the past. Yet, the way that he touches hints that he wants to go slow. Take his time and enjoy it as if you were his first. Smirking at your glistening heat as if to prove to his corrupted mind that his actions were justified.

To him, you were a conquest. The trophy on his display case that would become the envy of all his friends.

"W- Wait... Please don't—... do that..!" You want to sound strong, yet your voice is in the same sweet intonation.

Bakugou doesn't take you seriously, not when constant mewls float out of your lips and into his ears. Instead, saying he'll stop when he's finished in a tone that causes your heart to race with panic. You feel something warm and icky suddenly touching your heat; using his thumb, he spreads it across your folds while mumbling about "getting you ready". You don't even bother asking, succumbing to his lustful desires.

Maybe this is all he'll do. Feel you up and then help you when he's done, right?

You couldn't be more wrong.

His flat tongue takes a slow lap at your warmth as your hips wiggle again in his hold. Using both hands, Bakugou pins you still by your waist and lower back — holding you tight until you can't struggle. His grip is too strong, fingernails scratching into your skin. You don't stand a chance. He forces your back to arch more, releasing a hum of approval at your compliance. Kirishima said you were frigid, but now you've got him second-guessing.

His tongue darts across your clit with ease; gliding over your sensitive bud as your walls flutter. Teasing your sex just right, only taking Bakugou a few minutes to guess the spots that would drive you insane. The same insanity he was plagued with whenever he was around your presence. You tried using your legs to kick at the blonde, toes curling in your shoes. He swears into your pussy in frustration, why can't you just stay still? The vibration of his voice sends a wave of pleasure through as you moan in response, "nngh... d- don't i... i can't...ahh~"

One of your kicks nearly strikes him in the chest with full force. Your last attempt at fleeing once an intense pain surges through your leg. He simply finds it humorous again, the thought of you overpowering him. Bakugou moves one of his hands to your leg, pinning it to the tile flooring. Still determined, he continues his assault on your now swollen clit. Attached to your pussy and coaxing out your clear essence onto his tongue. Savoring your taste on his tongue, moving his head downwards, and giving you one final kiss on your clit.

You wince, feeling his thick middle finger sink inside your sopping entrance. Bakugou's thumb extends over the hood of your clit, soon covering both fingers in slick. Peaking through the gap, he sees your figure, biting on your fingers but failing to hide your whimpers — he can't wait to get out of this stuffy room — praying that you cum soon so he can see your face of pure bliss afterward.

Kirishima always said he preferred inexperienced girls. Always seemed to get attached easily with a few words of affection. Made good fucks for a quickie; send them a teddy bear, say you're sorry if you hurt them, and they'll be at your beck and call.

The familiar high pitch in your voice is something he hears too often, fully knowing what happens next. "don't tell me you're gonna cum already, love?" He taunts while his finger curls over another spot that sends a loud moan through the room. Bakugou's thumb presses deeper against your clit, smirking at your frequent pulsating walls.

"N- No..! I'm not...!"

"Hm, you're not? You're drippin' down here babe. Squeezin' me too. Was hoping you'd save some for my cock instead." His... what? You twist around, trying to stop him by reaching out but he grabs your hand instead. Stopping you from turning around and inspecting you like his newest toy, he says, "Ah, that's the pretty face I missed,"

Another digit enters you with ease, quivering against him and sucking him further with every graze against your g-spot. The familiar pooling of warmth below your stomach was hard to ignore. "should've known you were a slut when I saw your cute little pussy, only dumb sluts get wet like that," The boost of confidence he received once feeling your spasming walls was immense, clenching around him with every degrading word.

He slows, but not to a complete stop. "kats!—..." you whine in frustration, quickly pressing your lips together afterward. It surprises you as much as it does him. Not understanding why, after all this time, you wanted him more than ever. He edged you closer and closer, his fingertips kissing your cervix.

"Beg me," He said, yet you fought your lips to stay still, not wanting to embarrass yourself further. "Ah, teacher's pet thinks she's better than me, huh?" Bakugou's heavy hand suddenly connected with your bum, making you yelp at the stinging pain, "You know, I've got all day..."

"Please," You said weakly. Not good enough.

"C'mon, you can do better. Don't you wanna cum on my fingers..?" He spoke in a condescending tone, caressing the spot on your ass where he hit.

Fuck it, your head was far too gone. "please, katsu— i need... i wanna cum so bad..." Close, but not yet.

"Can't hear you, babe," His hand moves to tap against your clit, making you shudder with every hit. "Be a good little bitch for me, speak up..."

"Fu—Fuck... Katsu... please make me cum..! Need you... bad, lemme cum on your fingers— please..!

He smirked to himself, not entirely pleased but you'll learn — you're such an obedient student. Continuing with his pace, his thumb rolled across your swollen sex as the blonde watched expectantly. Making you unwind with every curl of his fingers until finally, a wave of pleasure rode over your body. Cum gushed from your entrance and onto Bakugou's fingers as he massaged your spot. Quickly finding himself mesmerized by your trembling thighs and sounds of ecstasy.

Eagerly removing his fingers once you've calmed, helping you ride out your orgasm before licking them clean. He moved to your dripping cunt, happily lapping at whatever sticky essence overflowed until his lips and chin shined under the overhead lights. As you pant and quiver, he gives you some encouraging pats on your bum.

He stands, and you hear the jingle of his belt before seeing his shadow move closer to you. Pushing his brawny arms through the gap, he loops the leather belt around your neck before fastening it. Bakugou gives an experimental tug and forces the strap upwards. The loop is loose enough for you to breathe but tight enough to leave indents.

He uses his strength to push the slider door open; it moves with ease. The old pesky thing was barely jammed, you probably could’ve gotten up on your own if you tried hard enough. Bakugou stares down as you try to move despite your aches and pains. “dummy doesn’t know basic physics, could’ve opened it yourself, bitch,”

Ignoring him, you try to stand but the blonde grasps the strap of his belt and tugs your body downward — making you fall straight on your knees again. Your body has become numb to the pain; when he presses his foot against your back again, you don’t even flinch. Bakugou kisses his teeth, annoyed that you're still whimpering. His belt is too short to stand, so he squats in front of you.

As you try to find comfort by caressing your aches, he pinches one of your cheeks harshly — forcing you to stare up at him, all teary-eyed and disheveled. The quick flash of his smartphone camera blinds your eyes, flashing white before fading.

"What did you do..?" You ask, but he doesn't need to answer. Instead, Bakugou moves his phone away from your face. "Please don't show that to your friends..."

It should've made him guilty. Hearing your desperate voice with puppy eyes begging him. But it only reminded him why he hated you so much, so weak and fragile yet somehow above him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that... I won't," No matter how much of an ass he wanted to be, he could never do that.

You're his personal conquest, the trophy, and the envy of all his friends. Knowing you, you'll probably take your 'goody-two shoes' ass and run to that professor you're close with or someone else he doesn't know. You can't run away yet, he wants to have more fun. Maybe fuck your brains out til' his name is the only thing your dumb ass can remember.

Bakugou stands and decides to bring his phone out once again, this time recording.

"I won't tell a soul, so put on your prettiest face... just for me,"

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foreverdolly · 2 years ago

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my bestest girl | austin!elvis x reader

summary: you're elvis’s childhood best friend, and he’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. his mother and father keep trying to push him to finally make a move, what with you being the only girl that they would ever approve of their son going steady with. elvis, bashful and fearful of rejection, decides to keep his feelings to himself. . . well- that is until he can’t physically take it anymore

pairings: austin!elvis x fem!reader

word count: 9,173 ( I couldn't stop typing ).

warnings/notes: SMUT !, cursing, the reader and elvis are both huge virgins, grinding, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, implied breeding kink, elvis loves you so much that it physically pains him. the internal image of an inexperienced, nervous elvis has me foaming at the mouth. everyone always writes austin!elvis as a sex god, but quivering boys with shaky, wandering hands who cry during sex is my own personal kryptonite. a continuation of this fic is currently in the works, so please follow me or ask to be added to my taglist for my virgin!elvis content if ya liked this.

masterlist | requests are currently closed !

“Mama, here you go again! Stop tryin’ to stick your nose into other people’s business.” He called from his bedroom, his heart pounding against his chest. Elvis stared at himself in the small mirror he had in his cramped space, taking a few steps back so that he could make sure that his short sleeve button up didn’t have any wrinkles. He had insisted that he do the ironing himself, not wanting his mother to be too overwhelmed with things to do. He wasn’t very good when it came to housework, no matter how hard he tried.

“I’m not doin’ anythin’ a mother shouldn’t do, baby! I ran into her daddy at the grocery store, and we just got to talkin’ is all.” Is that what she wanted to call it? Vernon had pulled Elvis aside just thirty minutes ago and had told him that Gladys had practically begged your father to get you to come over for dinner tonight. She’d been meddling in his relationship with you for years, but tonight was different. He could tell that she had something up her sleeve, ready to pull out once she got two of you cornered at the dinner table.

She had always been wildly overprotective of her son, and Elvis had never fought the hold that she had over his life. He didn’t blame her one bit for it, rather he enjoyed feeling loved and cared for. He never spent a single night away from home until he was seventeen, for crying out loud. If Elvis lost a son the same way that she had, he was positive that he’d want nothing more than to keep him safe and healthy. That was exactly what Gladys was doing. She looked after him and made sure he never got himself into any sort of trouble. His old pals from high school used to say that she felt “threatened” by the girls that used to try their hand at flirting with him, but the blue eyed boy knew that it just wasn’t the case. No, she wanted him to be with the right girl.

In Glady’s and Vernon’s eyes, you were the only girl for Elvis. He felt that way about you too.

When he reached puberty and moved to Memphis, girls started paying more and more attention to him. The one girl that he wanted to look in his direction never did though. His sultry voice, long eyelashes, and crooked smile never worked on you. Good lord, had he tried it time and time again, but you never acted interested. Despite the dull ache of rejection that Elvis always felt in your presence, he never could shake you. Not that he wanted to. You were just as much family to him as his own parents were, what with the fact that you two had always been connected at the hip. He couldn’t go a single day without phoning you up, the two of you chatting excitedly about your latest Beale Street shenanigans.

His love and attraction for you never dimmed, and his eyes never strayed. Elvis was positive that you were the girl that he was supposed to marry. . . but he knew that you didn’t feel the same way. He smoothed a few stray pieces of ebony hair back into place, chewing nervously at the inside of his cheek. “Sure, sure. You only did what you thought was right.” He moved to stand in the doorway of his room, pressing his hip against the wooden frame. “But mama?” She was anxiously setting the table, and stopped what she was doing so that she could meet his gaze.

“You can’t force her to feel somethin’ that she doesn’t, alright? I’m perfectly fine with just bein’ her friend.” That was a lie. The words burned his tongue the second that he said them, but he refused to take back the statement. He wasn’t going to say anything to you that might potentially push you away. He’d rather not have you romantically than not have you at all. Elvis was sure that he might just keel over if you never spoke to him again. The remorseful look on his mother’s face didn’t escape him, but he made the decision to ignore it. He didn't want anybody's pity. Not right now, at least. You’d be here any second, and the last thing he needed was to start moping around. You would be sure to notice.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks, clearing his throat as he straightened out his shoulders. “Now what can I do to help, satnin?” He cooed to his mother, watching the way the nervousness dissipated from her expression.

He was helping to lay out the silverware, but paused as there was a knock on the door. “That must be our girl. Elvis, how ‘bout you get that?” Vernon spoke from the kitchen, probably busy sneaking a few spoonfuls of his mother’s famous ambrosia salad, which she would be sure to notice. His father would be getting an earful about it later.

The man was at the door in the blink of an eye, his long legs quickly stalking across the small home. He ripped the door open with a wide smile, eager to see you after the few days that you two had been apart. You were like a drug to him- at this point he couldn’t go too long without you, not without suffering withdrawals. You blinked in shock, a few strands of your bangs fluttering with how violently he had ripped the damn thing open.

Standing in front of you was a very eager looking Elvis, his plush pink lips upturned into his signature smile. Judging by the way you were quick to step into the house and wrap your arms around him, he could tell that you were excited to see him as well. “That was the longest trip of my life.” You sighed against his chest, giving him one last squeeze before letting him go. He found it hard to speak for a few seconds, so he decided to nod his agreement. You and your family had taken a last minute vacation to Cherokee Lake Beach, deciding that the summer break would be a better time than ever to celebrate your father’s recent promotion. Last night had been your first day back, but you had claimed to be too tired for a visit, so Elvis made do with the half hour phone call you made to him.

Gladys had been lucky enough to bump into your dad after the week long vacation, which was how he had ended up in this mess. Elvis was too mortified to ask about all of the details, knowing that his loud mouthed mother probably gushed to the middle aged man about her son’s private thoughts and feelings. You were dolled up, which wasn’t completely unusual. You always went out of your way to look pretty- but you had even dusted your wide doe-like eyes with a shimmery shadow. Your cheeks were naturally flushed, your skin glowing after the days of soaking up the sun. He was taken aback by your beauty. So much so that he just stood there, his blue eyes half lidded as he took you in. For a moment neither of you spoke. You merely stared at one another, basking in each other’s presence. That was until Vernon spoke, that is.

“Gladys cooked you a welcome home feast, darlin’. I hope you’re hungry.” Elvis could have cursed at his father, your beautiful eyes leaving his face and instead turning in the direction of the kitchen.

Your lips moved up into a lazy smile, and soon you were moving closer to Vernon, wrapping your arms around him quickly as the two of you exchanged your hellos. He gave the top of your head a quick kiss before letting you go. Gladys was next, moving from the kitchen so that she could wrap you up in one of her usual bear hugs. She peppered your cheek with kisses, rubbing your arm up and down when she pulled away so that she could get a good look at you. “Why, look at you!” She purred, giving you a once over. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

And you did. Then again, Elvis couldn’t even remember a time when he hadn’t thought you looked gorgeous. Whether you were stumbling out of your room after a long night's rest, sleep caked in your eyes and your hair sticking up on end, or as sick as a dog- Elvis always found you gorgeous. He was smitten to the point of being lovesick for crying out loud.

“Did you make the ambrosia salad?” He heard you ask from the kitchen, your small frame disappearing into the tiny space. You and his mother always got along like two peas in a pod, but he couldn’t help but glare after his mother who had stolen you away from him so soon into the visit.

Vernon took it as his opportunity to move towards the dining room table, taking his seat. Elvis hesitantly followed suit, nervously looking down at his shirt one last time, attempting to brush out a wrinkle with his hands, his silver watch jingling softly with the movement. “Son,” His father kept his voice low, leaning forward on his elbows. “Your mother and I are goin’ to watch a movie together once we’re through with eatin’.” Elvis’s eyes furrowed in confusion, but he nodded his head anyway. “What movie are we seein’?” It wasn’t like his father to go to the movies. His parents never spent money on frivolous things like the cinema. Vernon was quick to shake his head, reaching into his pocket to show him just two tickets. “I just thought that you and y/n might like some time to yourselves tonight.” Elvis had to pinch his nose to keep from exploding, his cheeks hot with both anger and embarrassment. Now how the hell was he supposed to explain all of this to you? “Daddy- you’re just as bad as mama is!” He whisper-yelled. Before he had time to scold his father any further, his two girls emerged from the kitchen, arms full of serving dishes.

Warm biscuits, mashed potatoes with gravy made from drippings, green beans and hamburger steaks. His mother really had gone out for your long overdue return to the presley household. You sat next to Elvis wordlessly, and when he turned to face you he could tell that your cheeks were a little pinker than they had been before. He blinked a few times, but settled further into his seat, grabbing the linen napkin off of the table so that he could put it on his lap. The four of you all joined hands, your mother insistent that you all say grace before she began putting heaping servings on to everyone’s plate.

“So? How was the lake, y/n? I’m sure you and your family had quite the time down there.” Vernon was quick to engage you in conversation.

Your arm brushed against Elvis’s side every time you moved your fork around on the plate, and each time his stomach did a flip. He found it hard to even focus on eating, so he just moved his food around from one spot to the other, hoping that his mother wouldn’t notice his lack of appetite. If she did, she didn’t comment on it. Instead she was too focused on her role as “matchmaker”.

“It was wonderful! I got to teach my baby cousin how to swim while we were down there.” Imagining you carefully taking care of your aunt Valerie’s son made his heart seize up. Elvis had always wanted children, and lots of them. He saw how it had completed his own mother and father’s lives, and he wanted that for himself. His career had steadily been taking off, and though he hadn’t really gotten his big break yet, his single ‘That’s Alright’ was doing pretty well. They had just played it on the KWAM radio station the other night, and he had quite literally jumped for joy. Once he was settled enough in his career, he wanted to start a family and get married. Hopefully by some time next year, he might be far enough ahead in his life where that could be something to seriously think about. That is. . . if you ever returned the sentiment. His mother seemed to be thinking the same thing, because her eyes softened.

“You’d make a mighty fine mama someday. I know you wanted to go to college once your younger sister graduates high school, but I’d hope you’d be thinkin’ ‘bout marriage too right around that time.” Elvis widened his eyes at his mother, his mouth parting in shock at her boldness.

Your cheeks heated up all over again, but you slowly nodded your head. “I’d like to be able to support my parents someday, which was why I wanted to go and get my education. I do want a family someday though. . . It just depends.” Your southern drawl was as sweet as sugar. Your voice has always been one of the many sources of Elvis’s weak spots for you. He glanced over, catching the way you were looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He swallowed thickly, filling his fork with mashed potatoes so that he could keep himself busy.

Gladys hummed her approval, but continued to hone in on the subject. Elvis knew that this was going to be a shit show. . . but it was almost like the woman was going out of her way to embarrass him. “Elvis has always wanted a family, ever since he was a little boy. Isn’t that right, baby?” He nearly choked on his food, covering his mouth with his hand as he cleared his throat. You seemed to notice the panic on his face, because you were quick to hand him his glass of sweet tea. He gulped it back appreciatively.

“The both of you are quite the lookers. If you two ever had any youngins, they’d be models.” It was your turn to choke on your food, narrowly avoiding getting a green bean stuck in your windpipe. Elvis reached out, giving your back a few pats before glaring at his mother.

“Mama! That’s enough, ya hear? Give it a rest.” He spoke through clenched teeth, shaking his head in disbelief. To say that he was mortified would be an understatement. He knew that the two of you were in for a treat the second that his mother had practically skipped home last night to tell him the news, but god damn it this was horrifying. He was too scared to even look in your direction, fully convinced that the second his parents left the house you would be sure to reject him. It would be brutal, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to survive it.

“I was just tryin’ to help-” Gladys started to mumble, but Elvis stood up from the table, the chair loudly scraping against the wooden floors. He tossed his napkin down onto his plate, staring the woman down.

“Daddy, don’t you think the two of you should start headin’ to the theater? Wouldn’t want ya to be late.” His low voice was thick with humiliation, his lush lashes casting shadows on his cheeks as he turned his attention to his father. The man quickly nodded, standing up so that he could grab Gladys by the arm. “You’re right, son. Come on, dollface. Let’s get goin’.”

Elvis could tell that his mother was starting to realize the embarrassment she had caused. She was damn near tears as she gave her son a soft pat on the back, and for once in his life he didn’t pay any mind to it. Elvis was a mama’s boy, and proud of it. He had taken care of his parents all of his life, both financially and emotionally. The only thing he asked for was privacy every now and again, because he had always been careful around you for a reason. Losing you would kill him. He’d be absolutely gutted. He shoved his hand into his pocket as the front door closed behind his parents, his sharp jawline ticking as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. He was staring absentmindedly at the table, his mind flying at a mile a minute as he tried to come up with something to say to you. Anything to fix whatever the hell his mother just did.

Gladys Love Presley might as well have shouted from the rooftop that her son was in love with you. She had just hammered that final nail into his coffin. There was no getting out of this one. Over the many years that the two of you had known each other, he had slipped up on numerous occasions. Just two years ago he had tried to kiss you at a party, and when you had leaned away he had feigned drunkenness when in actuality the man had barely had a drop to drink the entire night. This was worse somehow. He could feel the tension in the air so thick that he could barely breathe.

“Well, now ya know.” He threw his hands up, his heart pounding with nervousness or anger- he just didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t differentiate between the tsunami of emotions that were washing over him. You kept silent, but he could feel the weight of your gaze. He swallowed thickly, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I was hopin’ she wouldn’t be so obvious for once in her god damned life.” He moved away from the table, pacing back and forth in the living room.

“Elvis, I’m not up-” “Just let me talk, okay? I at least want you to hear it from my mouth and not hers. She’s spoken for me my entire life,” He motioned towards the door, tapping his foot angrily. “So I don’t know why I’m shocked.”

You bit your own lips to keep them from quivering, and he watched you distractedly for a few more seconds before finally taking a deep breath, running his large hands over his face. “I’ve never been able to get you off of my mind. You ran into me in the hallway on our first day of school, do ya remember that?” Despite his darkcast mood, he couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “You were wearin’ that pink gingham dress? The one your mama forced you to wear. . . and I thought that you were the most beautiful girl in the world. You smelled like gardenias, and were always eating peaches with your packed lunches. You were mean to every boy that ever approached you- but not me.” He shook his head, his voice thick as he remembered the first time he ever saw you. “You were a baby faced daydream of a girl, and I’ve never been able to get enough of you. I never will.”

Elvis didn’t want to look at you for too long. He could tell by your expression that you were close to tears. He was neck deep into the confession now, and he didn’t want to leave anything out. He had been bursting at the seams for years. Bursting with love, and it felt good to get it all off of his chest. Damn good.

“I don’t have eyes for anyone else. You asked me why I turned Dixie down last year when she asked me out, and it’s because you’ve blinded me. You’re so bright, I can’t see anyone else. I know you don’t feel the same way that I do. You’ve made it very clear over the years. . . but I just want you to know that I’m madly in love with you. My heart just aches. It’s disgustin’ how much I love you, really.” He laughed humorlessly, kicking his shoe against his mother’s rug.

He could hear your soft hiccups from across the room, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to run to you and hold you, even for just a second, or if he wanted to find some means of escape. Either way, he had done it. There really wasn’t much else for him to say or do, other than just wait to hear what you had to say. He just hoped you’d be nice about it all. You were always kind to him, but maybe he had crossed a line. Maybe he had incurred your wrath somehow.

He opened his arms out wide at his sides, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally locking his eyes on you. “Go ahead. Get it over with, y/n.” He didn’t want to beat around the bush with the rejection. You needed to rip it off quickly like a band-aid.

╚══•●•══╝

Your father had tried to emotionally prepare you for the night. He had accepted the invitation on your behalf, knowing everything that Gladys had in mind for the dinner. It was no secret to any of your family or close friends that you were in love with Elvis Presley. He was just as much a part of your everyday life as breathing was. The two of you had done everything together. From attending senior prom to getting drunk for the first time, most young adult milestones had been reached together, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite your unchanging feelings, you were no stranger to the way that other girls looked at Elvis. You’d have to be blind not to see how beautiful he was. From his sultry blue eyes framed by thick black lashes to his plush lips and perfectly-imperfect smile; Elvis was irresistible. Nobody would ever compare to his looks. And his voice? It was smooth and velvety like honey. You had stopped being nervous around him years ago, and instead suffered your crush internally. Whenever friends or family asked, you always brushed the topic off. Either telling them that you weren’t ready to tell him, or that you were certain that he didn’t feel the same. Either way, it wasn’t time. When was it ever going to be though? The older the two of you got, the more of your old friends from school started getting engaged or married.

One day Elvis was bound to find someone worth proposing to. One day you’d have to be forthright with him and your feelings.

Elvis had always turned girls down, and you had gotten too comfortable with that fact. One day the right girl was bound to ask him out, and for once he wouldn’t say no. You’d be left in the dust. So when your father came bounding into the house, his eyes alight with excitement, you couldn’t see what there was to be so happy about.

“Elvis has something he wants to tell you tomorrow night. Gladys wanted me to make sure you’re at their house for supper.” Your stomach had dropped. What was so exciting? The big news could be a handful of things: he finally found a worthwhile person to manage him, he got a well paying gig, his career was beginning to take off. All you could think about was the fact that he could be telling you that he finally got himself a girl. All night you had practiced your smile in front of the mirror. As you sat there at your vanity, your pink lips pulled back in a wide grin, you couldn’t wipe the sadness from your eyes. Tomorrow was going to be the worst day of your life, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was like knowing you were about to get in a car accident, but you were unable to pull over to the side of the road. You just had to keep driving, hands glued to the steering wheel and foot nailed to the gas pedal.

You had taken extra care in your appearance that night, even going as far as to apply a soft pink eyeshadow to your lids. If you were going to get your heart broken you at least wanted to look pretty.

Elvis always looked at you with kind eyes, but the way that he had opened the door that night had left you stunned into silence. Your chest burned like it was on fire. The longer you looked at him, the more in love you fell. Right when you thought that you couldn’t love the boy any more- it was impossible- he would look at you like that. You had quickly searched the living room for any sign of another girl, but found none. The only purse to be seen was Gladys’, and the middle aged woman’s voice was the only one to be heard.

It wasn’t until Gladys had you cornered in the kitchen that you finally clued in that she had schemed something up for the two of you. Right as you were grabbing all the food that you could fit in your arms, the woman leaned in close, her eyes twinkling. “You’d make the perfect daughter in-law.” If Elvis and Vernon had noticed the way your face had flushed a bright red, neither of them commented on it.

Gladys only continued throughout the night, driving the point home. If the news wasn’t about him having a girlfriend, then what could it possibly be? He hadn’t said anything about his singing yet. The more aggravated and embarrassed Elvis became throughout the dinner, the more confused you became.

It wasn’t until Elvis mentioned his parent’s surprise movie date that it all finally clicked.

You’d never seen the man get so upset with his mother before. Sure, she could get a bit overbearing and annoying at times, but he had more patience than anyone else you’d ever met before. He treated his parents like they were his own children, and never minded their meddling before now. His cheeks were red with anger, a few pieces of black hair falling out of place as he began to pace in the living room. They hung in his eyes, bouncing a bit with his constant movement. “Elvis, I’m not up-” You wanted to let him know that you weren’t upset with him or his mother, but he cut you off before you could get the words out.

You didn’t know that you were holding your breath until you felt as though you were going to faint. You sucked in a deep breath, watching him with wide, teary eyes once he finally turned to face you. He had always been a poet, in his own right. He wrote beautiful songs, but you never had prepared yourself for such sugar-coated words to be spoken to you so directly like this. You weren’t sure what to say. How in the world were you ever supposed to say anything half as romantic and as beautiful as that, especially in the heat of the moment like this? You sniffled softly, wiping at your tear stained cheeks before you stood up on shaky legs. His chest was rising and falling in quick succession, so despite his calm expression, you could tell that he was panicking. He had never been so vulnerable like this in front of you.

You began making your way up to him, your bottom lip quivering as you took in his expression. He noticed your tears, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Just say what you need to say.” He assured you, his arms dropping back down to his sides. It was crazy, but he really thought that you were about to turn down his affections. There wasn’t even a shred of hope in his bright blue eyes.

“You’re either blind,” Your voice shook as you spoke, but you kept going. “Or an idiot, EP.” His eyebrows slowly began to furrow in confusion. He licked his dry lips before opening his mouth. “You don’t have to insult me too, ya know. Jesus.” His eyes began filling with tears, and that was all it took.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing his face contorted with pain, his eyes so very blue and so very sad- it pushed you over the edge. You grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him down to your height. Your movement was so rough and jerky that one of the buttons even flew off, but you paid it no mind. There was no time for apologies.

His lips felt full and plush against your own, albeit a little chapped from the way he had been nervously chewing them during dinner. You had been kissed, but only once before. It had been a horrible slobbery mess, and even though Elvis had laughed at your expense all those years ago, you could tell that he was upset. Now you recognized it as jealousy.

You poured everything you could into that kiss, your hands moving up to cup his cheeks and hold him in place as you slowly moved your lips against his, the tip of your tongue gently lapping against his bottom lip. You were easing him into it, and judging by his hands that shakily wrapped around your waist, he was terrified shitless. Scared or not, he was excited out of his mind to finally kiss you. Taste you. His unsure hands tightened their hold, his large hand sliding up from your hip to your back, pressing you flush against him. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, and the second that it registered to Elvis, he gasped against your lips.

“I don’t know what I’m doin'.” He mumbled shyly against your mouth, his hot breath fanning over your face. You allowed your eyes to flutter open, your thumbs brushing against his warm cheeks. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did right then. His eyes were half lidded and laden with a lust that he still didn’t quite understand. His cheeks were flushed, and as you pulled back a little more so that you could get a better look at him, his lips looked pink and kissed. You breath locked up in your chest as you noticed his eyes still looked watery. You moved your hand upwards, gathering up one of the unshed tears that had become tangled in his thick lower lashes. “I don’t either.” You admitted with a smile. He chuckled, his hand moving further up your back so that he could gently cup the back of your neck. “Let’s learn together.” You weren’t sure when you had gotten so bold, but it was worth it to see his reaction.

He hurriedly pressed his lips against yours, the both of you slowly moving backwards. Neither of you were sure where you were trying to go, but you just knew that you needed to get closer somehow. One of your hands moved from his face as you felt something pressing against your lower back, moving to try and blindly figure out just what it was. Elvis didn’t need to open his eyes to know that the two of you had ended up back in the dining room. He wordlessly bent down, placing his hands at the back of your thighs so that he could sit you down on the table. It was his turn to run his tongue along your bottom lip, and you wasted no time granting him access. The two of you explored each other’s mouths tentatively at first, but the more time went on, the more hungry the both of you became. He couldn’t get enough of you. His hands shook with the weight of his neediness, his hands moving from your neck, to your hair, grabbing a fistful as he held you more firmly against him. The two of you had fallen into a pattern, and in a matter of seconds the kiss no longer felt inexperienced. The both of you moved your lips against one another as if you could somehow devour the other. You parted for a second so that you could take a few deep breaths, and Elvis took that time to press his lips against your chin, your cheek, and down your neck.

You spread your legs so that he could step between them, your hands shaking as they gripped at the fabric of his cotton shirt. It felt like every single nerve ending was on fire. Anywhere he touched felt like someone was holding a flame to it. His lips pressed against the hollow of your throat, his needy hands moving over your thighs, up your stomach, and stopping just below the swell of your breasts. His thumbs gently dug into the soft skin there, but it wasn’t enough for you. “For the love of god, touch me.” Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears. Elvis let out a loud groan against your skin, his hands moving up to cup you through the bodice of your dress.

Your breasts felt heavy with want, even in his hands. He added pressure, his ring and middle finger pressing against your hardening nipples. You let out a loud yelp, your hips bucking on their own accord. Elvis’s hips jerked forward as he felt your core brush against his own, ripping his face out of your neck so that he could stare down at you with wide eyes. His pupils were completely blown out, his eyes more black than blue at this point. The noise you had let out as his hips moved against yours had been sinful. Never in your life had anything even remotely similar left your lips. He wanted to see what he was doing to you, so he moved his hips again but slower this time. Your jaw dropped, your lips parting as you felt him pressing against you. The movement directly stimulated your clit, and you couldn’t help but jerk against him slightly. It felt too good.

It was almost too much, but still not enough, all at the same time. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared up at him, concentrating hard on not making a sound. You weren’t sure why but it was embarrassing. Elvis’s lips also parted as he repeated the action, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he licked his lips, his arm wrapping around you so that he could get a better angle. He pressed against you harder, moving his head down to press a kiss against your top lip. “Make that sound again for me, baby. Please.” He sounded so good when he was begging for your validation. He wanted to know that he was making you feel good. He wanted to know that he was doing right by you, and god was he. Your eyes nearly rolled back at the mere sound of his voice, so deep it was practically a hum.

His hand lowered from your back to your bottom, and he gripped hard, physically moving you against him in time with his hips. You moaned so loudly you could feel the sound reverberating in your chest. “Oh fuck.” You distantly heard him curse, but you were too focused on what he was doing to you to really understand what was going on around you. Your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers fumbling as they tried to undo the buttons. It must have been taking too long, because Elvis’s hands moved to cover yours. “J-Just rip-” He gently brushed your hands away gripping the front of his shirt with shaky hands. He moved his mouth down to yours, pressing a wet kiss to your lips. “Rip it.” He was breathless as he tugged at the shirt, the buttons popping off with small snapping sounds. He must have decided that unbuttoning the shirt would have taken too long, because the second that he felt air against his chest he moved your hands towards him, wordlessly begging you to feel him. You swallowed back his hot pants as he breathed against your lips, your hands moving against his soft skin. Your small hands brushed against the expanse of his chest, starting just above his belly button and moving upwards. The tips of your nails gently scraped against his nipples, and he jerked forward, letting out a small hiss. “I’m sorry.” You were quick to apologize, but he shook his head, pressing his forehead against yours as he searched your eyes. “I-I liked it.”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you moved your hands up and over his shoulders. Despite his skinny frame, he was toned. You pulled away from his face, smiling softly as he tried to follow you, not wanting to be parted from you for even a second. You let your eyes brush over his chest, moving the shirt down his shoulders so that you could get your fill. For a second, even through the haze of lust, Elvis’s eyes flashed with uncertainty as he watched you take him all in. Sure, it was just his chest, but for a second he was scared that he might be too scrawny for your tastes. The second that your eyes finally met his, all doubts flew right out the window. He wet his lips as he took in your expression, his heart hammering in his chest. Never in his life had he ever seen a more beautiful girl. This look- this expression- was all for him. If he had anything to say about it, no one else would ever see you in this position.

You were just his. All his. You knew it, and now he knew it too. “I love you.” His voice was so quiet that you barely heard it, and suddenly he had you laid out on the table, moving to push plates and silverware down or off the table- he didn’t care. You laughed against his mouth as a glass cup filled with tea shattered on the floor next to him. “Damn it.” He cursed with a smile, quickly going back to having his fill of your lips. His hands gently moved from the back of your knees to your thighs, his fingers brushing against your soft skin.

He was damn near petting you, groaning into your mouth as he pressed himself flush against your core. You could feel him better at this angle, your eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling for a few seconds before squeezing closed. He must have been painfully hard, and part of you were scared that if it already felt this good, that you might never want to stop. You loved him so much it was physically beginning to hurt. Never in your life did you ever want to be parted from this boy. Not even for a second. You opened your eyes again as his tongue pressed against yours, watching his eyelashes flutter as he kissed you. The ceiling light in the dining room hung directly overhead, looking more like a halo than anything to your tear blurred eyes. “I love you.” Elvis pulled away then, bracing one arm against the wooden table as he stared down at you, trying to decide if he had really heard you say that to him. He blinked a few times before he melted against you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He pressed kisses against the flushed skin there. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” His hands had snaked under your back then, lifting you up and off of the table. He backed up and out of the room, giving your small form a small squeeze. “Again.”

“I love you.” He was walking blindly through the house, holding one arm against the nearest wall so that he could feel for the doorway. He peeked his eyes up from your shoulder, making the final couple of steps into his bedroom. He closed the door with his foot, shuffling over towards the bed. “Again.” He sounded breathless now, his voice thick with emotion.

“Oh god, do I love you.” He placed a knee on the bed, gently setting you down before crawling over your form. His bottom lip quivered as he sat up on his knees, shrugging his shirt off of his shoulders. His hands moved to his belt, but he stopped himself. “I don’t want ya to feel pressured. How far were you wantin’ to go?” You knew that all you had to do was say the word and that Elvis would have stopped at any point. You were nervous, admittedly so, but you could tell that he was just as scared, if not maybe a little more so. The both of you seemed to want the same thing though. The both of you had already gone too far to back down now. You wanted him to be inside of you. Your body was humming with need at this point, the constant touches to your core working you up to the point of damn near frenzy. You were past the point of being nervous of what you were saying to him. You were usually careful with your words, but any and all shame had flown out of your body the second his lips had made contact with your neck. “I want you inside of me. Right now.”

He let out a small whimper, his hands moving as quickly as they physically could as he removed his belt, tossing it onto the floor and doing the same thing with his pants. You were already sitting up, your hands moving to the zipper of your dress. You shrugged it off of you, kicking it down to the foot of the bed once it was off of you. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, but Elvis was on you in the blink of an eye, his strong arms wrapping tightly around you, his hips nestling in between your legs. You could tell by the way he was staring at you that he truly liked what he was seeing.

Elvis always looked at you with honest eyes, soft and kind for you always. But he was staring at you now like you were the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on, and you were. He loved you. Every inch of you. He’d loved you since your embarrassing high school years, and over time the feelings had only managed to grow. They deepened with your bond, and at this point he was sure that he couldn’t love you any more than he already did. There was just no possible way.

He pressed kiss after kiss against your lips, his hand moving up your thigh slowly, as if he were testing the waters. He was giving you a chance to back out. You didn’t say a word. His fingers finally brushed against you, gathering up a bit of your slick before gently moving upwards, continuing his exploration. The second his fingers brushed against your clit, you couldn’t hold back your obscene moan. Elvis was a fast learner, repeating the motion again and again as he pressed his finger against you in circular motions. Your body’s natural instincts took over, your hips rocking back and forth against your hands as he continued to bury his hand in between your legs. You could feel his cock against your inner thigh, completely unclothed now. Your hands moved down to feel him, but his free hand stopped you before you could. “I wanna make you feel good.” He said simply. Elvis’s blue eyes pinned you down, watching as you panted and writhed beneath him. After some time he sped up his ministrations, which elicited even more ungodly sounds from you. He ate it all up like a man starved, his jaw slack, his lips swollen from the constant kissing. You could feel yourself starting to come undone, your head pressed against the mattress. Your breathing sped up, and your heart rate with it. Elvis could tell that you were about to climax. He might have been a virgin, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot. Men often had no filter, and not all of his friends were as inexperienced as he was.

He repositioned his fingers, moving so that his thumb was pressed against your clit, moving to bury two of his fingers into your cunt. You yelped in surprise, but found that it wasn’t uncomfortable like you once thought it might be. Your hands gripped his biceps, feeling the muscle flex under your palm as he continued his movement. You felt something building up in your abdomen, your eyes beginning to fill with tears as the pleasure reached its peak.

“That’s it, baby.” Elvis mumbled, feeling you flutter around his fingers, watching your face closely as you threw back your head, your body quivering as he continued to ride you through your orgasm. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, and for a second you swore that you had gone blind, your vision going white. After a few seconds you finally sucked in a deep breath, Elvis growling low in his chest as you tried to back away from him. The pleasure was getting to be too much. “Please,” You begged breathlessly, blinking back tears. “I need you.” You were beginning to get overstimulated, but the second that Elvis removed his fingers you felt the need to cry out. You felt so empty.

You gripped at him wildly, your nails digging into his skin as he reached down, wrapping his large hand around his cock. You finally took the opportunity to look down at him, having not gotten a good look at him earlier. What you had felt and what you were now seeing were two completely different things. Sure, you’d never actually seen anyone’s dick before, but this exceeded your expectations. Even compared to his large hands, the man was huge. You swallowed thickly, leaning up slightly so that you could press your forehead against his.

His head was an angry pink, begging to be touched in some way. Precum beaded down the entire length of him, the man dripping with need. Elvis watched you, trying to decipher your expression. Once he was positive that you had gotten a good look at him, he wasted no more time. He pressed his head against your entrance, both his own precum and your slick making it easy for him to press his way in. You were so turned on- so ready- that your body practically sucked him in.

Elvis’s breathing was so loud that you could hear it, his chest rising and falling wildly. He was fighting off his base urges, wanting nothing more than to press all the way in and fuck you into the mattress. You could see the pulse in his neck, thumping away wildly as he stared down at you. Once he was sure that you were fine he pressed in further, repeating the process until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Despite the fact that your orgasm had warmed you up for what was to come, it did very little to spare you the pain. It was sharp and sudden, but dissipated just as quickly as it came. Elvis let you cling to him and didn’t say a word when your nails dug in a little too deep for comfort. His free hand cupped your cheek, shushing your soft whimpers and kissing your cheeks. You could feel him quivering against you, as if the emotions and sensations were too much for him to handle. He only began to move once he was positive that you were alright, pressing his forehead against yours as he watched you closely. His eyelashes brushed against yours when his eyes fluttered, his breath shuttering across your lips. His hips moved slowly at first, his moans quiet and under his breath. The second that you raked your nails down his back, letting out a moan of your own, he was gone. It was almost as though he just snapped.

He sat up, pressing your back into the mattress as his hands moved to your hips. The different angle caused him to press against your cervix, and for a second it was painful. You cried out, gripping the comforter tightly in your hands as he continued to fuck into you. His moans turned to grunts, and then into growls. They rumbled low in his throat, the sound doing dangerous things to you. His jaw ticked as he watched you. He loved the way that your back arched, watching your breasts as they bounced with his frenzied movements. Elvis might not have known what he was doing, but he was going off of pure animalistic instinct. Never in all of his life did he think anything could feel this good. Your walls were soft and velvety, and pressed tight tight tight against him. If he had thought that he couldn’t live without you before, now he was certain. Elvis could have eaten you alive.

His hips continued their assault as one of his hands moved back down to your core, pressing against that same spot that caused you so much pleasure before. Your walls instantly tightened around him, causing him to cry out at the sudden wave of pleasure. He was close, and he was positive that no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to last long. He wanted to do whatever he could to make you cum right along with him. His fingers moved against her wet core along with his thrusts, the two feelings combined almost too much for you to wrap your brain around. You could feel him everywhere. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and yet you couldn’t stop shivering. “Please, please, please.” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, just that you wanted something. No- you needed something.

“I wanna cum inside.” Elvis’s voice was shaky from exertion, a thin sheen on his chest and beading on his brow. You were too blissed out to think too hard about whatever consequences that might have. All you knew was that you wanted more. Anything that he could give you of himself, you wanted it. You nodded quickly, moving your hips against his the best that you could. You could feel your own climax boring down on you like a weight, your walls already beginning to flutter around him. He leaned his torso over yours, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth. His lips muffled your cries of pleasure as you came and came hard. He followed close behind you, rutting into you a few more times before he broke the kiss so that he could press his face against your throat. You jumped slightly at the sudden warmth that began to pool in your abdomen. His hips pumped in and out of you every few seconds, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You were starting to come down from your high, but you still managed to lazily move your hips against his, wanting all of it. Every last drop. You didn’t want any of it to go to waste. Not when it could be filling you up.

He peppered your face with soft kisses, and it wasn’t until he pulled away that you realized that he must have been crying at some point, his eyes slightly red and his cheeks wet. “I love you.” You didn’t need to be assured, but at this point he was saying it just to say it. Just because he could. “My bestest girl.” He smiled down at you, rubbing small circles into your flushed cheeks with his thumb.

You hummed lazily, finding it hard to keep your eyes open for too long. Elvis appeared to be wide awake, leaning his head against his hand as stared at you. After a few more seconds he slowly pulled out of you, and you couldn’t help but wince as you felt liquid leaking out of you. He reached down, using his ruined shirt to carefully wipe you up. He took his time, making sure that you were alright before pulling the comforter up and around you. “I’m goin’ to go get somethin’ to drink, alright?” He slipped his trousers back on, closing the door behind him as he stepped out of the room. Distantly you heard the front door open, Gladys and Vernon’s voices filling the small home.

“Oh. . . did y/n leave already?” There was an awkward silence before you could hear the sink turn on in the kitchen. It only took the middle aged woman a few seconds to notice the broken glass. “What in the sam hell happened in here? Elvis Aaron Presley- you broke one of my good cups!” There was a mumbled sorry and the sound of shattered glass being tossed into the metal garbage bin. You waited with bated breath for him to return, pulling the blanket further up around yourself just in case someone walked in. “Gladys. . . baby. . . let’s go and head to our room, alright? I think y/n’s still here, darlin’.” It was obvious that Vernon had clued in on what happened immediately. You could hear the discomfort in his voice as he spoke. “She’s here and you’re lookin’ like that? Put on a shirt. . . “ Her voice trailed off, and for a second you were sure that both you and Elvis were goners. “So does this mean you two are goin’ steady? Really? Oh, Elvis. . . I’m so happy for you.” She lowered her voice in the hopes that you might not hear her, but her voice was naturally loud. “Thank you mama. Do you mind ringin’ up her folks and lettin’ them know she’ll be staying the night? I’ll sleep on the couch if need be-” You had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. Well, it was moot-point now. Gladys seemed to think the same thing. “Her father and I were just sayin’ yesterday how badly we wanted to see you two together. They’ll be over the moon. Head to bed now, alright? I’ll call her mama right now.”

Elvis slipped into the room a second later, handing you a glass of water that you happily gulped down. He flicked the light off, crawling into bed beside you. “I thought she was going to kill me.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You placed the glass down on the bedside table, laying back against the pillows. Elvis moved to lay on his side, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Now they’ll be gunnin’ for us to get engaged. I’ll never hear the end of it at home.” Your mother was already quite the nag. She’d be relentless when you got home tomorrow. “Give me a month.” He mumbled sleepily, moving to lace his fingers with yours. You closed your eyes tightly, your cheeks flushing all over again. “A whole month? Really?” You teased quietly. He chuckled softly, placing a warm kiss against your shoulder before he fully settled into the mattress.

“Fine. A week.” And it didn’t sound like he was joking, either.

want to continue reading this story? check out part two.

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glitteryvioletpomegranate · 2 years ago

Text

❌ Black Mail

WARNINGS: fem reader, nonconsensual, baby trapping, creampie, aggression, manhandling, oral, blackmail, Virgin, bi reader, canonverse, degradation, semi-breeding kink, light fluff

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

NOTE: This is my first fanfiction. I may rewrite this fic. I have never been much of a writer and am typically not really into fiction. (Aot is a rare one!) I have always been into royal history. And there are so many biographies dedicated to the sex lives of like Henry VIII and Julius Cesar, Catherine the Great, etc.

SYNOPSIS: (Y/N) is a sexually repressed noble Marlyean girl. Who struggles with the guilt of her sexual desires and prejudice beliefs. She takes up new interests out of boredom and desperation and gets more than she bargains for.

Her mother always told her she was too curious for her own good. She was always sticking her nose into others' business. (Y/N) couldn't help herself. Like many other women who grew up in the aristocracy, she was bored. Aristocratic parents had their daughters receive the same education as their sons. However (Y/N) knew she could not fully use her education to its full potential. (Y/N) family had intermarried within the Marleyan royalty for over three thousand years. as a result, she was gifted with a life full of excess and privilege. It made many things too easy for her in life. Too much excessive time on her hands. She had developed a different interest to subside her boredom.

(Y/N) loved history and research; she spent many days and late nights researching and reading the history of her people and nation. She aspired to be a researcher and historical professor; however, that dream would never transpire because of her sex and status. High-ranking women are destined to be a woman of great virtue from birth to death.

The first duty is to make a tremendously prestigious marriage. Secondly, manage a sizable luxurious estate.

And most importantly, to spend the rest of her birthing years having as many heirs as possible.

The thought of her future never interested her. Only her guilty pleasures kept her interest. She had another love, another guilty pleasure she dared not tell a soul. The nobility of Marley was an incredibly tight, neat circle.

Everyone knew everyone. (Y/N) loved hearing the gossip and scandals of the other ruling families. The most salacious rumor at the moment spreading around the court involved a prominent Marlyean Duke. It was alleged that he had a bastard child with every Eldian woman he hired at his estate. His wife was forced to bear the humiliation that came with each and every child. These types of relations frequently happen. Prominent Marleyan men took willing and sometimes unwilling house servants as mistresses, over half of them being Eldian. (Y/N) had hardly ever been around many Eldians. She knew many of the Marleyan noblemen had children outside of marriage. It was an open secret.

Most prim societies choose to turn a blind eye to such relations. However, there was unfortunate hypocrisy for Marleyan aristocratic women indulging in the same activity. (Y/N) had once heard a story about a great Lord's daughter having an adulterous affair with an Eldian man. She was engaged to an Earl at the time of this forbidden engagement. As a result, She later gave birth to an illegitimate daughter. The child had a slight eye infection when she was born, and the doctors did a complete health examination, including a blood work test. And the truth was discovered. The Lord's daughter, who received the most lenient punishment for those all involved, was sent to an asylum for shaming her family and husband. Her Eldian lover was tortured along with sentence to death. As for the baby, there are only rumors about what happened to her. Most likely killed as well or, if lucky, dropped at the gates of the Eldian internment zone. The Lord's family station throughout society suffered as well. Her father was shunned, and his other children lost excellent marriage prospects. The poor woman was seen as a whore nothing but damaged goods.

Not only did the Lord's daughter lose her virginity outside of wedlock, but an additional level of shame was placed on her for fornicating with an Eldian demon. Y/N) pitied the Lord's daughter. She was left to rot in an asylum. Many who went into asylums were never seen or spoken about again. Sexuality scared (Y/N). It could lead to a woman's ruin. But late at night, she could not help but try and please herself. She had never once made herself fully orgasm. She'd take her finger and do small laps around her hard clit. . She had somewhat learned how to please herself through romance novels. (Y/N) knew if she were caught reading such filth, she'd be punished. She couldn't help herself. She throbbed at the idea of being filled by a man. (Y/N) could only imitate with her fingers. She wanted so desperately to be touched in such forbidden ways. She was 20 and still unmarried. She was a high asset in the marriage market.

Her parents kept her unmarried to secure the best possible match for her. (Y/N) knew she would be sold to the highest bidder. What if she was forced to be engaged to a man 30 years her senior? It was a common occurrence. Giving her all to a man possibly edging on erectile dysfunction displeased her. Why should that matter, she thought. Sex was only meant for reproduction anything else is a sin. She did not know what her fate would be, but she did know she was tired of waiting. Was the Lord's daughter tired of waiting, too, (Y/N) wondered. The Lord's daughter was not the only woman in high society who had lusted after an Eldian man. Once at a ball (Y/N) had hidden in a closet to take advantage of their drunken state and over here all the scandalous things they would say.

The group of women had a reputation for being distasteful. (Y/N) had even heard that they practice witchcraft. She was so excited to hear about their mystically depraved lives, but she heard something different. Sex!

Each woman went around and announced a man they'd wished to bed. Some admitted they wanted to bed each other's fathers, brothers, and husbands. Every man the woman named was forbidden.

"I'd love to have mad passionate sex with Willy Tybur," one woman admitted

(Y/N) could not help but shudder in disgust Ew. That man looked like a snake!

"Oh, so you would have sex with an Eldian?" Another woman said, shocked. A third woman chimed in

"I absolutely would fuck Zeke Yeager."

Most of the women couldn't help but agree. Zeke Yeager, the beast titan ?? How could they be attracted to such an Eldian demon? She had never seen Zeke in human form but once witnessed his titan. It was nothing short of someone's worst nightmare, evil red eyes. Eyes like a devil ! she thought.

"I wonder how large his cock is"

"I think the strongest man in all of Marley has to have a large cock” a woman said as she slurred her words due to being drunk.

The women erupted in laughter. "He must get so much pussy”

"I actually heard he’s quite a prude and aloof."

"Oh, Boo!"

"I'd suck his cock any day."

Regardless of how much she thought these women's fantasies were hedonistic and vile! Her pussy could not help but throb. Since she was a teenager (Y/N had always felt constantly aroused. While growing up, she befriended maid girls around the same age as her. (Y/N) would convince the girls they had to "practice" with each other to prepare for intimate moments with their future husbands. She loved fondling the maid's girl's breast as she kissed their soft lips. (Y/N) had even convinced them to play with themselves in front of her. Unbeknownst to the girls (Y/N) would also be under the sheets playing with her wet cunt. (Y/N) adamantly had convinced herself this was all for her future husband. She liked to tell herself she was not enjoying this but practicing. She was a great lady of the house by offering to teach other girls. She wasn't compromising her virtue in any way. She'd only have her husband be the one to touch her in her sweet private parts. Soft whimpers, moans, and their sweet wet spilling pussies the way they kiss her neck while they circle her little nums.

She "constantly" reminded herself she was not into any of that. These girls were just helpful, and she was equally beneficial back. Using all she knew from her Romance novels about how to "practice," She had helped three maids throughout her teenage years. The Last one is an Eldian girl. (Y/N) was curious. The girl, adorable, will probably be a mistress to an aristocrat in no time. At first, when she heard that an Eldian had been hired at her parent's estate. She was naturally disgusted. How could they let such a wench be employed and in the same room as her? In all her 18 years, she had never encountered an Eldian person. Other than when she laid eyes on that beast, Zeke Yeager. She vowed to stay away from the girl. This girl may have been beautiful on the outside. She was probably just as evil as the rest of her people.

As time went along, (Y/N) boredom sprung up again. This girl was sweet and gentle. This Eldian girl's lips were just as tender as others. Her breasts felt just as soft, and her pussy worked in all the same ways. And when (Y/N) sucked on her nipples, her moans and whimpers sounded similar.

For the next two years (Y/N) had started to doubt what she had been taught about the Eldians. She later concluded that maybe it was just the men who were cruel, forcing their poor wives into submission. Marleyan men, too, could be so abusive to their wives. An Eldian man's treatment probably far outweighed the cruelty of that of any Marleyan. That made the most sense to (Y/N). But if that were true, how could the noblewoman sent to the asylum have such a passionate love affair with an Eldian man? Was she starved for affection? Did she become desperate enough to become lovers with an Eldian man? What had made Eldians and Marleyan such bitter enemies for centuries anyways?

She knew that her family, for over three millennia, had been enemies and rivals with the Fritz clan.

Her ancestors had written first-hand accounts of the Eldian royal family passed down through generations.

She wanted to know the truth! Were Eldian people devils? or was that all just lies?

(Y/N) spent her time deep in her ancestor's stored archives studying Eldian history and literature. They had such a vast, rich history. She never knew she could love history and research on people who were supposedly devils.

Eldian people were just people like anyone else, men, women, and children. (Y/N) concluded.

She chose to focus more of her studying on the Eldian monarchs. Their cruel kings had forced them into centuries of violence and terrorism against the world. They were the true devils!

The Fritz family had been oppressive, ruling all with an iron fist. They even tortured and subjected their own people. She learned they would take mistresses from all over the world, whether the women consented to it or not. These Kings were only allowed to take a mistress if he could fully provide for all her needs. Back then, Eldian society had thought a woman's orgasm was imperative for conception. These kings were cruel yet remarkable at pleasing a woman in all her needs.

(Y/N) was brought up believing that sex was for the man's pleasure only. Sex is basically considered a necessary evil to make heirs. Women were not meant to enjoy the intensity of sex but to lay back and do their duty for their country. (Y/N) jaw dropped when she realized the stark contrast in sexual relations.

In her mind, she thought of the Eldian kings as Hedons. She did not realize she was incredibly turned on. (Y/N) wanted to know more about these murderous, animalistic, lustful Eldian kings. She had to learn more!

The remaining accounts were, unfortunately, locked in a library in the Eldian internment zone. This Library had been closed to the public for over a hundred years. She wrestled with herself. She wanted so badly to go. The true danger would be in the Marleyan soldiers. She knew she'd have an easier time coming in than leaving. She decided then and that night to go to the Eldian internment zone (Y/N), snuck out, and took a late-night train. She looked out of the window, leaving the environment where she grew up. The train began moving faster, passing the most beautiful modern neoclassical architecture and mind-blowing Georgian landscapes.

As the train ride went on, the buildings became less and less stellar. It took over an hour to get across Libero. Till she finally reached the interment zone. The sky looked a bit cloudy. She noticed as she stepped out off the train. She looked over at the gates. Officers were guarding every corner of the entrance. It would be a scandal if she were to be caught going in. A High society Marleyan heiress conversing with the lowest of society. She had stolen her maid's armband and unique permission papers that granted her access to leave the internment zone. As she showed the soldiers her paperwork, she could not help but notice their faces of discontent. She was let in without a fuss. The weather betrayed her, and it started to rain.

After about an hour, she found the Library. There was a small window that (Y/N) snuggled into. It was dark and dusty. It looked as if many of these books had not been touched in decades. She passed multiple genres. Till she finally made it to the history section. (Y/N) found the area dedicated to Eldian Monarchs. She didn't know where to start. She glanced over hundreds of book titles until one caught her eye: Oral History: of The Sex Lives of the Eldian Kings. She pulled the book out of the shelf. It was covered in dust and cobwebs.

She started to open it when suddenly a large hand above her snatched the book out as soon as she opened the cover.

"These archives have been closed to the public for over 100 years, and trespassing is highly illegal and may even warrant a death sentence," A man's voice said from behind her.

(Y/N) turned around, a tall, broad-shouldered man stood in front of her. She was shocked; she couldn't even say a word. (Y/N) thought she was the only one here.

She didn't even hear this man come behind her. She noticed the man was wearing a tan Marlyean military uniform. Of course, a soldier, she thought, someone trained in espionage.

"Do you have special permission papers to be here? He glared down at her with only a foot space between them.

If so, I need you to show them to me before you proceed any further," He said with authority.

"Well, I," she trailed off, noticing his eldian armband.

It wasn't yellow like the others but red, so he must be a warrior, a titan shifter. She grabbed his arm for further inspection to confirm what she was seeing. She looked up at the man. He stared back at her with annoyance waiting for her to speak. She could not help but notice an oval face with high cheekbones and a square-shaped jaw. His mid-sized muscular frame. He had golden skin and hair. And his eyes were large & blue. He is exceptionally handsome. This must be him. This must be the beast titan. She expected to see a devil, but she could only see a beautiful, alluring man staring back at her. He had such a sweet mouth that she could not help but admire them. She was in disbelief. As a result, she reached up and placed her hand on his thick lips. He interrupted her deep thoughts.

"Can I have my arm back now?

She was still holding a tight grip on him.

Are you going to speak or just stare at me all day?" he said in a low, threatening tone.

The utter embarrassment had finally pushed her to speak.

"Yes, hello, I'm a university student, and I was just doing a little research here. I am sorry I did not seek your permission before looking through the Library," (Y/N) said with a very shaken voice.

He studied her face. "May I ask what you are doing here as well?" she asked.

"I'm a part of a particular unit in the military. I was granted special access to these archives to study ancient titan history to improve Marlyean warfare."

He had a moment of silence, gathering his thoughts.

"As far as I know, I am the only person who has been granted permission to be here. Let me see your papers. "He had his hand out.

She pulled out her previous Eldian maid's papers and handed them to him" He smirked.

"You really expect me to fall for this? Do you think I am an idiot?" he chuckled slightly."

"Give me proof of your real identity, or I'll be forced to turn you in to the authorities, or I'll have to personally punish you myself."

Frightened about what could happen, she took out her actual Identification. And handed it to him. He let out a burst of roaring laughter.

"A Marleyan trying to lie about their identity and break into the Eldian internment zone! Usually, it's the other way around! I should have known. You even had your armband upside down! I thought it was because you were crazy! "

He found her amusing and kept humoring himself with her presence. He bent down inches to her face.

"What is a little rich girl like you doing here in the interment zone? Trying to get up to trouble?"

God, she had been hoping her prominent family's name would get her spared for trespassing. She felt exposed and incredibly vulnerable in front of this large man.

"No No I am no troublemaker! Just a student.

Why was she so nervous (Y/N) thought.

I really want to be a researcher. A real one! Without any unbiased beliefs, I'm just here to find books about the relations between Eldia and Marley. I dedicated an immense amount of time and research to the history of Eldia. It’s been a true passion of mine for the past two years. I hate that I was lied to my whole life about Eldians”.

She gasped and covered her mouth. Did she just commit treason? Will he think she’s a revolutionary? Why can’t she control herself around him?

“And” Zeke said toneless

“ Ummm, judging by the red armband."

She stammered through her words.

" You're a titan shifter; you must be Zeke Yeager. I know the other warriors are very young, but I've read the beast titan is almost the same age as me, so you must be him Am I right?"

She said, rambling with anxiety.

He backed away from her and looked into her eyes, carefully studying her thinking and what to say next.

"So you've heard of me," he said casually. He seemed arrogant and used to the praise.

"Of course, everyone has heard of you! You're Marley's wonderboy."

He grabbed the top of her soaking dress and pulled her so close their chests almost touched.

"I am not very impressed with flattery." So did you come to gawk at the devils like you're in a zoo? A girl like you has probably never even been this close to an Eldian man in your life. Well, take a good long look. This is what a devil looks like," Zeke stated in a sharp tone.

He seemed like he could care less about being polite.

"I have never been close to any man like this. Honestly, I completely sympathize with the Eldian commoners" He pushed her back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. There are Marlyean commoners too! Her racism had lessened over the years, But her classism did not. Her word vomit continued. This was awkward, and she could not help but feel utter embarrassment in front of this beautiful man.

"Follow me," Zeke cut her off. (Y/N) was quite unsure about going any further with this man. She stood there, looking at him, unsure what to do. Even being alone with a man was considered to compromise one's purity. She looked out the window, and it was thundering and hailing. She had zero chance of getting home even if she wanted to. He chuckled,

"You've gone mute again, I see."

Before she had time to respond, Zeke grabbed her hand and began taking her with him.

His basement was cozy. It looks as if Zeke had set up this room as his home away from home.

"you must be freezing. I'll start the fireplace." Afterward, Zeke started to hand her books and papers. The books, reports, and letters were priceless information.

She sat on the couch and Zeke at the table. She noticed he had a mini Library.

"Thank you so much! You're being so kind to me. Why?" (Y/N) said

"It's always a pleasant surprise to meet an unbiased researcher. You seem inquisitive and empathetic. We need more people with attributes like you in society," Zeke stated softly.

"What do you mean"

"Most people walk around like sheep believing everything and anything said to them." Zeke's complement could not help but make her quiver

His personality seemed to do a complete 180. He was warm now. Had he been testing her before? (Y/N) started looking through the books and documents he laid out for her while Zeke pulled out a Whiskey bottle.

Then handed a drink to her.

"Hmm, it tastes like top-shelf Whiskey, Yeager. You have great taste."

"Ah, you're not as innocent as I thought." he chuckled. Zeke got up and disappeared for a second. He returned with a towel and shirt.

"You probably want to put on dry clothes right now, and it looks like you won't get back home tonight. This is all I have to offer."

(Y/N) began to unbutton the top part of her soaking dress, Zeke could already feel his male member hardened, and she had not even revealed herself yet.

As she pulled down the front of her dress. Zeke did not mind seeing, but he wondered, was she this innocent? She probably only grew up around maids and nannies. He assumed she was probably used to changing and showing her body to her female household. She had no idea how to act in front of the opposite sex. His oversized shirt reached right above her thigh. Zeke could not help but look at how cute (Y/N) looked in his clothes. He noticed she wasn't wearing a bra.

Zeke could see her nipples were hard. He knew it was wrong but could not look away, and Whiskey started taking his mind to other places. In all his 20 years, Zeke had not wasted his time on trivial love pursuits. And that included sex. It was hard. But he did not need even the slightest chance of himself producing a child. And the last person he could ever get involved with is a wealthy heiress from a Marleyan family.

He knew the past of both Reiner and Annie. Both are a product of an illegal affair between a Marelyan and an Eldian. He knew Annie had been abandoned. Additionally, Renier's father wanted nothing to do with him, and his mother used him as a means to an end to get back at her lover and to receive an honorary Marlyean status. He felt nothing but deep remorse for his mixed raced comrades. It was already a painful life being Eldian, even more so being a child of royal blood or mixed race.

To Zeke being a royal-blooded child meant to be used as a tool, a weapon even more so than the typical Eldian. He thought being a product of mixed-race relations only ensured abandonment by one or both parents. He use to not get how people could purposely conceive unwanted children. He later realized people had primal instincts and needs that sometimes could not be completely controlled, even when the relations were detrimental to one's self. Zeke had started to have a taste of it himself.

Ever Since Zeke made a name for himself, All kinds of women and some men threw themselves at him. Whenever he'd be in different nations, he'd have secret light sexual encounters. It began at seventeen. He started by making out with women who were desperate for him. He did it more out of curiosity than pleasure. Well, that's what he likes to tell himself.

Over the years, it has only progressed into touching below the belt; finally, last year, he had his cocked sucked for the first time. It felt warm, wet, and intense. The feeling of a woman's mouth sliding up and down his shaft at the right speed. He loved becoming more sensitive and cumming in her warm wet mouth. Some of him loved the sensations; another was scared and reluctant to take the next step. If he were to impregnate someone, all his morals and life's work would be compromised.

"What inspired you to be into history and research (Y/N) asked.

"The previous beast titan devoted his life to research. He was like a surrogate father to me. Well, I continued his research to honor him." She sat on a thick blanket in front of the fireplace, reading each book's synopsis.

(Y/N) lifted her head to look at him, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. "That's incredibly sweet; oh, so that's how you acquired those historical documents on the Titans and the Fritz family," her speech became louder as she worked on her second glass of Whiskey.

"Well, yes, some from him and the others passed down through the generations of my mother's family. "I am surprised Marely didn't force him into battle like all the others." She rudely interrupted.

"Ah, he said his battle sheep was useless. "That's very shocking. You have managed to become Marley's number-one warrior with your abilities. I even heard you can turn Eldians into titans." She said somberly,

"Honestly, I think he used that as an excuse not to be on the battlefield."

"You don't sound impressed by my abilities ?."

"Being turned into a mindless titan is mental agony, well, from what I read."

A slight pang of guilt hit him. "Do you remember being a mindless titan"? Zeke brought a chair over in front of her.

"No, it all happened so fast" He wondered what type of information this girl had and where she got it. Zeke quickly changed the conversation.

So what kind of information are you trying to learn about these kings, like how they fucked? Her face lit up.

"There's, umm, a lot of important information in there.

"Like what? Learning what it's like to deep throat" He chuckled

as he ran his hand through his golden wavy hair.

"This is not the history of economics or medicine. It's about sex!" He exclaimed. He liked teasing this innocent girl.

"No, and I'd never be so amused with such a depraved act!" she said defensively.

"At Least try it first before making assumptions.

"So, have you ever done that thing ."

"Well, some parts of it."

"Sex is only for reproduction, Zeke!."

"Sweetheart, that's the last thing I would EVER want to do! Zeke said in between laughter.

"Stop laughing at me. I'm serious. It is a woman's use in this world."

"So much sexual shame. I understand why you think this way. Marriage for people like you is all about business and contracts, not sex or love. I should have guessed you're a Marelyan prim and proper princess, so of course, you'd be Prude" It's okay; I understand what it's like to be you somewhat."

Zeke stood up and began to pour himself another drink.

What do you mean? (Y/N) ran over to him in haste.

She was starting to feel the Whiskey.

"Your environment, your parents, feeding you propaganda so they can exploit and use your body for their own gain. I was reluctant, just like you, until I realized having sex is almost just like eating and sleeping you don't have to feel shame for your body and desires (Y/N)."

"Why are you judging me" she felt exposed.

"Aren't you doing exactly what you are accusing me of?" Letting others exploit and use you, why else would you be a warrior.?Sounds hypocritical to me.”

"Turning things around on me does not invalidate my argument. Have you ever even touched yourself?"

"NO"

He could not help but burst into laughter. Zeke could tell she was lying.

“Well, if you had, that makes you a hypocrite too.” Is this how most Maelyan princesses are?

I have committed many sins, and I still don't know whose life is worse, yours or mine."

She grew annoyed and angry.

"Well, what? You probably had sex with over 100 women, huh? I bet you’re a man slut, just like your ancestors Zeke (Y/N) said while laughing.

"What do you mean" His eyes began to widen. "Zeke, I know what blood can turn Eldians into titans. My ancestors constantly referenced your people and their abilities in their private letters. You know, all those eldian kings had bitches. They fucked all over the place," she giggled.

The alcohol had started to hit. Zeke's face turned to a frown. "I lived a life full of poverty and discrimination. If I had royal blood, don't you think I'd be living just as well, if not better than the Tyburs, maybe even you?".

" You're right, but I know the royal family hid after the great titan war. She threw back another glass of Whiskey. The drunker she became, the more her language and movement became uncouth.

" You hid, right? God, that all must have been very sad for your family. I feel awful for your parents being sent away," she said somberly.

Zeke's eyebrows lifted. "So you've been studying me too?"

"Just a Little bit. I was curious,"

He smirked “ (Y/N) I have no idea where you came to all these conclusions. You're drunk!"

She laughed. She had begun pouring them more drinks.

“You should lay off the booze,” Zeke stated

“What ever you say, your majesty,” (Y/N) giggled.

He scoffed

“ You don't believe me? Really? Of course because a poor eldian commoner usually always has not only priceless but even dangerous information if it falls into the wrong hands about the world's most influential family for nearly 2000 years. (Y/N) said sarcastically.

"The Blond hair, the blue eyes, you have your lineage written all over you!

He smirked and took another sip of Whiskey.

" Ahh, we both spoke too much tonight, didn't we? I am surprised that you are an actual researcher. Damn, you got me.

He started to light up a cigarette. His eyes bore into hers.

(Y/N) noticed he had become slightly angry again. He studied her every move like he'd do to an enemy on the battlefield. He then paused before speaking, strategizing what to say to her next.

"Based on that book you picked, I thought you were only interested in how eldian kings fucked their bitches."

"So you are not just a little fucking slut!" She didn't know what she had said to piss him off. She walked right over to him as he sat on the couch.

"How could you perceive me as such a dishonorable woman? She snarled.

She didn't care that he was Marley's most powerful man. She had to stand up and protect her virtues.

"I was looking at this book because there was a crucial part to my research that had NOTHING to do with the sex life of a man, not only just a man but an Eldian devil!" She was doing her best to lie.

She was so stupid. Why did she have to open her big fucking mouth?

Zeke smirked.

"So you just happened to be looking at a book about the Eldian royal family. And you, by coincidence, happen to meet one of their last descendants?? The only one left on Marley. You expect me to believe this ?"

He started to corner her against the wall.

"Are you a spy?"

She went silent

"Are you a fucking spy?" he said a little louder. His voice was not loud, but it still was intimidating.

"Of course not."

"Okay then, so if you're not a spy, you must be some kinky bitch with a race fetish."

He successfully managed to corner her back to the wall.

"Did you come all this way so I could fuck the shit out of you, right? That's what you want. You want to be conquered by an eldian king and fucked against your will, huh? That's what most kings did to those women. I guess you are not a sweet virgin Marleyan princess after all."

"No, that's not it at all. I had never even met an Eldian man before you, and I found you scary," I swear all of this is just strange coincidences."

He walked away from her, not saying one word. He pulled out an expensive bottle of Champagne. And handed her a glass. "Cheers to us for cohabitating in the same room without wanting to hurt each other like our ancestors did for thousands of years."

There's no way he was just over something so easy is this a trick, she thought.

"I'm sorry for anything I said that could have offended you. I am a naive girl who doesn't know what she is talking about," she said.

Zeke threw back all his wine. And looked her up and down. "You didn't say anything that offended me. Remember, I'm a warrior," He said while closing the distance between them and lifting her head with one hand. "I have killed many people, honey. It takes much more than some nosey bitch to affect me."

He kissed her like an animal. His mouth tasted of wine and cigarettes. Her body went into shock. She didn't and couldn't kiss him back. Her "practice" with the maids did not prepare her for a Man's taste. The girl's lips felt soft and sensual.

In contrast, this man's mouth felt built up of raw carnal desire. His strong arms began to squeeze her perky ass. Please," she said. "I'm sorry."

Her entire body came alive at his touch, both gentle and threatening. His hands fell away from her. They both struggle to catch their breath. She grabbed her wine and took a large gulp. He pinned her against the wall again. (Y/N) unconsciously kissed back.

She couldn't let this man ravish her.

"I'm sorry,” in between kisses.

She could feel his rock-hard cock against her And couldn't fight off his strong arms holding her hips in place.

"I could never forgive myself if I gave away my maidenhood before marriage. While gasping for breath.

"I could ruin everything my family has worked for" He looked down at her.

"What else am I to do then?"

The question caught her off guard.

"How about this? Let's make a deal. You've got two options "one, I either kill you, or two, break you in?"

She knew he wasn't lying.

“ hm, why no, uh,” she said softly, unable to form a sentence.

He's technically a mass murderer. Before she could respond adequately, He put a finger in her panties and then lightly on her lips. Zeke began to chuckle.

Aww, you're already soaked down here. Maybe you want me to the fuck the shit out of you (Y/N)."

She could only just stare into his deep blue eyes. (Y/N) felt conflicted and ashamed of herself.

She felt more shame and fear for how horny she felt than the actuality of losing her virginity to Zeke and not her future husband.

Before she could answer, he shut her up with a passionate kiss. And proceeded to take off her clothes. And pushed her back onto the couch. He laid on top of her nude body. While still having his warrior's uniform on. He went back to feverishly kissing her. She groaned indirectly with desire. He forced his tongue down her throat. She was struggling not to instinctively dry hump and kiss him back.

His body was so much larger than her feminine frame. Zeke continued to lay kisses down her body. He then finally made his face toward her part. He glared at her sex.

He took a finger and gently felt her lips. He stuck two fingers in her hole. When he took his fingers out of her, they were incredibly wet. How could this be her body betraying her?

Zeke slowly began to rub her clit. She begrudgingly let out a small moan. He began to speed up through her broken soft cries.

"Why are you doing this to me, Zeke?" she moaned.

"Why," Zeke said as he continued to play with her cunt.

Zeke knew he'd have to resort to all sorts of morality crimes the moment he inherited the beast titan; taking advantage of a woman was not one of them. He had to do it, he reasoned.

It's too late to jeopardize everything he worked for.

Zeke came to her ear as he continued pumping his large hand in and out of her warm pussy. "If word were to get out about my lineage, I would be forced to breed like cattle and watch my children being used as weapons of mass destruction."

"uhh," (Y/N) could not help but let out a pleasurable moan. I got you intoxicated, so you opened up to me, and I could figure out your motives. I don't think you're a spy (Y/N); you are just a naive virgin slut” "I'm sorry (Y/N). He forced his fingers in and out of her.

"So you're blackmailing me then ??!!" she let out a whimper. Zeke ignored her. He then sat (Y/N) on the couch in a regular position. He dropped down to his knees and pulled her lower body towards the opening of his mouth.

"What a sweet, obedient girl," he purred. He was delighted that (Y/N) opened her legs wide just for him. Zeke began teasing her, returning to her thighs and giving her great kisses. (Y/N) was so cute and sexy as she looked down nervously with desire. He wanted to show her good oral affection. Zeke gently and slowly kissed her labia. Then lightly licked her clit.

She had no idea what he was doing. She never imagined having a man's face in her crotch. It was mortifying. mouths and genitals? Good lord, how would she ever get past the shame around it? what was the purpose of this? She pees down here!

(Y/N) embarrassment and confusion started to vanish.

She let out a giggle. It tickled.

He buried his face into her crotch. Flickering his tongue around her throbbing clit as slowly as he could, he was in no hurry. Zeke was determined to make this situation as sexually pleasing for her as he could.

He pulled his face up to look at her. She was all over him “

(Y/N) your pussy taste so fucking good.”

She could not help but feel incredibly turned on by that remark. Zeke was no longer pinning her against the couch; she could get up and try to run. The tickling sensation was warmth and wetness. As his licking progressed, it felt heavenly. (Y/N) looked down and made eye contact with Zeke.

"fuck"

(Y/N) had begun to feel light butterflies in her stomach. Her first orgasm came unexpectedly. Her head fell back with immense pleasure; Zeke began to speed up the pace.

She threaded her fingers in between his golden locks. Zeke began to use his fingers once again. She tried her hardest to muffle her moans. She didn't want him to know she was enjoying every minute of him pleasuring her. He then began to tongue fuck her tight pussy. (Y/N) did not understand what was happening to her. Such a large amount of liquid began to pour off her cunt, down her legs, and onto Zeke's face. Who knew this could feel so amazing.

Zeke would moan as he continued to make out with her sweet cunt. She bucked her hips for more. She was going to keep fucking this smug bastard's mouth until she could not anymore. Her build-up continues to get higher and higher. At this point, she could not cover up her sweet moans. . Zeke could tell by her whimpers and moans that her climax was soon. Sucking and licking her, savoring her taste. (Y/N) let out a scream.

And released her cum all over Zeke's face. She struggled to catch her breath. She looked at Zeke in between her legs. He smiled and then started to take off his uniform Till she could see everything about him. Tall, muscular, and with plenty of abs. He stood right in front of her as she sat in the same position on the couch.

"Come to the edge of the couch," he demanded. She was to face Zeke's dick. Huh, those ladies had been right about suspecting it was big, she thought, "Suck on it" She was too far in and obliged to his command,

"the head. Slowly circle with your tongue (Y/N)" The tip is very soft. She licked lower, beneath the head, down one side of the shaft, and then the other. "Grab my shaft tightly with your hands, push back and forth while sloppy sucking my head. She liked having his part in her mouth too.

" He knew he had to instruct her. He grabbed her hair and made her look up at him while in action. He started to buckle his hip fucking her mouth. He moaned, "You like it, huh? you like being my little concubine, my whore! "

Stop," he said. Had she done something wrong, she thought, "Lay back down on the blanket in front of the fireplace and spread your legs." He demanded. " (Y/N) nervously did as Zeke commanded.

Zeke lay on top of her. He could not help but feel aroused by feeling her petite body underneath his large frame. He grabbed her face. “You are hardly putting up a fight (Y/N). It surprised her as well. Zeke pushed himself in between her legs fully. He lined his rock-hard cock to her cunt. . "Please pull out once you're finished.

"Why?" he said with lust in his eyes.

"Because I could get pregnant."

"Maybe I want to get you pregnant."

He pressed against her hymen and shoved himself in her all at once.

Their sloppy, sweaty bodies connected to someone for the first time. Zeke slowly thrust himself all the way into her wet warm tight pussy. He let out a deep sigh and slightly lowered himself. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he said in a low, breathy tone had barely been inside and felt he could spill himself at any moment. He began to thrust in and out of her. (Y/N) wrapped her arms instantly across Zeke's shoulders. "Oh my god, "she said in a low, breathy tone.

She could feel his long shaft hitting up her G spot. (Y/N) could not help but look Zeke straight in the face as he demolished her cunt. His facial expressions turned her on. The more Zeke shoved, the more her juices burst out of her. She began whimpering. Zeke enjoyed fucking and conquering this sweet innocent little girl's pussy. He could feel her walls clenching around him and started to climax

"I'm gonna cum," he said.

“Pull out, please.”

He kept pumping her pussy. The panic on her moaning face satisfied him. "Beg more."

Zeke never wanted to get anyone pregnant; however, he'd do anything to reach his goal. Well, that's what he told himself. It felt too good. He didn't think he could be stopped.

“Oh my God, it's coming again,” (Y/N) moaned. She climaxed

His thrusts became more frequent and uncouth, and he let out his large load in her pussy. When he looked down and saw his milky white cum and blood in between her thighs, Zeke was still inside her, exhausted from their excursion. He secretly loved successfully spoiling this girl for the rest of her life.

Zeke stood up, got a wet-washed cloth, and wiped both of their private parts. He picked her up, laid her back on the couch, and then disappeared for fifteen minutes. Y/N) really hated to admit it, but it was incredible. Her body felt amazing during and after sex.

He brought in a warm cup of tea and a large blanket. She looked worried. (Y/N) looked up at his soft gaze.

" We are even now okay. You don't have to worry anymore." Zeke said quietly

She looked up into his eyes. “ Was I as good as the others?’

Zeke couldn't help but laugh. He assumed she'd be distressed about losing her virginity instead.

“ You are amazing (Y/N). I have to go now. Please remember to stay out of trouble. He stood up and kissed her forehead, and left.

#zeke yeager #zeke yeager fanfiction #zeke thirst #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager x you #zeke jeager x reader #zeke jeager #zeke jaeger smut #zeke jaeger x you #aot #snk #snk smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

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trentaafcsblog · 3 years ago

Text

Midnight Memories

Mason Mount

This isn’t like him at all. Trapped in a crowd of drunk and disorderly people who are staggering around to the beat of the music, sloshing their drinks all over one another when the pink and purple strobe lights descend upon their bodies and start flashing in a series of random patterns, enhancing their alcohol-induced illusions and perceptions of the world as they flail their limbs around and claim they’re flying or walking on clouds - a stage that Mason isn’t willing to reach tonight, or any night, for that matter.

A sea of girls in overly tight dresses and heels that barely support them crowding around him and slurring things in his ear. Running their fingers up his bare arms and begging for another drink as he awkwardly shakes his head and tries to break away from them, only for another person to grip onto him from the other side and smear their cheap sticky lipgloss all over his neck in an attempt to add ‘I kissed a footballer’ to their CV. “Just kiss meee” they whine, pouting in his face and trying to pull him closer before giving up and making a move on the next available man, one who’s willing to explore their mouths and buy them endless rounds of multicoloured shots for the rest of the night without gently shoving them away or not-so-subtly avoiding their alcohol-coated lips.

This isn’t your type of place either, although you’re five cocktails deep into the stack of pornstars that your friends insisted on ordering. A stain down the front of your white bodycon dress thanks to an escapee half a passion fruit that decided to leave your triangular glass in order to explore the vomit-tainted floor. Your lips all patchy now that your lipgloss has migrated to decorate the rim of your empty glasses with sparkly nude smudges, although you’re slightly relieved because it means that your hair won’t get coated in it anymore, and it minimises the evidence if you end up kissing someone too, not that you came here to do that, or risk putting yourself in the same category as the girls that are now trying to climb into the VIP section with a bunch of semi-famous people, all because they want a drunk kissing video to plaster across their social media, hoping that it takes them to the front of the papers in the morning for being such-and-such’s ‘mystery girl’.

You’re looking up at the VIP area cordoned off by security guards in black puffer jackets and walkie talkies in their hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy for all of the people that have to tolerate that kind of behaviour. Your eyes start scanning across the section of the club that is far too expensive for just a few hours’ stay, wondering if you can recognise any famous faces, but it’s just the ‘I lasted one day in the Villa and still managed to secure a Pretty Little Thing brand deal’ Love Islanders and the friend of the friend of the friend of a semi-professional footballer that made one twelve minute appearance for Arsenal back in 2010 and thinks he’s God’s gift. All of them either eating each other’s faces or taking boomerangs of them cheers-ing their margaritas before having to retake the same video five times because they’ve lost several lime slices in the process and it’s ruining the aesthetic. Your focus sharpening on someone with their back to you and at least ten girls around them, taking it in turns to have a drunken selfie or begging him to buy them a bottle of champagne with one of those fancy sparkler things on the top that gets brought out by women wearing elaborate carnival-inspired feather headbands and very revealing dresses. And you can’t help but feel sorry for him because you can tell just from the back of his head that he’s incredibly uncomfortable, even more so when he gets offered a blowjob from a girl who’s now threatening to get her boobs out in exchange for a whole bottle of Don Julio, in a bucket of ice, just how she likes it.

He’s turning around to face the rest of the club just as you go to look away at the menu that’s being wafted under your nose by one of your friends, and you can’t help but do a double take at his familiarity. Squinting your eyes so that you can get a better look at his features. ‘Nice drink’ you think when your eyes catch the glass of Diet Coke in his hand, quite obviously not accompanied by a swig of vodka going by his incredibly tense frame and stiff dance moves. Well, it’s not really dancing, it’s more of a ‘I’ll just copy what my friends are doing so I don’t look awkward’ move, aka a two-step shuffle from one side to the other. You can’t help but giggle as you watch him from across the room, your friends completely giving up on trying to entice you with a selection of expensive cocktails as they leave you to stare at some random man on the other side of the club, their need for a second stack of bright coloured drinks clearly overriding the want to look out for their friend.

You’re watching him for a bit longer. Becoming completely fixated on this familiar stranger who you can’t help but sit and giggle at. Part of you wanting to cringe with him at how hellish this night has become, but at the same time, it’s kind of funny watching someone who should be so used to having a large following blush and laugh awkwardly if anyone happens to recognise him. Okay, maybe it’s slightly uncomfortable to sit and watch a swarm of girls attack him with their overdrawn lips whilst he does everything in his will to not shove them into next week, especially when his friends start laughing and taking little videos of the awkward encounters, clearly ready to embarrass him at a later date. But regardless, it’s nice to know that fame hasn’t gone completely to his head, unlike an ex-reality TV star who’s screaming ‘do you know who I am?’ at one of the bouncers who won’t let her hang out with her ‘friends’ in the VIP section.

But you’re quickly forced out of your trance when you feel somebody shoving something into your hand. Looking down at your palm and clocking the ten pound note before your eyes are lifting to the hand that it’s been given from. “Go and get us those cocktails” your friend slurs before slumping back in her seat and falling to one side slightly, her pink lipstick slathered all over her chin from where she’d tried to apply it without a mirror when a man wearing an extremely tight fitting top happened to settle down in the booth next to you, obviously hoping that he’d look her way. “Hurry up, I’m thirstyyy” your other friend whines, making you sigh and mutter something under your breath in reference to them being lazy and ruining your evening, as you slide out of the row of pink arched seats and stand up. Having to grip onto the back of the chairs when your legs go all warm and fuzzy from the one too many cocktails you’d already consumed, pulling your dress down to a more appropriate length before heading off in the direction of the bar. Trying to catch a glimpse of Mason as you swerve in and out of the sea of dancing bodies, but you just end up feeling as though you’re going to fall to the floor when the strobe lights start spinning on the ceiling before dispersing their blue and green beams around the room at the most ridiculous speed. Everybody around you swaying from side to side and elbowing you in the ribs as you try your best to dodge them, kicking yourself for wearing the most stupid pair of heels as your toes crush into each other more and more with each step, cursing when you skid in a puddle of what looks like - or at least you hope is - vodka, and you have to grab onto a stranger’s arm to steady yourself, much to their dismay until they catch a glimpse of your apologetic face and suddenly want to make out with you.

You’re breathing a sigh of relief when you finally make it to the bar, setting your bag down on the counter and ordering what you think your friends want, although you probably should have double-checked with them first considering you were too busy having a nosy at someone across the club to pay any sort of interest to their alcohol preferences. “What?” you’re shouting at the barman when he tells you the total of the drinks, hoping that you’ve misheard him but ten pounds clearly isn’t going to cover the cost of sixteen cosmopolitans with added shots of vodka. Panicking when he repeats the price and turns his back to get started on making them, your hands now frantically searching your bag in the hope that you manage to find the extra money before he starts yelling at you for ordering things without being able to pay. “Fuck” you’re hissing as you turn the contents of your bag out onto the countertop, checking the inside of your phone case and a pressed powder incase they happen to house the remaining money. Your heartbeat pounding louder in your ears the closer it gets to having to admit that you’ve actually only got a quarter of what you need.

“I’ll get it” someone’s saying, clearly sensing the tension between you and the barman as you shrug your shoulders in response to him sticking his hand out for the money. “I’m not a charity” you snap back, your slightly tipsy state giving you a rush of confidence as you continue to search your bag in the hope that the money has magically appeared just so that you can laugh it off and shut everyone up. “I know, but it’s on me” they’re saying again, leaning forward and tapping their card on the machine before you can even consider fighting back a second time. “Thank-” you’re starting before realising who it is that’s just saved you from an incredibly awkward situation. Surely not. Surely Mason Mount hasn’t just bought you, of all people, a load of cocktails for your mates.

“It’s okay” he laughs nervously, making your heart melt because clearly he’s just as awkward around you as he is everybody else in this club. “Prices have gone up, haven’t they?” he smiles as he takes a step closer to you, propping himself up on the countertop with his elbows before asking the barman for a lemonade, with ice, just so it isn’t too fizzy. “Yeah, I don’t normally come out so I underestimated it a bit” you laugh shyly before looking off in the other direction, simultaneously cursing and thanking your friends for leading you to believe that you could get sixteen cocktails for a tenner, because without their stupidity, you wouldn’t be talking to the boy that you’ve been watching all night. “Prefer to stay at home then?” he asks as you turn back and nod your head. “Me too” he’s saying, “I’m normally in bed by now” he giggles as his gaze rises to the clock above the bar, the time reading 00.04am. The slight dark glow under his eyes letting you know that he’s normally tucked up by 9pm in his pyjamas. “What are you doing here then?” you ask. Stupid question really. He’s here for the same reason that you, and probably half of the people here, are - he’s been dragged along and forced to pretend that he’s a right party animal whilst he sips his non-alcoholic drinks and fights off every woman in sight. “My mates made me tag along, I’m kind of glad they did now though” he’s telling you, the second part of his sentence almost becoming inaudible as his voice quietens just as the volume of the music rises with the chorus of ‘My Yé Is Different’, ironic since you’ve just spotted the twenty grand watch decorating his wrist whilst you’re stood there in a passion fruit stained dress. But you’re still managing to hear it, and you can’t work out whether that’s in reference to you, or the fact that he’s been able to drink fizzy drinks when he’d normally only have water. Except you’re not stupid.

“Bet you say that to everyone” you tease, gaining his attention again as he laughs nervously and shakes his head. “Only the special ones” he replies, which is true, but now you can’t help but wonder if his drinks have been accompanied by a few shots of something or another because those words and the sincerity of his tone aren’t a reflection of the awkward man you spotted ten minutes ago, let alone the fact that he clearly considers you to be one of these ‘special ones.’ “Yeah, yeah” you’re saying back, flicking your hair over your shoulder before taking a sip of one of the cocktails that are sat before you, still waiting to be taken back to your friends. “Got quite a few drinks for somebody that doesn’t go out much, no wonder you needed me to pay” he winks as you roll your eyes and blush at the thought of somebody having to give you a helping hand with the price. “This is my last one, I’m off in a minute cose I can’t keep up with everyone else” you’re shouting over the music, watching him throw his head back and laugh because he thought he was the only one in that position. “I’ll join you” he’s replying, thanking the barman for his drink before taking a sip through the straw. “Not the sort of thing you say to a girl after only knowing her two minutes, Mason” you’re teasing, studying his face as his eyes blow wide slightly and he shakes his head, quickly swallowing his lemonade before stuttering on his words. Unsure whether he’s panicking about you jokingly misinterpreting his comment, or if he’s uncomfortable over the fact that yet another girl knows his name, but either way, he’s laughing awkwardly when you tell him that you’re only messing.

“I wouldn’t mind though” you say smugly, causing another nervous giggle to escape his lips. Your alcohol-induced confidence only adding to the butterflies that are already batting their wings against his rib cage, something about your slight feistiness and sarcastic sense of humour attracting him to you, even more so when he takes in how beautiful you still look despite being on the verge of your alcohol limit.

“Where are you going afterwards?” he’s asking once the lights have swivelled around in the opposite direction and the blush on his cheeks isn’t so evident. “I’ll just go to the chippy down the road and then get a taxi home” you’re telling him, looking down into the fluorescent pink concoction in your glass and feeling your stomach churn at how rough it’s going to make you feel in the morning. “Mind if I join you?” he’s asking as you look across at him in disbelief, watching as he downs the last few sips of his drink and stands the glass back on the countertop. Is this a dream or something? “Sorry, that was a bit forward...again” he panics, feeling a surge of anxiety run through his body incase he’s greeted with newspaper headlines in the morning about him unintentionally trying to latch onto girls that aren’t interested in him, even if half of the club know his name.

“No, it’s fine, of course you can” you laugh, your cocktail glass almost slipping out of your grip thanks to the layer of sweat that is now developing across your palm. “I’ll just take these over to the girls and then I’ll be ready” you smile, looping the strap of your bag over your shoulder and grabbing as many glasses as you can, which really isn’t a wise move since you’ve partially lost all sense of coordination thanks to Mason’s ability to wipe any drop of confidence out of your body and replace it with nervous butterflies.

“I’m off” you’re announcing once you’ve made your third trip back to the booth your friends are sitting in, their drunken reactions to your words making you giggle as you reach over them to grab your jacket. “Where are you goinggg?” one of them whines, gripping onto your leg and pouting before another one is drawn to the verge of tears at your confession. “I’m just tired” you nod, blowing them all a kiss and ensuring that they text you when you’re home as you turn around and head off towards the exit, not wanting to keep Mase waiting any longer. Praying that he’s stood just around the corner outside as he’d promised as you stagger across the dance floor and dodge a sea of flailing limbs and slurred shouts of ‘can I get your number?’. A sigh of relief forcing itself out of your nostrils when the ‘exit’ sign hanging above one of the fire doors becomes within touching distance and the bouncer in charge anticipates your departure, pushing down the grey bar across the middle of the door and letting it swing open, enabling you to step out into the night.

“There you are” you smile as you approach the back of his figure, his head kept down and a cap adding a nice accessory to his outfit, although it’s definitely worn as some form of disguise. “Hi” he’s smiling nervously when he realises that it’s you, a swarm of butterflies invading his tummy again when you link your arm through his and gently rest your head on the top of his shoulder - a move that you’re aware might push you into the same category as the other girls that have been after him all night, but your crippled feet and wobbly legs are grateful for the extra stability, even if your motivation to make that move takes you both by surprise.

“Let me get this” you’re saying once you’ve made your way into the kebab shop, your arm dropping away from his as you gesture towards the table up against the front window. “You sure?” he’s asking, dipping his hand into his back pocket ready to pull his wallet out just incase, but you’re nodding and confirming that you’re more than capable of paying four-pound-fifty for a kebab and a couple of drinks - just as well really after the events earlier this evening. Giving him a small smile as he turns and heads off towards the table in the corner, his celebrity instincts kicking when he takes the seat right in front of the glass, conveniently covered by a sticker of the menu, and some extra protection offered from the back of his body.

You’re setting the gold foam kebab box down on your table for two, along with two plastic forks, a bottle of water and a Fruit Shoot because you noticed him eyeing them up in the fridge when you came in. And it turned out to be one of the hardest decisions of your life trying to work out what flavour he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol that was messing with your brain, making you think that he was more of an citrus guy than a berry one. Or maybe it was the fact that you were buying a child’s drink for a fully grown adult, a famous one too, who probably hasn’t had one for ten years, which only added to the pressure. Or maybe it was because you liked him and you didn’t want to ruin your chances by getting him the wrong flavour. But after flicking your gaze between the stack of bright coloured bottles and his body cowering away in the corner, you settled for the blackcurrant one, just because he looks like the type of person to play it safe - well, he is the type of person to play it safe, going by his Diet Coke and lemonade choices tonight.

“This for me?” he’s asking as he picks the purple bottle up, smiling when you nod to confirm his answer. “How did you know this was my favourite flavour?” he’s questioning, a smug look appearing on your face as you shrug your shoulders and reply with ‘only the ‘special ones’ know that kind of information’. A giggle escaping his mouth at your words before he’s pulling the plastic lid off the drink and taking a sip, humming at the familiarity despite not having one since his seventh birthday party. “Still as good as they used to be” he’s saying, something about the additional happiness that’s now surging through his body after a drop of blackcurrant juice making your tummy fill with butterflies because he really is just the cutest, biggest child.

You’re both sitting in a comfortable silence as you pick at your shared kebab, trying to eat from separate ends so that you don’t cross any boundaries or run the risk trying to stab your forks into the same piece of chicken. But the fuzzy filter that the alcohol has brought to your eyes and the slight delay that it’s caused between your thoughts and your actions means that you find yourself diving into the last piece of pitta bread just at the same time that Mason does. And from his side it’s a poor judgement call. The sugar from his Fruit Shoot clearly giving him an extra boost of energy and causing his arm to extend outwards towards the polystyrene box, clouding his mum’s reminder that ‘you need be a gentleman and let girls eat whatever’s left, even if you want it’. And truth be told, he doesn’t really want it, which is why the pang of anxiety as soon as his plastic fork clashes with yours is stronger than ever. His cheeks turning a violent shade of crimson as he quickly pulls his fork back, leaving just four little holes from where the prongs had been as you panic and do the same.

“Sorry, no you have it” he says quietly, nudging the box towards you in the hope that you get the hint. “No, you eat it” you smile, pushing it back towards him. The two of you just repeating the same movement as the box moves two centimetres one way, and then two centimetres back the other. “Mason, just eat it!” you whine as he sits opposite you and shakes his head. “I said you could have it” he smiles nervously, subtly wiping the sweat off his palms and onto the material of his jeans when he realises that you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Why are you getting all nervous for? Just eat ittt” you groan, a giggle escaping his lips because there’s no way you’re backing down on this one. “Fine” he huffs, stabbing his fork back into the little holes that it made earlier before slowly moving it towards his mouth. Your eyebrows raising more and more as you watch it edge closer to his lips. And then he’s doing the unthinkable and quickly changing the direction of his fork so that it starts heading towards your mouth instead. Involuntarily parting your lips whilst you wait for what’s just happened to register, and the next thing you know, you’re swallowing the piece of pitta bread.

“What a fuss about nothing” he hums as you roll your eyes at him. “You’re quite romantic, aren’t you?” you tease as his eyebrows furrow in the middle, waiting for you to clarify your comment. “Is that all of the alcohol that’s made you so desperate to share the last piece of food with me?” you question, another layer of blush painting itself across the tops of his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t have anything to drink, did you? Lightweight” you smirk, making him roll his eyes this time. “I’m just being a gent, plus you’ve been drinking so you need something to sober you up, maybe it’ll stop you being so rude next time I offer to buy you a drink” he says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. A wave of composure washing over him now that he’s left you slightly speechless and he’s matched your sense of humour. “Next time? You’ll be lucky” you sass as he scoffs at you. “You’re the one that needs to buy me a drink to apologise for snapping at me, so there will be a next time to call it quits, thank you” he smiles, his sudden burst of confidence talking to you allowing his real personality to shine through, and you can’t help but start to get lost in it. “Was I really that rude?” you ask, secretly dying as you think back to your ‘I’m not a charity’ comment at the bar. “No, I’m just messing” he laughs, eliciting the same response from you as you erase that memory out of your brain. “You’re just confident, I like it” he’s saying, the last part of his comment getting lost when a group of people come staggering through the door, drowning out his words for the second time tonight, but you’re ninety-nine percent certain you managed to catch it. And now you’re the nervous one.

You’re quickly moving the conversation on to something else when you feel your chest starting to heat up with anxious prickles. Mason going all funny inside because it’s clear that he has the same effect on you as you do him, but he’s trying to push that to the back of his mind as he listens to you rambling on about your favourite breed of dogs, and how you had a fish finger sandwich for tea before you came out tonight, and how you actually know quite a lot about football but you’re reluctant to bring it up because you don’t want to embarrass him, although your drunken state causes you to let a few football facts slip out, all of them relating to Mase but you’re too caught up in your fuzzy alcoholic state to even recognise. But he does, obviously. Finding it sweet how you know exactly how many appearances he’s made for Chelsea, and what minute he came on in his debut against Manchester United, and what colour boots he wore against last season’s match against Newcastle. Just sitting back and letting you talk in between the occasional swig of water, hardly being able to get a word in edgeways because the alcohol is well and truly running through your veins now, making you come out with all kinds of mismatched comments and slurs. But he doesn’t mind, which takes him by surprise a bit, especially as he’s secretly scared of drunk people and he can count the amount of times he’s felt a bit tipsy on one hand, but there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s your sense of humour and how you’ve got him in stitches, or how your drunken state leads you to be more concerned about the welfare of a stray cat outside than it does anything else on the planet, or maybe it’s how deep beneath that strong outer shell you’re protecting yourself with that he knows you’ve got a heart of gold, an inside of ‘pure mush’ as his mum would say.

“What time is it?” you slur after knocking back your last swig of water. “Nearly one o’clock” Mason’s replying, glancing at his overly-expensive watch as you sit there and wonder how he actually knows what hour of the day it is when all of the numbers have been replaced by diamonds. “Better head off” you mumble, staring blankly into the empty kebab box and trying to process what move you need to make next in order to get yourself back home in one piece. “I’ll order you a cab if you want, or I’ll walk you back, I don’t know how far away you live” he’s saying, forcing you out of your trace as you look up at his tired, bloodshot eyes. Knowing full well that as soon as you’re gone he’ll be running home to bed with a glass of water to tone down the bubbles in his tummy from his fizzy drinks, paranoid incase they give him a fizzy version of a hangover. “I live about half an hour away and I can tell you’re ready for bed so I’ll go with the cab” you smile, making him giggle nervously at the fact that his tiredness has been uncovered, although it’s not difficult to pick up on the fact that the only other time he stays up this late is on New Years Eve, and even then he normally sets an alarm for 11.57pm so that he can wake up from his nap in time.

You’re letting him help you put all of your belongings back into your handbag after you insisted on showing him your favourite lipgloss midway through your earlier conversation. Linking your arm through his and stepping out into the coldness of the night, a breeze nipping across your legs and causing you to let out a little squeal as you start pulling your dress down to try and hide your goosebumps. “Here” Mason’s saying, taking his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders. “Mase” you’re replying. Mase - he likes that, and he likes how naturally it’s left your mouth too. Trying to give it back to him but he’s adamant that you keep it. “Gives me another reason to see you in order to get it back” he winks, making you roll your eyes as you stand snuggled into his side on the edge of the pavement.

“Did you want my number?” he’s asking, already taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it out in your direction before you even have chance to respond. “You’ve not really given me an option have you?” you laugh, making him giggle as he shuffles awkwardly from side to side, waiting for your digits to appear on the screen. “Only because I need to give your jacket back, there’s no other reason for this” you tell him, smiling as he nods his head but you both know that’s a little white lie. “There you go” you’re saying, passing his phone back to him as his eyes study the new contact in his hand. A new number written beneath Y/N.

‘Shit’ he’s thinking. He didn’t even ask for your name before this. Awkward.

“Pretty name” he smiles, trying to play it off cool, but you’re not drunk enough to not notice his mistake. “So pretty that you didn’t even know that’s what I was called until now” you reply, making him giggle and let out an awkward ‘oops’. “I’ll let you off this once” you’re saying as you look up at him stood beneath the lamppost that’s towering above the two of you. A golden glow adding a filter to his face and making him look even more gorgeous than he did when he was sipping his lemonade in the club and shoving lettuce and chicken into his mouth. And you’re desperate to just kiss him, especially since he’s got a bit of dried Fruit Shoot in the corner of his mouth and you know his lips will taste all sweet like they do in the movies. But considering he’s only just learnt your name you don’t think it’s the right time, and there’s also a bunch of Tottenham fans making their way up the street, not wanting to have to make him endure any teasing, especially when he’s already stayed up late in a part of town he wouldn’t usually be seen dead in to spend time with you.

“Thanks for tonight” you whisper as you briefly rest your head on his shoulder, pulling it away when the taxi he’s ordered for you appears at the side of the curb. “My pleasure, thank you” he’s saying back, removing his protective hand from the small of your back and stepping forward to open the back door of the car for you. “Told you that you were a gent” you tease as he mumbles ‘shut up’ and pretends to shove you into the back seat with a giggle. “See you soon for that jacket, yeah?” he winks as you reply with ‘yeah yeah, whatever’, making him let out a little chuckle as he closes the door on you. Giving you an awkward little wave as you head off down the street, standing and waiting for your car to turn the corner before heading home himself. Leaving just a message of ‘thank you again, can’t wait to get my jacket back cose it’s freezing without it ;) x’ that’s just appeared on your screen connecting the two of you. And even if you have been slightly tipsy tonight and now can’t remember half of the things you spoke about, there genuinely doesn’t seem like a better person to sit in a kebab shop with in the early hours of the morning after stumbling across him by pure chance a club that neither of you particularly wanted to spend the night at. Thanking your lucky stars for allowing your paths to cross because you already know this is the start of something special. Very special.

#mason mount #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #football blurb #football imagine #dominic calvert lewin #jadon sancho #ruben loftus cheek #marcus rashford #ben chilwell #dele #jesse lingard #tyrone mings #james maddison #trent alexander arnold

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watevermelon · 4 years ago

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Same Old Love | Kaeya (Genshin) x Traveler!Reader

✧ Summary: Kaeya was mysterious in every way that made you wary. From the gleam in his eye to how easy it was for him to flirt, it made you wonder how much he was presenting was truly real. Not wanting to get sucked in, you swore not to fall for the Cavalry Captain. At least, that was the plan, right? ➳ Notes: Angst with a happy ending ➳ A/N: Thank you so much for the ask!! This was fun to write ((I feel like I write so much angsty/jealousy fics haha)) I’m just getting into genshin and so please feel free to send in requests for these cuties <3 @breathings-of-the-heart

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You had some worries about Kaeya, dubbed “The Handsome Mr. Kaeya” by Paimon.

There was no doubt that he was attractive, his ever present smirk and exposed chest was enough to signify to anyone that even Kaeya was well aware of his looks. But he tended to wield his words like a double edged sword - using his words for an express purpose.

It was admirable, in a way. He was the loyal Cavalry Captain who looked out for Mondstadt’s best interest. And while he had misled you on this pirate treasure adventure, there was no harm really done. In fact, from the way he prattled about haircuts and eyepatches inherited from his parents, you were already sure that it was simply a tale being spun for Paimon to latch onto.

At the end of the day, Kaeya still compensated you for your time and provided you with a higher-level weapon. The criminals were caught and the Knights were credited for another arrest of an infamous Treasure Hunter. It was a win-win situation that you very quickly put behind you as another job done.

The entire quest had not really bothered you - it was not like you had not withheld anything either. You ran from clue to clue without updating Kaeya on your progress, with the express intent of snagging some of this treasure yourself.

It was a really smart move on his part and, for whatever reason, it had the inverse effect on you - it made you want to get closer to Kaeya.

Paimon grumbled for all of a day before she prattled onto something new, complaining about the returning ruin guard by the temple or the way Venti sassed her. But you often found yourself hanging around Good Hunter or Angel’s Share, wondering if you would be able to run into him again.

It was no surprise that Kaeya was always busy, Jean had mentioned before that Kaeya was the one who often wrapped up every physical incident that occurred in both the city and outer plains of Mondstadt.

And so it was easy to lose track of him, the image of Kaeya still present in your mind, just pushed back in the further recess as you continued in your struggle to find clues about your brother. When whispers on the street spoke of a Dark Knight hero, you were pleasantly surprised to see Diluc patrolling the streets from the shadows.

The last thing you had expected was to team-up with the very man who ran opposite to the Knights, but you learned how oddly sweet Diluc was in that short amount of time. His double life of fighting off the abyss army single-handedly to running the largest Winery on the continent - Diluc’s workload was no easy feat.

You were just out of the clear, Huffman gone to deal with the slimes when a resounding clap started from the dining area of the bar. Kaeya stood and approached you both, you turned to Diluc and he had the flattest, most unimpressed expression on.

You stood mostly silent in that conversation, Diluc with his arms and chin held high. Kaeya had reassured him that the secret was best kept that way, eyes glinting mischievously as they went from the winery owner to you.

You only stared right back, as if Kaeya’s face would give off exactly what he was looking for. Instead, he simply smiled at the both of you and left when Diluc said he was closing the bar. Diluc thanked you for your assistance, reassuring you that in case you need help, he was a willing hand.

When you walked out the bar then, Kaeya was still right outside, chatting casually with some of the late bar-goers that sat at the picnic table. Just as he made eye-contact with you, he bid himself goodbye from the group and fell into step with you.

“Paimon doesn’t trust blue-haired, eye-patched men anymore.” She started next to you.

“That’s good I’m a blue-haired, eye-patched handsome young man.” Kaeya shot back, to which she rolled her eyes. He then turned to you with the same open smirk as usual, “And here I was thinking I could make you my assistant.”

Was he flirting with you?

It took you a second to question this internally before Paimon scoffed, “Ugh, I’m going ahead to the inn. I don’t think I can stand watching you make kissy-faces at each other after the day we had.”

You waved a hand in her direction to smack her, but she was already flying away up and out of reach.

Turning back to the Captain, you were surprised to see that Kaeya was still looking at you, not even toward Paimon as she fled into the night.

Remembering his last statement, you shot back, “Think you could handle me?”

“Confidence, it looks very good on you.” Kaeya replied as his smile widened. He took a single step closer, lowering his voice next to your ear and continuing. “But the real question is if you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?”

You stood your ground, ignoring the shiver that ran up your spine, “I always like to try new things.”

“I look forward to it.” Kaeya straightened, lightly grabbing your hand in one of his own and raising it to his lips. “Until then, traveler.”

To think that such a simple action, hardly anything scandalous, had lingered on your skin the entire night. You remembered the way his lips felt against your hand, how striking his blue eyes bore into your own. Kaeya was extremely dangerous, able to catch your attention and keep it for hours on end.

The next day you had a commission about dismantling a rising Hilichurl camp, a perfect distraction away from the eye-patched hunk that kept plaguing your thoughts. The last thing you expected was for Kaeya to see you.

“Looks like our honorary knight continues their do-good streak.”

“It’s the least I can do.” You replied back, a sassy hand on your waist.

“Why don’t I accompany you?”

You wanted to scream.

Paimon actually did groan before stating she was going to stay in the city.

And suddenly, your distraction was running exactly opposite to your intention. With Kaeya joining your party, the Cavalry Captain was making himself decidedly known you.

He led you around a cliff, showing you a higher area where you could survey the camp before bursting in guns blazing. There were six Hilichurls, some slimes scattered about and two towers already set-up in this enemy campsite.

You decided to stick together, coming in from the high ground and slamming your weapon into the ground at unsuspecting enemies. It felt nice to fight alongside someone again, oftentimes you were alone in your adventures. Paimon would yell words of encouragement, but never would she actually lift a finger to fight. But Kaeya was reliable, freezing enemies into place and shattering them where they stood.

Taking down some of the outer-rim electro Hilichurls equipped with bows, you were nearly finished with clearing the entire camp. You grabbed the pyro slimes and exploded them near the towers, taking down the camp with them. With the camp almost completely disassembled, you heard the tell-tale electronic power-up that only signified one enemy.

A ruin guard.

Hunched over, you watched as multiple missiles took aim on the nearby unsuspecting Cavalry Captain. Running the best you could, you threw decorum out the window as you all but tackled the poor man out of harm's way.

Rolling a few times, there was no surprised yelp from the man beneath you. He simply allowed you to take the wheel until you came to a stop, hovering over his body. Kaeya was undoubtedly taller than you, but you were face-to-face as he smirked beneath you.

“Wow, not that I’m against this.” Kaeya started, a quip ready. “But ask me out to dinner first.”

You flushed and stood up immediately, “I was saving you!”

“I’ll let you save me any day of the week.” Kaeya replied, earning a half-assed scowl on your behalf. He only laughed at you, calling your attempted look of intimidation only served to make a cute pout instead.

You huffed and considered leaving him with the ruin guard.

From then on there was no doubt about it - Kaeya was flirting with you.

And you were openly flirting back, if of course he decided a less obnoxious moment. In between commissions and nights at Angel’s Share, Kaeya flirtations were growing more and more brazen. It was one thing to kiss the top of your hand in greeting and another entirely for Kaeya to throw his hand across your hair, leaning in to openly bury his nose in your hair.

Diluc called you both disgusting.

Tonight, you entered Cat Tail’s semi-inconspicuously to get a drink. Paimon had long caught onto your game, saying that she surprisingly approved of Kaeya, since after all he was still a good guy in some ways.

But, she still was not exactly a fan of you too making “kissy-faces” at each other, her words. And so tonight you were flying solo, Paimon opting to annoy Amber instead tonight as they tracked down some abyss mage or other.

You tried your best to hang around the bar, looking around the tavern to see if the object of your desire was anywhere around. You meandered for a few minutes, saying greetings to other bargoers that had recognized you, before approaching the bartender if Kaeya has been around

The bartender recognized you immediately. It was hard not to place one of the few new people in Mondstadt, especially one that was crushing much of the country's enemies. Diona had mentioned before that you were a friend of Diluc’s, often more than just a customer at the rival tavern. No, you were seen running around the city with the red-head at random times.

She said the worst thing you could have ever suspected.

“I think Kaeya has a hot date tonight.”

You felt a lump in your throat form, but tried to keep your response guarded. “Oh?”

The bartender continued, “Yeah, I’m not sure if it was Paula? Or Maggie tonight? But you know the captain - always changing up his escapades.”

“Right, of course.” You replied back, words coming out before you could even register it. Instead, you kept on nursing your drink, spiteful words from the bartender marinating in your mind.

Kaeya was mysterious, yes. But was he leading you on?

… Was it right of you to trust him?

The first red flag should have been the fact that you knew nearly nothing about him personally. To think that you had spent all this time together talking and fighting alongside one another, but you could not even recall basic facts about him, let alone anything deep. You were unaware of his family history - Diluc was his brother, but it was the red-head who ended up confiding that fact to you.

Kaeya was so charming that you hadn’t even noticed he shut you out of his world.

And so there was no point in actively keeping a one-sided friendship like that. From then forth, you resolved to avoid the Cavalry Captain for the time being. You knew you had to free Dvalin together, but that did not mean you had to swoon for him in your free time.

It was almost expected of you to join him on Friday nights at Angel’s Share, but tonight you were missing. Neither Charles nor Diluc had seen you the entire day. There were probably a hundred different things you were doing - gathering resources, fighting slimes - and so Kaeya thought little of it.

But he was still disappointed not to see your face that night.

And so he thought nothing was wrong the next day when he saw you in the city square, talking to someone at the general store. He approached you and offered to join your party again, take down some enemies somewhere out in the country.

You didn’t even smile at him.

Not this time.

Just a curt no before you were leaving out the city gates.

The second time Kaeya already had enough and confronted you before you could even attempt to walk away.

He grabbed at your elbow, “Have you finally grown tired of me?”

You pulled it back, no real strength behind it as Kaeya still held you under his grip. “Kaeya, why is it that you keep reaching out to me? I have nothing of my own to offer - no money, no family - there is nothing left I can give you.”

He frowned in response but grabbed at your other hand, “I haven’t asked you for anything, have I?”

You looked away, “You don’t have to! It’s inherent, after all. Isn’t that why you asked me to team-up in the first place, to use me to find your criminals?”

Kaeya mentally recoiled, “Woah, back up. I may have guided you regarding the treasure but never have I maliciously led you on.”

You pulled at your hands to no avail, this time the captain actively trying to keep your attention on him.

“I just! I thought I meant something more to you, Kaeya.”

He smiled and tried to pull you into his chest, but you shoved off his touch this time fully.

“No! You can’t just hug me and think everything is okay. You’re supposed to be one of the good guys, one of the handful of people I can trust in Mondstadt and I know nothing about you.”

Kaeya did not reach for your hands, instead moving to stand in front of you. “I’m sorry that I hold my secrets close to my chest, but that’s what I’m used to.”

Frustrated, you replied. “Don’t you get tired? Holding the people that love you at an arm's length?”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, this time reaching for you. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t special. Trust me, you’re the only one I’ve had eyes on ever since you landed here in Mondstadt.”

You shook your head, “But the bartender, she said -”

“Who cares what she said?” Kaeya interrupted, “They know village gossip, but they don’t know me or you.”

“I don’t really know you.” You replied.

Kaeya caressed the side of your cheek before lightly gently grabbing your hand again, “Then let’s start.”

With a hesitant smile, you closed your eyes and nodded.

“Okay.”

You had your doubts then and it’s not like an issue of trust was fixed overnight. But, to his credit, Kaeya tried as best he could. Instead of meeting randomly at the bar, he would approach you sometime during the day and set-up a date. How he knew where you were was a mystery, but a man with that many connections surely had a way.

He had no qualms about holding your hand or openly kissing your cheek in the presence of others - proclaiming loudly to one and all in Mondstadt that you were his and he was yours.

Taking your first argument to heart, Kaeya was very keen on communication. Anything you were unsure of, he expressed that he was by no means rushing you. And when you finally shared your first kiss, for once not a single soul in front of the Lord Barbatos statue, you leaned into his touch to get many more.

Kaeya made good on his promise, slowly letting you into his world in kind. You remembered one night as the both of you sat on the edge of Mondstadt, nothing but ocean for miles in front of you. You had your head on his shoulder, describing your adventures with your brother and how you missed having family.

Kaeya had a gentle hand in your hair, rubbing soothing circles as you recalled a time long ago. Once your story finished, you two continued to stare out, wondering what the future could hold as your minds swam in an endless sea of thoughts.

He broke the silence.

“I miss my brother also.”

Diluc was not always his estranged brother, but once a friend, supporter, and sounding board. Some even mistook them as truly twins in heart and mind, defending Mondstadt and having each other’s backs for years. The Diluc you had come to know was a shell of his old self, close friends and past hidden behind years of repressed feelings.

There was no doubt wistfulness in Kaeya’s eyes as he recalled the past to you, but you continued to listen quietly.

Your relationship with the Cavalry Captain was hardly easy. Often responsibilities called you both - Kaeya was highly stationed in Mondstadt while you still had seven other countries to visit. But that did not mean the end for you both. Even when you were thousands of miles away or sat atop the highest mountain without a clue to where he was, you cherished the thought that you still shared the same sky with the love of your life.

No matter where you were in Teyvat, you had Kaeya to return to.

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herherteartear · 3 years ago

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bonus | five and a half

a/n— a lil more context to yesterday's chapter, pls lmk ur thoughts!! <3 and yes this is very latee😭 pls ignore any mistakes, just wanted to post this asap lmaoo enojyy🤍!!!

word count— i don't mf know

they were really nice. like, oddly nice? you knew Nari told the Bangtan boys to be on their best behavior but that’s exactly what they were doing. you almost began to feel bad for coming into the night thinking the worst of them. well, almost.

they held out for a total of 17 minutes before Namjoon decided to shoot his shot. he stalked up to you, striking up a conversation where he pulled out his best compliments and light hearted jokes. while everyone else watched Namjoon make a fool of himself, Jungkook observed your reactions. you scowled at one particular compliment Namjoon spouted that would usually seal the deal.

Jin let out a belly laugh once Namjoon sulked away from you. Jimin held back his own laugh as he wrapped his arm over Namjoon's shoulders.

"hey, it's okay, Joon. think about all the other girls you could have. one loss is nothing!" you rolled your eyes at Jimin's attempt to console his friend. Namjoon instantly perked up. his mind reeling with which girl he could hit up with a text to end his night happily. classic fuckboys, you thought sourly.

the rest of the boys took to treating you like they treated Nari. which made your night a lot more enjoyable. they were decent people when they weren't thinking of who to fuck next, but you kept repeating your promise to Nari in your head to remind yourself to play nice. the boys kept you occupied with their incessant rambling of their crazy antics.

"it's bullshit! we stapled our logo to my bare ass and where's the footage?" Taehyung raged. he paused for dramatic effect before throwing his hands in the air. "uh, not in the movie, if that's what you were wondering!" he huffed. you laughed along with everyone else. the feeling of being watched came back, as it had been lingering on you the whole night; you turned your head to meet eyes with the pink haired boy. Jungkook took this opportunity to walk towards you.

the whole night, you made it a point to avoid Jungkook in particular. why? well, he was everything you liked in a guy, from the bright, tussled hair to his wide, starry eyes. and that scared you shitless. you gathered your courage as he approached you.

"if Tae gets anymore angry, Yoongi's going to start threatening him with firing him. you wanna dip before that happens?" Jungkook lowered his head to speak into your ear. his hand naturally found it's home on your hip. you inhaled a deep breath as chills ran through your body.

"no, i'm good. Nari's been wanting to tell me something so i should probably go to her." you lied. you felt his snort of laughter on your neck right as Jungkook pulled away. he turned to look at Nari and Hoseok lost in each other's mouths against a wall that they thought was hidden.

"looks like she's a little busy. c'mon, we can be busy too." Jungkook slipped his hand into yours and tugged you towards the backyard. you continued your chant in your head, only this one wasn't your promise to Nari. no, this one was your promise to yourself. all fuckboy's are the same.

Jungkook was used to things like this. he was used to picking a girl that caught his attention and sticking with her until he got what he wanted. he knew what to say and what to do in order to get a girl on her knees for him. he knew how to play the game. his playing field switched up after he witnessed the way you detested Namjoon's flirting. Jungkook realize his normal game plan wouldn't work on you. and he found himself fascinated by that.

yet, with that in mind, Jungkook didn't want to charm you into sleeping with him. no, he wanted to see your pretty, glossy smile grace your face as you talked to him about whatever the fuck you were thinking; he wanted to show off for you; and yes, he did want to see you in a much more dirty setting. but that wasn't at the top of his list, surprisingly. and that's how he found himself sitting on the grass, both of your hands still clasped together.

"you don't talk much." Jungkook noted. you wanted to laugh because you knew that was far from who you were. but you were deep in thought about why his hands were so soft? what lotion did he use to keep them that way? and why is he playing with your fingers? did he not know your heart was racing and you wanted to vomit?

"i do.. when i want to." you replied after what felt like lightyears. you took a beat. "when i'm with people i like." you teased, although you hoped he would take it as more of a warning. Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head cutely.

"that— that can't be right." he faked being in deep thought.

"why not?" you fired back. mindlessly, your fingers began to trace the tattoo's on his knuckles.

"because i'm perfect? i'm funny, i'm handsome, i've got tattoos? i've got it all." Jungkook puffed out his chest proudly. you scoffed and threw his hand off of your lap.

"oh, please." he laughed at your repulse. he grabbed your hand once more, but this time to pull you onto his lap. "what are you doing?" you tried to get off, but he trapped you with his arms and he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"i like coming out here at night. the stars look pretty." he completely ignored your question. god, this boy was something else. he had no regard for what his actions did to you. you huffed out a sigh. right as you opened your mouth to question him again, Jungkook said, "just, look up.. for a little." he nudged your chin upwards with his fingers.

they were really pretty. the backyard of the Bangtan boy's house had a perfect view of the stars, the landscape of Seoul. a small smile formed on your face. the stars looked awfully similar to Jungkook's eyes.

"do you come out here often?" you wondered out loud. ew, what the fuck? you sound interested in him. you brought your lip in-between your teeth to prevent you from slipping up again.

"only when i want to think." Jungkook admitted. he blushed, knowing not many people knew that about him. he lowered his vision to see what your face looked like under the moon's light. "i didn't think it was possible you could look any prettier." he mumbled. your heart jumped to your throat. stop. he probably says that to every girl he tries to use. all fuckboy's are the same.

"yeah, okay. how many girls has that worked on?" you laughed dryly. before Jungkook could reply, you were lifting yourself off of his lap. "i'm going back inside." you stated. you needed to get away from him. you should have avoided him better. now your poor heart was gaining delusional feelings for a certain pink haired boy. but never would you admit that to anyone. never ever.

Jungkook's arms felt a lot colder without you in them. he jumped to his feet and pulled you close to him by your hips. you squeaked out a noise of surprise as you found yourself so close to him so suddenly. your noses brushed against each other and you stared at each other. you dared to glance down at his shining lips.

"haven't used it on any other girl. no one's as pretty as you." Jungkook answered. he jutted his chin forward slightly, hoping to catch you in a quick kiss. but no. you weren't giving in that easily. you pulled away from him.

"hm. good luck with those lines, Kookie. maybe one day they'll work." you teased him with a smirk. Jungkook watched as you walked back into the house. he laughed out loud. no girl had ever made him feel as sexually frustrated as he was endeared.

that night you kept your promise to Nari very nicely. and it was all because Jungkook forced a moment of weakness out of you. you let your guard down for him. and maybe you let it down too much. because you left that night wishing your promise to yourself would somehow break itself. all fuckboy's are the same.. but maybe Jungkook was different. were you ready for that?

masterlist

taglist— @unadulteratedlyunique @preciouschimine @cholychi @letmebreathepls @juju-227592 @whitepinkish @kirbykook @yoongiofmine @janedukiesworld @ladyartemesia @secretlycrazyhummingbird @joonswhore @miriamxsworld @hjinnie @ggukkieland

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

Text

You Can Be The Boss

Summary- 2.2k Mob!Steve x You x Mob!Bucky. Business Deals are done in the club most nights over liquor, drugs and you. Tonight is just like any other. You leave the stage to join your men while they deal with an ongoing issue. Warnings- Sexual themes, smut, weapon use, drug use, threats, swears. This is an 18+ Only Blog. Written for @donutloverxo 4k Challenge.

A/N- I would love to write more for this trio. Lyrics in the beginning and title taken by Lana Del Rey’s You Can Be The Boss.

Owned Sinfully Sweet Masterlist

You can be the boss, daddy You can be the boss Bad to the bone, sick as a dog You know that I like, like you a lot Don't let it stop...

The cold steel of the pole easily slicked along your heated thighs as you spun around it, your head tipping back as the rush of the club's sultry lights turned into blurs will you easily landed on your toes.

Of course eager men awaited at the edge of the landing, wanting a mere glance of interest from you as you worked your curves under the stage lights. Sensuous sways back and forth as the unforgiving lights created beads of sweat to roll down your back and past your bare flexing shoulder blades.

They flashed dollar bills like you should be crawling to them, pursing your lips in a pout and begging them to stuff your panties and bra with the filth. Little did they know you were here out of sheer joy. Hooking your leg once more and pulling yourself up, a siren at her craft as you contorted your body to the pole, defying gravity with your spins.

Casually you danced across to the end, the crowd parting easily as you eased from the stage, hungry starved men still hovered, but never quite reached out to graze you, although if you gave them the go ahead they would swarm like hungry Jackals.

Starving blood thirsty jackals. But you were a lioness and your men ruled here, waiting for you like devils at the end of your walk, they would easily kill any that came near you.

Your gaze lifted to them, Steve lounging back against his seat, cigar laced between his fingers as drifts of smoke curled around gold ring clad fingers, up around his face where tendrils of smoke caught in his hair before dissipating. The smoke couldn't curb the hungry blue eyes that watched you in your glittery sparse outfit making its way towards him.

Next to him sat your other companion, in his hand expensive crystal swaying amber color liquor pooled at the bottom of the glass, the liquor would make his lips intoxicating, darts of his tongue catching the droplets and curling wickedly in greeting when he caught sight of you, Bucky was unashamed at the way he shifted in his seat, patting his thick thigh for you to perch on.

Easing into his lap, your arm locked around his neck so fingers could run through the short crisps at the back of his head, manicured nails making him groan appreciative with a tilt of his head catching your mouth with his.

Just as you knew it tasted of rich dirty money, your tongue lapping through the brandy and coke lacing his mouth while he took you apart. A hand grasping your ass and flexing the muscle, sure to show those hungry bystanders that you were theirs.

Steve nearby tilted his head back to inhale his cigar and let it swirl above him before sticking the smokey cigar in a nearby ashtray. You glanced up at him from where you were nipping on Bucky's lip and he reached to pick up a tiny pill and held it up for you. Bucky yanked you away, muttering in your ear.

“Stick that tongue out Doll.” Which you obediently did and Steve stuck the pill on your tongue, and you let it roll on your tongue for Steve before tipping your head back to swallow, meanwhile Steve’s thumb traced your lip, winking at you.

“Such a good girl.” He praised while Bucky lifted you off his lap so you could go to Steve, his arm circling around your waist while you settled in against his chest, turning now to the guest at your table. Your eyes roamed him up and down before tilting your head to kiss Steve’s cheek, purring at him.

“Say hi to the Chief of Police Doll.” Bucky leaned forward with a smirk, his hand possessively on your thigh dangling over Steve’s lap. You were still nuzzling Steve’s cheek before turning to your guest and swirling your fingers at him with a small grin.

“Pretty isn't she, our Doll?” Steve trailed fingers along your collarbone and dipped into your cleavage, the chief’s eyes following with a lust filled drugged haze. Steve's hand went to your throat, his thumb stroking along your pulse as the cold rings of his bit into your skin. On instinct you purred again, tilting your head to him so he could kiss you slowly, this kiss was different from Bucky’s. More demanding, drawing out little mewls of need and his hand pressed against your hip to rock you in his lap till you settled your ass cheeks against his hard on.

“Do you want to try her out?” Bucky cocked his head with his signature grin, his hand sweeping up your thigh to cup your mound under your dress, stroking his fingers through your panties. You tilted your head back while Steve nipped at your neck before he tilted back to watch you rotate your hips to meet Bucky's fingers. “She’s excellent, aren't you baby?” Bucky asked and you whimpered in response, pulling at your bottom lip as Bucky dipped beyond your panties stroking your folds.

The Chief stuttered from across the table, his eyes wide in shock at seeing the Mobsters offering you up to him. “I-I can’t, she is yours and I wouldn’t ever want to cross that line.”

Steve patted your ass. “Go on Doll.” He insisted and you moved to a stand, hooded eyes roaming the Chief as you made your way beyond the table, your fingers trailing his shoulder while giving a pout to luscious red lips.

“Am I not pretty enough Sir?”

He sputtered again, holding his hands up and looking warily over at Steve and Bucky, who both were watching intently, waiting.

“No Dear, your stunning.” He tried to assure you while going back to Bucky and Steve. “I can't, she's your girl.” He said firmly and you leaned in close, running your nose over the shell of his ear, whispering softly in his ear. His fear dripped like a poison in the air, feeding your men from across the table while they admired you working.

“You really think refusing their gift will save you Chief?” You bit on his lobe before pulling away, Bucky holding out his hand to tug you back into his lap. Steve glowered with a snarl, reaching in his suit to pull out his glock and set it on the table in front of him before picking up his cigar and dragging from it.

“You refuse our gift, yet you feel like you can just take our warehouse in a raid?” Steve snapped out and you arched a brow at the Chief who was breaking out in a sweat.

“I warned you ahead of time that the precinct was getting interested over that location.” The Chief tried defending himself, his hand slamming down on the table in agitation at the situation.

You tutted while Bucky shook his head, pulling out his own blade from his suit, letting it dance in his hand lazily. “And we told you to handle it Chief. You have been paid well by us, we don’t fuck with your men, they stay away from us. Yet now we're out of a warehouse with all its goods. Not good business.”

“Not good business indeed.” Steve said darkly and the Chief turned red in anger at their accusations.

“I keep most of your shit under the radar, I warn you every time there is an upcoming bust in your area. I can't control everything, SHIT. I have people I work for. If i'm caught, I can do some real time.”

Steve now just looked amused at the Chief, you stroked Bucky's cheek while the blade spun faster in his hold.

“You think that matters to us?” Steve scoffed and Bucky flicked his wrist so that the blade flew across the table and planted in the man's shoulder before he could escape, making him gasp in surprise while Steve pushed to a stand, grabbing the glock and shoving it in the Chiefs gaping mouth, the barrel snapping against his teeth and pushing to the back of his throat, making him squeal in fear and pain, his hands going from trying to pull out the deeply embedded knife to around the barrel shoved in his mouth while Steve clicked the safety off, making his eyes grow wider and cross eyed looking down at the weapon.

Bucky tapped your thigh to have you stand, and he moved to approach the Chief after you lifted yourself from his lap, his hand grasping the knife and twisting. Blood curled up from the wound to tinge the air with a copper hot scent.

“This is your last warning Chief, get this shit under control. Or you will be sporting another hole in your head, got it?” Bucky hissed while yanking out the knife, making the man sink in his seat with a pained groan, sweat and tears mixing on his face. He tried mumbling out a yes, slurred around Steve’s glock.

“Yossss” he gagged out and Steve yanked the gun from his mouth. “YES! Yes, I promise.”

Steve settled back down while Bucky wiped his blood stained knife against the Chief’s shirt. You slid in the booth next to Steve, your hand stroking along the inside of his thigh and palming his erection that was now raging, throbbing as you squeezed lightly, making him give you a warning look.

You couldn't help but get turned on watching them work though, licking your lips hungrily and he grasped your chin, looking at you sternly. “Behave Doll.”

Turning back to the Chief while Bucky sat down next to you and loped his arm over your shoulder and tucking his knife back inside his suit, Steve waved his hand. “I think we're done here, be sure to think about what we said when you go back to your family tonight.”

The Chief fisted a nearby napkin against his shoulder to stop the blood and he grunted in pain as he got up from the table to stumble away, get out of the club as fast as possible. Bucky pulled out his phone and placed a quick call. “I want you to send a nice gift to Chief Baron’s wife, make sure to leave a nice note from Barnes and Rogers in it specifically for her and her husband.” He shoved his phone away, knowing that the gift would be an excellent reminder that the Chief’s family wasn't safe either, further incentive for him to take care of business.

Steve reached under the table to stroke you once more as Bucky had before, leaning into you to kiss on your neck, leaving a nice sting that would blossom darker later. “Fuck you are so hot when you are working.” Steve praised while sliding a thick finger in you, the rings cold in your heat, hard metal following gentle come hither strokes that had you gasping. Bucky tilted your head to kiss you while Steve continued fingering you, adding another to scissor you open.

“Got all wet didn't she? She loves being teased in front of others.” Bucky smirked as his tongue trailed over your mouth, chuckling darkly at the needy mewl of acknowledgment you gave them.

“Cause she's a little slut.” Steve stated, pulling his fingers out to show your arousal dripping down his fingers and shoved them in his mouth.

Bucky yanked you into his lap, pulling your dress up around your hips and shoved your panties aside while he pulled out his cock, making you sink onto it with a cry, he fucked into you while the music in the club picked up. Dancers mingled on the stage before their table, but Steve lounged back. The last of his cigar picked up from the ash tray and relight it while he watched you ride Bucky next to him.

His finger crooked at one of the passing waitresses who ignored the two of you professionally. You grabbed the back of Bucky's head and started arching faster while he thrusted into you with demanding grunts, pulling down on your hips harder. “Have our car pulled around for us.” He instructed and a final cry of Bucky's name had you coming on his cock and sagging forward while he finished, leaving you dripping around him. Hiding your smile against Bucky's shoulder till he eased you to sit up again, his hands cupping your face as you gave him a blissed out smile as that little pill started to take effect.

You couldn’t help the rush the drug and orgasm gave you, spiraling through your system in the most addictive way that made you want and crave more from them, your eyes glassy in pleasure while your body hummed happily, flexing around Bucky’s cock still filling you.

“Starting to kick in, isn't it?” He asked, referring to what Steve had given you earlier and you nodded, tilting forward to lick over his lips with a hum of satisfaction.

“Good, cause she started something she needs to finish in the car.” Steve chuckled while moving to a stand, holding his hand out to you. You grasped it while moving to a stand, easing off Bucky’s softening cock. He tucked himself away as Steve led you from the club and out into the night, the cool fresh air rejuvenating your senses when you inhaled deeply.

Steve opened the door for you and you slipped into the back of the limo, he followed behind. Bucky wasn't long as he climbed in and shut the door behind him.

“On the floor Doll, you got some work to do with that mouth, going to smear that lipstick all over with my cock and leave you ruined.” Steve demanded while the limo pulled away, the tent in his slacks evident.

Your tongue trailed along your dark red lips as you sunk to the floor, sliding your hands up Steve's thick thighs.

Anticipation quivered up your spine as his hand cupped around your mouth when your hands rested on his belt.

“Make sure you get me off Doll before we get home or else.”

You knew well what ‘Or Else’ meant, with a nod you unbuckled his belt, ready to reaffirm your place as Steve and Bucky’s Doll.

#mob steve rogers #mob bucky barnes #Owned Sinfully Sweet #amber writes #sweater writes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob au #marvel au #steve rogers au #bucky barnes au #sugary4kchallenge

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voidcat · 4 years ago

Text

— to yearn, and apricate

characters: albedo, you

wc & genre: 1.4k ops & modern au of sorts

a/n: hi hey hii so i've been pestering aqua (@pen-observing) with a genshin mafia au since forever n its like a plan of ours going on?? so it was gonna b one big thing with routes for various characters in the sense of romance, and maybe some 'extras' to follow... this was supposedly be an extra for albedo,, i got ahead of myself

Albedo is watching from afar, as he always does.

A man of logic and science, he watches with a keen eye at all times.

He observes, examines and when the time comes, he builds a hypothesis, only to test it out and follow a course of actions according to the results he receives.

Respected by many in Ordo Favonius, though more rumors and assumptions arise at any place he sets foot, Albedo is nothing if not careful and deducting.

Eyes fixated, he watches once again, turquoise eyes now trained on you.

To talk of or define your relationship with Albedo would be a rather tricky one.

Long past the “hello – hello” basis and few conversations here and there, be on foot or not, occur when needed. But that’s all there is to it: when needed.

Not that either of you seem to mind it; to some, it’s even a story of success that the blond doesn’t ignore or scoff at your presence before him.

And right now, Albedo is watching as you and Sucrose talk by the corner of the main hall. At one thing you say, she lets out a loud and cheery laugh, one not everyone gets to hear personally, (he would know, as he is one of the few lucky ones) and sees the way she looks at you.

Albedo wonders quite often what’s it like to feel.

He sees the way Kaeya and Sucrose look at you and wonders how they feel as they do so, how you must feel. Surely, you must’ve noticed the looks, as you return them in your own way too. Maybe, except for the times Sucrose longingly stares at you from the laboratory, as you converse with someone else on the other side of the room, unaware of the world going around you.

Albedo cannot help but wonder if there was ever a way he could possibly harbor those feelings his friends did, even just for a moment. Not necessarily on the same intensity, and definitely not necessarily toward you.

He thinks back to the night when Sucrose had too much to drink and talked about her university days; filled with joy, a hidden love somewhere and a grief that follows afterwards –as well as a hint of anger directed toward a third party, which piqued Albedo’s interest a little bit.

And though Albedo is bothered at how you appeared out of nowhere only to set your roots in deeper, your existence fits into the empty slots of the puzzle that was Sucrose’s, presented before him that night. The hicks, shaking hands, fists and the sudden change in her voice, hazy eyes staring at nowhere as if reliving a memory long gone. More spirited than ever; with such strong emotions carried in her chest and on her shoulders.

When it comes to Sucrose and you, the pieces fit into place. But for the rest, it only falls deeper in the light of day.

And it’s quite intriguing; how you first entered with a whim, only to display a sense of familiarity you shouldn’t be carrying, no, not when you’re new to all of these, to the people of Mond as of today, to Kaeya’s little side project Albedo prefers not to think about.

Your explanations to these only make way for more questions, even if you don’t mean so.

When Albedo observes Kaeya and you, he can see how his advances stand out more. Flirty banter back and forth, he never holds back his gaze. In his star kissed eye, Albedo can see hints and tints of some emotions, for you and only you.

It’s the way they look at you that makes Albedo grow more and more curious.

To Albedo, the phrase “love makes you blind” has never meant anything. He has seen and heard of people claiming to fall victim of it, that’s as far as his knowledge goes. Albedo has never experienced it himself, no. Yet in their eyes, he sees the truth to the saying.

Some days, when he thinks on it, he fears he will never have the bare necessities to experience it.

However Albedo knows better, as he doesn’t need to experience such emotions to see how blinding you can be.

And for this very exact reasoning, he doesn’t allow himself to be, for he’d be damned if his blindness, even for a blink of time, caused despair upon those dear to him.

And so Albedo keeps watching, not with a devotion like Sucrose’s or something more carnal like Kaeya’s.

He is on the watch, noting and analyzing even the tiniest speck of dust that shall land on your body. As a man of science and logic, it’s only expected of Albedo to be skeptical of things, and wary of you, the newest entry to the equation that surrounds him.

The state of research carries until all of his gathering shatters with a single presence that makes his way into the precinct.

It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots; though the way you’ve frozen up as Sucrose is running around in a frenzy, split on what to do, is more than telling that the balance has been meddled with.

Reaching out a hand on your shoulder, he meets your gaze with a nod and tilts his head toward the direction of his laboratory. Sucrose follows right after, trying to tidy up a bit and making place for you to sit. Turning the lock with a click, Albedo shuts the whole world outside. Yet he manages to catch a glimpse of the man entering.

Baizhu’s name has spread far and wide, known for all kinds of things, though Albedo knows about the shadier side of his business, –all thanks to Kaeya’s little secret project going.

Still, it begs the question how or why you’d be associated with a man such as him, and to end up badly on your end, clear from the way your brain and body reacted.

Just as Albedo assumed he has started finding the answers to his questions regarding you, you bring him a handful more, a new challenge.

He shrugs off the thought for the time being and makes way to you; who is still standing up, eyes fixated on the blurry green.

Placing a hand on your arm this time, he guides you to the spot Sucrose cleaned out already. Slow steps, one at a time, it’s hard to beat the rigidity of the body so quickly.

Sucrose’s concerned gaze heavy on you, yet your eyes seem blank, your expression says you’re out of it, out of this reality.

Helping you sit and leaving Sucrose to settle right beside you, Albedo walks back, closer to the door and leans against one of the counters, arms crossed. For the time being, for your sake, he’ll put aside the theories and the questions that are filling his brain.

By the time Baizhu has left, you’ve come back to your senses; although still acting rather cautious, you’re not disassociating.

Yet what captures Albedo’s attention the most is the look you give him.

Not like the ones you’ve offered Sucrose or Kaeya, or the irritating ginger who won’t stop sticking his nose into everything he sees.

This one you are offering outshines others in more ways than one. Even if it carries a hint of love, Albedo doubts he could recognize it, but he spots emotions of equal value, and gratitude.

For offering the laboratory as a sanctuary or for refraining from asking the questions about a time you’re trying your best to avoid and move one, he is not sure. Maybe it’s this mutual understanding and shared silence the two of you have held since the beginning.

Yet he can’t help but feel content all the same. And before he can notice, a smile creeps up to his face. Though it’s often loving gazes shared between others that catch his eye, only to make him yearn for such experiences and a chance to feel complete; the one you are carrying, for him, feels heavy on him, a feeling in his chest spreading.

Not sure what, exactly.

Even so, he doesn’t need a name to appreciate this rare opportunity, one not even Sucrose or Kaeya had seemed to live.

Albedo has never understood the phrase “Love makes you blind.”

Yet in that moment, he decides he wouldn’t mind going blind if it is your light that’ll caress his eyes.

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years ago

Text

Never Ready (part 2)

Summary: “It’s not like I’m ready to take her in.”

“And I was ready for you? Kid, nobody is ever ready for things like this. That doesn’t mean they don’t happen.” Levi is faced with the difficult decision of taking in his newly orphaned cousin. But he can't do it alone.You're a newly graduated college student looking to make some extra cash, but get more than you originally bargained for...

Word Count: 4.6K

AN: Sorry for the long wait, I've been very busy this summer but I'm trying to keep writing! Thanks for sticking around you guys :)

find part 1 here

Levi woke up early, as usual, however, he skipped his usual workout in favor of deep cleaning the house for the third time this week. Just as he was putting his broom back into the closet when the doorbell rang. He anxiously smoothed out his cotton dress shirt, tugging at the seam as he tried to tuck it into his pants.

“Hello-” His shoulders slumped when he found a young suburban housewife on the other side of the door instead of the gloomy social worker.

“Oh hi there! So sorry that it’s taken me so long but…” She held out a bottle of red wine with a neat ribbon tied around the neck.

“You didn’t have to,” Levi answered tensely as she beamed politely at him.

“I know but...it just felt like the right thing to do.” She shrugged, her strawberry blonde hair swaying, the strands just barely touched her shoulders.

“Well...thank you.” He thanked her, hoping that she would take the hint that this was a bad thing.

“No worries! By the way, my name is Petra, my husband and I live across the street.” She gabbed her thumb towards the house across from his.

“I’m Levi, nice to meet you.” He said, fighting to keep from grinding his teeth. It wasn’t that this woman was in the wrong, no it was simply the timing of her gesture. He was already on edge and he was never a fan of new people.

“Nice to meet you too! If you’re ever interested, we have a book club and-”

“Look, I appreciate the gesture but this isn’t the best time.” Levi cut her off and he felt a small pang of guilt at the way her expression dropped.

“Oh no of course! Anyway, you know where to find me.” She chuckled anxiously as she began her hasty retreat. It couldn’t have been soon enough, because a silver honda accord pulled into his driveway. Levi swallowed thickly as he watched Michelle climb out of her car and brave the icy sidewalk.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She said curtly as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and waited for Levi to step aside. When she crossed the threshold, he shut and locked the door behind her. She immediately began checking out the front room and the living room. The house had a nice open floorplan, so the first thing that anyone saw when entering was the living room and kitchen.

“Not at all,” Levi responded as she slowly wandered into the kitchen. He followed helplessly behind her as she began jotting notes down on a clipboard.

“Well, I must say that I am impressed with the hast you made these arrangements.” She complimented as she paced down the hallway, poking her head into the room that Levi had prepared for Mikasa.

“I don’t like to leave projects unfinished.” He responded as he waited in the doorway.

“Admirable.” She scribbled a quick note before finding her way back into the kitchen. Levi chewed the inside of his cheek as he waited with bated breath for her next words.

“Everything seems in great condition here. I don’t see any reason that she can’t move in by Monday.” She placed her clipboard on the counter and faced him with a tense smile.

“Monday?” Levi couldn’t hide the nerves in his tone and she smiled genuinely.

“Of course, we try to keep kids out of the homes as much as possible. Have you figured out what you wish to do for child care?” She moved seamlessly onto the next topic and Levi nodded, motioning for her to take a seat at the island.

“Uh, there’s a daycare that I was looking at. I’m also looking for a nanny.” Levi said as she settled into her seat and he sat a chair away from her.

“Excellent, my only concern with the daycare is that she has been attending the same one for some time now. It’s not far from here, I would highly encourage that you keep that the same.” She went back to her clipboard, jotting down some more notes as Levi contemplated what she had said.

“Makes sense.” He mumbled as she placed her pen down with a soft sigh.

“I got to say, I’m very grateful for your enthusiasm with this, makes my job a lot easier.” She smiled at him and Levi nodded curtly.

“Anyway, I’ll drop her off Monday morning, I believe that her current foster family uses the same daycare that she’s attending, Carla is the mom’s name. She’s made it clear that she is more than willing to lend a hand if ever needed.” Michelle jotted down a number on a scrap piece of paper and slid it across the counter to Levi who blinked stupidly down at her chicken scratch.

“That’s all I need from you.” Michelle stood and gathered her things, Levi trailed behind her to the front door and watched her leave. It was already Thursday, meaning he had less than five full days to finish preparing for Mikasa’s arrival. He felt like a tortured spirit in his own home, wandering the halls hallowly, he had never lived in such a large space. Not that his past homes had been small, but rather, he had always lived with someone.

Kenny and he had shared a small trailer all through his elementary years and well into his high school years. Then in college, he had roomed with Erwin and Mike, first in the dorms and then in shitty apartments. But now, he was alone. At least it was only for a few more days, but could you really count a four-year-old as company?

He found himself once again outside of the empty room, standing right on the threshold. The mere sight of the room made his stomach sink, from the subtle baby pink comforter to the dresser that was filled with tiny clothes. He turned and shut the door softly before marching back into the living room. The mid-afternoon sun was drifting in through the front windows and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

His phone rang obnoxiously and he scrambled to dig it out of his pocket. Hange’s contact lit up his screen and he inhaled sharply, preparing himself for whatever it was that Hange found important enough to share with him at one pm on a Thursday.

“Levi, is this a good time?” That was his first red flag, Hange was never considerate of his time when she called.

“It’s fine why?” He sighed as he began pacing the length of his living room.

“Well, I’ve got excellent news.” Hange couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice.

“What is it?” He encouraged her and she let out a muted squeal.

“I’ve found the perfect nanny for you! She just graduated last semester, I’ll send you her contact info.” Levi felt a small weight lift off of his chest, even though it wasn’t set in stone, at least he was making headway.

“She’s done this before, ever since she was a senior in high school actually. She told me over lunch that her usual employer doesn’t need her anymore so she’s on the hunt for a job!” Hange babbled on and Levi nodded along as he dropped onto the leather sofa.

“Got it thank you.” He confirmed as the ping of her sending the contact info came through his phone.

“Have her over for dinner, or maybe go out for tea. Ask her some questions and I’m sure you’ll find her more than qualified. She has no commitments so I bet if you can make her like you, then she’ll stick around for a while.” Hange chuckled deviously and Levi clicked his tongue.

“I have no idea what criteria I even have to look at to see if she’s qualified.” Levi scoffed and Hange snorted.

“Mikasa’s four years old, she has school and such, I mean as far as I’m concerned your nanny just needs to be able to drive and cook.” Hange shrugged as she flipped through her lesson planner.

“There’s got to be more than just that.” Levi bit the skin on his knuckle as he began wracking his brain for what makes a good nanny.

“Sure there is, I’m just brainstorming.” Hange chuckled and Levi rolled his eyes.

“I’ll make a list.” He concluded and Hange hummed her agreement.

“That’s a great idea, I mean in the end she’s going to be working for you so just put down qualities that you think make a good worker. Or something.” Hange seemed rather indifferent and Levi felt his jaw tick in annoyance.

“Right, well thanks.”

“No problem, catch ya later!” And with that, she hung up.

Levi stood outside of the coffee shop. He snuck one last glance at the shortlist that he had made. His brow creased when he read through it, the first point he had put down was: in-state driver’s license. Closely followed by good hygiene. Frustration bubbled into his chest as he wadded the paper up and shoved it deep into his pocket. He finally pushed through the door and approached the familiar counter. He ordered his usual and went to sit in one of the secluded booths in the back.

He had arrived a good ten minutes early, hoping to gather himself before meeting the nanny. As he watched the steam rise off of his cup of tea he savored the few moments of silence. That was until the bell on the door chimed. He knew it was you, Hange had described you in-depth when he had told her he reached out to you that evening she sent your contact.

Your hair was pulled back off of your face in a half up half down style. You wore a pair of fitted jeans and a knitted sweater. Levi watched you as you ordered your drink, you seemed so sure of yourself, the way your shoulders were pulled back and your jaw set in determination. Already off to a good start and he hadn’t even heard you speak. Levi watched you grab your drink before doing a half-turn, eyes scanning the small cafe. They landed on him and Levi knew he’d been caught staring. He did a small tilt of his head, inviting you to join him, you smiled warmly and took quick steps in his direction.

Levi stood and extended his hand to you, which you accepted with a firm handshake.

“You must be Mr. Ackerman.” Your voice was smooth and honeyed, immediately putting him at ease.

“Levi is fine.” He said as he sat back down in the booth. You slid down into the seat opposite of him, clutching your purse in your lap.

“I understand that you have some...experience.” Levi started a bit awkwardly. You nodded eagerly and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Of course, in the past, it’s mostly been under the table, but we can work around that of course.” Levi examined the typed-out document. A resume of your past jobs and a few recommendations from past employers.

“Under the table is fine…” He mumbled as he thumbed through the pages.

“So, Hange told me a bit about your...unique situation.” You pressed and Levi stilled in his motions.

“What’d she tell you?” He asked, grey eyes boring into you from over the tops of the papers.

“Just that you were a new parent and you needed a hand. Takes a village you know.” You chuckled a bit tensely and Levi felt some tension leave his shoulders. At least Hange had given him the liberty of explaining himself.

“She’s not wrong, I’ve taken custody of my distant cousin, I know nothing about child-rearing,” Levi admitted point blank and you weren’t sure if he was kidding or not. When his expression remained as cold as stone, you realized that he was in fact not.

“I see...I’ll admit that I don’t have much experience with...well stuff like this either.” You smiled at him in an attempt to diffuse the tension between the two of you. Levi’s eyes narrowed and he reclined back into the booth, eyes never leaving yours.

“We’ll just come up with it as we go.”

“So you’re set on me as your nanny?” You beamed and he scowled, although you were right. Levi knew from the moment he shook your hand that he would choose you.

“Yes, Mikasa arrives on Monday and I expect you to be there when she does.” Levi scoffed, lifting his teacup by the rim and taking a long sip.

“Be where exactly?” You were getting smart, something that simultaneously annoyed and intrigued him.

“My house, I’ll send you the address the day before,” Levi answered with a roll of his eyes.

“Sounds perfect.” You hummed, lifting your coffee cup to your own lips.

“What are my hours going to be?” You asked as you placed your cup back onto the tabletop.

“Mikasa goes to half days at preschool, so I’ll need you to drop her off and pick her up from that. She needs to be dropped off at eight am and picked up at noon.” Levi tapped his finger on the rim of his cup and you nodded.

“I can do that, so I’ll fix all three meals then?” You asked and Levi felt a tinge of guilt. He knew that he wasn’t completely prepared to be a parent, but he still felt ashamed for seeking help. Kenny had raised him to be independent. It had taken so much to reach out to Hange, and now he was relying on a strange young woman.

“Yes, that’s preferred. I don’t have any rules besides keeping the house spotless.” His finger was planted on the tabletop now to emphasize the importance of his only rule. You nodded in understanding.

“You can set the boundaries for Mikasa, I trust that you have enough experience in this area.” Levi continued and you tensed. Never had you ever had so much responsibility riding on a nanny position. Your employers set the rules and you enforced them, but now you were expected to be both parties. But when Levi slid a paper across the table your eyes widened. On the notepad was a range of wages that he was willing to pay. You struggled to contain your shock as you clutched the paper.

“T-This is way too much.” You squeaked as you pushed the paper back to Levi.

“Seems reasonable to me.” He shrugged and you felt your face flush.

“Well...it’s your money after all.” You reasoned as you grappled internally to regain your composure.

“But if at any time and for any reason you need to lower it that’s fine too.” You waved your hands in front of you and Levi’s brows pinched together.

“Don’t worry about it.” He assured you and set his empty cup aside.

“Was there anything else you wanted to cover?” You asked, sneaking a glance at your watch.

“That’s all from me, I’ll text you my address and get you set up to pick up and drop off with the school,” Levi said as he pulled his coat on over his shoulders. Your cup was still full so you remained seated as you watched him straighten the fabric of his jacket.

“Alright, see you Monday morning then.” You said as he marched towards the door, his posture rigid. As soon as he disappeared through the door, the doubt swirled in your chest. You had never worked this many hours and the added pressure of Mikasa coming from a traumatic past made you uneasier. But you weren’t one to shy away from a challenge, you pulled your phone out and began to dive headfirst into the internet. After about twenty minutes of scrolling through countless tabs and foster parent forums, you felt at least somewhat prepared.

You ended up ordering three more cups of coffee, by the time you were halfway through your third cup, your hands shook as you held your phone. The screen was beginning to put a strain on your eyes as you squinted at the black font. With a heavy sigh, you placed your phone screen down on the table and tossed your head back against the booth’s cushion. After a few deep breaths, you collected your things and made your way out into the chilly air, determined to continue gathering information and preparing yourself for the task at hand.

Levi did some research of his own that afternoon. Sitting in his desk chair, he clicked through tabs, a simple google search had shown him your Instagram. He had been relieved to find it public, your page seemed average, nothing too out of the ordinary. But he was disappointed to find it rather small, with not a lot of posts or followers. It seemed that you, like himself, were not too fond of posting every small movement that you made for the world to see. In fact, your most recent post was from almost a full year ago, right around spring break. The post was a compilation of photos you had taken on a biology trip that Hange had organized. He closed the tab and pulled up a new one, the official website for the daycare that Mikasa had been attending. He found the phone number and dialed it into his keypad on his phone. He needed to register you as one of Mikasa’s emergency contacts and as her primary source of transportation.

The process was easy and he was relieved to be able to check it off of his list so he could at least attempt and get some of his work done. He needed to savor these last few child-free days before Mikasa became a permanent and very prominent factor in his life.

As promised, Levi sent you a text with nothing but his address and the time he expected you there the next morning. Your sleep that night was fitful, tossing and turning well into the early hours. You only ended up sleeping a grand total of six hours before having to get up and get ready for your first day of work. You sifted through your closet in search of an appropriate outfit, as badly as you wanted to wear a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, you knew Levi would likely frown upon it.

So you ended up choosing a plush sweater and a pair of jeans. Pleased with your appearance, you then left your small apartment and made the twenty-minute drive out to the suburbs where Levi was located. The roads were icy the sky was dark with promises of more snow, by the time you had arrived a few fat flakes were already dwindling from the sky. You parked on the side of the road, careful to not block his mailbox, and trudged up the slick driveway and up to the front door. It only took one soft knock for him to pull the door open. He was as handsome as you remembered, his hair was damp from a shower and his hands were busy as he finished tying his tie. He stepped aside and walked back into his house as you kicked the snow off of your shoes.

The space was remarkably clean considering a single man occupied the space. Levi gestured vaguely with his head for you to follow him into the kitchen and you obliged. He pulled out a neon green piece of paper and handed it to you, Mikasa’s name was written in stark penmanship.

“That’s your tag to pick her up, don’t forget it.” He said as he shoved a set of keys into his back pocket.

“Is she here?” Your voice was hushed and your eyes strayed to the hallway which was dark.

“Not yet, the service worker should be here any minute now,” Levi said as he folded his collar down over his tie and finally turned to face you.

“Oh, alright. So what time are you usually off of work?” You asked, setting your purse on the island in the kitchen. Levi sighed and licked his lips thoughtfully.

“Depends...I normally stay late but technically my workday ends at 5:30 but I probably will be at least an hour later than that.” Levi said and you nodded along in understanding.

“That’s not a problem, do you have any idea of what time Mikasa goes to sleep at?” You asked, and judging by the way his shoulders tensed up, he did not.

“Not a clue, but I’ll ask the social worker.” He assured you and you nodded, allowing your eyes to scan over the kitchen. The marble countertops were so white and obviously well kept, you knew that they would give you grief, the oven and microwave looked fancy, as did the fridge. As Levi reached up for a cup from one of the deep navy cupboards, you noted that they were the kind that shut quietly. Your staring was interrupted by the shrill ring of the doorbell. Levi sat his cup aside and walked briskly back towards the front door.

“Good morning Mr. Ackerman, may we come in?” An unfamiliar voice could be heard, followed closely by the sound of two new sets of footsteps on the hardwood floors.

“Of course.” Levi’s voice was even lower and harder to make out as the newcomers shuffled in. They rounded the corner and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest when your eyes landed on the small girl. She wore a white dress paired with a pink cardigan and a scarlet scarf. The older woman helped Mikasa out of her plush pink coat and draped it over her forearm.

“Who is this?” The woman asked, eyes slightly widened as they landed on you.

“This is (Y/n), my nanny,” Levi said vaguely and the woman nodded slowly before gently pushing Mikasa out from behind her legs.

“Honey, why don’t we go take a look at your new room?” The woman asked and the girl’s brows knitted together, but she let the social worker guide her down the hall and out of sight. Levi tailed behind them, you almost followed as well, but you feared overwhelming her. Levi hauled the small suitcase down the hall and you heard the soft chatter of the two adults. A few moments passed before they returned, the social worker shook Levi’s hand and knelt down to give Mikasa a tender hug.

“We’ll be in touch.” She promised as she showed herself out. Levi’s shoulders drooped once the woman left and he looked down at the small girl who stood near his side.

“Mikasa,” He cleared his throat and the small girl looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears and lip quivering. A rush of panic flooded his chest but you were quicker than he was.

“Mikasa, my name is (Y/n), we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.” You had crossed the room to kneel before her with your hand outstretched invitingly. The girl gripped the edge of her dress and swayed it anxiously as she avoided your eyes.

“I know this is really scary and confusing, but we’re going to work through this together.” You assured her when she remained closed off. Levi watched with wide eyes as tears slid down her face and rolled off her chin. You leaned forward and swiped them away with your thumb and Mikasa whimpered unsurely.

“Tell you what, I was just about to make some breakfast. Have you eaten yet?” You asked, after a moment of contemplation, Mikasa shook her head no shyly.

“What would you like? I’ve been told that I make a mean waffle.” You smiled wryly and Mikasa’s lip quivered as it quirked up in an unsure smile.

“I wanna make cinnamon rolls.” She spoke softly and you nodded with wide eager eyes.

“Totally.” You agreed, still holding your hand out as you slowly stood. Mikasa accepted your outstretched, her small hand was easily enveloped in your own as you led her around the island.

“Hey Levi, how much time before you’ve got to leave?” You asked as you stopped to hoist Mikasa up onto the counter.

“About 30 minutes.” He said, trying to contain himself from scolding you for putting the child onto the counter.

“Want to help us?” You invited and Levi sighed, knowing it would be wrong to decline.

“I don’t have cinnamon rolls.” He said instead of answering the original question.

“Oh that’s not a problem. Do you have flour? Yeast, eggs?” You asked as you turned and began rummaging through the cabinets.

“Of course, I’m not an animal.” He scoffed and you chuckled as you pulled out a bag of flour.

“That’s all we need.” You sat the bag next to Mikasa who reached out and touched it experimentally. Next you pulled out the carton of eggs from the fridge, Mikasa opened the carton and gently held an egg. Levi could easily imagine her losing her grip and dropping the egg onto his freshly cleaned wood floors.

“Where’s your cinnamon?” You asked, back turned and arms outstretched as you held the cabinet open.

“Here.” Levi slid past you, opening the neighboring cabinet and held the spice out to you. With a smile you accepted it and added the container to the growing pile of ingredients.

“How long does this take?” Levi asked, glancing at his watch.

“Not 30 minutes.” You answered wryly as you handed Mikasa a wooden spoon, she accepted it happily. Her small hands wrapped around the handle and she placed the spoon against her cheek, basically hugging the utensil.

“What else do you need?” He asked as you perused his kitchen.

“Just yeast and sugar.” You answered as you crouched to look for a bowl.

“It’s over here.” He opened a cabinet near the one you were inspecting and pulled out a bag of sugar and a handful of yeast packets.

“Do you cook a lot?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Enough, I hate eating out.” He answered and you hummed in understanding.

Levi watched as you began making the dough and Mikasa leaned on your shoulder as you kneaded the dough. Her grey eyes widened when you motioned for her to join in. She poked the dough and you smiled as she splayed her small hands over the surface of the squishy dough.

Once again, all Levi could think about how dirty her hands were as she began kneading the dough as you had previously.

“That’s great! Now we can let it sit for a while before we roll them up!” You explained as you gathered the dough back up into the bowl and laid a kitchen towel over it.

“Want an apple while we wait?” You asked and Mikasa nodded enthusiastically as you turned to grab the fruit. Levi looked at his watch once more, he still had about 10 minutes before he had to leave. But he felt the pressure and reality of his newfound responsibility weighing heavy on his chest. So he went to get his shoes and retreat like the coward he was.

“Leaving?” You asked as he pulled his shoes on, you had already cut the apple and Mikasa was watching with curious eyes as she crunched on a slice.

“Yeah, I’ll be back before 8.” He promised and you nodded.

“See you then.” You called after him as he slipped out of the garage door, throwing up a careless wave of acknowledgment as he went. You then turned back to Mikasa and sighed exasperatedly and she giggled as you returned to making her breakfast. This was going to be a long day.

#levi snk #levi attack on titan #levi x fem!reader #levi x nanny!reader #levi x reader insert #levi x reader #levi akerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #hange zoe #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #attack on titan mikasa #mikasa ackerman #nanny au #modern au

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sugar-petals · 4 years ago

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♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass. Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground. Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this. You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

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