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strscrossed · 4 months

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kiss of death — part i

and here i present the ballerina/mafioso au. it's a slow start but i always like having a setup. anyway, eren's a mafia underboss along with his brother zeke. grisha is the boss and women are kept out of the family business. thanks @likesunsetorange for reading this over and also enabling me! 💕

eremika. 2.5k. explicit.

“And what do you mean you won’t be joining us for dinner?”

Eren glances at his father for a little assistance. His mother’s voice is low, something dangerous stirring behind the calm. At this point, Eren would rather be in enemy territory, without a gun, than deal with Carla Jaeger.

“It’s last minute but a business associate's daughter has a ballet recital and he’s treating us to dinner after. Sorry, mom. Can I take a raincheck?

The key to a good lie is a half-truth. He does, in fact, have to attend a ballet tonight. Not with a business associate but his mother isn’t to know that under any circumstances. He worries for a moment because his mother is quiet. Too quiet, in fact.

“Always with the rainchecks,” she mumbles, shaking her head. She glares at him for two seconds, narrowing her eyes before sighing, conceding defeat.

When he was younger, he had a tell. His ears would turn red and his mother had a habit of pinching them whenever she would catch him in one. But adulthood has turned him into a seasoned liar.

“And you couldn’t handle this because…?” Carla glares at her husband, who sits on the sofa cross-legged, reading a newspaper. Grisha Jaeger is afraid of no one. Except, maybe, his wife.

“I’m close to retirement, dear. The boys are grown now, it’s time they got involved in matters of the family business. If I keep doing it, they’ll never learn anything. And I’m not getting any younger.

Zeke, who stands a few feet away, snorts quietly. Grisha’s “fragile old man” shtick would be laughable to anyone but his wife. Carla shakes her head. Again, a sigh of defeat as her husband gives her those weary eyes. Eren has to bite his tongue to keep the laugh from escaping.

“Eren’s hardly around anymore,” she says, shaking her head. “Can I at least have a meal with my boy once a week?”

He can’t say no to her.

“Of course, mom.”

She sits back in her chair, teacup in hand. She mourns time lost with her son but unbeknownst to her, she is living comfortably because of all this. And to keep all this, he has to break yet another promise to his mother.

“I need to head out now,” he tells everyone, with Grisha and Zeke nodding and Carla sighing.

“Who is going with you?”

“Armin and Floch,” he answers. At the mention of Floch’s name, he sees her face pinch a little. No, he’s not having this conversation again. She’s made her distaste for that young man abundantly clear. He doesn’t want to stick around to hear her ask his father, yet again, why he keeps him around.

“Bye,” he says and he’s out the door before his mother can get another word in.

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

The fresh air fills his lungs as he closes the door behind him. His mother still doesn’t suspect a thing and that’s how he wants to keep it. It’s a dirty, grimy world that only the men of the family are privy to. If she really knew what the real family business was…

He doesn’t want to even entertain that idea. These are the rules. They exist for a reason. And he stopped feeling bad about lying to her years ago. It’s a lesson that’s been beaten into him since he was sixteen years old.

Eren slides into the front seat of the car. Floch is driving and Armin takes his place in the backseat. Neither man makes an effort to converse with each other and that’s fine. Their bickering is a source of Eren’s frayed nerves too often.

“Ackerman soldiers were spotted frequenting the ballet, huh?” Eren asks. It’s a rhetorical question.

“Quite a few of them actually,” Floch responds, his eyes glued to the road.

“It’s because one of their own is this year’s prima ballerina,” Armin adds. “A large number of them are said to be in attendance this evening.”

“Frequent the ballet, Arlert? How do you even know that?” Floch asks.

Eren stays quiet as he glances at Armin’s unamused expression in the rearview mirror. Thankfully, he’s not the explosive type.

“Well, if you must know, knowing about different things helps me navigate and infiltrate a number of different circles. You might want to culture yourself a little more, Floch.”

Oh, here they go.

“So, one of their own, huh? Old Kenny’s extorting ballet companies now?” Eren snorts. “His niece wanted to become a ballerina so good ole Uncle Kenny made it happen? Never took him to be such a fucking softie.”

No, actually, if that is the case, it’ll be easier to get under the old fucker’s skin.

“Actually, I hear Mikasa Ackerman is a once in a generation talent. And just in case, tonight’s performance is a ballet called Giselle. It’s about a young woman who falls in love with a nobleman and when they can’t be together she dies of heartbreak but that’s not where it ends—”

“I don’t care, Armin,” Eren cuts him off. “I don’t care about ballet or the girl. We’re going there for one reason and one reason only — to watch the Ackerman’s every move. Everything else is worthless and irrelevant.”

He hears Armin sink back into his seat, sighing.

Eren does his best not to twist his face in annoyance. A ballet of all places. He never thought he’d be caught dead at one of those…

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

Kenny Ackerman is nowhere to be seen. Naturally, his old ass couldn’t be bothered to show up anywhere someone could see him. Levi Ackerman, however, is seated in the very front row. Armin manages to get them balcony seats so they can see everything.

It’s the most boring observation ever because the Ackerman associates and soldiers are just seated there.

This is why soldiers and lower level soldiers are sent to do this crap. Now he has to sit through a two hour long ballet and pretend to know what’s going on.

Occasionally, the man to Levi’s right will lean over and whisper something to his ear. He simply nods, giving nothing away.

“What are they saying?” Floch mutters to himself, squinting as if to read the lips.

Armin, meanwhile, is observing their surroundings. It’s entirely possible that they’ve been spotted.

“None here,” he assures Eren after a while.

Before he can say anything, the theater lights dim.

Eren knows jackshit about ballet. He doesn’t care to know what’s going on. The arts, the gentler things in life, were things he never cared to become acquainted with. So when the lights dim and the sound of violins fill the theater, he groans. He hears a lady gasp and jump behind him and he can’t help but scoff. It’s nothing compared to the sound of gunfire, bones breaking, or knives cutting through skin.

The Ackerman party, however, stops talking. Their eyes are glued to the stage and, unwillingly, Eren turns his attention to the stage. The whole production is colorful. Too colorful. It’s an eyesore.

He has no idea what’s going on. There are several dancers on stage at the beginning and then it’s just two guys. No one’s talking, obviously, it’s a ballet not a play. Armin’s probably watching completely enthralled, but he’s not impressed. He leans back in his chair, bored out of his mind as he watches them prance around the stage.

He’d never willingly show up to these things. But, when his father received word of a large gathering of Ackerman, of course he had to show up for it.

If the Ackerman are here, he needs to keep an eye on all of their activities. They might be here for the girl, but that’s immaterial for Eren.

He doesn’t care about ballet.

He doesn’t care for the girl—

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when a young woman appears on the stage. She looks around, and prances around the stage. And just like that, Eren is drawn right into the performance.

She’s graceful, her movements are so natural, so effortless. It’s like she belongs up there. Whatever she’s doing — whoever she’s playing — she embodies the role perfectly.

If he knows nothing else about ballet, he knows this much.

“That’s Mikasa Ackerman,” Armin leans in to whisper in his ear. “This year’s prima ballerina.”

He doesn’t know what the hell is going on but it gets sad pretty quickly, he assumes. He hears sniffling behind and near him. Floch looks endlessly bored and Armin, as predicted, is really into the performance.

Eren is focused on his dancer.

If he could compare her face to anything, it would be the moon. It is the illuminated beauty in the dark of the night and even from here, her eyes light up like the millions of stars. Only hers are brighter.

It goes on for two hours, which Eren decides is not long enough. He’ll watch her perform all day and night if that’s what it takes.

When the curtains close and everyone stands up to clap, he cannot bring himself to do so. His beautiful dancer is no longer in front of him and he finds no reason to celebrate that.

“Well, that was uneventful,” Floch mutters disappointingly. “I thought they might actually try something. I thought we might actually gain an advantage over them.”

Oh, right, they had a job to do.

“Floch, if you thought they were coming to a ballet, which by the way one of their own is performing at, to try and pull something you’ve set your expectations way too high.”

“Yeah, well if you haven’t noticed, this is our territory—”

“—technically, no it’s not.”

“What? Are you secretly on their side, Arlert? Because it sounds to me like you are.”

“Would you two shut up?” Eren growls, prompting the two of them to shut their mouths. “Armin, is she set to be in any more shows?”

“I can check but if she’s the prima ballerina, you can bet on it.”

Well, he is a betting man. And he always wins.

“Then we’ll keep coming back. Sooner or later, they’ll start conducting business around here. We should watch for that.”

He receives no protest. He does his best to keep a poker face but as he exits the theater, the corners of his turn up slightly…

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

“So?” Grisha asks, closing the door behind him. Eren and Zeke stand side by side as Grisha walks back to his desk, settling down and making himself comfortable before Eren allows himself to answer.

“Nothing special. The Ackerman girl is part of the ballet, so they were serving as glorified bodyguards. The three of us watched them the whole time and nothing happened.”

Disappointing news to say the least. So much for this being a golden opportunity to strike against the Ackerman. As always, they manage to elude them by doing absolutely nothing.

“Even so, continue to watch the ballet,” Grisha instructs. “One evening will tell us nothing. And if the girl is part of the ballet, well they’ll frequent that theater. Perhaps, old Kenny Ackerman might show up.”

Fat chance.

“And Zeke,” he turns to his eldest son. “Are the girls of any use?”

“Nope,” his brother answers. “The men don’t frequent brothels. In fact, the girls haven’t heard of either of them.”

“Damn it!” his father curses, pounding the table with his fists. The whole thing is a little over dramatic in Eren’s opinion.

Weaker men cower before Grisha Jaeger. He is someone that you don’t want to piss off. In all fairness, the Jaegers in general are people you don’t want to piss off. The two brothers are the only ones immune to their father’s fear tactics. Though, he is certainly not just talk. He wouldn’t be in this position otherwise.

“It is decided then,” Grisha mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Reiss and the Tyburs agree that this cannot continue.”

There is a tenuous peace between the families. Initially, each family controlled a third of the island and conflicts broke out through the generations. Eren’s grandfather realized there were more benefits to keeping these families as allies than enemies. Though tenuous is the best way to describe whatever alliance they had going.

“And what does that mean?” Zeke questions.

Grisha responds with a small smile.

“I won’t keep you as you two have more work to do. I have arranged it. Zeke, you are to marry Rod Reiss’ eldest daughter, Frieda. And Eren, you are to marry Willy Tybur’s younger sister, Lara. You are to meet with them, court them, and the official engagement will be two months from today. It is done. You two will honor it.”

What century was this?

“What the fuck, old man?” Eren growls and two pairs of eyes are on him.

“What was that?” his father asks, daring him to repeat it.

“You just sold us to the Reiss and Tyburs? You just want us to go along with it? What the fuck?”

Grisha’s not used to having his authority questioned. Sometimes Eren is going to whine but usually he doesn’t have an issue doing his father’s bidding. Extort the local jeweler? No problem. Take care of a guy and dispose of his corpse? Done. Spy on a couple of low level Ackerman associates? He can do that in his sleep.

Marriage though? Fuck no. That was different. That is something sacred and just for him.

“You don’t have a choice. You’re going to go through with this, Eren. I’ve given you way too much freedom. You’re marrying Lara Tybur. End of discussion. You have dinner reservations tomorrow night at 8 pm. Make sure you’re not late and I’ll know if you two fuck this up. Now get the hell out of my office.”

As the door closes behind the two of them, Eren is prepared to stomp down the hall but Zeke’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Careful, Eren,” he warns. “Step out of line and the old man isn’t going to hesitate to give you the kiss of death.”

Eren scowls, “And when did you become the obedient son? ”

“You didn’t seem to have an issue when he decided that you’d join the family business. You don’t have an issue doing his dirty work. But you draw the line at marriage. Interesting. Is there someone?”

“Fuck off, Zeke! It’s entirely fucking different and you know it! Does there have to be someone? And you’re one to talk! Pieck Finger is it?”

“Watch it, Eren,” Zeke warns him, all amusement vanishing from his face.

“Hit a nerve? Does the old man already know? Is that why you’re so okay with going along with it?”

Zeke narrows his eyes, “I suggest you keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.”

“Whatever. I’m tired.”

He stomps off. Zeke might be okay with this, but he definitely isn’t. He’ll do anything for this family but this was too much! And without even consulting the two of them. Shouldn’t he have a say in who he marries?

As he silently rages, images of Mikasa Ackerman moving gracefully around the stage flood his mind. And all the rage dissipates into thin air…

#ballerina/mafioso au #eremika #fic #em tumblr fic

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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should have worshipped her sooner

summary: you are known around campus as a bit a harlot when it comes to sleeping with professors. it's a title you have earned rightfully but you want to change that. as a last hurrah your friend convinces you to go for professor presley, a man you've admired from afar. things go unexpectedly for both of you. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m overall, but this part is a high t i think. pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader word count: 8420 i don't even know warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. use of a cane to startle people. mild fantasizing about the cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone are of legal age ). religious talk. power kink/title kink? elvis being ill enough to miss class. unrequited love that would be requited if people just opened up their mouths. author's note: so welcome to the beginning part of the my heart's already sinned, there's a final part after this where it has the happy ending that i promise i'm giving these two but i'm not quite done with it so welcome to the thing that started these two being- the way they were in the fic i linked. special thanks everyone who has listened to me scream about these two, y'all know who you are. and i kind of tagged anyone who reblogged this/left a comment on the last one sorry if you didn't want to be tagged but i at least promise the smut for the last part is- a beast and i wrap it up in a nice bow. and y'all know the drill, pick your elvis poison, this is written with real elvis in mind but you can imagine austin elvis.

"I'm just saying it'd be a waste to not try this last time. I get it, I support you and I'm proud of you. But you're- if anyone could sleep with Professor Presley, it would probably be you. I'd bet good money, we could win good money." Noelle says, brandishing her fork at you over dinner. "I could see you and him getting along."

You roll your eyes at her antics before glaring at her with a mouthful of your food. You swallow before shaking head. "Of course, because the religious studies professor who everyone knows goes for women who are not going to our school and who is pretty religious himself would go for me, the "Tour Guide" for the school. I could definitely see it."

Normally your sarcasm would clue Noelle into dropping it but she can't help but continue her line of thought. "That's why, though. You're not his type, though we both know you love taking orders from someone big and strong. And you and both know how big and strong you think he is."

"I told you that with the idea that you wouldn't use it against me." You whine, poking her with your fork. "If I agree to this, if I agree to try, will you never mention it again?"

There's a moment where your friend debates whether or not she wants to agree to the terms before she nods solemnly. "I'll bury my knowledge of you liking Professor Presley and any other professors who are big and strong deep within me. As long as you tell me if you do manage to sleep with him. Just for my own selfish desire."

You can't help the way your lips purse but you nod anyway. "Deal."

Seeing Professor Presley up close, breathing in his scent as he walks by is something entirely different than seeing him from afar, seeing him from across the way, talking to the selected group of other professors from varying different departments that he dubbed his Memphis Mafia. Did it matter that not everyone was from Memphis? No. Did it matter that technically speaking neither was Professor Presley himself? Also no, because they had come to Tennessee and fell right into the lap of someone who from what rumors say is practically a King in Memphis. He was imposing enough from afar, capable of commanding his group like it was nothing but in person? In the same room as you with his eyes flitting around the still empty classroom? That was another thing entirely, that was the universe narrowing its focus to just this room, to just this part of the room where you're sitting in a dress jotting down a note- or ten- in your planner. The tap of his cane gives him away even as you don't look up and it's perhaps for the best because if you had looked up your reaction to Professor Presley might not have been as chaste as it is. After all, how is a woman supposed to react to someone looking at you like you're some priceless religious tome- like you're more beautiful than every angel in heaven or any god or goddess in any religion especially when most people on campus have never seen that look on Professor Presley.

He stops in front of you, tapping his cane once on the ground and clears his throat. "Pretty early for class, aren't ya? One of those overachievers?"

Your first instinct, the one that you have to tamp down on when you look up is to roll your eyes and try and say something cute. Something charming to rope him in like you've done with so many other professors. What you do instead is look up at him with a small smile. "Something like that." Not at all like that, if he asked anyone else. "And I wanted to get a good seat. I know in classes like this a lot of people take al the good ones if you don't stake your claim first. Is it a problem, Mr. Presley?"

Elvis lets out a short whistle that sounds more like him saying whew than anything else before he starts to laugh, shaking his head. "Now I know ya ain't calling me Mr. Presley like ya talkin' to my daddy. Know I ain't a spring chicken no more, but ya gotta way of takin' a man down a peg wit' that."

Almost as if you can't control your body, your head tilts a little as you raise an eyebrow. "What do you want me to call you, then? Professor Presley?"

Elvis's leg and cock twitches at his title slipping from your lips as if you're just casually reading off a menu or a list of ingredients. Never in his life has he thought being referred to as his title was arousing and yet there you were having him react like that. He shakes his head and licks at his lips before answering. "Elvis." He pauses to exhale quietly. "Call me Elvis."

You blink once and a slow gentle smile crosses your lips. "Elvis." It feels surprisingly right leaving your mouth, feels surprisingly right being on your tongue. "In that case, is me choosing a seat a problem, Elvis?"

It was a mistake to have you call him by his God given name, oh it was a mistake because now he knows how it sounds rolling off your tongue. Knows how the angel standing in front of him, this sweet girl that he knows isn't what she seems, sounds saying his name. He wants to hear it more, he is- he knows he shouldn't but there is something about the way the syllables fall from her lips that sound like a hymn, the musicality he only ever hears in them falling from her lips. He'd call you a siren if he didn't know any better but no, no you're something else entirely. A moment passes before he answers, trying to tamp down on the arousal he feels in his veins at your use of his name, innocent as it may have been.

"It is, darlin', because that's not where I planned on ya sittin'. A girl like ya in the middle of my class? Tryin' to hide from me? That won't do at all." He lifts up his cane and uses it to rap against the chair two rows in front of you. It's a seat in a spot you hate, at the end of the row and smack dab right in front of the podium. Even though you were planning on trying to charm him throughout the semester and you planned on paying attention in class the idea of being right there in front of everyone made you feel a little self conscious for some reason. "Front row, right there. Up n'at 'em."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and pout just a little bit before you gather your items and your bag, standing up and walking to the aforementioned seat. There's a part of you that wants to turn around, wants to be a little childish and stick your tongue out at him but while you've heard that Professor Presley- Elvis was a bit of a child at heart, something tells you he'd prefer the show of respect and so you resist. Instead you choose to just go back to what you were doing originally, thinking that perhaps he was done talking to you. You hardly register the tap of his cane on the floor approaching you yet again, and what part of your brain does assumes he's heading to the front of the classroom before you feel the warmth of his hand against your shoulder. On top of your shoulder, really, the sheer size of his hand making it so that the heat emanating from it feels like a fire licking at your skin. You swear you hear your heartbeat roaring in your ears and feel it rushing through your body and your head. Despite this or perhaps because of it, your brain narrows to just you and Elvis and your ears that aren't hearing a single other thing in the room at the present time can hear the words leaving his mouth.

"That's a good girl." His voice practically rumbles against you and you know he's not pressed up against you, there's no reason you should swear that you can feel the vibration of his words and yet here you were. "Doin' what you're told." He pauses. "Be prepared f'me to call on ya today."

You don't realize when your eyes shut of their own volition until you have to force them to open at his question. Part of the reason you had chosen your seat was to really study Elvis in his class setting properly without him being able to really study you back or accuse you of being distracted, but here you were being thrust into his view and under his constant attention. You swallow slowly and exhale. "I-Are you prepared to hear my answers to what you ask?"

There's a moment where you swear you see or maybe you feel Elvis bending closer to you, to maybe brush his mouth against your ear. You know you're imagining it though, knowing he wouldn't be that close to your neck and the shell of your ear. "Darlin', don't think 've ever been more prepared for somethin' in m'life. 'sides, curious what's inside that head of yours."

A smile crosses your lips, small but still ever present before you respond. "Careful what you wish for, Elvis. Might live to regret giving me a challenge."

"Regret giving ya a challenge?" He moves to be in front of you, trying to walk to the front of the room before he looks back at you his eyes dancing with something you'd like to call amusement before he shakes his head. "Doubt it, if anything you might become my favorite student because of it."

There's a rush of heat that runs through your body at those words and you find yourself biting your lower lip and looking down, bashful and yet thoroughly delighted. You open your mouth to say something only to realize he's not paying attention any more, that he's already moved to the bottom where his podium is and you take that to be a sign you should get back to your other notes. The moment you bury yourself into them, looking down instead of looking up at him, he allows himself to stare at you, thanking God you had to take his class this semester.

Your class goes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself marveling at how he's commanding the room with everyone actually paying full attention even as they take notes. True to his word he calls on you multiple times and you find that seeing how his mouth splits into a grin and how he seems to have a bit more of a pep in his step as he moves to the next point after you provide a bit of debate with him. Elvis has always supposedly had a way of making a mildly boring subject to most be a rather boisterous and entertaining class but if anyone who had his class before were to see him today- hell- if any of the Mafia had seen this class today they'd wonder what he took to have all the energy he has.

The next class is a few days later and you remember what Elvis had said, that he assigns his seats and that he had specifically picked out your seat for you. A thought crosses your head to sit in a different seat but after that first class you find you enjoy where he put you, find that it fits your plans for the semester but it also makes you feel watched by him versus watched by everyone else, which was the reason you had avoided it in the first place. Elvis is running a bit late to class that day, he's still there before it starts but there's more people in the room and you barely hear the tap of his cane before you feel his warm hand on your shoulder and you swear you feel the heat from the rest of his body against your back as he leans over to you, his voice pitched low and rumbling in a way that has you shivering just slightly, your eyes fluttering shut as images of him speaking to you like that as you roll together among his sheets before you open your eyes.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be, Y/N." He murmurs and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his tone before you shake your head in an attempt to clear it. "Better than everyone else around here."

"You assigned the seat and I'm good at following directions when I want to." You answer, clenching your pen just a little bit tighter in an effort to keep yourself from doing anything stupid. You had a plan forming in your head for how you wanted this to go and falling for him- falling immediately into his arms wasn't how you wanted it to go in the slightest. "I wanted to for you, Elvis."

You swear you feel or maybe you hear Elvis growl a little at your words and it has your toes curling in your boots just a little. Against your will you shiver just a bit and when Elvis speaks you can definitely hear a smile in his tone as he squeezes your shoulder. "Oughta get a jacket, darlin'." He removes his hand and you bite your lower lip to keep a noise from escaping, knowing you're around people before you hear the rustle of fabric and then feel the the warmth of fabric and the scent of Elvis- at least you think it's his scent- envelop you as you look down and see a jacket that is not your own around your shoulders. You open your mouth, turning around to say something before he shakes his head, motioning for you to put it on properly, not just have it draped around your shoulders "Use it for right now. Just gotta give it back after class. Hate to have you distracted because you're cold."

There's words on the tip of your tongue but they're jumbled up the second you look at Elvis and see him without the jacket, his shirt tailored enough that the buttons don't rebel against any part of his waist or chest and you merely nod, swallowing your spit as to not drool. You had already found Professor Presley attractive from afar and you had already planned on trying to sleep with him but this- oh this might be a genuine problem. You're not used to this, you're used to the men being sweet maybe but not- like this and not after such a short period of time. By the time Elvis has turned around, ready to start the class you find yourself burrowing into his jacket, hugging it tightly to your chest. You don't bother to look up at him until he calls on you, unsure if you want to see just how he feels about you wearing his jacket but when you do look, you find yourself relieved and a little put out that he doesn't seem to care about you wearing it. Almost as if he had offered it to you with the intention of just keeping you warm with no strings attached and nothing behind the action. It's not an unwelcome concept just entirely new. By the end of class you find that his jacket around you has relaxed you, made you a little more bolder than you already are and it appears to be lighting a fire in Elvis's eyes that spurs you on even more. You wait until the class has dispersed other than the two of you before you make your way down to the podium, your books in your bag. You've made no motion to actually take off Elvis's jacket and when he notices his heart stops in his chest. He thinks you look good in his jacket, thinks you look like you belong wearing his clothes and he has to look away for a moment, leaning on his cane before he exhales.

"Do ya want to come to my office?" He starts, allowing one of his hands to play with the lapel of the jacket. "We had to cut our debate short so everyone else could have a chance but-"

"I'd love to." Your answer comes so quickly out of your mouth and so eagerly that both of you look a little startled by it before you both start to laugh. "Sorry- I meant-"

He shakes his head, moving to smooth out the shoulder of his jacket. "Don't apologize. Not for bein' excited like that. It's- People like my class, darlin' but not usually like this. It's nice to see. Helps me- I enjoy it, alright? Don't even dream of being sorry 'bout it. Just walk with me to the office, alr'ght?"

You nod and start to follow him. Maybe it's because he usually takes his time when he heads into class but you're prepared for one speed as far as walking goes only to realize you're more behind than you mean to be before you've even crossed the threshold of the classroom. It's easy to catch up though and you find yourself just talking to Elvis about the debate you had been having with him, keeping your passion in check as to not alarm anyone passing by but still proving to be enough of a spitfire that Elvis can't help but have a huge grin on his face as he fires back his own responses. More than once his eyes drift to his jacket, not that you notice too busy hugging it just a little closer to your body for the warmth but the surprising comfort you find it brings. The pair of you reach his office quicker than either of you expect as he unlocks the door and ushers you in. A part of you wonders if this is it, if this is him just bringing you in here like every professor ever has after you've charmed them only to have sex and be done with it. He motions to the couch for you to sit on as he moves the chair out from behind his desk to relax in it across from you, his eyes glinting with unashamed delight. "Lay it on me, Y/N. Tell me what ya were really thinkin' in class."

The grin that breaks out on your face is one of unabashed joy that has Elvis's heart stuttering in his chest for a moment before you launch into a tirade that has him laughing loud enough that the professors in the rooms beside him take note and the members of his mafia who are about to come see him stop at the door before turning around, figuring interrupting whatever that is can wait. it's not that Elvis hasn't laughed like that in a while but- they forgot what it was like to hear him laugh like that when he wasn't with them and hearing your laugh follow suit as he talks they realize it's best to not interrupt. You're a bit late for your next class as you lose track of time but when you finally do leave the room you make move to take off the jacket only to have Elvis's hand stop you.

"Keep it. Got a dozen like it at my house. Won't miss that one." He pauses before he shrugs. "'Sides, you look good in blue."

Your breath catches in your throat as you try and speak, try and tell him that you can't keep his jacket before a baser part of you, a part of you in the back of your mind wants to let him lay the claim on you. That's what you want, right? To have him want you enough to fall into bed with him and maybe you get to keep a trophy for once to go along with the one you'd leave him. His eyes rake over you for a second before he opens the door and motions you out. "Go on, out ya go, just tell 'em I kept ya real late. They'll understand, I can talk an ear off."

A nod is the only thing you manage as you leave, risking a glance back at him and seeing nothing but him closing the door. You think you hear him say something like "lord have mercy" but you figure you imagined it.

And so it goes throughout the semester, you wearing his jacket on certain days you see him, finding yourself in his office practically every day after class with the only exception being the occasional days you had plans in between his class and your other one. It becomes an integral part of your life, arguing with him in class as you take notes and arguing with him in his office in between sips of Pepsi and coffee and finding out more and more about him as a person. Noelle tries to press about how things are going- noting how you seem happier than she's ever seen you in an attempt to sleep with a professor. There's a thought you have to tell her, to pick her brain on if this is what a normal progression to something more as an adult is supposed to be but you find yourself wanting to keep whatever it is you're nurturing with Elvis a secret even if half of his Memphis Mafia has come in to see you grinning on his desk or him laughing with you on the couch. Their knowing looks say it all but you don't pay any mind for once and Elvis- well he does command them for a reason. Both of you are so used to each other's company that when you leave his office one day you can't help but notice he's looking a little more tired than normal and you find yourself frowning before you leave, your hand moving to cup his face with the sleeve of his suit jacket just covering your hand.

"Are you feeling alright? You look-" Worn out, tired, sick are all the words that come to mind before you settle on a single word. "Exhausted."

Unbidden, Elvis nuzzles into your hand, his eyes shutting momentarily before pulling away, realizing what he's doing. "'m fine. See ya after m'next class?"

Your frown deepens before you exhale as you nod. "Always. Get some rest, though, Elvis. Can't have you letting me win because you're tired."

"Never." His chuckle is soft before he shuts the door, leaning on it for a second before he moves to the couch to just take a nap. What you don't know is that Jerry and Joe find him after he misses his next class to teach and that they take him home, setting him up to rest before leaving.

Finding out that Elvis isn't there for the next class feels as if someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Sure it's a little chillier outside now, but that has nothing to do with the cold that seeps into your bones and has you hugging his jacket closer to you. You're not- You shouldn't be worried about him the way you are, you think. He's just your professor and while he's proven to be the nicest person and has proven to be so much more in general this isn't what you're supposed to do with a professor. This isn't- you know better, because they've always got a wife or a girlfriend or you're just the fling for the semester but it feels- you feel different with Elvis. Sometimes in his office you just do your work for other classes, enjoying the company of someone who you can talk to so easily after an invigorating time in his actual class. He never seems to mind, never makes a move to kick you out, instead choosing to kick back on his couch and read some text for the lesson plan for next week, occasionally asking you if you think he should tweak the plan. You had told him to tweak this week's plan about two weeks ago and you had been excited to see what he was going to do with it only to find him not here, instead a substitute- you think it might be Joe from the Memphis Mafia stepping in. You know this isn't his area of expertise, but you figure maybe he's one of the few people Elvis trusts to teach his class.

It goes by fine enough with a paper being assigned to make up for the fact that Elvis wasn't there. You find yourself wondering if he's alright, worrying if he's sick as you hear whispers from your classmates about the status of his health because "he had this problem last semester didn't he" and "not surprised, we've all seen how he is coming into class". You feel like you should have noticed something was up and done more to help before you realize you couldn't have because there's some things Elvis keeps close to his chest. The thoughts that run through your mind and envelop it to the point where before you realize it you find yourself at his office door, completely forgetting that he's not there- that he's not here for you to talk to. Once again you hug his jacket closer to you, sniffling as you head to your apartment before your next class. He- He'll have to be there for the class after this one. You just had to wait a couple of days to see him.

Those two days feel like some of the longest ones in your life, Noelle notices the change in your mood and asks if it has anything to do with the lack of Professor Presley today. Your answer- or lack thereof give her the only confirmation she needs before pulling you into a hug. She doesn't press beyond that, choosing to distract you with tales of how stupid everyone else is as the hours tick by until that Friday. You've got on one of your own jackets, choosing to leave behind his at your apartment just in case he isn't there again. As you put on the finishing touches to your paper you hear the tap of his cane and a tension you didn't realize was within your shoulders dissipates, causing them to droop down just a little before you feel his warm hand against your shoulder and his breath against your ear.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be." His voice is tired and tight but you can still hear the warmth and the rumble you like to think he only reserves for you.

"Always. Even when you're not here." You answer, turning a little try and look up at him before he shakes his head and mouths the word later to you as he slowly makes his way to the podium. He sits on the chair, a true rarity that has a few gasps including your own erupt from the class before he waves you all off.

"Stomach bug, still feeling a little off. Don't get used to it." He says before launching into the lesson plan a little more subdued than normal but still with enough vigor that the class barely misses a beat.

When it ends you see him still just sitting on the stool before he moves to get up with a grunt as you stand in front of him. "I owe you a meetin' don't I? Last class of the day, right?"

You nod, smiling softly. "You know my schedule too well, Elvis. Last class. So I can be in the office as long as I'd like. If you're not too-"

"Don't ya accuse me of being too tired, Y/N." He starts to walk to the door and motions for you to follow him. "'m older than you all. Can't always bounce back as quick. 'll be fine come Monday. Provided I can get through all these papers Joe decided on assigning y'all."

There's a response at the tip of your tongue that you swallow until you reach his office, watching as he flops onto the couch, his bag falling next to him and his cane following suit. You make sure to not startle him and sit on the coffee table in front of him, your hands moving to touch his knees as you speak. "I could help you with them. The papers I mean. I've- I'm pretty light on my classwork this weekend so I don't mind."

His eyes dart around your face, trying to find a lie in what you've said only to come up with nothing. You're being genuine in wanting to help him and that has a rush of fire traveling from his chest to every part of his body. He's gotten used to women he dates not necessarily caring the way you are right now. Not for the first time since his first class with you he finds himself falling more for you than he already was. It almost makes him feel like a younger man again, makes him feel like that young man tripping over his words with girls while also making him feel like that young man who had girls falling all over themselves for him because of his hips. He sees your face morphing into one of regret before he nods. "If- If you don't mind spendin' a while wit' me 'll definitely take the help."

A smile crosses your features as you grab his bag and start to pull out the papers, splitting the first pile out between the two of you and leaving the room to grab you both Pepsis. He watches you leave and exhales slowly rubbing his face with his hand, praying to every god he knew that he could keep himself in check with you acting so helpful near him like this. When you come back there's a moment where he's about to say something before he stops himself, allowing himself to just focus on the papers, kicking up his feet on the couch while you take his desk. His door is locked as to prevent interruptions and you both find that time passes by quicker than it does when you have conversations. He yawns, looking at the time to see that it's about 5PM and curses to himself. You had been there for five hours with him with no real break. Sparing a glance at you he sees that you're leaning your head on one hand and chewing a red pen with the other. The image of the pen entering your mouth has his cock showing a slight bit of interest before he shifts in his seat and coughs to get your attention.

"Y/N. It's gettin' late you- I'm plannin' on headin' home, 'less you wanna come wit' me, why don't ya just-"

You wave him away with a flap of your hand. "I'll come with you, just let me finish this one. I'm almost done." You pause and look up. "I- I don't have to come home with you."

He should tell you that you shouldn't come home with him and that if you did he didn't trust himself to not do something stupid but something about the way you sounded so earnest made him stop. He was a grown man, he could stop himself from being stupid with you. He could stop himself from pulling you in for a kiss and taking you to bed. He could resist the urge to do all those things, after all, wasn't he already? "I offered, darlin'. Just hurry up."

It takes you longer than you admit to finish looking over the paper as you keep getting distracted by looking at Elvis off and on. Watching him clean up his office just a bit before you finally finish and he whisks you away to his car a black cadillac that you feel fits him surprisingly well. The car ride is quiet and you both don't dare to look at the other for fear of saying something you might regret later. There's a thought in the back of your mind to make a move- that this would be the perfect time to make a move but you stomp down on that thought, knowing that this isn't right. This can't be the right time, not right after he's come back sick and looking haggard. No, you can wait just a little longer. Especially once you see just how big his house is. Honestly, you'd define it as a mansion if you're being one thousand percent honest but it's his as he casually reminds you as he opens the door for you to exit the car.

"Home sweet home." He pauses. "I have a lot of guests over and- the rooms help for them."

"I wasn't going to ask." You whisper, taking in the sights of everything as you enter the house.

Elvis tells you to get settled in the living room where you find a record player and a sea of records nearby. You know that sometimes Elvis like to incorporate gospel into his classes but these records aren't just gospel. In fact some of them are his records. Your ears hear Elvis's cane even as it's muffled by his carpet in the room and you can't help but ask the first question that comes to mind the longer you stare at the records.

"You used to do music?" You ask innocently enough as you flick through the records, stopping on one whose cover makes you chuckle a little to yourself as you pull it out. The man in front of you and the man on this cover are the same person- you can tell in the eyes but physically they're two very different people and as you glance back at Elvis setting down two Pepsi's and some you find this one is the one you prefer over the one on the cover.

His eyes flick up to you as you fiddle with his record player and place the record on it. He looks down at the floor, a rare show of bashfulness that you find yourself smiling at as he finally speaks. "Aw hell, yeah. Back before everythin', back before I got drafted I did. Stopped- right 'bout '60? Made my manager mad as hell but I couldn't do it no more. Constantly gettin' told I was doin' things wrong, being a bad impression on the youth. I wasn't that old ya know? Wasn't that much older than the youth they wanted to say I was corrupting. Like everythin' I did wasn't t'make sure my mama- god rest her soul- and my daddy and my grandma were taken care of." Elvis pauses when he realizes just what record you put on and he has to hold back the urge to just stare at you. Of all his songs. Now or Never?

He runs his tongue across the front of his mouth and just looks at you before crossing the room in a few short strides. A short exhale leaves your mouth, almost a reverse gasp as you find yourself a bit startled by the way a switch appeared to be flipped with him. You’ve never been the most demure but you find yourself looking down for a moment before you feel his hand underneath your chin. You find that your brain seems to shut down looking at Elvis. There’s something in his eyes as he looks at you, something that you can’t quite put your finger on but it’s heady and has your body shivering just slightly at the intensity of whatever emotion is hidden his blue eyes.

“Can I hear you sing?” You ask before scrunching up your face. In all the times you’ve been talking about class and occasionally about things outside of it, he had never mentioned a music career. This had to be something he didn’t like to talk about and here you were asking him to sing. Even though you want to hear it- you’re starting to- you have been caring about him too much to put him in too much discomfort. Your mouth opens to tell him he doesn’t have to before you hear it as he pulls you closer to him.

His voice is deeper than in the recording, fuller you suppose but it sounds no less beautiful, no less rich and inviting than it does on the recording. The vibrations of the song, of his lungs and of his throat and chest as he sings settle something you didn’t know was giving you a problem. It’s then that you take a chance, a stupid chance you feel like you might regret, of just leaning your head on his chest. He doesn’t push you away and he’s thankful you can’t see him looking at you, can’t see inside his head and realize that he wants to just stroke your hair. He wants to feel you this close to him more often than not, he wants to have you be this gentle and comfortable with him. It’s easy enough to tamp down on the urge though, to tamp down on even telling you this instead choosing to start to sway along with the music. You pick up quickly, swaying back and forth as you listen to him sing, noting that some lines seem to be getting more attention than others.

Maybe you're just imagining it, maybe it's just the natural cadence of the song but you shut your eyes as you sway, allowing yourself to pretend he's saying things like "my soul surrendered" and "I spent a lifetime waiting for the right time" to you. That he's singing those to you while in your bedroom, or maybe in another life while he's on stage, telling everyone that he loves his- girlfriend more than anything. You look up to try and meet his eyes only to realize that he's not looking at you so you sigh remembering it's only a fantasy but one you're willing to indulge in, perhaps one you can make a reality if you just took the plunge, if you just finally admitted to him that you wanted to be with him intimately and more. His heartbeat feels fast but you've never been close enough to listen, close enough to hear how his heart beats a strange percussion just for you. The song is reaching its end you think and you feel Elvis's lips- you think- on top of your head, kissing it softly as he practically whispers a line of "kiss me my darling, be mine tonight" against your hair.

He's asking you, he's begging you he thinks but you don't notice. You don't realize as you hum along as the song ends, his heart threatening to twist at how it feels so goddamn natural to have you like this- to have you in his arms. It's silly, what he does next and he's ready to play it off if you hear him but he places another kiss at the crown of your head and whispers soft as a church mouse "my love won't wait".

You can hear him just barely but your mind knows better, it knows that he can't be meaning that. This is just him trying to charm you like other professors have. Your heart though, your heart beats faster, threatening to escape from your chest after hearing it. Maybe- maybe you're not wrong, maybe you're not wrong when you think this is different. Maybe Elvis actually is different than the others. Still- you're not- you want to be the one to make the first move but not here, not in some place as intimate as his home. It's with a heavy heart that you pull back from him, looking up at him with a smile that you hope doesn't betray how delighted you are to hear what he's said to you.

"We should eat." You whisper, not trusting your voice to go any higher but figuring he can hear you even as the record flips to play some song with the words make me know it in it.

He pulls away fully from you and moves to sit down where he set the food and nods. "Course. Then we'll get back t'work."

As it turns out you only get about three more hours of work in before you hear him snoring lightly next to you in his lounge clothes. You don't know when he fell asleep but you see how his body is contorted into something that you figure is him trying to get comfortable and realize that maybe he might feel more comfortable sleeping in his own bed. Shaking him awake isn't the easiest thing but after about a minute he looks at you blearily, his eyes blinking to try and focus on you.

"Come on, big boy, to bed with you." You try and wiggle yourself under his arm, forcing him off the couch a little before he grumbles something and moves into a proper sitting position. He's still not standing up but it's progress, especially when he follows suit as you stand up from the couch, leaning just a bit on you as he tries to get his legs to work to move in the way you need him to.

Elvis is surprisingly easy to maneuver for someone who you'd think once he starts to doze off would practically be dead weight, but you still find that he leans on you a little more than you'd like, than you feel you can handle in the moment. Not for the first time tonight you find yourself looking at his face, seeing the little wrinkles by his eyes, seeing the stubble growing on his chin and realizing he looks exhausted and just at least mildly like he's seen better days. You feel your heart twist at the knowledge that even with you coming here tonight, he's likely in for less rest than you think he needs in the coming weeks trying to catch up. A part of you is thankful that Elvis had changed into his lounging clothes when the two of you had gotten to his house, after all if he hadn't have you might have had to help him change in his state right now and- you truly don't trust that you would have been able to keep your touches helpful and chaste.

As it stands you get him to the bed after pulling down the sheets and lightly push him to give him the hint to lay down. In a moment of clarity, he looks at you as if to voice his displeasure at the idea before he frowns and doesn't argue. Once he's settled himself in with your assistance when he gets his legs tangled in the sheet a little you pull the sheets up, almost tucking him in before placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. You're about to pull away before you feel his hand moving to grab your wrist and hear his sleep addled voice speaking.

"Stay 'ere, Belle. Stay wit'me."

You freeze, unable to move between his grip on your wrist and the shock of what he said just now coursing through your veins and bouncing in your brain. This has got to be a dream, you both fell asleep on the couch and you're dreaming. This is not real. His grip loosens as his eyes flutter shut and his head lolls to the side. You manage to pull away but not before you place yet another kiss to his forehead and walk over to the bedroom door. The words that leave your mouth are barely audible but you know what you say. "Not tonight, Elvis. Not tonight, my Big Daddy. Maybe another night."

The walk back to the couch is lonely and a bit cold if you're being honest, despite the heat in the house. Elvis's jacket is sitting on the couch in plain view of you as you hug your own jacket closer to you. Your eyes drift to the plates that you had left on the table before you head to clean them, setting them where they need to go. A thought crosses your mind to head home but you realize you don't have your car and you're not about to try and drive his home. The couch isn't an ideal place to sleep but you figure it'll do for tonight, at least until Elvis wakes up. There's no blankets around but there is his jacket and you allow yourself to cover yourself with it, inhaling the unique scent of cigars and old spice and everything else that makes up Elvis. The warmth of the jacket has your eyes falling shut quicker than you think is possible.

It's warm when you wake up, warm enough that you take more time than is perhaps necessary to actually open your eyes and register your surroundings. You shift just a little only to realize that where you are at the present moment and where you fell asleep are two completely different places. You had been on the couch alone covered in a mix of your jacket and Elvis's, inhaling the unique musk that was him. It made you feel as if you had taken him up on his offer and joined him in bed, his arms enveloping you and keeping you warm despite the slight chill in the house. You still can smell that unique musk and you can still feel the warmth that accompanied it but your eyes flit down to your waist where even in the dim early morning light you can see the outline of Elvis's arm, you can feel his arm wrapped around you pulling you close. You shift again, trying to see if there's any give to his arm only to have him tighten it as his head moves down to the back of your neck and nuzzles, growling ever so softly.

"Too early, darlin'. Stayin' right 'ere." He mumbles against your neck, placing soft kiss there. "No early bird this mornin'"

You can feel his arousal against your backside and you tamp down on the urge to grind against it, knowing that as much as you want to that's not what- you can't do that when he's still asleep like this. Still, a sigh erupts from your mouth as you feel him shift causing it to thrust up against you just a bit. How had you even gotten in here, last thing you had remembered was being on the couch. Had you walked back here in your sleep? Had you been craving his warmth and his embrace so much that you had done something as silly as this in your sleep? No, you- maybe you had. You needed to leave- you could stay here not for him to see you when you woke up. He had gone to bed alone even if he might not have fully realized it so he needed to wake up alone just the same. If he didn't maybe he'd- no Elvis wouldn't hurt you. He was different but you didn't want to risk the anger, risk seeing his face contort into something you didn't recognize because you let yourself be greedy before you had properly planned. You needed to talk to him before something like this happened. Every card needed to be on the table before you allowed yourself this guilty pleasure of waking up in his arms enveloped by a heat and what feels like maybe the first smatterings of an honest love.

It takes you twenty minutes to detangle yourself from Elvis's arms as you struggle not to wake him and as his arms tighten around you every time you so much as think of moving but you finally manage to grab a pillow that you use to replace your body slowly but surely as you move out of his grasp.

A pillow is a poor substitute for you, and you’re aware of it, knowing fully well that at best it’ll buy you maybe ten or twenty minutes before he’ll wake up and realize you’re not there. Even now you can hear him mumbling your name in his sleep interspersed with Belle, it makes your heart jump into your throat, seeing him clutch the pillow as if it’s the only thing allowing him happiness. He’s- even if he’s meaning you he doesn’t know you probably crawled in here after having a hard time falling asleep or that you slept walked into there. He wouldn’t have reacted well to seeing you in the bed with him, let alone as curled up together as you were. Even as he clutches the pillow he looks so happy, the smile playing on his face as he holds the pillow close. You knew you were doing the right thing, knew that if you didn’t he might regret letting you come to his house and everything up to this moment would be for naught and truthfully you’re not entirely sure your heart would be able to take the rejection that you figure would come when he awoke.

The overwhelming desire to stay there, to crawl back into bed with him chokes you the longer you look at him, look at the empty space beside him before you remind yourself why you’re leaving. Elvis won’t- he won’t do anything to you, you don’t think and yet. You allow yourself the pleasure of placing your hand in his hair, running it through the strands and hearing a relaxed sigh leave his mouth as any tension he had in his shoulders leave them. Before you go you place a kiss to his forehead, mirroring what you had done earlier that night and without much noise you sneak out of his bedroom, grabbing your jacket on the couch before you sneak out the front door as well.

Elvis wakes up about an hour later, his brain not catching on immediately to the fact that you had become a pillow, allowing himself to grind against it for a moment before his eyes shoot open and realize you’re gone. His brain blanks on anything but this one thought.

“Now you’ve gone and left me alone too?”

taglist: @elvisgirl35, @butlersluvbot, @lokis-right-femurr, @godlypresley, @steph-speaks, @lindszeppelin, @eliseinmemphis, @thatbanditqueen, @venus-haze, @lrd98, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy

#elvis presley x reader #elvis presley #big daddy elvis #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley angst #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley smut #elvis x you #elvis presley x y/n #professor presley #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis x you #austin elvis #austin elvis x y/n #ally writes

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strwberri-milk · 10 months

Note

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Heyo there!!!

Soooo how ya doin??? Great??? Great!!! Anyway, I have request. You can do this prompt for any genshin men but bonus points if it's Kaeya or Diluc. Why?? Bcs this pompt is... what if reader had an older protective sister who's like Panty from Panty and Stockin??? Basically, she's very extroverted and playfully mean towards reader as she spouts insults at her but she's never serious about them even if it seems like she is. Although she can seem mean to reader, she can also be all like:

"Ugh, you're just the cutest and smartest little shit in the world!" *starts peppering kisses on readers face as reader groans.*

And

"Do you know how lovable you are right now? Seriously, everyone one should have a sibling like you!"

And she's very protective and hostile towards readers s/o but she eventually warms up to them.

Anyway, thank you!!!

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

ive combined the two a bit bc. i think theyre kinda smilar in some regard!! :D

The two of them didn't know what to do when confronted with such a...strong personality. Of course they both know what to do from a social etiquette standpoint but they almost don't know when to interject in conversation.

Neither of them bat an eye when it comes to the insults since they're used to that from each other, especially if they're post reconciliation. I see the two of them as having a "hostile" relationship that's really all just jokes at the end of the day.

They also both understand that there's a good chance they're going to be ridiculed for a while by your sibling because of how protective they are. To them, they're glad that you have someone like that in your life taking care of you. They will indeed do their best to get on the good side of your sibling, knowing that if they want to be with you then your sibling needs to like them.

Diluc might find your sibling a little too overbearing for him and his social battery drains quickly, but he's very good at hiding the issue at hand. He'll stay quiet and nod along, adding comments when he has something he wants to say but for the most part he's content with just sitting off to the side and just listening.

Diluc is a little easier to win over your sibling's favour. He's polite and charming and he knows exactly what to say. Unfortunately, your sibling clocks this as a result of him being a wine tycoon so he's going to have to prove that he's genuine with what he's saying.

He manages to win your sibling over in a quiet moment of intimacy between you two. Your sibling snuck into your house to surprise you after knowing you had a rough morning. They were about to jump out and surprise you when they heard Diluc's voice lowly speaking to you, comforting you earnestly and peppered with soft kisses. Resisting the urge to gag, they snuck back out of your house and gave you the seal of approval the next day.

Kaeya's a little better suited to your sibling. I like to imagine he's really quite timid when he's by himself/with people he's quite comfortable with so your sibling is definitely draining his social battery and limited extroversion. He can recharge with alcohol but it does have its limits.

When the three of you are all together your sibling definitely ribs him a little harder since he easily parries the jabs politely. He doesn't want to make any mean jokes to them without really knowing their boundaries, which might at first make your sibling think he's a bit of a wuss. Not only that, but his silver tongue makes them think he's a conman, not really trusting him with your heart for the fear that he'll just turn out to be a playboy.

He wins them over when someone starts blatantly trying to hit on him. Your sibling was expecting him to entertain the flirts before brushing them off, not Kaeya just fully refusing to look at them and only doing so to match the challenger with a hard glare. When they scurry off your sibling is treated to Kaeya's very embarrassing ramble about how much he loves you, ending with a very messy kiss to really top things off.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader

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witchfarnese · 2 months

Text

"Bodyguard" || James Valdez x Reader (PART 1)

Summary: You are Camila Vargas' daughter and you're used to your mother's meetings with people who don't seem trustworthy at all. One day, however, your mom invites you to one of these meetings along with a man, James, who she says will become your bodyguard.

I apologize in advance for any possible grammatical errors, English is not my native language.

Pairings: James Valdez x Reader

Word count: 1,5k

Warnings: Swear words, description of sexual content

Mi amor, I need to introduce you to someone.

This was the message I had received from my mother, Camila Vargas. The tone of the message was neutral, but it didn't bode well. I walked through the long hallway of our villa, arriving at the door of her office. I knew perfectly well what my mother's job was, but I had never wanted to get involved, and neither did she feel the need for it.

I knocked on the door twice, and from inside, I heard a voice telling me to come in. I had never been in that room before, and at first glance, it looked like the typical office of an accountant. Standing next to my mom, there was a man I had never seen before. He didn't seem like one of those men with questionable faces that I often saw around the house.

"Mi pequeña, I wanted to introduce you to James Valdez. James is one of my trusted men, and he will be tasked with being your bodyguard," said my mom.

My bodyguard? I looked at the man, and from his expression, he wasn't thrilled about babysitting me and following me around.

"Is something going on?" I wasn't stupid; if things were calm, she would never need someone to protect me.

"Let's just say I'm working on something. Anyway, that's all for now. James, your job starts now," and with that, my mom dismissed us.

I left the room with James behind me, and as I walked down the hallway that led me to that room, I turned to get a better look at James.

"So, you're my new babysitter?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Seems like it," he replied, trying to look elsewhere. He wasn't thrilled, and it was obvious.

"I'm sorry you're forced to do this; it's clear you're not happy," I said sincerely. He seemed surprised that I spoke to him so candidly.

"It's not so terrible to take you out for food and shopping," he said, winking. At that moment, I was quite irritated.

"Do you think that just because I'm Camila Vargas's daughter, all I do in my free time is shopping? Darling, you've got me all wrong," I replied angrily and quickly walked away.

He ran after me trying to catch up, but I reached my room first and locked the door. I couldn't stand the idea that he thought that of me. If he thought it, anyone could.

"Open this door," he said firmly from the other side. I didn't respond to him.

"Y/N, open this damn door, or I'll kick it down," he said again. In the end, I gave in and opened it.

"Thanks," he said, forcing his way in and locking the door behind him. Then he grabbed me by the arms and pushed me against the wall.

"Listen, kid," his face was inches from mine, "I have no desire to make this job harder than it is. I respect your mother; she entrusted me with the most important thing to her, and that's fine. But you're still a kid, and you need to learn that you can't behave like this with me." His words hit me hard and made my head spin. I didn't actually know if it was spinning because of his words or because he was so close to me and in a rather inappropriate position. I nodded, and he let me go. I was nervous; how dare he call me a kid?

"I want to sleep now," I told him, moving away from him and getting under the covers. He settled in the chair at my desk. If I told him to leave, he would get angry again, so I tried not to think about it and tried to sleep.

***

I woke up groggy. I didn't know how long I had been sleeping. As soon as I woke up, I saw James in the same position I had left him, and he was staring at me. "Good morning, princess, slept well?" He was mocking me. I was starting not to like him. I huffed and got out of bed. I was all disheveled and needed to freshen up.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, stretching. I noticed he was watching me, so I looked at him too.

"Want to come with me?" I teased him. He looked at me with a mix of hatred and excitement. After all, he was still a man. I shrugged and headed towards the shower.

"Keep the door open," he said firmly. "Forget it," I snapped.

"Fine," he replied, getting up and following me into the bathroom. He leaned against a cabinet and gestured for me to do what I needed to do. I rolled my eyes.

"Fine, I'll keep the door open, but get out of here," I finally replied. He went back to sit on the desk chair. I undressed behind a corner and wrapped a very large towel around myself. I only took it off when I was in the shower with the door closed. The warm water was so relaxing that I stayed there for a while. Maybe too long, because at one point, I heard a knock on the shower door.

"Oh my God, everything's fine, I'm just relaxing," I replied to the figure of James tapping on the shower. He backed away, and I tried to finish what I was doing quickly before he came back to bother me. After getting out of the shower, I dried off quickly behind the corner and then went to my room. I took out some underwear and a very short and colorful summer dress.

"Can you at least turn around?" I said to James, and he did. I made sure there were no mirror surfaces where he could peek, and then I quickly got dressed. "Done," I told him, and he turned around, still looking at me. His expression ran all over my body. I felt a bit uncomfortable, so I was the first to look away. Then I grabbed the hairdryer from the bathroom and started drying my hair. At one point, I saw James behind me; he took the hairdryer from my hand and started drying my hair. I didn't know how to react to that situation, so I let him do it.

"Thank you," I said at the end, and he didn't say anything. I looked at the clock; it was almost eight, and my stomach wanted to be filled.

"Do you want to go grab something to eat?" I asked him, and he nodded.

He insisted on taking his car and driving me to a place. When we arrived, I noticed it was a typical American diner. We sat at a table and ordered food. The waitress almost had a heart attack seeing James, as if he were the most handsome man in the world.

"Hey, look who it is," a voice behind me said. It was my ex-boyfriend, one of the people I hated the most in the world. "Hi," I barely replied.

"And who's this, your new boyfriend? Are you fucking?" He said. He was starting to irritate me.

"Listen, asshole, do you leave by yourself or do I have to make you leave? I'm not as nice as I seem," James replied.

"Ohhh, so she really gave it to you. Man, you're lucky, she didn't want to do anything with me, using the excuse of virginity," he laughed.

"Maybe ask yourself some questions then," I said, rolling my eyes.

James suddenly stood up, grabbing him by the collar and shaking him.

"Wasn't I clear enough?" His face was inches from my ex-boyfriend's, and it was quite menacing. My ex began to tremble in fear.

"Sorry, man, I'll leave you guys alone," he said, still trembling, and quickly ran away. "You associated yourself with a guy like that?" James said to me, but noticing that I was embarrassed by what my ex-boyfriend had said in front of him, he dropped the subject, and silence fell between us. When the food arrived, I attacked the plate without looking at James and finished it very quickly.

"It was very good," I said only, still looking down. James remained silent, but after a few seconds, he began to speak. "Listen, Y/N, you did well not to go with that guy. You would have regretted it for sure," his words were understanding and comforting, and they made me feel good.

"Anyway, I didn't think you were still a virgin," he added as if it were a normal thing to say.

"What do you mean?" I asked, curious about his statement.

"I mean, you're a beautiful girl, you could have anyone at your feet," he said. "Once again, you've judged me as someone I'm not," I replied, but this time I wasn't angry.

"It seems so," he replied, smiling at me. It was the first time he smiled, and I understood why the waitress had felt faint when we arrived. He was really handsome. I tried to brush off these thoughts, but he seemed to notice. "What's wrong, do you like my smile?" he said, winking, just like I had done earlier inviting him to come into the shower with me. I looked away. At one point, I heard the beep of his phone. He looked at the phone.

"Okay Y/N, we have a problem. I need to take you away from here, to an isolated and safe place," he said, suddenly becoming serious.

I didn't understand what was happening, but with him, I felt safe.

#james valdez #peter gadiot #queen of the south #la reina del sur #peter gadiot x reader #james valdez x reader #man #handsome #shanks #one piece

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

Text

Lestrade x Teen!reader - a safe place

- Lestrade x Teen!Reader - Reader is part of Sherlock's homeless network - @mxacegrey 💜

Sitting in the abandoned train car, you pulled the blanket around you a little tighter as you adjusted the torch next to you so you could see the pages of your book a little better.

“It’s nearly midnight, what are we doing here?” Someone sighed.

“You want answers for you case I know just the person.”

You set your book down and shrugged the blanket off, grabbing the baseball bat you crouched down and crept to the entrance to the train car.

Slowly stepping down, you followed the three people and climbed up on to another train car, creeping along the top of it.

You crouched at the edge, adjusting the bat in your hands as you watched the tallest one stop and the other three followed suit.

“You’re getting better.”

You laughed waved when he shone his torch up at you and you set you bat to the side, resting your arms on your knees.

“It’s late, not safe to be walking around these parts you know.”

“You’re the only person who lives here (Y/N), you’ve scared off anyone else.”

You grinned a little and shrugged, grabbing the bat you leant down and Sherlock took it, handing it to John her reached his arms up and helped you climb down and set you on the floor.

“Thanks.”

You took your bat back and gestured for them to follow you back to your home and the four of you sat down.

Sherlock introduced you to the other two men.

“So, why the late night visit.”

“We need some information that only you can get.” Sherlock said.

“Don’t talk to cops, you know this Holmes, and I don’t work for free neither.”

“I know.”

Sherlock tossed a bag at you as you looked inside, seeing food, clothes and some money you nodded your head.

“What do you wanna know?”

Lestrade pulled out a photo from his pocket and unfolded it, handing it over to you.

Grabbing the torch, you held it between your teeth as you looked at at it, taking in the detail and the writing before looking up at the police officer.

“We know there’s more like this, we believe it’s a message that’ll help us solve the case. But without the rest we don’t know what it’ll be.” He sighed.

“Yeah I can do this for you, you still got that phone Sherlock?”

“Course I do. Also you need to get the cut on your arm checked out, it’s getting infected.”

“It’s fine. Anyways I’ll call you when I have some information.”

“I’m a doctor I can check out that cut if you want?” John asked.

You shrugged, rolling up the sleeve of your dirty hoodie to show him the wound and he carefully inspected it before nodding his head.

“You need to go to the hospital, you’ll need antibiotics.”

“Can’t won’t give me any. Tried a few days ago, threatened to put me in a home or whatever, it’ll be fine.”

John sighed but didn’t say anything else knowing that if you were friends with Sherlock you had to be as stubborn as him.

They all thanked you and left, and John turned to Sherlock.

“They’re just a kid, why haven’t you asked them to stay with you?”

“I have. They won’t do it, they’re happy there, and as long as I bring money and clothes they’re pretty content.” Sherlock shrugged.

Lestrade and John didn’t feel right leaving you there, but they couldn’t exactly drag you away since they knew you’d get away and hide even deeper.

Sherlock sat around waiting for your text the next day.

You spoke to a few people and showed them the picture, and they took you to the next one, and after a few hours of wondering you had found quite a few and sent Sherlock the photos.

You brought some food and made your way back to the train, and you found Lestrade walking around looking a bit unsure.

“Stalking around here isn’t a good idea.”

He jumped and turned around.

“Sorry, I was looking for you. Sherlock told me you found some more.”

“Yeah, here.”

You handed him the phone and climbed into the train car, sitting on the of the broken seats and he followed you.

He sat down and set the bag he was holding on the floor.

“This is perfect thank you so much. I also got these for you.”

He held you the bag and you looked in it, medical supposed and a bottle of antibiotics.

“Damn, pays to be a police officer Huh?”

Lestrade chuckled a little.

“John gave those to me for you.”

You nodded your head and set the bag aside and Lestrade sighed.

“Why are you here? I’m sure your family are worried about you, I can help you find them if you want.”

Your attitude immediately changed.

“I helped you with your case, you can go. Thanks for the stuff and give Sherlock back the phone.”

You got up and walked away from the train car and he sighed, getting up to go as well.

Lestrade spent days trying to find any information on you, but it was like you never existed, there was absolutely nothing, only a birth certificate.

He tried looking up your parents, and to no surprise there was nothing.

“You won’t find anything.”

“Bloody hell Sherlock.”

Lestrade looked up from his computer and handed the phone he had been holding on to back to Sherlock now the case was over.

“What do you know about them?”

“A lot more then you could find on that, but not what you’re looking for. (Y/N) doesn’t have a family, been living on the streets for years, raising by some slightly older kids until they were old enough to go on their own.”

Sherlock stood up and started to walk out when he stopped at the doorway.

“By the way, don’t go there at night, (Y/N) likes to walk around with their baseball bat and will swing before asking any questions.”

Lestrade nodded his head and sighed, grabbing his jacket he left not long after Sherlock and went to the shop before driving back to the abandoned tracks.

The sun was still high in the sky, so it made it easy to spot you sunbathing on the roof of the train car.

He walked closer and you picked up your bag, hitting against the metal car a few times.

“Don’t.”

You sat up, and crouched down, resting and arm in your knee as you used the other to hold the bat over your shoulder.

Your eyes burned into him, carefully watching him and if he was being honest he was a little nervous.

“I brought a peace offering?” He asked.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Food, and water. It’s going to be pretty cold over the next few days so there’s some hand warmers, and old hoodie of mine and another blanket.”

You nodded and lowered the bat, but you didn’t move from the train car and Lestrade walked over, setting the bag on the inside he took a few steps back, hand over his eyes to block the sun.

“How’s the arm?”

“Sore and I think it’s green?”

“Green?”

“You know the colours of leaves and grass.”

Lestrade rolled his eyes a little and gestured for you to come down.

“I don’t deal with cops.”

“Right now I’m not a police officer, I’m just someone who’s concerned about the fact you have a green cut in your arm. Please can I take a look (Y/N)?”

You thought about this for a moment and you tossed the bat down, and you walked to the end of the car, jumped down on a tipped over one, you climbed down from that one and walked over.

You rolled up your sleeve to show him and he held his hands out.

“May I?”

You shrugged a little.

He carefully inspected your arm.

“Right, hang on let me send a picture to John and ask him what to do. That doesn’t look good.”

You sat down while he called John and spoke to him about what to do and he pulled the phone from his ear.

“You haven’t been taking those antibiotics have you?”

You shook your head and he sighed, telling John and after a few more minutes he hung up.

“Right, John said I need to deeply clean it, do you still have those things I got you?”

“Yeah.”

You walked into the train and he followed you and you handed him the bag and sat down.

“This is going to hurt, sorry.”

Lestrade tried to be gentle while he was cleaning the cut, and every time you flinched away he would apologised.

He did as much as he could, and wrapped a clean bandage around it and pulled your sleeve back down.

“I need to go, but I’ll come back and change that in a few days. Take the antibiotics please.”

With that he left and true to his word he came back a few days later, it was pouring it down with rain, and he rushed inside the dry train and called you name.

He carefully looked around, and he found you bundled under some blankets and he walked over, crouching down I front of you.

“(Y/N)?”

He shook you but you didn’t responded and that’s when he began to worry.

Pulling the blanket down, he found you unresponsive and he touched your forehead, it was on fire.

He didn’t think, he grabbed your bag and stuffed everything of your he could find in it, including the bag, threw it on his back and swept you into his arms.

He didn’t know what to do, and in a panic he took you to Sherlocks flat, calling him to let him know what was going on and John was waiting at the door when he pulled up.

“Get them, I’ve got the bag!” Lestrade shouted.

John grabbed you and rushed you up to the flat and Lestrade ran up, sweeping everything from the sofa for John to set you down.

“I didn’t know what to! Something told me they’d run from a hospital.”

“They would, John put this on their head, Lestrade my room there’s a heavyweight blanket, get it.” Sherlock barked out.

Lestrade did as he told, and all he could do was stand her you while John and Sherlock treated you.

It felt like hours until they were finally done.

“They’ll be fine. They can’t stay here though, it’s too small.” Sherlock said.

“Well we can take them to a hospital, you know where they’ll get the care they need?” John snapped.

“They’ll just run the moment they wake up and make it even worse. They’ll wake up soon, but they need somewhere bigger to stay while they recover.”

Lestrade thought for a moment before raising his hand.

“I have a spare room, they can stay with me I suppose. I don’t want them going back out there it’s set to snow for the next week.”

“It’s settled, john get a cab, Lestrade the bag.”

Sherlock picked you up and the three of them took you to the detectives department and set you on the guest bed.

Sherlock told Lestrade what he needed to know, what food you liked and what you didn’t like.

Then John told him how to care for you but made him swear to call an ambulance if you don’t improve within the next day.

When they left Lestrade looked at your bag and decided to wash the clothes in there so they were clean.

He checked up on your and spent most of the day sitting on a chair by your bed while he kept track of your temperature and heart rate.

It was late evening when you sat up, and you felt someone bandaging your arm.

“Remove your hands or I’ll break every finger…” you mumbled.

Lestrade chuckled a little bit.

“It’s just me, Lestrade.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, grumbling a little bit before you slowly sat up.

“Here some water.”

You took the cup and sipped some of the water before you looked around in confusion.

“You’re in my house. Sherlock said the flat was too small for you to stay there, and he said you’d run from the hospital if we tried taking you there.”

You nodded and set the cup aside, pulling the blanket a little tighter around you.

“Are you cold?”

Lestrade felt your forehead and left the room, coming back with a hoodie and held it out.

When you touched it you gasped at how warm it was and threw it on, burying your nose into the fabric.

“If you don’t want to stay here that’s fine, but I don’t want you back on the streets. I can get you a hotel room for a few weeks until something permanent can be sorted out.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ll go in a few days.”

“End of the week? It’s going to be snowing all week.”

You frowned but nodded your head.

Lestrade cared for you, making sure you got better but due to the bad weather a week turned into two which turned into three.

You quite liked it there, a warm bed, clean clothes and food everyday? It was great.

Lestrade didn’t push for you to tell him anything you didn’t want to, but he did sit you down to talk about what was going to happen.

“I can get you a hotel, you can go back to the train car, or you can stay here. It’s completely up to you.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“Of course not, I’d rather you stay here then back on the streets. I don’t feel right sending you back to that.” He said softly.

You nodded your head and looked around the living room.

You didn’t mind living in the train, it was free, no rules, no adults, just you, your bat and the occasional passer-by.

But here, with Lestrade? He got you new clothes, it was warm, he cooked for you every day and taught you how to cook. You could shower everyday and read all you wanted.

“I.. maybe I can stay for a few more weeks, I’m not fully better you know?”

Lestrade laughed a little.

“Right, just till your better.” He chuckled

Lestrade was warned that you went stubborn, but he felt like he was making progress with you, and knowing you were safe and he wasn’t sending a teenager back on the streets put his mind at ease

#bbc Sherlock #bbc Sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock lestrade #bbc sherlock x you #lestrade x reader #lestrade x you #gregory lestrade #greg lestrade x reader #greg lestrade #Lestrade imagine

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cilil · 5 months

Note

I don't know if you take random prompts, but... Irmo inventing hallucination mushrooms with Melkor 😂❤️

AN: I do and I apologize for taking so long - TRSB and S&D kept me busy for a while. Anyway, this was a really fun idea and I hope you enjoy this silly little thing😂💜

๑ Characters/relationship(s): Melkor & Irmo ๑ Synopsis: Melkor shows off one of his favorite creations - mushrooms! Irmo, fascinated by these strange new things, has a few ideas. ๑ Warnings: I guess this falls under drug use (kind of)? XD ๑ Short oneshot

"And what can they do?" Irmo pokes the colourful mushroom in front of him, giggling when it bounces back.

"A better question would be what mushrooms can't do," Melkor says proudly and places another pot on the ground, containing a decaying piece of wood and more mushrooms growing on it.

"Oh?" Irmo resumes his tactile examination of the wondrous new things he has just discovered; it appears as though the squishy texture provides him with endless delight and entertainment, Melkor notices, pleased with himself.

"Simply put, mushrooms can grow everywhere and eat everything," he explains. "All they need are a few adjustments depending on what their purpose is supposed to be."

"Are they like plants?"

"No." Melkor's chest swells with pride; even though part of him despises this question, insinuating that he might depend on the works of Yavanna to make his own, he secretly hoped Irmo would ask - now he gets to explain the true ingeniousness of his creations.

"They are neither plants nor animals, they are their own kind. It may appear as though they are similar to plants, but they feed on organic substances like animals do. Some help with decay, like the ones here... some may be parasites, some may be symbiotes... I have been experimenting with different types."

Irmo nods along. "And what about us eating them?"

Melkor grins. "Well... you can eat them, but some only once."

"Are they that rare?"

He has to stop himself from laughing in response to such a naive question, paired with the wide innocence of Irmo's bright purple eyes.

"No, but some are poisonous."

The younger Vala pouts. "Námo and Estë won't like that."

"Námo and Estë will have to accept that not all of my mushrooms want to be eaten."

The response seems to placate him for the moment, and Irmo picks a mushroom to nibble on it. Melkor stares at him in disbelief, wondering if he either instinctively knew which one to try or if he was just that unbothered by his previous statement. Vala or not, some of his prototypes could have made his fána quite sick.

Irmo looks up at him, chewing thoughtfully. "But what if it was pink," he muses, "or purple. Or if it emitted glitter when it gets poked or if it made me see things or if it made me feel nice –"

"What are you talking about?"

"I was just wondering..."

Ignoring the older Vala's frown, he picks up one of the pots. "May I? Please?"

Melkor hates being questioned. He usually isn't amenable to suggestions of others either – but Irmo's ideas are so odd and outlandish that he finds himself intrigued nevertheless. What a Fëantur could even want with living things such as his mushrooms is also a bit of a mystery to him; but then again, the younger of the two has always been known to find more delights in the physical world than his brother, his strange penchant for gardening and working as a healer alongside his wife being just two of many examples.

And so Melkor sits down next to him and listens as he begins to hum a tune, cradling the pot to his chest. They remain like this for a while, one singing, one observing the change in his creations, until Irmo ends his song with a joyful squeal.

"I am done!" he proclaims. "Our very own marvellous, magical, for-good-mood-only mushrooms!"

Melkor is already in the process of opening his mouth to correct him when he realises that he said "our". Briefly, he wonders whether such a statement is still an affront to his claim of ownership, but he knows he has to concede that Irmo has put a lot of work into these. Today, he decides, he'll be generous.

The mushrooms Irmo is holding are now light purple, with a few pink and blue ones in-between, their caps have cute dots on them and Melkor is pretty sure their spores would glitter if he poked them.

Irmo offers him the pot. "Try eating one."

"Only if you tell me what they are supposed to do first."

"But I did! I told you I want them to make us feel good and see things."

"Fine," Melkor grumbles and takes one, watching Irmo enthusiastically consume a handful.

The first surprise is that they don't taste like cotton candy. The second surprise comes when he begins to feel dizzy, then light, then strangely euphoric.

Has Irmo's and Estë's garden always been so bright and colourful? Melkor's musings are occasionally interrupted by the Fëantur's quiet giggles as he somehow manages to spin around while remaining seated, seemingly untethered from silly earthly things like gravity.

"See how pretty it looks?" Irmo exclaims, rejoicing. "Now everything can be like a dream, even if you are awake! Is it not lovely?"

Amused and bemused alike, Melkor nods. Whatever these mushrooms are doing to his fána may not exactly be safe, but since when has being the voice of reason been his job? He'll leave that to Námo, should they end up incurring the ire of the elder Fëantur with their shenanigans – or Estë.

For reasons inexplicable even to himself, he laughs at the thought. They may come if they so choose, but he's in such a good mood that he might be willing to share. After all, his mushrooms – their mushrooms – seem to be a success, one he will be delighted to relay in great detail the next time Yavanna and Vána complain to him about death and decay.

Irmo has begun to roll around in the grass, and Melkor takes another purple mushroom. Surely even the other Valar would have to agree that something created in collaboration with one of them, something that contains such boundless joy could hardly be evil?

Thanks for reading!♡

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taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @wandererindreams

#irmo #lorien #melkor #morgoth #valar #ainur #oneshot #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing #requests #cw drugs #just to be safe

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apuckishwit · 1 year

Note

Platonic Max and Eddie: “want me to stay?”

(Only if you’re still accepting prompts, of course! ❤️)

“Want me to stay?”

The offer is made quietly. Softly. Barely a whisper that nonetheless carries across the width of the downstairs guestroom in the Harrington house. She still insists on calling it a guestroom, even though it’s hers now for all intents and purposes. It’s been her room for months, but she’s still not quite ready to admit that. Not quite ready to admit that her mother isn’t going to be coming back for her—to take her back to the rebuilt trailer park, or another apartment, or even out of Hawkins altogether. No one can find Susan Mayfield and Max isn’t sure if her mother is one of the many victims of the fissures that had ripped through Hawkins last year or if she sought shelter somewhere else and just doesn’t know that Max survived or if she did know and just chose to leave anyway. Start somewhere new.

Max doesn’t know which option to hope for.

So she calls her room at Steve’s place the guestroom and Steve lets her, nodding along even as he uses the credit card his parents have never stopped payments on even though he’s supposed to be cut off to buy her furniture she likes and clothes she can maneuver into and out of easily on bad pain days and any color of paint she wants for the walls.

She shifts now on the bed, letting the big, fluffy comforter that El helped her pick out fall from her shoulders, and clicks the light on the bedside table. Eddie is lounging in her—the—doorway, hair a wild nest of tangles, dressed in flannel pants and a Hawkins High basketball team shirt that she knows will say Harrington on the back.

“Heard, uh, heard you yelling,” Eddie says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’d sleep through an air raid,” she mutters, sharp and short, but Eddie just shrugs.

“Steve heard you yelling and woke me up,” he amends.

Neither of them have outright said anything, but they all know Eddie spends more nights here than anyone else except Max herself, and those nights are most certainly not spent in one of the other guestrooms.

And here is the thing.

On her good days—days when her limbs don’t ache quite as much, when she feels like she can walk for a while, when her head isn’t aching and her now shitty, shitty vision isn’t blurring worse—she wants Lucas and El. Dustin. Will and Mike, and now Nancy and Robin. She wants her friends (and more in the case of Lucas), wants to go out into Hawkins…to the newly-rebuilt arcade, or to one of the restaurants that are slowly coming back. She wants to claw back any bit of normalcy she can. She wants to smile and laugh with El, and hold Lucas’s hand and let him play with her hair and kiss her like she’s something beautiful and precious when the others are distracted.

On physical therapy days, or days where she knows she has to do her exercises or she’s going to regret it later, she wants Steve. She wants his firm, sure grip on her hands or shoulders, wants his steady presence at her back, wants the way he never coddles her, but also never, ever lets her fall. She wants the way he knows when she can push her muscles and when she really does need to slow down and take a break and the way he lets her rage and snarl and snap at him and just takes it in stride, bitching right back to her the way some of the others still seem afraid to do.

In the night, though…when the dreams won’t let her rest, when every shadow seems to be too dark, too menacing, when she swears she hears a growling, evil voice just underneath the wind, she wants Eddie.

El and Will are the ones who understand what Vecna and the Upside Down did to her best. But Eddie understands it all. The horror of being used by Vecna to hurt their friends. The terror of thinking they would never find a way out, that they’d be trapped and forgotten in that hellscape forever. But Eddie also understands that sometimes her dreams aren’t of Vecna at all. That some monsters can grow in the human world—no horrific government agencies, or interdimensional hell beings needed. Eddie understands all the ways a hard life can break you down, all the ways that people who are supposed to love you and care for you can let you down hard. And he understands all the sharp bits she had to develop to protect herself, is never cut by them the way the others are sometimes, because he had to develop them himself once upon a time, had to keep some of them even after he came to live with his uncle.

Max knows her friends all love her. Accept her. Will never leave her.

But Eddie gets her.

She doesn’t answer his question verbally, but gives a slow nod. Eddie just grins, scrambling into the room and immediately grabbing the overstuffed armchair in the corner and dragging it over to sit by the bed. He flops into it dramatically, and kicks his legs up onto the foot of the bed.

“So, fair maiden, shall I find something to read, shall we discuss the truly hilarious display that was Mike Wheeler trying to convince Hopper that those condoms that fell out of his backpack weren’t his—spoiler alert, they weren’t, teach that little shit to try and peek at my DM notes—”

“I knew it was you!” Max laughs, the tension already draining from her shoulders. She sits back against the headboard, tucking her comforter around her more securely. Sleep probably won’t be coming for a while, but the shadows aren’t as deep and Eddie’s voice drowns out the wind and though Steve never intrudes on their little bubble, she knows eventually the scent of hot chocolate is going to drift in from the kitchen.

Maybe tomorrow will be a good day.

#stranger things #fic prompt #Eddie Munson #Max Mayfield #my writing #Steddie #like background but I don't write anything else right now lol #stranger things fic

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darlinboypresley · 2 years

Text

Baby fever part 3

Austin!Elvis x reader;

Summary: you and Elvis have been married

For about 3 years now and he thinks its time for a baby

Tw/mentions: pregnancy cursing slight abuse alcohol (not by Austin)

You were about 6 months pregnant now. And it was taking a toll on you and Elvis mostly because of you’re health. That seemed to be going up and down like a roller coaster. It made you’re husband worry sick about you.

And his job wasn’t making it any easier as you’re house was surrounded by press and fans half of the time. And the other half of the pregnancy he wasn’t really there cause of work.

It was a Tuesday night as you heard the door open. The familiar sound of you’re husband his voice. And some laughter you walked towards the end of the hall way.

Watching you’re husband laugh with the usual friends and the colonel he brought home for a drink. You smiled slightly as he walked towards you kissing. You on the lips as the smell of alcohol lingered around him.

Usually you could handle that smell pretty well but since you were pregnant it made. You feel sick you smiled softly. He slurred an “there’s my beautiful girl..why are you awake shouldn’t you sleep it’s good for the baby” he said bending down to kiss you’re growing bump .

You chuckled and stroked his hair softly before speaking “well yea…but you woke me up…you’re kinda loud babe” you giggled. As you looked behind Elvis seeing everyone slowly move into the living room before capturing the special moment you two shared with you’re unborn child. “oh I’m sorry darlin” he said still kissing you’re bump. Southern drawl thick as ever.

You felt a kick right at this very moment. As Elvis gasped loudly you giggled seeing he never. Felt you’re unborn child kick he was either at work or the baby simply wouldn’t kick.

No matter how much you’re husband talked and sang to them. “w-was that?” he asked dumbstruck. As everyone who tagged along watched you in awe.

You nodded you’re head excitedly as you looked at everyone’s. faces everyone looked genuinely happy. For the two of you except one person who thought Elvis was more a walking sloth machine than. A man neither you or the colonel could stand each other and he made that very clear.

Elvis looked up at you then looked back at you’re stomach. “can you do that again for daddy lil’ one? Pretty please..”. he mumbled to you’re stomach but sadly you’re baby had already settled down.

As Elvis and the others sat outside in the garden seeing the weather was surprisingly. Nice you sat inside in the nursery slowly rocking the chair back and forth. As you were knitting another little sweater seeing you. Were due in February but little did you know in the garden. Elvis and the colonel were having quite the heavy conversation.

“she’ll only get in the way of you my boy…besides she has workers here maids an her family..she’ll be fine without you here besides don’t you want to put some money on the table before you’re little wonder arrives” the colonel said. Starring intensively back at you’re husband.

Elvis shook his head “absolutely not. she’s comin’ along with us to Hollywood I ain’t leaving my pregnant wife behind I’ll be damned and it’s definitely ain’t going to fuckin happen i don’t care what you think in this matter.” Elvis snapped at the colonel as he took another swing of his beer.

The colonel nodded his head and excused himself. Going upstairs to use the bathroom. As he came back from his toilet visit he saw you. Slowly making you’re way to your bedroom. He roughly grabbed you’re wrist pulling you aside you groaned loudly “what the hell!! “ you yelled as he. Squeezed you’re wrist harder almost breaking it in the process before speaking.

“listen and listen very carefully to what ‘m bout to say little girl. You’re gonna tell you’re husband that you don’t want to come to Hollywood with him. You’re just useless anyway you’ll only get in-“ he was about to finish his sentence. As you got pulled away in the familiar arms of you’re husband. “get out. Get the fuck out!” Elvis said his smooth voice filled with anger. “but mr Presley we-“ the colonel was about to speak but before.

He could Elvis cut him off “I SAID GET OUT!” Elvis yelled making you jump a bit. “you don’t come into my damn house and treat MY PREGNANT wife in anyway how dare you even touch her now leave we’ll talk later.” He said you could hear how hurt he was but also how angry. The colonel just nodded and left.

Elvis looked at you his face turned from anger to worry “are you okay darlin’ how’s the little one god you’re shakin like a leave did he hurt you badly?”. He asked cupping you’re face into his hands. You looked at him tears streaming down you’re face.

“n-no we’re okay” you stuttered avoiding eye contact. With you’re husband whatsoever “a-am I really just a bother to you?” you asked sadness filling you’re voice.

Elvis looked t you eyes wide as he frowned “what of course not darlin’ you two are the best that have ever happened to me. Better than all the fame the money the fans. If I didn’t have you and our little wonder I don’t know who I’d be darlin’ I married you because you bring the best out of me I wouldn’t know what to do without you…. you are my world.”

he said as he pulled you into a hug “now let’s get ready for bed ye? The others already left anyway”. You nodded you’re head a you made you’re way to your bedroom

Elvis knew that the next four months were gonna be rough for both of you. But he was sure as hell gonna make it work cus no one was gonna take either of his babies away from. Not his fans , not his dad and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the colonel get any closer to you or you’re unborn child in any damned way.

tag list:

@thecosmoscollectivee @alligator-person @carolinecakes

Hi creator here this is part 3 of baby fever I might make a part 4 depending on how well part 2 does I hope you guys like it feedback is always welcome requests are open and pls let me know if I missed triggers or grammar mistakes

#austin butler #elvis movie #x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #elvis presley #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #austinbutler!elvisxreader #elvis 2022

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drama--universe · 1 year

Text

I want you back

Requested by anonymous: hello, I really like your stories with the Hierophant. I will be happy if you write a post about him and the reader, where they were each other's first love, but broke up and then met at the game and started dating again.

Pairing: Lee Kun-Hyeok (Hierophant) x reader

Word Count: 1.4k words

Warnings: none

You were dragged along the hallways by Kun, trying to ignore the boy's laughter as you tried to keep up with his speed. You didn't know where you were going, but you were quite certain that Tong Yao would be there and maybe even other teams. You were quite surprised when it wasn't the woman that he was leading you to, but rather to a man. Kun-Hyeok stood there, talking to Si-Cheng and you almost wanting to scream.

You knew Kun-Hyeok, you dated him a few years ago before either of you gained any fame, and unfortunately it didn't really end on the best note. A lot of screaming and crying, which eventually just led to you storming out and leaving the country for a month or two. Since then, you hadn't seen him again nor did you want to. Yet now, you didn't seem to have much of a choice as Kun dragged you closer and closer.

"(Y/n)." Si-Cheng greeted you first, Kun-Hyeok said nothing and Kun started ranting in Korean. You understood nothing, choosing to stare into a distance instead and Kun-Hyeok did the same.

"I'll see you two later." Si-Cheng said, looking exhausted already a he guided Kun away from the two of you and both of you remained in your place with an awkward silence once again. Kun-Hyeok was the first to talk, asking you how you had been.

"I'm... okay." You answered, awkwardly smiling before glancing around. The area was empty and the match wouldn't start until 2pm, which was still 30 minutes away and thus you couldn't really say that you had to leave. You could also not use your phone, because that was left in Kun's pocket...

"This is so annoying..." You whispered under your breath, not knowing what to say to your ex. He didn't hear you, but he did seem to read your mind.

"I want to apologize." He said and you could only stare at him in shock. You didn't know why he did, he didn't really have anything to apologize. If anyone had to apologize, it was probably you instead of him. So you quickly started to sputter words of disagreement, which only made Kun-Hyeok smile.

"You get flustered so easily." He said, which only made your face heat up from embarrassment and he chuckled again.

"Anyway, I stand by what I said. Would you maybe like to go eat something so we could talk?" He asked and you nodded softly, a bit too confused to understood what exactly was going on. Then he left and you remained on your own, staring at the spot where he previously stood while trying to process everything.

The glass in front of you was long empty and your stomach was rumbling loudly. You had been waiting for 20 minutes now, no sign or text from Kun-Hyeok and at this point everyone was giving you looks of pity, only making you more jittery and annoyed. Just when you wanted to leave, Kun-Hyeok entered and he looked like he had ran all the way from his home to the restaurant. He looked distressed when he couldn't find you, so you stuck your hand up and he smiled.

"Sorry, my manager didn't stop talking." He confessed and you shook your head, understanding what he meant well enough. You remember how you once missed your flight home because your manager wouldn't shut up, so... Nonetheless, you quickly ordered some food to stop the earth quake in your body.

"You were hungry. Sorry for making you wait so long." "Stop apologizing and eat instead." You said, grabbing the food that arrived on the table immediately. Following your lead, Kun-Hyeok also dug in with glee and it went silent again. It wasn't an awkward silence, rather a comforting one that neither of you minded. Finishing the food didn't take long, the table empty after only 15 minutes and now you were basically forced to talk.

"How have you been these last few years?" You asked, grabbing your drink as you waited for an answer. He thought about it for awhile before clearly being okay with the answer he came up with.

"I have been well, but I must admit that it has been difficult. I was quite lonely after our break-up." He said and you nodded, agreeing with the thought easily. You felt the same back then, being so used to his presence and then suddenly he was gone. It took a couple of months to get back to your original self, but even now you sometimes felt lonely. You were so focused on your thoughts that you barely noticed as Kun-Hyeok asked you something.

"Huh? Sorry, what did you say?" You asked and Kun-Hyeok put down his cutlery, softly sighing before opening his mouth to speak again.

"Can we stay in touch after this? I know we ended on a bad note, but I did really miss you..." He confessed and you paused, sighing as you looked to the river beside you. You wanted to, but you were a bit against it. You were sure you'd eventually would start liking him again, although you were sure that you were already crushing on him again and you had a feeling that he wasn't over you either.

"Alright." You didn't think about it any longer and just decided to go for it, what harm could possible go wrong?

"You're doomed." Tong Yao spoke and you could only agree with her at this point. You reluctantly asked for her advise, as she was the only one that you knew that had a steady relationship, and you were honestly annoyed with the fact that you had done so. The woman had been helpful at first, but now she was snickering softly at your situation. You didn't know when it happened, but you had fallen and you had fallen hard. Your crush on Kun-Hyeok had grown once again, causing you to want the man as your lover again like before. It infuriated you to no end, but the heart wants what it wants and in your case that was Kun-Hyeok.

"What do I do? Seriously, what?" "Go for it! He clearly likes you too, your the only one who doesn't see it." Tong Yao said and you scoffed, shaking your head. You did kind of know, Kun-Hyeok wore his heart on his sleeve and that was also very clear to you. You had caught him staring at you a few times already, but usually you ignored it. Why? Because you still weren't sure of anything, not even your own feelings. You worried that you might not love him, that your feelings might just be the familiarity that you had with him or something along those lines. You didn't want to hurt him in any way, but it was starting to hurt you after months of worries and anxiousness. So your feelings were much clearer now and you might follow Tong Yao's advise.

Your phone rang loudly, scaring both you and Tong Yao. Kun-Hyeok's name flashed on the screen as your ringtone rang, but Tong Yao was quicker in grabbing the phone than you were.

"Hello~ (Y/n)? Yeah, they're here. Can they come downstairs? I'll tell them!" Then she hung up and you stared at the girl in shock as she handed your phone back, grinning from ear to ear.

"Go on, go downstairs." She teased and you reluctantly got up, rolling your eyes at Tong Yao's giggles as you made your way down. You ignored the others in the dorm and went to the front door, opening it and giving a smile to Kun-Hyeok. Pulling him along for a walk, you waited for what he was going to say. When he stopped, you turned and faced him.

"I want to be with you again." He stated shortly and you stared at him, staying quiet while trying to progress his confession. Then you nodded, agreeing with him without saying much of a word. The smile on Kun-Hyeok's face grew and you couldn't help but return it before getting closer and kissing his cheek.

"Date tomorrow, I'll send you the info." And then you walked off after kissing him on the lips quickly. The man before you turned red, watching you walk off with a small smile.

He was glad that he took the first initiative.

#falling into your smile x reader #falling into your smile #falling into your smile hierophant #falling into your smile hierophant x reader #fiys hierophant x reader #fiys #fiys hierophant #fiys x reader #hierophant x reader #hierophant #reader insert #requested #x reader

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skyward-floored · 1 year

Text

Febuwhump day 14 - captivity

THIS IS REALLY DUMB I don’t think it even counts as whump it’s just silly but my brain is just fried so anjfdfhddghjk

Spirit is spirit tracks Link, Windy is wind waker/phantom hourglass, and Hue is a link between worlds/Tri force heroes

Minor blood warning, but it’s really not much :)

Courage of ages explanation

————————————————————

“Sir?”

“Spirit for the love of Jabun quit calling me that.”

Spirit let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry si— um, Windy. Do you... know what they’re going to do to us?”

Windy sighed, and rested his head against the cold stone behind him, chain rattling where it was hooked around his wrist.

“No, I don’t know. Nothing good though I’m betting.”

Spirit frowned, and looked down at his own wrist, an identical chain locked around it. He tugged it a little, a thoughtful look on his face, and Windy looked down at his own, wishing he’d managed to hold onto the lock pick he kept in his sleeve.

The Yiga had been thorough though, stripping him and Spirit of all of their possessions before throwing them in the cold stone cell. Windy had heard them muttering something about “moving them to base”, but he hadn’t caught any more before they’d left, and he knew he and Spirit needed to get out before they were moved.

Or they likely wouldn’t be able to get out.

“Got any ideas?” he asked the younger boy next to him, and Spirit shrugged, shivering a little. The Yiga had taken his bandana, and he looked somewhat cold without it.

“Well... we need to get these off obviously,” Spirit said, jingling his manacle. “They don’t look too well made, but I don’t if we can break them without any tools. And there’s nothing here to pick the locks either,” he sighed, and Windy groaned.

“Tell me about it. They took my good lock pick too, that thing was hard to get my hands on,” he huffed. “And going to be a pain in the butt to replace.”

“Well then... how are we gonna get out, sir?” Spirit asked, and Windy gave him a flat look.

“What did I say about the sirs?”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, I don’t know how we’re gonna get out, but we’ll think of something,” Windy reassured, fiddling with his chain again. “Maybe some of the links are weaker than the others, and we can just break them?”

Spirit shrugged and began to mess with his chain, thumbing along the metal links before letting out a small snicker.

Windy raised an eyebrow, and Spirit cleared his throat.

“Uh, just um... Links.”

He snickered again, and Windy laughed along with him as they continued to fiddle with the chains, a somewhat comfortable silence falling between them.

Time crawled by, neither of them sure of how long it had been since they’d landed in here. Windy couldn’t help wishing Sprite was here; he didn’t want him captured obviously, but he’d at least be able to tell them how long it had been. The cell was windowless, and no natural light shone down the hall either, so they had no way of knowing.

The uncertainty of their situation was setting in again the longer they sat there, and Windy fidgeted endlessly with the manacle clamped around his wrist, worry gnawing at his stomach. He didn’t know what would happen to them, and though he was well aware Spirit could handle himself, he couldn’t help but worry how he was going to keep him safe.

He was mulling all of this over for the third time when Spirit’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up at the younger boy.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Oh, I was wondering if... do you think the others’ll find us?” Spirit asked, his voice quiet.

Windy immediately nodded, nudging his side and giving him a reassuring grin.

“For sure. We’ve got like, three trackers in our group, they’ll find us. I mean, if we don’t get out of here first anyway,” he said with a wink. “I bet Gloam is already on our trail.”

“And worried out of his mind,” Spirit added with a little smile, looking better as he leaned against the wall.

Windy grinned back and was about to reply, but the door suddenly rattled, and they both froze and looked over at it.

The door rattled again, and opened to reveal two Yiga standing in the doorway, which Windy promptly glared at. They completely ignored him though, and instead threw something inside the cell without further ado.

Except it wasn’t a thing at all, it was Hue, and Windy lurched forward as his fellow hero hit the ground with a small grunt.

“Hue!” Spirit said in shock, but he didn’t seem to hear him, barely moving even when the yiga that had thrown him in laughed and slammed the door behind them.

Windy pulled himself as far forwards as he could to where Hue had landed, giving him a nudge with his toe. The green-haired hero groaned, then raised his head after a few more pokes from Windy, looking around in confusion for a couple moments.

“Hue are you okay?!” Spirit frantically asked, and Hue merely blinked at him.

“Hue, hey Link, are you okay?” Windy asked as well, worry tightening around his throat. Hue stared at him for a few seconds, blood trickling down his temple and confusion in his eyes.

Then he startled and sat up, wincing a bit at the abrupt movement.

“Windy! Spirit! I found you!” he exclaimed, and Spirit frowned.

“Well yeah, but now you’re stuck in here,” he pointed out, and Hue drooped a little.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, the others were close by, they’ll notice I’m gone soon I bet,” he said brightly, then winced and put a hand to his forehead. “Ow.”

“What did they do to you?” Windy asked, and Hue slid next to him when he motioned him over.

“Ah... they kinda snuck up on me while I was looking for you guys. Think they tried to knock me unconscious, but they sort of missed and just nicked me a little, enough that they were able to grab me,” he mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed. “It’s not that ba— ow!”

Windy had prodded the side of his head where the blood was thickest, and Hue lurched backwards, giving him an annoyed look.

“What was that for? I said it wasn’t that bad!”

“The blood all over the side of your head kinda makes me want to disagree with you on that,” Windy drawled, giving him a poke. “Plus the fact that you got thrown in here and didn’t move or recognize us for a solid thirty seconds.”

“Does he have a concussion?” Spirit said worriedly, and Hue let out a huff.

“Peu importe I’m fine,” he grumbled, and Windy ignored him, pulling his head down so it was resting on his lap.

“Well whether you’re fine or not, I think you should take it easy just in case,” he said amicably. “Even if it’s not a concussion, you were obviously bleeding a fair amount.”

Hue let out a long sigh. “Fiiiiine.”

Hue was obviously annoyed he’d been caught, so Windy simply began to braid a bit of his hair, the other boy slowly relaxing but as he worked. Spirit slid closer to the two of them, and they sat together in silence again for a bit, Windy worrying at the blood caked in Hue’s hair.

“How’s everyone else?” Spirit piped up eventually. “Are they coming?”

Hue waved his hand in a so-so manner. “I mean... yes? We’ve been looking for you guys all day, but I guess I’m the only one who went in the right direction since I’m the only one the Yiga grabbed. Unless... they’re about to toss someone else in here!”

They all turned to look at the door, and several moments of silence went by.

“...okay never mind.”

“All right, so we can’t necessarily count on the others,” Windy said thoughtfully, rubbing a hand on his chin. “They’re close though at least. We’ll just have to get out ourselves.”

“But we’ve tried everything, there’s no way out of here except the door,” Spirit frowned, then jingled the chain around his wrist. “And these aren’t coming loose so we can’t even get there to try and get it open.”

Windy sighed, resigning himself to another several uncertain hours stuck in here, but Hue abruptly sat up, startling him as he excitedly held out his wrists.

That didn’t have any chains clamped around them.

Windy stared, hope returning in his chest as a grin stretched across his face. If Hue wasn’t chained up, he might be able to get them out of their chains, and the next time the Yiga came in the cell...

“They forget to chain me up,” Hue said with no small amount of glee, and Spirit’s face lit up. Hue flashed the both of them a bright smile, and Windy returned it.

“We’re getting out of here guys.”

#legend of zelda #legend of Zelda au #courage of ages #coa Windy #coa Spirit #coa Hue #writing from the floor #febuwhump #day 14 #captivity #febuwhump2023 #stupid ending but blah I’m done looking at this #Hue is a riot I love him #and Spirit keeps calling poor windy sir because he’s like MYTHICAL in his time #windy hates it

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angst-fairygodmother · 1 year

Note

48 for Spotify with Joe Velasco?

A/N: I think I lost the plot a bit, but it came out quite nicely anyway, if I do say so myself.

Word Count: 500 exact

Rating: M - heavy makeout/foreplay; implied sexual content; one use of a swear

Spotify Wrapped Mini Fics

Your skin buzzed with the phantom hum of the bass that had been playing in the club. A knee pressed between your legs, and the hard plane of a muscular chest leaning in kept you pinned against the cool surface of the wall. In contrast, the lips that trailed along your neck and collarbone in your lowcut dress, seeking all the spots that made you sigh, were warm and soft.

You couldn't, and didn't really want to resist the moans that his tongue pulled from you as it danced across your skin. His breath smelled like beer in a way that was more intoxicating than nauseating and his laugh was throaty, practically a hum at your reaction. When the light grazing of his teeth entered the equation, you squirmed, thighs clenching around him and hips rolling for any friction you could find. One of his strong hands cupped your ass, sending a shiver through you as fingertips touched the bare skin where your skirt had risen. His other hand tangled into your hair, tugging on it and tilting your head back so that you looked into his green eyes, their pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me sweetheart?” he muttered, words tickling across your face.

“I have a theory,” you teased back breathlessly.

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

You smirked and shifted your weight so that you could grind your core against his clothed erection, making him nearly whine.

"Fuck me. Not that I'm complaining, but I wasn't expecting you. What are you doing here?"

"I had a date tonight," you admitted softly, knowing it might bring the beautiful moment to a screeching halt but also that he knew you too well for you to lie to him.

"Oh?" His face remained frustratingly impassive and his hands continued to wander teasingly.

"One of the process servers that Carisi uses all the time. Nice guy. He invited me back to his place…"

"Did he now?"

"And I almost got in the uber."

Joe stopped moving, body poised on the edge of stepping back, the whole relationship teetering on a precipice. You felt cold, compared to only seconds before, but it was too late to take the words back.

"But then I realized something."

He waited, eyebrows raised.

"There was only one place I wanted to be, one person I wanted to be with: right here, with you."

Joe stayed quiet, his expression betraying his inner turmoil at your words. And if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn't blame him for it. The two of you had been hooking up since he joined SVU months ago, and you were pretty sure you'd both caught feelings by now, but neither of you would admit it and progress your relationship past semi-regular booty calls.

"If you really mean that, then I have one request."

You nodded, knowing that no matter what he asked of you, you'd give it to him.

"No more bullshit. Just stay."

#Spotify Wrapped 2022 #short fics #Joe Velasco #Joe Velasco x reader #SVU fic #spicy #and just a hint if you squint of angst

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alwaysvivid · 4 months

Note

3 + 7 for all the girls ! :)

tw/ mentions of suicide , sexualization of minors and body shaming.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃 ™ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

3. what's ur worst and best memory from ur trainee days?

dayna hummed softly as she thought out her answer. “well first off i think we can all agree that our best memory was when the ceo said that the 5 of us were going to debut together.” all the girls nodded their heads in agreement. “debuting was one thing but actually debuting with people you like and are actually friends with? unheard of honestly. but thank fuck cause i would’ve definitely lost it if i was with anyone else.” sora chuckled softly at the thought. “i can’t lie i have quite a few bad memories as a trainee,” the soft laugh yuri let out failed to cover up her discomfort remembering the time in her life. “but i’d definitely say it was the time i got scolded for ordering bao buns when i was homesick. she told me i can’t afford to gain weight because i wasn’t talented and all i had was my visuals.” cece rubbed gurus thigh soothingly as she spoke and gave her a reassuring smile. “i had a similar experience. staff would always be on my ass about weight ,” heeyoung cupped her chest with both hands , “i literally just have big tits, my fucking bad.” the girls burst into laughs at her exasperated expression. “god forbid.” she added just to further express her irritation. sora spoke between soft laughs , “well i literally tried to off myself so that’s definitely the worst for me…” there was a silence that fell but sora didn’t let it linger too long. “anyways cece your turn.” cece pursed her lips , “i was being harassed and sexualized by staff at 15 so let’s move on to dayna.” ceces tone felt comedic despite the topic. “i watched so many of my friends come in and debut before me and that broke my spirit as a trainee. i don’t know how i stuck around for 6 years.”

7. how much do u look urself up online, if at all?

“i don’t really look myself up honestly.” sora tilted her head as she tried remembering. “neither do.” dayna chimed in shaking her head gently. cece smiled brightly as she spoke, “ i definitely do, i like seeing what brites are saying.” heeyoung enthusiastically nodded along. “ “ooooooh yesss! brites are so funny, i love looking myself up.” sora and dayna joined in , adding in their own fav memes they’d found of each other as yuri sat quietly on the side watching the other girls laugh. she chose to not answer , searching herself online was always a touchy subject.

#✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ask vivid !#kpop idol oc #kpop oc #fictional idol community #i made these cute lil group gif icons i’m obsessed

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elydition · 2 years

Text

Sparked

Things changed.

It was a slow and culminating change, like gentle waves slowly taking apart a sandcastle long after it had been abandoned.

They started with linked pinkies in public, both with faces flushed and dazzling eyes. It felt loud and confident to the two men at the time. Quick glances accompanied by smiles from their friends and coworkers helped them feel more comfortable in public. No one had dared to say anything directly to them.

They moved on to holding hands and expressing their admiration for each other verbally in public. Kazuha and Heizou enjoyed being able to express their affections without a glaring gaze following them. No one thought much of two men or two women being partners; The Raiden Shogun and Guuji Yae have always hinted at having a deeper relationship. Perhaps that was Inazuma’s own way of expressing freedom.

Kazuha and Heizou had just gone with the changes they developed, but never solidly spoke about their developing romance. They were too busy enjoying each other for now.

They even grew confident enough to give each other quick kisses when they crossed paths, and still, no one would say a thing.

Except for the sparky Naganohara girl.

“Look at you two!” She beamed at them when they approached her. She slung her arms around their necks for a suffocating hug that only was comfortable when from her. “You’re glowing!”

“Miya,” Heizou whined at her loudness but smiled brilliantly anyway.

“It’s… been a tough journey for you both,” Yoimiya said after releasing them, still keeping her hands on their shoulders. “Having someone to share that pain and develop precious memories with is beautiful.”

“I agree, Miya. I hear there’s a special firework show soon?” Kazuha saw her smile grow tenfold. “What’s the occasion?”

“The Almighty Shogun and Guuji Yae requested a firework show for their birthdays this year! It’s such a huge honor, Guuji Yae approached me herself.” Yoimiya puffed her chest out, propping her hands on her hips in a powerful pose.

“Your love is quite contagious,” Heizou said. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing, as always.”

“You betcha! It’ll be tomorrow night if you two wanna catch it.” She winked at the men before her cutely. “Amakane Island is the best for viewing it. I plan on starting a bit before midnight and a little into the morning so it occurs on both of their birthdays! Everyone loves to celebrate their birthdays like this, so there shouldn’t be any disturbances. You two should make it a date!”

Yoimiya grew a little puzzled when the men in front of her turned bright right. Heizou thought she looked like a lost puppy when her head tilted to the side.

“Don’t tell me… you two haven’t been on a date yet?” Yoimiya’s eyes widened immediately when the two nodded slowly. “It’ll be a memorable first date then! Make it a fun little picnic, I’ll see if I can get Thoma to keep the island clear tomorrow night for you two.”

“You don’t have to!” Heizou tried to interrupt her, but Yoimiya continued to ramble on.

“Kuki can probably get the gang involved to keep civilians out if they don’t want to officially lock down the island,” Yoimiya whispered to herself. An idea must’ve crossed her mind when she suddenly turned around, digging around for something in their shed. “Aha! A picnic basket!”

She turned around, smile wide and cute dimples appearing on her cheeks as she extended the basked to Kazuha.

“Feel free to keep it! We’ve had it for quite some time, but have never been able to find its original owner.”

“Thank you, Yoimiya,” Kazuha said.

“Alright, now scurry along! I need to start transporting fireworks already. Go plan your date!”

She sent them off with one last hug.

“You know… I’ve never been on a proper date,” Heizou’s ears turned pink pulling at his collared necklace. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t either,” Kazuha chuckled at their inexperience with standard dating. “Neither of us have expectations then. It can be whatever we wish it to be.”

“I suppose you’re right, Zuzu,” Heizou mumbled, taking Kazuha’s hand into his once more. “Why don’t I settle getting food prepared for tomorrow and you handle anything else? What do people bring on picnics?” Heizou trailed off.

“I suppose we may need to ask someone,” Kazuha interjected. “Perhaps Miss Shinobu may be able to help us out. I’ll go pay her a visit.”

“Sounds good to me. I may be occupied the rest of the evening with the office, but I’ll see you tomorrow night? I’ll get everything wrapped up and see who’s willing to take over some tasks for now.” Heizou pecked Kazuha’s cheek.

“I’m fine with that. See you tomorrow, Detective. Let us meet in Byakko Plain.”

– – –

“Miss Shinobu,” Kazuha found her exactly where he assumed she would be.

Outside the police station.

“Oh! Kazuha! How’ve you been?” Kuki asked, slipping her mask back on discreetly. “It’s been a minute since I’ve seen you.”

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. I hope the gang has been kind to you, as well.”

“I’m debating leaving their asses in there tonight, just so I can have an evening of peace.” Kuki smoothed her brows out with her fingers, pushing away the creases that were forming.

“I happen to have a question for you,” Kazuha cleared his throat. His embarrassment creeping back up. “If you have the time.”

“Fire away!”

“What does one bring on a picnic date?” Kazuha pressed his lips together afterward, directing his gaze to the beautiful trees behind the buildings. A soft snicker could be heard from Kuki, but Kazuha didn’t hear any teasing tilt to it.

“Well, anything you want. Yet, you’re asking me. You have no idea where to start do you?” Kuki deduced correctly.

“Heizou will be handling any food he wants to bring, but any extra items have fallen into my hands to be cared for.”

“Let’s go for a walk then! I can probably help you pick up some stuff as we think.” Kuki slapped his back, which stung surprisingly more than Kazuha anticipated. “First, let’s grab a drink of some type. Don’t want to fall out because of heat stroke before your first date, do you?”

“Miss Shinobu,” Kazuha groaned at her antics.

“Call me Kuki, for Archon’s sake. I’m just a deputy leader for a gang, nothing more and nothing less.”

The two stopped by a stall nearby that was selling some lemonade due to the rather harsh heat of the day. The vendor recognized Kuki and insisted the drinks were on the house, talking about how much Kuki had helped the vendor gain a positive reputation. Kazuha nudged at her with his elbow, a teasing smirk gracing his lips as she stuttered and fumbled for her words.

“We appreciate your kindness. It would be rude of us to object your offer afer hearing what Miss Shinobu has helped you accomplish.” Kazuha said, immediately winning the heart of the vendor.

“Exactly, young man! Now hurry along, you two. Don’t stay out in this heat too long!”

As soon as their backs turned to the vendor, Kuki glared at Kazuha.

“I’m going to tip her the equivalent of what these cost later, I hope you know that.” He just knew she was sticking her tongue out at him. “Anyway. I think Komore Teahouse might be a good place to go for some items. I’ve got an agreement with Thoma so I’m able to go and come as I please, you should be just fine as well.”

– – –

“Heizou! My bro!”

Heizou froze in his tracks, knowing exactly who spotted him. Did he have time to deal with such a rambunctious guy right now?

“I know you hear me, blockhead!”

What case could Heizou mention he was working on that was boring enough for Itto to move on?

“Shinobu sent word of a date!” The oni sang happily.

“I’m ignoring you, Itto.” Heizou verbalized.

“I can see that, Detective! Come on, just a quick word, dude? Spare a little time for your favorite oni?”

“The only oni I know.”

“That’s right!” Itto tossed his arm over Heizou’s shoulders, engulfing him almost completely. “The one and oni, Arataki Itto, has come with a list of restaurants willing to do a picnic meal that will be ready for pick up before the firework show.”

Heizou wiggled his way out of Itto’s hold and reached for the note. However, Itto stretched his arm far above his head.

“A simple thank you is all I require, bro. Let me hear it and you get the note.”

Heizou breathed deeply. Itto’s antics were lighthearted, but he hated his small stature being used against him.

“Fine. Thank you, Itto. Extend that thanks to Miss Shinobu as well.”

“Will do, little man!” Itto slapped the note into Heizou’s hand unforgivingly. Heizou’s hand stung greatly at the contact.

A gentle giant sometimes unaware of his own strength is the best way to describe Itto. Heizou noticed Itto had went on his way directly afterward. It was a bit sudden, but Heizou’s energy was wiped after that brief meeting. He finally glanced at the note properly, recognizing all the restaurants. At the end was a quick note scribbled by Kuki.

Hopefully this note finds you somewhat peacefully, Detective. Itto was the only one able to track you down fast enough. All of these places agreed to do a quick picnic set up for a friend of mine. They don’t usually do these, but connections pay off! Just tell them I sent you and they’ll get things going for you.

Bless Shinobu.

Heizou knew one of the restaurants very well and set out that way immediately. The cases he was wrapping weren’t overly demanding so he could detour for a quick moment. Thankfully, it wasn’t all that far anyway.

– – –

Kazuha arrived early with the various items Kuki helped him decide on. He debated on going to set everything up on the island, but grew much too nervous to do so. He knew there was no reason to become so riddled with anxiety when it came to Heizou, but old habits die hard.

A sweet scent on the breeze alerted Kazuha of Heizou’s arrival. His unique attunement to nature gave him an advantage in some situations, but in this moment, Kazuha’s heart beat harder than before.

“Zuzu! Didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” Heizou wore a beautiful smile. “The chefs at the restaurant were really interested in who my date was.”

“Not surprising,” Kazuha said. “You hardly get along with anyone.”

“Oh, come on! You’re so mean to me, Zuzu,” Heizou said, approaching Kazuha at last. “Let’s head that way?”

Their hands linked almost as if magnetized. It was hard to keep their distance when the other was so close.

“I’m not sure if this is the best time, but it’s been bothering me a bit,” Heizou cleared his throat. “You seem to be worried a lot. Usually in a scenario where you believe you could be faced with rejection.”

Kazuha sighed, looking down at their hands.

“I know, I apologize. It has nothing to do with you, Hei.”

“Would you let me hear more?”

“I assume you’re familiar with my friend who was killed by the Almighty Shogun,” Kazuha heard a noise of confirmation. “I loved him once. I loved him quietly. I stayed by his side and yearned for more. However, I didn’t want to push him away. I realized on the day he died and the day I made my escape, I had never once told him my feelings.”

Heizou was quiet, waiting to see if Kazuha was done. The samurai wondered if he really wanted to divulge more.

But for their sake, he did.

“My cowardice led to me never revealing my feelings to him. One may assume I should act differently. You may think I would be much more forward, never wanting to let a precious moment slip by. Yet, it doesn’t work like that for me. I fear all of my bonds may fade away into nothingness, no matter what I do. Is the journey truly worth it if the end is devastating?” Kazuha mumbled. He stared down at his feet, noticing they stopped at some point.

“Zuzu, look at me, please?” Heizou whispered softly. The sandy beach was difficult to look away from, but Kazuha finally glanced up at the detective.

“Trauma affects everyone differently. There’s no way you should act because something happened. I understand why you may think the way you do, but I want to offer you my companionship.” Heizou touched Kazuha’s cheek gently, and Kazuha simply melted into the touch. “I lost someone once too. My first and last true friend died in my arms as I tried to save him. It felt as if a piece of me died with him. As time went on, the piece I thought was missing mended itself. It still weighs heavy on my mind and heart. It’s not easy to move on.”

“It really isn’t.” Kazuha brought his hand up to Heizou’s, then moved to kiss his palm. “I never knew you experienced such a thing too.”

“You ask if the journey is worth the end, and I would like to think so.” Heizou smiled at Kazuha. “I wouldn’t be here, holding you and comforting you if it wasn’t part of our journey. One day, we will grow old and pass on. Maybe we one day grow apart before then. However, I want to enjoy your company and soothe your worries until that time comes.”

Heizou’s thumb brushing away warm tears alerted Kazuha that he was crying. How could he not have realized?

“You-” Kazuha was for once, at a loss for words. “Your words mean a lot to me, Hei. I hope to stay by your side as well. To protect you and hold you. I don’t want to miss an opportunity again, but I am scared. I’m scared you may decide I am not worth your time or am too much of an emotional burden for you.”

“Not at all, Kazuha.” Heizou put down the basket he was carrying and took Heizou’s cheeks within both of his hands. “My heart has decided it’s content with your company. An open dialogue between us and an understanding of our own emotions will help us greatly. If we put in the work now to understand each other as partners, our time later will not be strained.”

In lieu of words, Kazuha surged in to press his lips to Heizou’s, hoping it was enough to convey his messy thoughts. Heizou seemed to catch on to the silent meaning, which relieved Kazuha.

“Let’s get going before it get’s too late,” Kazuha whispered.

– – –

“Miss Shinobu managed to help us both out,” Heizou said after hearing Kazuha’s adventure with her yesterday. “We will have to do something for her in return.”

“I agree. The food is very nice as well, I quite like the onigiri.” Kazuha said, picking up one of the neatly wrapped triangles. “The use of purple and pink on everything to celebrate the Almighty Shogun and Guuji Yae; it seems Inazuma has really come a long way since the Vision Hunt and Sakoku Decree ended.”

“Absolutely, it’s much more comfortable to live in Inazuma now.” Heizou brushed the hair from Kazuha’s eyes. “I’m glad you’ve returned for now. When you head out with the Crux Fleet again, I may have to coerce Captain Beidou to let me come along.”

Kazuha laughed heartily, only because he knew Beidou would never tell Heizou no once she discovered the relationship between them.

“Beidou and the crew can be rather brash, sure you’re up for it?” Kazuha teased.

“I survive just fine in your company!” Heizou whined. “You’ve been subtly influenced by their pirate-y ways, Kaedehara.”

“I know, I know.” Kazuha could see the men around the firework boxes begin to get ready for the show. “How about we enjoy the view first though?”

“Of course,” Heizou said, wrapping his arms around Kazuha’s waist and dragging him into his lap. The samurai flushed but relaxed in his hold. Heizou littered quick kisses all over his cheek and neck until Kazuha was a giggling mess.

“I love you, Kazuha,” The detective whispered. Kazuha’s laughter faded but the smile never left his face.

“I love you too, Heizou.”

The two sealed their promises from earlier with a kiss as refreshing as the sea. It gave them hope and warmth in a way they never thought they could have.

They could hear when the fireworks went off, but they were too busy exploring each other’s lips to care. If they wanted to spend their entire date simply kissing the other, then who could tell them no?

#heikazu #kazuhei #shikanoin heizou #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact #yoimiya #kuki shinobu #arataki itto #picnic date #first date #confessions #kisses

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