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wileys-russo · 7 months

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childhood sweethearts (2) II a.russo x reader

series playlist part one

lil bit of a prequel, more to come! childhood sweethearts (2) II a.russo x reader

august 13th, 2011

"come on!" you had barely stepped foot over the threshold of the front door before your best friend had grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you upstairs to her room.

"you're gonna rip my arm off less!" you whined at the sheer force of her excitement, stumbling up the stairs as she'd set the pace, legs much longer than yours as she took the stairs two at a time, the taller girl dragging you along behind her without a second thought.

"do we have to go kick the ball around? im so tired." you sighed, shrugging off your bookbag and placing it down on her floor, flopping down on alessia's bed, relishing in the soft alluring comfort of the mattress.

"yes! i have a game tomorrow afternoon." the girl answered without sparing you a glance, throwing clothes around like a hurricane as she hunted through each and every drawer of her wardrobe.

"you had training last night and tuesday." you pointed out sitting up slightly, the girl ignoring you as she continued to rummage through her clothes.

"less its a friday can't we do something fun?" you groaned, head thumping into her pillow. "you sleep over every friday, and football is fun!" alessia dismissed your complaining, kicking her bag into the corner and yanking off her tie.

"you're making a mess." you stated with a shake of your head, the twelve year old pausing to shoot you a dirty look over her shoulder for the comment. "you're such a loser." the older girl jeered with a roll of her eyes. "you're such a meathead." you shot back, crossing your arms and huffing.

"hurry up and change." a bundle of material hit you in the face, alessia already stripping off her uniform as it joined the mountain of clothes covering her floor. "i have my own clothes." you frowned in distaste at the jersey and shorts which you knew would be far too big for you and reached for your bag.

"do you want to get them dirty?" your best friend challenged with a raised eyebrow as you paused, sighing and retracting your hand. "thats what i thought." alessia smiled happily, disappearing momentarily into her bathroom as you changed, neatly folding up your uniform and setting it down beside your bag.

with a roll of your eyes you started to grab items of clothing off alessia's floor she'd tossed around, putting them back where they belonged. "leave that! suck up." the brunette shook her head, shooing you away and instead halfheartedly kicking all of the clothes across the room, into another now crumpled up pile.

"your mums going to kill you when she gets home." you spoke knowingly, alessia shrugging without a care. "doesn't matter. you can just tidy it up later after she's done with her yelling." your best friend smiled cheekily as you shoved her, though you were both aware that is exactly what would happen.

if opposites attracted then that's why you and alessia were best friends.

you loved to read, head always stuck in a book and eyes eagerly scanning each and every word with baited breath. the bell would ring for the end of class and you'd not even flinch as the rest of your peers sprinted out the door. you were far too busy being spun away to another world with your mind scattered in the clouds, following along the adventures of whatever fictional characters you were paying a visit that day, completely oblivious to everything else going on around you.

alessia hated books. the girls passion was football, if she wasn't kicking a ball around she was day dreaming of a football pitch, the feeling of the grass beneath her feet as she zoomed down the sideline, the roars of the crowd as her laces smacked the ball and it soared away in the air, swooshing into the back of the net. and if it wasn't football then you could always rely on her to seek out any other possible ways to burn off energy, able to outrun any of the boys who dared challenge her to a race, even making some of them cry when she'd shamelessly beat them in an arm wrestle.

you were soft spoken, always polite, raised to be well mannered and treat everyone with kindness whether deserving of it or not. you had always been sensitive and well in tune with your emotions from a young age, hell you'd be upset if someone squashed a lady bug, tears rolling down your cheeks thinking of the family it had inevitably left behind.

your best friend was outgoing in every and all sense of the word, big mouthed, loud and proud in her opinions no matter what they were, always speaking whatever thoughts flew to her mind without any sort of filter to scan the possible repercussions of her words. her emotional response was always messy, rushed, chaotic, often using her sharp tongue or occasionally her fists to settle disputes, though that was the territory that came with growing up with two older brothers.

despite the obvious differences you were drawn to one another like magnets from the first day you met, the yin to one anothers yang, imperfectly balanced.

whenever you'd get upset over something your best friend was by your side in a flash, rubbing circles into the small of your back as her arm would sling over your shoulders, sitting the two of you down and pulling you into a tight side hug.

when your fish died she wrote a speech and organised an entire funeral before the two of you had flushed it down the toilet, the girl holding you tightly and wiping your tears as you both watched him dissapear.

she'd sent murderous glares to her brothers later that night over the dinner table as they teased it was only a fish, almost giving gio a black eye for making you upset again, she may have been smaller than them but she packed a mean punch.

alessia would grab the book from your hands once the bell had gone for lunch, rolling her eyes as she realised you'd not moved an inch beside her, folding the corner of the page to mark your spot despite your fussing over how much you hated the dog eared pages.

the girl alerting you to the time would yank you up and out of your seat, having already packed up your things for you, your bookbag in her other hand as she bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, whinging that everyone else had already left as she'd pull you outside.

she'd drag you to where the two of you always sat, handing you back your book and dropping both your bags at your feet. she'd take a seat beside you and rummage around for her lunch, pulling it out and giving you half her sandwich as you did the same with your own. the brunette would quickly swallow both halves in three bites much to your disgust, chattering away to you with a mouthful of food as she did.

it was then you'd open your book again, settling back into where you'd left off as alessia would sprint away with a handful of crisps she'd snuck from your lunchbox. she'd long given up trying to bug you to join in when she'd play football or rough house around at lunch, content to just leave you to your book where she could still see you.

there were rare occasions where she'd stay with you glued to your side, the two of you sat together playing a card game or she'd ask you to read to her. she might not have been very good with speaking about how she felt, but it was on those days that you knew she wasn't her normal self even if she refused to acknowledge it.

it was those days you'd say you were off to the toilet and make a beeline for the canteen, using your pocket money to buy her a chocolate bar and rushing back, wordlessly slipping it into her bookbag for her to find later on.

though most of the time the bell would go and the cycle would repeat itself all over again, your best friend hurrying over and snatching your book, again folding over the page and grabbing both your bags and your hand. pulling you with her back to the classroom, talking your ear off as you hummed every now and then to show you were listening.

you'd both settle back at your desks, your hand tapping at her knee to stop it bouncing as she came down from the adrenaline of running around for the last half hour. you'd make sure to tilt your work pages so she could read them, copying down your answers with an occasional glance to the board feigning that she was paying any sort of attention.

the two of you spent almost every afternoon at one anothers houses, the routine of your weekly adventures like clockwork. you were forever joined at the hip, following one another around like shadows amusing your parents to no end given just how different the two of you were, and how you used those differences as your greatest strengths to lift one another up, you always had.

"you said we would swap!" you huffed in annoyance, hands on your hips as you stared down your best friend as she readied herself to kick again. "no, i said if you stopped one then we could swap." alessia corrected, taking a few steps back and booting the ball, leaving you to yell out and drop to the ground as it narrowly missed smacking you in the head.

"you know this used to be funny to watch, now its just sad." the young striker sighed as she collected the ball and tucked it under her arm, grabbing your top and hauling you to your feet, brushing off the dirt from your knees.

"why do i need to be your target practice? i could be reading while you do this, if im not stopping anything what use am i as a keeper?" you protested, quickly jumping to the side as she fired off another shot which swooshed into the back of the net behind you.

"god you and your books, such a dork." alessia groaned, jogging over to grab the ball again. "i need to practice shooting as if there was a keeper there, its why they use practice dummies at training for the same thing." she explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"i bet if they printed a book on a football you might be able to read it for once you idiot." you grumbled in annoyance, your best friend pausing her wind up to narrow her eyes. "what was that?" alessia challenged and you recognized the look she was giving you.

"no come on it was a harmless comment, less!" you yelled as the brunette charged toward you, tackling you easily to the ground as the two of you rolled around on the grass. "get off!" you demanded as she sat on top of you, your hands pinned under her knees.

"say sorry for calling me an idiot!" "no! you are an idiot!" "fine then, you brought this on yourself." "don't you dare-alessia!" you yelled out, thrashing under her as the girl bent down to spit on the ground, mixing it with her fingers to create a saliva based mud from the dirt. "you're so gross, please don't!" "say sorry then." the girl grinned wickedly, collecting some mud on her hand and hovering it over your face teasingly.

"alessia get off of her right now! you are worse than your brothers sometimes." saved by the bell. the bell being carol russo, your angel and saviour. the older woman stood on the back deck waiting expectantly for the two of you, hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently.

"its getting dark, time to come inside. get a move on girls!" alessia rolled her eyes at her mums calls and wiped her hand on your top, which was technically hers anyway, rolling off of you. "i hate you!" you shoved at her as you sat up and grimaced in disgust at the large handmark on your top.

"you love me." you gasped as you felt something wet on your cheek, alessia wiping a fingerfull of mud on your face. you let out a strangled war cry and tackled her back to the ground, carol sighing with a shake of her head as the two of you rolled around wrestling like boys, alessia whining as you wiped your cheek on her.

"dinners almost done, come on!" at that you both shot to your feet, racing one another inside, sprinting past the woman who couldn't help but chuckle at your antics. as much as alessia gently bullied you sometimes, she was also your most fierce protector, never afraid to unleash fury on anyone who dared even try to pick on you.

and as much as she adored football, her favourite parts of your friday nights together was staying up late watching movies, huddled together under the blankets giggling and talking in hushed voices until the early hours of the morning, sneaking downstairs for snacks and pretending to be asleep when one of her parents would hear the footsteps and come to check on you.

you'd both lay still under the duvet and hold your breath, playing a dangerous game as you struggled with every fibre of your being not to burst out in laughter, hands tightly squeezed together as you waited till her door clicked close again before collapsing on top of one another giggling, hands quickly covering one anothers mouth as you'd hear her parents sternly warn you both of the time through the closed door.

as infuriating as you both could be as a double act, it had warmed both your parents heart to watch such a special and sincere friendship blossom between you both over the years, which in turn lead to your families being incredibly close as well, your older siblings not too far off alessia's brothers in age.

which is why when you'd both so suddenly stopped seeing one another, stopped mentioning each other, switching the subject when the other was brought up, seemingly erasing yourselves from one anothers lives without a second thought it baffled your families to no end.

they'd of course asked why and inquired about what happened countless amounts of times and you'd both used and abused the excuse that you'd just drifted apart once you left school.

but the truth of the matter was yet another secret only to be shared between the two of you, this one leaving a bitter taste in both your mouths.

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

part three

#woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso imagine #alessia russo #woso #woso fanfics

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11cupid-tarot11 · 6 days

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Pile 1 -> 3 🩷

Short random messages regarding love for you! 💓

Pile 1- the chariot, the star and seven of coins

For starters the star card is making me think you might already have a crush on this person or might know of them, take what resonates for you.

For others, I'm getting this person might just really admire you. I'm hearing they like you so much they're willing to basically cross seas for you.

This person is strong willed meaning when it comes to you nothing else matters in the world, I think they have their eyes on a prize and are very determined when they want something which would appear to be you lol

I think this person is already planning y'all future in their head, like they've really got everything figured out even how they want to approach you 😭 (that's cute lol)

I feel like this person just really wants to say you're all in their space and they're accepting it. Like they can't wait for the day you two come together (and get married I'm hearing for some 😉😜) but they're definitely planning on making their move soon!

Other messages- 1111 might be significant, you're hot, lots of dates in nature, can't wait to kiss you, I miss you already.

Pile 2- I FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN THE NAME OF THE CARDS BUT I WILL NOT FORGET NEXT TIME MY POOKIES 🤞🏾😜🩷

Okay, for this pile I'm picking up on a dynamic that's like light and day, one person in this connection is a bit colder, closed off and I feel like someone in this connection just refuses to give up.

I'm hearing 'let your doors down' and this person might feel very hurt that the other isn't open to the same emotion intimacy the other is into.

I'm seeing it might be best to take a break, maybe the relationship has gotten to a point neither of you had meant it to or you're just really disappointed by the outcome and they're clearly not up to your standards and it's not good to settle for less.

I'm seeing maybe some of us are trying a little too hard to hang onto this connection but we can't change nor fix something that's not broken.

I am seeing for some of you that removing your energy might actually make this person miss you, and if they love you enough they'll come around and compromise so the both of you can feel fulfilled and happy in the relationship and if they don't clearly they weren't the ones for you and that's okay, because you never know when the universe is going to throw someone new your way! This could be a blessing in disguise 🥸.

Other messages- 444 could be significant, the color red, maybe a red car? I have no idea what song this is but it's got something to do with driving?idk ur person is singing it 🤣 Maybe that's significant for someone out there?

Pile 3-

So for this pile I actually heard 'its time!" I think this pile is being called to awaken to something or for some of you a special someone? 🥹

Okay this message was a little harder to read but I think both ends have been stressing out over this? And it's kind of ridiculous because you're both literally good people according to spirit that would have a very beautiful relationship and would grow like a freaking fruit tree! I think spirit is saying since neither of you will make a move they'll be forced to push both of you using the universe- like magic almost I'm hearing.

This pile was shorter, and I'm also randomly hearing someone in this connection could be short lol? I think someone here might smile a lot too, I'm seeing smiley faces!

Other messages- the song 'Magic by txt', 12, 111, the color yellow and maybe the month of May- June might be significant for some of y'all?

Have a fantastic day! 🌹 See you all again soon! Hope you enjoyed 😊

Dm for personal readings!

#18+ tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #pac tarot #pick a card #fs reading #fs tarot #love reading #spirituality #tarot messages #tarot love reading #pac love reading #Spotify

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yourstingrey · 20 days

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do you think you could write a luke x y/n friends to lovers based on too sweet by hozier? Maybe have it be a little angsty like someone tells him he’s not good enough and so he distances himself. I really love your writing and feel like you would write it beautifully.

Too Sweet Pt.1

Thank you so much for this request I loved this idea its so cutie im so sorry it took so long for me to make but hopefully Ive done it justice this one is a bit short but I kinda reallyyyyy wanted to put it into separate parts (which i swear wont take as long but it will be longer cus i gotta get that juicy angst in better!!!)

Hot.

That's all I felt as I was training, That's all I ever feel when I train with Luke. Not because he’s insanely hot himself but he has to put his all into everything even if I ask for practice with sparing. I'm crouched down a bit less like a fighter's stance as Luke has already got me winded but I try to hold up my tough gaze as he stands in front of me mirroring my stance except he's not tired at all it looks like he has even lifted a finger but this is our third go and unsurprisingly he's won every time so far. “Y/N/N are you sure you don't wanna give up? I'm not sure I can watch your face get all sad when you lose again.” He’s smirking as he talks and for a second he puts his hand on his chest to fain sadness about me. In that split second, I take the opportunity to try to tackle him to the ground.

He lets out a surprised Oof before he hits the ground I try to grab his hands to pin them down “I'm not so sure Luke I think you be pulling your sore loser face” Of course I didn't learn from Luke as my talking got me too distracted as Luke flips us over and now he's pinning me down into the dirt. He simply smirks and does a little tilt of his head pretty much signaling id lost. He stood before holding out his hand for me to get up which I gladly took from him. “Luke, I asked for practice. I thought you were going to go a little easy… I'm gonna have to sleep early or I'm gonna be so sore.” Discomfort on my face as I brush the dirt off my shorts and shirt “About that…” Luke says with a certain tone I've learned means ‘I'm gonna try really hard to convince you to do something you're really not gonna wanna do’ “Oh god what is it, Luke…?” A mischievous look spread across his face “Apollo kids are having a small lake party tonight and I was thinking I could take you” I let out a taut laugh before squinting my eyes playfully at him “Weren't you already out partying last night! Chris was telling me all about it!” I watched his face flush a bit as he stood there watching me talk before stammering his words “Wait- when did you see Chris today I wasn't with you??” I narrow my eyes at him a bit “This morning I went on a walk and I ran into him yknow you're not denying it soooo i'm right you did go out…?”

He gets up from leaning against a pillar to come put his arm around my shoulders and start walking out of the arena “Well yes.. But! I wasn't hanging out with my best friend so that's why I'm telling you that you gotta come out this time!”

“Luke you're always out so much lately don't you think YOU especially should rest, oh so great swordsman!” I clasp my hands to my chest whilst looking up through my lashes at him. He lets out something between a laugh and a scoff “You know that I do this all the time you're the one who always stays cooped inside her cabin almost all day usually!” Our steps absentmindedly got slower as we approached my cabin “I don't know Luke… I promised I was going to hang out with my siblings tomorrow and if I party with you I might forget or sleep in'' He opened his mouth to rebuttal me but I quickly cut him off “And andddd! You know I don't like to drink. I'm too nervous about being caught!”

We finally got to my cabin but I stood outside because I knew Luke wouldn't be satisfied unless I let him try to convince me one last time. “For one, You see your siblings every day you live with them. Plus I know some of your siblings are coming tonight anyway!” I go to open my mouth ready to shut him down already but before I had the chance Luke swiftly made sure to playfully cover my mouth with his hand before tsking at me and putting his finger to his lips shushing me “Ahem as I was saying YN, I'll be with you the whole time you can rely on me the whole time, just go this once for me and if you hate it I'll never force you to come again!”

He lowered his hand from his mouth to reveal my lips in an exaggerated frown. He let out a loud laugh before huffing out what sounded like ‘Oh c'mon now’ but it fell on deaf ears as his fingers went to my sides to get me to let out a laugh (well more than just one) I laughed so hard at his relentless tickles hunching myself onto him before we heard the laughs of my sibling behind and Luke turned back into a stoic statue practically I let my laughter die awkwardly as he separated from me. Rocking back and forth on my heels I look back at him “Well okay I guess I'll think about it… but this isn't a yes okay!!” He let out a small chuckle before slowly starting to walk backwards “I’ll see you later tonight” he flipped around completely to start walking away I let out a small laugh turning away to walk to my cabin door before something dawned on me, I flip around and yell back out to him “Wait Luke how will I know where to go!!” He turns back to me putting his hands behind his head with a sort of arrogant smirk on his face

“Don't worry about it, I am a messenger aren't I?”

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan angst #pjo x reader

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be-my-ally · 1 year

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Big Bunny

Playboy Bunny Reader x Elvis on the Playboy jet request

it might be 3:30am here, i may have work today at 9 and i may have to proof read over this again tomorrow but still, here, have a bunny themed fic - very apt for a slightly (at least for where i am) belated good friday gift (for those who celebrate and a spring themed passover/ramadan/weekend gift for everyone else) !!

I genuinely did not expect to end up doing nearly as much research for this as I did - and therefore there ended up being significantly more back story than I anticipated for what I had planned to be a short smutty one shot lol so… here’s a p ridiculous 9.8k fill xx

pairing: jet bunny reader x 1973-4 elvis (yes we are going that specific this time) - early big daddy era.

summary: freshly hired shy new playboy bunny reader and elvis get up to some fun away from the other passengers on Hugh Hefner's private plane, the aptly named 'Big Bunny'.

warnings: 18+, 18+, penetrative sex (p in v), oral (v receiving), lil bit of fingering, gratuitous use of the term 'bunny' and all accompanying euphemisms, elvis (as always in my writing) refers to himself as daddy.

wc: 9.8k

You nervously adjust your scarf around your neck; it’s windy, and you’re worried about your hair—that its carefully styled easy look might be ruined by the breeze. You roll from one foot to the other in anticipation; you can already feel the leather of the new, tall boot starting to rub behind your knee, and you’re hopeful for the chance to switch it out for your regular heels on board. The other girls are quiet, and that’s how you can tell that they too are nervous or excited—anticipatory perhaps. Usually, they would be chattering away right now—at least, that’s your experience from the last few flights you’d worked. But for some reason, the knowledge of this special guest had made them all fall silent, worrying their scarves or hair, and checking one another’s lipsticks, even more so than when Hugh was on board. Perhaps it was, like the Bunny bible said, because there was the knowledge that you were all representatives of the brand, and that was even more true for someone who wasn’t the owner of the brand, or perhaps it was simply because it wasn’t just any boring old investor but Elvis Presley flying on board today.

You’re all too young to remember much of him in his early prime or his dizzying launch to success, but you know that every girl in this line-up had watched the ’68 special, probably at a similar formative age to you, and had an experience; it had been impossible not to. You had been on the cusp of being 16 and were utterly gobsmacked and captivated by the television set as you watched him gyrate in a full black leather suit. Your mind had gone blank, and you couldn’t have told anyone what your father had said about it—you honestly couldn’t hear him because you were so shocked and excited by what you were seeing. Suddenly, you understood. You’d all discussed the marvel of the possibilities of the use of the satellites for the Aloha show only a few months ago, and you knew you weren’t the only bunny in the group who still found him almost alarmingly attractive. The concept, therefore, of being loaned out to him with the plane made you more than a little nervous. Another fragment of your anxiety for this flight also revolved around your new uniform—you weren’t comfortable in it yet; a teeny leatherette dress that somehow seemed far more revealing than your corset had ever seemed. Perhaps because it felt less like a costume in some way, perhaps because it simply was so unlike anything you would wear in day-to-day life—the over-the-knee boots were uncomfortable still too.

It’s unclear how you’d become so attached to the little corset costume when you were still so new to the plane and to this life as a whole. You’d been well-trained and ready to use your newfound, extensive bar knowledge while working as a table bunny in the club in LA. Although you had hoped that you might be spotted and bumped up to a more senior position in a little while—that one day you might be able to work your way up to the mansion or maybe even be handpicked to be a playmate—it all seemed so glamorous, and the attention was so exciting. You’d never dreamed you would, after only working a month, be handpicked as a jet bunny. It had been one of the most exciting moments of your life. Since then, you’ve not been flying for very long, although the training had been intense and your first flight had only been two weeks ago. And it had been a pretty slow start, with just Hugh and a couple of colleagues on board. They had their favourites, and while you had been chatted to and flirted with—treated well—you had also been mostly ignored.

Elvis, as far as you could tell, didn’t have favourites; he hadn’t requested anyone in particular from the thirty or so girls on regular rotation for the jet, and it made you relieved to think that you were on a mostly even keel with the other girls. You’d gossiped about it as you packed your bags onto the plane before you’d all ended up where you were now: standing in a row waiting for him to pull up, having been given word that he was mere minutes away. When you looked down at the other girls, you couldn’t help but wonder why, as one man with a small entourage for the flight, he really needed the bunny equivalent of five stewardesses. But, you think to yourself, at least he did because, as the most junior of the bunch, you definitely would have been the first to be bumped from the flight.

It’s only another few minutes until his long, sleek, white Cadillac pulls up in front, another car close behind, and his long legs are immediately sliding out of the car, almost before its even come to a complete stop. He seems eager to be away. He’s arguing with someone and barely acknowledges any of you as he starts to storm up the stairs towards the jet entrance—clearly familiar with the plane already. It becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t arguing with someone physically with him but was instead recounting what had been discussed on the phone in the car—you could hear him swearing as he went inside,

"I fuckin’ asked her to come out here with me, and now she’s being all cold, just then she was sayin’ she don’t wanna see me -" You can’t hear anything more, and you look down the row before Darla in front shrugs her shoulders and starts greeting the other couple of men still coming out of the car, and in the car behind, there were around a dozen guys in total, no women other than you five, which wasn’t unusual on the jet but wasn't entirely expected either.

A moment later, Elvis is hurrying back down the stairs, panting slightly as he comes. He arrives back in front of you, the last in line, with a series of apologies.

"Lord, where are my manners? I’m so sorry, girls. Hello, nice to meet ya; well, aren’t you all pretty little things?" You blush, and he catches your eye, winking at you as he presses a kiss to your cheek. He smiles at the rest of them, and Darla launches into her ‘Welcome to Big Bunny’ spiel as she directs him back up the way he just came. Your mind is racing as you follow them all up the stairs, and you’re more than a little distracted as you close the door and conduct the safety checks. Does that mean something? That he singled you out?

You weren’t meant to be his main assistant; of course, the main focus for today was keeping him happy, but you’d been specifically told that your purpose was to make sure the other passengers felt that they were getting similar attention. You didn’t have the experience, as Darla had told you, to understand how to deal with men like him. Those that think they’re special or that just because you’re wearing a bunny outfit they have some sort of claim on you, that you’re all the same and your centrefold is owed to them. And also, she’d flippantly added, you were still very inexperienced, and first and foremost she had to consider the brand. Now as you watch her take his arm up the stairs, you think you might be understanding her motivations a little more; her hips swaying more than they usually would. But you can’t say you blame her or that her other observations were wrong. You were inexperienced, both in flying and with men. But, as you’re locking the door shut and heading around to fetch towels and drinks before the pilots engage the engine, you can feel his eyes on you, and you think, I know what that means.

It’s a pretty long flight for a domestic flight—four or five hours, depending on the route the pilot takes—so you have plenty of time to get to know the passengers and ensure they’re all well taken care of. You’ve heard rumours from some of the other girls that this kind of flight can often go one of two ways: either the men are rowdy, raucous, and handsy, or they’re quiet, appreciative, but distant. You had assumed Elvis and his entourage would be the former, but from the way he quickly gets himself situated and settled in the forward compartment, you’re inclined to believe it will be the latter. You can’t help but notice he’s sequestered himself in the back; a couple of the men are with him, but the rest are a series of seats away. It seems like even the inner circle has an inner circle.

Before serving the drinks, you have a chance to look over at him. Trying to be inconspicuous, you’re surprised at how large he is. You’ve never realised how tall he really is, but he’d remained a few inches taller than you even in your heels, and while the plane is more spacious and furnished less compactly than the average, it still serves to make him seem bigger in contrast to the environment. He seems to take up more space than his body needs too, like his presence needs allowance; he looks incapable of staying on one seat, and the way he spreads his legs, his knees falling open, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he might be taking up more than his fair share of space.

You don’t realise how long you’ve been standing there, peering behind a partition wall, pretty much directly at his spread thighs. Until you move your eyes up, tracking up his body past his famously large belt to his open collared shirt, through which you can see tiny wisps of chest hair peeking through. You assess how his shirt is lying on him, clinging but well-tailored, and his trousers too, tight around his thighs and well-fitted on his waist but equally well-tailored, looking comfortable and well-fitted. Your eyes continue to roam over him until they come to rest on his face, and you realise he’s been watching you look at him. He’s smirking at you, clearly used to the attention but perhaps still flattered that he inspires it, and winks through his lavender-coloured glasses. You immediately duck back, taking a moment to gather yourself from the embarrassment of being caught out, before heading back out with the first tray of drinks.

It wasn’t your place to be, but you couldn’t help but be pleased when he showed himself not to be the type to start demanding wildly complicated cocktails—in fact, rolling his eyes when one of the men, Red, perhaps his name was, asked for a mai tai—and at his clear desire to remain sober, simply requesting a Pepsi. You take a breath, plastering your customer service smile on, determined to ignore any embarrassment, and swing around with the tray. Praying you don’t trip or spill anything in front of him.

Thankfully, you make it around without consequence, your thorough club training coming into play and keeping you steady even when there’s a mild bump as the plane engines start to roar. He grins up at you when you hand him the drink, and you can’t help but return it, beaming at him, forgetting your practised coquettish expression. You have to head back, sit down for a moment while the pilots announce your takeoff, and try not to grimace, knowing that your face can be seen from the compartment, at the feeling of taking off. You’re fine in the air, but that whooshing feeling of the plane jetting forward and up, the moment where you can feel the balance of the wings against the air as the engine battles its way up, still sends a wave of anxiety over you. Maggie brushes her hand over yours where it lies on the little armrest between the steward seats, and you thankfully grasp it, taking deep breaths. Once the pilot has announced you are officially flying and will be for approximately four more hours, you’re pleased you can finally stand up again and relax somewhat.

You’re not really needed for much for a little while, so you bounce about, chatting and keeping them company, talking with some of the other girls as you help to serve more drinks and food, and setting up the games tables when asked. Elvis has demanded the theatre be set up, so you arrange that, praying that when you return to the room he’ll have picked one of the latest cinematic releases and not, as you feared, one of the many adult releases available. You’re not sure you could keep a straight face if you had to watch him watch Deep Throat; it would just be too much to bear.

So you’ve avoided the lounge by staying in the forward compartment and helping the men there. Before you were sent on a mission to see if there was any peanut butter on board, a special request had apparently been made, but whether it had been complied with was yet to be seen. When Michelle, one of the more senior girls, suddenly appeared beside you, grabbing your arm and speaking in a hurried, hushed tone, she told you that you really ought to change. You panic for a second that something was wrong with your dress, but she’s quick to assure you that it was nothing like that. But Elvis had taken her aside and mentioned that although he "love[s] your yittle skirts, like yer spies or somethin’," he was "missin’ them little bunny outfits" and had left that with her. He hadn’t specifically requested anyone should change, but she’d successfully read between the lines of the very obvious hint and was, therefore, suggesting that you, Daisy, and Maggie change into your bunny corsets. You’d all planned for this possibility, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but you were still slightly surprised. You’d not been given the impression that Elvis had been that bothered by the theme of the plane, of you, but rather was utilising the plane for the luxury and convenience of the travelling experience. But if he was requesting your bunny outfits, clearly he was more into it than you thought.

It’s not long after that you do as requested and emerge from the powder room in your little patented corset teddy, the black silk highlighting your complexion and the little collar and bow emphasising your neckline. You were slightly annoyed that despite your careful packing, your little cottontail puff had been flattened, and so you’d had to spend way too long fluffing it to bring it back to life. This also meant that you were the last to emerge, and there was no way you could deny noticing that Elvis himself was sitting back in the forward compartment, turned so that he was practically facing the powder room door, watching you exit with a satisfied smirk on his face. You try to ignore him, listening to the conversations happening around you and trying to anticipate everyone’s needs. In your absence, more substantial snacks have been served, and you can see the remnants of some sort of peanut butter sandwich situation dotted around the room, so clearly that had been found too. There’s now a discussion happening about whether you should turn on the lights in the disco room or wait a little while to eat first. Eventually, it’s decided a proper meal is imperative at some point in the flight, but that right now? They wanted music.

So you all move down the plane. You end up walking directly behind Elvis, and when the plane bumps up and down briefly in the tiniest spot of turbulence, you trip into his back. You right yourself with help from one of his arms, apologising, but you’re flustered. It’s only worse when he turns to you.

"No need to be sorry, doll; you can fall into my arms whenever you like." It was one thing to imagine how he felt, but to be able to remember the feel of him, even from behind, even from just a brief moment of contact, was a heady feeling. Especially when he felt just as you’d imagined he would—soft but firm and broad. So broad. Walking behind him like this also made you nervous for another reason: it made you feel as if your movement down towards the intimate bedroom quarters at the end might be signalling something. The cosiness of the rooms between -- the disco and the lounge, perhaps reflective of the internal struggle you’re facing; the disco the butterflies in your belly.

You know you won’t be able to prevent meeting his eye again. The thought worries you; you’ve been around attractive men before, of course, but never one that, just by looking at him once, has made you feel like you would risk giving up everything for a few hours of fun. Lose everything you have simply for the pleasure of touching him. Maybe this was what Darla was concerned about; you can see her glance over to you every now and again, checking in, and you can tell she’s a little bothered by something.

Once you’re in the disco, the girls and you are well-practised at setting it all up, making sure there are enough tracks ready to be played and that there was easy access to free-flowing drinks and bar snacks. You’re also all very used to essentially having to start the dancing yourselves, having to encourage the others to join in despite their enthusiasm in suggesting the disco. You hang back slightly, holding a tray, when Elvis lightly grasps your elbow. You jump, having not seen him come to your side, and look questioningly at him.

"Dance for me, baby?" You’re not a stripper or a go-go dancer or anything like that, but it’s not a request that’s unheard of in the clubs. And you enjoy it; you wouldn’t be in the job if you didn’t get a slight thrill from being looked at, watched, wanted. So it’s easy to agree, especially when you’ve always found it hard to ignore a man when he adds a pet name, and besides, you want to. So you do. Elvis sits himself down, and a few of the men join in, and you and Maggie and Daisy all dance around them. You prance and shimmy, and soon most of the passengers onboard are dancing around to the music that plays from the surround system.

The group cheered and laughed when Burning Love was played on the 8-track, and Elvis sang along, laughing and joking when he missed one of the high notes ("God almighty, that’s high"). You notice that after a while Elvis has disappeared back into the living area and looks like he might be close to nodding off; sat there with his head back. You suppose he must be tired—you don’t know what he was doing prior to the flight this afternoon, but you do know he was coming off of the back of a week straight of shows and heading towards another one. You again know it’s not your place, and yet you still can’t help feeling like you ought to check on him.

You head over, leaning over, and crouching in the way you’re told to, almost in a bunny dip. He blinks up at you when you touch his shoulder.

"Lord, you’re a vision." You’re taken aback and can’t do much more than crouch there, stuck in place. "Talk with me, honey?" He pats your arm, and you nod, standing upright again and looking for a place to perch. There’s nowhere for you to sit down, or perch, few seats as there were in this living area, attached to the disco, and with the other men and girls also collapsing around you, you awkwardly look around for a moment before Elvis’ hand comes out and wraps around your thigh, pulling you down onto his lap.

"Oh!" You gasp, "Oh, I—I, uh, don’t think you’re meant to touch me, sir."

"Bunny, for the next three hours, I own you." He chuckles but removes his hands from your legs, although he makes no attempt to shift you from his lap, instead sitting further back, causing you to fall more securely onto his lap. You avoid what is sure to be judging looks from the other girls as they hand him drinks and chat with the other boys on board. You’re wrong about them watching you and judging you; of course, all the other girls are distracted, and even when they do glance over, it’s mostly to check that you, as the new girl, are still doing okay. Despite any jealousy they may be feeling about the attention he’s giving you, they still know how shocking and abrupt all of this can suddenly feel when you’re being confronted with men like him.

He’s surprised when you look shy, and you know the rumours abound—about how you’re all able to make extra cash—the private parties for the number one keyholders. But it’s not something you’re forced into just by virtue of being a bunny, and it’s not something you’ve been interested in finding out more about. Still, being perched on his firm lap, the seams of his suit rubbing against your silk tights, you can’t help but wish that you had asked more about it; found out if there were expectations. You wouldn’t want to let him down. You awkwardly sit there a moment before opening your mouth,

“So, uh, what did you wanna talk about?” He smiles,

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself honey.” So you do, giving him the basic information of your life, while he hmms and uh-huhs in all the right moments to show he’s listening to you. You’re starting to run out of steam and you’re about to ask him to tell you something when you’re distracted by him reaching to the side of you, jostling you a little.

He lights a cigar, and you can feel the heat of the tip. You shift the tiniest bit; you don’t know why it’s getting you so hot. You’re suddenly grateful for the subtle but multiple layers you’re wearing. Thankful for the fact that you’ve never listened to the few girls who swear it makes more sense not to bother with panties; you’d never been convinced that it wasn’t asking for trouble—something was sure to slip or become exposed. But you also always wore a double layer of pantyhose. He grunts the tiniest bit as you bump back into his stomach, and when you pause for a moment, you can feel a dampness growing between your legs. Through all the layers, he can’t feel it, thank God, but he does murmur to you: "Lord, are you a hot little Bunny." He strokes the small of your back, and you somehow know he doesn’t just mean it in the attractive sense, but that he can feel your heat.

You wriggle back against him, thinking, - don’t waste your chance, girl; don’t do it; you may as well go for it. All of your sense of propriety is lost, and you’re suddenly completely ignorant of the happenings around you. You can feel where the rubber around the edge of the leg bands of the teddy is starting to roll, being unable to stay put on the slippery tights and causing it to fall further away from your thighs riding up. You know he can feel it too, as close as you are. And while you’re still theoretically clothed, you can feel his trouser leg better on your thigh after it rolled up; he said you were hot, but he’s burning, it feels like. You push back onto him, feeling his tummy nudge against you, and under your tail, what felt like a growing erection. You don’t know what’s come over you, where this sexual confidence, this determination, this lack of self-consciousness, has come from. You wonder if it could just be the adrenaline of being so close, but you still go with it, and you nudge your ass back to him, grinding a little.

"Don’t baby," he pushes you forward a little, with his one free hand, blowing smoke past the side of your face, and you giggle, putting on a faux deep voice.

"Don’t procrastinate; don’t articulate…" You can’t even get the words out of your mouth you’re giggling so hard, wiggling in his lap, and it sets him off too, shaking his head and murmuring against your ear.

"Lord save me, girlie, you’re trouble, ain’t ya?" He holds you still. You try, but you’re practically incoherent because you’re laughing so hard.

"If you're lookin' for..." But your laughter cuts off when he hooks a finger in the corset and strokes it down your inner thigh—somewhere that you would have slapped anyone else and whispers,

"You came to the right place." You gasp, head going back, and his own tucking into your shoulder - he holds out the cigar, and, despite having barely lit it, rests it in the tray to the side of you so that he can use both hands to grip your waist. It’s ridiculously cheesy, and you don’t want to think about how many times and with how many girls he might have used similar lines, or how easy it must be for him.

"You want me, Bunny?" You still don’t know if you should be playing hard to get or if you should just give in to the inevitability of it all. "Can feel your little tail pressin’ into me - little puffy thing. Twitching ‘gainst me;" You wrinkle your nose cutely at his words, and he smiles into your neck: "Even a little twitchin’ bunny nose!" he presses a finger to it, and the strokes down to your lips. He rests it there for a second, "Do you wanna do this, bun?" You decide you may as well give in and nod—there's no point trying to play it cool when you’re sitting on his lap. You open your mouth, trying to catch his finger in your teeth as he fools around with you. He pulls you around, so one of your bent knees is now pressed against him and your other is resting on the seat, facing him. You shiver, loving how his sturdy hands manhandle you. You lean forward, as if to kiss him, when he stills you,

"Baby, we’re surrounded." You glance up, confused expression on your face, and a question in your eyes: Why would it matter? They all know the score. He shakes his head. "It’s your job isn’t it? You can’t - we shouldn’t?" You shrug your shoulders, he’s technically right and mere minutes ago you’d been worried about it yourself, but... It’s also not completely true to say that you would be discouraged from doing this with him.

"Say doll, how’d’ya - how’d’ya feel about joinin’ me?" Your heart flips, you glance around, but it appears the other girls are either preoccupied or purposefully avoiding looking at you. Plausible deniability. You’re frozen, and he stands up, pushing off of his lap, and leaves without looking back at you, only stopping at the door to the bedroom to call back,

"You coming or what?" So sure that you’ll follow him in. You glance around, and only Darla catches your eye. You’re wide-eyed and panicked at being caught, but she looks at you for a moment before nodding slightly and winking as she turns away. Somehow, it untangles the ball of anxiety that you didn’t realise was holding you so tense. Seconds later, you stand up, clearing the empty glasses from the tables around you, when Michelle swoops in, taking them out of your hands and nudging you with her hip towards the bedroom. Right then. You follow where Elvis had gone only a minute or so ago, and you cross past the little faux wood door into the bedroom. You look around but find that he’s already in the bathroom—perhaps so certain that you would follow that he didn’t even need to check that you had come in.

You sit anxiously on the big, round, fur-covered bed as you wait for him to reappear. You cross your legs before immediately uncrossing them and standing up—wondering if it was too presumptuous to be sitting there waiting for him. A moment later, leaning against the wall, you change your mind, deciding to sit on the edge again. It really did make the most sense. And while you didn’t want to make it seem like you were assuming something, you doubted he’d invited you back here to play checkers. He comes out and watches you for a brief second before coming over to stand in front of you, mere inches apart, so you’re forced to crane your neck up to look at him.

You’re a little skittish, and he can tell by the way you tremble when his hand comes up to touch your shoulder; he leans forward as if to kiss you, and you pull back. He pauses.

"What’s the matter, little Bunny? Why are’ya so twitchy now?" He doesn’t want to force himself, but he also can tell you want him, even before you willingly followed him here. He also knows that you must know the score—you can’t be that innocent in your role—and you must understand what he’s asking of you.

"I’m, I’m just -- it’s just a little surreal, you’re Elvis Presley. I don’t know how to, I've never been with anyone famous." He smiles, thankful that he hadn’t misread the situation — god forbid what the newspapers would have said about that if it had leaked: Elvis forces himself onto Playboy Bunny, BANNED from Hefner’s jet. It doesn’t bear thinking about. So he does the one thing he knows he can do well — can do so well that most women forget their worries and tilts your chin up to kiss you. He brackets your body with his thighs and cups your face in both hands. He’s masterful at it, knowing all the right moves, just the right amount of tongue forced into you, mapping your mouth. His lips are so soft, and his little nibbling bites on your lower lip hurt just the right amount for you to be totally consumed by his actions. He nudges you to move further up when you break apart, and you shimmy up a little, your legs coming up so that only your ankles are not on the bed. He presses one knee between your legs, balancing so he can move forward enough to kiss your cheek, his own high cheekbones rubbing against your face, and whisper,

"I’m just a man, hon, just like any other — don’t, don’t worry ‘bout it." He leans over and you’re forced onto your back, his hand catching you and lowering you down gently onto the fur coverlet. You lean up to kiss the exposed part of his neck, your nose nudging against his high collar.

"I, uh, god, I haven’t been around that many men in general — not like this, so that doesn’t actually make me feel a whole lot better. " You respond quietly. He pauses where his hand had been starting to fiddle with the zipper on the back of your corset. Pulling himself up to look you in the eyes.

"You, have - you have been with a man though? Right Doll?" You nod, frantically, you might be nervous but god don’t let him stop now.

"Yes - yes, just, just only the one." He moans on top of you, clearly liking the answer. You feel the zipper come down, and your chest is finally allowed to expand properly again, free from the restrictive boning. You suddenly panic, holding the garment close to your chest as you force him back a little. He rolls sideways, onto his elbow, to watch you;

"What’sthe matter baby?" He looks concerned as you force yourself up into a sitting position,

"Uh, could you - could you just close your eyes or something while I take this off?" He frowns,

"Well, sure, but… I don’t think you need to worry ‘bout modesty right now." You smile nervously back, trying for a blasé air —

"No, no, I know it’s just — it would just make me feel better." He looks at you, clutching the corset teddy to your chest. He nods, starting to close his eyes and you let out a sigh of relief, immediately standing up and wriggling out of it. You’re bent over, folding the fabric over itself when he starts to talk,

"I ain’t got a problem making you comfortable, babe, but if it’s about them little cottontails stuffed down your top I already know." You pause. Whirling around to see him peeking through his lashes at you. You forget to be shy, stood there topless, braless in nothing but your pantyhose and heels and you put your hands on your hips.

"How on earth —“ He laughs at you, opening his eyes properly,

"I’m not new to this game sweetheart." You can tell he’s teasing, but now he’s made you slightly worried that it's always been obvious thatyou weren’t quite as endowed as you were claiming,

"How’d you tell though?"

"You’re not the first girl meeting me with something stuffed down their shirt, darling, you just, sometimes you can just tell— I don’t know what you’d be stressin’ over though," He takes a moment to very obviously look you over, "they’re some pretty little tits." You’re pleased, but annoyed that he’s still decided to use the term little.

"Well - isn’t that why! Little!" He laughs at your indignation, reaching a hand out to pull you back to him, but he can barely speak through his giggles.

"No, no, no I didn’t mean it like that." You frown, but his amusement is infectious and you find yourself also giggling - "See, see, there’s a good girl - no reason to be sore about it, much more than what you’ve got’sa waste anyway mama, you’ll see."

He puts you back where he wanted you to start with - on your back, as leans over you. The feeling of him still being fully clothed against your chest, your near nakedness, makes you tremble - the soft silk of his shirt rubbing against your nipples. You can smell him, the slight musk of the day masked by cologne - perhaps reapplied in the bathroom a moment ago. His hair is looser than you expected it to be and it’s already starting to flop forward, it unnerves you slightly because it allows you to somehow forget who it is lying over you - the loss of that trademark making you forget that he’s practically a patented figure at this point. Until you catch sight of his blue eyes or his little curled lip and you’re reminded all over again. He strokes up from your waist to your neck and then back down, gentle fingertips dancing over your skin. He leans down to kiss you and your arm winds around his neck, pulling him closer. You’ve never felt a hunger like this. Desire like this before. You’re suddenly desperate to be closer, forgetting to play it cool you’re tugging at his shirt,

"C’mon get this off!" He laughs at you again, but stands up, ignoring your request. You lie there on your back looking up at him as he assesses you. You can’t help but puff your chest out a little and curve your back. Then he bends to grasp your left ankle, slipping your heel off. You yelp at the unexpectedly quick motion but the relief is almost immediate. He grabs your other ankle to take the other heel off, flinging it against the wall of the plane. Then his hands are immediately going to your black tights, he tries to pull them from the ankle but quickly realises that’s getting him nowhere, unable to get a proper purchase on the slippy material. So he works his way up to the waistband, grasping it and tugging it down. His finger catches by your knee, the rough bitten edge of his nail snagging and you hear the tell-tale ripping sound of them laddering, He laughs as you groan,

"Oh, no! Those were my last good pair; they cost me nearly seven dollars!" It only makes him laugh harder as he tears them off of you.

"Tell you what, honey, I’ll make sure you have ten new pairs by the time we land." He throws them somewhere near the rest of your clothes and turns his attention back to your stomach, only to be surprised when he’s met with another pair of pantyhose — this time in a sheer nude.

"Lordy! How many layers’is there?" You laugh at him, as he begins the process of rolling them down too — lifting your hips to allow them to come down easier than last time; it’s not that you don’t believe he would replace them, but just in case you’d prefer not to rip these too.

"Not meant to be being touched am I, Mr Presley?" It’s like, as he exposes more of your skin, he can’t help himself from pausing — the tights stay rolled around your knees to allow him to kiss your thighs, or the patch of skin between your belly button and your panties. You lift your leg, allowing him to roll down the last of the hosiery. He rubs over the arch of your foot and you moan at the relief — you may be getting used to the heels now but it didn’t mean that your feet didn’t still ache as soon as they came off. He gives the same attention to the other foot, rubbing firmly, before physically pushing you up the bed.

"Oh darling, call me Elvis." He strokes up your calves, before he stops again at your feet, "God, has anyone ever told you you’ve got real pretty sooties, Lordy these little toes are gorgeous." You wiggle them at him, you’ve never given much thought to your feet other than deciding what colour to paint your nails. He pulls your foot towards him, lifting your leg up. He kisses along the ball of it, before taking your big toe into his mouth.

You had never, ever, been turned on by the thought of someone playing, or sucking your feet, but suddenly it’s like electricity zapping up your legs to your tummy and core — you can feel yourself growing damp just from his gentle tongue lapping around your toes and you can’t help little moans falling from your mouth. You’re normally ticklish but this time the sensation forms little jolts through your tummy, making it flip slightly, and butterflies form. He lets go with a little pop, his lips forming the perfect round little ‘O’ of suction and the warm wet heat is suddenly released, causing the air to feel colder and your feet more sensitive than ever before. When you look at him standing there, holding your ankle, caressing your calve you have a sudden flash of what it must be like to be a man — and suddenly you think you can understand why men love being sucked so much. The sight of him, his lips red, your toes wet, is overwhelmingly erotic.

He keeps going - right up your foot, before he holds your leg up, kissing up it before he put his knees on the bed again, lowering your limb to allow him to kneel over you. He places little kisses up your thighs, and you can feel his chin rubbing against your stomach as he kisses his way up there, he uses one elbow to lean on, keeping himself somewhat horizontal, but his other hand is following his lips.

"Time to prove it to you, little bun-bun." He whispers against your sternum, before turning his head, licking a line across your breast and capturing your nipple in his mouth. His hand reaches to squeeze your other, pinching the nipple until it hardens into a little nub. He pulls off of where he’s been sucking and blows onto you. The cool air over your wet nipple sends a jolt straight to your pussy — it’s clearly an education for you tonight since you’d also never before known how sensitive your chest really was. He laps at the other side, giving it a similar treatment, palming the breast around it. While you gasp and wiggle underneath him you can feel his length straining in his trousers, and the slight feel of his lowly buttoned shirt, allowing you to feel a slither of the hairs on his chest and tummy is enough to send your arousal into overdrive. You start tugging at his top and trying to feel around his waist to undo one of the belts that had become synonymous with his image, far more insistently than before. Demanding he takes it off, even as the words fail to make it out of your mouth alongside the moans and gasps caused by his ministrations. He pulls back, planting one last kiss on the side of your chest and laughs at you when you beg.

"Please, gotta see you, wanna see all of you - please Elvis, dreamed about this, gotta see it." But still, he complies with your request, sitting himself up to strip off his shirt; unbuttoning the last few buttons and then standing to kick off his trousers, pulling off his belt. You stare at him. Incapable of doing anything else. He’s carrying more weight than before, especially around his middle, although he’s still clearly a man of generally slim build, padded tummy over muscle. But regardless of his weight, or maybe because of it, he’s still beautiful. You reach for him when he lies back down, stroking the hair on his head - the hair that ensures you recognise that this is no longer the slicked-back hair of his Hollywood days and that he’s no longer a boy in anyway but a man and you need only look at his chest to remind you of that. The few sparse hairs that used to be there have been joined by a collection covering his chest and stomach in a soft carpet.

His hands move back down the sides of your body and he whispers to you, "Lift up baby," as you would while trying to undress a child to pull your panties down and off of you — throwing them god-knows-where also. You wriggle, nervous and self-conscious as he stares at you. He’s flushed pink down his face and chest, and he looks you over, assessing. He nods, clearly satisfied and smiles when you breathe a sigh of relief. You bring a hand down, and he follows with his own, going to stroke you.

"God Bunny, you’re dripping." And it’s true, your inner thighs were already sticky with your own slick and you’re genuinely not sure you’ve ever felt this wet without having even touched yourself. He brushes over you lightly, circling your clit, before going to press a single finger into you. Your own hand rests on top of his, ostensibly as if you were guiding him, but really being dragged by him. You let out a moan as he pulls your hand down to join his, directing and tugging your finger to join his, pulling them both out and pushing them back in together as if your two hands made one. It feels wild, it’s so out there, your soft hand intertwined with his rougher fingers pressed against one another as they delve into your most intimate place.

You’re not unused to the sensation in general but his singular finger alone was similar to two of your own and so you can feel a slight burn at your entrance, a barely-there sting that cuts through the pleasure. Like a pinch of salt atop a cookie, it only enhances the flavour — the feel andyourhips circle around as his thumb finds its way up to rub at your clit.

"Gotta make sure you’re nice and loose for me huh baby, just like a new set’a wheels gotta grease you up." You moan at his words, the objectification for some reason really doing something for you. He uses his other fingers to stroke gently at you and the tickling sensation is almost enough to tip you over the edge. He seems to hold you there for a miraculously long time, and you realise you probably ought to be trying to return the favour so you reach down to tug at his hard cock. It’s a different feel than what you were used to, you’d never been around an uncut penis before, and you didn’t really know what to do with it other than pretend that it was exactly the same as the two others you’d touched. He winces slightly when you roll your palm over before his foreskin has retracted back causing you to roll the skin around, pinching him as you try. He bats your hand out of the way, pumping himself. You take note and recreate his actions as best you can, and you know you’ve hit the sweet spot when his own hips jerk and his hand tightens around your wrist. He pulls his fingers out from you, dragging your hand back with him and flings your arm away, before going back down with three fingers, he prods them at your entrance, testing the boundary before slowly sinking them in. You whine at him, panting,

"Please, god, Elvis, you gotta, I’m ready for you, I swear I’m ready for you," he pulls his fingers out, and pushes your hand away from his cock, rolling you firmly onto your back and kneeling himself up again.

"Ok, Ok, Bunny, ok, I hear ya, I can feel you’re ready for me, just, just didn’t wanna hurt you, just wanna make you feel good little Bunny." He pulls your hips towards him and lines himself up.

He thrusts into you, pulling you onto him and you whine as you feel his sticky head stretching you open. Despite your claims of being ready for him it has been a while. His stomach is resting on yours, his tummy pressing down on you. It’s almost like he’s smothering you, he’s entirely enveloping you. His hands are holding your waist, bracketing you to him. If it were anyone else you think you might find it claustrophobic, so close together that your breath is mingling, you can see his pores, feel his belly button. But for some reason it just makes you want even more of him, getting as close as humanely possible, desperate for however much you can get. His taste, his smell, his everything.

"Oh god," as he pushes in further, devastatingly slowly, "Tight as a fucking virgin aren’t ya… you sure you haven’t still got your cherry? Sure I’m not about to - ah - pop it ‘gain?" You moan, trying to relax your breathing from its quickened state as you adjust to him inside you. He moves one of his hands to touch you, feeling where you’re spread open and up to press your clit, and you buck up involuntarily at the contact, forcing a few more inches of him in. He groans at the unexpected tight pressure and heat. You clutch at his shoulders as he responds with his thumb speeding up on you. He drives into you, and you clench down as you start to feel his fingers doing their job, along with his cock jabbing against your internal walls. You don’t recognise the noises coming out of your mouth, they’re not the practised noises that you might expect from a woman of your occupation, but the very real moans and groans from a woman surprised at how this could feel.

He’s breathing heavily, and you can see the sweat starting to form, but he keeps the pace — clearly, his near-constant performances have maintained his stamina. A bead of it starts to form on his brow and you watch it drip, slowly, down his cheek towards the little patch of sideburns. You suddenly yearn to taste it, it’s sure to be salty, and maybe a little sweet, but his musky smell is already filling your nostrils and you can’t help but want to lick it. You try to distract yourself, don’t want to embarrass yourself like that, how unbecoming that would be. You try to look at a point beyond his shoulders, but you fail when you feel his hot, large, heavy, hand on you - cupping your cheek and drawing your eyes back to his face.

"Where ya going little Bunny?" He huffs, "Stay with me." He’s pleading with you and it immediately catches your attention. You nod, frantically, as his hips rock back and forth into you. He grips your waist and hips tight and leans closer, pausing in his rutting to press into you, deep, and catching your mouth with his. When he pulls off of you, he goes to kiss the side of your face, curving over himself to kiss your neck and you can see another drip of swear forming. It’s too much to take and you reach with your hands, both of them cupping his head, pulling him back up to your eye level from your shoulder. He looks up slightly confused at why you’ve stopped him but his eyes quickly roll closed as you lean forward,

"Wanna taste you, let me taste you daddy." He nods, and you hold his head in place, kissing the side of his mouth, before licking his cheek, little kitten licks before a broader stripe up to his temples, where the sweat is forming. You were right; it’s sweet and salty, manly. His hips stutter a little and you can feel him twitch inside you, your own walls fluttering and clenching a little in response to his feel and taste. He pulls back a few inches, about to thrust back into you but you put a hand on his chest. He frowns down at you, disappointed that you were blocking his movements.

"Let me, let me — can I, wanna ride you." His eyes roll back and his bitten, pouty, lips fall open in pleasure as he doesn’t say anything but starts to remove himself from you. When his cock pops out, bobbing between you he rubs it against your folds, cockhead bumping your clit. You grind against him, before moaning at the loss as he sits himself at the head of the bed, sliding down to be in a semi-reclining position.

"C’mon then doll, have at it." He gestures with both hands at his crotch. "Hippity hop little Bun." You grin, you don’t normally love the bunny jokes and comments — you’re not ashamed of your job and in fact, you’re normally quite proud of your career, but you do like to keep it separate from your private life; it’s still your work, and you’re more than just a playboy bunny. But coming from him? If Elvis wants to call you Bunny, he can call you a bunny — hell you’d hop about the room, eating a carrot, until he was satisfied if he asked.

You sink down onto him, your slick and his precum have lubricated your entrance enough by now to make it far easier than his first push into you, although your mouth still falls open at the feel of the stretch. You moan at the feel of the different angles, hitting different parts of your walls as you bottom out before rising back up, only to rock yourself back down again. You try to pay attention to his face, work out what feels the best for him but honestly you’re too distracted trying to get the angle right for yourself. He seems content, though, to let you do the work, offering you a near-constant stream of praise;

"Uh-huh that’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.” You circle your hips in response, grinding down and he’s moaning at you, telling you that you’re "treating’ me so nice, oh god, oh yes." You bounce on him until your thighs are shaking and you’re so close, but you just need a little more something. You’re about to say so, and you’re reaching down one of your hands that had been on his shoulders to touch yourself when he says,

"It alright bunny if Daddy takes over again now?" You feel yourself clench, his slightly condescending tone for some reason heightening your arousal even further, and you nod rapidly. He lifts you off of him, his forearms flexing, and manhandles you into turning around - pushing you down onto all fours. Your arms are a little shaky and you lean down onto your elbows to compensate.

"Arch your back baby, that’s it." You comply with his request, feeling a little like a whore and how strange it was to feel, as fucked open as you were, the air running past your pussy. He grips your hips and lines up again, one hand staying around your hipbone while the other strayed around to hold you close to him, palm splayed across your lower stomach as he pushes into you again.

He slides in, the stretch lessening each time — you can still feel him, of course, but it’s less of a burning sensation and more of a gentle pull now. He’s constantly talking — praising you, telling you you’re "so goddamn fucking pretty" that "you were born to take this," and that you were "such a good girl." You’re not used to the noises he pulls from you, and you probably should be more concerned about how thin the walls are - he reminds you a few times that you "gotta be quieter baby, gotta quiet down, be a quiet little Bunny for me", but when his balls are slapping against you, his tummy knocking into you, and his cock is stretching your hole you lose the ability to stay quiet.

A stream of swears and words of approval coming from your own mouth, "C’mon, please Daddy, please, that’s it, that’s it, give it to me Daddy."

He reaches around, stroking you and rolling his fingers over the little silky soft patch between his cock and your clit, feeling around where you’re joined. It’s filthy - and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and when he reaches down with a hand - rubbing his fingers over you just so you’re reminded that you’re not the second person he’s ever fucked. He seems to know all the right moves to get you where he wants you, your head turned against the bed, gasping. You’re knocked momentarily silent when he pulls out, rubbing his cock up and down your folds, jabbing it against your clit before he presses a hand agaisnt your back, forcing your ass up higher and presses back inside you. This time he’s aiming, going deeper than his shallower thrusts before, and he knows he’s aimed true when you wail as he hits the bumpy little spot inside you. He breathes a laugh like your reaction is amusing to him — perhaps because of the sheer shock in your tone and he continues at the same pace. Hitting that same spot and focusing his fingers once again on your clit.

He circles his middle finger and thumb around, moving closer and closer before eventually, finally, brushing directly over it. It’s enough to make you cry out, thrashing around a little, legs jerking, as you come — your hole clenching around him causing him to groan in time with you. Your body goes slack against him, as he continues to pummel into you, although he does slow down, letting you ride the waves of your orgasm back down. He shifts slightly, pulling you up, and holding you by his grip on your waist and pussy as he kisses the sweat on your collarbone. Before abruptly shoving you back down onto the bed. Your face rubs against the fur as your arms give way, and you grab fistfuls to hold onto as he grips your hips, so tight you’re bound to bruise, and starts to pound away at you. You’re oversensitive and his rapid pace is a little uncomfortable, but as he starts to swear, and you can feel him drawing near he reaches down with his left hand, and nudges your folds open again. He rubs your clit at a pace that would normally have made you shove the guy off of you, so little attention given elsewhere, but that matches his own hips perfectly and is apparently just the right amount of abrasion to send you careening to the edge again. You convulse on his cock at almost the exact same moment you can feel him rapidly pulling out, to shoot his own cum across your ass and back.

"Now you got your own little white tail Bunny." He doesn’t let you rest. As soon as he’s stopped spurting he’s pushing you over, rolling you onto your back and diving between your legs. He tongues your sloppy, open, hole and he licks his way up and down your folds, before tongue-fucking into you. His fingers coming up to replace his tongue, scissoring into you, so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on that little nub and sending your oversensitive self straight through to a third orgasm. You scream, unable to remain quiet any longer, clutching at his hair and holding him tight to you as you writhe against his mouth. He licks you out like a man possessed, like he’s been told it’s essential for the good of humanity, and you’ve never had someone do this to you before; you had no idea this was how this felt, but to have someone so dedicated to the task was a feeling almost as heady as the orgasm itself.

He flops back, resting his head back onto your inner thigh, and you pat gently at his head, still breathless and unable to speak as you blink away black spots in your vision. He’s breathing heavily and you can feel his sweaty forehead on your fingertips. You can’t believe it’s his soft, sweaty hair in your hands. God, you wished this plane would never land. He sits up, and looks down at you, patting at your pussy lightly, as you would a pet, affectionately. You look over at your clothes, wondering if you’ll even be able to contain your puffy folds in the tiny gusset of the corset teddy when he distracts you by leaning down and pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"If it’s alright with you, darling, I think I might request you on my crew every time I fly."

#elvis fic #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfiction

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aliceinborderlandscrolls · 1 year

Text

Scattered Cards

Chishiya Shuntarō x reader

I wanted to marry you…

Angst / Fluff

I stared up at the ceiling, small cracks breaking along it.

Five hours lying in this bed and I was still unable to get any rest. I felt restless from the adrenaline that the spade game Chishiya and I were forced to play earlier. Those people in those horse masks… They were just like us, like everyone put here.

Trying to survive just another day.

I placed my hand over where my heart was, feeling it pump faster than normal. It was as if those moments followed me like as shadow even after the event had already passed. It was those moments that played in my head of Chishiya almost… If he had been a second late in dodging those bullets… I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought. I couldn’t bare the thought of surging this world without him. He was the only thing keeping me going. In his cold distant snarky way, he was what kept me from ending it all in this demolished world.

I glanced over to the familiar mop of hair, dark natural locks beginning to appear from his roots. I thought it looked nice with blonde he bleached his hair with. I wondered why he chose to bleach his hair in the real world… More so what he looked liked before with his natural.

Light snores came past his lips as he slept peacefully beside me. I could almost laugh at how much of a child he looked, but he was also seemed so peaceful…

A frown settled on my lips. How could he sleep with such ease? Would anything in this world affect him? To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him distraught after any game, immediately falling a sleep with little to no effort.

He looked as if he hadn’t just come back from a life or death situation.

It was his nonchalance about his own life that worried me the most and I wondered what it would take for him to finally break through his carefree facade…

But, my word does he look beautiful…

I don’t think I have ever seen a man so handsome in my life and here he appeared, at a beach with his lucky white jacket. It was by chance that we met. The memory bringing a smile to my face. The spilt strawberry drink on his shorts was on my behalf.

“I’m so sorry!” I panicked, kneeling down to clean up the mess.

“You don’t need to apologize. He bumped into you.” He stated referring to one of the drunk players with a yellow beach shirt.

“Still… This is your first day here and I’ve already left you with an unpleasant memory.” I sighed when the stain wouldn’t come out.

“This entire world is an unpleasant memory.” He replied, “You however, are interesting.”

I looked up at him, brows furrowed, “I am?”

“You’re close to the hatter. Either you’re related or something more.” He stated, completely ignoring the way I was spreading the stain on his shorts instead of fixing it.

I shook my head at the misconception, “No, there’s nothing going on between us.” I made a face of disgust, “Hatter and Aguni took me in… We arrived to this world at the same time.” I stopped trying to fix what I had done looking up at him, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without them. I owe them my life.”

“Seems like everyone here owes someone their life.” He answered, “You however, owe me a new pair of shorts.”

“I’ll get you one tomorrow, I promise!” I stuttered.

It was the nonchalance in his voice as he spoke words that rang true and it was that moment I knew I would eventually fall for him.

I couldn’t take the looming silence snaring its way around me. Images past through my mind of all the games I have played since waking up here… All the bodies I have seen… The lives I couldn’t save… My life that I put first.

“Chishi?” I whispered the nickname I gave him ever since the first time I felt something more than friendship towards him.

I still remember the look he gave me, but he said nothing about it none the less.

His arms pulled tighter around his pillow, facing me. I wanted to chuckle at how he looked so much like a child with his face squished by the puffy thing.

“Chish…” I whispered again, a small smile appearing on my face.

He grunted in acknowledgment, refusing to open his eyes.

“In the real world, would you still want what we have?” I asked, referring to the two of us.

“Don’t be stupid.” Was all he replied, ready to go back to sleep.

I stared at the ceiling with a huff, “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” He replied.

I rolled over to face him, my face resting against my clasped hands as I took a breathe to say the question I’ve been thinking about.

“Chishi…” My voice trailed off with nerves, “Would you still want to date me?”

“No.” He answered after a short moment.

My heart deflated as a thousands needles stabbed at it. He seemed to be so brutally honest leaving no room for debate. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, his voice nonchalant. I think that made it worse. After all we’ve been through… He felt nothing for me? Couldn’t he want to at least try?

Has he just been bored and I was only good enough to appease his lack of entertainment?

The only thing I could form out of my mouth was a quiet, “Oh…” As I settled back into bed.

How am I supposed to sleep after that? Should I… Leave? Maybe Kuina would let me spend the night at her place.

Before I couldn’t get up he spoke again, this time a small smirk on his face. It was as if he knew the turmoil that was going on inside my head. A game he enjoyed to play.

“I would want to marry you.” He stated. His eyes still closed, but content nonetheless.

A smile made with pink cheeks followed by my giggle as I fell into his honeyed words. I quickly snuggled into his side. He already had his arm moved away to make room for me of course.

Chishiya seemed to always knowing what my reaction will be as if he could read me like a book… Magbe he could.

His arm was raised only slightly, but enough so that I could fit into his side like a missing piece to his difficult puzzle.

“You would marry me, hm?” I smiled into his chest.

The only sound that came from him was a muffled, “Mm.”

“My husband… A doctor. I like the sound of that. Especially of you saving lives and helping people.”

“Of course you would. You’re a sap.” He stated.

“Maybe I am, but only for you.” I mused as I traced circles into his shirt, “And I wouldn’t care for a fancy ring either. I would want it to be something as simple and true as our love.”

I couldn’t help the way my heart leaped in my chest or the fluttery feeling that appeared from the thoughts of marrying him. Those feelings pushed aside the fear and heartache that came with the borderlands. It pushed them far away, leaving me in a bliss by the name of love.

“Mrs. Chishiya. I like the sound of that.” I mumbled.

“Hush. I’m trying to sleep.” He muttered.

“Goodnight Mr. Chishiya.” I giggled.

He amused me by saying those few words that had me ailing like an idiot, “Goodnight Mrs. Chishiya.”

My hands clutched onto his shirt as he held onto my side, the two of us falling into a blissful sleep.

If you loved me that much Shuntarō, why would you betray me like this?

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, dry humping, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Before you depart, you leave an extra tip at the counter. The owner was more helpful than he needed to be. You feel indebted.

As you go out into the street, you give a long glance in each direction. You're paranoid even after the hours that passed since the unwelcome encounter. It's not just that one time, it's that this guy keeps popping up.

You walk the block warily, checking over your shoulder every few steps. Your building is quiet now that the maintenance is done, at least for the day. You go up to your apartment and drop your bag by the door.

What a long, strange day. Still, you got a lot of work done. You can just relax. You have another appointment tomorrow and that will be less than soothing.

You go to the bedroom and pull out a set of pajamas. You change a piece at a time, stretching as fatigue knots your muscles. You pull up the shorts as a shadow flickers by the window. You turn, finding nothing but the dimming sky and the rattling fire escape.

You don't think much of it. The wind often shakes the metal ladder and your apartment never quite gets the full shine of daylight. You grab your laptop and turn on the same show you've been marathoning for almost a week. You nestle into bed and yawn, even if it is a bit early to turn in.

You try to unwind and let go of the stress needling in your temples. You close your eyes, the heaviness less crushing, more hypnotizing. It drags you down even as the tension longers in your body.

You dream of the cafe and its moody owner, the other man like a shadow outside the window, the ambience overcast and sinister. At the edge of your subconscious is the glare of the laptop screen, the garbled audio skewing to a hum. A cool flow washes over you and sends a shiver up your spine.

You rouse slightly, enough to pull the top of the quilt to your chest. You hug the patchwork and grumble as you roll onto your side. You seal your eyelids and cling to the sleep that weighs on your lashes. The blackness slowly spreads and all at once splinters as your name gristles into your ear.

Your eyes snap open to darkness. Your laptop is closed and set on your night table. There's a weight over you that suggests more than a blanket. You feel something wiggle under your side and realise an arm is hooked around you, their hand tucked beneath you.

You go rigid and inhale, ready to scream your lungs out. The hand swiftly slides free and smothers your voice. You whimper and squirm against the intruder.

“You know, sweetheart, I just wanted to talk…” his nose brushes along the shell of your ear, his damp breath on your nape.

You whine and grab at his hand desperately. How did he find you? Jow did he get in here? This has to be a nightmare!

He hushes you and nuzzles your hair. He presses a kiss to the back of your head and growls. He wiggles even closer to you, rolling his hips against you.

“Now I don't feel like talking,” he snarls.

Your eyes gloss as his strength traps you. You don't understand. What did you do to deserve this? Why does he care so much?

“You know what I feel like?” He rasps, rocking against you as his breath shudders with his fervent motion, “I feel like holding you down and seeing if the rest of you still works.”

You squeak as you claw at his thick wrist. Your heart thunders and your ears burn. You've never felt this helpless.

He keeps his rhythm, his crotch chafing against you as his other arm snakes under you. His hand flutters up to squeeze your chest. He grunts between his quickening pants as the bed shakes with him.

“I can be a nice guy,” he huffs, “but you make a guy wanna be mean.”

Your tears break free, leaking down to stain your pillow. You writhe and throw your elbow back. He growls as you catch him in the same spot as before.

He leans his weight into you, turning you on your stomach as he crushes you against the mattress. He pins you with his body, thrusting against you as the fabric between your bodies grows warm. You murmur and bawl into his salty palm as you feel his bulge hard and throbbing against you.

“That's it, baby, that's it,” he coaxes as he rocks faster, “almost….”

He slips his hand behind your head and pushes your face into the pillow, suffocating you. He coughs and grunts and spasms. He shakes and his pace turns erratic and he slows, little by little, until he still and gulping for air.

He falls limp over you, his head next to yours as he pets your hair. He purrs and turns to kiss your temple. You turn your head away from him and sob.

What just happened?

#pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #pete brenner x reader #drabble #pain hustlers #series #i knew you were trouble when you walked in #au

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soulidarity · 2 months

Text

companion

based on the companion robot chat story | xavier x reader/mc

after mc gets the new robot companion, xavier grows a bit jealous of the perfect companion

A knock at the door was heard, before MC could open it her new companion robot she had nicknamed phel was already on it.

as soon as it opened the door, a confused xavier greeted it. he looked at the robot and the door number, double checking he hadn't knocked on a stranger's door. chuckling at the situation, MC quickly went to greet him.

"thank you phel, i got it"

phel nodded and walked away, leaving a frowning hunter at the door.

"i didn't know you were busy." xavier said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"oh no! thats just phel, the robot companion we had talked about. I got it a few days ago, guess i forgot to tell you. come in"

the two walked in to the living room, the taller one wearily looking at the robot doing something in the kitchen as he sat down.

"whyd you get one?"

"im always too tired to do household chores, thought itd be a good way to lift up some stress from my shoulders"

phel aproached the two with tea, pouring it onto two cups, adding sugar to one of them.

"just how you like it, MC"

"thank you phel!" she smiled at it as xavier added sweetner to his own drink. the robot bowed and left the pair alone.

"i dont like it."

"oh is the tea not to your liking? i think i have other types, i can ask phel to make another pot-"

"no. i dont like the robot."

"...why?"

"its off putting. you dont need it"

"hm... i think it looks pretty great. its customizable"

"so you designed it?"

"if by designing you mean i selected the short brown hair and blue eyes option then yeah. i think i did some other stuff to it but not much."

the comment had made xavier frown even more. MC sighed and put her cup down.

"okay this is clearly a bigger problem than phel just being off putting, do you wanna talk about it?"

"well... not in front of it" he mumbled. MC rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. "Phel, we'll be in my room. Please dont enter unless an emergency has happened" the robot nodded and continued wiping the kitchen counter.

she dragged the sulking hunter and sat him on her bed, looking down at him she spoke "so, whats wrong?"

"is it your ideal type?"

"HUH?!"

"i mean you designed him to be what you like, right? if you want me to dye my hair thats fine-"

"woah hold on. are you jealous of it?"

xavier fell silent, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. MC sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and placing her chin on his shoulder.

"y'know i love you right? i could never replace you. much less with a robot."

"it can be here all the time, it can cook, entertain, comfort and other cool features the ad talked about..."

"yknow what it cant give me? it cant give me warmth during an over night mission. i cant feel its heartbeat rising because i did something cheeky. i cant see its gaze softening as it wakes up and realizes its me. it cant be xavier, and thats all i need."

the two stayed in their position as a soft silence filled the room, xavier placing a hand over hers and squeezing it.

"...i can learn how to cook"

"i- xavier you dont need to-" she said as she laughed.

"and im good at cleaning, ill help so get rid it"

she chuckled a bit more before placing a quick kiss on his lips. "ill return it tomorrow. and for the sake of our building, you can just buy me takeout."

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

i always liked android and robot stories, i feel like theres a lot to explore even tho it has been getting repetitive in recent media. so when i got this chat i was inspired to do a fic based on it. first time writing xav kinda nervouse

#love & deepspace #love and deepspace #otome #xavier x reader #xavier #xavier x mc

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fallinforerling · 10 months

Text

have you met before? | chapter 3 - eh

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You told yourself for the entirety of your shift that you wouldn’t give in due to nervousness; that you wouldn’t feel pressured just because you had a date. But as the hours passed, you felt the urgency to get ready immediately. With a sigh, you said goodbye to who seemed to be the last customer of the day, realizing it was already five p.m. and you were still there.

Your mind raced and raced, thinking about what type of guy Erling could be. Was he the type to take his date to a fancy restaurant? Or was he more laid-back? How did you expect him to be?

You didn’t have an answer. You just wanted to go out with the same sweet guy you’d met a few days ago. And even though you still saw him as Erling, just Erling, you also knew he was a famous footballer. That made you nervous. Thinking about it made you dizzy, to be honest.

“Calm down. Breathe.” You told yourself, taking long, deep breaths before relaxing your shoulders. “He’s a normal person, just like you. No need to freak out.”

And it was true. There was no need to see him any differently just because he’s famous. He was the sweet guy who asked for a date, and he’ll stay that way.

For now, the only concern you were having was that you really needed to get ready, and, for now, the shop work could wait until tomorrow. You gave the clock a quick glance, feeling your heart jump when it marked 5:40 p.m.

Run. Run. Run. That was the only word that repeated itself in your head as you collected your things, making sure every single lock was in its place before hurrying to the door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

As you predicted, your indecisiveness came through, making it five times harder to choose the perfect fit for this date.

It’s dinner, but where? Do I wear a dress, pants, a blazer, flat shoes, or high heels? You saw the ridiculous amount of clothes gathering on every flat surface of your bedroom, frustrated when you tried to see anything working, but nothing did. Will he even pay attention to my clothes? You couldn’t know, and it would be such a dick move to throw the first thing you saw just because you were in a hurry.

Every dress you owned seemed like too much or too little; the other combinations didn’t sit right with you. It was so frustrating that you wanted to call literally anyone you knew for help. And then, just as you were reaching down to your nightstand to get your phone, a miracle happened. The delicate fabric of the dress was spattered on the closet floor, hidden from your sight unless you looked at it in the right position. /t was like destiny.

“I can’t believe I forgot about you!” You shouted, picking it up with care. It was perfect.

You hurried to try it on, praying for it to work. The need you felt for it to fit was immense, so when it passed your legs and sat around your hips as comfortably as you remembered, you started to thank every single deity available. Finally. You looked back at your reflection, feeling satisfied with the vision. The black dress, which was your go-to option whenever you had to wear something formal but casual, still fit you like a glove. Everything about it was perfect, from the delicate lace around the cleavage to the way it wasn’t too long or too short. The material was soft, comfortable, ideal.

The joy you felt lasted only five minutes. You shot your phone a glance, and suddenly you didn’t care anymore for the dress or the state of your room. It was almost seven. And you haven’t started the process of getting ready.

“I’m so fucked!” Your neighbors must be hating you by this point, with all the screaming and running around, but you couldn’t help it. You had less than an hour to look presentable.

Taking the dress off, you hurried to the bathroom, grabbing the essentials along the way. That shower was the shortest— and most effective— one you’ve ever had. You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline, but everything was going your way. The body lotion was absorbing well, you didn’t struggle to find your jewelry, or your favorite heels. Even when you were doing your makeup, you didn’t fucked it up, even though your coordination wasn’t the best. Everything was going your way. And just as you were finishing the eyeshadow, your phone buzzed.

✉️ Erling: hello beautiful. i’ll be there in five, can’t wait to see you 🤍

Your heart raced. The feeling of nervousness didn’t leave your body while you made sure you had everything in your bag or when you walked down the hall and into the elevator. The butterflies in your stomach seemed to be fighting each other on your way to the main entrance, and just when you finally stood outside and your phone buzzed, making you look down at it and then back at the street to see Erling’s face peeking out from an impressive car, did you realize there was nothing to be nervous about.

“Hello, gorgeous.” He got out of the car, making his way to you in three long strides. “You look beautiful, as always.” His hand reached out to you, like he wanted to touch you, but stopped at the last second. “Ready?” His fingers lingered on one strand of your hair for a few moments before he dropped it.

“I’m ready.” A smile crept onto your face. Without having a reason to do so, you let your left hand act by itself, caressing his arm for a moment. “You look amazing.”

And it wasn’t a lie. He was wearing a leather jacket that hugged his shoulders in such a way that you couldn’t stop looking. His outfit was pretty much black on black, with his blue Jordans being the only pop of color. His eyes smiled at you, and you knew you were about to experience the best date ever.

Because you felt comfortable around him. His hand reached for the small of your back, guiding you to the car as you two chatted, but you didn’t feel his touch invasive. The calm that overcame the nervousness had you smiling as you entered the car, taking in Erling’s scent. It smelled like every single thing you liked in the world combined into one.

“How was practice?” You asked once he made it behind the wheel. The sight of him driving did things to you, so you had to physically stop yourself from touching him again. “I hope you aren’t too tired.”

“To see you? Never.” His smile was so sweet. Oh, how were you supposed to survive this date? “But training was fine, not as exhausting; I’m getting used to their rhythm.”

“It must be difficult to get used to a whole new team dynamic so quickly.” You didn’t know a lot about football, but you could figure out that much. “Do you miss your old team?”

“Honestly?” He was staring right ahead, but you could see one side of his mouth lifting slightly. “A lot. They were family to me, still are.” He shrugged. “But I had to go; football is like this sometimes. We can’t help it.”

“At least your new teammates are nice.” You stated it, but instantly doubted it. “Right?”

“Yeah, they are! I’ve already made some friends. All of them are good lads, can’t say they’re unwelcoming.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But again, you’re a lovely guy. It doesn’t surprise me that you’d made friends so fast.” Your cheeks were burning red; once again, your mouth acted by itself.

“Oh, I’m lovely, eh?” His cheeky smile made you laugh, not giving importance to your embarrassment. “What about you? I haven’t met anyone sweeter than you.“

“Oh, stop!”

“I’m serious! Actually, I have a whole dinner to talk about you in a minute.” You felt the car stop, your eyes going straight to the restaurant to your left. “Wait here.”

“What? Why?” You were so transfixed by the restaurant’s fancy exterior that you didn’t catch why he was asking you to wait. He got out of the car, getting to your door fast enough for you to still be sitting there, clueless.

Then your door opened, with him peeking over it with a tiny smile.

Oh, god. You weren’t surviving this date at all.

“You are lovely.” You said once you got out, taking the hand he was offering. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.”

Walking to the door, you thought you saw some people taking a double look at Erling. That only reminded you of his fame, but nothing could affect your mood. His hand was warm, and, not surprisingly, big. It engulfed yours in a way that made you smirk.

“Good night. Table for two.” The guy at the reception looked up to him with a blank stare, like his eyes couldn’t believe who he was seeing, before dropping them to the book between his hands. “It’s under Haaland, with a double ‘a’.”

“Yes, good night, Mr. Haaland... Miss.” He made a slight nod in your direction, looking extremely professional. “Right this way.” He guided you inside the place, which was breathtaking with all of the vintage furniture, the crystal chandeliers, and the beautiful flower themed decoration. “Here it is, table for two by the balcony. I’ll lower the curtains if you like.” Then you noticed the table hiding behind a tall balcony window with an unbelievable view of the city.

You didn’t know what type of guy this whole date made Erling out to be, but whatever that was, you loved it.

“What do you say? Do you want to lower the curtains?” Erling’s hand touched yours, which was resting on his forearm, making you wake up from the trance you were in while admiring your surroundings.

“I… Sure, let’s lower the curtains.” If that means more privacy, then you’ll take it.

“Very well. Please take a seat while I make the final arrangements for your stay.” The man finally left, making the curtains fall, isolating you both from the rest of the place.

What was left was the view of the city, and Erling.

“This is so quiet.” You said, feeling the breeze on your hair. “I like it.”

“I thought you might like it.” You both kept staring right ahead for a few seconds before taking a seat, facing each other with the smile you only wore on your first date with someone. It was shy, sweet, and full of hope. “I’m so glad you’re here. I didn’t think you were going to say yes at all.”

“Really? Why?” There was no way he doubted it. How was that possible?

“You were just… so sweet. I didn’t think you’d say yes to a complete stranger. I was hoping for the best.” His smile was mesmerizing. “I was lucky enough to catch your attention.”

“It was the broad shoulders, actually.” You enjoyed watching his eyes almost disappear while he laughed at your words. “And the long blonde hair.”

“Were they? Damn, I wish I knew that earlier.” His laugh was so contagious. You liked it a lot.

“Good night. Sorry to interrupt. Are you open to seeing the menu?” A waiter appeared on the curtain’s edge with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You understood his expression all too well; he was tired. He handed you the menus with soft movements before placing his hands close to his body. “Please let me know if you’ll like anything in particular; I’ll be within earshot.” Before you could say “thanks”, he had already disappeared.

“What are you in the mood to drink?” Erling asked, eyeing the menu with interest. “Do you like wine?”

“Only if it’s sweet.” You eyed the menu too, disturbed by the fact that there weren’t any prices listed. What kind of restaurant didn’t have their prices on the menu?

“Well, that’s a deal then. Do you want anything else? Water? An appetizer?” You blinked at the question, not knowing what to do. He could surely afford anything on the menu since he brought you here, but it was still… weird.

“What about the unpronounceable one with the French name that, apparently, has salmon?” You both laughed at your suggestion, your cheeks going a bit red because it was evident you’d never step foot in a restaurant this fancy.

“I actually love the idea of eating something that I don’t have the slightest idea of what it has inside.” He leaned over the menu, giving you a look that made your smile wider. “You aren’t allergic to anything in particular, right?”

“Not at all.” You leaned as well, enjoying the proximity.

“Perfect then. Weird french appetizer it is! Waiter?”

The guy appeared out of nowhere, making you wonder if he was closer than expected. He looked as unimpressed as before, so you figured that it wasn’t the first— nor the last time—- that he’d heard weird things while working. He took your order with a quick nod, not questioning or talking unless either of you asked for something specific.

“Can I ask if you have already decided on the main course?”

“Oh, well.” Erling took a quick glance at the menu, shrugging right after. “I’ll have a steak, actually. Rare, with… Uh… The zucchini, carrot, and apple ribbons.”

“What about you, madam?”

“I’ll have the lobster tortellini.” You said that with enough confidence to not cringe at yourself. Once the waiter left, you eyed Erling, raising an eyebrow at him until he raised one back at you.

“What?”

“Rare?” You laughed, not wanting to believe that you liked a man who ate rare meat. “You are basically asking for an alive piece of meat on your plate, Erling.”

“Ow, c’mon! All the good stuff goes away if you cook it!”

“You can’t be serious!” You liked feeling like you could mess with him. “I’m not taking any of your food opinions seriously if you think that.”

“Oh yeah? Then it doesn’t matter what I think about your food?” His cocky grin made you blush, but you stood your ground.

“That’s very different, you know! My food is amazing.”

“Excuse me, would you like to try the wine first?” The waiter appeared out of nowhere, startling you both.

“Sure thing, we want to get drunk. Don’t we, dear?”

That didn’t take a reaction out of the waiter, but it made you laugh, so Erling kept making silly comments throughout the dinner until the poor guy seemed done with life in general.

You didn’t remember having that much fun on a date since… ever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Have a lovely evening. Please, come back anytime.” The waiter gave you a smile wider than the universe; apparently, it only took a good tip for him to actually show emotion and suddenly like Erling’s jokes.

You both giggled on your way out, Erling’s jacket covering your shoulders as you both walked slowly to the main entrance, red-faced from the bottle of wine and full of food that you still didn’t have the slightest idea of what it was. Your hand was back on his forearm, his tall figure feeling warm against your arm as you followed him.

“I dunno if it would be a good idea to drive right now.” He said once outside, his eyes wandering on his car. “But what else can we do? It’s midnight.”

You both stared at the car for a good minute before giggling nonstop, finding somehow funny how neither of you could drive right now. You were basically stuck there, but it felt like a good thing.

“Maybe we can walk around that park over there?” The idea came suddenly, since it was only now, at the peak of your semi-drunk state, that you noticed the beautiful park a few meters away. “We are not that drunk, so we should be able to walk like normal people… Right?” You looked up to him, catching his pleased smile just in time before he turned his head to look at the park’s direction.

“We are not, beautiful. But we could walk, of course. Any time to add to this date if a yes to me.”

“You’re so cheeky.” You laughed, loving the feeling of being wanted and appreciated by this man.

You were both tipsy, and one good thing about you being tipsy was that your shyness faded away, leaving your truth, and sometimes unhinged, thoughts to come out.

“I love this idea.” He said, guiding you across the almost deserted street. “There isn’t anything more romantic than walking around a park at night.”

“This totally feels like a romcom.” You were wearing his jacket, a cute dress, and walking around a park next to a guy that made you feel like you were floating. He was right. This was romantic.

“Is that a good thing?” He seemed slightly worried, which made you smile even more.

“I love romcoms, Erling.”

You both shared a brief stare, and you felt the electricity run between the two of you. Your skin exploded in goosebumps, and you suddenly remembered he was there, he was real and you were on a date.

Was he going to kiss you?

“I can’t stop saying how beautiful you look tonight.” He whispered, your steps slowly coming to a halt. His hand reached for your face, and this time, he didn’t stop until his fingers were touching your hair.

You didn’t say a word, scared of fucking up the moment. You felt your heart beating so hard that you feared it would be noticeable while he kept staring down at you like you were the only person in the world. It was melting you.

“Erling…” You finally said, reaching for his hand, your fingers exploring the back of it, not knowing what to expect from the kiss that was most definitely coming.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmured, already looking at your lips with such intensity that it took your breath away.

“Yes…”

Once your lips met, your bodies followed. Your hands went for his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt feeling soft against your palms as you held on to them. You felt his hands grabbing your waist, pushing your body against his softly. His lips were soft, warm, amazing. You didn’t recall sharing a kiss on a first date that felt like this. It was so cliche, yet so good.

This was the best kiss you’ve ever had. He was kissing you like it was the best kiss he’d ever had.

You aren’t surviving this. At all.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST —

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gmbencompetence · 2 years

Text

Arcana Fans,

Can we talk about the Tarot Decks? The Arcana Tarot Decks. I’m proud of them. It also ends in a painful memory. They are, all in all, the high and low of my time at Nix Hydra

In short: I’m one of the main people that made Arcana Tarot Decks a reality.

My job was answering emails, monitoring the Arcana social media tags, and generally having my finger on the pulse of the community. I knew that, by a wide margin, Tarot Decks were the biggest request. My coworker (who shall remain nameless for their privacy) was part of the team that made the Arcana and knew how much Tarot resonated with fans. This co-worker and I fought for about 1-1.5 years getting them greenlit.

In all honesty, they were a completely audacious idea. Nix Hydra didn’t make much money from merchandise. Maybe $100 a month. The cost of an *initial* run of Arcana Tarot Decks would take something like $25,000 to get going. This is because of creating the art, securing people to help package/ship them, actual costs of packaging/shipping itself, and more. Also, my partner on the project was very insistent that we work with a company that produced them at an extremely high quality with gold trim edges. Gold trim edges was important (they were right).

So, the Nix Hydra merch store made less than $200 a month, and my coworker and I were trying to pitch something that would COST $25,000~ to get started. If it made $25,000 back, that’s still a waste of time because it means we would have made the same money just skipping the whole thing.

This next part is fuzzy, but if I remember right, we tested the waters with stickers. We stocked Arcana stickers to see how quickly they sold. They sold fast. Like… fast. This was good. It was our test case to at least prove that “People want Arcana Merch”. It heated the iron, and my coworker and I struck. We got the approval!

So here’s the most nerve wracking moment of my career here. I’ve been in the game industry 12 years, but I’ve never run a merchandise store Nix Hydra. Even after that, I sent out a few sticker sheets every month. Forget about convincing a company to invest $25,000~ into my mad idea. And then… if they DID sell. What, then!? I always have a lot of anxiety, and I kept thinking of ways it could go wrong. What if I broke some international shipping law? What if I did the math wrong and operated at a loss? What if the site charged people the wrong amount? I KNEW the Tarot Decks would sell, but that was scary, too!

The day came that we flipped the switch. I was so excited. I was so excited! I was so… scared. At this point, all that was left was to see if we could make above the starting amount…

We made about $200,000 in the first 24 hours. Now, this was 3-4 years ago, so I may be SIGNIFICANTLY off. But my point is that we made six digits very quickly. By this same time tomorrow, this went from “Gunpowder and Coworker’s brassy, sassy idea” to “Merch is a hit! What’s next?”

Over the next few months and weeks, we had a joyful hectic hell of the best anxiety. Problems would come up. We’d knock them down. We’d run out of storage space in the office and it would look almost comical. We’d have truckloads of shipment issues. I soon found out that simply taking the packages to the post office was its own complicated project. All of this expanded into hiring people to help with merch. These people were extremely passionate about The Arcana and began to be advocates for what merch to add next. I could gush about how amazing they are for hours, but for privacy’s sake, I’m refraining from saying much about my coworkers.

So like that, we went from “Merch doesn’t sell” to “We need a merch department” in a few months. By the time I left the company, the CEO (you’ve seen his name around) projected the Merch alone to be a $1M a year revenue stream. I don’t know if we ever hit that goal. My point was that he felt it was possible, which made me happy.

… which brings me to how the story ends painfully. I have moderate ADHD. I personally think it’s severe, but my doctor says moderate, so hey. I tend to fall behind on assignments a lot. I also tend to get distracted super easily. It can ruffle feathers in a work environment. I did not realize how much. See, this project was in full swing, my work was going well, and I had also designed all the gameplay of Heart Hunter (that was me! I’ll write a post on that later). I felt good about all of this. I had a meeting with the CEO and was going to ask him for a raise.

“[Name], just so you know, I sometimes sit and my desk and go over the pros and cons of letting you go.” He said it conversationally. It was casual to him. My stomach fell out. I asked him why, and it turned out that he was being very, very literal.

See, he made a pros and cons list of every thing he likes about me and every thing that he doesn’t. I’ll spare you the whole list, but in the Cons side was “Doesn’t focus on work all 8 hours of the day”. I was flabbergasted and told him “But… I do a lot of projects. And YOU said the merch store is estimated at $1M a year!” At this point, it is extremely important to note that nothing about the merch store was in my job description besides “Ship stickers and answer emails”. Literally everything I mentioned above were things I did in my spare time without being asked. Out of love for the company.

“Yes, I agree that you’re very passionate and creative. See, I put that on the list!”

He points to the Pros and Cons list. “passionate and creative” is cancelled out by “doesn’t focus all 8 hours of the day”. It was a tie. The project I co-led started a whole new department and seven-digit (estimated) revenue… it wasn’t even the only one I did (Heart Hunter was also a side project, albeit one I was assigned). And all of that, in his mind, was cancelled out by “doesn’t work all 8 hours a day”.

I never got a raise. I never got a bonus. I never even got job security. None of it mattered to him.

I started looking for a job the next day.

—-

There’s more to the story, but I think this is the main point. This is the best and worst of Nix Hydra. It was a place where people like my coworker and I would make extra time to work on new things simply because we believed in our work that much. Where players joyfully supported our work because it resonated with them. Where new employees would be so passionate about their work that they would keep an entire department afloat on their own fantastic ideas. It was also a place where none of this could even amount to job security or recognition. It was frustrating, and it was joyful.

I meant every single smile at a public event. So did every member of the team that was there. It was never “just PR”; it was people who were over the moon to get to help create these stories and worlds and moments. We loved it. But management never loved us back. And that stung.

Thank you, every single person who posted their tarot decks. Who put them into your cosplays. Who did readings.

Thank you everyone who posted your Heart Hunter moments. Who shared the postcards I fought tooth and nail to see in the game (It was SO difficult to convince some people that “postcards would be the type of reward players want”).

My entire life, I’ve had joyful moments in games and game communities. My lifelong dream was to help make those moments come alive for others. When you all celebrated this game and those aspects of it, that was very genuinely a lifelong dream come true.

Thank you for reading this. And also The Arcana.

#arcana #the arcana #nix Hydra

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bigfan-fanfic · 4 months

Text

Settling Down (Peter Parker x Percy Jackson x Dick Grayson x Reader)

Requested by @jayfeather965 for Short fic request! Moving to the Pokémon world with Dick, Peter, and Percy?

A slight modification in that we're assuming they're already in the Pokemon world, and helping you choose your first Pokemon/general headcanons about them with Pokemon. Dick has a Lucario that he taught Acrobatics. Peter has a Pikachu that knows Electroweb. And Percy has a Dewott.

With the three loves of your life being lifelong Pokemon trainers, it may be surprising to some that you have never had one.

But you've never had the time, or the room, or inclination.

But with two vigilantes and a demigod as your partners, now you have all three.

Your apartment, a floor-through space, though technically Dick owns the whole building, is Pokemon friendly and accommodating. Percy uses the water room for training along with his Dewott, which is way more disciplined than he is - though sometimes they train with Dick and his Lucario in the gym area. There's a lab for Peter's experiments where his Pikachu helps expend its excess energy by producing the electricity for his machines when not utilizing the solar power grid.

But, since it's a chill day before you've asked your partners to help you actually find a Pokemon, you decide to see if they have any final advice.

Peter and Pikachu

Peter got his Pokemon the conventional way, from a Pokemon Professor.

He was a shy kid, and his Pikachu helped him come out of his shell, so to speak, mainly because it was so outgoing.

And quick to electrocute his bullies.

Getting his superpowers was, pun intended, quite a shock.

But now he finally had the strength and the speed to keep up with his zippy little friend. He could swing around New York with his little buddy zipping along like a lightning strike.

It was probably that that cemented their relationship.

They looked out for each other, developed new techniques, and perhaps most crucially, finally exhausted the little mouse of its boundless energy.

So with a much calmer and less aggressive companion, Peter and his Pokemon seem at peace.

When you find him, he's in his lab, and his Pikachu is playfully bouncing sparks around in the little wire cage they use to expend the surplus electricity.

"Hey! Excited about tomorrow, babe?" Peter chirps, grinning at you.

"Yeah. Just... trying to see if there's any last minute tips you have."

"Well... don't count out a Pokemon just because they seem too different from you. Pikachu and I get along so well, but we were so different at first. It took a while to realize how much it likes napping on me, even if it makes my hair stand up, haha."

Moves - Electroweb, Quick Attack, Electro Ball, Magnet Rise (speedy moves + floating to easier maneuver with Peter)

Dick and Lucario

Dick only got his Lucario from Bruce. It was an egg that hatched into a Riolu.

Bruce had been endeavoring to help Dick learn some responsibility.

So Dick raised the thing from a Riolu pup, taking care of it. A task he took to like a fish to water.

At first, he didn't want to take the Pokemon out with him on patrol, knowing it'd be in danger.

But one day he came home injured, and the worried Riolu sat with him all night, working so hard on something.

When Dick awoke, he realized his Pokemon had evolved. And not only that, it had learned Heal Pulse to try to help him.

Dick felt so bonded with his Pokemon then, and they began to work together, even on patrol.

So they trained together, with Dick's style even helping his Lucario learn a move it ordinarily couldn't - Acrobatics.

Dick trusts his Pokemon partner with his life, and it him - so much so that it rarely, if ever, is in its Ball. It tends to just chill in its own space.

"Your Pokemon tend to teach you as much as you teach them. Don't think about what a Pokemon can do for you at first - instead, just focus on feeling that starting connection. You're finding a friend for life."

Moves - Acrobatics, Heal Pulse, Aura Sphere, Bone Rush

Percy and Dewott

Percy caught his Oshawott in Montauk - perhaps it was sent to him by Poseidon.

Unlike Dick or Peter, his Pokemon tends to be a lot different than him - instead of strengthening what he knows, it covers some of his deficiencies.

His Pokemon is both more childlike than him, and more disciplined.

Which means it tends to help him him relax when he needs to, and urges him to train and focus when he should.

Meanwhile he can be the midpoint between its playful and focused moods.

When it became a Dewott, they made the choice to have its scalchops edged with Celestial bronze, and it helps destroy monsters with as much aplomb as Percy does.

They have both made the decision together not to evolve it further, as Dewott likes to be able to use tools.

Of the three, Percy tends to use his Poke Ball the most to take care of his Dewott. It's a quick way to get it out of danger, and Percy doesn't like when it wanders off.

He'll have it stored in his Poke Ball in public, usually, and unleashes it to battle or at home for leisure.

You encounter Percy listening to music and chuckling as the Dewott tries to dance.

"You can't worry about it all that much." Percy says to you with a smile when you ask for advice. "Your Pokemon will choose you just as much as you choose it. They're not just pets, they're partners too."

Moveset: Razor Shell, X-Scissor, Icy Wind, Air Slash

At the end of it all, you feel pretty excited at the prospect of finding a Pokemon of your own.

Dick has reminded you to focus on the connection, and not the potential capabilities of a partner.

Peter has told you to keep an open mind.

And Percy has reminded you that it's a two-way process.

With all these tips, your anxiety is mostly calmed.

And of course, it's forgotten before bedtime when Dick playfully lines up their Pokemon and makes them "promise" to make your new buddy feel at home.

Pikachu chirrups playfully, Dewott nods seriously, and Lucario crosses its arms and holds one paw out, trying to do a thumbs up.

And you just know that no matter what happens, your new friend will be coming to a great home...

#peter parker x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #percy jackson x male reader #batman x male reader #pjo headcanons #spiderman x male reader #marvel headcanons #dc headcanons #headcanons #pokemon x male reader #pokemon headcanons

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criminalamnesia · 2 years

Text

Habits of My Heart

warnings: fluff, Jake being soft, childhood best friends to lovers, she/her pronouns used, not proofread, Jake is probably a little ooc sorry, I’m not really good at writing fluff so I hope this isn’t too cheesy

summary: you haven’t seen Jake in months due to his busy schedule, but after he returns from his top-secret TOPGUN mission, you decide to hop on the next flight to Fighter Town, USA.

author’s note: back with some Jake fluff because I’ve written enough angst for him lately and he deserves happiness

update: part 2 is out now! You can read ‘Into Your Arms’ here

You hadn’t talked to Jake for longer than a minute each time he called in the past six weeks. This was nothing new; every time he deployed, your chats were painfully short. By the time you answered the phone, you had enough time to say a quick, ‘hi, how are you?’ and then a ‘be safe, tex’ before the line died and you both went back to your busy lives.

It was difficult, but you were used to it by now. Besides, you two didn’t need to speak every day anyways. You had been friends since kindergarten– having been pushed together by your mothers who had also been childhood friends. At first you had loathed him, but as you both grew, you learned to love him.

You had even held a little crush on him for a few years during high school. Who wouldn’t? He was the star football player with a dazzling smile and a flirtatious tongue. He had all the girls at school drooling over him, you included.

But nothing ever came of it, you were sure of that. You’d rather run into oncoming traffic than admit to Jake Seresin that you liked him. He would never stop teasing you about it, and besides– it’s not like he liked you back, right?

By the time you two were seniors in high school, you’d forgotten all about your crush. Especially after you walked into the girl’s bathroom during prom and interrupted Jake and some cheerleader’s intense make-out session on the bathroom counter. Yeah, that was enough to knock some sense back into your head.

Then you went to college and Jake enlisted. You saw each other less and less– and maybe everyone in the world was right when they said “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” because a day could not go by without you wishing to see Jake’s stupid little grin.

You talked on the phone and occasionally FaceTimed. He surprised you at your college graduation– but after he finished his training and started flying for real, it was rare you saw him. So, that’s how you found yourself here, at some bar in Fighter Town that his mom told you he frequented (how the hell did she know that?).

You hadn’t told him you were coming. He basically just got back to the states himself– he sent you a text while you were on your flight confirming that and telling you’d he talk to you tomorrow– that he was going to get some post-we-almost-died-drinks with his friends.

You couldn’t think of any better way for him to spend his night.

The Hard Deck definitely looked like a place Jake would frequent as you walked through sand to reach its doors. You could see through the windows how crowded it was, and you could hear the abundance of voices inside from the parking lot. Definitely his scene.

You pushed through the glass doors and were instantly swept into the sea of people. You saw many dressed in service khakis, which you silently cursed as it made it harder to clearly spot Jake.

The crowd pushed you up to the bar, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel nervous– why? You didn’t know. He was your longest friend and you were feeling nervous over seeing him again. You almost wanted to laugh if you didn’t think you’d vomit the moment you opened your mouth.

“You okay, sweetie?” A woman’s voice cut over the roar in the room, her kind eyes locking onto yours as she leaned slightly over the bar.

You nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Just fine, thanks.”

“First time here?” She replied, a small smile forming on her mouth.

You nodded, and before you could even speak, she was sliding you a beer.

“It’s on the house. And you’ll get used to the crowd,” she smiled and nodded before disappearing to tend to other customers.

You silently thanked her kindness and took a long swig of your beer, hoping it would give you some liquid courage.

Maybe you were so nervous because you hadn’t seen him in so long. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d talked in person, face-to-face. Maybe last year? You had certainly changed since then, and you knew he had, too.

“You’ve literally been his friend since he was still a bed-wetter,” you muttered to yourself, standing on your tip toes as your eyes scanned the busy bar.

You spotted him in the back by the pool tables. He had his back turned to you, but you’d recognize that blond hair and posture anywhere. Nerves forgotten, you quickly finished your beer and begun to weave through the crowd, hoping he wouldn’t turn around.

As luck would have it, he stayed planted to the spot you’d first saw him in as you finally made it to his little group. Unsurprisingly, they were all in service khakis. They’d probably been on assignment with him.

No one saw you as you crept up behind him. He was lost in thought as he studied the pool table, which gave you the chance to really surprise him.

“Hey pilot, can we go for a ride in your jet?” You tried to get the cheesy line out seriously, but couldn’t help but let a little snort escape as he turned around, face smug and a suggestive reply already leaving his mouth before his eyes landed on you.

“What the fuck?” His eyes widened as he took you in, looking you up and down.

“Surprise!” You threw up some jazz hands as you grinned at him.

He engulfed you in a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly and lifting you from the ground as he swung you around. You laughed, clinging on to him. By now, his friends had noticed the two of you, but you paid them no mind as Jake set you back on solid ground.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” He said, pulling you to the side.

“That’s kinda the point of a surprise, Tex,” you teased. You couldn’t stop smiling, and he couldn’t either.

“You look good. It’s been, what, a year since we saw each other?”

“Too long,” you replied. Now it was your turn to look him up and down. He definitely looked good.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

You scoffed, playfully pushing his chest. “Oh, you know whose it is. I’m not the one leaving the country on top-secret missions at the drop of a hat.”

“It makes me mysterious. Ladies love the mystery.”

“Do they?” You laughed, leaning slightly into him. God, you had missed him. Hearing his laugh through the phone could not compare to hearing it right in front of you.

“They do. You should know. You’re madly in love with me.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart rate spiking the tiniest bit at the thought of being found out– but you knew he was teasing. He always teased like this.

“If anything, you’re the one madly in love with me. All the navy groupies in this bar and you’re over here talking to me. Gotta mean somethin’.”

His smile was blinding as he wrapped and arm around your shoulders, pulling you sideways into his chest.

“You’re my favorite navy groupie.”

“I’ll let that comment slide because I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face.”

He laughed as he steered you back towards the pool table. His friends had all been watching the two of you, but as you approached they tried– and failed– to act as if they hadn’t.

“And who’s this?” A man piped up as he looked you up and down from across the pool table.

“This, everyone, is the biggest pain in my ass that’s been there since kindergarten.”

You raised a hand in a wave, rolling your eyes at Jake’s words. “What he means is that I’m the better half of the duo.”

The only woman of the group looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Her mouth was agape as she studied you and Jake.

“We all thought Hangman was making you up!”

“You thought Hangman was making her up,” a man with a mustache and aviators replied smugly, leaning in closer to the woman. “You owe me $20, Phoenix.”

Phoenix grumbled to herself as she begrudgingly took out her wallet and passed a $20 to the man. He tipped an imaginary hat at her and laughed. She punched him in the arm.

“I am definitely not made up, and I am definitely ready to embarrass Jake. Who wants to know what?” You smiled slyly as the group erupted into chaos; Jake’s shouts for them to ignore you going unheard as the group pulled you in.

—

Jake finally pulled you away from the others hours later, claiming he’d been embarrassed enough for one night and that he had a reputation to uphold.

You had made sure to get every one of his friend’s numbers before leaving, just incase you felt like embarrassing him some more.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence as you made your way to his truck. You had taken a taxi from your hotel, so it worked out.

He opened the passenger door for you and you rolled your eyes as you hopped into the vehicle. He slid into the driver’s seat a second later, but made no move to start the car.

“You okay, Tex?” You asked, worried. He was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Just thinking about all the ways I can get you back for tonight,” he told you, his gaze containing a hint of mischief.

“Can it wait until I’m back in Texas?” You pleaded, to which he shook his head.

“Nope, absolutely not.”

You groaned and he grinned.

“You’re evil,” you told him.

“I’ve been called worse.” He shrugged.

You both fell silent for a minute.

“I didn’t think you were gonna make it back this time. Your mom was telling me what little she knew, but it wasn’t a lot, and I was worried.” You looked down at your hands in your lap as you spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? All I knew was that you were overseas.”

“I was trying to get you to not worry,” he chuckled.

“I always worry about you, idiot. You’re reckless and headstrong. You’re always finding trouble.”

He didn’t respond for a beat. Then:

“Would it make you stop worrying to hear that I’m coming home for a bit?”

“You’re full of shit,” you instantly replied. You hadn’t known him to ever take time off from his job. He loved being a pilot; he loved the navy, and he was incredibly dedicated to his work. It was one of the things you admired about him, but also secretly wished were different about him.

“I’m serious. I don’t know how long, at least a month– but I’m coming home. It’s been too long.”

You sat in silence, multiple emotions washing over you all at once. You knew something serious had to have happened for Jake to be taking a step back, and you were scared as to what that was. As far as you knew, none of his fellow aviators had died, but what if he or they had come close to it?

He knew the risk of getting up in the air, they all did. It was part of the job. But you had never seen him so hesitant to go back to work, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

You took a deep breath and nodded. You could unpack this baggage later– if he’d ever let his walls down and talk to you about it. Now, you were just glad to have him back.

“You still look worried,” he teased.

“Shut up.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Oh, I’m cute?” You grinned against your will.

“The cutest,” he replied.

“You say that to all the girls.”

“No,” he said. “Just you.”

Silence filled the air once more. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out his angle. Jake always teased– it was his nature. He was the annoying guy best friend who said things to try and get you to blush. Then he’d make fun of you for blushing.

“I haven’t missed your teasing, Tex,” you finally said.

“I do love to tease you,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. “But I’m not right now.”

“Did you hit your head or something?”

“What? No.”

“I think you hit your head. You never compliment me–”

He interrupted. “I compliment you all the time–”

“Teasing and joking doesn’t count.”

He fell silent, having been defeated. Then he muttered a quiet:

“I do think you’re cute.”

“Are we in grade school? Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming. Don’t actually pinch me, dickwad.” You warned before he could even raise his hand. He laughed.

“Can you take this seriously?”

“Oh, how the tables have turned. How does it feel, Tex? Annoying, huh?” You leaned slightly over the center console, poking him in the arm. “Now you know how it feels.”

“I don’t act like this,” he shot back.

“Yes you do. If only you could see yourself–”

“Okay, I get it,” he huffed exasperatedly.

“Oh, do you? I don’t think you do–”

You were cut off as he leaned over the center console, crashing his lips onto yours. You were startled, eyes wide as you quickly pushed him off. He looked confused, maybe even a little hurt, but he backed off instantly.

“What the hell was that?”

He shrugged. You mocked his shrug, throwing up your hands. He mimicked your movements, throwing his hands up as well.

You both looked at each other for a few tense seconds before leaning back in, kissing with fervor. Never in a million years did you think you’d be kissing Jake Seresin, yet here you were. And he initiated it.

You’d have to unpack that later.

You pulled back from him again, both of you catching your breaths. You turned away from him, shifting in your seat to face the windshield. You felt his eyes boring holes into the side of your head.

“Are you angry?” He asked.

“What? No. Why would I be angry?” You replied, turning back to face him.

“Okay, you’re being confusing. First you’re pulling away then you’re kissing me back then you’re turning away–”

“I’m waiting for you to get the message and drive so we don’t make-out in the parking lot of this bar, where all of your colleagues are currently at.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding as he finally turned the keys in the ignition.

Both of you sat in silence as he drove out of the parking lot. It wasn’t until you were almost at his apartment that you spoke again.

“Do I get a badge for kissing you? One that says: ‘I made-out with Jake Seresin and all I got was this stupid badge’?” You looked over at him with a straight face. He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t even know why I missed you,” he sighed as he pulled into a parking spot, putting the car in park and turning it off.

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” you told him as you slipped out of the car, meeting him at on the driver’s side.

“If you’ll be quiet, then gladly.”

You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t annoyed. Not in the slightest.

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