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forevermore-quoth-the-kitten · 2 years

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MC Grooms the Boys! (Part 1)

MC finds themself watching as only a few of the boys actually regularly take care of their demon appendages and thats fine, but self matinence is hard sometimes so after reading all about it, you decide that they need help!

Lucifer

lucifer is shocked when you show up with a book on demon grooming, some supplies he recognized having come from his own bathroom, and the words 'let me groom you' spilling from your lips.

demon appendages are more sensitive as a generalization, so he's quick to shut you down as he knows few others know how much pressure to use to keep from hurting him. it would be find if his wings were featherless, but he's the only demon with feathers wings in the devildom, so it's different and-

-and that's why you're offering to help, you say? you've noticed how it takes him so long to groom and he's been busy lately, so he hasn't taken the time on the weekend to groom like he normally does.

Lucifer, as much as wants to tell you no, period, he simply cant resiste you (and the prospect of help is very appealing), so he moved to the coffee table instead of his desk to give you access to his wings.

the book is one he knows, so he refrains from telling more than you need and helping you know exactly how much pressure to use that doesn't hurt but still feels good.

once you get the hang of it yours running your hands through his feathers and straightening them before using his oils and brushed on them.

forget his work, Lucifer is relaxing under your touch and is simply laying on his table.

you hae to nudge him out of his half awake state to get him to sit up once youre done with his wings to scrub his horns.

when youre done you're not going anywhere for a while, he's too chill. so stay with him and enjoy this for a while, work can wait.

Mammon

Mammon, as a model, takes very good care of himself. but when you ask him to let your groom him since he seems to struggle with it, he goes bright red and stutters excuses.

but obviously inwardly he's absolutely preening that you want to do something so intimate with him, so he's pretty quick to agree and shows you where he keeps his grooming tools.

Mammon's about to show you how to do everything but you've already read al about it and have him sit in front of you with a movie on his tv or something as you start gently wet a soft brush and scrub at the top edge of his wings to remove any old little scales from it.

Mammon's a puddle of happy demon really fast as you clean and rub oil into his wings.

he has to move closer so you can reach his tail, but he's more then willing to.

when you're done you barely say anything before he's turned around and is pushing his horns into your hands, greedy for more of your touch.

hes gets pouty when youre done and yeah, you dont get much of a choice when it comes to cuddles afterwards.

Leviathan

you pop the questions and cue a dropped gaming controller and a bright red stuttering otaku who insists that you don't need to help a yuvky otaku like him-

you cut that off real quick, explaing that you did research about demon grooming habits and that recently when he's been in his demon form, you've seen how he tail rubs on things and twitches around likes its agitated, so you'd like to groom his tail.

its takes some coaxing but Levi admits he's shedding and it's really annoying since he doesn't have the patience to take care of it early on so he just deals with the feeling until shedding it over.

you're not having any of that and of course he can't say no to his Henry! within 15 minutes you've got the grooming supplies you bought around you with LEvi sitting in front of you, one of his favorite anime's on, as you pull is tail into your lap.

he's nervous and barely able to focus at first, but then whatever firm brush you've got in your hand is making circles on his tail and gently pulling his loose scales from his tail. his tail is tight close scales, likes a scales. its meant to hold heat and keep water out since he's a water type demon, so there's nothing to come out from under it, so all you have to do and get all the old scales out and off his tail.

Levi's making a noise akin to purring as he sighs in happy relief, watching his show but not fully registering it as your work down his tail before using a softer brush to soothe it with some nice smelling oil.

he stutters a bit when you also want to clean his horns, but the prospect of his head on your lap is too much to refuse.

that also feels really nice, especially since, due to how the branch out and stuff, its hard to see them to clean them properly, so it's great to have someone else able to see them doing it for him.

melted otaku takes some time to firm up after grooming, give it at least one anime episode before trying to move.

Satan

sorry, you want to what? Satan almost laughs, have you see his tail? its made up of a bunch of hard segments and plates, he doesn't have much to do in terms of caring for his extremeties.

the offer is nice and he'll love to spend time with you, but you're insistant and satan relenets if only to show you that there's nothing really to do-is the a hoof pick? why did you bring a hoof pick to groom him-

Satan falls silent as he goes cross eyed when you take the pick and swipe dirt and dead skin out from under a scale on his tail. fuck, what did you do? there's no way that was all you did, it felt amazing. his tail was never very sensitve, it's too built and armored with hard scales for that-

you show the stuff that collected under it to hima nd Satan's a bit shocked, but you wipe it off on a towel and do it again, Satan's quickly wrapping his tail around you and dragging you to his bed, laying down on his front on it, using a pillow to hide his blush, but you happily settle down and start grooming gunk out from under every piece.

satan's giving happy and relaxed little sighs the whole time, turning into a puddle of temperance, wondering how he'd never thought to even try to do something like that before.

after all of that is over he's sad when he thinks youre done, but you start scrubbing oil into his tail with a brush and now he turns a bit to talk to you, still very calm and happy about the quality time.

you're offering to also clean his horns now? go right ahead, he'll tell you about whatever new drama he's been watching recently while you do.

Asmodeus

he takes immense pride in his looks, and obviously takes very good care of himself in all his forms! but now you're saying its obviously hard to take care of his wings and are offering to help?!

oh he's never going to turn down such an intimate offer from you!

you two settle on his bed surrounded by his supplies that he's given you the pick of and he does want to chat with you while you groom him.

but oohhhh, he's forgotten how it feels to be groomed by someone else. it feels good, and not in the way you're suspicious of. the avatar of lust is a softly purring pile of affection as he lets you clean old scales off his wings and scrub both sides of them.

hes a bit mroe himself and tells you gossip when you start to scrub his horns, but hes speaking a bit slowly and expression wise, looks more like a sated Belphie.

Asmo doesn't mind the comparison, he feels like sleepy but not super tired Belphie, the relaxing feeling of being groomed is incredible.

when you're done he insists you stay so he can give you a massage so you know exactly how he feels, which oddly enough didn't actually seem like any sort of innuendo. and even if you don't want to accept the offer, he will insist you stay with him for some lazy cuddles (which he may or may not nod off during).

Beelzebub

huh you wanna what? Beel's confused, he does very little in terms of grooming, he really doesn't need to. woudl you rather come eat with him instead?

no, you tell him about what you're read and as it turns out, even with his wings there are ways to properly care for them. he really didn't know, but they're fine, so its not a big deal?

he'll still let you when you want to, you guys just have to set him up in front of a table on a backless chair so you can reach his wings without them touching the floor.

Beels eating as you start with a wet cloth and gently wipe down his wings. it kind of tickles a bit around where wing meets skin, but he kind of freezes a bit and stops eating as you wipe down his wing.

the sudden stillness and silence are off putting, he turns to you when you stop, though, to ask you to keep going. it feels really good.

it makes you smile and Beel kind of stays in a trance like state as you wipe down his wings before pouring a bit of oil on them. it makes them flitter a bit and splash some on you, which makes you laugh. beel smiles too, hearing you, but it just feels so good as you gently hold his wing in your palm to brace it a bit as you ever so gently rub the oil into the appendages.

and contrary to his wings, he knows he should take better care of his horns, so he lets you take care of those right away. and sure enough, once again, he's in that trance like serene state as your srub and clean his horns.

when you're done and step back, Beel blinks at you before turning around, grabbing a piece of whatever food was now behind him, and moving to feed it to you.

he's grateful and he really liked that you cared enough to do, not just read up about it, but do that for him, so baby is going to try and hand feed you in thanks. if you don't take it from him thats fine, he'll just offer to share his food instead and try to get you to eat as much as possible anyways.

Belphie

Belphie could not care less when it comes to grooming himself outside of the absolutely nessecary. he doesn't have scales or feathers, so he really doesnt need to do anything like that other than brush his tail occasionally, which tends to be at some ponit after he showers, when he brushes his hair.

you;re not having any of that and make him take a shower, telling him to thoroughly scrub his hair and tail clean and to condition well. (If you want you can join him in the shower, but just know his smug lazy ass will make you do the hard work for him.)

once hes out and dressed you sit down, him half draps over your lap, as you take his tail and start to properly detangle it before you get Belphie to help and sit up so you can do the same to his hair. once both are brushed out you blow dry them and it annoys him, the heat and sound waking him up, but its all or nothing and belphie's nothing if not a greedy bastard who wants you to himself. so he'll endure his new hatred for the stupid thing and let you blow his hair and tail nice and dry and fluffy.

yeah, it's off, he's not staying awake any longer. that's fine, it makes it easier to take your time brushing his tail and putting some oil in it to make it nice and healthy and shiny. and its Belphie, and its you, so nudging him awake enough to lean up on the headboard so you can get to his head is also relatively easy.

its only while your carefully trying to scrub the horns close to his head that Belphie wakes up, meaning you can be a little less gnetle and get it done since hes awake now. Belphie doesnt talk while you get it done, but once youre done, good luck getting away from him any time soon. its nap time and you're staying, no you don't get to argue with him about it.

Part 2

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stilemawillow · 2 years

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MTIJ | Ch.17 You Got Me a Six-Pack Yet I’m Not Allowed to Touch Yours?

|mtij masterlist|

pairing: levi ackerman x reader (eren jaeger x reader)

word count: 10.1k

summary: a girl with a variety of hidden complexes has to live with a french asshole for nine months. easy? on the surface. problematic? definitely. romantic? not too much, or at least they’d make it a point to say so everytime when asked. the end? please, their dynamic isn’t as simple as that.

“What do you mean you won’t make it?”

The kitchen had been lively a second ago but my sharp tone made everybody quiet down and look at me. We’d all been discussing capitalism when my phone had rung and though my father had given me the stink eye for picking up during dinner, now both he and my mother seemed just a bit disturbed by my tone. Levi was the only one who didn’t adhere to the script of this being an excerpt from a dramatic soap opera and I was too outraged because of Eren’s excuse to appreciate that – the kicker was I should’ve predicted it because my boyfriend had stopped fulfilling his relationship duties a while ago. If somebody asked me why I thought that was, I wouldn’t be able to name a realistic enough reason.

Everything had been fine or at least, I hadn’t noticed on time it wasn’t. The renewal of my truce with the intern did a good job of distracting me at first – it still did most days. But the small things I’d overlooked at the beginning of April as coincidences, busy schedules clashing and bouts of miscommunication or forgetfulness had gradually begun piling up – Eren wasn’t texting or calling as often, he had a different excuse every time I tried to arrange a date for us and sometimes, he came up with it after I’d spent hours waiting for him. Now, it was simply a matter of me pretending to be blind and waiting for the problem at hand to fix itself when I knew very well it wouldn’t unless I did something about it. But I couldn’t do anything about it because my boyfriend was actively avoiding me even after his excuses had begun to run out and sound incredibly vague and ridiculous.

I’d thought it was a problem he had to deal with on his own that would pass if I were patient enough – something about the SAT or prom or his parents, but it obviously wasn’t, because he would’ve told me about it by now. It was something else and I didn’t, at any point, become delusional enough to consider it was the fact I spent half my time with my father’s intern. Because we’d handled that, too. Eren stayed close to Mikasa and Armin, and everybody else he had in his friend circle – all the while keeping me at a distance one would call that at which you kept a persistent stranger. People slowly came to notice it as well, which meant it wasn’t just my imagination. But, as in all tales of toxicity told by sad drunk girls at bars late in the night, the less attention my boyfriend gave me, the clingier I tried to be. Naturally, that was something most people would call an effective men repellent and they would be right because it was at that moment I came to realise shit had started clogging my life like it would clog a toilet.

My routine during the second half of April had been to call Eren daily – sometimes twice, text him excessively and check my phone every few seconds because that was how long it took him to reply under normal circumstances and, of course, go to giant lengths to arrange dates for us every three or four days, which, surprisingly back then and expectedly now, all ended before they’d even begun, with me desperately waiting till I got tired and went back home only to be greeted by my father’s insomniac intern, who, each and every time, forced me to sit at the counter so he could lecture me on philosophy and relationships in such a stiff way it always made me laugh. We’d established communication would be the key to solving this issue but talking something out with somebody who went out of his way to avoid the mere sight of me was a pretty complex situation.

I took a break from both it and my obsessively hopeless routine during the first week of May in order to cram for my SAT and when the results came in, I purposefully went to show them to my father, who didn’t, as per usual, treat them as anything special. Thankfully, his colleagues were better at congratulating me than he was and, well, maybe the fact the stoic intern had told me I’d done a good job was enough for the time being. Nonetheless, my success there had been further punctuated by a boost of energy due to the fact a celebration was in order – not just the cake I abused Levi into helping me bake the same night, no, an actual celebration.

And when Eren agreed to come with me to the last of Hitch’s annual parties – because they were so mainstream they got everybody’s attention, including college guys who showed up to pick up high school chicks – I might as well have been on cloud nine. After he gave me the green light, I spent the following week coaxing my parents into letting me go and begging Annie to join because it was our last chance of seeing the inside of Hitch Richards’s mansion and watching drunk people make a mess out of it. My hormones, paired with the typical mood swings of a female stuck in a month full of important dates, paired with the euphoria that Eren would be accompanying me to the party after a month and a half of ignoring me, paired with the delusions in my optimistic head were maybe the reason I didn’t want to make a big deal out of my strained relationship, boosting my patience and timidness to the point even Annie felt weird about it.

It was those same things too that almost made me blow up now when my boyfriend was telling me over the phone, a mere hour prior to the party, that he wouldn’t be able to show up. Because I’d been tolerant and naïve and I’d waited and I’d hoped and I’d gulped down my pride and planned on showing up at my arch-enemy’s doorstep with a six-pack of beer but, obviously, Eren Jaeger – the guy I’d always flaunted as the best boyfriend in the whole wide world – couldn’t do as much as put on a simple jacket and go on a date with his girlfriend after promising he would. That, even in my book, even in the book of somebody who was way more forgiving, was a dick move – not to mention a move Eren would never pull. Not on me and not on anybody. Because he always kept his promises and he was the perfect boyfriend and he was kind and---

It occurred to me that shit hadn’t only clogged my life, it was overflowing and spilling over my composure like it would over the tiles on a polished bathroom floor.

“Eren, do you know how much I had to beg to get permission for this? How long I had to convince Annie to come along?” Not that long once I’d pointed out there might be at least one handsome blond guy she could flirt with but that was beside the point. The point was the effort I’d put into this and the consideration he purposefully didn’t. “You know we both hate Hitch, you know I saved up money to buy beer to coax her into letting us in and you know I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks now and you’re telling me you won’t make it?” Maybe I sounded scary or maybe my senses were so on-edge I perceived the tense silence around the counter as me sounding scary. I would’ve thought the only unaffected person would be my father’s intern – that he’d be paying no attention to the drama unfolding and eating, but I couldn’t hear him doing it; maybe because I was so angry there was a constant buzzing in my ears.

“(Y/N), try to understand. I have something I need to do.” He sounded genuine and desperate but he also sounded deceitful and tired. It would be ironic if he actually got tired of his own excuses. This conversation had played time and time again this month – he no longer spared the effort to be creative, that he had to do shopping or repairs or he was exhausted or he was not in the mood or somebody had asked a favour of him or his father had punished him or his mother was sick or he’d asked Armin to cram together and forgotten. Now it was just this something he needed or had to do – it was where the itinerary began and ended. And I was tired of hearing it because whatever this something was – which might as well be imaginary – I’d come second to last to it for the past month and a half.

“I’m guessing it’s the same thing you had to do yesterday for our date at the cinema when I hung around for an hour before going home.” My father had watched me collapse at the counter after that one. “Or the one from last week when our food at the restaurant got cold.” I’d brought the leftovers home and shared them with my mother. “Maybe it’s the one from when you had to pick me up from Annie’s place and I ended up waiting for three hours and walking a mile to the bus stop in the downpour.” Levi was watching me – he’d made chicken soup and stuffed me with vitamins back then. “Oh, wait, I got it, it’s the one you had to do back at the beginning of the month when you told me to buy everything and wait for a call that never came.” I needed no defence – all examples, and a lot more, had happened ever since he’d decided to be aloof and mysterious. Keeping my pride above all, however, meant I didn’t allow myself to raise my voice – the nonchalant sarcasm would hurt more and it was pathetic to even think I was trying to hurt him.

“It’s not like that. I’m sorry about those times. I was busy.” His apology made me chuckle bitterly. This right here was a perfect example of what a rough patch in our relationship looked like – scarce communication and sides that either partook in hostility or unreasonable behaviour when communication at all occurred. During the past five years, there had only been two other such occasions – one directly caused by Hitch and another one that had resulted in a three-week break – as Annie liked referring to it – that was, of course, aided by my arch-enemy as well. This was the third rough patch in our time together so far and, judging by my tone and his lack of decent explanation, only the beginning of it.

“Never busy enough to tell me what exactly with.” My retort slipped out spitefully, slapping him across the face nice and slow, and making him huff. I could almost picture his guilty expression on the other end of the line, except my frustration blinded me to the point I could only see red. The timing of our relationship problems was truly spectacular this time around – I’d probably deal with them better if this wasn’t one of the most important months in my life. Graduation was a big milestone all in itself, not to mention the one occasion of educational success my parents would attend, but there was also prom to think of – not in the way that showing up without Eren would ruin my reputation, but rather in the way I didn’t want to put a damper on the party for myself because I hadn’t shown up with Eren. I needed him with me in case all that peer pressure for the prom queen and king contest paid off and I got nominated. I needed him with me to just drink punch and have fun, and cheer when Hitch didn’t win a crown.

“I know you’re upset, babe. Next time for sure.”

Beep, beep, beep.

I snapped back to reality when the end of the call was echoing beep after beep in my ear. He didn’t even spare the effort of promising to talk to me on Monday or texting me at any point. Well, I could see why he avoided saying it – because he wouldn’t need to, what with the graduation ceremony being next Wednesday and prom on Friday – we’d see each other on those so there was no need to, let’s say, spend time together inbetween. I swore to God when I was putting my phone down and gritting my teeth, I hated my life for a split second. He’d never once acted like such a jerk – the fact he hung up on me upset me way less than his attitude toward my concerns. He was treating everything like it was small and insignificant. Was I small and insignificant to him?

Sure you are. The mean voice in my head had tried not to intervene too much when it came to Eren because I could do all the work of making myself feel bad on my own. Today, for some reason, she was a straight-up asshole whilst summing up the situation. So, we’ve got a distant boyfriend, a party in less than an hour and prom-stress incoming. Won’t your period be coming along relatively soon, too? Oh, and you’ve got to apply for university when you get your diploma. Sounds like I’ll be keeping you lots of company. I could almost hear her laugh and then the stupidest thing in the world occurred to me. From now on, I name you asshole-me. Now shut up. The mental note was accompanied by my phone thumping against the counter as I put it down and glared at my food for a brief moment. Look, look, somebody’s pitying you.

My gaze snapped upwards, to where my parents were awkwardly clearing their throats while the intern sat across from me, holding his fork with his eyes glued to mine. My lips pursed and, if I were any more conceited, I might’ve thought now would be the perfect time for him to implement whatever evil plan he had of ruining my life had that been the whole point of his internship. I could fancy it was because he’d taken a break since the beginning of April – no harm whatsoever had befallen my social life, maybe because he could see the universe was doing a good job of handling it on her own. And like the only one who didn’t get queasy in the face of discomfort – mostly due to a lack of ability to understand social cues – Levi was alone in his quest of maintaining eye contact with me and clashing with the tense atmosphere I’d created head-on. He clashed with it long enough to see something was wrong. It was when his brow twitched that I might’ve realised I was biting back tears.

We’d established I was too proud to cry. I found no point in it. I’d been on the verge that one time at Eren’s place and he’d seen. Maybe that was why he knew how it looked. And for the sake of taking the humour out of this and exaggerating more than was normal for a regular story, I’d speculate the raven might as well have sprayed himself with onion essence back then. I knew he hadn’t and he knew he hadn’t. I hadn’t cried and that was good, but I wanted to cry sometimes and I felt he’d endorse it if I ever told him that. Even when he was a statue and an asshole, even when he wouldn’t care at all and he would fail at comforting me, I could picture him telling me to go ahead because he’d treat me all the same the next day. If somebody asked, I’d say that was the most tempting part but I was too proud for that, so I only shook my head like it would chase away the sadness and put on my best face whilst turning to my parents.

“Come on, people. The vegetables soaked up the tension. We can go back to eating. And what was that argument about taxpayers you last named?” My mother’s shoulders slouched at my light tone, then my father let out a sigh and went back to the capitalism lecture I’d interrupted. The intern kept watch of my gestures but there was nothing for him to see – I’d be having a deranged monologue about the situation after dinner was done and for now, I’d pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The clock struck ten when I finished washing the dishes, my parents retired to their bedroom to get their sleep and the intern had mysteriously disappeared without a trace right after the end of our meal – probably to brush his teeth because during the past two months I’d figured he couldn’t go a day without it. It was a good hygiene habit but also disturbing the lengths he’d go to in order to be in the bathroom at nine-thirty sharp to maintain his obsession.

The original plan for tonight had been for me to finish eating with the speed of light in order to be dressed and ready for Eren to pick me up from the house at nine. Then we’d catch the last bus for the night that would drop us off at Hitch’s mansion, find ourselves a stray college guy to go buy us a six-pack and we’d wait for Annie, who’d made a point of declaring she’d show up at ten-thirty sharp and not a second earlier. The moment I closed my bedroom door behind my back and plopped down on my bed, I unlocked my phone with the intention to text her not to get dressed, except Eren’s name at the top of my list of recent calls made my thoughts stray. All my previous pondering had led to the conclusion his behaviour was prompted by a secret he wished to keep from me. The goal of the current session of let’s-overanalyse-and-overthink was to classify and dissect the possible identities of the secret. Thankfully for the process and unfortunately for my poor heart, asshole-me (yes, I was implementing it as soon as humanly possible) was the main instigator of the thoughts.

Maybe he lost feelings, you know? She piped, making me snort. He couldn’t have lost feelings when he proposed to me two months ago. Boys can lose feelings and lie about it. Like losing a boner – in a blink. My nose scrunched up and I tried to shake the thought off, then she laughed. On the topic of boner, what if it’s because he can’t bone you? I gaped in offence and slammed my phone down on the mattress in outrage. There were just two months till my eighteenth birthday came along. And what if it’s just two months? You think a man's monkey brain registers that as a short period of time? Be realistic, sex and video games would’ve been your boyfriend’s whole pastime, if you had sex to begin with. Maybe so. But he wasn’t that superficial. Maybe he did have sex. Doesn’t it sound just a bit plausible – he cheats and stops talking to you out of guilt? Not at all – the mere thought of that, stated in such a sly voice made my stomach flip unpleasantly.

Oh, man, that means you two can’t be virgins together anymore. She was weaving a monologue of her own and I was arguing with a glare at the ceiling, persistent and loyal to my beliefs that my boyfriend wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t cheat on me. Ever. Period. And then asshole-me chimed in again, innocently and ever so condescendingly. Why wouldn’t he? Curiosity. Attraction. Got tired of waiting. Yes, fine, there were sound reasons but they wouldn’t be enough to make Eren do it. He’d reassured me one too many times he didn’t need it if we could be together and he’d promised over and over again that he was perfectly fine with waiting. Promises don’t mean shit – you think somebody’s that loyal? If you never learn it’s like it hasn’t happened anyway. All the signs are there – distant, vague, ignorant, secretive. She was blowing chinks in my defences and my head hurt. It was either that or he wanted me to hate his guts, which was entirely impossible and unreasonable either way. Asshole-me had a point. It was shit to admit it. I know, right? Doesn’t that make you feel bad?

“No!” I exclaimed in the empty room, grabbing the sides of my pillow and pressing them against my ears in a useless attempt to block out her nasty voice. She was chuckling and I was groaning. Overthinking was never a good idea and it never would be. Kind of unfortunate that I just had to be one of my default settings. I was kicking my feet into the air and staring at the ceiling, thinking of what I could to do distract myself from the thoughts when it occurred to me I still hadn’t texted Annie. And just as I propped myself up to grab my phone and shine a bright light on my pitiful expression, I caught a silhouette in my balcony door. “Holy crap!” The silhouette knocked on the glass and I jumped to my feet, about to run to my parents and raise the whole house to its feet when the trespassing creep called my nickname. “What the…” I opened the door and a gust of chilly wind hit me in the face as I stared at the intern’s statue-like frown.

“Get dressed.” He was leaning against the railing like he would’ve been leaning against the doorframe had he simply come in through the thing literally everybody else used. I was squinting at him in disbelief and confusion, echoing his command and making him click his tongue. “Yes, princess, get dressed. For the party you begged your father to go to.” He explained annoyedly, making me blink at him like he’d told me to get undressed instead. On the topic of that, this was probably the first time I’d seen him wear red – he’d rolled up the sleeves and the first three buttons were undone. To die for but I was not exactly in the mood to compliment his choice of outfit.

“First of all, what the fuck?” I reprimanded with a scowl, making him snort. “Second, why didn’t you just knock on my door like a normal person?” I was counting on my fingers and he was rolling his eyes like he’d expected it to happen. “Third, you’re out of your mind if you think I’m going after Eren blew me off. Fourth, my father allowed it only if I left by bus by nine-thirty.” I put my hands to my hips and was about to shoo him back to his room – this time through the door seven feet behind us – when he pushed past me and took a seat on my bed. My brows furrowed at his audacity when he spoke.

“First, it’s almost ten-thirty which is why I had to sneak around.” Duh, but I didn’t see how that explicitly meant jumping from his balcony to mine when he could tip-toe to my room. “Second, you shouldn’t miss the party just because your boyfriend isn’t going.” He had a point but my hormonal mind refused to agree too quickly, which was why I only waited for him to lay the entirety of his case out for me to consider. “Third, we can catch a cab. Fourth, stop wasting time and let’s go.” I glared but he was right to an extent – going to the party would be the perfect way to take my mind off the problems I’d probably be overthinking half the night. There was, of course, the problem of leaving the house and returning without alerting my parents. Also the hour and the fact Hitch could turn us away because she hated me enough to not let me in even though I’d shown up with a hot guy and a bribe.

“And how exactly do we leave the house without waking up my mother? You know at this point she’s a light sleeper.” I argued stubbornly, making him snort before urging me to just get dressed. Supposedly, he had it all figured out. Not to mention, I hadn’t texted Annie to call it off – it was too late for that now anyway. She’d just have to wait for us. If I made excuses to myself in order to agree, I actually wanted to go. “Fine, but if we get into trouble, you’re responsible.” He kept silent and stoic as I squinted at him with the last of my obstinacy and headed to my wardrobe with a sigh right after. “Would this make you want to bang me?” I fished a tight (f/c) corset-like top from the pile of almost forgotten summer clothes and held it up for him to observe. I hadn’t expected much of a reaction – thankfully, because he gave less than the bare minimum.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’ll make a college scumbag want to bang you.” His gaze averted and I huffed, muttering it was better than nothing at all before crouching in search of the skinny jeans I had in mind to pair with the top. And since he was still sitting on my bed looking like a snack, I suggested he hopped along while I got dressed. “Do I look like I can jump from balcony to balcony all night long?” I whipped back to face him – he countered my frown with a stubborn glare, then, seeing as neither of us would buckle, I took a random shirt from the pile in my disorganised wardrobe and tossed it at his perfectly styled hair with an order for him to cover his eyes and turn around if he’d be staying. He, in the driest of humour, tied it like a blindfold around his head and stayed quiet while I changed – just his presence made the process times quicker.

Usually, I’d be skipping around the house in just my underwear or my jeans, looking for my mascara or wanting to steal my mother’s blowdryer – this time around it took me less than a minute to put everything on. Oh, the efficiency of an embarrassed hormonal female with a mean voice chanting in her head. I wouldn’t live it down if he saw my bra for the fourth time in two months – asshole-me wanted to pin in on my latent wish to actually show it to him, which was not at all true. I armed my earlobes with silver hoops and my feet – that Levi just had to poke fun at for supposedly being stinky when he knew very well they weren’t after I stuck them near his face just to see him flinch in disgust – with a pair of black high heels. It was a suitable choice because we would be taking a taxi, not a bus. And then, of course, I could swear the intern had lost his mind because he expected us to jump to his balcony and Rapunzel our way down to the ground but with a handmade rope instead of hair.

“You’re kidding me.” I was barefoot, standing on the thick railing of my balcony and watching him next to me. “We can crack our heads like melons.” He didn’t even spare a second to sarcastically compliment the comparison. This was some weird role reversal – because it would’ve usually been me unintentionally dragging him into paranoid espionage bullshit like this. Of course, a little jump never hurt nobody – except we could probably make sneaking out through the door work. Then he jumped and my eyes widened in fright even after he’d landed. He beckoned me over and the first thing I did was toss my heels at him. “If I break my head, the hospital fee will dig you six feet under, asshole.” I glared and he was putting my shoes down whilst reassuring boredly he’d be there to catch me. Catch me, my ass. I wouldn’t need him to catch me. I could make the jump on my own. Maybe he knew his condescending consideration would make me spiteful enough to go along with it.

“Not so scary.” I’d lunged forward and my feet had left the railing before coming to rest on his. My balance wasn’t lost but, a second later, I figured it was because his fingers had wrapped steadily around my forearms. They were tingling and his palm was on my waist as I hopped down from the railing and watched him securely tie the rope he’d made out of cloths to it. And to my comment on how he was sure it wouldn’t come undone or rip as we were going down, he gave a snort. “Because I’ve done this before. A lot.” I watched him work in stupefied silence for the next few seconds and my mind couldn’t for the life of it believe he’d done dumb shit like this before. When I exited my shock, I made sure to ask how many of those times had landed him in the hospital. “None. Because I didn’t want to go. Come on, princess, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy this.” His retort made me glare half-heartedly as he tugged on the rope to make sure it was secure.

Next thing I knew, he was on the outer side of the railing, holding the rope and making my eyes widen as I reached to grab him when he faked falling. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards when he mocked my hissed “I hate you”. And when he was going down the rope and I was leaning over the railing, watching him wave me down, I dropped my heels with a scoff and pouted when he caught them effortlessly. Yeah, well, we were only on the second floor. Did I enjoy this needless thrill of sneaking out like a maiden from Victorian times instead of just tiptoeing through the front door? Sure, I did. I doubted I’d ever done something this uselessly extra – and since he was well acquainted with my penchant for drama, he was smug about it when my bare feet thumped in the grass next to him. I was putting on the heels and he was calling a cab, then we snuck out the backyard and over the hedge we shared with our neighbours. He bought the beer with my money and the taxi was waiting for us.

“We leave at three.” I spared him a passing stink eye whilst texting Annie. Leaving at three left us just enough time to get tipsy. Maybe I’d figure a way to make him stay longer if we happened to actually begin having fun. But I’d leave that plan for later, I concluded as our knees bumped together. The taxi driver often glimpsed us in the rearview mirror, most likely looking for an excuse to elongate our trip and increase his pay, but the streets were relatively deserted at this hour and he couldn’t will a traffic jam into existence when we were headed to the outskirts. “Leonheardt?” The Neanderthal-like question made me huff before I explained she’d just gotten there and I’d told her to wait up before getting in. He looked out the window and didn’t speak for the remainder of our five-minute ride safe for questioning the mansion’s location and having me lecture him on the layout of the town.

Because we had the “rich” neighbourhood I lived in, the “middle-class” neighbourhood Annie lived in, the “poor” neighbourhood Armin and Mikasa lived in and the centre of the city with its few main streets extending into different directions – towards the community college, the shopping district, the park and the mall. Then we had the “rich” outskirts, where we were currently headed and the “poor” outskirts where the airport was. It was the simplest way I could describe it, which almost got me thinking about my higher education but I pushed the thought down when the cab pulled up on the smooth alley leading to the Richards mansion. Annie was waiting for us, crossed arms inside her leather jacket with her blonde hair in a bun and her phone in her hand. She instantly shook her head upon seeing Levi.

“Jaeger couldn’t come, could he?” I popped an expressive “nope” and she shot back an eloquent: “Dick.” It made me chuckle and we were walking down the alley, watching the mansion in the distance. I knew it would sound ironic but fuck rich people and their long alleys. In the past, the misconception that I also lived in a mansion like Hitch had been quite regular because she constantly went out of her way to point it out. In “normal” people’s minds, rich kids were all the same but, newsflash, I came from a household of let’s-bust-our-asses-for-our-money and she came from old money. Different circumstances, different parents, different incomes, different trauma. She had two cars and no driver’s license. I considered myself superior in that aspect – even if she often teased my dear little Audi. “I ring, you shove the beer at her, Ackerman charm the fuck out of her.” My best friend stated once we were at the doorstep, making Levi and I exchange looks as I clutched the six-pack tighter in anticipation.

The only advantage of being this rich and isolated was the lack of neighbours – which was exactly why the music inside was blasting loud enough for me to think just one ring of the doorbell wouldn’t do the job. Except, less than ten seconds later, the thick door opened and light poured out into our poor unaccustomed eyes. Annie squinted, Levi was a statue and I cringed away, then Hitch’s face showed in the doorstep and I thought we were doomed for a second. Then I realised, by the swaying and the oblivious smile on her lips, that she was so drunk she could barely register who she was letting in. Levi snatched the beer from my grasp and our host’s clueless smile turned into a grin – why, yes, a hot guy providing you with alcohol would make anybody grin. Ignoring all and every courtesy possible, Hitch stepped aside and slurred a lame pick-up line at the raven, who let us pass first and was, as a result, cornered at the door by the fair-haired drunk menace.

Annie and I were giggling at his stoic attempts to brush her off but whereas my blond best friend enjoyed the sight of his misery, I was busy snickering at my arch-enemy’s intoxicated state. It didn’t take me long to realise everybody else matched it perfectly –with no exception whatsoever. Hitch was clinging to the intern’s upper arm for support when he closed the thick door of the mansion behind himself, then I waved him over to where Annie was pushing her way through the dancing crowd into where we speculated might’ve been the kitchen. The raven joined us and I could hear Hitch whining when the music and a passing college guy caught her attention instead. The insides of the mansion were spacious but the crowd was still overwhelming. The lobby by the second-floor giant staircase was full of smokers – the living room we visited next was the dancing floor, the pool table in the corner was where the stoners gathered, the couches in the far end were where the childish spin the bottle and truth or dare games occurred and the giant kitchen was almost deserted.

We thoroughly inspected the different areas before settling on the desolate one. Annie and I were busy discussing the pros and cons of each space in hushes voices right into each other’s ears and my father’s intern was at all times two feet behind us – a lag caused directly by the fact each step he took was accompanied by a drunk girl who ambushed him with her affections. It was astounding watching him swat them away like annoying flies, then we reached our destination. And now, with lots of pride and the noblest of envy, I wished to declare I would kill for such a kitchen. Not a drop of alcohol but I was running circles around the place, caressing the counters and inspecting the automatic cupboards and the first-class technology, not to mention the ornaments in the bar’s design. I knew I was fangirling over a kitchen, Annie knew I was fangirling over a kitchen and even the trio of girls gossiping and handing around a half-empty bottle of whiskey by the fridge knew I was fangirling over a kitchen.

“I’m thinking this would feel like fun if I get drunk.” Annie’s comment made me snort as I spotted a pizza box on the counter. I went to get it and had just lifted it off the polished surface when the sudden presence of a couple making out made me jump back in startlement. The boy had just lifted the girl onto the counter and I almost got a heart attack at the prospect of having been late to remove the pizza from under her. Annie was huddled next to the bar with the pretty design when I hopped on top of it and watched her open the box in my hands. Our eyes turned into little sizzling flames at the sight of the barely touched pepperoni pizza inside. “Is this a good idea without Jaeger?” The music was just a bit muffled in this corner of the mansion – my best friend and I were stuffing our faces and Levi was watching us with a scrunched-up nose when I waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“It’s perfectly fine. True, I haven’t been to a party without him until now but, hey, it’s as you said, Ann – this will feel like fun if we get drunk.” I shrugged with a smile, receiving one and the same suspicious side-eye from both her and the intern. Maybe in some telepathic way, they established this was a bad idea. For the next hour, we shared the six-pack we’d brought along and the whiskey the gossiping trio gave us before leaving for the dance floor. I felt, around the time we were finishing the second six-pack of beer Annie had found in the fridge, that maybe I needed to move around a little in order not to become entirely lethargic. It was thirty minutes past midnight when Annie was stolen away by a blond guy she was tipsy enough to not vocally compare to our Psychology teacher. It was right about then I bolted upright and stated as the ebony-haired intern next to me was staring at his beer, that I’d go dance. And then I was off.

It was ironic how walking proved to be harder than it should’ve been as I wobbled amongst the sweaty bodies in the crowd and narrowed my eyes at the table ahead – I was set on exploring and efficiently drunk and swaying when a handsome guy caught my eye; obviously, I caught his too because he helped me onto the table and handed me a glass of vodka as a gift. Gone were the times of chivalry and flowers – but this was enough for now. The music was loud and I couldn’t dance – I knew how but my body was incapable of being graceful. The guy grinding into me and trying to flirt over the pulsating bass didn’t seem to mind that because he was beyond wasted. I was here to have fun and I was having fun. I was sure I could walk and think properly, although most likely not simultaneously. I didn’t know how much time had passed when a guy in the dancing crowd (Eren?) caught my attention and made my shoulders tense. The alcohol was giving my energy a boost (kind of a contradiction with how the chemicals inside ruled it should’ve been) but it would also wear off if I didn’t drink more. This might’ve been my limit. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t have Eren or Annie warning me to stop. So I gestured for the girls next to me, who’d brought a bottle of vodka along for a dance partner, to give me some of it. The glass was in my hold, the handsome guy’s fingers were on my waist and I chugged some of the transparent contents of the bottle before giving it back. The crowd was blurry and my vision was like a cradle, rocking from side to side. I couldn’t see Annie or Levi anywhere. I got the urge to learn the time. Then the urge to do a flip when I knew very well I couldn’t. Then the urge to smooch somebody. Preferably my boyfriend. But he might hate me now. Then I got the urge to cry.

“Princess, get down. Your legs are so wobbly it hurts to watch.” I knew the voice and the voice knew me. It was almost like I was seeing him for the first time – except this time I was the one looking down at him. He was frowning in the same manner. Glaring the same, too. The blue specks were trying to scold me but the room was too gloomy for that. Pretty. I found myself almost smiling in my daze, then snapping once having processed his words, much like the first time around.

“I’m perfectly fine, asshole. Don’t tell me what to---“ It would’ve been a proud comeback if my heel hadn’t slipped on a puddle of what I thought was beer. I shut my eyes when sharp pain pierced my ankle and braced myself for the fall but the landing was way softer than anticipated. When my lids fluttered open, I was staring at Levi’s face. Handsome features. His hair was messy and I caught the sight of a silver chain around his neck when my stomach performed a somersault. “… I’m going to puke.” He was making his way through the crowd and I almost thought we were teleporting because we were suddenly in the lobby and he was scolding me for insulting him even when I was drunk. I only shook my head frantically when the cigarette smoke fogging up the place made my stomach do another flip. “No, I’m---“ I took a deep breath and felt it crawling up my throat. “I’m seriously going to vomit.”

The smoke made things worse, along with the smell of sweat, along with the loud music. I put a hand to my mouth when Levi asked the closest guy for directions to a bathroom. He was carrying me up the stairs to the second floor and I would’ve told him to put me down because I could walk… if I could open my mouth at all that was. And I couldn’t, because the pizza and the non-processed alcohol would take it as a green light to go out and party on their own. Being held bridal style by Levi would’ve been nice if it wasn’t for the circumstances requiring it. I could barely process the happening – all I knew was, at some point that was a bit too late for comfort, his arms were laying me on the floor right next to a toilet. I was almost too proud to puke in front of him but that happened, too, the exact second I opened my mouth to order him to wait outside. My throat stung, I was sweating and my stomach was lurching its contents into the toilet bowl.

The taste was terrible and the stench was terrible and the fact my eyes were watery was terrible but it was done at some point and I was too tired to move away from the toilet, leaning on it with both hands and my head on top of them. Levi had been holding my hair away from my face the whole time – now his fingers were just gently combing through it, maybe in an attempt to calm me down. I couldn’t know for sure. I just knew I felt humiliated enough to not be able to look him in the eye, even when he got up to give me toilet paper to wipe my mouth, even when he flushed the repulsive contents of the toilet, even when he gave me some mouthwash he’d found by the sink. I was letting out incoherent whines and he was (“Come on, princess, just a bit. Just to get the taste out.”) taking care of me, and he’d probably done this before, too. He helped me stand – I could bet I wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. My head was dizzy and my vision was blurry and I brushed my teeth four consecutive times with a brush we made sure was brand new. After that, with considerable protests from me, the raven made me sit on the bathroom floor next to him so I could rest. My fingers were shaking when I tied my hair and he lent me his shoulder for support but I settled for thumping my head against the wall instead. We talked for a bit (“How are you feeling?” “Terrible and embarrassed.” “I’ve seen worse. And you had too much to drink.”) before it turned into tired bickering (“… I want more.” “It won’t fix your relationship.” “It will mask my breath so I can make out with somebody.” “You shouldn’t.” “That’s what I came here.” “Not a single douchebag will limit himself to making out.”) which then escalated into me standing up with a scoff and stumbling. He caught me and gave me a knowing glare, then I huffed. Maybe I couldn’t walk or think properly. Not at the same time, no. If so, I had to do them one at a time.

“Good. I can finally get that stupid virginity out of the way.” He instantly shot back we should be heading back to the house and when I paused my thinking to walk out and join the party downstairs, his fingers seized my wrist and tugged. “This has nothing to do with you, asshole. I can have sex with whoever I want.” I raised the index finger of my free hand in the air and slurred the whole sentence so badly even the seriousness of my tone couldn’t possibly compensate. He was still and silent, and he almost looked disturbed. I had two outtakes I wouldn’t share with him during the pregnant pause he made: first, I was too drunk to be funny, coherent or possess a working conscience and second, from the ten he was daily, he’d currently turned to a full-on two hundred.

“It has a lot to do with me because I promised I’d take responsibility for this. I can’t bring you back home hungover and not a fucking virgin anymore.” He raised his voice a bit and my ears felt like they were cringing – maybe I was cringing, too. I yanked my wrist from his hold and stepped back, exclaiming I’d just tell my father it wasn’t his fault. This argument was useless. Levi was right. I was wasted enough to trample all over my morals and that wasn’t like me at all. He was just trying to keep me from making a mistake. “Can you hear yourself? You're not making any sense! Why the fuck would you want to have sex---"

“Because I want to! Because Eren is probably like this because of that! Because I’m a stupid fucking virgin! Because I wanna with you! And--- I don’t know what I’m doing.” Maybe the common sense won in the end. Maybe it did. My speech was incoherent and I wanted to cry again. I was proud and spoiled and my boyfriend was ignoring me and my father’s intern was hot and our truce was going well, so why would I want to ruin it like this right now? He was looking at me so calmly one might have thought I hadn’t just told him in a rather roundabout way I’d wanted to perform coitus with him. And when he stepped toward me with a sigh, my instinct was to step back. My weak ankle gave out and I tumbled back, gritting my teeth at the pain – it was worse than that time I’d broken my leg on Christmas Eve because of George.

My ass hit the floor and my head was about to hit the side of the bed outside the door, except the landing there was softer than expected – again. He’d saved my ass from a cracked skull, again. I hated him for that. My knees were curled against my chest and pressed into his. His forearm was supporting the back of my head and his other hand was on my other side – he’d used it to stop himself from falling into me. My eyes were wide and I could feel his breath on my face. Handsome. So fucking handsome I hated him for that, too. I was spitefully staring into his eyes when the blue specks told me to count. And I was too drunk to refuse. So we began from one and messed up at nineteen, and my head hurt. So fucking handsome. Naturally, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t jeopardise everything by blurting out something dumb. And I hated him – a lot, so why the fuck…

“… kiss me.” We didn’t have to pretend to be engaged. I hated him. He probably hated me, too, with how much we pestered each other on the daily. I was spiteful when we didn’t bicker. I couldn’t ignore him. I was a hypocrite. I was dumb. I’d promised this wouldn’t happen ever again. I was ruining the sliver of friendship that had been born during the past two months. Asshole-me was laughing, the thoughts were rushing around in my head, then I blinked and suddenly, he was sitting up, shaking his head and telling me to go home. “No.” I sat up across from him and he took a defensive stance, looking as though he could bolt out the door any second now. “I don’t want to go home. I want you to kiss me.” Because I hated him, because he was handsome, because I couldn’t care less, because I didn’t want to think about Eren, because I was crazy and drunk and I made no sense and this made no sense and he’d refuse and I’d wake up and forget and be thankful.

“You sound like a spoiled princess.” His gaze was averted and I would notice in it embarrassment if I were sober. But I was drunk, which made me stubborn instead. There would be no seduction here – there would be persistence. My retort (“It’s the nickname you gave me. Let me live up to it.”) made his lips purse. He wasn’t looking at me. My ankle hurt. My common sense was gone. I hated him. I couldn’t care either way. “You have a boyfriend.” Funny how he was the one using it on me. Usually, I’d be the one saying it if anybody tried coming onto me. But I could barely hear him and I could barely hear myself arguing once more that I didn’t have a boyfriend, I had a boy who didn’t care about me. “He cares.” Levi countered stubbornly, making me sneer at him.

“Is that why he makes me want to cry? Why he ignores me, avoids me, lies to me?” A derisive smile stood on my lips and the raven clicked his tongue, stubbornly avoiding eye contact whilst reminding me the point was this would be wrong. “We’re young and I want to try new stuff. You stopped me downstairs. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re being overprotective, asshole.” His jaw flexed when he gritted his teeth and quickly stated I was drunk and couldn’t think straight. I could correct him I was thinking quite straight, otherwise, I’d be asking a girl to kiss me. I hated him for being this obstinate. I hated him for tolerating me. I hated him for trying to be argumentative. I hated him for being reasonable and logical. I hated him. “Please. Just a kiss.” I was dizzy and he was handsome and he caught my wrist when I reached for him, meeting my gaze when I tried to lean in. “Please.” Maybe this was wrong. Maybe I wouldn’t remember it. Maybe I was cheating just with my stupid intentions. God, I hated him.

And then, against the laws of Physics and the universe, a miracle occurred. He buckled. My mind was wiped blank. His lips were soft. Fuck, they were so soft. There was a hand on my waist, a hand at the back of my neck. So soft. Again, again, again, not just one, more. Feverish pecks turned into longer, slower kisses. My fingers were shaking when they touched his jaw and blindly found their way into his hair. Everything about him was so soft, so pretty, so… nice. Everything was so nice. I almost moaned when his tongue was included in the mix. I didn’t know exactly when he’d lifted me up but when my back rested against the mattress and he was muttering that this was wrong, I couldn’t talk. My chest was heaving and everything was blurry and nice, then he was kissing down my neck and I could feel my eyes rolling to the back of my head at the sensation.

Our shirts were off at some point. He was like a fucking furnace despite the fact he acted cold all the time. The lines of definition along his torso make me gawk, he was telling me he didn’t want to have sex because that would be taking advantage of me or something of the sort, and I was nodding along, nodding along and looking and touching and I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the most fascinated I’d ever been with somebody’s body. The room was dark but his eyes were glistening and his hands were on my side, fingers touching along its length and making me shiver. Everything was foggy and blurry but he was soft and his lips were soft when I pulled him down for another kiss. It might’ve been the fog or it might’ve been that I’d been spacing out too much but I didn’t know how long we spent in that room – some moments were punctuated by me asking him (“Am I pretty? At least a little?” “You’re fucking beautiful.” “Is that why you’re not rejecting me?” “No, I… believe it or not, I care about you, princess.”) dumb questions and him giving answers from the crook of my neck, where he’d been kissing. He might’ve put effort into saying the right thing. He might’ve spoken his mind. He might’ve lied. I’d like to think he hadn’t been lying but I wouldn’t remember either way. At some point, I pushed at his chest and wobbled over to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet and staring at the tiles across from me was a surreal experience – it was also when I realised the adrenaline of making out had been all that kept me awake. So when I returned to the room and watched Levi lie on the bed, half-naked and bored, it occurred to me the moment was done for. He suggested we left, I countered with a “no” prior to sitting down next to him and complaining I was too tired right now.

“If I let you rest, do you promise you won’t fall asleep?” I swore it on my mother’s debut art piece and he was glaring. We both knew I was lying. Still, he made space for me to lie down. Before that, I took off my jeans and snatched his shirt from the ground, weakly muttering the justification it felt more like a pyjama. My head hit the pillow, I was thinking of checking up on Annie, then the raven spoke. “Don’t freak about this tomorrow.” The warning made me snort and I could hear myself argue, in a mumble, that I would forget it because I’d drunk too much. Maybe it was asshole-me taking the reigns or maybe I just wanted to avoid the emotional complexity of this situation for the time being, but then I told him to try and forget about it, too. It had been nothing. And if we both forgot about it, we’d proceed as per usual with our truce. I could feel he wanted to say something. He didn’t.

I was snuggling the pillow and he was next to me – a living furnace with a perfect body I’d just made out with. I could try and freak out about it right now. But I was too tired for that, too close to the haze, too self-conscious in the back of my mind, too relieved by the fact asshole-me was probably drunk, too and tucked into a cage in some corner of my mind. She’d kept silent. I’d keep silent. I couldn’t allow myself to process this now. Not just because I wouldn’t be able to do it properly (which was part of the reason, of course, because drunk people never made any sense) but because it might ruin the few weeks to come – and I already had one boy indirectly putting me down with his behaviour. I didn’t need a second one to freak out about.

Even if I was at fault for everything. I hated him because he humoured me, because he was kind sometimes, because he’d become something like a friend to me, because I could confide in him, because he lectured me on philosophical topics, because he was always in the bathroom when I needed it, because he’d needed three weeks to make my parents love him, because he was diligent, because he had no manners, because he knocked on my door to wake me up every day, because he didn’t care at all but he could be kind. But he was warm and soft, and I didn’t mind his presence, and we might’ve been friends, and I trusted him. My eyes almost shot open in the gloom. I trusted him. My shoulders tensed in realisation, then, to distract myself from the uncomfortable truth, I reached over and put a hand to his abs – if only to let the hormones take the lead for a little while. And when he slapped my hand away with a curt “don’t”, I only pouted.

“What – so you got me a six-pack yet I’m not allowed to touch yours?” The snarky retort made him click his tongue. I kept my arms away and turned my back to him in latent spite. I hated him but I almost couldn’t when he put the thin blanket over me. And then, just like that, I broke my promise and fell asleep. I wouldn’t remember this tomorrow but it was fine. It would be for the best if I forgot. Because I was drunk and dumb and because it would make things harder. Something about cheating was swirling round in my brain. My feet were cold. The party downstairs was muffled and the bass from the music accompanied me in my hazy dreams.

Something about a duck. Something about bananas. Something about my boyfriend’s teal eyes. Something about this and that, and Annie playing baseball. Something about Levi falling into a giant beer mug. Something about adventures. Maybe dreams meant something or maybe they meant nothing. All Google would say was that getting chased meant fear – in my dream, I was getting chased by an evil twin of mine, dressed exactly the same as I’d been for this party. Maybe that meant something. Maybe asshole-me would say it meant being haunted for the rest of the year by this one mistake I’d made right here in this room with my father’s intern who I no longer referred to using his title. But I couldn’t remember the dream either, so she didn’t. I couldn’t say whether that was for the best or not. Not anymore.

tag list: @unloved-cadillac

#mtij #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk x reader #reader insert #the plot thickens #also the old version was such cringe lol #i was essentially writing fanservice for myself but now... it's quality for u (and me)#levi being fucking dumb and soft - i headcanon this #eren... doesn't seem like best boi no more but he is to me

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