#[ but barely anyone cared and everything would be dropped after one or two responses ]

[obxsummer]

leave me again ii // rafe cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x routledge!reader (she/her), ex!jj maybank x reader

summary: you left the cut with nowhere to go. it’s rafe cameron that finds you and shows you the life you deserved to live

warnings: sorry jj lovers, that man does not get our girl back so sad jj and probably ooc rafe but i love it when that man is soft

navigation || part one

--

Six months.

It had been six months since any of the Pogues had seen you. No social media, no sight of you around town, no letters. Nothing.

The past six months left you to do a lot of reevaluations. You’d walked aimlessly after the group had left for the dive with nothing but your backpack and phone, no destination in mind. Until you found one.

“Lost or something?”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” Your response was instant as you continued to walk without sparing him a look. The car shifted into a different gear, you guessed by the noise, before Rafe was hopping out to approach you.

“Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he moved in closer and grabbed your shoulder before turning you to face him. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You stared at him with the knowledge that you probably looked like a mess with the tear streaks across your cheeks. While Rafe had a lot of issues with your friends and brother, he usually stayed clear of you. Whether that was because you were close with Sarah, or what, you didn't know.

Twisting your fingers together, you dropped your gaze as tears started to build again. “You ever watch someone you love choose someone else over you, every single time?”

The question felt like a punch in the gut to Rafe. He had. His whole life he watched his dad choose Sarah. Watched his mom choose another family over him. Watched Wheezie choose another sibling over him.

“Get in, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

Six months ago, you hopped in Rafe Cameron’s Range Rover and left The Cut behind. You didn’t question the decision, knowing you’d worry about everyone else before taking care of yourself, and that clearly didn’t work in the past. You felt horribly guilty about leaving John B with no indication whether you were okay or not, but you knew if one of them found out, JJ would be busting down the door to Rafe’s bedroom before you had a chance to say no. 

While you weren’t sure what the original intentions had been, Rafe was so different with you after bringing you back to his new house. One he’d bought after selling Tannyhill, free from the haunting of his father and the screams that echoed off the walls, he had turned it into a safe space for himself and anyone he invited in.

Things blossomed quickly and you realized the Rafe in front of you was not the bully, coke-head addict you’d once known. He was such a gentle person, and so much more attentive to you than JJ had ever been. Whether it was making you breakfast in bed before you left for the day, or prepping a warm (actually warm, like hot water you’d hadn’t had in forever) candle lit bath, or popping an expensive bottle of wine just for you to taste, he was there in ways nobody had been. You were his girl, his only girl, and you never once had to question that.

Rafe had even invited you to sit in on his investment meetings and he was slowly pulling your name into his business so you’d have a professional background to grow into. You were steadily becoming an educated little couple in his home, something he was so proud and grateful for. He had someone to lean on for advice and give him fresh eyes on new projects with no judgment or fear of anger. The two of you soaked up your bubble of peace for as long as you could before shit hit the fan. 

Little did you know, on the other side of the island with your brother, there had been absolutely no peace. John B and JJ barely spoke, everything ending in an argument when they did. Pope was sick of playing mediator, and Kie had more of less shut down out of guilt. Sarah was still searching for you, but you’d gone ghost. Cleo was treading lightly with the knowledge that everything would explode eventually. 

So, they did what they could, and dove into treasure hunting. When JJ pulled the amulet out of his pocket in the back of the Twinkie, John B’s emotions were mixed. Sure, he was stoked that he’d found the object the group was looking for, but he wished you were here. It was your birthday, and John B was inches away from losing his shit without you.

“Dude, are you okay?” Pope asked as the group stood in the office area of the house, trying to find more information on the amulet’s inscription.

John B tossed the heavy object on the desk in frustration. “No, I’m not okay! We can find decades old treasure like it’s the easiest thing ever, but we can’t find jack shit about my sister? That’s bullshit, Pope. And you know it.”

Pope knew things would be sensitive today. Even JJ woke up grouchy, which John B told him was deserved since he caused your absence in the first place. The lack of your presence weighed heavy on the group, so Pope suggested going to visit one of your favorite beach spots. 

Little did he know what he was getting himself into.

--

“Rafe!” The house was filled with your laughter as Rafe twirled you in the kitchen lighting, your favorite song playing from the interactive speaker on the counter. The two of you had spent the day together, visiting the country club for lunch before Rafe took you shopping for something to wear tonight.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme love on you, it’s your birthday” He mumbled as he pressed soft kisses into your neck, hands squeezing your hips teasingly. The soft fabric of the dress he’d picked out covered your frame, the color matching your skin perfectly. 

You hummed in content, fingers holding his biceps tightly as if your knees would give out any second. “You loved on me a lot this morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Rafe’s thumb traced your bottom lip before he kissed you softly. “You make it so easy.”

The two of you got lost in each other for a few more moments, soaking up the quiet as the orange sunset started casting through the windows. Today had been the best day you’d had in so long and you were so grateful of Rafe for giving you so much patience and love.

It had taken time for you to adjust to this kind of life. You walked in here with three outfits to your name, a busted cell phone, and a stuffed animal John B won you at the town festival as kids. And Rafe embraced every bit of it, let you keep your Pogue pieces while building you a life around it that was filled with items you needed but would never ask for, all while loving you so gently.

You climbed out of his car (technically the one he’d bought you but you refused to acknowledge that), and stepped down into the soft sand below. This was your spot, the spot you came to whenever you needed to clear your head or take a moment alone. You’d shared it with Rafe shortly after everything changed, and now, it was a shared spot that you both considered special.

Rafe moved around the car to grab your hand and guide you toward the area he had organized for the two of you. A small white table had been set up with your favorite snacks and two glasses of wine, surrounded by the fluffiest blanket and pillows you’d seen. 

“Did you do this?” You squeezed his hand tighter, tears in your eyes at how sweet and thoughtful the gesture was. Your jaw dropped as the two of you walked closer; everything was thought out down to the tiny forks you loved so much being there to pick up the appetizers. 

“Course I did, baby.” Rafe kissed your temple softly and grabbed one of the glasses to hand to you before taking hold of his own. You clinked your glass against his, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply in appreciation.

And then everything went to shit.

“What the fuck?”

Rafe’s hand tightened against your lower back, both of you looking over to see the handful of figures standing a few feet away. Your heart went to your throat went you made eye contact with your brother, whose hand was wrapped in Sarah’s. JJ stood behind him along with Kiara, Pope, and Cleo, all of them looking at you expectantly.

“Shit,” You whispered and took a step back from Rafe, eyes meeting his in dread. His expression had hardened at the sight of JJ, all the anger rushing back when he thought about how you’d been treated in the relationship, how unfair everything had been. You clocked the frustration in his gaze and placed your fingers on his cheek to redirect his focus back to you. “Don’t. I’ll handle it.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked but he didn’t argue as you slipped your wine glass back into his hand and left his side to approach the group standing in front of you. You weren’t even worried about JJ or Kie, you were worried about John B more than anything.

“Hi,” The greeting was so quiet you almost didn’t hear yourself. How do you talk to people you disappeared on six months ago?

John B’s only response was to pull you into the tightest hug he had ever given. You stumbled with the force of his body colliding with you before regaining your balance and returning the embrace. 

“You’re okay,” He repeated the words to himself as if convincing his mind that they were true before stepping back and holding your cheeks in his hands. The smile on his face was huge, and you were so so confused. “Holy shit.”

“Hi,” You laughed quietly, placing your hands on top of his. “I’m so sorry.”

John B shook his head, his thumb brushing the random tear from your cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I told you to take a break, yeah? And you did.”

You glanced back to where Rafe was surprisingly conversing with Sarah with no anger in sight. The pit in your stomach slowly disappeared as you took them in and turned your attention back to John B. “I um… there’s a lot to catch you up on, and I want to tell you. I wanna tell you all of it, JB, but-”

“And I wanna hear it,” He reassured softly. “But someone put a lot of effort into your night and I don’t wanna steal any of it.”

You were so goddamn grateful for your brother. Pulling John B into another hug, you spared the look over his shoulder to see Kiara stomping away from the beach. You tried to keep a smirk off your face but it definitely made its way through. 

Stepping back from John B, you shared hugs with Cleo and Pope, promising that you would see them soon before you were face to face with the reason you made it here in the first place. JJ looked rough. His hair was chaotic, arms thinner than you remembered, and he just looked tired.

“I don’t want your apology,” You spoke as he opened his mouth. “And it looks like you have a girlfriend to go find anyway.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” JJ replied quickly as he stared at you. “Not anymore.”

You pulled your lips in and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you around, JJ.”

He reached a hand out toward you when you moved to walk away. You paused just out of his reach and looked back. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

You nodded. “I know. I should be thanking you actually, because if you had said it back to me that day, I wouldn’t have found something so much better.”

And with that, you walked away from JJ and the empty promises he had always given, walked away straight into the arms of someone who would give you the world and more, if you just so much as asked.

--

navigation 

[sgt-tombstone]

Call signs weren’t supposed to be flattering. More often than not, they were the direct result of some embarrassing fuck-up that trailed a soldier for the rest of their life. They were voted on by the first platoon that a soldier joined, usually within the first few months, and they then spent the next few months cringing every time they heard it. Simon’s first platoon had seen a recruit land the call sign “Seagull” after a drunken dare to nick a fry from their captain’s tray in the mess hall, and he had personally bestowed the call sign “Dash” upon a soldier who had somehow managed to clip himself in the leg with his own bullet. Dumb Ass Shot Himself…

The embarrassment wore off, though. When one was stuck with a name for the rest of their lives, they learned to live with it sooner rather than later. The associated stories either got buried deep or drunkenly flaunted; the stupider the better. The funny ones became a point of pride and the truly humiliating ones eventually settled into something sort of like mundanity. Amusing tales became nothing more than yet another name, a stitched moniker, an email signature. The point was: by the time they made it to the special forces, and especially once they were assigned to a task force, no one gave a shit about their call signs anymore.

Whenever Soap heard his call sign, whenever anyone asked after its origins, he laughed it off, citing his ability to clean house or, more flirtatiously, his ability to clean up after himself, but he always internally cringed.

No one ever noticed. No one except for Ghost.

He never said anything, never asked about it, which Johnny was thankful for, but he was infinitely more thankful that Ghost took every opportunity to call him literally anything else. Sergeant, at first, then Johnny. MacTavish, if he was mad; any other combination of insults if he wasn't, because they both knew he never really meant them. Sunshine, sometimes, in the mornings when Soap stumbled out of bed in whatever safe house they were staying in, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Scottish Bastard, or Our Johnny, or Pyromaniac, or Lad. Rarely Soap.

It was in his file, Johnny knew, the file that Ghost had read cover to cover, too paranoid to blindly trust Price's judgment with a new team member. Evidently, he hadn't made the connection between the incident report nestled in the sheaves of paper and Johnny's embarrassment. More likely, he just didn't care. Johnny wasn't sure which option he preferred.

Johnny had always had an issue with authority, and joining the military had done nothing to quell his rebellious streak; he was still a teenager, fresh out of basic, barely legal, the first time it happened. His sergeant had been giving him eyes for the entire two months since he'd joined, and Johnny'd be lying if he said he hadn't pushed himself just a little harder in response to the attention. The night of graduation found Johnny in the sergeant's bed, taking everything he was given and begging for more.

He hadn't seen that sergeant again after that, but it had more to do with Johnny's SAS training than anything else, and it started a bad habit. Nearly every unit he joined, he eventually ended up in his superior's bed. It was all consensual, and Johnny would be willing to attest to it if need be, but he never got caught, and he moved from unit to unit so often that it never really mattered.

Until it did.

Two years out of basic, about halfway through his SAS training, he got caught. Rather, they got caught. They were in the showers, his lieutenant pressing him against the tile wall, when their captain had walked in. The implications were clear, especially with Johnny on the receiving end, and the lieutenant had gotten discharged, despite Johnny's protestations. It had been his idea, but it still looked like an abuse of power. Word had flown around the base, and Johnny had gotten stuck with the call sign Soap as a terrible joke; "don't drop the soap" was uttered nearly every time he entered a room, and he ended up being the youngest to pass selection largely to get away from the teasing.

Once he joined the SAS, he never saw anyone involved in the incident ever again. The incident report went in his file, but it got buried among the accolades, the outstanding test results, the exceptional service record. No one except his superior officers had the clearance to read his file, which was for the best; their knowledge of his bad habit kept him from indulging, and he hadn't looked at another superior officer the same way since.

Until Ghost. Who called him Johnny, not Soap. Who tolerated and even encouraged his flirting. Who knew every detail of his file but never pushed for more.

Whenever Johnny got too close to a line, Ghost would switch back to Soap, just once, just enough to nudge him back a step, but he was never cruel. It was a slap on the wrist, not a sharp reprimand, and Johnny had learned enough about Ghost's tone and eyes to see the switch for what it was: a gentle warning, a clearly expressed boundary.

And then one of their missions went to shit, and Johnny ended up in the hospital for months, and Ghost stopped calling him Soap altogether. In the aftermath, Johnny danced closer and closer, always expecting his cautionary call sign to fall from Ghost's lips, but it never did. On and off the field, Ghost simply watched Johnny get closer, stopped holding him at arm's length. He started welcoming his flirting, started actively encouraging him, started reciprocating.

The first time they fell into bed together, something panicked fluttered in Johnny's chest. He'd been here before; he'd gotten a lieutenant wrongfully dishonorably discharged before, for nothing more than the very act that he and Ghost had been dancing around for years. The moment before their lips met, he backpedaled sharply, only to be caught by the rigid warmth of Ghost's arms.

Ghost knew. Ghost knew his past, knew his record, knew what he'd been walking into. Ghost didn't care.

Price knew. Price knew his past, knew his penchant for gravitating towards authority, and still had placed him within Ghost's grasp time and time again. Price didn't care.

And Gaz... well, Gaz was Johnny's biggest enabler. Gaz didn't care.

So he let himself take the final step, the leap of faith, and landed safely in Ghost's hold, in Ghost's bed, and in Ghost's life. Loved, satisfied, and most importantly, protected. Safe.

And if he started wearing his call sign like a badge of honor for the first time in his life... well, he was sleeping with a superior officer, and he wasn't ashamed of it anymore. Whenever Ghost looked at him, reverent, bordering on worshipful, Soap couldn't find it within himself to feel a single ounce of embarrassment over his name.

[jellyfishrnice]

Yandere! Rich suitor idea

Hear me out-

The rich suitor that your parents have in mind for you to marry once you turn 30, the guy who's parents your parents are best friends and how they've been imagining their offspring getting married for decades! And how you absolutely can't stand your unofficial fiance!

Of course, he couldn't stand you either. All your lives grown up together with both your parents insinuating that you two will carry on their names. Each year you two would be sent off to some exotic vacation (your parents loosely supervising) and each year you both failed to hold a conversation without fighting. The pressure was always too much for you, you hated the idea of being tied down to some guy only your parents liked. And no matter how beautiful the boy was, he simply wasn't your type. He was too pretty, too spoiled, too prissy with his blonde hair tied in a ponytail and his stupid eyebrow piercing that made no sense considering his personality.

The guy you were supposed to marry felt the same, he couldn't understand what his parents saw in you. You were too wild, he couldn't imagine trying to carry on a family with how you barely even wanted to do school work. He didn't even consider ugly just so... Weird! With your weird, odd sense of fashion and refusal to think about your future , you were definitely not his type. You two hated each other.

Until the summer you two turned 21. The yearly vacation y'all took started off like any other. With both you dreading the sight of each other. But that changed very quickly once he saw you. This was the first year you two were alone, and maybe it was the fresh alcohol in your systems or the soft lights in whatever high class restaurant you were in, something clicked in your suitor's brain.

Turns out a year (or a couple) can really change the way you see someone. Whether he knew or not he started to admire the way you refused to comply with the strict set of rules set by the high class society you two lived in, and how you didn't care what anyone else thought of your peculiar way of self expression. It was admirable he had to admit.

And the night you two shared an accidental drunken kiss, it made the hair on his arms stand up, it made his face flush red(which he blamed on the liquor), and it made his heart pound in a way he never thought possible.

Every bone chilling reaction was forced out of him and it made his skin light on fire. After that night, he only wanted more to come out of your relationship.

But, the attraction was simply one sided.

You still only saw the same prissy boy. He still refused to look at things from more than one perspective, he still poked fun at your style of clothes, he still refused to say thank you to whatever person who was serving him!

He was everything you hated all wrapped up in one ball of a man.

And when he dropped the idea of getting married the next morning while you were still recovering from your hangover, you almost vomited.

-

"Ew! What the fuck are you talking about?!" You yelled while almost dropping the mug you had in your hand. The guy was just insulting you yesterday like he always does and now he's talking about marriage?

"You act as though marrying me is the worst thing possible." Andrew sighed while sipping on a glass of orange juice. He looked out the nearby window onto the private beach of the resort while leaning on the nearby wall. It didn't show but your response clearly hurt him just a bit.

"'Cuz it is." You groaned in frustration while sitting down on the living room couch. The guy you hate proposing is definitely not helping with your pounding headache.

You took a sip out of the mug of coffee and tried to rub away the ache from your temples. Why now of all times to propose? You two had at least 5 more years of freedom before yours and his parents would put their foot down and set a date for you two to sign the wedding papers.

"I mean- why not now? Its be better sooner than later, it would be like ripping off a bandaid-"

"Hell no." You sighed and set down your mug on the coffee table next to you and dropped your head onto a pillow. How were you going to deal with this?

"Anyway," you paused trying to gather your words, "don't you hate me? Why would you want to tie the knot so soon? I mean, you're an attractive guy right? Why don't you try out other options before having to-"

"I don't want other options."

You lifted your head and stared at Andrew for a second. The pink dusting his fair cheeks and avoidance of eye contact was all you needed to know.

You looked away from his face and stared at the wall behind him. Your head hurts even more than when you had woken up.

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"I said I'm leaving." You hauled yourself off the couch and into your room. You could hear Andrews faint footsteps and even more of his questions but ignored it. You packed your backpack, only the necessities and a small bag of seashells. You were getting on the next plane and heading back home. Or wherever you could land first.

You were not staying here. You refused to marry. Not yet at least.

But as you try and open the door to leave, a large hand slams it shut before you can completely open it.

"Andrew. What the hell are you doing."

"You are not leaving." Andrew says while placing his other hand against the door, caging you.

You never realized how muscular Andrew was before this moment.

"Yes, I am. Now let go of the door-"

"No." He says in a much firmer tone.

It dawns on you that you're on a private beach with no one to hear you yell for help. You see one of his hands leave the door and for a second you think he's come back to his senses and stopped whatever crazy shit he was thinking- but instead he snaked his hand around your waist and lays his forehead on your shoulder.

"You're not leaving."

-

HEHEHEHE JUST A THOUGHT THOOO

Not proof read forgive me 😔

[mephisto-reporting]

Dinner’s Ready

About: After a long and exhausting day filled with chores and responsibilities, the reader finds unexpected comfort and support from someone unexpected Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are not in a relationship yet but there is an implied mutual attraction.

SYLUS

The day had dragged on, pulling at every ounce of your patience. The Hunters Association had been relentless—meetings, reports, more meetings. You had barely had time to breathe, let alone grab lunch. As much as you wanted to collapse into bed the moment you got home, you knew that wasn’t in the cards tonight. The dishes were piling up, the laundry was overdue, and you still needed to make dinner. Ugh, just the thought made your head spin.

You’d spoken to Sylus earlier in the day, venting about how chaotic everything had been. He’d listened, as he always did, his smooth voice teasing you about biting off more than you could chew. But you hadn’t expected him to really care; Sylus wasn’t the type to coddle, especially not when he knew you could handle yourself.

Yet, as you stopped by the grocery store to grab ingredients, you couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to have just one thing go your way today. Maybe a nice bowl of pho, something warm and comforting. But making it from scratch? Hell, no. That was not on your agenda for the foreseeable future.

You sighed heavily, picking up the essentials and thinking about the mountain of laundry waiting for you back at the apartment. "Today... I just can't catch a break," you mumbled to yourself, rubbing at your temple as you mentally ticked off your endless to-do list. Would it ever end?

As you rounded the corner to your building, your breath hitched in surprise. Standing casually near the entrance to your apartment complex, leaning against the wall with a faint smirk on his face, was none other than Sylus. His black coat billowed slightly in the evening breeze, and he looked every bit as confident and composed as always. But what surprised you even more was the sight of a bag in his hand, and the fact that he was here, yet again unannounced.

"Sylus? What are you doing here?" you asked, blinking as you approached him.

He pushed off the wall with that lazy grace of his, his smirk widening ever so slightly. "I was in the area, sweetie." he said smoothly, examining his finger nails. "Thought I’d drop by."

You frowned, not entirely convinced. Sylus didn’t just drop by without a reason. Your eyes flickered to the bag in his hand, curiosity bubbling to the surface as you unlocked the door and motioned for him to come inside.

Once inside, you barely had time to put your groceries down before Sylus moved toward the kitchen counter, setting his own bag down. His movements were confident, efficient, as if he’d been here a hundred times before.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said, watching as he pulled out two bowls, your curiosity growing. “What’s with the bag?”

He glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Just thought you could use a break. Take a seat." he instructed, his voice a little softer than usual.

Too tired to argue, you did as he said, sinking into a chair as he deftly unpacked the contents of the bag. To your utter shock, he began plating two steaming bowls of pho—from your favorite restaurant. The broth, the noodles, the garnishes—it was all there, and it looked perfect.

"How did you know…?" you murmured, eyeing the bowl in disbelief. You hadn’t told anyone about your pho craving.

Sylus glanced at you, a knowing glint in his eye as he placed the bowl in front of you. "Mephisto noticed you were... less than pleasant all day," he said casually. "Figured this would make things better."

Your gaze flicked to the sleek black crow perched on the window, and back to him, your lips parting in surprise. He’d actually noticed. More than that, he’d cared. And in his own subtle, roundabout way, Sylus had made sure to do something about it.

Your tired muscles seemed to relax all at once as you let out a sigh, a genuine smile tugging at your lips for the first time that day. “You have no idea how much better this makes things,” you murmured, feeling the exhaustion from the day begin to melt away. "You didn’t have to do this," you said softly, meeting his gaze. He always went out of his way when it came to you and you often felt guilty for you thought you did not have enough to offer him anything in return. It wasn’t often that Sylus went out of his way for others—his world was one of deals, power, and survival, not tenderness or comfort. But here he was. For you.

Sylus chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, I think I do,” He grabbed his own bowl sliding into one of your kitchen chairs with that same self-assured ease."But... you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Thought I’d step in before you ran yourself into the ground."

You raised an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping you. "Oh, and this has nothing to do with you wanting to keep your favorite hunter functional?"

"Maybe…" His eyes held yours for a moment longer before he dug in, motioning to the table. "Now eat before it gets cold."

The two of you sat down, and for a few moments, there was a comfortable silence between you as you savored the meal. The pho was perfect, the warmth of the broth soothing the ache that had settled into your bones. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed this moment of peace.

As you glanced over at Sylus, his usual sharp edges seemed softer somehow. Maybe it was the dim light in the apartment, or the fact that he had gone out of his way to do something kind, something just for you.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice soft, almost shy, as you broke the silence. “This… it really does help.”

Sylus looked at you, his gaze unreadable for a beat before he leaned back in his chair, that familiar smirk playing at his lips again. "I told you, I have my ways."

But beneath the teasing, there was something more in his expression—something that made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t need words to know that he had noticed you in a way others hadn’t, that he saw the little things, the cracks in your armor.

As you finished the meal, the exhaustion you’d carried all day seemed to lift, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the pho. Sylus’s presence, for all his cryptic remarks and unreadable expressions, made you feel... cared for.

Noticing your lingering gaze, Sylus leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied smirk. “I do have my moments of brilliance.”

“More like rare moments,” you teased, a playful spark lighting your eyes.

He chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “I’ll take that as a compliment, kitten. Now, how about we make a habit of this? You can complain about your hectic days, and I’ll bring the pho.”

The warmth between you deepened, the air thick with unspoken feelings and a comforting ease that felt like home. You smiled, savoring not just the delicious meal but the presence of the man beside you. “Deal.”

RAFAYEL

The day had been an absolute disaster. From the moment you woke up, everything felt like it was falling apart—meetings running late, a mountain of reports piling up, and to top it all off, your bike was in the shop for repairs. Taking the train had been a nightmare, delays at every station and a sea of people crammed together. You had been venting to Rafayel all day, pouring out your frustration in messages about the chaos and exhaustion of adulthood. He responded with his usual playful sarcasm, offering snarky comments that somehow managed to make you smile, even on a day like this.

Why does everything have to be so hard? you thought as you finally stepped off the train and made your way out of the station. As you finally exited the station, the cool evening air greeted you, a temporary reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the train. Just as you were about to lose yourself in another mental rant about your never-ending to-do list, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey, Miss Bodyguard,” Rafayel's teasing voice cut through the air, his tone playful as always. You looked up, startled but undeniably pleased to see him leaning casually against a nearby wall, a smirk on his lips.

“You stalking me now?” you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite your exhaustion.

He shrugged, falling into step beside you as you began the walk home. “I wouldn’t call it stalking, especially when you keep giving me live updates about your day. ” he said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint you’d come to know so well. “You’ve been complaining about your day since noon. Thought I'd check if you survived.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Barely. The train was a nightmare, I’m behind on reports, and now I still have to cook dinner. This day won’t end.”

As the two of you walked, you found yourself venting aloud, unloading all the frustrations of the day onto him. Rafayel listened, his gaze soft yet amused, occasionally tossing in a remark or two that made you laugh despite yourself. He had this way of making even the worst days feel lighter. Once you reached home, you plopped on the couch, continuing your tirade on the pointless meetings instead of actually fighting wanderers.  “Seriously, how does anyone manage all this without completely losing it?” you groaned. “Work, reports, cooking, laundry—it’s never-ending! And now I’ve that I am home, I have to make dinner, and tackle those stupid reports…”

Just as you were about to complain more about your overwhelming workload, the doorbell rang.

"Who's that?" you muttered, confused.

Before you could get up, Rafayel waved a hand dismissively. “I got it. Stay where you are."

You gave him a suspicious look, knowing how he could be, but you let him go anyway. He strolled to the door with that infuriating confidence of his, moving like he owned the place.

A minute later, he returned with a package in hand, his expression smug.

“What did you order?” you asked, still perplexed.

He raised an eyebrow. “Who said it was your package?”

Your confusion deepened, but before you could question him further, Rafayel placed the box on the counter and opened it, revealing two neatly packed containers of chicken alfredo. Your jaw dropped as you stared at the food, your tired brain trying to make sense of what was happening.

“You…” you began, words failing you.

Rafayel glanced over his shoulder, catching your stunned expression with an amused grin. “What? You think I didn’t hear you complaining about adulting all day?”

Without waiting for a response, he plated the pasta, his movements surprisingly smooth and graceful as he brought two steaming plates to the table. He set one in front of you, then sat down across from you, his smirk softening just a fraction. “Figured I’d save you the trouble. You’ve been whining about it so much that even the turtles have heard it all the way across the ocean.”

You stared at the plate in disbelief. His company had already started to ease the tension in your shoulders, but this? This gesture—so thoughtful, so uncharacteristically sweet—had your heart fluttering.

“Raf…” you began, but he waved a hand, dismissing your attempt at gratitude.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” he quipped, though the hint of tenderness in his eyes betrayed him. “I needed to eat too, you know! And who knew how long it would take for you to whip something up? Just eat...”

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth filling your chest as you took a bite of the creamy pasta. The taste was perfect—rich, comforting, exactly what you needed after a day like this. And though he was trying to act like it was no big deal, you could tell this was his way of looking out for you.

“Thanks,” you said softly, catching his gaze.

Rafayel leaned back in his chair, the smirk returning full force. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get used to it.”

But you could tell—despite the teasing, despite the banter—that he was glad he could make your day a little better. Maybe adulting wasn’t so bad when you had Rafayel by your side…

ZAYNE

As Zayne finished his usual check-up on you, his hands gentle but firm as they performed the routine exam, you couldn’t help but let out a long, tired sigh. It had been a day. Patrolling the city, fighting off wanderers, and then filing reports had left you drained, and the thought of having to go home and make dinner was the last thing you wanted to deal with.

Zayne noticed immediately, his sharp eyes studying you with that calm, steady gaze of his. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with the kind of precision that came naturally to him as a doctor.

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Nothing serious. Just... thinking about my day.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but even you could feel how thin it was. “ But it is over now, so that is something to think about, hehe.. ”

He didn’t press you, which you were grateful for. Zayne had always been like that—understanding, patient, and perceptive. Even when you didn’t tell him how you were feeling, he always seemed to just know.

As you gathered your things and prepared to head out, Zayne cleared his throat. “My shift’s over. How about I drop you off at home?”

Surprised, you turned to face him, and for a moment, you considered saying no, but the truth was—it had been a while since you and Zayne had spent any time together outside of these clinical settings. You nodded, grateful for the company. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The drive was peaceful, the hum of the car and the cool night air lulling you into a more relaxed state. Zayne wasn’t one for unnecessary chatter, which you appreciated. His presence alone was enough to take the edge off your exhaustion.

Without warning, he slowed the car and pulled into the parking lot of a familiar spot—your favorite hot pot restaurant. You blinked, confused but intrigued.

“Hot pot?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zayne gave a small, knowing smile. “It’ll save us both from having to cook,” he explained, always the practical one. “And on nights like these, something warm and hearty is good for the body. Better circulation, helps relax the muscles after a long day. Plus, it’s my treat since I dragged you here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at how effortlessly he slipped into his medical reasoning, but more than that, you felt your heart warm at the gesture. You hadn’t even vented to him about how drained you were, yet somehow, Zayne had picked up on it and brought you exactly where you needed to be. It was almost too perfect. That was just how he was—quietly thoughtful, always tuned in to what would make your day a little better.

“That’s pretty thoughtful of you,” you said, unable to hide the warmth in your tone. “I could definitely use some hot pot. You know me too well.” You eagerly unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car.

“I do,” he replied, his smile soft yet confident as the two of you walked into the cozy restaurant. The warmth of the place immediately surrounded you, and it felt like the perfect escape from the long, tiring day.

As you settled into a booth, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have Zayne in your life—someone who understood you without needing you to explain everything. As the two of you were seated inside, ordering your favorite dishes and letting the rich, fragrant broth bubble between you, the conversation flowed easily. Zayne’s calm demeanor was a balm to your tired mind, and his subtle teasing made you laugh more than once.

As the hot pot simmered in front of you, Zayne casually brought up another idea. “There’s a cake shop close to your place. I was thinking we could swing by after. I’ve been meaning to get something sweet.” His love for desserts was well known, and you could already picture the way his eyes would light up at the prospect of picking out his favorite cake.

The suggestion made you smile wider than you had all day. “I’d love that.”

There was something unspoken lingering between you. But in moments like these, with Zayne looking at you with that easy smile and making your long day just a little bit brighter, you could feel it. And you were more than happy to bask in it, even if just for tonight. As you walked out of the restaurant side by side, the chill in the air wasn’t so bad anymore.

XAVIER

You collapsed onto the couch with a long, tired groan, your face buried in a pillow. The mission had been grueling, and now that you were back home, a mountain of chores awaited you—dinner to make, the house to clean, bills to pay. It felt like there was no end in sight, like you couldn’t catch a single break.

For a moment, you let yourself wallow in the exhaustion, silently trying to gather enough mental energy to tackle everything. Maybe if you just lay here long enough, the universe would cut you some slack.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang, cutting through your thoughts. You blinked, sitting up slowly. Who could that be right now?

Dragging yourself to the door, you opened it, and standing there was Xavier, his usual easygoing smile softening the weariness that had taken hold of you.

“Hey, mind if I come in?” he asked, his voice low and gentle. You didn’t even need to reply because he lifted his hand, showing you a takeout bag. The familiar logo of your favorite burger joint was printed on it.

Your heart did a little flip, the tension from the day starting to melt away. “Xavier...”

“I figured you had a long day,” he said, stepping inside once you nodded, his tone casual but warm. “Heard from the others that it was pretty rough. And while I can’t promise anything gourmet, I figured burgers, fries, and churros were safe bets. Oh, and drinks too. No cooking necessary.”

The way he effortlessly made you feel seen without even needing to ask, it was just so him. He had this way of knowing exactly what you needed without making a big deal out of it, like he was always quietly observing, thinking of ways to help without making a fuss.

“Thank you,” you murmured, genuinely touched. “This is exactly what I needed.”

As you led him into the living room, Xavier wasted no time setting up the food on your coffee table, all casual like he’d done this a hundred times before. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as he passed you a drink and a burger. It was so thoughtful, so simple yet perfect.

While you ate, the tension from earlier spilled out. “I’ve got so much to do still,” you admitted, venting to him between bites. “The house is a mess, I have to pay the bills, and the trash is piling up. I just... I don’t even know where to start.”

Xavier leaned back against the couch, his eyes focused on you but in that soft, reassuring way he always had. “Why not start tomorrow?” he suggested, his tone light but confident, as if the solution was obvious. “I’ll take the trash out when I leave. The rest? You can handle it later. No point in burning yourself out tonight.”

He stretched an arm casually over the back of the couch, settling in with that relaxed vibe he always carried, but there was a quiet depth in his words. He wasn’t one for grand gestures or dramatic speeches, but in his own way, he was telling you to take it easy, that he had your back.

“Besides,” he added, his lips quirking into a small grin, “I was thinking we could watch a movie. You know, unwind. You’ve earned it.”

You looked at him for a moment, feeling the weight of your day easing with every word. He didn’t push, didn’t force you to agree, but the offer was so tempting. With the food, the company, and the way he was so effortlessly making everything better, it felt like a much-needed lifeline.

“That sounds like a good idea,” you said, smiling softly as you leaned back beside him, the stress of your responsibilities finally taking a back seat. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing deep down you’d end up thanking him for this later.

The unspoken connection between you both lingered in the air, not something you needed to say out loud. It was there, in the way he knew just what you needed, in the comfortable silence that followed as the movie started. You didn’t need words to acknowledge it. It was simply... understood.

And as Xavier settled in next to you, you realized that tonight, the chores could wait. Right now, this was enough.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Helloo! Thought of a prompt, thought you could fulfil!

Stoic Hero doesn't like anyone knowing what they went through. Villain finds out anyway?

(So specific, Ikr?)

Most of the time, the villain tried not to act like a total idiot around the hero. It wasn't necessarily because they feared judgement. It was mostly the fact that despite all, they wanted to stay professional.

But looking back, this probably counted as idiotic behaviour.

"If you're mad at me, I can live with that," the villain said. Their eyes were on the hero in the hospital bed and slowly, it dawned on them that they themselves hadn't eaten in hours.

"You shouldn't be here," the hero croaked in response. With their black eye and their arm in a sling, they looked miserable enough to make the villain's stomach turn. Usually, the hero wasn't one to use many words and the villain had seldom actually argued with them but considering all circumstances, the villain was ready for a lecture.

Hospitals had always been a no on both sides. Identities being revealed and civilians getting involved was something both had agreed on to avoid.

But the villain had panicked. They had seen the blood and the broken bones. The hero hadn't responded.

Of course, they had called an ambulance. Of course, they had tried everything in their power to make sure the hero was alive.

"Honestly, if you're mad at me, that's fine. I understand. I just need you to know this wasn't on purpose. The medical staff isn't allowed to leak any personal information and nobody treated you any differently from other patients. It should be safe for you to be here."

The hero closed their eyes and leaned back against the mattress.

"Did anyone see you?"

"…I hid when the ambulance arrived. And then I showed up at the hospital and said we are dating.”

The hero let out a pathetic laugh.

It made the villain truly uncomfortable to see their nemesis like this. They barely moved, almost as if it was too painful to even lift a finger.

The exhaustion carved itself into the hero's face and their usually calm and perfect expression was similar to a tortured angel's.

The hero took in a deep breath.

"Why are you here?" they asked. Their voice was weak.

"I couldn't just...leave."

"Because we sleep with each other?"

The villain frowned. No, they didn't think it was because of that. If this had happened two months ago, they wouldn't have left either.

They wanted to take the hero's hand but they didn't find the courage.

"You've mentioned that a few times before and I'll say it again if you want me to: I don't care about you because you are good in bed. I care about you because I respect you and I think what you're doing is impressive."

"We are enemies," the hero reminded them.

"Enemies with benefits."

"You could have left after the ambulance arrived. You didn't have to stay and watch. You didn’t have to go to the hospital and say we are a couple," the hero argued and the villain came to the conclusion that the hero truly didn't comprehend how anyone could ever care about them.

It wasn't easy for the villain either; to accept that there was something between them, some unspoken thing that lingered in the air when they looked at each other.

Some horrible silent truth. Because, at the end, "I care about you because I respect you" was a horrible excuse for something that reached a little deeper.

Maybe that was also the reason as for why the villain was so satisfied after a night with the hero.

They couldn't imagine having someone else in their arms and if they were to find out that the hero had other lovers, the villain feared that would break them.

"It's okay that you are angry," the villain said. "I am just not sure if you are angry at me for staying or…?"

"No…no, I…I am not angry at you, it's just…I am scared of what we have." The hero's eyes found the villain's and to the villain's surprise, their serious hero let actual sadness go over their face. It looked like it didn't take much for their tears to drop.

The villain took their hand.

"What do you mean?"

"What if you use me?" the hero whispered. Their bottom lip was shaking. "What if this is a big act and you…you're trying to get information out of me or some day you will lock me up when I am asleep next to you and you will torture me and I will still love you and-"

"Listen, that is actually sick and cruel. I did do some questionable things in the past but nothing ever came close to that," the villain said. "Why would you even think I…?"

And then it dawned on the villain that it wasn't just a fear but a memory. Something the hero had experienced.

Why are you here? Because we sleep together?

The hero thought the only reason as for why the villain was here was because the villain didn't want to lose their fuck buddy.

Holy shit.

The villain could only guess what had happened to the hero in the past and how they'd been used by someone they had loved.

“Okay, please listen. I like what we have and…perhaps we could be more if you want to. I have never really been in a relationship before and I am too dumb to manipulate you. I…I don't really know what to say, I just…I am here. I am here because of you. I don't have any other motivation or desire right now. All I want is for you to be alright."

"I think I need time." They squeezed the villain's hand weakly.

"Take all the time you need," the villain said but they felt like throwing up after hearing all this.

They had thought the hero would curse them for bringing them to a hospital.

It turned out this was only the tip of the iceberg and the villain truly wasn't ready for the entire truth.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Okay, and thanks in advance if you write, I just liked the way you wrote it, that I wanted a continuation 👉👈

Yan!sonic and sloth!reader have a romantic (and mutually codependent) relationship, their friends (from Sonic's side) are happy for them, but they also notice that they spend an anxious amount of time with each other waiting for a couple, but seeing that reader and Sonic are happy with everything, friends have to accept all this, except for reader's only remaining friend, who somehow finds reader without Sonic, and tries to tell them that what is happening between the two is not normal, but reader does not care about this, they are not stupid, they know what is happening, and they even like what is happening, then Sonic finds them, and reader goes home, they do not ask where their friend went, and where Sonic was ... reader doesn't care

A/n: first continuation I've done on this blog, so I hope it's not like, contradicting first one.

Yandere!Sonic x Sloth!Reader

Your relationship with Sonic has become something of an anomaly, even to his closest friends. The way the two of you cling to each other, spending nearly every waking moment together, would raise eyebrows if it were anyone else. But for you and Sonic, it just works. He thrives off your dependency, and you find comfort in the way he takes control of everything, leaving you free to simply exist at your own pace.

Sonic’s friends, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, and the others, are happy for him in their own way.

They’ve noticed the sparkle in his eye when he talks about you, the softer way he moves around you, as if you’re something delicate and precious. It’s a side of Sonic they’ve never seen before, and for the most part, they chalk it up to love.

But even they can’t ignore how... intense it all seems.

Tails worries about how much time Sonic spends with you. He’s used to Sonic zipping around the world, barely able to sit still, but now Sonic’s entire schedule revolves around you. Tails once voiced his concern gently, only for Sonic to brush it off with a laugh.

Amy is over the moon that Sonic finally has someone, even if it isn’t her. She’s a hopeless romantic, so she chooses to see your relationship in the best light. "They’re just really close! Nothing wrong with that," she tells herself, though even she can’t ignore the way Sonic bristles whenever anyone suggests spending time with you alone.

Knuckles is the most suspicious. "Doesn’t it seem a little... off?" he mutters to Amy one day. But when Amy scolds him for being cynical, he drops it. After all, you don’t seem to be complaining, and Sonic looks genuinely happy.

Despite their reservations, none of them interfere. As long as you and Sonic are happy, who are they to judge?

Your own life, however, isn’t as free of judgment. You only have one friend left from your life before Sonic. A tenacious person who somehow manages to find you during one of the rare moments you’re without him.

You were at the park, sitting on a bench, when your friend approached you. They looked agitated, their words coming out in a rush.

"Y/n, I need to talk to you about Sonic," they said, glancing around nervously as if expecting him to appear out of nowhere.

You blinked at them slowly, taking a moment to process their words. "What about Sonic?" you asked, your voice calm, unbothered.

"This... this thing between you two,it’s not normal," they said. "He’s with you all the time, he’s isolating you, controlling you- don’t you see it?"

You tilted your head, their words sinking in but not quite hitting the way they expected. "I know," you said simply.

They froze. "You know?"

You gave them a small smile. "I’m not stupid. I know what’s happening. And I like it."

Your friend’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, struggling to find a response. "You like it?" they finally managed. "But this isn’t healthy. Relationships aren’t supposed to be like this!"

You shrugged. "I’m happy. Sonic knows what’s best for me. I trust him."

Before they could argue further, a familiar gust of wind blew past, and there he was, Sonic, standing with his arms crossed, his eyes sharp and locked onto your friend.

"Everything okay here?" He asked, his tone casual but his posture rigid.

Your friend paled, taking a step back. They looked at you one last time, desperation in their eyes, but you simply stood up and walked over to Sonic without a second thought.

"Let’s go home," you said softly, leaning into his side.

Sonic’s arm immediately wrapped around you, his eyes narrowing as he pulled you close. "Sure thing," he said, shooting a final glare at your friend before leading you away.

You didn’t ask where your friend went. You didn’t ask why Sonic had shown up when he did, or what might have happened while you weren’t looking.

You didn’t care.

As far as you were concerned, your friend was wrong. Your relationship with Sonic might not be normal, but it didn’t need to be. You trusted him, and he made you feel safe in a way no one else ever had.

Whatever Sonic did to keep you close, you didn’t need to know. All that mattered was that he was there, protecting you, guiding you, and making sure you never had to worry about a thing.

And Sonic? He couldn’t be happier. You were his, completely and utterly, and nothing, and no one, could ever change that.

[heartfullofleeches]

[Request] Reader caring for a sick Remmy [Dollmaker Yan Oc]

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.1k

-

“Remmy isn't home right now…. Please come back later.”

Could this day get any worse?... Weeks, months even, building up the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It wasn't like he asked you out on a date or anything, not yet anyway. He still needed to test the water a little longer, make sure the signals he had picked up from you weren't figments of his imagination. All that time, all those embarrassing hours spent in front of the mirror practicing what to say given any outcome - flushed down the drain in one night. 

Remmy could hardly open his eyes the morning you were intended to meet. You didn't even recognize him over the phone at first. In his heightened state of delirium from the fever racking his weary mind, he hoped the same would happen as you continuously rang his doorbell - demanding in the softest voice you could manage for him to open up.

As if he could be that lucky….

“And where, pray tell, would someone hacking up a lung over the phonean hour ago be right besides the hospital? It's not that far away. I can head over right now and check.” 

….

“Open this door right now, Remiel. You're not going to flake on me twice today.”

Did you have to phrase it like that? Kicking a sick person while he could barely stand was cruel - even if you did come to check up on him. 

“O…okay…. Remmy is- I'm going to unlock the door, just…give me a minute to clean up my room. I have some stuff out I really don't want anyone to see…”

The muffled shuffling of plastic splices between the click of the lock as Remmy unlocks the front door. 

“60.”

“Crap.” 

Hobbling away from the front door, Remmy clings to the hallway walls as he makes a break for his bedroom. The straight path twists and bends as his stress levels skyrocket from the very real fear of you finding out what he had stored. There wasn't enough time for him to hide everything. His top priority were the worst offenders - items he couldn't excuse as being a result of his relatively harmless hobby. Doll clothing fashioned after clothes you'd yet to wear for the public eye. Others you never owned and probably would never wear, unless they were for a partner or to make yourself feel good. Pictures of you hung up on his walls. So much to bury in such little time. 

“They can't see that…That one either. God, they'd kill me if they saw-”

“Saw what?” 

A hoarse yelp claws its way out of Remmy's aching throat. Standing in his doorway, you balance two separate bags in your arms - awaiting his response. Remmy hurriedly pulls the corners of his blankets over the space beneath his bed. 

“I…threw up a bit ago. Guess I'm feeling worse than I thought when we spoke over the phone.” 

In the blink of an eye you're by his side. Remmy flinches as you press the back of your palm against his forehead.

“Oh, Rem….” Concern oozes from your words as you set your bags down, taking hold of his arm. You're burning up. Come on. Let's get you back in bed.”

“You don't have to go through all this for me, Y/n. Really, I'm-” His sentence falls short as you scoop him off the floor, sitting him up on his bed. Were you always this strong - or had he always been this easy to carry? In that moment, Remmy felt just like one of his dolls. His head spins at the very thought. You take the opportunity to gently ease him down against the mattress, rolling the discarded sheets up to his waist. You pick up the plastic bags, setting them on the small table in the center of his room as you rummage through them.

“Got some chicken soup from this dinner down the street. If you can't keep anything down, maybe the broth will be a good place to state. Oh!- picked up some ginger ale too. That might help with your stomach too. Cough drops, cough medicine…. Do you prefer liquid or pills?” 

Remmy turns his head away from you as he coughs into his fist. “...whichever…whichever you brought is fine.”

“Well,I actually bought both, but I can just return the other on my way home later. I'll go grab you a cup real quick.”

Heading for the door, Remmy’s meek voice calls out to you - barely about a whisper. “Y/n?”

Hand on the doorframe, you gaze over your shoulder at him. “What's up? Need something else while I'm in the kitchen?”

“No…” Remmy shakes his head, the pressure of a headache hammering at his skull. “Agh… Remmy… I just wanted to thank you…for this. You really didn't have to come over…” 

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “Don't think I did this for nothing. Gotta make sure you're well enough for our date next weekend. The park is nice and all, but that's where we always go. I expect to be taken somewhere else for our first date.”

“Date?” He couldn't have heard you right. But, you said it - twice. You disappear down the hall before he can properly question you. Was this all a dream? The conjurings of his ill mind as the sickness took hold? This felt better than anything he could imagine- Your hushed voice as you reenter the room confirms it. You wiggle your arm behind his head, helping him sit back up just enough to place the cup to his lips without him choking while swallowing. A part of him wished this was a dream. One that he'd never wake up from if he had the choice. Another dream come true was waiting for him once he got better.

“Remmy?...Rem?”

Soda spills onto your hand as the weight of his head crashes upon your shoulder. Did he…. fall asleep? Just like that? You hadn't even given him his medicine yet. At least the sleep will be good for him. You should probably go put everything else you brought up to pass the time until he wakes up. 

“Mmm…”

Remmy’s face scrunches in discomfort as you part from his side, lowering his head onto the pillows as you stand. Your foot touches something soft beneath his bed. You reach a hand underneath - completely forgetting about his earlier warnings as your fingers wrap around the squishy item. A doll with instantly identifying features stares back up at you as you drag it from its prison. Funny - you don't remember wearing this shirt around Remmy. You only bought it a few days ago. You planned to wear it today before he told you the bad news.

Shrugging, you raise Remmy's arm - tucking the doll against his chest. His face melts into that of peaceful bliss, body curling around the doll as his other hand strokes its face as if on auto-pilot. You press a kiss to his forehead - shutting off the lights in his room as you depart for a second time.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Threads of Desire: A Christmas to Remember - Chapter 1

Summary: After dreaming of becoming a big time fashion designer, Y/N finds herself miserable working under her best friend Maggie Greene after being in her shadow for years. Maggie has everything that she ever wanted. The job she always longed for and she's dating the man of her dreams, Negan Smith. Christmas time is said to be the most magical time of the year. Will she finally escape Maggie's shadow and get everything she ever wanted or will she realize that life may have been perfect all along with her loyal friend Daryl Dixon at her side?

Characters: (in chapter 1) Negan Smith, the reader (OC), Maggie Greene, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61111030/chapters/156141661

Warnings: Alternate universe, swearing, angst, third person reader, female reader, reader wants to be a fashion designer, New York City is where they live, Maggie is kind of a bitch in this (sorry Maggie fans), dad Negan, Christmas Themed, etc.

Notes: This Christmas story is going to be a little different than my past ones. The two main love interests in this story are Negan and Daryl. This might draw some Neggie shippers and I do want to warn you while Negan and Maggie are together in this, their relationship isn't the healthiest. I want to put that out there ahead of time. Plus, Maggie isn't the nicest of people in this story. Pre-warning.

Y/N as always meaning your name or whatever name you want to put in for this story! Thanks for checking it out! I will try to update this as often as possible on days that I don't post Love's Second Chance.

Most people strive to have the job of their dreams. A job where you could go and a full days’ worth of work would feel like nothing because you loved what you were doing that much. That was supposed to be the case for Y/N. After going to school for years to be a fashion designer, this was promised to be the job that she had always dreamt about. That’s at least what her best friend Maggie had promised her when she took the job. Maggie and Y/N had gone to school together. Even though the two of them were very different, they seemed to make good friends. At least that’s what Y/N tried to tell herself all the time. A lot of people had actually questioned how Y/N continued to have a friendship with Maggie because others viewed it as a one-sided friendship. People claimed Maggie was self-centered and selfish where Y/N would do absolutely anything for her, but it wouldn’t go both ways.

Of course Y/N would always defend Maggie. Suggesting that people didn’t know Maggie like she did. And she always used this job for example as to why Maggie was a good friend. There was often a few key details that she would leave out. That was because she knew that if she told anyone about it, they would insist Y/N drop her as a friend immediately. The problem was? During their college years together, Y/N had grown incredibly close to Maggie’s family. During those years, Maggie’s father had grown very sick and had asked Y/N to watch over Maggie because she needed some direction. Of course, she had promised to take care of Maggie for her father Hershel. Which meant she felt responsible for Maggie in some fashion after Hershel died.

The unfortunate thing is that people were right. Maggie did take advantage of their relationship. During their school years, Y/N was always the better student. Helping Maggie get through her classes. Where Y/N thrived, Maggie barely just made it through. And right when they were about to graduate, Y/N was doing everything she could to get an internship at the company Vixen. It was the hottest, rising fashion design company in New York. All throughout college, Y/N had admired the man in charge of the company. Guy Vixen was her inspiration for actually becoming a fashion designer. She loved his work and dreamt to be like him when she finally got her foot in the business.

Maggie on the other hand? She really had no direction. It seemed like Maggie was a drifter, going where the world would take her. But they both applied for an internship at Vixen. It was Y/N’s dream to work there and be able to work beside Guy Vixen. Maggie did it just for the hell of it. When Y/N was applying, Maggie was there. So it just seemed to work itself out that way. Originally? Neither one of them thought they would get a callback. It was just a dream scenario that was highly unlikely.

But? Almost immediately Maggie had gotten a call back. Guy Vixen himself wanted her to come in and do an interview with him. Y/N never received a call. It wasn’t until after she started working at Vixen that Y/N had learned that Guy never looked at people’s art first. Talent at the time didn’t matter to him. What mattered to him was someone’s social media presence. The kind of impact that they had to the world. At the time they applied? Y/N had a smaller following because she focused mainly on representing her art. Maggie had a much larger social media presence. It didn’t feature her art in any way, but it was more of a lifestyle presence. So Maggie received that call back not because of her designs, but because her personal social media account had a significant amount of followers.

Guy had decided after looking at Maggie’s social media that he liked her look. And after his interview with her? He hired her on immediately. Not as an intern, but as an actual paid employee. Back then? Y/N had gotten upset. Not because Maggie had gotten the job, but because Maggie had ‘accidentally’ made a mistake that helped her in getting that job. When Maggie went to the interview, she grabbed Y/N’s portfolio instead of her own swearing that she had confused the two. According to her, Maggie was late for the interview and just grabbed the first portfolio she saw assuming that it was hers. Because of Maggie’s look along with Y/N’s designs, Maggie had easily gotten the job.

When Y/N approached Maggie about her showing Y/N’s work as her own, Maggie insisted that she didn’t realize it until after Guy had looked at the portfolio and handed it back to her. Something about that never sat right with Y/N. Maggie explained that after Guy insisted on hiring her that she would have looked stupid if she told Guy that the designs weren’t hers. So she didn’t tell him.

After that happened? Their relationship was on shaky water. Because of that, Maggie managed to get Y/N a job at the company as well. Promised Y/N that she would be in a job where they were partners. Swore up and down that Y/N would be an important part of the company where she would be able to grow. And threw the idea of working beside Guy Vixen in her face. Of course, she would want to take that opportunity. It was her idol after all. When Maggie convinced her to take the job, she hinted that it might be possible that Y/N would be able to do even better than Maggie in the future.

Before going into the job, Maggie labeled them partners. After she accepted the job? Y/N realized that she wasn’t Maggie’s partner. No. She was Maggie’s personal assistant. And even though that infuriated her, Guy Vixen was dangled in her face. Maybe there would be that chance that he would see how hard she was working and she’d get hired on too.

Four years later? That never happened. Guy after this long didn’t even know who the hell she was and Y/N was in the same exact position she was when she got here in the business. Remaining loyal and continuing to be Maggie’s personal assistant. Guy didn’t even know her name. Nor did he look at her more than once or twice. Truthfully? Y/N felt invisible.  

In those four years? Maggie had become incredibly successful. Her position at the company was a highly sought after one and she was doing very well for herself. But? The thing that people didn’t know was that Y/N often was the reason behind Maggie’s success. Most of the time, Y/N had helped Maggie with her designs. Stirring up ideas and helping Maggie to put the final touches on things. Even though Maggie was a terrible friend, that promise Y/N had made to Hershel years ago lingered in her mind. She didn’t want to make Maggie look bad. Plus? If Maggie remained in the company, there was always a chance that someone could see that Y/N had talent too. Though? After four years, Y/N should have realized that was never happening.

What that meant for Y/N was she often did the work that Maggie didn’t want to do for the company. Which was pretty much everything except for the public events and the parties that Maggie was meant to attend. Maggie wanted the publicity and the attention. But she didn’t want to spend the time working on the things that needed to be done. Even when Maggie would have interviews for certain magazines or news sources, it was always Y/N preparing her beforehand. Creating mock interviews and answers for Maggie to memorize. And they would have to work on it for an ungodly amount of time. Just so Maggie didn’t fuck up.

At the end of the day? Y/N knew that made her pathetic. And she understood that. But she had those hopes that one day she would stand out to Guy. At first she just allowed herself to stay hidden, but over the last year or two she had been doing things in attempt to get him to notice her. Hoping that he would finally see her as a person and not some random stranger standing in his way in the middle of the hallway at the office. That hope that she would one day become something just stuck with her, so she never gave up. Hoping that one day a miracle would happen and she’d finally get credit for the designer that she was. The talent she was capable of sharing.

Today had been a very shitty day already. And it was only ten in the morning.

Y/N was exhausted. She had started work at seven. But there was so much to do before Maggie showed up in the mornings. There was almost a list of chores that would have to be done that Maggie put Y/N in charge of, every single day. If she didn’t get them done? Maggie would often have a shitty day and that wasn’t something that Y/N was keen on. Because if Maggie had a bad day? That meant that Y/N had an even shittier day. So there was never time to sit and relax. Enjoying the day only happened after work hours.

Since they had lived in the city, Maggie had fallen in love with a coffee shop that she had found the week she had gotten the job at Vixen. So that meant every morning Y/N was expected to go out and get Maggie her favorite latte at this coffee shop. Being Maggie’s personal assistant? Yeah, that pretty much made Y/N her slave. And today? The coffee shop was running behind. So that meant she had to wait in an incredibly long line before Y/N could even get to the office. Maggie’s order was also very specific, so it wasn’t like it was something that she could just get quickly. The biggest problem though? This shop was five blocks away. That meant it put Y/N completely behind on her duties for the day. Which meant she had to rush through the New York City streets once she got the latte. And it was snowing. So not only did she have to fight prime time traffic to walk through, it was so much worse because of the weather. Which meant by the time she got back to the building, she was soaked. So not only was she tired and stressed, but she was also freezing. In her rush to the office, Y/N had almost been hit by a taxi that wasn’t paying attention to pedestrians. And that made her drop her coffee so she had nothing to warm up with either.

Rushing to Maggie’s office was hard. If it wasn’t the traffic of the people on the streets or the cars, it was waiting for the elevators to get where they needed to go. The office was in one of the tallest towers in New York where they were on a higher level. Because Maggie was one of the higher up employees, there was a special elevator that she got to take that would avoid all the stops. However, for Y/N who had just a simple job with the company? That meant she had to wait at the community elevator. And that took forever too. Being smashed into a very tiny space with many people wasn’t exactly her favorite thing to do every day.

Normally, Maggie got to the office anywhere between ten and eleven. Usually, it was around quarter to eleven. So there was a hope that Maggie still hadn’t gotten back yet. Once she reached the top floor, Y/N was quick to make her way out of the elevator toward Maggie’s office. Thankfully when she reached it, she saw that it was empty which gave her a huge sigh of relief. Most everyone in the office was always busy with their own things, so they wouldn’t have noticed Y/N coming in late. They probably rarely even noticed her in the first place.

Setting Maggie’s latte aside, Y/N gathered the things that Maggie would need for the day to make sure that she was prepared. There was an important meeting that Maggie had to attend this afternoon. Once those items were together in one place, Y/N sat down and started to go through Maggie’s messages, writing down the notes that she knew would be important. When she got to the e-mails, the sound of the door to the office being pushed open was heard. That did bring a certain amount of dread to Y/N, but she didn’t pull away from what she was doing. Still being incredibly focused, Y/N just kept scrolling through.

“I have almost everything set up for you,” she felt rushed, wishing that she was done by now. Her face flushed over with a warmth and her heart started racing. Truthfully? She fully expected Maggie to start having one of her shit fits. “I am so sorry that it took me this long, but you wouldn’t believe the day that I have been having. I was…”

Mid-sentence, Y/N felt the strength of someone pulling at the arm of her chair. A shocked breath fell from her lips when the weight of someone much smaller than her jumped into her arms. Scrambling to keep them from falling, Y/N pulled them close. Their arms hooked around Y/N’s shoulders tightly. A giggle filled the air when the familiar bright green eyes of the little girl in her arms pulled back.  

“Jordyn, you scared me half to death,” she exclaimed, the first smile she had all day tugging at her lips. Wrapping her arms back around the eight-year-old, Y/N gave her a big bear hug. This little girl was someone that Y/N had met when she was just a baby. Brushing her fingers through Jordyn’s dark hair, Y/N felt a sense of joy for the first time today. “My gosh. You know, it is so good to see you! It’s been way too long. I almost couldn’t take it.”

“It’s been three days,” Jordyn reminded Y/N with a tiny laugh when she pulled back from the hug. Hopping down from the chair, Jordyn ran back around the desk into the arms of her father, Negan Smith. Picking Jordyn up, Negan groaned when he balanced her in his one free arm that he had. Stealing a quick glance at Negan had a lump developing in Y/N’s throat. “Daddy, I scared her.”

“I saw that baby girl,” Negan smirked, nuzzling his nose in against his daughters. “That’s not very nice.”

“Oh, that’s not her fault,” Y/N stood up from the chair that she was seated in to playfully tickle at Jordyn’s sides. A boisterous laugh escaped Jordyn with her burying her head at the crook of Negan’s neck. “You know three days is just way too long for me not to see you.”

“I agree,” Jordyn wiggled in Negan’s arms, her green eyes locking with Y/N’s when she kicked her feet about. “We should make this a daily thing.”

“A daily thing? Well, I wouldn’t complain about that, but I don’t know how your father would feel,” Y/N winked, her gaze finally meeting Negan’s. In that moment Negan appeared to be smiling at that interaction the girl were sharing together enjoying the way that they were talking. There appeared to be a sense of awe in his hazel eyes. “What are the two of you doing here?”  

“Daddy got breakfast and coffee for Maggie,” Jordyn explained gagging at the idea of coffee, managing to get Negan to set her back down on the ground. Looking to Negan’s other hand, Y/N’s eyes fell upon the drink carrier that he had along with the small bag that was sitting at the center of it. Lowering back down into the desk chair, Y/N nodded her head and attempted to give half of her attention back to the e-mails hoping to finish them before Maggie got here. “Daddy got me a hot chocolate. They added peppermint to it and because they said I was special they added mini marshmallows. It’s really good. They even drew Santa on the side of my cup for me.”

“No way!” Y/N worked hard to give the same kind of energy back that Jordyn was giving her, just like she had always done. Jordyn tugged at Negan’s jacket, holding her hand up for her cup and Negan set down the carrier that he had. Putting the bag beside it, Negan handed Jordyn carefully her cup and Jordyn came over to show Y/N. Observing the cup Y/N’s got wide and she wanted to look as impressed as Jordyn clearly was about the hot chocolate. “That is so cool!”

“I thought so too,” Jordyn moved in beside Y/N to look at the screen observing all the words that were on it. Behind her big green eyes, Y/N could see confusion. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just finishing up going through some of Maggie’s e-mails for her,” Y/N explained, clicking away her e-mails and turning to face Jordyn again to give her the attention she deserved. Really, she could get back to them at any time whereas she actually enjoyed the time that she spent with Jordyn.  

“Where’s Maggie? Shouldn’t that be her job?” Negan’s deep, raspy voice stammered as he made his way to the other side of the desk to take a seat on the edge of it. Yeah, it was Maggie’s job, but Y/N really wondered if Maggie knew how to do it. Turning to Negan, Y/N felt her heartrate quicken. Just the sight of Negan took her breath away. With his beautiful hazel eyes. His extremely prominent dimples. Along with his charming smile and chiseled jawline. His facial hair was salt and pepper colored. His dark hair was slightly messy from when she assumed he pulled his hat off from coming inside from the snow. And then there was his cologne. God, he smelled good.

“She should be here soon,” Y/N forced herself to look away from Negan not wanting to gawk. Motioning Jordyn to wait, Y/N got up from where she was seated to go for her bag. Coming back, Y/N lowered back into her seat and started digging into her bag. Pulling something out, she went to hand it to Jordyn. Holding it out had Jordyn’s eyes growing big. “I saw this the other day at the Christmas market in Bryant Park. I thought you would like it.”

“Oh my God,” Jordyn grabbed the nutcracker that Y/N had picked up for her and turned it to face Y/N. It was a very ugly nutcracker which was something that Jordyn had been collecting ever since she was little. Nut crackers that no one else would want to buy. “Daddy look! It’s so ugly!”

“I see that honey,” Negan laughed, reaching out to grab the present that Y/N had gotten for Jordyn. Sweeping his finger over the nutcracker made a low rumble of an amused sound fall from his throat. “What do you say?”

“Thank you Y/N,” Jordyn hopped up to give Y/N another hug. Squeezing tightly to Y/N this time, burying her head against the side of Y/N’s neck. “You’ve added more to my collection than anyone. You always find the ugliest ones.”

“I don’t know if I should be proud of that or not,” Y/N teased, patting faintly at Jordyn’s back while she held onto her. “I just know how much you love them, so I’m always sure to keep an eye out for them every Christmas.”

“You’re too kind. You know that, right?” Negan stammered from where he was seated on the edge of the desk, his hand reaching out to place in over Y/N’s shoulder. It had her turning to look at him with Jordyn still in her arms. “You should really come over to see her collection at some point. We have these shelves that we made special for her to display them. She’s very proud of it.”

“It looks amazing,” Jordyn leaned back, throwing her hands out in the air dramatically. “You gotta see it Y/N.”

“One day, I’d love to,” Y/N winked noticing the way that Negan was stroking at her shoulder before giving it a firm squeeze again.

“I know you see Jordyn all the time, but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to really see you. You know, other than in passing when we’re switching off Jordyn. Too long really,” Negan admitted, a muscle in his jaw flexing when he let his hand drop at his side. “I used to see you all the time when you and Maggie were living together in that apartment. Ever since she moved into her new apartment in East Village, I rarely see you anymore.”

“Yeah,” Y/N swallowed down hard feeling her chest aching at the thought of Negan. Being around Negan was very hard because this was another example of what Maggie had done to be a bad friend. And everyone close to Y/N knew it. Everyone except Negan of course.

Back when they were in school, Y/N wasn’t completely sold with fashion design when she started her first year. Fashion design was something she had always told herself that she wanted. But when she was younger, she loved making movies. It was something that she had found incredibly fun and did as a hobby. And she’d do it all. Create the costumes. Make the scripts. Film. Edit. Act. Everything. It was an art that also came easy to her. Just for so long, Y/N thought she enjoyed fashion design more. So when she went to college, she made a promise to her family that she would test out the idea of maybe getting a film degree if fashion design didn’t go through. Which led her to Negan.

Negan was originally Y/N’s film professor that she had taken a class with in her first year. That was eight years ago. At the time? Y/N hadn’t really heard much about Negan. It was an intro class and most of the boys that were in the class were losing their minds before Negan got to class about who their professor was. But it wasn’t because of what he did for the film industry. No, it was because Negan was originally a professional baseball player. And apparently a very good one. For years, he thrived playing that sport up until he got a really terrible injury where he was forced to retire young. Using the money that Negan had made through the years, Negan decided to focus his time after that on creating films. He had the resources and the money to do it, so he just went for it. And? He ended up being very good at it. What he had done had caught the attention of some big names in Hollywood. Which led to Negan winning multiple awards before he even reached the age of thirty. After meeting the love of his life and getting married, Negan had settled down. Decided to work less on films and put a lot of his effort into teaching. It meant that he got to be with his wife and spend more time with her.

From the moment that Negan walked into that classroom on the first day, Y/N had the biggest crush on him. Everything about him appealed to her. Negan wasn’t like most of the professors that she had. Right from the start he had the mouth of a sailor which made him slightly more fun than the others. And he was so relaxed in the way that he taught. He took things seriously, but he made things enjoyable for people. He dressed casual, he’d interact with his students and get to know them. He was a fun professor and it didn’t hurt that he was incredibly good looking.  

Of course, there was an age gap between them, but her crush was innocent in the beginning. Negan was married. And he talked about his wife all the time. Almost every class somehow his wife Lucille would be brought into some kind of discussion. And he was so excited to talk about their daughter that they had just had. That’s probably what also made him more appealing to Y/N. How good of a father and a husband he seemed to be. She had never seen a man love something so much and it just showed in everything that he did. She found Negan very sweet and she was charmed by him.

During those years, that was the class that she looked forward to the most. And she did amazing in that class because she wanted to stand out to Negan. During that first year, they would talk all the time. Even hours after class. About the film industry. Her future plans. Negan’s family and his past. They clicked really fast. A few times after class, Negan had even introduced her to Lucille and Jordyn when they would drop by to see him. And in some classes? Negan happily brought Jordyn in with him, strapping her to his chest in her baby carrier while he taught. It was adorable.

So even though her heart was set on fashion design, she kept taking Negan’s classes because she enjoyed them so much. During the second year at school, Negan’s wife had ended up getting pancreatic cancer. Unfortunately it took her quick and Negan was devastated by the loss of his wife. He would have meltdowns at school to the point she started helping him out with his classes. And when he wouldn’t show up to classes, she would come to help him with Jordyn. That’s why she was so close to Negan and Lucille’s daughter. Jordyn was still very young when her mother died, so Y/N helped to raise Jordyn.

Eventually with her help, Negan managed to pull himself out of his depression. There was one discussion in particular that made Negan get his shit together when she made him realize that while he was in pain, Jordyn needed him. And he had to fight for her. After that time period and the dedication Y/N had put into helping Negan, they became super close. Closer than they probably should have been.

At the time, she thought they flirted constantly. They spent most days together sharing meals and taking care of Jordyn together. Jordyn had latched on pretty quickly to Y/N and Negan would pay Y/N to help take care of his daughter even though she didn’t want his money. Most months, she would collect the money and then return it to one of Negan’s jackets when he wasn’t paying attention.

During her last year of college, Negan had convinced her to be his student teacher. Around that time she was seriously considering going into film by Negan’s suggestions. He always told her that she was too good to waste her time on fashion and he promised to help her in her career. During the years they spent time together, Negan never made a move on her. And she always assumed it was because she was his student. Maybe he was just being professional. There was a hope that when she graduated, something more would have come from their relationship. There had been a few times where they had near kisses and she thought they were on the verge of having something develop between them.

One day Maggie came to see Y/N while she was working late with Negan checking papers. At the time Maggie knew how much Y/N liked Negan. Hell, she was pretty much in love with Negan. And Maggie had already met Jordyn. Especially with how often Jordyn and Y/N were actually together. But that didn’t stop Maggie from flirting with Negan the moment she entered that room. At the time, Y/N hadn’t thought much about it because even though Negan was flirting back, that really didn’t mean anything. Negan flirted with pretty much everyone. That was just the kind of personality that he had.

A few weeks later, Negan showed up to Y/N’s apartment that she shared with Maggie. There was a big bouquet of flowers in his hands. When she opened the door, her mind immediately made up all kinds of scenarios about how Negan finally realized how he felt about her and that’s why he was there. To confess his feelings for her. But instead? They were for Maggie. It devastated Y/N. After Negan left that day, Maggie promised she wouldn’t let it go any further because she knew how Y/N felt about Negan.

That promise lasted a whole three days before Y/N came home to the apartment she shared with Maggie to find Negan and Maggie having sex on the couch together. It broke her heart. The man she had been in love with over the last four years was smitten with her best friend and Maggie accomplished to snag the heart of Negan in less than a few days. After that? Her heart was broken. Maggie had done a lot of shitty things in the past, but never something this big.

More than anything Y/N wanted to run away, but she didn’t have the money to get an apartment in the city alone. So she stayed. Depression ate away at her and the passion she had for things were gone. Now she was being forced to listen to Maggie and Negan having sex all the time. And truthfully? That was so hard to take. Knowing that her best friend had landed the man that she had been in love with for four years. With Y/N being upset, Maggie tried to explain that she couldn’t help herself. Negan was just too charming and she fell hard for him. Swearing that Negan was relentless in trying to get with her. And in attempts to make Y/N feel better, Maggie insisted that Negan wasn’t really Y/N’s type anyways. That eventually she would find someone better.

So not only did Maggie get Y/N’s dream job, but she also got Y/N’s dream man too. Maggie and Negan had been dating now for over four years. And for four years, she watched the man she loved be hopelessly in love with her best friend. Even though so many times she wanted to run away, to finally give up on Maggie, the promise she made to Hershel always lingered over her head.

Now, she was Maggie’s personal assistant and she rarely saw Negan other than when she would drop Jordyn off or pick her up. Or if she had to run some kind of chore for Maggie that involved Negan. What used to be a friendship where they would hang out almost every day slowly drifted when Maggie started dating him.

“I mean it, I really miss seeing you. You should come over and we can have binge night with the little one. I’m sure she’s told you, but she’s started to get obsessed with supernatural television shows. And she’s had her eye on one for a while,” Negan winked at Jordyn before nudging faintly at Y/N’s shoulder. “I also got some cool video games that no one else will play with me. We used to play together all the time and I miss it.”

“What? Maggie doesn’t play video games with you?” Y/N wondered and immediately it drew a deep raspy laugh from Negan’s throat. Placing his hand in over the center of his chest, Negan’s nose wrinkled and he shook his head. “I’ll take that as a no?”

“That’s definitely a no,” Negan agreed with her, his dimples growing more visible with his laughter. “You know she hates that shit. Big time.”

“She always yells at daddy when he plays,” Jordyn informed Y/N with a sigh, heading over to the couch in Maggie’s office after snatching her nutcracker back from Negan. “She thinks there are better things he can do with his time.”

“Sounds like Maggie,” she admitted with a weak a smile noticing the way that Negan was staring down at her. “Is something wrong?”

“You looked soaked,” Negan replied back, outstretching his hand to touch at her hair to feel that it was wet beneath his fingertips. “What happened?”

“Oh, Maggie likes me to pick up a certain coffee for her in the morning,” she nodded toward the cup that was sitting on the desk. “It’s a shop about five blocks away. It just started snowing really bad, but I’ll be fine.”

“You’re gonna get sick,” Negan commented, getting up from the desk to pull his thick winter jacket off. Setting it aside for a minute, Negan started to pull off the red flannel shirt that he was wearing revealing a white t-shirt underneath. Motioning her to stand, she immediately shook her head and Negan hushed her. “Take the shirt off and put this on. It will keep you warm.”

“I shouldn’t,” she admitted looking to the shirt that Negan was offering her. Without further talking, Negan reached for her and pulled her up from the chair. Gasping out, she almost fell forward when Negan started to open the sweater jacket that she was wearing. Getting it off her, Negan motioned her to wait and headed over to the window where the heater was near it. Hanging it over the side, Negan moved back and motioned her to turn around. Thankfully she had been wearing an undershirt beneath that sweater. “Negan?”

“Hold your arms out,” he instructed her with a warmth flooding into her cheeks. Doing as she was told, she allowed him to pull his shirt up over her body and she let out a long sigh. Once it was on her, she immediately smelled his cologne that she had become heavily attracted to whenever she would smell it outside in public. Maybe it was because she was so attracted to Negan and that was his scent. Either way, the shirt smelled really nice and it was warm when she pulled it in closer to her. “Good?”

Instead of saying anything, she simply nodded. Turning her to face him, Negan caressed over her shoulders as if he was waiting to warm her up, “It would be really nice if you could join us for Christmas this year. I know that you’re gonna be alone and Maggie talked about it. I’d love having you come over to the house. Jordyn would love it too.”

“Yes! Very much so!” Jordyn agreed with her father, kicking her feet a bit and giving that same cheesy over the top smile that Negan would often give Y/N. Even though Jordyn had some of her mother’s features, there was so much of Negan inside of Jordyn. Both in her attitude and her physical appearance. “I have some presents for you.”

“You didn’t have to get me presents sweetheart,” she insisted with a frown, knowing that she felt strange about this whole situation.

“Of course I do,” Jordyn retorted with a firm shake of her head. “You help take care of me when daddy needs help. You always have. And you’re with me multiple times during the week. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well that just won me over,” Y/N felt a warmth flood throughout her body. Heading over to the couch, she sat down next to Jordyn and squeezed her arm tightly around Jordyn’s shoulders. “You are so special. And I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” Jordyn hooked her arms around Y/N to squeeze her tightly in her embrace. Negan was watching them from afar with a weak smile tugging at his lips. Heading over toward them, he pushed his hands into his pockets and let out a long sigh. “Daddy says it all the time too. He doesn’t know what he would do without you.”

“I’m sure he would be just fine,” Y/N suggested since their relationship was nothing like it used to be since he started dating Maggie. The only thing she was to Negan was a prominent female figure in Jordyn’s life.  And even though they weren’t together, she was still very much helping him to raise Jordyn. “He has Maggie.”

“You and Maggie are vastly different,” Negan alerted her with a tip of his head. If only he meant that in a way that would actually mean something to her. That was something that Y/N had originally wished for from the beginning. “I can count on you. Maggie is…well she’s Maggie.”

“Am I hearing my name?” a voice interrupted their conversation and it drew Negan to look back over his shoulder to see that Maggie was entering the space. Moving through the office, Maggie reached her arm out to hook it around Negan’s shoulders when he turned to embrace her. Bringing their lips together in a lingering kiss, Maggie hummed against Negan’s lips and it forced Y/N to look away. There was always that sense of jealousy that lingered when Y/N saw the two of them together. “What were we talking about?”

“How different you and Y/N were,” Negan responded truthfully, his mouth hovering over Maggie’s. A smile tugged at his handsome features before he peppered a few more kisses over Maggie’s lips. “Mhmm, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Maggie dragged her palms down over the center of Negan’s chest. Y/N looked to Jordyn who rolled her eyes and went back to playing with the present that Y/N had gotten her. “What are you doing here babe?”

“Jordyn and I decided to bring you some breakfast,” Negan answered, nodding over toward the bag that they had brought along with the coffee. “I guess it’s more so brunch now and it may be a little cold, but…”

“That was very sweet,” Maggie brushed her fingers through Negan’s short beard, lifting up just enough to nuzzle her nose against Negan’s.

“Although, I think Y/N went out to go get you coffee. So I can probably just give the coffee to Y/N so she has something to warm herself up,” Negan gazed back at Y/N sitting with Jordyn, but Maggie grabbed Negan’s chin firmly forcing him to look at her. Kissing him a few more times, Maggie was making sure to draw it out and it had Y/N’s heart pounding inside of her chest.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I think I would love your coffee way more than anything else,” Maggie released Negan and headed over toward the latte that Y/N had gotten for her. Holding it up, she stepped on the foot lever to get the trash to open. Dropping it in the trash had Y/N’s lips parting. She wanted to say something, but instead she bit her tongue when Maggie rubbed her hands together and moved to grab the coffee that Negan had gotten for her. Of course Maggie didn’t think to give her the latte because that wasn’t the way that Maggie thought. Taking a sip, Maggie paused and by the expression over her face, Y/N knew that Maggie hated the coffee. “This is fantastic. I’m so glad that you got it for me.”

“If that’s her liking it face, I’d hate to see what her face looked like when she hated something,” Jordyn lifted up to whisper in Y/N’s ear. Both of them giggled which drew Maggie’s attention to them. How close Y/N was to Jordyn was always something Maggie was uncomfortable with after she started dating Negan. Because Maggie never bonded with Jordyn like Y/N did.

“What are you wearing?” Maggie wondered, her eyes narrowing when she observed Y/N’s body slowly. Looking down, Y/N noticed that Maggie was talking about Negan’s flannel that she was wearing. Staring at it a moment of scrutiny. “Don’t let Guy catch you wearing that. He will throw you out for the day and I need you here.”

“She was cold. She got soaked being outside,” Negan pointed out in Y/N’s direction which had Maggie looking her over more thoroughly. “So I just gave her my shirt. I thought it would be better for her to be warm instead of having her freeze. The last thing that you want is your assistant getting pneumonia.”

Cringing, Y/N hated to hear Negan refer to her as Maggie’s assistant. That was what she was though. So maybe she needed to get over that. Maggie sold it to her as her ‘partner’ but she was just a glorified slave. Embarrassment flooded her veins. Four years ago Negan thought she was good enough to sell to film studios to hire her on. Now she was working as someone’s personal assistant. He probably thought she was pathetic. Then again, he probably really didn’t think about her much to begin with.

“You always have to be so logical,” Maggie muttered, stepping forward to reach out and palm in over the side of Negan’s face. His long eyelashes fluttered leaning in closer to her to meet her halfway. Humming against his lips, Maggie smiled and then back stepped toward her desk. In just the small amount of time with Maggie being there, she had made it very obvious to stress to Y/N that Negan was hers. Setting her personal items down, Maggie moved over toward the couch to take a seat on the opposite side of Jordyn. Upon seeing the ugly nutcracker that Jordyn was playing with, Maggie’s nose wrinkled and she reached out to grab it. “I’ll never understand why you love these things so much.”

“They are so ugly,” Jordyn blurt out excitedly, kicking her feet a bit when she pointed to the nutcracker that Maggie was now observing. “They’re so ugly that they are cute.”

“I told you hun, she’s always had a thing for them,” Negan reminded Maggie getting her eyes to lift to his from where she was seated. “The uglier things are? The better for her.”

“It’s because I want to prove that even the ugliest things are loveable to someone. You can’t just leave them there for no one to buy,” Jordyn exclaimed with a frown reaching for the nutcracker from Maggie. “I like my collection.”

“I know you do baby,” Negan lowered down, outstretching his hand to brush his fingers through his daughter’s dark hair. A moment passed where all of them were silent. Clearing his throat, Negan looked to Maggie, offering up one of his charming smiles. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“What’s tonight?” confusion flooded Maggie’s green eyes and she looked to Y/N to save her. Only, Negan didn’t give her the time to do so.

“That event at the school,” Negan reminded Maggie, his head bobbing about. “We’ve only talked about it a million times. The one where potential donators come in and they get a feel for what the school can offer. We have people come in from influential jobs to talk about how their classes got them in the career they are in today. We’ve talked about it a lot hun.”

“Oh, right. That,” Maggie’s mouth parted into the shape of an o. It was obvious that Maggie was trying to come up with some kind of response. Shifting on the couch uneasily, Maggie slid further away from Jordyn and bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry Negan, but an important meeting with a client came up tonight. Guy and I are supposed to meet them for dinner.”

“When did that happen?” Y/N panicked, reaching for her phone to pull out her calendar. “I have nothing in the schedule.”

“It only was just confirmed with me when I was on the elevator to get up here,” Maggie explained to Y/N, holding her hand out to get Y/N to lower her phone down. “Guy was on the elevator at the same time and he reminded me of it. It’s a very important client and he wants me to be there.”

“Maggie,” Negan frowned, his jaw flexing and visible disappointment filled his hazel eyes. “You knew about this. About how important this was for the school. You were one of the big names on the list for people.”

“And I’m sorry this turned out the way it did, but work is more important,” Maggie stressed to Negan throwing her arm about in the air while she spoke. “I’d love to go to this with you because you know how much I love going places with you, but this is one thing I can’t get out of. You’re a big enough name.”

“But I’m for the film department. You were supposed to be the lead for the fashion department Maggie. That’s two totally different areas. People coming for that aren’t gonna wanna see me,” Negan stressed, standing up slowly. His hands pressed in over his hips, his body language showing that he was unhappy. “If you were gonna cancel, you should have told me long before today. That way I could have gotten someone that could replace you.”

“I can’t help it Negan,” Maggie defended herself placing her hand in over the center of her chest, her head shaking swiftly from side to side. “This only came about today. If I would have known that it was going to happen, I would have told you.”

A grunt escaped Negan’s lips and he rolled his eyes. A muscle was flexing at the corner of his jaw as it often would when he would get irritated or angry with someone. Maggie was waiting for some kind of response from Negan, but at this point? She wasn’t getting it.

“You know how it is Negan. Around Christmas time, my job gets really busy,” Maggie tried to defend herself realizing that she was losing in her defense with her last-minute cancelation. Looking around the room, Maggie’s green eyes locked with Y/N’s and she gasped. Snapping her fingers, she got Negan’s attention and pointed at Y/N. “Make Y/N go instead! She works here too. She knows my job inside and out. I guarantee she would be able to give the speech.”

“Maggie, they wouldn’t want me,” Y/N responded immediately realizing that she was a no-name. Whereas people actually knew who Maggie was. Sure, she knew the speech inside and out because she had written it for Maggie. As well as made a pdf along with a video for Maggie to share. There was no question that she knew this whole thing more than Maggie ever did, but that didn’t excuse that no one would want her over Maggie. “I’m a no one. No one even knows my name.”

“But you work hand-in-hand with me,” Maggie countered, standing up from the couch. Waving her hand back and forth between Negan and Y/N, Maggie was desperately trying to get the two of them to agree. “Y/N, you know that you knew this stuff.”

“She might have something to do tonight,” Negan stressed, shaking his head. It was obvious that he was still upset with Maggie. “This is very last-minute Maggie. For me, for her.”

“She never has anything she has to do,” Maggie defended herself and it had Y/N huffing out. Looking to Jordyn, Y/N noticed that Negan’s daughter was just watching the whole situation play out in front of her. “Come on Y/N. You know just as well as I do that if I need you, no matter what you are available.”

“It’s my job,” Y/N stressed to Maggie who grumbled under her breath and then lowered her head into her hand. With how Negan was reacting to things, it was obvious that Negan didn’t think she was a good enough replacement for Maggie. “He doesn’t want me there.”

“That’s…that’s not true,” Negan replied back with a sense of empathy over what she just said. “I don’t mind you coming, but…”

“Then it should be fine,” Maggie interrupted him so she could stop any worries or negative thoughts about the idea that she came up with. “All we have to do is have her replace me. I assure you that the speech is going to be great.”

“I don’t think you’re realizing why this is upsetting to me,” Negan grumbled under his breath noticing that Maggie didn’t seem to realize where the problem was. “I don’t have a problem with her stepping in. My problem here is that we promoted you. People are going to expect you to be there. And dropping out of things last second is not really cool Maggie.”

“Oh no, I understand that,” Maggie assured him, stepping to him and placing her hand in over the center of Negan’s chest getting their eyes to lock. “I understand that I will have to make it up to you. And if I didn’t have this last-minute meeting, I wouldn’t be doing this to you.”

“A lot of people are going to be disappointed,” Negan thought aloud, lowering his stare to watch Maggie stroking at the center of his chest. It didn’t take much to see that gradually Negan was getting less angry with Maggie. Sighing loudly, Negan shrugged his shoulders with his eyebrows bouncing up. “You do owe me Maggie.”

“And I intend to follow through,” Maggie whispered lifting her hand to tap lightly at Negan’s nose. Tugging at Negan’s jacket, Maggie got him to lower down enough so she could steal another kiss from his lips.

Separating, Negan sighed loudly and looked to Y/N. Throwing his hands up in the air, he seemed at a loss for words, “Are you available to replace Maggie tonight? If you came to the event, it would help me out. Having someone to talk is better than having no one to talk. I’d owe you one.”

The look in his hazel eyes were almost pleading and it made Y/N’s throat go dry. Giving a small nod of her head, Y/N knew that she couldn’t turn Negan down when he was asking her for a favor, “I’ll find a way to make time.”

“I’ll text you over the details as soon as I can. Thank you for doing this Y/N,” Negan stammered, his dimples prominent while he thought of something more to say. “I just have to find a way to make it make sense to the board.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal honey,” Maggie reached out to squeeze over Negan’s shoulders and then headed back toward her desk. Negan went to say something to bicker back with Maggie, but the way he slouched forward showed that he knew that it would have been useless to do so anyways.

“I think me and Jordyn are gonna take off. We are supposed to meet one of her friends at Bryant Park for some ice skating,” Negan informed the two of them, reaching out to help Jordyn up from the couch. “We’ll make sure to drop this guy off first though so we can make sure he can be with rest of your collection.”

“Thank you again!” Jordyn boasted, running to Y/N to give her another big hug. “You always have the best gifts.”

“And you always give the best hugs,” Y/N hummed, giving Jordyn one final big squeeze. Standing up from the couch, Y/N gave Negan a nod not sure how she should say goodbye to him at this point. When they were close, they were hugging all the time. Now, it just felt awkward. “I hope you both have a good time.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will,” Negan curled his arm around his daughter’s shoulders pulling her in closer to him. “Thanks again Y/N.”

“I’ll call you tonight after everything,” Maggie waved goodbye to both Negan and Jordyn as they worked their way out of her office. There was a fake smile plastered over Maggie’s features when they looked back at her from where they were standing by the elevator. Once they were on the elevator and it was closed, Maggie finally relaxed and slouched forward. Looking to the latte that Negan had gotten her, Maggie groaned and shoved it out toward Y/N. “Take this. I don’t want it.”

“Well I don’t want it after you’ve drank from it,” Y/N muttered, her eyes looking down toward the cup with disgust. “We’re close Maggie, but I’m not really interested in sharing germs with you.”

“Oh please, my germs are perfect,” Maggie pushed the drink further toward Y/N who had to grab the cup otherwise it may have spilled everywhere. “I don’t care what you do with it. Just throw it away. That was disgusting. I can’t believe you allowed me to throw away my other latte for that.”

“Maggie, I can’t make you do anything,” Y/N countered moving over toward the trash to throw away the latte that Maggie no longer wanted. Almost immediately after throwing out the latte, Y/N gasped when Maggie threw her the bag of food that Negan had brought for her. Luckily she caught it after fumbling with it for a moment. “You want me to throw this away too?”

“You can eat it. I already had breakfast,” Maggie explained searching for something in one of her drawers. “I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet, so it’s perfect for you.”

“Thanks Maggie,” Y/N set the bag on the corner of Maggie’s desk. Moving over toward the couch, Y/N knew that her laptop was on the coffee table that was in front of it and there were a lot of things she had to get started on.

A loud, exaggerated gasp was heard making Y/N jump when she looked to Maggie who had shot up from the seat that was at her desk, “Damn it Y/N! Couldn’t you have at least wiped off the seat? We should have gotten you a towel or something with how wet you were.”

“Sorry Maggie,” Y/N apologized, fighting hard to avoid rolling her eyes at her overreaction.

“And you didn’t even get through all the e-mails?” Maggie stammered provoking a long sigh from Y/N in response. Great, today was obviously headed for a shitty day. “You’re slacking a little bit.”

“It took longer to get back to the office this morning with this storm and walking,” Y/N explained, getting comfortable on the couch and preparing her laptop. “Also, Negan and Jordyn showing up distracted me for a few.”

“Those sound like excuses Y/N,” Maggie suggested, tapping her fingers on the desk. Suddenly it felt like Y/N was being scolded by someone of authority and like Y/N was a child. “You know what I say. If you have to make excuses about things not being done it means that you’re not taking your job seriously and I need you to take it seriously.”

“I’m not being dismissive with my job, Maggie. I assure you I’m taking things very seriously,” Y/N declared with an uncomfortable sound. It felt like her throat was closing up with Maggie’s green eyes still staring out at her. “What do you want me to say Maggie?”

“I want you to tell me it won’t happen again,” Maggie stressed and it had Y/N faintly laughing. “Is that funny? You know that you only have this job because you were my best friend Y/N. I could probably find someone that is more eager to have this job.”

“No, it’s not funny at all,” Y/N bit down on her bottom lip, getting angry that Maggie was now threatening her position over a few unanswered e-mails. Maggie would be lost without Y/N. So even the idea that Maggie would threaten her job was amusing in itself. “Sorry Maggie, I’ll make sure to get things done faster from here on out.”

“See to that,” Maggie breathed, her eyes going back to the screen to skim over the things that were still left on the computer.

From the couch Y/N stared out at Maggie. After four years at this company, Y/N didn’t even have a desk. She did most of her work from Maggie’s couch or used Maggie’s desk whenever she wasn’t there. Even though Maggie had gotten her this job where they were supposed to be partners, they weren’t even close.

In this moment, it was hard not to consider life and her choices. A promise to Maggie’s father had caused Y/N to become a slave to her best friend. One where she did all the work to make Maggie look good. All Maggie was in this company was a face. Y/N wasn’t really sure what Maggie really did other than share what were mostly Y/N’s designs and ideas. Y/N did everything for Maggie and she didn’t even make a quarter of what Maggie did in terms of salary.

There were moments where Y/N considered if she should really keep putting up with this. Putting all her efforts and talents into Maggie when she didn’t get any recognition whatsoever. Why had she wasted this much time doing this to begin with? For some reason today, everything was just hitting Y/N harder and it was stressing her out more than normal.

There was a knock at the door that drew both of them to look up. Guy Vixen stood at the door, gazing upon Maggie. As always, the owner of the company was dressed in something unbelievably expensive. Vibrant colors added emphasis to his look making sure to always have him stand out. Guy was originally an English model that took advantage of the sources he had and became one of the most successful fashion designers in the world. No matter when you saw Guy, his appearance was always perfect. His nails nicely manicured. His dark hair gelled to perfection. You couldn’t miss him in a crowd. That was for sure. Not just because he was a good-looking guy, but also because he wouldn’t let you miss him. He had to be the center of attention no matter where he was.

“Well don’t just look at me with those doe eyes. Are you ready?” Guy had been holding the door open, his hand waving at Maggie to get up.

“Of course,” Maggie stood up quickly, fixing the dress that she was wearing. Smoothing it over her hips, Maggie moved around the desk and gave a big smile. “Let me grab my notes.”

Watching Maggie’s movements, Y/N knew that in the corner of the room was the drawings for the presentation that Maggie was supposed to do. Yesterday they had talked about them since Y/N had finished them off for Maggie, but it seemed like Maggie was oblivious to them.

“You,” Guy snapped his fingers at Y/N to get her attention. Well that was a first. Usually Guy was oblivious to her existence. Now? Guy’s brown eyes were gazing her over and she felt her heartrate quicken. Suddenly Maggie’s warning was repeating in her mind about what she was wearing. “What are you wearing?”

Damn, Maggie was right. Looking down, Y/N tugged at Negan’s shirt that he had given her to wear in order to warm up, “It’s flannel?”

“Cute,” Guy simply stated, his head tipping to the side. A surprised expression flooded Maggie’s features that Guy would even say something like that to begin with. “It’s very vintage.”

“Thank you,” Y/N offered up a weak smile, not sure how to respond since that wasn’t the response that she was expecting.

“You ready?” Maggie outstretched her hand to grab a hold of Guy’s arm.

“Yes darling, let’s go,” Guy started to lead Maggie away, but Y/N cleared her throat.

“Maggie,” Y/N called out to Maggie who looked frustrated that Y/N would even call out to her in the first place. “Are you forgetting something?”

“What could I possibly be for…” Maggie started, but Y/N nodded over toward the corner of the room where the materials for the presentation were. A sudden realization flooded through Maggie and she swiftly headed over toward that corner to grab everything. “Yes. You were right. Wouldn’t want to forget these.”

As they were leaving the room, Y/N started to go back to work only to hear Guy whisper, “Who was that again?”

“It’s my assistant,” Maggie muttered under her breath and hearing that made Y/N let out a tense, muted laugh. And there it was. The true label that Maggie had always planned out for her. Y/N was a fool to assume anything else. And each day only proved to her how she was going to be stuck in this very role until the end of time.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

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@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Unspoken Melody p.2

Hi guys, here's a new part of the story, if you've missed part 1 here it is :) If you want to read more of my stories, here's my masterlist.

Two drivers, one unforgettable concert, and a chance encounter with a pop sensation that leaves Oscar questioning everything he thought about music—and maybe even himself.

The hotel room was quiet when you stepped in, a sharp contrast to the roaring energy of the concert venue. Your ears still buzzed faintly from the music, the adrenaline of the show coursing through you even as you kicked off your heels and let out a long sigh. Dropping your bag by the door, you glanced toward the bed and smiled.

Mark was there, stretched out with his laptop balanced on his knees. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he barely looked up as you walked in.

“Hey,” you greeted, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” he replied without much enthusiasm, his eyes glued to the screen.

“The concert went great,” you continued, undeterred. “The crowd was incredible. Lando came, like I mentioned, and he brought a friend—Oscar, I think his name was? He seemed really nice. A bit shy, though.”

Mark hummed in response, barely acknowledging your words.

You exhaled softly, trying not to let his indifference sting. You knew he cared in his own way; he just wasn’t great at showing it sometimes.

“It’s such a shame you can’t come to the shows,” you said gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

He finally glanced at you, giving a half-smile. “Yeah, it sucks. But you know how it is. The volume just messes with my head.”

“I know,” you said quickly, not wanting to push. “I just wish you could experience it. Tonight was one of the best yet.”

Mark nodded, his gaze already drifting back to his laptop.

Before you could say more, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You reached for it, glancing at the screen. It was your manager.

“Give me a second,” you said, answering the call.

“Hey, you!” your manager greeted, her voice chipper despite the late hour. “Amazing show tonight! Everyone’s raving about it.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, leaning back against the headboard. “It felt great out there.”

“Well, I’ve got some exciting news for you,” she continued. “Lando just called. He wanted to invite you to his next race as a thank-you for tonight. Thought it might be fun for you to see what he does up close.”

Your eyes widened with excitement. “Really? That’s amazing!”

“I figured you’d love it,” she said, laughing. “I’ll work out the details and let you know.”

“Thanks so much,” you said, hanging up the call.

You turned to Mark, who was watching you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Lando invited me to his next race,” you said, your excitement bubbling over. “Isn’t that cool? I’ve never been to one before.”

Mark’s expression shifted slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t know about Lando,” he said after a moment.

You blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I just—he’s a little too friendly, don’t you think? Are you sure he doesn’t want something more from you?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What? Lando? No, of course not. He’s just a friend.”

Mark’s frown deepened. “I don’t know. Guys like that... they don’t always keep it just friendly.”

You leaned closer, taking his hand in yours. “Mark, listen to me. I love you. I could never think of another man like that. Lando’s just a friend, nothing more.”

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “I guess. I just don’t want anyone crossing boundaries, you know?”

“They won’t,” you said firmly. To reassure him further, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re the only one for me.”

Mark gave a small smile, his tension easing slightly. “Alright. If you say so.”

As you settled back into the bed, your mind drifted to the race. You couldn’t wait to see what that world was like. It was bound to be a unique experience—one you were certain would inspire something new, just as tonight’s concert had.

Part 3

[thatbigbisexual29]

Big Brother Hobie (Across The Spiderverse)

*hypes self up* Ok! My first fic I’m actually posting on this account! I made this a day after I saw the movie and fell head over heels for these two! Mainly Hobie, but Pavitr is such a gem and I couldn’t not write for him! I hope whoever comes across this enjoys it! And thanks to @gladdygirl18 who helped me out with actually posting this :)

Hobie was the big brother. Everyone can agree on that. Although he was a punk anarchist, he secretly cared for all his friends. Even Miles, who was a new face to the party, he felt extra protective of. But the people he was especially fond of were Pavitr, Gewn, and Peter B. Parker. He let Gwen crash at his place because she couldn’t go back to her own universe, so he took care of her. Plus, they loved to hit and scream their emotions into whatever song they jammed to. Pavitr wanted to be in on the punk rock fun, but he only knew how to play the Sarangi. He was very talented and skilled, but the Sarangi wasn’t the instrument for punk bands. They still let him come to their jam sessions! (Although he did try to hold a therapy session for the two once they were done.)

And just like Gwen, Pavitr liked to crash with Hobie on occasion. Hobie was more than welcome to let anyone stay at his London apartment, as long as they didn’t leave too much of a mess. Who was he kidding though? With all his Spider-Maning he could barely keep tabs on it. Until, the blessed, godsent Pavitr dropped by while he was out and cleaned the whole place for him. Hobie almost shed a tear. And Peter? Honestly, Hobie loved taking care of Mayday. And he loved her name. Peter would never admit it, but he talked about baby names with Hobie one night and that was the result. And he’s just a great babysitter too.

So, collectively, their little spider gang unofficially announced him as the ‘big brother.’ Hobie didn’t mind. It actually made him feel all nice inside. Not that we would tell anyone. Gotta keep that tough bravado, eh? But there were moments with his friends he could be soft. Most recent one was with Pavitr when he portaled in, still in his Spider-Man gear.

“What’s this, then? Just got done running the jig?” Hobie nodded to him as he sat on his couch, legs propped up on his coffee table with a remote in hand. He shut off the tv as Pav groaned and flopped onto the couch, chest in Hobie’s lap. Hobie huffed a chuckle, pulling off his friend’s mask and tossing it to the side. “Rough one, was it?”

Pavitr sighed and nodded, face hidden by a couch cushion. Feeling sympathy for the younger man, Hobie patted his back.

“I’s jus’ watchin’ the telly, want me to turn it back on? Background noise an all,” Hobie suggested, but Pav just shook his head.

“How have you been, Hobie? Everything ok in your universe?” Pavitr asked, turning his head to look at his friend. How the hell is this kid such a sweetheart? Hobie wondered as he reached down and ruffled his perfect hair.

“S’all cuppa ‘ere, nofin I can’t handle. Still coals and coke, but what else is new? S’going ons wit you? Got some pain in your noddy’s?” Hobie nearly barked out a laugh at the offended look Pav gave him. Scratch that, he did laugh.

“Excuse me?” he asked. Hobie chuckled into his fist.

“Do your shoulder’s hurt?” he simplified. Pavitr pushed up onto his hands and once he rotated his shoulders, he groaned and fell right back onto Hobie’s lap.

“Problem found. ‘Ere, lemme getcha.” Hobie sat up and cracked his knuckles, getting into position.

“Oh, Hobie, you don’t have to-” Pav started.

“Ah, hush. I owe you one. Now let your brova ‘Obie take care ‘ya.”

And with that, Hobie got to work, he kneaded his thumbs into Pavitr’s shoulders, smirking with satisfaction at the relieved moan that left Pav’s chest. They sat in silence as Hobie worked out all the knots in Pav’s back, going from his shoulders all the way down his spine. The only responses he got were satisfied grunts, groans, sighs, and hums from Pavitr as he melted into Hobie’s lap. The kid was really stiff. He must’ve been overworkin’ himself, Hobie thought, s’not good. I should tell him to calm it down. Before he could get a word out, he heard a small squeak come from Pavitr’s mouth. He looked over to see Pav with both hands covering his lips with his eyes shut.

“Oi, was funny? You havin’ a bubble at me? I ain’t hurtin’ you, am I?” Hobie asked as he leaned up to get a better view of Pav’s face. He didn’t look like he was in pain. When he peaked his eyes open to look at the older man, they had a happy twinkle to them.

“N-No no! I’m- fihihine! But, your hahands…” Pav looked towards his back. Hobie followed his gaze and realized both of his hands were placed around his sides. A mischievous grin crossed Hobie’s face as his eyes flicked back to Pavitr’s face. Pav looked back at him with an adorable expression that just said “I can’t stop you, but I’m gonna try to look cute so you think about not doing it.” Hobie smirked and pinched the back of Pav’s neck, causing him to squeal and arch his neck back.

“Y’know, s’rude to laugh at your friends, Pav,” Hobie purred close to his friend’s ear. Pavitr let out a string of high pitched giggles and grabbed handfuls of the couch cushions beneath him.

“H-Hobieheehee! Wait wait wait! Lehehet’s talk! Dohohon’t- eek!” Pav snickered then squeaked as the older male skittered his long fingers directly up his spine.

“Nah, don’t fink I will. You need some good, ol’ fashioned, relaxation, mate. And I know exactly how to get you relaxed! So jus let big brova ‘Obie… getcha!” Hobie quickly grabbed Pavitr’s sides and squeezed, drinking in his girlish shriek. He laughed and wiggled his fingers into the slightly pudgy flesh. Pavitr thrashed in his lap but ultimately didn’t move from his spot. Just awkwardly pushed himself up before falling back down and beating the arm of the sofa senseless.

“Hohohohohohohohohohohohobieeeeeeeee! It tihihihihihihickles! It tihihihihihckles so bahahahahahahaaaaaad!” Pav whined through his laughs, alternating which side he scrunched up so he looked like a belly dancer. Hobie let out a loud ‘hah!’ when he saw this.

“Oh yeah, show off ya moves, Pav! Should I get a beat goin’? Unce, unce, unce, unce!” With every beat from his mouth, Hobie would do rhythmic squeezes on Pav’s sides. One, two, one one, two, one, two two. This drove the younger man up the wall (hee hee spiderman joke). Pavitr did his best to fight back. This included weak slapping on Hobie’s hands and futile attempts to crawl away. Hobie simply pulled him closer and tickled his ribs and armpits at the same time, switching between the two.

“AAAAAHAhahahahahaha! Hobieheeheeheeheeheeheehee! Pleheheheehehease!” Pavitr begged. Hobie smirked and scratched his rib bones, earning another girly shriek.

“Please wha, Pav? Please… keep ticklin’ ya? I can do that! Or is it please… tickle somewhere else? How about… here!” In a swift motion, Hobie moved his hands from his upper body to the back of his quads, making claws and digging into the flesh. Pavitr screamed and his thrashing renewed.

“Oh, has I found a tickle spot? Right under your buttocks, yea? Mate, that’s kinda embarrassin’. I ain’t one t’judge though. It's hilarious how much you’re tryin’ ta fight me, kiddo. Was it people say when they tickle kids? Oh, roight. Tic-kle tic-kle tic-kle~” Hobie grinned like the Cheshire cat as Pavitr lost his mind. Finally, Pavitr rolled off of Hobie’s lap and crashed to the ground, reflexively thwipping both of Hobie’s hands together.

“O-Ohohokay that's enohohough! I’m relahahaxed! No mohohohore plehehehehease!” Pavitr giggled out, lying flat on his back and sighing once the tickling was finally over. Hobie laughed and fished his pocket knife from his jacket, slicing the webbing from his hands. He tossed the knife on his coffee table and leaned over Pavitr without moving from his couch.

“You alright, yea?” he asked. With a few giggly breaths, Pav nodded. “Good. If I had killed ya, Gwendie would have killed me. ‘N ah don wan that. But seriously, mate, gotta go easy on the Spider-Man work, you feel me? ‘S why you’re so tense. If you keep dat up, y’won’t be able to move. You get what I’m sayin’, yeah? You’ve got an honest jam tart, an das good, just don’t be over usin’ it,” Hobie instructed. He could tell Pav was listening, which was good, but the younger man did cock his eyebrow at the last sentence.

“But… I don’t have a jam tart…?” he said with confusion, looking around to see if he had accidentally brought something jelly filled from his dimension. Hobie snickered then laughed, holding his stomach.

“You are way too funny, man. Go take a shower, you smell.”

“Not as bad as you…” Pavitr mumbled, immediately bolting for Hobie’s bathroom.

“Oi, the nerve of ya! Get back here, ya hooligan bastard!” Hobie was up in a flash, thwipping Pavitr to the floor.

Needless to say, Pavitr got another good taste of what having an older brother is like. And Hobie got to mess around with a best friend. He could get used to being the big brother every now and again.

[girlboybug]

trash magic

"boy, you wanna hold me down and tell me that you love me?"

or the one where you get a tattoo for joel and he shows you just how much he appreciates it.

what’s playing 🎧 trash magic by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x reader

word count : 2k

*unedited*

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, joel is sooo super turned on by your tattoo, size kink, overstimulation, mentions of unspecified age gap, unprotected sex, tit-fucking, lots of heavy petting/groping, praise and hints of degrading, joel is a dirty depraved man muahaha

TRIGGER WARNINGS : uhh none come to mind but if there’s something that is triggering plz let me know. otherwise enjoy <3

a/n : hi guys i’m so sorry it took me FOREVER to update, i just wanted to post smth small bc i felt bad abt my lack of presence on here. i wanna say thank u so much for the love and support on my work it means the absolute WORLD to me. life has just been so draining and writing has fallen to the back burner and i HATE it but here, i hope this slightly makes up for it, i promise i have a lot in store!!

it had been just a little over a month. a little over a month without joel was time spent cruelly—longingly. and in all honesty, most people in jackson wondered why you were so distraught over his lack of presence, unable to comprehend why a young, pretty girl spent all her time trailing behind a stone-faced old man. but he was your stone-faced old man. his hard glare, monotone responses and hands that were perpetually stuck in fists, were all aspects you loved about him, despite the fact that they seemed to act as a wall to block everyone out.  but what people didn’t realize was that those walls came right back down the second it came to you. 

you figured their judgment lied in the point of view that they had of him. they only saw cold joel, unfriendly joel who had zero time for anyone except ellie and, maybe you. but they didn't see the way he was when you were alone. they didn’t see the way his face would drop all its coldness when he'd look at you, his fists following in suit and unraveling into gentle hands that would tighten around your jaw to pull you up for a kiss. instead, all they saw was a hardened old man leading on some girl young enough to be his daughter. 

and even if he was, you didn't care. it was hard to care about anything when he'd press his mouth over yours, enveloping you in and cleansing you of everything you've ever worried about the second his tongue pushed past your lips. you replayed the way his scruff felt against your skin, your bare tummy…your inner thighs. you squirmed around in the booth at the tipsy bison, ignoring the comments about how you're going to regret getting the tattoo that you did, how joel is nice and all, but he's the last guy you should be getting a tattoo for. 

you didn’t fucking care, the only thing that you did care about was how he would feel about it. and god, you hoped he liked it. you are definitely not one to handle pain all that well, and with the limited supplies cat had after tattooing ellie, you were extra nervous of all that could go wrong. but you missed joel so much, you needed something, anything, that felt like a piece of him was always with you. 

the moth sticker on the neck of his guitar always did catch your eye, and when he was gone, you’d cradle his guitar, hold it the way he would and simply stare at the sticker. you imagined him the day he stuck it on, the way he’d look down at it, and maybe even smile to himself. it made your heart just about ache at the image. 

you grew antsy to show joel the more you thought about it, but maintained what little patience you had left. you decided to keep it a surprise until you both got home, feeling as though the reveal was something that deserved to be private for you two alone. 

—

“i have a surprise for you.” you whispered excitedly, clambering into his lap. he smiled up at you, pushing his glasses into his hair and shutting his book. his eyes fell to your fingers that slowly took their time unbuttoning each little button on the flannel that…suspiciously looks a whole lot like the one that went missing from his side of the closet. 

“that so?” he hummed in that low gruff voice of his, a hot feeling stirring in his lower stomach as he watched the flannel begin to part the lower you went. 

“mhm. i hope you like it.” you murmured, swallowing hard when you pulled the flannel open. his eyes lingered on yours for a moment before traveling down to the valley of your breasts, gasping when he saw a moth decorating your skin. 

“are you out your goddamn mind?” joel exhaled in disbelief, tracing his fingers over the moth splayed across your sternum. 

your hands gripped the fabric of your flannel, fingernail rolling over the button with nerves. “are you…are you mad?” you unintentionally whimpered, and he shook his head, sitting up with you in his lap, leaning forward and pulling his glasses back down to look at it better. “no baby no but, i…i coulda given you the sticker i had,” he laughed, unable to peel his eyes off of the tattoo. you rolled your eyes jokingly but in the back of your mind, fear was starting to settle in. 

did he hate it?  

“do you like it?” you asked quietly, praying he said yes. “oh, baby i love it,” he uttered heavily, bringing his stare from your chest up to your face. he pulled you by your chin, smile still on his lips while he kissed you. you cupped his face, thumbs circling around the stubble on his jaw, a giddy feeling beginning to bubble in your tummy. 

“did it hurt?” he questioned with his lips still close to yours. you nodded, pecking him. “yeah. but i just thought of you the whole time,” you admitted truthfully, smiling fondly down at him. he shook his head, kissing you again. he made a sound of sympathy, running his thumb along your bottom lip. he stared at your chest before something clicked in him, making him flip you on your back.

he wasn’t phased by the surprised yelp that left you, instead he was focused on stopping your hands from trying to hide your bare chest with the flannel. “unh unh don’t cover up now, too pretty to be doin that,” he chastised lowly, devouring you with his eyes. you grew hot under him as he continued speaking. “looks so good on you…real good, wish i was there with ya while you got it done baby,” he groaned, hands groping your breasts, thumbs straying to caress the wings of the moth. 

you whined hushedly, arching your back into his touch. “i do too but you were gone,” you formed something like a pout, pushing an upset finger into his chest. he tsked, holding your accusatory hand to kiss your palm. “i know, i know, already said m’sorry baby,” he murmured, taking advantage of the way you softened at his actions. he trailed kisses down your jaw, murmuring more apologies for his absences. his words were enough, and all you could do was just lean into him, taking every touch and kiss he gave you happily. 

“can’t believe you did this,” he breathed out, pressing his growing bulge to your clothed core. you whined, sitting up on your elbows. your ankles lock around him eyeing him from under your eyelashes. “i just wanted to feel like you were always with me, i missed you so much joel,”

he breathed in sharply at your confessions, his cock twitching and heart racing. “oh baby,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead lovingly. “missed you too. thought about you all the time.” his hand rubbed your outer thigh making its way between your legs. “thought abt this,” he exhaled, feeling you buck down into his palm with a sweet little moan from your lips. 

“missed it s’goddamn much, missed you the most though,” he muttered, the familiar twange in his voice sparking a smile across your face. he pushed your panties to the side, gathering your slick with the pads of his fingers, his cockhead weeping with precum when it registered just how wet you were with such small touches. 

he pushed his middle finger in and wasted no time in fucking you with his digit just the way you liked. you cried out, gripping his wrist while he fucked into your little cunt with his finger, groaning to himself at how tight you felt. 

he leaned down, kissing all over the tattoo, licking and nipping at your breasts while you tangled your fingers in his hair. 

“joel—fuck, just, just—please fuck me,” you breathed out, the patience you’d been struggling to keep had finally ran out, and you couldn’t wait anymore, you needed to have him the way you’ve been craving all this time. “shit—alright, need it tha’ bad huh,” he grunted, pulling himself from out his boxers. 

he held your waist with both large hands of his, pushing inside you, burying his face in your chest and groaning loudly at the way you grip him. you cried out, nails digging into his wide back, teeth grazing his shoulder while you tried to catch your breath. 

the stretch burned and tingled, rippling through your skin and nerves in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. he pushed in and out of you slowly and gently, shaky little breaths that sounded obscene, fanned out over your lips from his parted mouth, and you breathed them all in, pulling him in closer. 

his forehead rested on yours, kissing you while his hips grounded down into yours, taking his time to appreciate how fucking good you felt all around him. utterances of f-fuck, baby poured into your mouth from his, casting a warm sensation to spread across your cheeks. 

he rocked into you, somehow going deeper with every thrust. knowing that he was filling you to the very brim sent him into a mindless delirium, and in return fastening the way he fucked you. gentleness morphed into rushed, desperation to feel you, every single inch and crevice and to make up for lost time. 

you took him in, tightening your calves around his lower back, tugging at the back of his hair while his tongue lapped at your tits and sternum, losing his mind at the fact that you’ve marked yourself as his with this moth. your bold declaration of love and dedication to him turned him on in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom and the more he thought about it, the harder his hips crashed down into yours. 

“missed me so much you had to get something that reminded you of me tattooed on ya’,” he grunted, grabbing one of your legs and haphazardly throwing it over his shoulder, shuffling even closer to fuck you harder. you couldn’t even reply correctly, all you could do was tearfully babble, nodding stupidly. 

“love you so much joel,” you hiccuped, entire body being nearly fucked into the headboard, tits bouncing mesmerizingly with each thrust joel sends into you. 

“say it again,” he groaned, cock twitching at your open admissions. “i love you, love you love you so much,” you cried, leg beginning to tremble on top of his shoulder. 

“‘love you too baby, love you so goddamn much,” he breathed out in a rasp, shuddering a heavy sigh when you tighten and pulse all around his cock. 

he loved the way his hands just engulfed you, his hand almost covering the entirety of one of your breasts, palming your soft flesh. you were so easy to squeeze, to pick up and hold and fuck, and joel took full advantage of his strength and how palpable for him you were. 

with ease he pulled you up along with him, still impaled on his fat cock, feeling a familiar cockiness spread in his chest when you whimpered at the feeling of him so far inside of you. 

he rested on his haunches, keeping you upright with his hands gripping your hips tight, face falling into your chest once more, his beard tucking the valley of your breasts. 

your bodies flowed into each other’s fluidly, hips rolling and meeting each and every thrust like clockwork, his hips coming up only to be met with yours crashing down into his. it was addicting, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could barely even remember your own name, the only thing you could manage was fucking yourself onto joel. 

“so deep,” you cried out through a series of whines and he laughed, bringing a big hand to your tummy, rubbing over where his cock bulged. you keened, lips trembling while you squeezed his shoulders. “i know baby i know,” he crooned, plastering an open mouth kiss onto you. 

he slid a hand between your wet grinding bodies to rub circles over your soaked little clit, chuckling to himself when you choked on a sob at the contact. you shook like a leaf in his arms, his sweet little angel so close, he felt it in the way your cunt gripped his cock, and it filled him with pride knowing he was the only one who could unravel you like this. 

“know you needa cum baby—you gonna ask me?” he growled in your mouth, biting your bottom lip testingly. you whimpered, arching your chest into his, a little pathetic nod following your actions. “s-sorry joel, please please let me cum, feels so good i-i dunno if i can hold it,” you whimpered, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. 

the swirls from his fingers over your clit persisted and it made you vibrate in his hold, your impending orgasm making you lose what little control you had over your own body. 

“c’mon baby give it to me, cum all over it,” he grunted gruffly, and you shook wildly, squeezing your eyes shut and collapsing in his arms while your orgasm reverberated all throughout your limbs  

“joel—oh my—fuck!” you sobbed, bouncing on his cock while you rode out your orgasm, feeling milked dry as he rubbed your clit into over sensitivity. 

“good baby, so fuckin’ good,” he drawled out lowly, patting your poor abused clit with his long fingers. “wanna do somethin’ for me?” he panted and you nodded eagerly. 

“lie back for me,” he ordered and you obeyed, laying back down onto the pillows beneath you. he begrudgingly pulled out of your tight cunt, shushing you when you whimpered at the loss of him inside you. 

he straddled you, feeling his cock ache in his rough palm when you stared up at him, resting on your elbows, cute tits perked and barely concealed from his flannel. 

he shoved the material away from your flesh, jerking himself off before he put it between your tits. “push ‘em together f’me—ahh shit, y-yeah just like that—oh shit baby, keep lookin at me like that—“ he growled under his breath, fucking your tits with hard pistons from his hips. 

“gonna cum, gonna cum on these cute fuckin’ tits baby,” he groaned, throwing his head back while you egged him on, whimpering and squeezing your thighs together at how he used your chest to cum, it was so hot seeing him fall apart on top of you, looking glorious and gorgeous even in such dirty circumstances. 

you wrapped your lips around his leaking cockhead, the corners of your mouth peeking upwards with smugness at the way he gasped and shivered at your actions. “shit,” he groaned, his own orgasm taking over his body. 

he came in your mouth, your tits still engulfing his shaft. he twitched on your tongue, whimpering to himself at the way you sucked on his tip. he pulled himself away from your plump lips, starting to soften from how sensitive he was. 

he laid beside you, pulling you into his arms once more, feeling content and right with the world when you nestled into your rightful place on his chest. 

“still in awe over you.” he murmured, running his fingertips up and down your arm. “you’ll get used to the tattoo soon,” you giggled and he shook his head. “meant you…you as a whole baby.” he whispered and you looked up at him, pupils dilating into hearts. “joel,” you uttered, leaning up to kiss him. “i love you,” you mumbled sleepily. he smiled, kissing your clammy forehead. “i love you too baby.” 

[icebear4president]

Short angst fic I wrote in an hour!

Characters: Canada and America

Word count: 903

"He never loved me."

Matthew eyed the empty bottles thrown haphazardly across the room, and back again to his brother slumped against the wall. It was an unusual sight to say the least. Alfred didn't get drunk. Or least to the point where he was barely functioning. He had always been the more paranoid of the two, the one who talked about the dangers of letting his guard down.

It was sad in a way, really.

“He likes me, sure," Alfred continued, talking more to himself than anyone else. Matthew wasn't even sure he knew he was there. "Likes who I am, likes the man I turned out to be. Likes the idea of me as a son."

Matthew's eyebrows shot up in surprise at that. He thought his brother was talking about a friend, a lover maybe. Not...this.

"I think he liked raising me. I think he liked-" Alfred sighed, banging his head against the wall. "Liked the earlier days, being my big brother, liked how it felt not having to be alone anymore. Having someone to take care of, you know? I think he liked the thought of saving me from the same loneliness he felt or some other bullshit excuse like that."

Alfred nudged a piece of glass on the floor, idly swishing the liquid in his bottle back and forth. "I think he needs me, but I don't think he loves me."

What was the right response to that? 'Sorry you feel like that' or 'Grow up and stop whining about the past'? Both sounded right and horribly wrong at the same time. This was something deeper, deeper than Matthew could possibly understand He wasn't really sure how he felt about that.

Another thing Alfred and Arthur shared that he would never get to be a part of.

As for now, the only thing Matthew could really think was 'holy shit'. He'd always known Arthur hadn't really cared about him, or at least loved him deep enough, in a way that never had to have excuses for it to be known. But he'd thought...he'd thought if Arthur could find it in his heart to ever love anyone, that, well, it would be Alfred.

"But I can't hate him," Alfred said. "I mean, I love him. He's my dad. But he doesn't, doesn't, love me back."

Alfred finally looked up at Matthew, eyes glazed over, but still analyzing Matthew in a way that made him squirm. "Don't think he ever loved me back, but you. I think he loved you at some point. Maybe still does. You're Matthew after all. Sweet, wonderful, perfect Matthew, the golden child," Alfred spat. "Everyone loves you, and they hate me."

And suddenly Matthew's throat was so painfully constricted, he briefly wondered if he swallowed glass. It was unsettling seeing his brother look at him with so much anger, borderline hate. Except that wasn't right, it was Matthew who should be angry, not the other way around. Alfred didn't have that right. Alfred who had everything.

Right?

Ignoring his brother's internal turmoil, Alfred continued his rant no longer paying attention to him. "He loved that damned pedal stool, the one he put me on, show me off to the world as his best creation." Bitter smile hard with empty amusement, he raised a half-empty bottle. "Alfred Kirkland, best damn soldier there ever was."

Matthew wanted to sock him in the jaw, or flat out run away. He did neither.

Alfred tried to take another swig, but his hands didn't seem to want to cooperate with each other, and he fumbled with both hands until he dropped the bottle altogether. It was sad, really, to see him reduced to this.

And Matthew watched, helplessly, as his little brother started to cry.

"I just don't get it, Mattie." Alfred rubbed a hand against his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. “Why doesn't he love me? What did I do wrong?"

Alfred was much, much too out of it to care about platitudes, which was a small mercy since Matthew had none to give. So instead, he sat on the floor besides his brother. And before he could even attempt the hesitantly reach out with an awkward one-armed hug, Alfred tipped over and slumped against him, clumsily grabbing at his jacket.

"I love you, Mattie," Alfred muttered into the fabric. "Love you so, so much, and I'm sorry Arthur doesn't love us."

Matthew wrapped his arms around him in what had to be the weakest, shittiest hug ever. He couldn't even remember a time when they'd properly hugged each other. They were more the type to insult each other, hit each other, or maybe awkwardly say they loved each other before conveniently having to leave at the same time.

"Hey," Alfred said, face brightening. "At least you got other people who love you. Got the whole world. Lucky, lucky you." He chuckled. "You're not the only one who wants to switch places."

Matthew choked on a laugh-sob. "Sure, Al, if you say so."

Alfred looked troubled for all of three seconds before he forgot his train of thought completely. "This jacket makes you comfy. Like a comfy leather couch. I'm gonna take a nap and you can't stop me."

"Okay," Matthew said, for lack of a better response.

It was only after he heard his brother's soft breathing that he let himself begin to cry.

[shelby-fangirl00]

1919-Part Six

 Hellooooo :) This chapter is a bit of...vanilla smut? lol I wanted Tommy to be soft with Jas for the first time tehe :) Let me know what you think!!!       

Warnings: smut   (MINORS DNI)

word count: 5741      

‘How’s married life treating ya?’ I smiled at Esme, who was sitting across from me at one of the empty tables in the betting shop connected to the house. It was the end of the day and all the men had cleared out to the Pubs. 

Esme had been staying with us for about a week now. Soon, John and her would be set up in a house. For the next couple of weeks, they’d still be with us. I was enjoying her company quite a lot. She would drink all of our men under the table and wasn’t afraid to give her two cents about business the boys were involved in. 

I admired this about her. I was different from her in that way. I didn’t give a shit about any of the business the boys got involved with. After all of these years around the Shelby’s, I’ve learned that the less I know, the better.

All I cared about was the family, they were what I wanted to protect. 

‘Oh, it’s treating me very well, Jasmine. I can barely stan’up in the mornin’s.’ He’s like a damn dog! Fucker can’t stop humpin.’ She giggled out and gave me a soft smile. 

‘I wouldn’t see a better way to spend the first week’of marriage, yeh? I chuckled, leaning back against the wooden chair, crossing my legs. 

‘Jasmine… do ya miss livin with gypsy folk? She almost whispered out, slightly leaning over the table now.

Her big brown eyes peered into mine with the most longing look on her face. 

I studied her for a moment and sighed. I knew this would happen. 

‘I do live with gypsy folk, Esme.’ 

‘Ya know what I mean. Living out in the countryside with ya family. I’ve neva lived in a place with so many brick walls surroundin me.’ She said shyly, dropping her head down towards her lap. She almost seemed ashamed of herself for saying it out loud.  

I grabbed her hands from across the table and peered at her with the most compassion and sincerity. 

‘Listen, I long for it…quite a lot of the time actually. Life doesn’t always pan out like ya’d think. But we will always have a home out there, it aint goin any where.’

 I looked behind my shoulder to see if anyone was listening. I lowered my voice to a whisper. 

‘And someday…if we play our cards right, we will return. But for now, this is our future, and the future is good, love. Just be patient. John loves ya, that’s what really matters, yeh?’ I said to her. 

She gave me a soft smile and a quiet nod. She had tears welling up in her eyes. 

‘Oh, love…’ I started to walk around the table to embrace her. She felt like a little sister to me already. Her skin was warm pressed against mine and I could feel her racing heart through her chest. 

I rubbed her back gently and she rested her head onto my shoulder. I stood there holding her for a few moments, knowing that this was sometimes just what people needed, rather than talking. She was still a sweet little girl at heart who needed a woman in her life now that her mother wasn’t around as much. I wanted to be that for her. 

‘Ladies, how are we?’ Tommy coughed out as he strutted into the betting shop. He’d been gone most of the day doing God knows what. 

I looked up at him as Esme was still hugging me. 

He stared at me as to ask if everything was alright. 

I gave him a look back, telling him with my eyes that she was fine. 

‘Just fine, Tom. How’d the day treat ya?’ I asked him, releasing Esme with a squeeze to the shoulders. She quickly wiped her face and turned to busy her eyes with anything other than Tom’s gaze. 

‘I’ve had worse days’ is all he gave me as a response, avoiding my eyes. 

I couldn’t help but to wonder if he had a boring day with boring business men or if he had visited Lizzie during his day away. 

I was getting so many mixed signals from Tommy. We haven’t talked about what was going on between us, but he sometimes seemed interested. Other times though, he seemed…distant, like he was trying to avoid me. It was so hot and cold. 

One day, he would ask me to go to the stables with him or have a drink. The next day, he wouldn’t even look in my direction. 

‘Right, Esme, I do believe I promised John that you’d meet him at the Pub soon. Want me to walk with ya?’

Her face brightend up a bit at this. 

‘See ya, Tom.’ I said to him curtly, walking past him with Esme by my side. If he was going to mess with my head, I would just stop giving him any attention at all. 

                                                  ---

I was sitting at the bar, cranng my neck to view John and Esme, who were cuddling up in one of the large red booths across from me. 

I watched as they laughed and then talked seriously at certain moments. They looked at each other with such comfort and longing. They complimented each other so well it nearly made me sick. 

Turning back around, I stared into my half empty glass. 

I was furious with the person I had become. I never wanted to be a woman so consumed by the heartbreaking feeling of longing for an unattainable man. I decided that he had become unattainable to me, at least.

I never liked the type of girls that they wrote about in books or the girls in Small Heath who would do anything just to be loved or wanted by a man. Of course, it is nice to be wanted, but it all seemed only achievable inside of those story books. My body betrays me more and more the longer I am around Tommy. I was completely consumed by this indescribable feeling. 

I get through my days, doing the same things, taking care of Finn or spending time with Curly and Gleam.

But the center of my mind is where he resides. He is always there with me, taunting me with his soft, large hands; The way he held a cigarette between his fingers and draws it from his lips. 

The way he enters a room, and everyone straightens their backs, even me. He holds the entire room up with his large presence. 

His eyes held a power of their own, separate from Tommy completely. It was like they had a little magic inside of them, giving them the ability to intimidate, to bring people at ease, to seduce. 

Just the way he opened his mouth and talked, which I wish he would do more of. The pronunciation of his words; cold and collected, but also making you intrigued with thoughts like whats his angle?

Then I thought of the parts I hadn’t seen in a very long time that must be different now. He had a smaller frame when I was in his bed. He was a tender lover back then and was careful with me. He moved slower.

Now, I’m not so sure what he was. His shoulders seemed broader in his shirts, less fragile now. I wondered if he was still tender…though, I doubted it. Everything else had changed about him, so why wouldn’t have this?

I hated the feeling of being so lonely and only wanting one other person to fill the emptiness in me…but I don’t think that person exists anymore. How is it possible to want something so bad that doesn’t even exists now? 

I didn’t understand how I could still feel empty inside when I was surrounded by so much love. I was so greatful for my life and it was shameful the way I was feeling. 

‘Oh, come on, talk to me.’ Polly said as she took a seat on the bar stool next to me. She crossed her bare legs and faced me, leaning her elbows onto the bar. 

I stared at her for a few seconds, becoming emotional knowing that it was now obvious the way I was feeling, at least to Pol. She knew me too well.

‘I…I don’t even know what to say Pol.’ I sighed out, looking down into my lap. 

She stared me down, giving me that signitaure smirk she liked to give people when she had them figured out. 

Tears started to pool in my eyes and my lips started to quiver, trying to reel my tears back inside. The face of the woman who saved me from myself. Took responsibility for me after mum died, and taught me so much in just half a year. Taught me things my mother was too far gone to teach me herself. 

I shattered under her gaze, the water in my eyes pushing past my lids, wetting my hot red cheeks. 

She just sighed loudly, grabbing my hand in hers gently. 

‘I love you and I love my life here. I love it still, even with the boys here. Fuck, I don’t know! Everything is so complicated now. I was fine without them here and now--’

‘Without HIM here, you mean?’ She corrected me.  

‘Yes, without him here! I was ok and me fuckin head wasn’t all…. mushed-up, ya know? I hate that my mind is occupied by a bloody man.’ I spat out, my voice low as if someone was listening in.                       

Polly just laughed and shook her head as she took a drag from her cigarette. 

‘For Christs sake love, you’re neglecting yourself! Ya have needs, do ya not?’ He laughed out.

I rolled my eyes at this. I knew what she was hinting at.

‘Pol, that’s the fucking problem! If I could, I would. But, its fucking Tom, Pol. It took me long enough to get over him when he left and now...I crumbled at the first sight of him. I don’t want anyone else now. I think the fucka’ cursed me.’

‘I wouldn’t put it past him, can’t imagine he’d like to share.’ 

She paused and studied me. 

‘I know ya don’t want to hear it, but hes not the same man. But it doesn’t mean his love for you is gone. You both have too much history here to just forget about. Youre not the type to sit and dwell. Be honest with him, love. Don’t let him hide himself from you any longer.’ 

She was right,  like always.  Maybe I should confront him head on or maybe I should try to understand and love this new man.

                                                     ----

         Once again, I had gotten myself drunk at the pub, partially my own fault, but mostly the girls, Esme, Ada and Pol. We had been sitting at the pub all night. I was having fun though, being around all the women in my life, my lifelong sisters now. At least, I tried to tell myself that. I’m not a Shelby though; the odd one out of the bunch. 

‘Right, well I’m sneaking out of here before Tom catches the sight of me.’ Ada sighed out and stood up, putting on her heavy fur coat. 

She had been sneaking off to stay with Freddie Thorne every night. She didn’t want Tommy to find out though, he would never approve of his little sister fucking one of his old friends. 

My eyebrows raised at the mention of Tom being at the bar. I hadn’t even known he was here. 

‘Tommy’s here already?’ I questioned all of them.

‘Not yet, should be here any minute now, though.’ Pol stated, glancing at the entrance of the Pub. 

‘Alright, I’ll see ya tomorrow morning yeh?’ I asked, touching her arm. 

She squeezed my extended hand with a goodbye and nodded yes. 

As she walked out, I turned back to face the bar, pulling a cigarette out from behind my ear and lighting it. 

Just as I did, someone sat down beside me. 

‘I’d offer yeh a drink, but you always drink for free here, right?’ 

‘Archie!!! Fucking hell, what are you doing here!?’

I stood and threw my arms around his neck. He stood as well, lifting me as he did so and spun me around, making my legs lift off the ground. I giggled as he released me. 

Archie was an old friend of mine… he was someone I also fucked every now and then too, but it wasn’t really ever more than that. He was always a good friend and he was quite handsome as well. Arch wasn’t from here, though. He moved here with his mother about two years after the boys left for France. 

He started working in one of the factories in town. Ada knew everyone who showed up to town and made friendly with them if they were close to us in age. Long story short, we had been keeping each other company on and off for two years. 

I hadn’t seen Archie for a few months now. He had gone away for a while to his grandmothers in Camden Town. He must’ve just arrived home. 

‘Oh Arch, it’s so good to see ya! How was your trip?’ I asked him, sitting back down and pouring him a whiskey from my bottle. Pol and Esme gave Archie a smile and a nod as they knew his face. He always got caught sneaking out in the mornings from the house before the boys were here. He’d never get away with that while they were here. 

He looked particularly handsome tonight, his blonde hair gelled back. He was quite tall…I had forgotten about that. His kind brown eyes rested on my lips as I talked. 

‘I’m just grand Jasmine! The trip was alright but I’m happy to be back.’ He said as he threw back his whiskey. 

We sat there chatting for a few minutes about his trip and what I had been up to. He looked at me with a look I knew too well. He came here for a reason. He wanted me to go home with him. 

‘So…what do ya say…come home with me?’ He placed his hand on my thigh and inched his face closer, attempting to whisper something in my ear. I turned my head slighty to allow him to do so. 

Just as he leaned into me, I lifted my eyes to look up at the bar. My eyes turned wide as they caught Tommy’s gaze. He was standing in the doorframe from behind the bar, his eyes were burning through me, but his face was stone cold. 

I couldn’t help but smirk at him in a mischevious way, enjoying the thought of him being jealous.

‘You were looking especially lonely just before I sat down, ya know? I can help with that…’ He whispered lowly, sending a shiver down my spine. Not because of Archie’s words, but because of the way Tommy was looking at me with another man. I could practically see the anger steaming off of him. His jaw clenching up at the sight of me. 

I couldn’t lie, I would’ve gone home with him if it wasn’t for my new found and unspoken devotion to Tommy. I didn’t want anyone but him. I wanted to wantto fuck Archie, but I know I couldn’t. I would just think of Tom and that wasn’t fair to Archie. He was a good man. 

I broke the contact with Tommy to look back up at Archie. 

‘Archie, I’d love to, I really would, but I can’t tonight, love. Another time?’ I gave him a sympathetic smile. 

He studied me for a moment and then gave me a small smile back before taking another swig from his glass. He didnt question me further, which I appreciated.

‘Will ya walk me outside? I’ve gotta get home here soon.’ I asked him and he happily obliged. Tom had disappeared from behind the bar.

                                                      ---

I stumbled into the dark and empty house. Everyone was still at the pub. I was so over the night and I needed to sleep it all off. As I walked up the stairs, I noticed Tom’s door was cracked open and a candle was flickering about, lighting up a corner of his small room. 

I barged in without thinking. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, stripped down to his baggy, white night shirt and his boxers. He looked up at me, face still expressionless. 

‘What was that all about then?’ I asked defensively, raising my voice slighty. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, making a confused expression. 

‘I could ask you the same thing. What was -that all about Jas?’ 

He mocked back a me, his voice calmer than my own. 

I chuckled at this and rolled my eyes. 

‘That is Archie. He moved here 2 years ago.’ 

‘And you’ve obviously been fucking him, eh?’ He spat out. I could sense the irritation in his voice. 

‘Yes Tommy, on occasion, we fuck. He’s a good friend of mine and Ada. Alright?’

‘But not tonight?’

I was silent for a moment while my arms were crossed over my chest, standing above him in his doorway. 

‘Not anymore, no.’ I mumbled quietly, avoiding his eyes and looking at the wooden floor under me.

‘Yeh? Not anymore? Why is that?’

At this point I was bubbling up inside with something close enough to anger. I cannot believe he would have the nerve to ask me that. I wasn’t fucking anyone anymore thanks to him. 

My hands balled into fists and my back straightened. 

‘No. Fuck off Tom. You sit there, asking me 1000 fuckin questions ya know the answers to. I gotta fuckin spell it out for ya, is that it?’

When he completely ignored my question, I stopped to study Tom’s demeanor. He was stiff, stiffer than usual. I could practically see the tension coming off his chest and back. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes either. I wondered what he was up to.

I sighed loudly and made my way over to sit next to him on the bed. 

‘You are as stiff as a board Thomas, everything alright?’ I said shyly, wondering if I had upset him.

He studied the palm of his hands with a defeated look on his face, his mind clearly somewhere else. I was so curious of his mind and what was always holding his attention. 

‘Just can’t get any rest…I’m just tired is all, Jas.’ He said lowly, placing a friendly hand on my knee as to reassure me. I wasn’t so convinced. 

‘Of course, you can’t sleep when youre practically clenching. Let me help.’ I said as I collected myself onto my knees and scooted behind Thomas on his bed, his back facing me. I reluctantly placed my hands on his tight shoulders and began to gently kneed at them, pushing my thumbs into his thick skin, the fabric of his shirt bunching up under my fingers. He jumped at my first gesture to sooth his back.

‘Just relax for me, yeh?’ I leaned over as I worked and whispered into his ear, almost touching my lips to his skin. 

As my hands went to work on his shoulders and neck, I felt his hard body slowly soften under my touch. He let out a few soft and low huffs and groans, a sign that I was doing something right.

‘Fucking Christ, that feels so good…’ He sighed out. I could tell that he was enjoying this which made me enjoy it even more.

I giggled at his honesty. It felt so good to make Tommy feel good, even if it was just in this innocent way. 

I let my hands kneed at his shoulder blades and eventually down his spine, stopping at the top of his waist. 

‘Jesus, how are you walking around like this? You must be uncomfortable all the time, no?’ I asked him.

He leaned over his knees as I worked down his spine, giving me better access and allowing him to become a bit more undone under my hands. 

‘I feel fucking grand right now, does that count for something?’ He chuckled out from in his lap.

His eyes fluttered shut as he let me have full range of his upper body. He was completely relaxed under my touch. 

I was dying to feel his bare skin under his night shirt; to see his freckled-covered back.

After a little bit longer of this, I decided to break the contact. 

‘Alright, I better leave you to it then, try to get some sleep Tommy.’ I said with a small smile. 

As I attempted to move from the bed, he turned and gently grabbed my wrist. 

My heart froze at the contact. 

‘Stay here with me tonight.’ He practically commanded.

I paused for a moment, studying the warmth that had returned to his eyes. 

Before I could give him an answer, he layed down on his side and pulled me by my waist to lay in his arms. 

I was still in my long skirt and blouse, unlike Tommy who was only in a thin shirt and boxers. 

I happily obliged, snuggling my face into his warm chest. He wrapped his muscular arms around me and held me there, our heartbeats finally beating together at a steady rhythm. I was engulfed completely by his scent. My stomach was doing dances and I couldn’t help but smile as Tommy had become softer than usual tonight.

I placed my hands on his chest and played with the top buttons on his shirt, dying to see the man underneath it. 

I watched as his chest rose and fell over and over again in such a way that made my heart nearly stop. 

His hands caressed my back slowly and slightly. He ran his rough fingers up and down my spine, making me shiver. I hadn’t felt this close to him in a very long time. This is all I needed. I could survive off of his touch alone. I didn’t need anything else but Tommy in that moment. 

His hands slowly began to run down my body, lower and lower down my back each time he caressed up and down. He eventually made contact with the back of my skirt, hiking it up slowly. 

I quivered with excitement, hoping he wouldn’t stop. 

‘Take all of this off Jasmine. I want to touch your skin.’ He said, continuing to breath calmy while my heart was beating out of my chest at this point. 

As he let the words fall out of his mouth, he reached his hands up to to my chest and slowly unbuttoned the buttons on my dark blouse. As he did this, I watched him watch my shirt fall open. His eyes grew heavy and his lips parted open. He ran his hands over my shoulders and pushed the shirt down my arms slowly. 

Then he finally kissed me. His kiss was soft at first but then became more needy. My hands involuntaryily went to cup his face while his tongue explored my mouth and his hands explored my body. Eventually, my body took over and I couldn’t stop what I was doing, I needed him. Both of our hands were everywhere. Softs moans and sighs leaving both of our mouths as he deepened the kiss. 

His mouth left mine, but quickly found a new home on my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as he sucked and bit at me. I let my hands fall from his face to his chest, down his stomach, stopping at the hem of his boxers. Our bodies were pressed together and I could feel him harden from underneath the thin fabric covering his bottom half. 

I let my hands fall to touch his cock for the first time in years. I had forgotten the size of this man. Without even looking, I could feel how large he was in my hand as I pushed past his boxers and making direct contact with his cock. 

He inhaled sharply at the sudden touch. I looked up into his eyes as I continued to gently stroke his hard cock. He was staring right back into my eyes, devouring the sight of me.

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and pulled it away from him, stopping the contact.. 

I looked up at him in confusion. 

‘You don’t want this?’ I asked shyly, feeling a little embarrassed by my forwardness. 

He chuckled softly before climbing on top of me. I was just in my panties and bra now. I wrapped my legs around his as he lifted up to his knees and finally pulling his shirt off. 

He was more than I had dreamed about. His soft freckles were still present, but they were now accompanied by little cuts and scars that were unfamiliar to me. 

He was definitely larger and more muscular than before. He had some new tattoos now that I didn’t expect, but quickly fell in love with. As he lowered down over me, I wrapped my legs around his waist and let my hands roam his body. I let my fingers trace over the new tattoo on his chest with excitement. 

‘I like these, they suit you very well.’ I giggled out softly as I touched the new tattoo and the new scars splattered on him. 

‘Even these scars you like?’ he asked softly, smiling down tenderly at me.  

‘Yes…especially those. I might like you better this way.’ I said to him. 

He stopped as I said this and he studied my face as I studied his. He was thinking about something, but I didn’t know what. He didn’t move for a minute, just hovering over my body, breathing into me. I finally reached my hand up to his face to bring him back down to reality, smiling at him. I finally saw his eyes return to me in the moment. 

As he kissed me roughly, he let his hands fall in between my legs and I let out a small gasp. 

He used his pointer finger to moved my panties over to the side, exposing my most intimate parts to him once again. He looked down at me, dipping his fingers down and sliding them over my folds.  He brough his fingers up to show me my own wetness before placing his finger in his mouth and sucking off my juices. 

‘Always so wet for me, is that right? Such a good girl.’ He said devilishly, a crooked grin spreading across his face. 

‘Only for you Tommy.’ I sighed out, desperate for him to touch me again. 

His eyes sparkled at this and he smiled again. 

Just as he did, he pushed my legs off of his waist and pressed my knees up to my stomach, exposing every inch of myself to Tommy. 

His eyes went wild with desire as he marvelled at my swollen folds that were trying to hide my now protruding clit. My wetness was dripping down my ass, onto the bed sheets. 

He dipped his head down between my legs, his arms still pressing my legs back in order for him to attack my clit easily. With no hesitation, his mouth connected with my pink, swollen nub and I couldn’t help but cry out under him. 

Thank God nobody was home. 

 He worked at my clit, relentlessly sucking and flicking, lapping up the wetness pouring out from me. 

‘Fuck Tommy, I can’t hold on for long, please….’

I pushed my hands into his hair, softly pulling at it. He stared up at me, loving the view of my panties pressed to the side and having me under his total control. 

I felt a familiar feeling start to build up through my core, a feeling a haven’t felt in a very long time, which made me nervous. I was slightly embarrassed of cumming in front of him like this. This time, he was trying to make me scream. 

‘Tommy…you have to stop…It’s too much, I can’t’-

‘Yes, you can. Just let go for me, love. Let go of that feeling again.’ He said softly, still attacking me with his tongue. 

His words sent me into another dimension, one where I wasn’t able to hide from him any longer, finally coming completely undone on his mouth. 

My back lifted up and arched off the bed slightly, I let out loud, animalistic sound, my body convulsing and shaking as he punished my clit. 

Finally, my body relaxed again and he released his grip on me, coming up to kiss me roughly.

‘That wasn’t so bad was it then?’ He joked. 

I needed more though. I needed him to fuck me right now. I could not wait any longer. 

‘Please Tommy, I need you inside of me.’ I sighed out, feeling like I was going to burst into flames if he didn’t fuck me.

He smiled down from above me, his eyes filled with lust, his dick was hard and ready for me. 

I lifted myself up slightly to roughly pull off Tommy’s boxers. As I slid them down, his long cock sprung free, nearly slapping the bottom of his stomach. 

I swallowed harshly, realizing that he was about to leave me sore after this. 

I stared for what seemed like minutes at his member. 

He lifted his hand up to my face letting his thumb run over my bottom lip. 

‘Say it again.’ He commanded lowly, his eyes turning darker. 

‘Please Tommy, please fuck me.’ I whispered while his hand was still on my mouth. 

With that and without leaving my eyes, he positioned himself at my opening, sliding his dick over my folds, collecting my slickness onto the tip of his dick, teasing my entrance over and over again as he barely entered my opening. 

I groaned as I grew impatient with him. 

‘What was that?’ He said harshly as he stopped rubbing against me. 

‘Stop teasing, Tommy!’ I moaned out. 

He chuckled before realigning himself at my hole, pushing past the barrier, making both of us gasp. 

As he continued to push and push and push into me, I inhaled sharply. He was stretching me open completely, but it felt so good. I felt extremely full as be bottomed out inside of me and holding it there inside of me for a few moments, making sure I was adjusted to his size. 

‘Your pussy is still so fucking tight.’ He said to me, as his eyebrows furrowed together. 

Finally, after a few moments, he pulled out slightly and then pushed in harshly again. His thrusting became rough. 

My hands were leaving scratches all over his back.

‘Yes Thomas, oh my god, please don’t stop…don’t stop...’ I cried out as he began to pound into me. 

My hips met each of his thrusts in a synchronized fashion. He was holding onto the bedframe above me with one hand as the other dipped down to rub my hooded clit once again. Every thrust into me was hitting the start of my cervix, making my head spin. This along with his insistent fingers, was going to make me cum again. 

‘I want you to come around my cock Jasmine. Cum all over my cock, love.’ He said, talking me through it. 

I focused on his eyes that peered into me as he continued fucking me into oblivion. I was so close and he knew it too. My walls were clenching around his cock, making it nearly impossible for him to move in and out of me. 

‘That’s it Love…you’re doing so good for me Jasmine...’ He said calmly, like he wasn’t fucking the life out of me. 

‘Fuck Tommy…I’m gonna cum…I-I’m gonna cum again!’ I moaned out. 

‘Do it now love, cum for me again.’ He said as his rubbing and thrusting now was becoming greedy and sloppy. 

He was ripping me open in the best ways possible. I came the hardest I ever had before right when he commanded me to, like an obedient dog. I was always hanging onto every word he spoke. I would do anything for him. I cried out as my legs began to shake from the sensation of the orgasm. 

Just as I was cumming and clenching around his cock, his breathing became heavier and he let out small grunts, letting me know he was about to unload into me. 

He stared into me as I came for him again, his eyes were wide and searching mine for more. 

Just as he thrusted into me harshly once more, he came umdone around me, his cum filling up my insides, leaking out the sides of me. We both whimpered into each others mouths, coming for eachother at the same time. I couldn’t have asked for a perfect end to this night. 

He let his cock twitch inside of me until he felt himself soften, pulling out of me. My pussy almost immidately felt empty without him inside of me.  

He hovered over me for a few minutes, panting over eachother, before he finally plopped down beside me. 

I was euphoric in this moment. I had been dreaming and dreaming about this for what seemed like forever. At some point, it became unrealistic for me. 

The way he fucked me was sp tender, but also rougher than before, I coud tell he was holding back for some reason, I didn’t want him to. He was more confident in his ability to please me. From experience I supposed. He also seemed more dominant, like everything I was doing was only happening because he said so. I loved the way this new Tommy fucked the shit out of me. I wondered what he thought of me? 

I was completely exhausted and I think Tom was too. I was aleady drifting off into sleep as he ran his fingers through my hair, holding me close to him. 

‘Thank you, Jasmine. I think you’ve relieved more tension than expected tonight.’ He jokingly said as he kissed the top of my head softly. I responded by leaving soft kisses on his chest right before letting me eyes flutter shut and dozing off. Tom fell asleep quickly after me

That was the first night that Tommy stayed asleep peacefully, which brought me a sense of comfort to know I could help him rest.

[razrogue]

channeling energy (Minthara x Tav)

It takes Minthara some time to come to terms with the force that Gan is.

Someone being so in sync with her and wasn't trying to kill her to take it all was like a fever dream. All the right words are said, almost all the right moves are made, Minthara found it unsettling at first. Many nights she wanted to push into Gan's mind to really find out if there was a dagger waiting for her. The one night her curiosity got the better of her and she did, it was illuminating and incredibly frustrating.

Gan felt Minthara's tadpole engaging hers as they got situated in Rivington. She knew it couldn't really be anyone else because it was a sensation she'd known before with Minthara given how she often intruded into her thoughts long before now. Minthara hadn't done it since before the shadow cursed lands when she last saw her after the party so Gan was a little annoyed at the intrusion now. She dropped the bag she'd been holding and stared at her, waiting for her to use her words. It surprised Minthara for a moment before she finally tells her.

She wanted to know if this was all a dream. If she had to be worried that they would eventually end up on opposing sides. Gan looks at her before finally agreeing to let her in. Minthara is hesitant at first. She had to admit to herself that her intrusion was not entirely about finding out if she was only a rest away from a dagger to her throat, not unlike how she'd once done to her. Whispers of companionship had also crossed her mind. She knew the elf was coupled with the vampire spawn. She'd seen them cavorting about but he was of no consequence to her, he barely registered as a threat, let alone a rival. Minthara did find it puzzling how such a formidable person had gotten tangled up with such a fiend but being on the surface had introduced her to many strange customs.

The two of them went into the barn, away from prying eyes, and allowed their minds to mingle.

Minthara pushed in, gently at first, bracing for whatever lie in the thick of it all. She found herself greeted by hesitation of Gan wondering if they should trust them then admirable scenes of the two of them side by side slicing and smiting their foes. It brings Minthara joy to see them removing threats to their claim. But then Minthara pushed further and saw something a lot more personal. The two of them embracing each other by firelight. Gan lying beneath her, hands palming her ass, running her tongue along the edge of her ear. Quickly nibbling its point as she slides her hand further down until it reaches warmth.

Minthara pulls back. It is a revelation indeed. She tells her that she is a little surprised, not that they had not connected physically before. But the vision Gan had shown her held far more intimacy than she anticipated.

She reached for her hand, letting her know her feelings were not one sided. Then she had to lay everything out - that she did not share those she cared about.

Gan runs her thumb across the back of her hand, along a freshly healed scar. She understood that Minthara felt that way but she could not live like that. She told her how she grew up in a family with many parents who all loved and embraced each other freely. She found it incredibly selfish to want to consume someone wholly when you are capable of loving many as love and the capacity to love was not finite. The irony wasn't lost on Gan how she could be unapologetically selfish in so many aspects of her life but loving and sharing herself with others was not one of them. She understood that Minthara felt how she did but she was not one to hoard her affection for others. Gan grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm as she stood up. 

She valued Minthara, not only as an ally but as someone she was starting to care about in a sense, but she would not be made to conform to someone else's definition or expectations. And so Minthara takes that knowledge and response in stride.

It was not her way and she knew the surface folk moved very differently than those in the Underdark. She couldn't fathom having to share her affections with others because when she loved, she only wanted to love one.

But time and insight had a way of bringing clarity. When they were engaged they were no less attended to than the spawn was. Even if it hadn't been in a romantic capacity at the time, Minthara felt no less important to her. Minthara slowly came to see what Gan meant. It may not have been her way but it was a sight to see and to be a part of. So when she finally decided she was willing to partake, she did so with the full knowledge that she wouldn't feel lesser.

[3mcwriting]

Any Fan's Dream, Part 13

Any Fan's Dream Masterlist

Synopsis:

When you look around and see Avengers Tower in front of you and Peter Parker beside you, you wonder how the hell you managed to get into the MCU.

Taglist: @secretly-sirens, @zeeader, @imdoingathingmom, @x-theolivia, @ainsley-official, @huntress-artemiss, @hoohoohope, @ourgoddessathena, @wiintaersoldier, @vine-enthusiast, @afraidofshrimp, @myfturn, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @mynightandstars, @mjaudrey, @igotthisasajokeyetimstillhere, @starr60

Sorry if I missed anyone, please just message me again and I'll add you.

Changing his appearance had always been easy, it was second-nature. Like slipping on a coat made of the softest materials in the Nine Realms. But whenever he took the form of him, his skin always prickled with discomfort. Instead of the silky coat, it was an abrasive outfit of unease. 

He had gotten more used to it, but as he strode to visit Heimdall, he silently contemplated why he was bothering with such an illusion. The man would most likely see through it. Your face flashed through his mind, and he reminded himself that, no, he did not care about the mortal. You simply intrigued him. That's all.

As he entered Himinbjorg, his eyes landed on the man in the shining armor.

Heimdall turned around. "Your Majesty." He bowed, but his gaze never left the supposed "King". "How might I be of service?"

"My son has befriended another human." Loki stated. "Tell me about the mortal."

"A curious request." Heimdall remarked. 

Loki could feel himself being scrutinized, but he ignored the unease. "I must know if his relationships with these humans will disrupt Asgard anymore than they already have."

"Of course, Your Majesty. Who might this human be?"

"They call her (y/n)(l/n)."

Loki stood there, watching Heimdall with the same eyes that used to look at him so belittling.

"It seems that she was injured." 

Loki could barely stop himself from tensing, why would he be tense? Who cares if the mortal was hurt? He didn't. He wasn't concerned, he was....worried that someone who intrigued him would no longer provide amusement. Yeah. That's what was happening.

His heart certainly wasn't beating faster because of concern, nope, it wasn't beating any faster. He was calm and composed because there certainly wasn't anything happening that would increase his heart rate.

"How so?" He tried to tell himself that his nonchalance wasn't, in fact, feigned. 

"Given the destruction, most likely some sort of explosion had happened. She is resting at the moment. Although, she might be in pain. She is sobbing."

For a moment, his breathing stopped. 

You were in pain?

After leaving Himinbjorg, Loki returned to the palace, allowing himself to drop his illusion once he was behind locked doors. As always, his skin felt grotesquely wrong from putting on the façade of his false father. But having left Odin on Midgard, he had no choice but to wear that illusion whenever he was out of his chambers.

The people wouldn't accept the false son as King.

They all looked to Thor, but Thor had abandoned his duties for his Midgardian passions.

Loki's mind slipped to a certain one of Thor's acquaintances, the very person he had inquired about only an hour earlier. 

You were...interesting. 

He had been curious about you since the moment he had borrowed you unwillingly, having simply chosen to grab you because you were a friend of Thor. To taunt his brother. That was all. 

But the way you acted, your responses to everything-

You acted like you knew something everyone else didn't. 

And with your last parting words- the ones whispered in a small closet, the two of you so close, he could-

He shook his head, steering his thoughts away because no, he didn't care for you. Especially not like that. He was simply curious. 

He just wanted some answers.

~~

Bucky had known this was going to happen the moment Steve had shown up in his apartment. 

After all, the government hadn't given much choice. There were two ways it could've ended. At least this way he wasn't six feet under. Although, the world would probably be better off if he had been.

They had transported him in the "cell", although it was more like a plexiglass cage. 

As his eyes roved his surroundings, he thought about the peculiar interaction he had experienced only moments earlier.

~~

You were trying to find Nat and Tony, knowing full well you weren't supposed to be out of bed, better yet in this government building. But no one had tried to stop you when you flew in, although you had counted on that. You had hoped that wearing the Iron Man suit would allow you inside, and it had, you just had to do a bit of talking and playing the injured card to get in. 

Although, after the flight from Berlin, you were feeling funky. Your body didn't seem to like all the flying, and your concussion only meant that you had to deal with constant headaches as well as the pain from all the burns. Yeah, you really shouldn't've been out of bed. But you had used your injuries to your advantage whenever people had stopped you as you had been wandering through the building. Getting in the entrance had been absurdly easy, you were honestly surprised Zemo was the only guy sneaking in and wreaking havoc with how little effort it took to get inside.

It had worked in the end, as evidenced by how you were rushing through the busy building trying to find anyone. You had seen the cars come in, you knew that Steve, Sam, and Bucky were there. Now you just needed to find one of them. 

You knew full well you were on a tight-schedule. There was hardly any time left before everything absolutely went to shit, and you needed to prevent so many things from happening. The team breaking up, Rhodey's injury, the imprisonment of everyone on Cap's team…

There was a lot to get done.

But dammit, the building was huge and you had only seen the parts of it that the movie had shown, so you were hopelessly lost. Sure, you could call Nat or Tony, but you weren't supposed to be there, and you didn't need them to know any sooner than possible. Although, you couldn't count on much time, the guy who had let you in probably notified Tony that you were here. 

"I can't believe they caught him already." Two people walked by you, one a tall woman with dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail, and a shorter woman with buzzed hair, both in uniforms. "He's a ghost story for 50 years and then gets caught like this? Doesn't seem right."

The shorter woman responded, "I don't know. They did say his brain got fucked up by Hydra, right? I can't imagine he's the most clear thinking person."

"I guess," that taller one conceded.

"Hey, it's not our job to analyze the prisoners, just to guard them." 

You thanked whatever cosmic entity was out there, and followed the two women down a hall, stopping when they went into the room. 

It had the kind of glass you had seen in police movies, the one-sided glass. Well, at least you assumed it did, because the guards didn't react when their eyes landed right on you. The door was an entrance into the large room where Bucky was held in his cell. Although, the cell was empty, and that's when you heard all the people. 

You hid around a corner, watching as armored guards escorted Bucky. Your head peeked out, and you ducked behind the corner when you met eyes with the man.  

Holy fuck you just met eyes with Bucky-motherfucking-Barnes!! 

You had to berate yourself for a moment, reminding yourself that now was not the time for fangirling. Even with the reminder, you couldn't help but put your head back out.

He was still staring at you.

You sucked in a breath, heart thudding in your chest as you saw him. He was looking at you intensely, analyzing you. You couldn't help but feel star-struck. He had always been one of the heroes you had defended, loving that he had always been a hero, and hating that an organization had to spend 20 years torturing him to make sure that he didn't know that. 

Your eyes glinted with something like awe, and unbeknownst to you, underneath the expressionless façade he put on, he was perplexed.

~~

Bucky didn't get it. 

Why did you look at him like that? Who were you?

He was strapped to a chair, one that had been designed specifically to hold him. He kept his face looking straight ahead, observing everything but not reacting to anything. Thoughts swirling behind his stoic expression, thoughts about the woman who had held his gaze.

You had ducked behind the wall the first time you saw him, and he hadn't been surprised. He had thought it was from fear but….you put your head back out and looked at him like- like-

He just didn't understand. 

Why were your lips parted slightly? Why were your eyes wide and star-struck? He knew that expression, decades of studying people’s body movements to find them at their most vulnerable. But the expression just didn't fit. You had the look of someone seeing their idol, not of making eye-contact with a supposed-terrorist and ex-assassin.

Why weren't you terrified?

How come you were frozen, but not out of fear? 

~~

You were, yet again, hiding behind a wall and watching as shit went down.

After your staring contest with the one-and-only James Buchanan Barnes, you had ran around like a chicken with its head cut-off, hoping to find someone you knew. You were wandering for close to an hour, getting distracted a few times, and also having to run from certain individuals *cough* Secretary Ross *cough*.

With that bitch roaming around, and you unable to text Nat or Tony to find Steve(due to the fact that they would not exactly be happy with the fact that you weren't on bed rest. And that you had flown there in the suit with a concussion.), you had the hardest fucking time finding anybody. You clutched your head, a migraine only making the day worse.

Why was the building so damn big?

At long last, you had managed to find them. And by them, you meant Tony and Steve. Obviously, you couldn't just enter the room with Tony in it, or it would make the last hour of hiding from him useless, but you really needed to talk to Steve. 

So, you decided to wait it out, your only company the headache raging in your skull.

"Hey, you wanna see something cool? I pulled something from Dad's archives. Felt timely. FDR signed the Lend-Lease bill with these in 1941. Provided support to the Allies when they needed it most."

You were surprised by how much Tony's voice carried from the other room, but those words gave you an idea of exactly what scene you were listening in on. What made you wince though, was the controlled tone of his voice. He sounded angry, but like he was trying to hide it. He didn't sound like that in the movie.

"Some would say it brought our country closer to war."

Yep, you knew exactly what conversation this was. Steve's words were ones you remembered well.

"See? If not for these, you wouldn't be here. I'm trying to...what do you call it? That's an olive branch. Is that what you call it?"

"Is Pepper here? I didn't see her."

"We're kinda...well, not kinda..."

"Pregnant?"

"No. Definitely not. We're taking a break. It's nobody's fault."

"I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn't know."

"A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA...and then Ultron. My fault. And then, and then, and then, I never stopped. Because the truth is I don't wanna stop. I don't wanna lose her. I thought maybe the Accords could split the difference. In her defense, I'm a handful. Yet, Dad was a pain in the ass, but he and Mom always made it work."

You felt bad, having forgotten about the break-with-Pepper-thing. Tony was lonely, and guilt-ridden, and angry, it was no wonder a fight broke out.

"You know, I'm glad Howard got married. I only knew him when he was young and single."

"Oh, really? You two knew each other? He never mentioned that. Maybe only a thousand times. God, I hated you."

"I don't mean to make things difficult."

"I know, because you're a very polite person."

You could practically see Tony gritting his teeth, his tone far less playful than how it was in the movie.

"If I see a situation pointed south...I can't ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could."

You knew what words were going to come out of Tony's mouth in response to that, he was going to say, "No, you don't."

"Really? And was what happened to (y/n) not a situation pointed south? You broke the law to protect a terrorist. I'd say you ignored a pretty big situation pointed south."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, no this wasn't supposed to happen. Dammit! 

"It wasn't him. Bucky didn't bomb the building."

"Really?" The sarcasm in Tony's voice had a biting edge to it, but he managed to get his anger somewhat under control. "Listen...so far, nothing's happened that can't be undone, if you sign. We can make the last 24 hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych-center...instead of a Wakandan prison."

"I'm not saying it's impossible, but there would have to be safeguards."

"Sure. Once we put out the PR fire, those documents can be amended. I'd file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated-"

"Wanda? What about Wanda?"

Nonono, nothing is going alright. 

You knew you only had minutes, seconds maybe to stop the rift from being irreparable. Actually no, it gets irreparable after Tony finds out that Bucky killed his parents-

"She's fine. She's confined to the compound, currently. Vision's keeping her company."

Dammit you need to stop zoning out.

"Oh God, Tony! Every time. Every time I think you see things the right way-"

"What? It's a 100 acres with a lap pool. It's got a screening room. There's worse ways to protect people."

"Protection? Is that how you see this? This is protection? It's internment, Tony."

You couldn't let it happen. Not again. Not like in the movie. You knew that Steve was only moments from leaving the room, the issue unresolved and the fight forever impending. You didn't know how you would fix it, but you hoped you could manage to get them to relax enough that you could convince them both to do something.

Just as you were ready to step out and make yourself known, a hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back."

"I don't think they'd appreciate you eavesdropping, darling."

[elvisabutler]

spark ( chapter one: company )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician ) x female original character word count: 13957 told y'all it was just shy of 14k warnings: old southern church ladies being all up in people's business. not the best of marriages. talk of children. copious amounts of sweat. elvis preferring to wear a jumpsuit that's worn in versus getting a new one. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. a bit of negative self talk. this is not safe for work. i am not giving away anything else in these warnings. author’s note: first off the largest and most sincere of thanks to the ever delightful and loving marina who once upon a time just had whispers of a sort of off shoot/same vibe sort of thing for crawfever ( yes this is why this fic has gotten crawfever adjacent as a tag despite it not being the same thing ). and let me take them, burrow into her brain and find the bits and bobs that her brain had dreamed up but not been able to put into words. this fic would not exist without those whispers and without your edits. second, special thanks to my phenomenal wives and besties christi and birdy as well for you two know just how much you supported me in this from when marina did the whispers and i spewed what i affectionately called marina's brain herpes at you two, your screams and thoughts have been so powerful to get me to work on this. third, special other thanks to the charming @prompted-wordsmith for the edit job and the saving my ass on that one spot both me and marina could not figure out words for and putting up with my frankly excessive em dash use. beyond that, thank all of y'all who've enjoyed my vibes posts and have been getting excited based on what i've said to y'all, what marina has said to y'all, etc. just i'm very excited to show y'all this and i hope you enjoy. and quick tiny note, this is set in the 50s, so elvis is a wwii veteran and thus his birth and everything is pushed a little bit back to make this work.

“Call that handyman—the one from the church, I have to get to work,” her husband Nathan calls out as he leaves without a kiss exchanged between the two of them.

Words left unsaid die a quick death on her lips and tongue as she lets out a sigh. Once again she was left alone with barely a goodbye. She supposes she should be thankful he at least waited until she was awake. That he waited till she at least was conscious and able to ask him what she needed to, even if his response left so much to be desired. Call the handyman—Mr. Presley was his name, not that Nathan cared to know. After all, that would require him taking an interest in the church life or her sister’s life. It would require him to see the look on her face when she holds little Elizabeth while grabbing her from Sunday school or dropping her off at Sunday school for Melly. It would require… so many things.

Mr. Presley always told anyone to call Crown Electric and ask for him if they were in need. Some people argue it was some form of shrewd marketing but the pastor likes to reassure the congregation that Elvis, the godly and kind soul that he is, wouldn’t do that willy-nilly. Lilly’s hand shakes as she calls and reaches what she assumes is the receptionist before being reassured that he'll be over in a jiff. 

A jiff turns out to be a surprisingly quick time, no more than a half an hour before she hears a knock that somehow sounds delicate and gentle but is forceful enough for her to hear it easily. Adjusting her dress, she smoothes out an imaginary set of wrinkles, nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was because she feels so very silly calling up a handyman for this fix. Truly if she could she’s certain she could fix it herself and she knows Nathan had fixed this very problem before. And yet here she was, about to answer her door. Oh, she hopes he doesn't judge her too harshly—hopes he doesn't think less of Nathan or her. 

As she opens the door she is greeted by the sight of Mr. Presley in a simple olive jumpsuit that appeared to be a bit tight in the middle, his paunch pushing at the fabric the same as it appeared to do in the area of his thigh. It's strange for her to see him like this, far more rugged than he ever is in church or at the potlucks. Lilly swears her heart skips a beat in what she thinks is shock cause she looks up at Mr. Presley’s face and sees what is one of the most genteel and warm smiles she's ever seen on a person. 

"Mrs. Harris," Elvis greets Lilly with that smile that has Lilly's own lips curling into one even as she bites at her lip and tilts her head down.

"Mr. Presley. You came quickly," A statement of fact while hiding a question of why and how as she moves aside to allow him to enter her home. 

“It's not everyday lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt calls for help from me. In fact, I think this is ya first time," Elvis answers while keeping his gaze on her as he enters, carefully avoiding looking around the house. "Musta been an emergency."

"Lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt" shouldn't sting as much as it does and yet she feels herself wince just slightly at the idea of only being known as an aunt, never a mother. Of being known as a barren woman who defied her family's legendary fertility to have an empty house and a husband who tolerated her at best as of late.

"Oh you just have to try harder, Lilly. Must be something—in your diet. Or that stress of yours. Nathan days you've been downright mean when you talk sometimes."

She's been downright mean, it would take a downright mean person to know one wouldn't it? It would take a man who ignores his wife like Nathan does to recognize a woman who's mean when she talks. Frustrated is what Lilly was, dejected is what Lilly was. But mean? No, she tries too hard not to be mean that the idea of Nathan accusing her of such a thing is a betrayal of her heart.

Lilly sniffles slightly, attempting to play it off as allergies. "You could say that, Mr. Presley. Nathan had to rush out and I'm—I can't quite fix it myself. And you did say if anyone needed help with anything to make a call for you."

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before her sniffles hit him. It's as if a grenade has gone off in front of him. It's as if he can see the rubble of whatever had been in front of him at those small, barely-noticeable sniffles. Why…? There was no reason for her to be crying. 'Less she didn't want him to be here. Had he said something to offend her, something that made her emotional? Or was it embarrassment from needing to call him? He shouldn't reach out to touch her, shouldn't offer comfort he isn't sure she needs. But there's something about that small little sniffle that has him frowning and praying it's just allergies or the dust from his suit or something physical causing them. His hand moves to grab her own and—zzzt—that's when he feels a spark shoot into his hand, up his arm and settle in his chest. If he didn’t know any better he swears his heart skips a beat or two as he shakes his head.

"Know I'm not the most charming o' company Mrs. Harris but—I do good work. As for Mr. Harris, I'm sure he's busy bein' a good provider. Givin' ya everythin' ya need. Fixin' things can be a bit o' work for you young ones, ‘specially for the men after a long day. That's why you got ol’ fools like me. Fix things so ya don't gotta worry that pretty head of yours.”

Lilly's lips can't help but quirk into a smile, small as it is, at his words. They're not entirely comforting at face value but the longer she allows them to sit as she watches him set his bag down on the floor by her oven and make moves to actually do his job, the more they settle something inside of her. A final sniffle escapes her before she blows her nose by her sink, turning to face Elvis when she's finished.

Lilly's never put much stock in the idea that someone's entire aura and demeanor can change based on the clothes they wear. After all, she was the same person whether or not she was in her nightgown versus her dress or in the dresses she’d wear around the house compared to, say, her Sunday’s best. Mr. Presley, though, there’s something to be said about how he looks standing in front of her compared to how he looks every Sunday. There’s something to be said about how the jumpsuit he’s wearing almost looks too small for him but it’s just his middle that tightens the fabric. It’s just that paunch of his stomach yanking the fabric forward in an effort to contain him, stretching the fabric across his chest and making it so he has to leave the zipper partially undone before it reaches his neck. Her eyes refuse to linger on his lower half for too long but she can see how tight it is around his legs, around his thighs and she feels a shiver come over her for just a moment. This–this isn’t the same man who dresses in a full suit, jacket and all to church. This isn’t the same man who has his hair slicked back and his suit pants pressed like his mama’d taught him in church. 

This isn’t the same man she hands her niece off to every Sunday. No, this is another man entirely, a rugged down to Earth—salt of the Earth man. He’s a man who isn’t afraid to get dirty and afraid to work on things other people might stick their nose up at. He’s a man through and through and Lilly can’t help but wonder what else Mr. Presley’s been hiding. If there’s another side of him she hasn’t seen that is as fascinating and as invigorating to look at as this one. 

Not that she should be looking, not that the Lord wouldn't… perhaps this is why Nathan and her still have a fruitless marriage. A marriage of short kisses and dinner on the table and mothers who touch her belly and whisper how soon enough they'll be blessed. Perhaps with two at once. Maybe this is why the lord refuses to bless her—maybe if she didn't wish for company—covet her sister’s and her friends’ growing families. She could have company if she could keep Nathan home for longer than a few hours. 

Elvis’s mouth is opening and closing as if words are passing through them and Lilly blinks once, twice, three times before shaking her head to clear it of the thoughts that have started to swirl around it. "I'm sorry Mr Presley, could you–could you repeat what you just said. My mind went… I started trying to figure out what I could scrounge up in case this takes too long.”

There’s a chuckle, warm and inviting that leaves Elvis’s lips at the explanation before he shakes his head. “Got that little faith in me, Mrs. Harris? Think ya gonna be without an oven for a whole day? I’ll have this fixed up in in an hour, two if that.” He pauses and smiles. “Most of the time, it’s somethin’ real simple. Like ya said, you or Mr. Harris could’ve fixed it but ya both got things to do. Him, goin’ to work and bringin’ home the money and you, uh, takin’ care of… the house.” 

Lilly’s chest tightens at his words, at how he stops mid sentence. She knows perfectly well what he was going to say, that she would be taking care of the children and the house, but the house is as empty as her womb. There’s a warmth to it, of course, attempts at making things as inviting as can be and yet there’s always the gust of cold air from the fridge or from the screen door opening and closing making the house feel even emptier than it is. Emptier in a way it doesn’t feel right in this moment with someone else in the house. Not with someone like Mr. Presley taking up so much space in her kitchen just from height and bulk by his lonesome. Maybe even just from his presence alone. Still, his words settle her fear just a bit as she watches him bend down to open her oven. She can’t help how her eyes linger on the worn fabric stretched across his backside and under, between his legs. They’re right there, and she hadn’t meant to look, she was just about to say something to him, something that’s been swallowed up by every thought that slams into her head at the vision in front of her. Oh, she–she’s just on edge from this morning and how Nathan left so quickly. That’s all this is, nothing more, nothing less. She takes a breath and moves to grab a pitcher from her lower cabinets unaware that Elvis had looked back to ask something of her before being presented with the sight in front of him. It’s nothing untoward, and is purely chaste but there’s something about the way her dress tightens just a smidge around her backside that has him swallowing his tongue and moving to stick his head in the oven with a flashlight to see what might be the problem.

 

The problem as he expected was something simple, an easy fix with a part he has in his bag but he notices how there’s a few other things that could be dealt with while he’s down here. He should charge her for them, but… he finds he doesn’t want to. Finds that spending time in her company is worth the extra time he’d be spending in her oven. Especially when he hears her voice softly singing some—he thinks that might be Jo Strafford but he can’t be sure. There’s an element of homeliness that has him sighing while in the oven. Normally he feels this sense of ease in church and here he is with Mrs. Harris and she makes him feel just the same. 

“Mr. Presley, are you alright? Do… Is it worse than you thought?” He hears her soft voice above him and bashes his head against the top of the oven, cursing slightly as he does. 

“‘M fine. It’s fine Mrs. Harris. Jus’ looking at the work I gotta do. Definitely—gonna take all two of those hours I promised ya but it’ll be good as new when I’m finished with it,” Elvis answers, rubbing at his head and moving his arm down to rummage through his bag, worried about how he’d look if he bothered to pull himself out from inside the oven. 

The problem with doing that, the problem with hiding away in the oven as he does, is that even though the thing isn’t on, it’s stifling in the summer heat. Roasting him slowly but surely as he feels beads of sweat enter his eyes and slightly fog up his glasses. His free hand, unoccupied with his work, moves to grab a cloth he has on his belt just to wipe at his eyes. He hopes he doesn’t get any dirt on them. Meanwhile above him, Lilly busies herself with puttering around the kitchen. She’s making lemonade that’s almost as sweet as her sweet tea, but only because she’s never really enjoyed how sour lemons can be, sure that was supposed to be part of the allure but—Lilly’s never been that sour of a person. Instead more full of sugar sweet smiles and sweet Southern charm that had her husband falling at her feet when they were teenagers and had his parents eating out of her hand the moment she said hello. 

It takes Elvis damn near the whole two hours to finish, finally managing to finish a little bit after lunch time. Just enough time for LIlly to whip up something real quick, nothing too fancy, but Nathan would understand in this case, after all, it’s not as if he had fixed it before work. She hears Elvis’s groan from inside the oven and she can’t help the way she crouches down at the noise, making sure her legs are covered with her dress and moving to hold out her hand in an effort to help him pull himself out from inside her oven. She notices the dirt on his hands but doesn’t mind in the slightest, knowing she’s got a functioning sink and from that groan he honestly just might need a hand getting up out of it. There's a hesitation and an aborted attempt to swat her hand away before he takes it as both their arms twitch at the same time when their hands touch. 

"Didn't shock ya, did I, lil darlin'?" His voice sounds distant for a moment as he uses the leverage from her hand to scoot himself out and then pull himself up into a sitting position. 

“No, Mr. Presley, you didn’t—” Lilly’s words trail off as she looks at Mr. Presley’s face and notices just how covered in sweat it is. It shouldn’t be that sweaty, she thinks, it shouldn’t look like he’s practically used her garden hose in the back to hose himself down. That rag should’ve been used to mop up the glittering beads rolling down his cheekbones and collecting in the dip of his cupid’s bow. Unless he has somehow lost the ability to put it to use—but as Lilly’s eyes trace down his strong forearm she finds it’s translucent in a way that brings to mind summers outside and gigglingly waving at the boys across the lake. Being in a confined space like her oven would cause something like this, would cause someone to sweat as much as this but seeing it in front of her, seeing it before her very eyes has Lilly struck a bit speechless. There’s a glass of lemonade in her hand that she plans on offering Mr. Presley but the words refuse to come out, caught in her throat as she just stares at him. Stares at the sweat covering his face and his hair and making there be this curl among all the chocolate brown plastered to his head. It shouldn’t—it isn’t attractive on Nathan or any other boy she had ever seen look similar to this after a football game or after a hard day of entertaining outside. Yet here was Mr. Presley looking so very attractive that Lilly can’t find the words to describe it. This could not be the man she had seen so many times at church, at Sunday School when she dropped off her niece. 

Elvis is confused the longer he looks at Lilly, the longer he sees her staring at him like he’s a prime cut of meat. That—he hasn’t seen that look on a woman since after the war, since before his overeating and the nightmares and the grief and the visions he can’t ever stop thinking of unless he’s working. Sure, there’s still the few who try and set him up with their daughters who they figure can’t find another man and the few widows who remember how he was when he first came back to Memphis. But someone who’s Lilly’s age looking at him like that? Like she might be willing to pounce on him despite the ring on her finger? Oh, that was… That is something he cannot entertain, that has to be the heat finally getting to him, finally making him imagine things that certainly aren’t there. There’s no conceivable way someone as sweet as Miss Lilly, Mrs. Harris, Lilly, would ever be looking at him like that. His eyes drift down to the glass in her hand and a grin threatens to overwhelm his face as he grabs it with a simple thanks and starts to down the drink without a care in the world.

Lilly’s eyes watch as a single sweat drop rolls down his skin. Mr. Presley’s neck is stretched out as he drinks, Adam’s apple bobbing. The drops of water on the outside of the glass fall to his neck. They join their sweat brothers in rolling slowly but surely down his throat, tracing a path her mind whispers to her about chasing with her tongue as she had more than once before with Nathan. They roll down past his collarbone and down to his chest—his exposed chest because of that stupid zipper. They make a home in the patch of sweat and musk and warmth that is his chest hair and Lilly’s mouth opens to let out a choked-off squeak, she thinks. Or maybe it was her choking on her own breath, on her own tongue as she tries to say something, tries to tell Mr. Presley to set down the glass or drink slower or that he missed so much sweat on his body. Maybe–maybe it went all the way down, oh, maybe it…no, she cannot entertain this idea, she cannot entertain the way her mind wants to explore the possibilities. Tonight Nathan can help rid her of these thoughts, he can help her forget how she sees all this sweat gliding down another man’s skin. Down Mr. Presley’s skin, down the skin of someone who teaches Sunday school and wears tight jumpsuits that leave nothing to the imagination. The thoughts swirl and swirl as she clenches her thighs together and rubs them against each other. There is a smooth, slick quality to the glide that makes a flush of shame rise to the very apples of her cheeks, or maybe that’s the way Mr. Presley’s body is burned into her mind.

“Oh.” She exhales the word, swaying a little before she shakes her head, “Mr. Presley. You— Your—” Lilly shuts her eyes before continuing. “Are you enjoying the lemonade? My lemonade?”

“My lemonade”? What was she thinking, it was just lemonade, she didn’t have a claim over it, she didn’t want to know if Elvis enjoyed something of hers. That way of thinking—no, she just wanted to make sure she had made it correctly. That she had made it the right amount of sweet for him to enjoy and for it to quench his thirst. A repayment for making him do such a silly job as he just finished doing for her. Her eyes meet his as she finally is able to take her eyes off of his neck, off the vein in his neck that throbbed as he swallowed, at the way his swallows allowed the droplets of sweat and water roll down his throat. Her hand twitches with a desire to touch and hold. 

“I loved it. Sweet as anything I‘ve ever had.” He licks his lips, tasting the tangy salt of his sweat cutting through the sweetness of her lemonade. It’s not a lie, he truly does enjoy her lemonade, but he thinks–he thinks he might enjoy her company more, enjoy how she asks if he’s alright and worries about him enough to give him lemonade after he swears he’s practically sweat through his own jumpsuit. Not many people extended such domestic kindness to him anymore. He was Elvis the Pelvis, Elvis the Sunday School teacher, he was Elvis the electrician, but never just Elvis. He wasn’t ever just a man that a pretty wife might offer lemonade to. “Ya mind if I have another glass?” 

The way she hands over the pitcher is almost robotic or automatic and Elvis can’t help the way his hand shoots out to grab it, his fingers brushing over hers yet again igniting another spark between them. It’s not possible and yet he swears he feels it from his fingertips up to the top of his arm. Lilly pulls back her hand quickly, cradling it against her chest. “You can have th-the whole… the whole pitcher if you need.” 

Elvis laughs, the idea almost as comical as the way she says it with a straight face. Pouring the glass, he shakes his head at her and shrugs, “Can’t polish one of these off myself. If I had help now—” 

There’s something inside of Lilly that loosens at those words, at the playful nature of them despite how there is perhaps a flirtatious edge to them. It’s as if there was something inside of her that she hadn’t realized was a problem before that evaporated at Mr. Presley’s laugh and at his smile. It felt like true enjoyable company, the sort of company you’re supposed to have with your friends and your husband, but Lilly can’t remember the last time she felt it with anyone other than her sister. Her mild bitterness at swollen bellies and husbands who came by and kissed their wives on their cheek, happy to see them and see their handiwork coloring her happiness to see friends. God hadn’t seen fit to grace her womb with a child, and Nathan was alright with that despite Lilly’s pleas so she had dropped it all the while pushing those friends away, the reminder of the dream she wanted slipping farther and farther out of her grasp, through her fingers like the sand on the beach. 

Lilly smiles and grabs the other glass on the table, it is normally Nathan’s but she can set out another one, she can do the dishes before he arrives home while dinner is cooking. She sets it right in front of Elvis. “If you’ll do me the honor of pouring it. If you’re a gentleman.”

The laugh sounds almost sinister when it leaves his mouth, a dark sort of thing but the warmth in it has Lilly realizing that perhaps it’s a special laugh. Maybe it could be his laugh for only her. Nathan had one of those for her, once upon a time. She misses that laugh and to have another person give one to her is… it warms her soul from the inside out and she swears she feels a part of her, a part she knows has been snapped in half for the past year at least snaps back into place. His words are almost missed but when she focuses, puts him back in focus, she hears him clear as day as he pours her a glass. "God and my mama'd strike me down if I wasn't a gentleman, 'specially to you, Lil darlin."

There it was again. A nickname. Nathan never gave her one, told her that her name was already short enough and pretty enough and yet here was Mr. Presley giving her one. It’s an open secret he’s liberal with his use of nicknames and yet hearing one perhaps only for her has her heart fluttering in her chest, fluttering against the confines of the bones keeping it inside. Lil darlin, a shortened version of Lilly and darling in one simple nickname. Her body warms at the implication of familiarity. “Thank you, Mr. Presley.” Her teeth move to worry at her lower lip as she toys with a question inside her head before looking at him. “Would–Would you like to stay for dinner? Nathan—Mr. Harris might be late and I’m—you’re charming company.”

The way she starts and stops in asking makes Elvis want to say yes, wants to put her at ease and tell her there’s perhaps nothing he’d like to do more that afternoon, but his eyes drift down to her ring glinting in the light and he sighs, shaking his head. The thought is tempting, but thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery. While he may not do the second, he knows if he stays much longer he’s likely to do the first. “Not—I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Harris, but I have to get home. Maybe. A raincheck?”

A raincheck. A promise of maybe another time. A promise of if things were different he would say yes in a heartbeat. A promise that if he could he would stay sitting at her dining table and drink lemonade as she cooked dinner for her husband. Her husband, the one she cares for and loves with all her heart. He— He— There should be no raincheck and yet he wants her to agree to one.

“A raincheck.” Her face had fallen as he let her down easy before the mention of the raincheck, the mention of it making her smile once again. The mention of it having her smile and beam and bloom like her flower namesake, soaking in the attention as if it was water meant to nourish her and fulfill her. “Of course. You—Just finish as much of the lemonade as you’d like and you can see yourself out, if that’s alright? Just—so I can make dinner and have it done on time.”

His eyes watch as she stands up, smoothing out her clothes and sees how she practically glides across the floor of the kitchen as if she’s a natural in it. Her body moves as if it’s used to being around people and used to having people underfoot and Elvis is struck by how it feels like something is missing watching her, feels as if something doesn’t seem right in the picture. There should be someone else near her. He—no, that’s not a path he’ll go down today. After another ten minutes of him just watching her work and two more glasses of lemonade, he sets down the glass and makes his way out the door. “Goodnight, Lil darlin’!”

It feels a little dirty, the way when he gets home and is in bed for the night his cock jumps at the memory of her staring at his chest. He knows she's married, saw the ring clear as day in the sunlight but that look. He only remembers that look from June when he took her once upon a time. Had her husband not been giving her what she needed? Had she not been given the proper water to blossom? Had he been leaving her to wilt inside their shared home that she kept so well? Had he–had he deprived her of the ability to put down roots? The idea knocks the air out of his lungs and has him praying for forgiveness no more than five minutes later as he wipes his hand on a dirty shirt nearby.

Elvis doesn’t see Lilly until that Sunday in church, and yet his mind wanders to her when he’s working with other people’s issues. None of them are as simple as hers was and it makes him almost angry that he’s stuck spending his time with these issues when hers were over far too quick. Time flies when you’re having fun, but had he been having fun? Or was it just that God himself knew better than to allow him to stay in her house for too long, the urges he could feel flowing through his veins almost too hard to ignore. When he does, though, when he does he sees her in the most gorgeous of dresses, a simple baby blue number that matched her sister’s and matched her brother in law's tie. He expects to see her husband. Nathan, she had called him, and instead only sees the three of them and one small little girl in Lilly’s arms. Little Lizzie being carried by Lilly and looking so at ease and happy in her arms that Elvis’s heart twists at the image. A woman like that, a woman who can get a child that was less than a year old to be so calm and collected in a sea of people… now that’s a woman who ought to have a passel of kids, a football team of children. A platoon of children behind her, all in single file, smitten husband bringing up the rear. Yet here she was on a Sunday without her husband and tagging along as an extra hand, helping her sister who, if rumors were to be believed, was expecting again. He sees her wave off her sister and brother in law before she walks toward him, a soft smile on her face.

“Mr. Presley,” Lilly murmurs softly as Lizzie yawns in her arms and snuggles closer. “I was going to hand her off to you but I don’t think I can. I think she’d much prefer to keep her pillow.” She looks down at her niece before looking up at him. “I—If it’s alright, do you mind if I stay here?”

His hand moves in such a way as to brush off her concern. Did he mind if she stayed there? What sort of silly question was that. Did he mind if a woman who occupied his mind as he pleasured himself stayed in here with him. He has to bite back a laugh. If he could he’d let her stay in this room with him until time eternal, until the rapture where those who were worthy would be saved. She would be saved and perhaps–perhaps, if he could resist, he would have mended enough fences with God for him to do the same thing.

“I can always use the extra help, Mrs. Harris.” He motions to the children already around him. “They can be a bit of a handful.”

A laugh that sounds like the church bells ringing leaves her mouth as Elvis watches her bloom like she did at her house. There’s… It’s strange, seeing her so happy because of words he’s saying, almost as if he’s the reason she has to smile and she’s soaking up every bit of attention he can give her. Elvis has never fancied himself a gardener by any means but for her he thinks he might be one. Her husband should nurture her as she nurtures him and their children when they have any and yet he wonders if he does. He wonders if the boy, Nathan, realizes what he seems to be doing to Lilly, how her petals fall without attention, how she withers without his care, without his water nourishing her soul, her body and filling—Elvis shakes his head to clear it. 

“You always handle them so well, Mr. Presley. You’re a natural, I think.” The question is on the tip of her tongue, the question of why Elvis doesn’t have children of his own but she stops herself, she stops herself because it’s none of her business why. Maybe he just never found the right woman—a shame, she thinks. He would make a great husband from what she’s been able to see. A loving husband. A caring husband. So wrapped up in her own thoughts she very nearly misses him speaking to her as she sits down, shushing Lizzie’s protests at the movement and making sure the little ones around her quiet down.

"Surprised ya don't have children, Lil Darlin', ain't ever seen a woman be a natural with 'em like you," Elvis says, peeking over the rims of his glasses to a child who looked about ready to cause a complete ruckus. His focus is purely on that as he misses her wince and the way her hand reaches out to rub at her stomach, almost as if to mourn the lack of children from her womb.

"Nathan and I… We've been trying. Less often, lately, but—oh I don't—it just hasn't happened. God's saved those blessings for my sister. Little Lizzie and, and the one she's carrying now." Lilly bites her lip, trying not to let the tears she feels pooling in her eyes fall. She’s in public and Mr. Presley is just an acquaintance as of now, he doesn’t need to see the emotion she’s only ever reserved for her sister, Melly. A sniffle escapes her before she can stop it and Elvis’s hand reaches to grab a handkerchief from his pocket to give her to blow into and to dry her eyes. She takes it gladly.

"God'll gift ya one soon enough, be a cryin' shame if he didn't." A true statement of fact disguised as a reassurance. Elvis doesn’t think there’d be any true justice in the world if the Lord didn’t bless her with a child or several. Even now as they talked just her presence seemed to calm the children as they sat near her, waiting expectantly for him to tell a story or sing a song. Even Lilly dabbing his handkerchief at her eyes looked as if she was waiting for him and what he would do. As much as he wants to continue to talk with her, he thinks perhaps he should just entertain her. He thinks he should show off what he can do for her. His mind doesn’t dwell on the meaning behind it, instead choosing to dwell on how all he wants to do in that moment is watch Lilly be happy with her niece in her lap while she makes children listen and remain calm even if they are excited. 

The class is the calmest one he’s had in at least a year.

Things keep breaking in Lilly’s house and if Elvis was a suspicious man—if Elvis felt any hope when it came to Lilly, he would venture she called him on purpose. He would venture that she wants to see him and perhaps breaks things to do just that and yet they’re so different, each thing that’s broken, that he thinks perhaps it’s honestly things just breaking. The one true joy involved in it, though, beyond seeing her face when he’s fixed yet another thing is how she smiles when she sees him. 

Elvis is a man. Elvis is a man who can’t help himself sometimes. Elvis is a man who is not perfect. Elvis is a man who cannot and will not avoid the temptation of at least seeing Mrs. Harris more often. He learns Nathan rarely comes home on time except for certain days. He learns how great of a cook Lilly is, the smells wafting around the house when he works. He learns she’s a great cook because he’s tasted it at her insistence that he take home the food she’s made, if not insisting that he comes and eats with her. There is a part of him that thinks he’s playing her husband, replacing the man who is never home and is rarely at church with his wife despite how much it means to her. But Elvis knows he isn’t her husband. Despite what he does when it comes to cooking with her, despite how every so often his body betrays him, pictures her beneath him or on top of him, taking him in a way he wouldn’t think she could… he never acts on it. He never tells her. They haven’t crossed any lines, they are just friends who are becoming closer the more and more time they spend together. Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and before he realizes, before either of them realize it’s been three months and another thing has broken. Something feels different as he finishes up and prepares to leave only to realize that he can’t, not with her the way she seems to be on this particular day. 

He knows he should have already left, knows that her husband is liable to be back sooner rather than later, after all today isn’t a day he normally goes straight out with his friends. Today is a day he comes home to eat dinner with his wife, perhaps—enjoy other pleasures with his wife and then leave with his friends. It is a Friday, he has the rest of the weekend to spend with the boys and he knows Lilly will be with him on the Saturday with their wives and Sunday during church and the potluck afterward, not that he enjoyed going to them. But Lilly looks so… she looks so in need of company, something had happened the night before, he reasons, something had caused her soul to curl in on itself to the point where she doesn’t talk nearly as much as she normally would with him. Sure, they had still been floating around each other, and she answered a question here and there and would check to make sure he wasn’t accidentally shocking and hurting himself but there was no humming above him, no subtle roll of her hips that made him ache when he was alone at home. Done with his work, he washes his hands in Lilly’s sink, watching as she busies herself putting the finishing touches on her dinner before she pops it into the oven he fixed a few months ago. Yet he can’t shake the feeling that something else in this house needs to be fixed beyond the oven and beyond the wiring he had fixed tonight. He’s never been one to leave a job undone or hastily finished only for it to fall apart some time later for someone else to repair, damage caused by his carelessness. His eyes against his better judgment watch as she bends, watch as her dress rises and stretches around her backside, highlighting it in a way that has him averting his eyes. When he hears the quiet slam of the oven closing he finally looks back at her and is met by her wiping her brow for a moment before staring at him. 

“Do I have something on my face?” The question is so innocent he almost laughs. She has nothing on her face. There’s nothing wrong with her face other than the fact that it’s marred by a frown instead of—at the very least—the small smile he’s used to seeing from her. He wants to fix it, he wants to keep her from wilting, make it so she can continue to bloom the way she has been from the moment they properly met outside of church. 

“Ah… No, Lil Darlin, you don’t. Ya jus’—did somethin’ happen with you and Nathan last night? Ya look awfully sad and I—you weren’t even hummin’ today. Felt like I needed to put on a record it felt so quiet in the kitchen.” Elvis tries to choose his words carefully and even so Lilly’s face falls just a hair as she sighs. 

“Oh. I–I didn’t realize it looked so obvious. I…We were supposed to go on a date, Mr. Presley. We were supposed to go on a date and he was supposed to take me dancing because we haven’t in over a year and I miss it. But—there was a business meeting that ran late and by the time he got home I was too tired and the dance hall was—”

“Closed,” he finishes off for her, knowing full well what time every dance hall in the general area of Memphis closed. He knew full well that the only one that might have stayed open past a normal time was the army one and Nathan, unlike him, was not an army man. No, he was merely a boy–a boy playing at doing business and taking care of his wife financially but not emotionally. There it was again, that deep unceasing urge to fix it, that urge to fix this even if it’s not his place to try to fix anything beyond her appliances and her wiring. His fingers twitch against the side of his leg as he feels them both loosen, one even bouncing just slightly. It’s as if his body is trying to rev up while his mind reminds him with a traitorous whisper he still has every bit of equipment needed to help—to fix this, even if it's all more than a bit rusty. He can shake off that rust just fine, if it was for her. 

 “I… Lil Darlin. If—I know how to dance. Know I don’t look it, with this paunch,” he gives his stomach a light slap that has it jiggling just a bit and has Lilly’s eyes widening and a flush of desire coursing through her veins, wondering how that would feel under her hands, not that he notices. “But I used to do a lot of swing dancin’, if—I could dance wit’ ya if ya want me to. Ya can say no, but the offer’s there.”

For a moment, Lilly just stares at Elvis as if he’s grown an extra head. Surely he’s saying this in jest, he doesn’t mean what he’s asking, he isn’t offering to treat her better than her husband did. He isn’t offering to dance with her in the kitchen or the living room. That’s–that’s such a silly notion that despite how their relationship, their friendship has grown he can’t be caring for her more than her husband does. The laugh that escapes her sounds harsh even to her own ears as she winces at the sound, her eyes meeting his as if there's a million and one apologies on her tongue. His eyes make every apology that tries to form disappear in every breath she takes. He's not angry, doesn't think she's mocking him with her laughter. As always he realizes she just thinks he’s joking or that there is no way he actually wishes to do what he’s mentioned because after all, if her own husband doesn’t want to dance with her why would a stranger or a friend of sorts want to? That’s not something you do for a woman when you aren’t married to her. Swing dancing in her living room, that has to be a joke. 

Her voice is quiet, though, once she stops laughing and notices how Elvis still looks like he might be expecting an answer, as if she hadn’t practically mocked the mere idea of them swing dancing in her living room. Maybe—oh, maybe he was being genuine. Oh, he was far too good to her, indulging her silly wants and desires as if they were married instead of just merely friends. "You're… you don't have to." There. There, she had given him a chance to take back what he offered and made it so they could move on from this—move on from what such an offer meant to her and how she could feel her throat tightening and her heart in her chest twisting. 

Elvis takes a moment to just take her in, take in the way her body seems to wilt at the mere idea of him not dancing with her and the idea of him taking her up on her offer of taking back what he agreed to. The breath that leaves him is overtaken by a laugh, though he tries to stifle it. He holds out his hand and moves to the living room. "Lil Darlin', wouldn't've offered if I didn't. Gonna have to forgive me if 'm rusty. Haven't done it in a while."

"Neither have I." 

He's sure he feels a muscle in his jaw tense at those words before he shakes his head to clear it. Soon enough her husband would realize how much he's let his wife wilt from lack of attention, from lack of water to nourish her body and soul. For now though, for now he’s here to help her, to make her smile and be happy in a way she deserves to be. Her hand is soft enough that he almost feels wrong touching it with his callus-filled ones. It feels wrong to have such soft skin against his own but at the same time, it settles something deep within him to feel her hand in his and to feel her pressed against his body. He takes a moment to put on a record, praying it actually is something they can dance to only to realize it’s “Sing Sing Sing”, a song he’s danced to more times than he cares to count. Laughter erupts from in a fit of pure joy as he sees Lilly’s face light up when they start to dance. 

There should be a bit of awkwardness that only comes from when you first try to dance with a new partner, and yet they fall into a rhythm so natural his mind swirls with the possibility of dancing with her like this the rest of his life. Her feet move in step with his, easily avoiding his own, before he grabs her to pick her up, a move he hasn’t done in almost a decade but he does with an ease that shocks him as she giggles, the sound adding to the music as if it’s another horn. He’s getting dizzy with the sheer joy of hearing it. It feels so natural to swing and toss and lift her up as she smiles brighter than anything he’s ever seen. It looks like the sunrise in France when there was those brief moments of peace. All he can think is how that smile needs to be there every second of the day, that’s a smile that deserves to be seen, deserves to be shown off to everyone and yet—and yet he hopes not even her husband has seen this smile. Perhaps this is just for him and his swing dancing with her. Maybe no one else has seen this smile, because he swears even when he was younger he didn’t move nearly like this, didn’t smile so hard his cheeks are burning from the use. 

Elvis is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he misses her foot positioned a certain way when he moves to pick her up for another lift and stumbles. A short curse leaves his lips as he moves to fall on one knee with Lilly falling onto his other knee. He hisses at the pain, knowing he’ll regret this move later, but he couldn’t have her falling to the ground, couldn’t have her risk being injured because he couldn’t catch her—because he lost his footing like a klutz. Except Lilly is still laughing, she’s still laughing and still putting off every bit of joy in the world in his lap. His eyes run down her body, seeing how she’s breathless, her chest heaving and pushing the buttons of her dress. He shouldn’t look and yet he sees, he sees how her chest is heaving in delight. As if to help himself—to keep himself from staring even longer his eyes dart down to her legs, down to her thighs where, oh Lord, her dress has risen up just a hair. Just enough to reveal more of her thigh, to reveal a hint of a stocking that has his mouth drying up the longer he stares. Her legs haven’t seemed to catch up with her brain and the rest of her body, thinking they’re still on the ground and needing to kick up and down almost like a child. There���s a playful exuberance in the action as she appears to not have a care in the world despite how the action has her dressing riding up that little bit more as she continues to giggle and kick at the air in his lap. The skin and the stockings threaten to overwhelm him as he feels the stirring in between his legs a moment too late as he sees Lilly’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” A singular word yet one that packs such a punch as he realizes what it means. What it means for her to utter it to him like that when she’s in his lap as his cock rises to attention like he’s back fresh from the army, wanting to dance with a new girl every night and yet here is one singular woman reacting in such a calm and startled way that he has to stop himself from tossing her off of him in a huff. Still, he lightly pushes at her in an effort to keep her from feeling just how aroused he is only to have her hand reach out and touch his face. Against his will, he nuzzles into her palm before remembering that he needs to make sure she’s not… she needs to be away from his lap. The—his cock—Lil Elvis was not needed here, she was married and he was not that young soldier returning from war any more, no he was merely this fat old man who let himself go and found himself lusting after a fellow church goer’s wife. His young wife. 

He misses her words before she repeats them, allowing them to cut through the haze he feels from having her looking up at him happy in his lap. “Your knee! I’m so sorry, Mr. Presley.” Her words are said in a rush as she scrambles to get up, her hand accidentally brushing across his cock before she finally stands up and holds out her hand. “Let me help you up, are you alright—?”

“‘M fine.” Elvis grunts out, as he pulls himself up using Lilly’s hand and his own strength. He hears his knee crack, wincing as it does. “Jus’... Lil–Lil darlin, I gotta, I need to go.”

Needs to get out of her house, needs to not be in front of a woman who has his cock standing at such intense attention that he knows if she looks down she’ll be shocked and horrified at him. He’s committing such an egregious sin even thinking of her this way, even viewing her in the light of a romantic partner, a sexual partner. Viewing her as his—no, he needs to find his way to his truck and to his house to be free of this temptation that he worries he’s about to succumb to. His eyes notice how her face falls but she doesn’t try to stop him, instead frowning and stepping away, smoothing out the bottom of her dress. As if he’s running away—fleeing her presence like all the other men in her life. He moves quicker than he has any right to, right on past her, forgetting about niceties and being a gentleman and wanting to make her happy, shutting the door behind him.

It only takes Lilly a few minutes to realize that she forgot to ask him something about Sunday school and his plans for this week. The question isn’t perhaps important but to her it is. And Mr. Presley has never once made her feel unimportant, so it is without hesitation that she trots outside to where she sees him still in his truck in her driveway muttering angrily to himself while looking down. Her mama had always told her it was rude to eavesdrop and yet here she was doing exactly that as she walked up to the truck, not immediately announcing her presence. She hears curses and mentions of his cock and “she’s a nice young woman, why are ya standin’ at attention like she ain’t married, boy. Like ya ain’t attached to an old man she’s jus’ spendin’ time with to be nice.” 

Lilly wants to correct him, wants to tell him that she values his company because it’s better than anything she’s received in so long and yet she doesn’t, instead choosing to come up to his side of the truck and lean against the window before moving just enough that she’s leaning her head inside the truck as well. What she sees—she could not have prepared herself for what she sees.

Feeling his interest in her is one thing that can be explained through the two of them dancing in a way that had her moving against him. It’s a natural response. Feeling it when she collapsed onto his knee, breathless and laughing with enough joy that she wishes she could chase till the ends of the Earth is one thing. Coming out to his truck because she forgot to ask him about his plans for Sunday school this week and seeing that same interest still there was another thing entirely. Lilly tries to keep her eyes focused on his face, tries to not allow her natural position of leaning into the car to make it easier for her to look down between his legs but her eyes drift there against her will. Her eyes drift and the olive of the suit doesn’t allow him to hide what’s going on. Instead it broadcasts exactly what he feels between his legs. 

There is a spot slowly growing in size on his jumpsuit. There is a spot where she felt his arousal. There is a wet spot on his jumpsuit for her. No, because of her. Mr. Presley is aroused by her, he’s aroused so much that it’s seeping through his clothing. Even when she was younger and fooling around with Nathan she hadn’t seen someone react to her as strongly as Mr. Presely is right now. The concept of breathing is foreign as she keeps looking down at it and she swears she sees the fabric twitch under her gaze. Somehow that twitch and the accompanying noise—the whimper, maybe—from him is almost like a harsh smack to her back to force the air to leave and enter her lungs. 

“Lil—Mrs. Harris.” Elvis’s words are choked out and he thanks God that his stutter didn’t reappear in that moment, the shame of everything making his skin feel flush and warm even as his cock twitches under her gaze, aching and wanting to play with its new friend, its friend it yearns for same as his heart and mind. Damn the societal norms and what’s proper for a good Christian man, he wants, he wants, he needs her to stop looking at it. “I’m—my face is up here.” His hand tightens against his thigh after he says that, almost as if he wants to wince. “What do ya need?”

Her eyes finally wrench themselves from the spot even as his cock twitches yet again, a wave of goodbye to her eyes—to her. What had she needed to tell him? What–What did she need from him other than—? No, it was church. God. It was about Sunday School. A shaky exhale leaves her mouth before she speaks. “I-I just wanted to make sure you–you might want my help again this week with the children? I know that since everyone—all the children seem to have gotten over the tummy trouble that we’ll—you’ll have your hands full and I—” 

The more she speaks the more her mind cycles back to what she’s seen, the more her breaths come by shorter and quicker, her chest heaving right near Elvis’s eye level and that… her dress has just enough of a sliver of skin showing he can see them heave with only her brassiere on, it’s threatening to drive him mad, threatening to cause him to reach out the hand he’s fisting into his jumpsuit to touch the skin. To touch her skin and feel if it’s as soft as it is on her arms and her thigh and— 

“Yes!” His answer is barked out, sounding more like an order than him merely answering a simple question in the affirmative. Forcing it out is the only thing he can do to calm his mind, to calm his cock, to get Lilly, Mrs. Harris to lean back out of his truck and to remove the temptation of her, her, her from his view. “You—please, I’d love your help, told ya before—the babies love ya.” He coughs, clearing his throat, as he remembers how she looks with a child in her lap, singing lullabies and cooing. It does nothing to help him calm his body, to help him calm his mind. “Is—Was that all ya needed?”

Lilly jumps a little at his bark, her breasts bouncing as she bonks her head against the top of the truck with a soft ouch leaving her mouth. Her hand moves to rub at her head as she pulls back a little, trying to keep her eyes looking firmly at his face versus where it had been. She hears him curse and feels his warm hand touching her head where she had hit it, gingerly investigating if she hurt herself in a major way. A hum and a feather soft touch that she wishes were his lips are what tells her she’s fine, there’s no damage done to her head. She should pull away, should finally stop leaning into his truck, should stop acting as if she’s a wife trying to have the last bit of attention from her husband before he leaves for work but she can’t help it. She can’t help how she wants to stay where she is, just because of how heady it feels to see his attraction—his desire for her. When was the last time she had seen Nathan like this? Lilly couldn’t remember. Couldn’t… the realization sucks the air out of the truck and Lilly feels every bit of heat and humidity in the cabin and around her skin. Her mouth opens and closes before she smiles softly at Mr. Presley. “Yes, that—yes. I just—I had forgotten to ask before so that was all I needed, Mr. Presley.” Her eyes glance back down at his lap to see how his hand is still clenching the fabric of his jumpsuit and how his cock once again twitches at her attention. She feels her skin flush and she shivers slightly when she finally starts to move back. 

Elvis looks at her as she leans back, watches her start to stand up straight by his truck and tries to not focus on her chest, tries to not focus how her breath seems shaky as she does this. His mind cannot think about what this means, cannot think about why she’s reacting in this way. She is not—he is not. They are not one. They are Elvis and Lilly. He’s so busy trying to make sure she’s out of his truck that he doesn’t realize she’s leaning back in until he feels the brush of her lips against his cheek. His head turns as if he wants to catch those lips only to realize she’s already left, only to realize she’s back to standing straight, acting as if she didn’t just kiss his cheek and looking so happy he can’t help but be reminded of an actual lily in full bloom. 

“I should–I should get goin’. Mr. Harris should be here soon. Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.” He looks down at his lap as he turns on the truck and sighs. He needs–he needs to get home, to wash away how dirty he feels in this moment. 

“You–you wouldn’t. But, yes, Nathan should be home soon. Thank you for, um, thank you dancing with me, Mr. Presley. I-It was—I haven’t had a good time like that in a bit.” Her upper teeth worry at her lower lip. “Perhaps… Maybe we can do that again some time. The next time I have to call you out.”

“May—you just have to ask, Lil darlin’.” His answer is airy, shocking him in how it sounds almost as if he’s in a tunnel or floating on air at the idea. The truck is finally ready to allow him to back out and he finally lets go of his jumpsuit to wave at her with a tight smile. “Good night, Mrs. Harris.” 

Elvis tries to not focus on how she looks in her driveway waving at him as if all her neighbors aren’t peering through the curtains wondering what’s happening next door. He tries to not focus on how she looks so natural waving to him with her arm cupping her waist almost as if she aches for… no, she–she wouldn’t. The heat and the events of the afternoon were causing him to think these dumb thoughts, these dumb desires. A shower would solve his problems once he got home. 

His mind wanders in the shower, a consequence of it being one that's meant to relax rather than to just cleanse him of the day's adventures. His mind wanders and rather than settling on the horrors of his memories that he can never get rid of, it settles on her. It settles on the comforting smell of her perfume and how she smells of a soap he swears his mama used to use. It settles on the light he sees in her eyes sometimes that burns brighter than any light bulb or sun or explosion he's ever seen. It settles on the comforting weight of her body against his when he danced with her, lifting her in the air like he was a decade younger and half a person smaller, he thinks. It settles on the weight of her body on his knee, an action that hurt and had him nearly stumbling and falling on top of her, but had him catching himself before he did. It settles on her face, so full of joy and life that it thawed something inside of him. It settles her face with a smile so big he smiles at the memory. It settles on the laugh and the feeling of her kicking her legs while on his knee. It remembers the glimpse of her thigh and—he looks down to see his cock at attention once again, precum already dripping out like he's turned on a faucet and he groans, his fist slamming against the wall as he tries to stop his other hand from wrapping around his cock. He fails miserably and shudders, his eyes shutting and mumbling her name, his mind picturing her sweet hand around it before she puts it in her mouth. His cheek burns when he comes.

Elvis tries to avoid thinking of what happened for the next week. He tries to avoid thinking of how his body can’t forget how it felt to have her notice his arousal, to have her touch his arousal however accidental the action was. He tries to avoid thinking of everything and yet he can’t. It mocks him to the point of near insanity. The guilt of wanting—the guilt of needing—the guilt of wishing has him visiting his mother’s grave one early morning after another restless night of sleep. His joints groan and ache as he sits down next to it.

“I met someone, Mama. I wish she wasn't married. You'd–you'd've loved her. Dances so well, perfect lil housewife. She'd–she'd take care of me like ya did. Take care of ya lil boobie right." Elvis huffs out a laugh. "God hasn't given… Hasn't blessed her wit' a baby and—she'd—it's a cryin' shame. I'd take care of her child any Sunday. Any day."

His mind drifts as he tells her more about Lilly, drifts to a world where it’s their children he takes care of and his stomach flips from the mere idea. Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery and yet he feels like he’s edging closer and closer to doing it. Feels as if something is going to break inside of him or between them soon. The prayers he sends to God every night are starting to include pleas to give him strength to resist his urges, to allow himself to remain on the correct path and to not allow himself to fall prey to his base desires. To fall prey to sin of the highest order, to wreck a marriage no matter how much pain and destruction it contains, no matter how the pain threatens to burst at the seams. 

“Don’t know why… Don’t understand why God is testing me like this. Lilly—Mrs. Harris—Miss Lilly deserves to be happy. Deserves to make a life with her husband and here the Lord wants to test me by putting–by putting her in front of me like this. By… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist. I—I wish she had met me before the war. ‘Fore all this.” 

Elvis feels a gust of wind in an otherwise calm breeze that settles him down as he tries to work himself up. It settles him down and reminds him of his mother’s listening to him and protecting him even in death. Knowing her, she might be trying to have a talk with the Lord Himself right in this very moment. 

“Thank you, Mama,” he whispers as he moves to stand up, running his hand across the top of the headstone. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Something is different about today, another day Nathan where once again told her to send for the man who tempts her, unable or unwilling to mend his own house. It no longer feels like Nathan’s house, and that should be worrisome to her. Instead, something is different in the air between them and Lilly wonders if Elvis can feel it, if he can't feel how her heart is beating out of her chest when their fingers brush against each other as they swap ingredients. If he can't feel how her breath catches every time she looks up at him and sees him staring at her, watching her stir something or sprinkle a bit of salt onto the food. She wonders if he can hear her thoughts, hear what nasty things her brain thinks watching him be so domestic with her. She wonders what it would be like to be his wife instead of Nathan's. 

Her hands are dirty, covered in raw juice from the chicken and she knows she needs to wash them before cutting up the collards and the snap peas and—Lord she knows she's making far too much food but perhaps Elvis can take some home and remember today. Remember the care the two of them put into the meal. Her mother had always taught her to put the same amount of love in food as you would put into the person you make it for. Perhaps it should worry her that her heart feels fit to burst with her love for this food. It doesn't take too long for her to wash up and grab the towel and yet it's enough time for Elvis to reach a dish above her in the cabinet by her head. It's enough time to have him press up against her, his stomach a warm and solid yet soft presence behind her. It's enough time for her body to freeze in place, before she feels herself sway back a little and feels her breath leave her mouth all at once. It's enough time that Elvis notices these things, sees his reflection against the glass of the window above the sink and sees Lily's against his. He sees—he sees her eyes shut and her head bow as he feels her body shudder. 

A dam—the dam holding back any shred of self control Elvis had breaks in that moment. It breaks the second he feels her body shudder against him, the second he sees her melt into his embrace like she belongs there. A groan leaves his lips unbidden and Lilly, sweet Lilly, whimpers at the sound, her eyes opening and seeing the erotic vision of the two of them still clothed against each other. Her body rocks back even as his arm snakes around her trying to hold her in place, trying to keep her from moving against him and yet it barely works, her body seeks him out, wishes for more than what he’s giving her and he–he can’t oblige. She doesn’t know what she wants. His lips brush against the shell of her ear, his breath a hot dagger against her skin. “You want this?”

A simple question. The most simple question with the most simple answer. A yes or a no determines Elvis’s actions in this moment. A no will have him backing away and apologizing profusely, a yes will have him granting her what she needs, what she wants. It will have him giving into the temptation he should resist but cannot any more. The temptation that the Lord must be putting him through for a reason, some higher plan he doesn’t understand quite yet. 

“Elvis, please,” Lilly’s voice is a whisper but Elvis hears his name finally fall from her lips and hears how desperate her please is and before he realizes it his hand moves to unzip his jumpsuit to reach down at the bottom, to try free his cock as Lilly starts to whine, wishing for more. Wishing for his touch.

As her chest heaves with quick breaths that Elvis tries to steady, a hand snakes up her body until it reaches her chest, covering so much of it that it ignites something primal within him. He’s always known he’s a large man and yet the way he sees her breasts rise and fall with his hand covering one is to know another thing entirely. He almost moves it away before Lilly stops him, her own hand covering his. There’s a tug of his hand forcing it into the gap between her dress and the skin of her neck and collarbone and Elvis can’t help but oblige her desire even as the heat from her body threatens to set the whole of his hand on fire. 

“I gotcha, Lil darlin'. Elvis's gotcha." His words are practically inaudible, they're said so low and deep from within his chest, but Lilly seems to get the message as her breaths start to slow, beginning to match pace with Elvis’s. He’s got her and she can relax. He’s got her and he’s going to take care of the ache inside of her. The ache she’s felt every day she’s seen him since he fixed her oven. Lilly’s brain swears it hears something about him needing to pull down his jumpsuit fully, something about the damn buttons and zippers and she feels her mouth moving to offer to help before she feels the heat of what has to be his bare chest against her dress. 

In another time and in another place he would have her help him, have her lift up her dress and help him with her undergarments but the way she sways and moves against him has him realizing he can’t trust her to do such a thing, he can’t trust her to be able to help him the way he needs her to. It’s not a problem and a selfish part of him thanks the Lord for it, thanks the Lord that she won’t turn around and that she won’t have her hand brush up against his unclothed cock. His foreskin won’t scare her off. He won’t scare her off with the intensity of his arousal and of how his cock is already dripping his precum onto her kitchen floor. It takes some maneuvering and he leans against her, pushing her against the sink, his body practically covering her as he lifts up her skirt and manages to pull her underwear down. Her vagina—her pussy—her flower is glistening just from the touches he’s given her. Nathan truly had been forsaking the wife he promised to love and cherish in the house of God if this is all it took to see this level of pleasure from Lilly. His fingers move to touch, to just feel the slick of her arousal. The cry she lets out nearly has him jumping away and yet he knows he can’t, knows after hearing that noise from her mouth he needs to hear it again. He wants to wrench it from her over and over until she’s hoarse. 

Elvis takes his time sinking into the wet heat between her legs, he’s seen the pictures of Nathan and seen the man in person once before. There is no conceivable way she is used to someone of his size inside of her and he'd be damned before he ever injured her in any way. Let alone when he’s—no, he won’t think of that, won’t think of anything other than treating her as she deserves to be treated by a man. By her own husband but he’ll do—he can do what her husband won’t. His eyes can’t help but watch even as his mind tells him not to. His eyes can’t help but watch how her hole stretches around him, trying to take him in bit by bit. The memory sears itself into his brain and he knows in that moment he won’t likely be able to forget this, won’t be able to walk away from this unscathed. 

Her body feels full, between her legs feels full, she feels so full even as she knows there has to be more. He’s as long as her husband but Nathan’s never filled her like this. It’s almost as if she can’t breathe, the shock to her system too great. She wants to tell Elvis this, wants to tell him this is too much, she doesn’t know if she can handle this and all that comes out of her mouth is noises she’s never heard. Whimpers and whines as he pushes in slowly but surely, his grip on her never faltering, the reassurances never stopping. He’s got her. He’ll have her through all of this. He’s got her even as he bottoms out inside her, a growl of pleasure coming from deep within his chest. The hair on his stomach is against her backside, rubbing against her bare skin in a way that shouldn’t serve to heighten her pleasure and yet it’s all her mind can focus on- it’s the only thing that is bringing her back to the earth, back to the present moment. His thrusts are gentle… almost slow and inviting in the way he pulls out, the stretch of his cock erring just enough on the side of comfortable despite how she feels almost as if it’s catching on something inside of her but that can’t be true, Nathan’s never had that problem, why would Elvis be having it despite how he possesses more girth. 

Elvis wishes this was different, wishes he could have her against the sink with her facing him but that’s—this isn’t about what he wants and desires. This is about Lilly, isn’t it? This is about making sure she knows how someone in this world wants to treat her with the love and care he’s trying to treat her with. This is about making sure the pleasure she feels is almost too much, that it threatens to overwhelm her. This is about her and making sure she is happy and taken care of by him. His head had moved down, kissing at her neck, one hand trying to fondle her breasts while the other hand was resting firmly against her lower stomach, practically cradling where her uterus is—not that he realizes. He knows his body isn’t equipped to last too much longer, his age and everything slowing him down just that little bit and yet the slap of his stomach, the slap of his skin against Lilly’s has his thrusts getting stronger as she tries to thrust back, needy in ways that—from the sound of her sighs—she’s not used to. 

“More.” A sob she tries to choke back. “Please.”

The only thing he has to give her is his come, that’s all he has left from his thrusting, he can’t go any deeper, can’t stretch that little pink hole any more than it already is. He can’t give her anything else that isn’t already there as he hears the squelch between the two of them. Hears how his cock is welcomed by her body, how she’s wet and it’s only been made worse by his precum and he–he has to look up. He has to see the picture they make in the window if only for his own sanity, if only to perhaps settle his roaring mind. 

A second too late he realizes he shouldn’t have looked. A second too late he realizes that seeing the line of her throat as she leaned her head back against his shoulder in pleasure is too much. A second too late he feels his hips stutter as he feels himself coming, feels his come fill the spaces his cock isn’t filling inside of her, adding even more liquid between them and making the noises louder. Her mouth is open as she pants and as he’s looking in the window, watching as the rays from the sunset illuminate the pair of them in an almost heavenly glow, Lilly looks up and catches his eyes. 

Her eyes tighten just a bit as she realizes what’s happened, as she realizes he’s had his release. His hips aren’t moving as he pants behind her, trying to recuperate and trying to catch his breath. Her eyes tighten and her shoulders start to follow suit. This—this is something she knew, this is an outcome she knows. This is where Elvis pulls out of her and leaves her aching and wanting. This is where Elvis and Nathan are the exact same two men when it comes to her desires and needs. She can’t look, can’t watch as he pulls out of her and leaves her to be slumped over the kitchen sink. Minutes pass and yet he’s still inside of her, he’s still inside of her and she can feel half thrusts against her backside, his release and her arousal and whatever else squishing and squelching as he moves. Some trickles down her leg as she shivers in anticipation at what’s happening. There isn’t a reference point, she has nothing to compare this to and yet it feels so right. This feels how it’s supposed to be. 

Elvis can feel she hasn’t come, he knows—he may not know her body inside and out but he knows how women tick, he knows if he were to pull out of her he’d be no better than—he wouldn’t have done what he set out to do against this sink. It’s as if his body and his cock know this, too, and through a grace or an act of God he can feel himself firming back up the more he thrusts into her, the obscene noises between her legs spurring him on. Her gasp sounds like a plea and a hymn all in one. She hadn’t been prepared for this, he can tell in how her movements are scrambled as she starts to rock with him. Could it be that she was chasing after her release? Could it be that she just needed that extra push? He’s already in so deep and his thrusts are going deeper and deeper but the angle, the angle is all wrong. 

“Elv—” Lilly starts before he shushes her softly, his hand moving to between her legs as she keens softly. He doesn’t go where she feels he needs to, where she can feel her body throbbing and she needs him to understand that he’s missing it—he’s missing where she needs him to be but that’s when she hears it. 

He’s cooing, crooning, he’s talking so gently to her, praising her as she tries to stand on her toes, trying to change the angle. If only she was higher up. If only she could allow him even deeper, deep enough for him to be where she feels she needs him to be. A whine leaves her lips as his hand still doesn’t move to help and settles on her thigh, grabbing it and squeezing it as he lifts it up onto the counter gently as he can.

“Let Elvis take care of ya darlin'. You're feelin' something, ain't ya? Somethin' right there, right? You just need help with it, don't ya?” His words have the fire growing inside of her, have her whimpering and nodding because yes, yes, she feels something, she feels that there’s something there. What that is she doesn’t know, only knows that he’s giving it to her, he’s coaxing it from her as she feels him so deep inside she wonders how he fits.

Her hand moves down to between her legs, wanting to touch him, it, herself only to have his hand that had still been fondling her breasts, playing with her nipples to swat it away with a small tsk, “no, no, Lilly, let Elvis—let me take care of you the way you need. Do—can I touch you there? Help you rub yourself there?”

A groan, high pitched and almost anguished leaves her mouth as his fingers finally move between her legs, finally reach the part between her legs that throbs in time with her heart. The sob that escapes her mouth comes from deep within her, a release before he’s even properly touched her. He’s got her. Elvis has got her. He’ll take care of her. 

Elvis is taking care of her as his fingers, calluses and all, brush against her clit, slowly but with such intent that Lilly finds herself arching against Elvis, the strength of his body behind her making arching forward impossible. Her pussy clenches around Elvis’s cock, fluttering while still trying to milk him for all he’s worth. It’s hard to tell who’s making which noise as he thrusts into her, chasing his second release inside of her, never thinking of the lack of protection between them. His groans and her moans and their breaths are a symphony of sounds echoing through the kitchen, his glasses askew on his nose as he watches Lilly lean forward whining, almost as if she’s passing out. His own body follows hers, leaning against her, the sweat between them fusing them together as much as their come is. 

Their breath is the only sound in the room.