#Adam’s is. For reasons that are more about Adam and Blue and what relationships and treatment work for them rather than objectively tallyin

[cabeswaterdrowned]

Sorry (not) but I find anyone who acts like Blue is making something out of nothing when she’s mad Adam’s first question is about the kissing to be like. Deeply suspicious. Of course she is mad that’s the first thing he asked her! They’ve been walking on eggshells around each other and not really communicating since the last aborted kiss attempt which is on both of them to some degree, but when he comes around to her it’s only for this and when she has so many fears and insecurities about not properly belonging in the gang because she’s a girl (which is founded based on the fact aside from Noah they’ve all been misogynistic towards her at some point even if it was passive) and not being respected, when she’s also an outsider at home because of a different thing she can’t control. And you can not say that her feeling Adam is treating her like a thing to have and not a person he connects with is unfounded he again literally “I got Blue without you!” screamed at Gansey, consistently going to her after they fight (he did it end of TRB after repugnant too) to validate himself or just generally when he’s falling apart looking for validation from her like in the apartment scene. It’s not a bad thing to seek validation from your partner and in TRB before I’d say the last quarter I think Blue and Adam were genuinely connecting and developing a friendship while also exploring their feelings/attractions to each other, which did always have elements of seeking escape or validation for both of them in different ways, but it’s dissolved into that so much now. And I do think Blue is to some degree mad at Adam because he’s here and available to be mad at when she’s also mad at Gansey for it (I don’t think they’re *in the wrong * for not inviting her but they are in the wrong for not even considering she could want to go or at least want to be in the loop, also even though it’s Gansey’s party if Adam is trying to be her *boyfriend* it was kind of his place to ask her) so she’s conveying anger at Adam when the anger is for both of them, and also more general factors she’s frustrated by, but also Adam has the exact same response of channeling emotions that aren’t solely about Blue through their fights (and to his credit he is self aware that he does this) so again crucifying Blue for it is whack imo. Also to check myself on shipper-brain for the Adam-Gansey aspect of it, well obviously I read that here as a factor because I’m me, but for arguments sake on the premise Adam has No feelings about Gansey that are anything other than platonic Blue would still have a right to be mad about him prioritizing his platonic male friends over her and treating them with more respect, obviously, because misogyny exists (also these are not two contradictory readings in that I think they’re both factors. Signed an Adam Stan).

[unnecessarilygrandiose]

you ever see an opinion that's soooooooooooooooooo close to getting the point and yet somehow simultaneously managed to miss it by fivety thousand light years

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT I

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: not sure what this is but let me know if u want more lol

You’d think that hiding behind the Spymaster of the Night Court, a literal Shadowsinger, would allow you to blend in well enough to go unnoticed.

The auburn silk of your dress is a near perfect match to the grandeur of the Autumn Court ballroom you’re unfortunate enough to have to be in, and you tell yourself that the attempt at camouflage is the reason you were so drawn to the colour.

When Rhysand approached you and the rest of the Inner Circle with the invitation of a ball thrown by Eris to celebrate his newly inherited title of High Lord, your sister Nesta had dragged you out to shop for new dresses. You were adamant to wear an old gown until the dress caught your eye, the gold beads glinting in the light, almost mimicking a gently burning fire. The deep orange hue of the silk slip was muted ever so slightly by the sheer overlay, cinching at the waist before cascading to the ground and the wisps of fabric around your legs gave the illusion of sparks every time you moved.

Nesta had made a comment about the dress being perfect for Autumn Court and you had to physically restrain yourself from grimacing. You just liked the colour. It didn’t mean a thing.

Nesta and Feyre looked like perfect representatives of the Night Court and even Elain was donning soft shades of purple and blue tonight, a perfect embodiment of twilight. You loved your sisters, but you felt like you never quite fit in to the Night Court the way they had grown to. And you certainly felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb tonight.

Eris was definitely going to comment on the dress and you curse yourself internally, not having thought it through. He was jarring at the best of times, let alone a night that was solely dedicated to him. And you were dressed in the colours of his court.

You were extremely glad when Eris’ mother was the one to greet you all when you first entered the Autumn Court and not him. It allowed you to fully appreciate the beauty of his lands with unrestrained awe. Your sisters knew that Autumn had always been your favourite season, so the way you were so happy catching each falling leaf out of the sky was even more amusing to them considering they also knew how little patience you had for Eris.

That’s why you find yourself hiding behind Azriel’s wings tonight. As soon as you spot Eris making his way to greet Rhysand and Feyre, you sneak behind the Shadowsinger in an attempt to make yourself invisible.

“Seriously?” mutters the Illyrian, but he stays still for you all the same.

“Keep quiet,” you hiss, prodding him in the back. “You know very well how much he targets me. Gods, I thought he hated Cassian, but I seriously give him a run for his money.”

Mor, overhearing you, snorts into her cup. She creeps up next to you, lowering her voice to match yours. “You are so oblivious. He doesn’t hate you. He wants-”

“Might I interrupt the riveting conversation that I’m sure is going on behind the Shadowsinger’s wings?” you hear a voice drawl from in front. Your blood runs hot at being caught and you nearly burst into flames when Azriel starts to lower his wings, revealing you and Mor. She rolls her eyes at Eris’ attitude and walks away to talk to the pretty faerie in the green dress.

The years have softened the strained relationship between the Circle and Eris and none of them view him as a threat any longer. That doesn’t mean they find him any less irritating though.

Eris smiles at you when you cross your arms and clench your jaw, already feeling impatience with him bubbling up inside of you. He glances down at your dress and his lips quirk up a little higher. “Looking stunning as ever, Y/N.”

The others have already dispersed, and even Rhysand and Feyre have started to garner the attention of other important people they need to talk to. As they start to leave however, Rhysand speaks to in your head. Let me know if he’s bothering you too much. Just… try not to throw a plate at his face this time, please.

You glare at the back of Rhysand’s head. That was one time.

He doesn’t respond but you see his shoulders shaking with laughter for a millisecond before Feyre nudges him to behave in front of an Autumn Court official.

“Talking about me?” Eris asks, amused. You open your mouth to snap back at him, but notice the growing number of guests that are around the two of you now that the others have moved away. You bite your tongue for once. He is the High Lord now after all.

You plaster on a sweet smile. “Only good things… High Lord.”

Eris raises his brows at that, but chooses not to comment. He holds out his hand instead. “Dance with me.”

You’re about to laugh in his face and tell him absolutely not, but his request has caught the attention of a couple guests and they nosily look over in what you’re sure they think is a subtle way. “I’m a little tired. Sorry,” you say through gritted teeth, still smiling.

“Surely you’re not going to deny me such a small request on tonight of all nights?” he says softly, part mocking and part pleading.

You know for a fact he won’t force you to dance, but if you deny him in front of the other guests, it’ll undermine him and while you dislike him, you’re not that cruel. Plus, Feyre would probably have your head if you were to insult a High Lord in public. In private, she only ever laughs when you disparage him, but appearances are everything.

“Of course not,” you deadpan, reaching for his outstretched hand and trying not to react to the way the warmth radiating through his palm is warming your previously cold fingers.

He leads you into the crowd of dancing guests, placing his free hand on your waist as you rest yours on his shoulder, keeping a respectable distance. He rolls his eyes and tugs you forward so your chest is nearly flush against his own. When you glare at him, he merely smirks. “It’s a little hard for two people to dance when one of them is halfway across the room from the other.”

You hear a giggle from one of the guests near you and nearly whip around to glare at them. Eris catches the expression on his face and it’s as though he can read your mind with the way he’s holding back a grin. “My apologies,” you mumble, before lowering your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “Smartass.”

“I do so enjoy your pet names for me,” Eris teases, utterly unbothered. Every time you interact with him, you swear to yourself you’ll keep a cool head. And every time, you fail. “I like your dress.”

You narrow your eyes at the compliment, but since he hasn’t actually said anything insulting or with a double meaning like he usually does, you don’t have anything to be annoyed about and begrudgingly accept the nice words. “Thank you.”

“You look ravishing in the colours of my court.”

You step on his foot.

He hisses in pain, but the grin doesn’t leave his face when he sees that he’s succeeded in irritating you.

“I didn’t choose the colours on purpose,” you say, defensively. “I just happened to like the dress.”

“You know, you often happen to like Autumn colours,” he muses, expression turning thoughtful and not in a sarcastic way this time. “Or any colour that isn’t of the Night Court’s fashion. Tell me, do your sisters know how you long to find someplace you actually belong?”

Your stomach drops and you feel like you’ve been doused in freezing cold water.

“I wasn’t aware you were a Daemati, High Lord,” you say, scowling. Eris furrows his brows at the title and spins you out before bringing you back in, this time a little closer than before. “You’re wrong.”

“Stop calling me that,” he mutters, a hint of impertinence in his voice. It takes you by surprise since you assumed he’d be revelling in all the glory, the power of High Lord coursing through his veins. Instead, he sounds like a boy being denied his favourite sweets. “Call me Eris again.”

“No.” You frown at him, pulling back slightly to meet his stubborn gaze. “We’re not friends. You’re the High Lord of Autumn now and I’ll be addressing you as such.”

“What, I’m High Lord now, so you have to respect me all of a sudden?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you sigh, already anticipating this conversation taking a turn you don’t want it to.

“You have to be pleasant with me?”

“Yes.”

“Listen to my commands?”

“Yes.”

His smile turns wolfish. “Then I command you to call me Eris.”

“I can think of a few other things to call you, if not High Lord,” you mutter, careful not to allow any eavesdroppers to hear.

“And while I’d love to hear them, I doubt they’d be suitable for the delicate ears of court officials.”

While he’s exactly right, the way his eyes twinkle with mischief tells you that he’s insinuating a completely different type of unsuitable and your cheeks burn.

“Don’t you ever tire of being so wearisome?” you say, drily. His eyes soften ever so slightly as they scan over your face.

“Don’t you ever tire of pretending?” he asks quietly, meeting your eyes determinedly. You don’t bother asking him to clarify.

“Why can’t you just mind your own business?” You try to snap at him, but the way his words hit you deep have all the bite leaving your voice and instead you sound imploring.

Eris doesn’t answer your question and just keeps going as the two of you dance. “My mother wants me to tell you that you’re welcome to visit any time, by the way.”

“I’ll let Rhysand know.”

“She didn’t say Rhysand, she said you.”

”What?” You look up at him, shocked. That was probably the last thing you expected him to say, “Why in the world would your mother want me to visit? She saw me hurl that plate at your head last month.”

“Yes, and she told me I probably said something to deserve it,” he grumbles, but without any real malice when talking about his mother. It’s clear as day that he has nothing but love for the sweet woman.

“She’s a smart one, your mother,” you say, grinning at the thought of Eris being reprimanded. You catch him watching you without speaking and immediately frown, not wanting him to think you’re actually smiling at him. Which you definitely aren't. “I still don’t understand why she wants me to visit.”

Eris shrugs, although his eyes stray from yours, and he’s seemingly bored with the conversation as he looks down to the floor as your feet move gracefully across it. “She likes your attitude.”

“My bad attitude?” you ask, wrinkling your nose in genuine confusion.

“Passionate,” he corrects you, meeting your eyes again, and you find no traces of humour in them. “And ‘fiery’ as she called it. Don’t feel bad for not being able to always control your emotions in front of others like the rest of them. You’re allowed to feel.”

Any response you might have had is lost to nothing and the silence stretches as your heart feels like it’s slamming against your chest. It’s a mix of fear and something else with the way he’s looking at you and you suddenly need to be anywhere else.

Clearing your throat, you step back in the middle of dancing and lower your hand from his shoulder to smooth down your dress. Your other hand is still ensnared in his and it lingers there while he speaks.

“If you do accept my mother’s invitation, you don’t have to see me if you don’t want to,” Eris adds and you try and listen out for any veiled mocking.

“Why do you even care?”

At this, his lips quirk up almost involuntarily. Slowly, his fingers start to loosen up around your hand and he begins to let go, faintly trailing his hand down your own as he does so. Instead of stepping away, he walks closer, stepping to the side slightly to lean down so his lips brush against your ear in a way that makes your breathing erratic.

“My mother was telling me that she saw you practically light up like a forest fire surrounded by the trees. She feels as though you should be able to stay longer next time,” he says in a normal voice before lowering it to a whisper. “She also overheard one of your sisters call Autumn your favourite season.”

Before you can protest and, let’s face it, lie to him, Eris calmly walks away and you know for a fact that the smug bastard is smirking at the way he’s succeeded in getting under your skin.

There’s no way you’re accepting his mother’s invitation, as sweet a woman as she is. You think about all the possible ramifications and decide to push the thought in its entirety out of your mind.

Nothing good ever comes from agreeing to dance with Eris. It’s extremely similar to playing with fire, you think.

[the-darklings]

FOR YOUR ARCANE PROMPTS LIST POOKIE: "hands under your lover's clothes" w/Silco??? perhaps?? perchance?? PLS PLS POOKIE, MY GLORIOUS QUEEN, MY EVERYTHING <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ silco x gn!reader, complicated relationship, a little angst, no spoilers for s2, cat & mouse dynamic but who is who? wc: 768

“It’s dangerous playing games with a patient man.”

“Are you? Patient?”

Silco’s mouth flutters into what could pass for a fleeting smile. It’s a rare expression on him, an ease that is seldom seen in the years since he left Vander’s side. Nowadays, he is nothing like the fresh-faced youth so desperate to fix the world you first met.

“More so than many, I’d reckon,” he replies placidly, watching you with idle interest. You lean on his oak wood desk, the rough grain of the wood warm beneath your fingers as you skim over his notes and ledgers. His meticulous nature is evident in the way he organised everything about the Shimmer trade. It’s almost irritating. “You are here for a reason.”

The gentle accusation falls on deaf ears.

“I was just saying hello,” you drawl, your voice low, swinging your attention his way. Silco’s scoff is a low, throaty sound, barely audible, but filled with disdain. 

You’re not sure when it started, you and him. If it was survival or a desire for a better life that drove you both from the start. You wanted freedom and independence and then he took the Undercity, and, in a way, you too. Since then, you’ve existed in his sphere, enjoying his favour. Flaunt it without making it obvious, slipping past the cracks of his rules. 

He appears so collected on his chair, a king on his throne in truth, but his immaculate clothes are wrinkled, buttons undone, and his Adam’s apple bobs when you touch his tie. You know better than to go near his throat. The last time you did, fingers eager and teeth nipping at the taut flesh there, he jerked back as if shocked. Terror and rage had overcome him, twisting you on his bed, still tangled in each other, before you could turn back your instincts. When his hands closed around your throat in response, you didn’t fight him off, and maybe it was that above all else that made Silco snap out of his spell.

No, instead, you slip your hand past the unbuttoned shirt, tracing over his sharp collarbone. Silco rests his cheek lightly on his hand, watching you through a narrowed eyed stare. Daring you, yes, but also curious. The heavy scarring on his face never bothered you. You didn’t lack scars of your own, but this… 

You slip forward, knee resting on the chair between his parted legs, hand slipping lower, to rest over his thudding heart. 

“Hello.” Your lips shape the word before you breathe them against his lips again. Your free hand cups his face and the hard beat of his heart echoes against your palm. 

The kiss is gentle, more civilised than either of you are used to, a sweetness that lingers even though it’s not what either of you normally craves, but when he doesn’t pull away, a secret thrill shoots up your spine. His deep inhale fills your ears, the heat of his lips imprinting on yours. A deep, rumbling sound vibrates through his chest when you deepen the kiss, your fingers moving in gentle circles over his skin. 

With a viper’s swiftness, Silco snaps his hand behind your head when you break the kiss, keeping you close. Nose to nose, your breaths mingle. You can’t quite tell what lingers in his burning gaze, one icy blue, another molten gold. 

“Are you hoping to endear yourself to me?” he asks, knowing and throaty. “A foolish play.”

“I won’t say that,” you say, breathless. “And if I was… well, I think you’re holding up just fine.”

Licking your lips, you pull back, grinning at him. He hasn’t moved, his knuckles returning to his cheek. Nonchalant, except for the heavy weight with which he still examines you. Silco won’t indulge you in admitting you do this because you’re the only one he can rely on in this shitty, twisted world of yours. You support his vision, you’ve always believed it, even when you were younger. 

Adjusting your dishevelled clothes, you look over at him once more. Not so crisp and orderly for once. Satisfaction nestles in your gut at the observation that the usually perfectly groomed and dressed man—this infamous crime lord—is a mess in the dim light of his office. Undone. Caught. Even if predatory hunger reflects in that golden hue. 

You wag your fingers in a playful wave. “It’s dangerous playing games with patient people, love, haven’t you heard?”

[silverbladexyz]

TW: Mentions of death, injuries, self-loathing. Part 2 to this. Part 3 is here.

"I can't believe you sometimes. What if you had actually been killed because of your recklessness?!"

"But I wasn't! Even if combat isn't my strong suit, I had it all under control; and besides, these wounds are nothing compared to what we've faced before!"

In the normally tranquil environment of the Port Mafia's infirmary, two voices argued back and forth. One laced with worry and anger, the other laced with guilty adamance. A pair of best friends seemed to be the reason behind this noise; with their stubbornness a guise of the true feelings that they harboured for each other.

"Are you seriously kidding me right now? Even if you had it all under control, that doesn't mean you can gamble your life away like it's nothing! How do you think everyone would feel if you died? Do you want to put them through more pain and suffering that could've been prevented if you were more cautious? Do you even care?!"

"..."

Instead of replying, you turned away, suddenly finding the window to be more interesting than whatever was going on right now.

He was right. You didn't think properly about the consequences before you jumped straight in to engage with the enemy, even if you may have had a backup plan.

"... I'm sorry."

It was soft, but Chuuya managed to catch it.

He gave a small sigh, his shoulders dropping as the tension in them wore out. You fiddled with your bandages, not having the courage to look at him in the eyes. Did you even deserve to, afterall? When you worried him sick after he learnt that he almost lost you?

You heard his footsteps approaching you, and mentally prepared for the next thing that he was going to say.

Only for him to somewhat tug you into his arms.

Your eyes widened, and you blinked several times before realising that Chuuya Nakahara, your best friend, was hugging you.

His breath fanned against your collarbone as he buried his face into your shoulder. Strong arms held you close to him, being mindful of the injuries that you sustained on your body- yet the grip they held you in was tight but secure.

"... You idiot. Don't you dare do that again."

It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

You hugged him back, inhaling his rich scent as an unknown heat bloomed in your chest.

"I won't. I promise, Chuuya."

His warmth never left your memories.

Now, you watched as he stood with her, holding her hand. They were too far away for you to make out their words, but whatever she said made Chuuya laugh. A genuine, happy laugh that seemed so much more different from the short chuckles he normally gave you.

He put his arm around her shoulder, and you unconsciously hugged your body as you felt yourself getting colder. It was the third of December- the start of another winter in Yokohama. Marking the six month anniversary of their relationship.

A wry smile made it's way on your face as Chuuya pulled Yasuko in for a kiss. Even though it was a short peck, it was enough to make your heart twist in longing that exemplified whenever you were around him. It was stupid; you knew that your best friend deserved to have someone much better than the monster you were, but it didn't stop you from wishing that you were her. Someone that was a sight for sore eyes, with an aura brighter than the blue skies- someone that could get Chuuya mesmerised.

You even noticed how he became slightly more distant in the friendship. You knew that he wasn't doing it on purpose; he was still the great best friend that he always was, but the little signs were there. Holding your hand so that you wouldn't get lost in the crowd had diminished to just staying close to you. Whenever you called him on a free day to ask if he wanted to hang out with you, he would apologise, saying 'I have a date with Yasuko later'. And the fact that you had the same free days really said something about how much they meant to him.

You walked away, the sight getting too much to handle. Once you were at a safe distance, you crumpled against a wall, biting down on the inside of your mouth to stop the tears from leaking out. A higher-ranking mafioso like you, crying over some crush? Pathetic. An unfitting model for your subordinates who looked up to you as a great unflinching leader.

"Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty." You chuckled bitterly, digging your nails into your palms. You hated it- the soft gaze in Chuuya's eyes whenever Yasuko was mentioned, the way that he gently held her hand, the way he became much more sweet and patient with her that was almost nothing like how he acted around you- you hated it all. You regretted not confessing to him sooner all those years ago.

But you were only the side character in their romance; forever doomed to support them while you suffered in silence.

Was there something or somebody that you could blame for this agony that you were currently in? Destiny, perhaps? Or even Cupid? Those names only made you scoff as you stuffed your hands into your pockets.

There was nobody you could blame except for yourself.

Perhaps it would have been better if you were the one who saved Yasuko, not Chuuya. They would have never spent as much time with each other, and you'd still have a chance at romancing him. None of this would have happened if the roles were reversed at that time.

But who were you kidding? One way or another, they’d end up together by the red string of fate. The most perfect match in all of Yokohama that could put every other couple to shame. And you'd always be the third wheel- the 'best friend' whose sacrifices went unseen just so that they could be happy.

Or maybe it would have been better if Yasuko didn't exist in the first place.

"-Y/N? Y/N?"

A voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you blinked a bit before refocusing onto the girl in front of you.

"Is everything okay? N-not that you have to tell me what's wrong, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll always be here for you."

Yasuko looked at you with a concerned expression, her eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

Those innocent, beautiful eyes of hers that had held Chuuya captive in their gaze.

Ah, right. You were currently in the shopping mall with her, because her boyfriend had asked you to accompany her like some sort of bodyguard. And who were you to refuse, as his best friend who was always there for him? Well, you were grateful that Chuuya trusted you enough to let you near Yasuko. You had seen how protective he was of her.

"... Nothing. I'm alright."

You smiled at her, all traces of your previous emotions now gone. How could you have let your composure slip so easily? This hangout was so that you could 'get closer' with her, not reminiscing about the pathetic past that held you captive in this agonising love.

She frowned a little, but before she could say anything else, you jumped at the opportunity to distract her. Anything that could make you temporarily forget your pain for one moment was what you desperately needed now.

"Oh, looks like they're selling discounted jewellery! Let's take a look! You might find something that you like."

Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her towards the jewellery store despite having no intentions to buy anything. You simply wanted her to be distracted by the precious stones, so meticulously cut and fit into fine metal that it was laughable how they were mostly for show. A valuable trinket only made to be admired and forgotten at the end of the day, even when so much blood had been spilled over them. Blood that would forever stain the hands of a sinner such as you.

"Oh! I remember Chuuya taking me to a similiar store! He bought me a ring; I said that there was no need, but he insisted." Yasuko glanced down at the gold-and-red circlet that lay snugly around her index finger, her gaze becoming shyer as she profoundly remembered the day that her beloved boyfriend had bought it for her.

Your own silver ring that he gifted to you on your 18th birthday paled in comparison to the 5-carat Burmese ruby that sat atop her finger. It was a harsh reminder of who the buyer really preferred from between the two of you. That twisted feeling in your gut resurfaced, but you pushed it back down. You had no more frivolous hopes that he would one day realise you were the one whom he truly belonged with.

"Haha... did he now? I didn't know Chuuya was such a romantic. Did you know that rubies symbolise passionate and undying love?" You smiled as she blushed; the redness on her cheeks rivaling the shade of the precious gemstone that was proof of his commitment to her.

People were right when they said love hurts, but they never mentioned that it was the most painful sensation in the world. All the stab wounds and burns and whatnot that you had experienced from your enemies were nothing compared to a broken heart. A heart that was made to be torn apart to pieces as it weeps for the love it would never get.

Something cold brushed against your wrist, and you looked down to see a bracelet made up of the most exquisite yellow topaz. Yasuko held an identical one in her hand, her expression almost bashful as she faced you.

"I... I wanted to get matching bracelets for the two of us. I know it's only been a few months since we became friends, but being around you has really brightened up my life. I'm glad that we got to meet each other, and I hope that our friendship continues to grow and strengthen!"

She smiled at you; a smile so full of purity and beauty that it would've made many men fall onto her knees in front of her. It was a smile that didn't belong in the dark depths of Yokohama- instead, it belonged to a goddess that was too good for this world. A goddess that clearly deserved to call Nakahara Chuuya hers. Just seeing that smile made you feel infinitely more guilty about the nasty thoughts you had about her each night.

Yasuko's smile faded, worried that she might have overstepped your boundaries due to your silence.

"S-sorry... I should've asked you beforehand if you wanted to buy matching bracelets. Please don't force yourself to buy it just to make me happy-"

You shut her up by slipping it onto your right wrist, the topaz seeming to reflect the sun's golden rays back at you. Shooting her a smile, you grasped Yasuko's hand and put the other bracelet onto her left wrist joint. It fit nicely; just like anything else that she wore.

"May our friendship last until death do us part." It was a pact that you had sworn with Chuuya before. And you always kept your word, never breaking a promise to someone no matter how bizarre or extreme it was.

How unfortunate, really, that death did you apart too early.

@circinuus @riiwrites @ruanais @justcallmesakira @yasu-masashige @oldworldpoolhall @heartsfourdazai @ashthemadwriter-uwu @sariel626 @yuugen-benni @chocsra @iridescentdove

[taergalive]

Even More Incorrect Radioapple Quotes to Fill the Void in My Heart

Lucifer: Can you please be serious for five minutes Alastor: My record is four, but I think I can do it -- Lucifer: I made tea. Alastor: I don’t want tea. Lucifer: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea. Alastor: Then why are you telling me? Lucifer: It is a conversation starter. Alastor: That’s a lousy conversation starter. Lucifer: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate. -- Lucifer, tending to Alastor's wounds from his fight with Adam: How would you rate your pain? Alastor: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend. -- Lucifer: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives Alastor: I wake up at 4:30 AM Lucifer: Lucifer: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives -- Lucifer: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back. Alastor: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself. -- Lucifer: I turned out perfectly fine! Alastor: Lucifer, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast Lucifer: I DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN!!! -- Lucifer: Can you keep a secret? Alastor: Do you know anything about my life? Lucifer: No I do not. Good point. -- Alastor: Look. I may not be a saint, but it's not like I’ve killed anybody important. I’m not an arsonist. I’ve never found a wallet outside of an IHOP and thought about returning it but saw the owner lived out of state so just took the cash and dropped the wallet back on the ground. Lucifer: Okay, that's really specific, and that makes me think that you definitely did do that. -- Lucifer: Hey Alastor, have you seen the reporter? Alastor: Nope. Have you seen the meat tenderizer? Lucifer, confused: What? Alastor, grabbing the meat tenderizer out of the drawer: No reason, cute girl things! -- Lucifer: Alastor and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us Charlie: * Sighing * What did Alastor do? Lucifer: He chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... Alastor: Who wants a steering wheel? -- Lucifer: What time is it? Alastor: I don't know; pass me that saxophone and we'll find out Alastor: * Plays sax extremely loudly* Husk: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING?! Alastor: It's 2 am - Lucifer: I told Alastor his ears twitch when he lies. Charlie: Why? Lucifer: Look. Lucifer: Hey Alastor! Do you love us? Alastor, covering his ears: No! Charlie: -- Lucifer: Why are your tongues purple? Angel: We had slushies.I had a blue one. Husk: I had a red one. Lucifer: oh Lucifer: Lucifer: OH Alastor: Alastor: You drank each other's slushies? -- Alastor: Imagine being under 5’4’’ and thinking you have rights hahaha couldn’t be me. Lucifer: You wanna keep those kneecaps you better shut the fuck up! Alastor: I’m sorry, I can’t hear you from all the way down there, can you repeat that? Lucifer: I SAID FUCK YOU BITCH -- Lucifer: When are we gonna fuck? Alastor: What? Lucifer: Oh sorry autocorrect. When are we gonna hang out? Alastor: First of all, those two words aren't even close to each other. And second of all, this is a verbal conversation... -- Lucifer: As top in this relationship, I think we should- Alastor: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me. -- Lucifer: You have to apologize to them Alastor. Alastor: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

[thesehandsfic]

hiii this is not really a command or a suggestion but i was curious how you think adam handles jealousy in his relationship with ronan/if you think he grows out of how he acted jealous with blue or if it changes in any way

answer is yes and no re: growing out of it. i think adam's a selfish possessive guy & he doesn't have any desire to really change that. ronan, also, enables it, allows it, likes it. i think the older adam gets and the more comfortable he becomes with himself and the better he gets at being alive in general, the more stable he becomes wrt his relationship(s) & his place in everybody else's life. i think a part of the reason he was jealous with blue because he thought gansey was better than him so he was irritated he was being traded out for the newer/richer/cleaner cut model. there is nobody better for ronan, there is nobody else ronan would want, there is nothing else ronan could possibly need; adam knows this, likes this, gets comfortable with this & eventually just sits in this. but i think it's also fun for him to be possessive/showy, because ronan is hot, and rich, and a little odd looking. text evidence: when he makes a point of whispering in ronan's ear in front of everybody for absolutely no reason. very funny way for him to say "this is mine, he knows it, don't get any ideas." i think adam stays prickly forever, i think adam stays egotistical & also a little insecure forever, i think he knows ronan is going to be his forever & he doesn't really have to worry about being jealous of anyone in any legitimate, worrisome way beyond the gratification he gets out of exhibiting control over ronan in public/in front of their peers. and also, if we're talking about canon, ronan's, like, literally a god. and adam's just...bending him over. like he's just...fucking a god. imagine what that's doing to his ego. what the fuck does he have to be jealous about? everybody else should be jealous of HIM, honestly. so: yes and no. he will oscillate violently between despicable ego and debilitating insecurity until he dies, i think. ronan's just happy to be involved.

[uptondixon]

"You can hear it in the silence" - Sam Carver x Intelligence Officer!Reader

I noticed there's a surprisingly small amount of Sam Carver fanfics out here so this was born!

Reader is an officer from the Intelligence unit, she and Carver have been dating in secret for a couple of months. After a tough call involving both Truck and Intelligence, Carver can't help but demonstrate his love for you.

One robbery in progress, a bomb, and a bunch of civilians hurt. That is not how anyone imagined a Sunday morning to go. 

After the mess was contained, two out of four offenders were dead after a shooting with CPD. The other two, however, disappeared among the crowd of civilians. Paramedics were handling the wounded in triage while the firefighters were dealing with the remains of the explosion. 

“Y/n?” Voight said, calling your attention to him. “What about the guard you talked with?”

“He seemed nervous Sarge, even scared, and it wasn’t because of the robbery,” you said, checking the information you wrote about the guard. “The story he told, it looked rehearsed to me.”

Voight nodded, “Okay, you talk to him again and see if you can get more info, meanwhile Kev and Adam can search his proprieties so we can try and make a connection—”

“Y/n!” a shout was heard from a distance, directing your attention towards the sound.

Sam’s figure came into view. He was dressed with his coat and helmet, his face carrying a mix of worry and relief. You couldn’t help but leave a small gasp, your face morphing into pure and genuine surprise.

“Carver! I—” you started but the words vanished when he hugged you. Your arms wrapped around him, instinctively hugging him back. The embrace was so strong it lifted you a little off the ground, making you smile.

“Sam,” you said, a smile still on your face. Breaking the hug was hard since he was holding you so tight, but he started to let go when you said his name. Your feet met the ground again. 

“I saw you in the middle of the shooting, I thought you were going to be shot!” Carver said, his hands holding yours. 

“I'm fine, I ducked in time,” you smiled at him again, trying to soothe his worries. “We all did,” you looked at your team behind you, Sam’s eyes following yours.

He suddenly went quiet, his eyes staring at your intertwined hands. Realization hit him that you two were in public. 

You smiled at him sheepishly, arching your eyebrows and holding his hands tighter for reassurance. You knew he was feeling shy, it was so cute the way his eyes shifted back and forth between your eyes and the ground. You were not any different, looking between him and your team. You both sure did not expect your relationship to be out like this, but there was no coming back now. 

Your team held both confused and smiley faces. Hailey and Jay were smiling so big you could count every tooth in their mouth. They have been suspecting about your relationship with said firefighter after catching you messaging him during a boring lookout late at night. Another one who had suspicions was Voight, he heard from Mouch one night over dinner at his and Trudy's house that he saw you and Carver talking at Molly's. On the other hand, Adam, Kim, and Kevin looked absolutely shocked. They appeared to be the only ones who missed any signs about this.

“Is everything okay guys?” Stella's voice brought you back to reality. She was more discreet with her reaction than the others, but you could spot a small smile forming in her mouth.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Carver said, regaining his composure. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” he smiled that smile you love so much. Staring into his blue eyes, you smiled back. 

“See you around, Y/n,” Stella said, leaving with Carver following behind.

You nodded with a smile, walking back to your team. 

“Don't look at me like that, Adam,” you said pointing a finger at him. Adam was staring at you as if you had grown another head.

“Well forgive my shock, but is that the reason why you rejected all the guys I told you about?”

“Bro, I rejected them because they suck.”

“They do not suck, Y/N, they’re nice guys.”

“Well, would you date them?”

“Enough you two,” Voight said with a ghost of a smile. “Let’s get back to the case.”

After listening to the rest of Voight’s instructions you all left in the direction of the cars.

“Now, I’m your partner, how come I’m one of the last people to know about this?” Kevin said, getting into the passenger seat of your car. 

“Y’all need to share when stuff like this happens!” Kevin said through the window when Jay and Hailey passed beside your car to get to their truck.

All you could do now was laugh and get ready for the teasing coming your way in the next few weeks.

[cockslutpadalecki]

Hello

Summary: You’ve given up on love. That is until a stranger walks up to you in a bar, and starts off a chain of events even you couldn’t dream up.

Characters: Steve x F!Reader.

Words: 1.2K.

Warnings: some angst, pregnancy/giving birth, mostly tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: Formerly a Patreon exclusive. Based off of song of same name by Allie X. Definitely give it a listen. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

It all started with a hello.

In the corner of a bar, you hurriedly swallow down the last of your now room-temperature rosè. Your date had stood you up. Again.

Last week, you’d made arrangements to go out for sushi, and he failed to show— coming up with some lame excuse about work commitments, forcing him to remain at his office. Then he called last night out of the blue asking if you were free, that he wanted to make it up to you. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, and agreed.

But of course, two hours have gone by without a word. After the first forty five minutes, you convince yourself that he’s still just running late— hoping he’s just caught up in traffic and can’t get to his phone. But once the big hand has surpassed ninety minutes, you’re adamant he’s done it again.

What is it with you always attracting these pathetic jockstraps? They either arrive and end up being the most pretentious, sexist creeps known to man, or they just don’t bother to show up in the first place. And that isn’t even counting the string of failed relationships that follow you like a bad smell. Men who, after only a couple of months, realize that commitment isn’t for them. Or maybe you weren't.

This is your last ditch attempt to find someone, in the hopes he wouldn’t turn out to be a complete jerk. After all, he had reached out to you for a reason— maybe he felt something more, a flicker of attraction you hadn’t picked up on yet? But the longer you sit alone, the more it becomes apparent that you’re destined to sit by yourself forever.

That’s how you ended up here, hidden away in the corner of the room, nursing a large glass of alcohol— or five. You don’t pay attention to anyone coming or going after a while, too preoccupied with your own sorrow to notice him enter.

-

He notices you though. Shielding yourself from the crowd, melancholy fraught in your features. He wonders what your story is— how you put yourself in full view of people, but still managed to remain so closed off.

He studies you as he sits at the bar, choosing the perfect spot to watch you without looking too conspicuous. Every woman that sidles up against him, batting their long eyelashes and flashing him a little too much cleavage, he politely turns down— nothing about them intrigues him. They have everything on show, thus the mystery he seeks is already gone.

Eventually, when he thinks you are getting ready to leave, he takes a chance and approaches you.

-

You’re unaware of the man’s presence until he’s stepping up to the table, clutching a full measure of amber liquid. And even through the dim light, his sapphire eyes sparkle, and his wide genuine smile almost blindsides you completely.

You half-expect him to ask if someone is sitting in the empty chair opposite you— ready to watch him walk away with it to the gaggle of women eyeing him up at the next table.

Whatever you imagine he’ll say, or what his voice would sound like in the few brief seconds are nothing compared to the deep husk, or the singular word that falls from his parted lips.

“Hello.”

-

Smoothing out the satin skirt of your dress, you glance at yourself in the mirror— taking in the intricate way your hair has been styled, and the subtle tones of natural make-up framing your eyes.

This is it. The moment you’ve dreamt of since you were a little girl. You should feel terrified that something could still go wrong— he could still walk away, but somehow the reassurance that’s been forged into your skull over the years reminds you, in his voice, that this is forever. Fate has prepared you for this. Fate has led you to him.

You suck in a huge breath before releasing it through your pursed lips, formed into the shape of an O. You can hear your mom on the other side of the door, her voice muffled but raised slightly as she talks to somebody in the corridor.

“You can’t go in there,” the older woman chastises. You don’t hear the response, if any, but a soft knock at the door gives you a pretty good idea of what it would’ve been.

Slowly, you glide over, pulling the door towards you as your heart hammers away inside your chest. For a moment you’re fearful you might throw up on your gown, but the second you catch sight of Steve’s azure gaze, the feeling subsides as quickly as it came.

He temporarily stands awestruck, before muttering, “Hello,” with the same wide grin that had you smitten the moment he approached you in that bar.

“Hello to you too,” you reply, matching his smile with your own.

“So, I was wondering,” he starts, taking a slow step towards you and holds his arm out for you to take, “if you fancied getting married today?”

You reach forward, hooking your arm through his. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He slowly escorts you back the way he’d come, and you catch sight of your mom tearing up as she steps back to allow you to pass, giving you a proud smile.

As you reach the stairs to take you down to the ceremony, you begin to loosen your grip around Steve’s elbow, but he places his spare hand on top of yours, giving you a light chuckle. “Don’t you let me go now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

You’re certain the sound of that first tiny cry will stay with you forever— no matter how much time passes or how your memories may dwindle. You’ll hold onto it like the world’s most precious pearl, protecting it with every fibre in your being.

Laying your head against the mountain of pillows behind you, you let your eyes flutter closed for a second, somehow oddly comforted by the muted sound of nurses out in the corridor and beyond, before a deeper, more familiar voice floats amongst them.

“Can I see them now?”

You can hear the anguish in his tone, knowing how desperate he is to make sure you’re both okay after you were whisked away to recovery.

“Yes, of course Mr. Rogers, she’s right in there,” comes a light, friendly reply.

Steve suddenly appears from behind the blacked out door, the worried look etched into his features instantly melting away as his eyes catch yours.

“Hello.”

“Hello Daddy,” you whisper, casting your gaze down at the tiny bundle laid on your chest. Steve moves to stand beside you, and rests his hand gently on your forehead, stroking your temple with the side of his thumb— just like he always does.

“She’s perfect,” he sighs happily.

You glance up, flashing Steve a soft smile, before gazing lovingly back down at the little girl— your precious Pearl— noticing she’s inherited the same beautiful, cerulean eyes from him. “Yes, she is.”

Five years ago, you never would’ve dreamt this is where you’d be.

Steve may have found you sitting alone that night, but there hasn’t been a moment since that he ever left a chair beside you empty.

It’s finally real. I found my fantasy. Remember the day when I heard you say…

***

ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @kellhems @ladybug05 @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wintasssoldier @xoxonotme

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

[lacrimosathedark]

For funsies, some of my fav Radioapple tropes

Both of them are kicking and screaming through feelings realization. They would prefer to remain in denial, thank you very much. Even funnier if they do this through ALL stages. Like enemies to friends, they have such a hard time admitting they want to be friends. The tension is unbearable.

Lucifer falls first, Alastor falls harder. Or rather, Lucifer has the feelings realization first so it's more of a gradual awareness for him, but Alastor's emotions grow without his notice until it hits him all at once out of nowhere like a freight train.

Lucifer easily recognizing he finds Alastor attractive, but totally blindsided when he starts to genuinely enjoy his presence. Like, yeah, he's tall, dark, and threatening, Lucifer liked that in Lilith. But Alastor's also a BITCH and Lucifer is NOT HAPPY that he finds this fucker funny. And that his stupid ears are adorable.

Lucifer is still hung up on Lilith, very apparently so, and Alastor's totally not jealous, no, he just wants everything Lilith's ever had, no big deal.

Alastor has Feelings about Lucifer still wearing his ring, and it makes him insecure or otherwise upset but he will not bring it up himself.

Alastor, at first, is entirely unaware of the fact that he finds Lucifer attractive (if not sexually then aesthetically). Like, he's Lucifer, known for being the most beautiful angel, AND the devil, the first temptation. Obviously he's pretty, that's not an opinion, it's a fact. What do you mean not everyone thinks that??? He likes Lucifer's stupid face and he'll double-die mad about it.

Alastor has never experienced sexual attraction in his life or death. And then he sees Lucifer in full demon mode and he's like "what the fuck am I feeling I'm feeling feelings I don't like this". Lucifer is the reason why Hell's so hot lmao

On the subject of finding Lucifer attractive, Lucifer with deer traits. Especially if he does it to mock/tease Alastor but instead of reacting as expected, Alastor basically blue screens.

Alastor insists on introducing Rosie and Lucifer, and instantly regrets it lmao. Rosie is utterly charmed by Lucifer and they (completely platonically) flirt constantly. Alastor hates it. Even before he starts to feel jealous about it, he sees it and is like "...Ew." Kinda like how kids are when their parents flirt. Rosie thinks it's hilarious because it is.

Vox being both a jealous dumbass and a genuine threat. At the same time, Alastor is adamant that Lucifer stay out of it, much to his annoyance. Vox can be underhanded and sneaky, capable of causing genuine problems, maybe even hurting one of them. But equally likely to blurt out something horrendously embarrassing and stupid.

In that vein, a direct contrast between Alastor's relationship with Lucifer and with Vox. Vox being the abusive ex can be interesting, but even just his usual invasive obsession compared to Lucifer generally respecting Alastor's boundaries for example. Lucifer not trying to push for anything at all (getting him to say what he wants is like pulling teeth) compared to Vox's desperation and retaliation. Hell, even just that Vox is Friends to Enemies and Lucifer is Enemies to Friends (to Lovers mayhaps?). It's really fun to play with.

DANCING!!! I love Alastor dancing with anyone and everyone, but him dancing with Lucifer and almost forcing Lucifer to have fun? UGH yes. They start off with challenging toothy grins, but eventually Lucifer is genuinely laughing and Alastor's smile is relaxed and easy. SO. CUTE.

Similarly, playing music together! I do enjoy the dancing more, but just, Alastor on piano and Lucifer accompanying him with his violin? Adorable.

Charlie is either ENTIRELY oblivious, or she knows EVERYTHING but everyone thinks she's oblivious. When whichever it is is revealed, there's a huge, "Wait, WHAT?!" moment.

The rest of the cast have bets going and when whatever their relationship is is revealed, someone grumbles and hands over cash to someone else.

Will I think of more?

[reashot]

Red VS. Blue

Bleiss: Hello everyone let me introduce you all to my leader and Ruby's counterpart/"evil twin" Bluby.

Ruby: *gasp* (She looks exactly like me) 😮

Blake: How many more versions of us are there?

Yang: Yay! I got two little sisters for me to hang out with.

Weiss: Oh no, there's two of them now...

Jaune: (She's beautiful...)

Bluby: *hides behind Bleiss* 😶‍🌫️

Bleiss: C'mon Bluby just introduce yourself to everyone.

Bluby: hi... 😶

Bleiss: *sigh* Well as you can see my dear leader is quite shy compared to Ruby.

Ruby: Oh, she's so cute! I mean I'm so cute. C'mon I'm not going to bite you. 😘

Bluby: Uh... *Hides behind Jaune* 😨

Jaune:

Yang: Oops. He, he. Looks like you have a competition with your clone Ruby.

Weiss: Oh great, not another one.

Blake: A love triangle... (Scandalous! I'm so gonna post this online)

Ruby: Very funny everyone, but everybody knows that a copy can't beat the original. 😤

Bleiss: Well I wouldn't be so sure about that. Remember that Bluby is your opposite in every way.

That means unlike you she is very demure, very mindful.

Ruby: Hey! I can be both demoor and mine things too. 😡

Bluby: wait... 😔

Bleiss: And unlike you she's not obsessed with weapons and is not on the no fly list.

Ruby: You smuggled in one hand grenade and for some reason you ended up on the terror watch list. I thought Vale supposed to be a free country!

Bluby: stop... 😢

Bleiss: And also unlike you she's not a homophobe.

*record scratch*

Jaune: Wait?

Weiss: What?

Blake: Ruby you're...

Yang: Do you want to explain yourself, oh sister of mine?

Ruby: W-wait you-you do not actually believe in what she just said right? I'm your sister for goodness sake. *Sweats*🥵

Yang: I don't know Rubes you're sweating a lot for someone that said she's not homophobic.

Ruby: Grrr... Fine I admit okay I think realtionship should be like Adam & eve. Not madam & eve! 😖

Bluby: No...🥺

Blake: Ah ha! I knew it. You're the only one that's not happy that I finally dated your sister.

Jaune: Ruby is a homophobe... No... But I thought you liked my sister Saphron and her family?

Ruby: Th-that's different she's your sister and I liked everything about you... No matter how wrong I think same sex relationship is.

Weiss: Girl, I think you should shut up before you dig yourself any further.

Ruby: Oh, that's rich coming from a racist! 🤬

Weiss: Hey! Don't drag me into this.

*starts bickering & arguing*

Bleiss: Oh, ho, ho. This day couldn't be any better. *Opens bag of chip*

Bluby: *starts crying* 😭

And any suggestions for the name of JaunexBluby ship?

Or if you have any other questions just leave your message here.

[dulc3vida]

baila conmigo

@allyneedsasnack thank u for ur kind words! sorry it took me a while but this was my first request and i was just really nervous. i hope u like it 💕

rafe wasn't sure why he let you drag him out all the way to the mainland but he regretted it as soon as he stepped through the door. you brought him to a restaurant that you really liked. he normally wouldn't consider it, he hated even taking his new boat for a ride around the obx, let alone to the mainland. rafe also liked being the one planning the date and didn't do well when things weren't under his control. however, he was making up for having to abruptly cancel an important date with you because of business with barry which basically meant you could do or ask him anything you want (as if you didn't already).

still, this felt more like a punishment.

the night had been going good. the restaurant was called Lola's and he was actually enjoying himself, the food, and the overall ambiance. it also didn't hurt that one margarita made you giggly and blushy, tipsy but not belligerent, just how he liked you. the night was truly going well until the lights dimmed and the music raised a bit.

"oh, i love this song." you whipped your head towards the dancefloor near the bar where no one was dancing. the vaguely familiar sound of romeo santos voice made rafes ears perk up, he knew what was coming. "come on, lets dance." you stood up, grabbing his hand and tugging. of course, it didn't work and you pouted. "pleaseee?"

"already told you, princess, i don't dance." rafe was adamant about this. dancing made him feel awkward, like he was a spectacle. you only whined a "rafeeee" and frowned more.

it felt like a punishment to have to watch you pout and beg for him to dance. it was honestly one of his only insecurities in your relationship. he was tall, handsome, rich, and the perfect guy on paper but you liked to dance and you were way better than he could ever be because it came to you naturally. the two of you had left many parties early because of arguments over him not wanting to dance with you. he couldn't help it. dancing made him feel vulnerable. it put him on display when he preferred to be the watcher.

"come on, rafe. please?" you sat yourself on his lap while he shook his head. "porque no quieres bailar conmigo? you never wanna dance with me. what are you afraid of?" you placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart.

rafe exhaled through his nose, looking away from you and looking back. "that i'll look stupid." he murmured, barely audible. it made you laugh.

"rafe, there's barely anyone here." you could tell your reaction didn't help as he dropped his hand from your waist and averted his gaze. you gently grabbed his jaw and turned him back to face you. "we're on the mainland. if you're a bad dancer then only a couple of nobodies are gonna see." you looked into his eyes, giving him those bunny eyes that he could barely resist. "please? baila conmigo?" your reasoning seemed to break down his defenses and you were placing little kisses along his neck which helped soften him a lot more. "i'll teach you, just dance with me to this one song. before its over."

you stood up and tugged his hand again, doing a few excited little bounces on your heels when his whole body followed you.

the two of you were the only people on the dancefloor. the gobo flashed streaks of blue, red, and purple onto your faces and the two of you were tipsy enough to feel like you were in a movie.

"okay, grab me like this." you grabbed one of his arms and wrapped it around your waist, giggling when he pulled you close to him. taking his other hand in yours, you smiled up at him. "follow my lead." you took one step to the side with your right foot. "right, left, right, y punta" you explained while you stepped with him. "and then you go to the other side. left, right, left, y punta." rafe nodded, following your every step. "put it together now." you swayed your hips with each step, effectively leading his. "faster." you matched the beat of imitadora by romeo santos, happy when rafe was able to keep up and didn't look completely miserable.

rafe caught you completely off guard when he spun you around in time with the music. he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or if it was you, but he suddenly felt confident. all those years of ballroom dancing ward had subjected him to awoke in him like a sleeper agent and he was using one of his knees between your legs to guide your sways.

you only thought rafe was building his confidence while he danced with you. however when he spun you round again AND dipped you at the end of the song, you were looking at him quizzically. "i thought you didn't dance." you said, hoping he couldn't hear any jealousy in your voice.

"i don't." rafe found himself not wanting to rush off the dancefloor, so he pulled your body closer to his as obsesion by aventura started playing. "never said i can't."

your buzzed little bunny brain decided to turn it into a competition, mind racing from one thought to the next. you pulled away from him as Judy Santos sang her part of the song, sensually dancing by yourself for a bit before rafe pulled you back in. "what're you doin? m'not dancin with anyone else if that's what you're worried about."

"i'm not worried." you pulled away again, basically dancing a circle around him before going back in and leading him into a different step.

"s'that why you're tryna make me look bad? thought you were gonna teach me?" rafe dropped his head to your ear. "you're the only girl i'll ever dance with, got it?" you nodded and let out a squeal when he nipped at your neck.

"can we go now?" you look into his eyes, more attracted to him than ever and the evidence was pooling in your lacy excuse for panties.

"nah, nah. my bunny wanted to dance." His hands were now possessively gripping your ass as he realized people were watching you. "got an audience and everything. s'what you wanted right?"

"want you now..." you grabbed onto his bicep and stopped the dance all together. you saw the way he was looking at you and knew he wanted it to so you went in for the kill. "please, papi?"

the groan rafe lets out along with the pinch to your ass was your sign to grab your coat and your purse. rafe sets 300$ on the table, a gross overpayment, and follows you out. the two of you barely make it to his boat before you're sliding your dress off your shoulders and he's undoing his button down.

[beebopboom]

Greasy Johnson: a Red Herring?

This is a season 3 speculation post - you know not what to do with them

ok so i’ve fallen down a Greasy Johnson is Jesus rabbit hole and I love it - seems pretty plausible (here are some of of the pieces that sent me down here - Jesus 2.0 rides a Motorcycle Scooter , Greasy Johnson is Jesus, and Greasy Johnson in the book)

To summarize Greasy Johnson is the third baby in the swap who grows up near Adam and has kind of a “rival gang” who in the book is used as the reason why Adam finds a fight between two rivals ridiculous

plus you have the working title for the talked about sequel 668: The Neighbor of the Beast which more than likely is Greasy Johnson house and his thing with tropical fish - just a lot of things pointing to him being Jesus

But!! I want to talk about something a little different (and I can recognize this is probably just my want for Warlock to come back as someone important) because it was a choice not have him mentioned after the swap in the show.

What if Warlock is Jesus? Now just hear me out

If i’m following the swap right Warlock is our baby draped in blue and is the Young’s actual son

Now going back a bit I believe Heaven has been testing out aspects of what is said to happen in the Second Coming for a while now maybe as far back as 1827 but probably got close to right around 1941 and was just waiting for Hell to have the Antichrist and trigger Armageddon

and yknow for being an order of satanic nuns they sure do have a lot of Jesus on the Cross hanging around. why? - it’s almost like the were also meant to deliver him as well

So when Hell pulled their final card - so did Heaven

Now who was not meant to be there that night and messed everything up - the Young’s and their baby, Warlock - it’s almost like it was a divine intervention. And like I said earlier Warlock is our baby draped in blue (like Jesus) and our Ace card (ace up their sleeve anyone?)

Greasy Johnson was apart of Hells plan and set up - Warlock was not

also he has traveled the world because of the Dowling’s work before being tempted by Hastur which he denies

and the whales and dinosaurs we see in his room - you got your mothers humor don’t you?

and he is the only one who has to make a return to the UK - the plane in the opening sequence

what about Greasy Johnson and the neighbor of the beast though? that seems to be a pretty great fit and I agree - he is going to be the reason the swap is discovered and they all get together again - whatever that reason may be (*cough*dying*cough*)

and not mentioning him further in season one allows for him to come in as a completely new character and story that we get to follow around with points in his life pointing towards him being Jesus - as a distraction for the characters and for us

but where does Aziraphale come into this and why does the Metatron need an angel of his talents? - Heaven has also lost its card(baby), the trick worked a little too well and there are still two children to choose between, if they could find them - and Aziraphale, who has shown is apt at finding and identifying the Antichrist and knows Earth better than any angel, is just the being for the job

I recognize this is a lot of speculation and this is just kinda just a crack theory but it wouldn’t leave me alone so I’d thought I’d share

and mostly I think it’d be funny that in thinking they were raising the Antichrist they were actually raising Jesus Christ

(but also it would fit a lot of the headcannons floating around. Jesus being a right terror? check. Them raising Jesus? already did that. Trans!Jesus? remember all those trans!warlock headcannons. Jesus having a mentor relationship with Crowley? the demon raised Warlock. Going out for a drink? Warlock would an adult now by the time season 3 comes out and they keep following that the events in the show are happening at the present time it comes out trend - just on and on)

[calmlb]

have some silly skk wedding hcs bc. idk i just wanted to yell w someone abt them

chuuya cries in sporadic bursts the day of but taken altogether it's like 3 hrs of hysterical sobbing

dazai doesn't cry at all because he slips into like a shocked fugue state the second he sees chuuya but he DOES bawl like a baby the next morning

nobody who attended remembers past like hour 4 of the wedding and six months later they're still uncovering some of the wild shit they did during the afterparty. this is because the wedding staff accidentally became part of the celebration and the photographer, who was supposed to record the whole thing, ended up sleeping with one of the cast. it was kunikida.

just to be obnoxious ranpo proposes to poe and chuuya has to be held back by a crying w laughter dazai from Physically Attacking Him

dazai insists on having a bouquet to throw, which he purposefully angles for akutagawa to catch. atsushi faints, lucy's face progresses from angry -> considering in real time (they r a throuple real)

chuuya picks his best man/maid of honor fairly easily (hirotsu and kouyou duh) but dazai basically told the ada to figure it out amongst themselves and come back to him with their decisions (he's lazy/genuinely didn't know who to pick and wanted to outsource) and there was Actual Violence

lots of drama over whether or not to invite mori and verlaine. turns out to be a nonissue bc all verlaine does is cry in a corner about a) rimbaud and b) holy shit my little brother is getting married and after hour 6 mori and fukuzawa disappear from the event (neither they nor anyone else remembers this. very lucky)

ango receives an invitation with no context and has like 3 mental breakdowns about what this means for his and dazai's relationship

7 hours in (it was a long party) kenji's cow somehow shows up (he swears up and down it wasn't him, everyone's very confused the next morning)

it was a sunset wedding, dazai wore white and chuuya wore blue

adam and shirase and some other members of the sheep are there. adam makes fast friends with kyouka, meanwhile the former sheep are very narrowly spared dazai's wrath, mostly bc he keeps forgetting they're even there. it's a big wedding

tachihara tried to drunkenly breakdance, gin laughed so hard she thought she got heart palpitations and was afraid for her life. she went to look for mori and walked in on him and fukuzawa. none of them remember this but now gin feels a vague sense of horror every time she looks at her boss and she's not really sure why

yosano tries rizzing kouyou up and fails by any normal metric (yosano: please please please please please please please please please please) but kouyou is Tipsy and Charmed

dazai does indeed burn the marriage certificate (TRY RETURNING ME WITHOUT A RECEIPT, CHIBI!!). chuuya is so in love he starts crying again

higuchi and tanizaki had philosophical discussions about life on the rooftop and accidentally solved the secrets of the universe. they do not remember this

kunikida returns from his steamy rendezvous with the photographer and immediately sets his sights on ango. drunk kunikida knows what he wants (twinkish men) and when he wants them (now). there is a reason one of the most important ideals in his notebook is to Not Drink

the guild is there and are generally having a good time until fitzgerald sees tsujimura (only there as ango's plus-one, got abandoned bc of drunk kunikida's machinations) and calls her a blue-haired liberal, and hey, what's a party without a brawl in the middle of the dance floor

between the guild and the wedding staff half the people at the party weren't even invited. which is why the doa and hunting dogs are also there

kenji, kyouka, q, elise, and aya are having a Kids' Party in a separate room with adam as an extremely enthusiastic babysitter (well, more like occasional check-in-er, he's swinging back and forth between the parties). tecchou joins them after a while and has a great time, as all except aya are extremely fascinated by his unholy food combinations

bram and lovecraft kickstart their enemies-to-lovers arc the second they set eyes on each other

fyodor, dazai, kajii, and nikolai start up a game of Knife Monopoly, to everyone's surprise the extremely determined caterer sweeps them all. sigma is smitten at once and immediately starts to flirt with her (the caterer is a milf who is seduced by sigma's transgender rizz, sigma will eventually have an entire 'convincing the stepkids' family movie arc)

teruko FUCKS IT UP on the dance floor, haruno is so impressed she immediately falls into her first disastrous sapphic crush

hirotsu and natsume mutually agree to restart their homoerotic situationship without ever even actually saying two words to each other, someone has to take skk's place now that they've more or less gotten their shit together

katai wasn't there physically but was supervising through security cameras. he's the only one who will ever know everything that happened that night and deleted the footage due to trauma :( sorry katai

tsujimura and mushitarou bond over how desperately they Do Not Want To Be There

skk Try to have a romantic wedding night(/morning, given how long the afterparty stretched) but they are both too drunk, chuuya trips and falls flat on his face and dazai laughs so hard he throws up

omg i started yapping and then i just didn't stop. i didn't even know i had this many thoughts in my head. i am sending this before i can regret it feel free to delete if u want to

anon. THESE ARE SO GOOD OMG???? i could literally visualize a whole fic just by reading these hcs

adding my comments under the cut so it doesn’t get too long 🫣

ok first of all… the skk crying hcs??? CANON OMG im so obsessed

Ranpo turning skk’s wedding into his engagement party is so true of him. he absolutely would

Dazai totally would insist on a bouquet to toss, & him throwing it at to Akutagawa is so funny 😭

SOMEONE SAVE ANGO PLS-

KENJI’S COW IM SOBBING it reminds me of that wan episode where Atsushi asks Dazai what Yosano needed & he was like “… a cow!” boba eyes & everything

i had never thought of Adam & Kyouka being buddies but my life is changed now tysm for this revelation

NOT GIN BEING SCARRED BY ZENKU SKK 💀 someone get my girl outta there

ok but tipsy + charmed Kouyou is a vision

Chuuya tells Dazai that burning the marriage certificate means they’re not married anymore & that’s when Dazai finally breaks down into tears

ok Higuchi & Tanizaki is another duo i never considered and i LOVE IT???

KUNIANGO SO TRUE

TSUJIMURA A BLUE HAIRED LIBERAL I AM SCREAMING

omg i love the kids party & skk are both good with kids so they definitely would make sure the kids are taken care of 🥹 Adam would be such a good babysitter, and Tetchou too??? omg giving me fic ideas with this one

super invested in this caterer x Sigma arc tbh

ykw i was thinking abt bsd rarepairs the other day & couldn’t figure out who to ship Teruko or Haruno with… should’ve thought of this honestly

SOMEONE SAVE KATAI TOO OMG THAT POOR MAN-

now that you mention it… i actually love the idea of Tsujimura & Mushitaro but i think it’s mostly bc her hair matches his suit PFFT

skk’s ideal honeymoon = SLEEP 😫

i’m so glad you didn’t stop yapping non, this was so wonderful tysm i feel blessed 🥹🩷 please feel free to yell abt hcs or say hi anytime!! 🫶🏻💕💕

[exorcisticlute-archive]

Fanfiction Adam x Lute I'll always choose you

SFW || Fluff

There she was fighting in the air with another exorcist. They were out of line and wanted things ran differently. Adam didn't take too kind in one his girls stepping out of line. So he sent lute to straighten them out which resulted them to both be in the sky fighting with each other. Lute glared at the other exorcist as her horns curved to the side and down. "Why are you acting out? This is no way for an exorcist to behave!" Flying over to her their swords clashed against each other. "Because it is not fair!"

She yelled back at lute. "What isn't fair.. the training!" The higher angel was curious where she was going with this. In defeat she threw her arms down by her side. "No..how Adam treats you better than the rest of us!" She screams pushing Lute back a bit. She flew there in shock of what she said. Was it true? Did Adam really prioritize her more than the rest? "Well... yea I am the second in command?" She tried to come up with a valid reason.

The other angel put her sword back and flew closer to her lieutenant. An angry expression upon her mask as she pulled it off to reveal a tied back hight ponytail. Her blue eyes meet with Lute's terrifying gold eyes. "No.. every time we return from an extermination he always checks you first. Everywhere we go he puts you first... In training he always goes against you. You are his first go to... his puppy" Lute's expression grew angrier as she went on and on.

"Would be a shame if... sera knew about your relationship with Adam" She got closer to Lute's face. "Is that a fucking threat?" Lute's wings spread out a bit more to show a bit more dominance. "Take it how you will we will see who ends up being his favorite" She flew back down leaving an angry Lute in the sky. She growled to herself and flew back down watching her go back with the rest of the exorcist. Adam walked up to Lute drinking a lemonade as he slurped away.

"Hmm? Oh nothing... she had personal things going on" Her arms were crossed over her chest hoping he would buy It but it didn't seem like he was interesting. "Of course they all have personal problems"He mocked by putting air quotes with his fingers. "Alright get all the bitches in line we have a meeting" He demanded as Lute nodded and flew up to the sky to be able to spot majority of them. "Attention to all! Adam will be conducting a meeting so gather around!" She yelled loudly and flew back down next to him.

Slowly a couple of them started to approach them. Once they were all there Adam cleared his throat. "Alright bitches this year we are going to have another badass extermination! We're going to kick their mother fucking ass!" He then walked besides Lute and slung an arm around her and leaned against her. Lute faintly blushed as she saw the disappointment reaction of the other angel who encountered her earlier. "Me and danger tits are going to plot the attack strategy once we finish up!" He instructed as she started to think was the angel really right about him?

Her head peered up as she witness that angel raise her arm to ask a question. Adam noticed and sighed. "What is it? Make it quick" She cleared her throat "Do you want another one of us to come with just for a second opinion?" She asked in a friendly tone and gave a smug look towards lute. Adam laughed which resorted with a snort. "I don't need anyone's opinion besides Lute why the fuck do you think she is my lieutenant" He hissed and snapped his fingers. "Alright meetings over" He motioned for Lute to follow behind as she did eyeing the other angel.

"Man what is up with her today fuck she is really snippy today fucking bitch don't know how to act" They got back to Adam's office to plan the attack. She sat on his desk as he turned off the lights and turned on the projector. It displayed all of hell as they started to discuss in which district to start in. As Adam went up to pin point where he wanted to go first then attack to next he turned around to get lutes opinion but saw she had something on her mind.

Sighing he made his way over to her. "Alright.. you clearly have something on your mind what is it?" She slightly jumped and stuttered "Wh-what?" She was caught off guard by him. "Is it what that bitch asked In the meeting?" He pointed back as he tilted his head to the side. "Yes... and I.. I know why she asked" Lute maneuvered her eyes to the side so she didn't make eye contact with him. She felt the tip of his fingers push her head back as her eyes meet with his. He pulled his mask off and placed it on his desk.

"Why did she ask?" It took Lute a couple of seconds to muster up the reason why. Her right hand rubbed her left arm nervously. "I believe she is jealous.... of us" She splurged It out as he seemed surprised. "In the sky... the argument What I told you wasn't completely true. She was upset with the way you treat me better than the rest like putting me first." Her heart rate picked it self up faster and faster. It was almost like it was going to jump out of her chest. "I'm always next to you, when we come back from extermination you check me first"

"I told her it was because I'm your lieutenant so I'm a bit more important.." She ended her sentence there. There were no words from Adam as she sighed letting her wings slightly fall with her shoulders slouched over a bit. "That isn't true... You're not first in everything because you're my lieutenant." Her head raised up in curiosity. "You're always my first because you're the first to come in mind when I'm doing something. You're my first because I care for you. I can't stand to see you with another angel" He came closer and held her hands in his.

"I'll always choose you..."

He leaned into her planting a soft gently kiss on her lips. Her eyes closed as she returned the kiss. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers pushing back her side bangs. "You'll always be my number one" He spoke in a sincere voice as he went in for another kiss. Lute chuckled as she cupped his face. "I know, that's why I love you" He blushed at her statement and brought her in close for a hug as his massive wings shielded her in close to his body.

[be-my-ally]

Crash Landing

(aka Big Bunny 4)

Wheeew, only 6 months later than I intended! it's 4am and somehow, despite spending forever on this, I fear the grammar may be janky - so apologies for that. This follows directly from The Lisa-Marie, and the masterlist for the series is linked here!

This is the last of the planned ‘main’ chapters, but there are some time jumps in this and the last chapter, so if anyone has any requests for any bunny/elvis one shots pop them into my inbox and I’ll see what I can do. I have a few little plans to fill out some of the gaps, but no promises on when they might appear. 

warnings: 18+, some mild sexism, p in v, oral (v receiving), afab!reader, skiing, allusions to poor health, Elvis is swearing like… a lot in this chapter. Make of that what you will. References to drug use. THIS ENDS IN JULY 1977 - AUGUST IS IMPLIED. wc: 14k I don’t know what to say - there was meant to be a brief skiing interlude and then all of a sudden I’m 10k in and they’re still in Colorado. 

Early 1977  

Linda is gone for good, finally some of the guys would say, and you couldn’t totally say that you disagreed. It had been stressful - the ups and downs of their relationship, being caught in the crossfires. You had enough experience to know it wasn’t really specific to her but nonetheless it had still been somewhat difficult to witness. It had been hard to face her on the jet, knowing what Elvis was saying behind her back; how adamant he was for them to be over. On the way between stops in the October tour he’d sat on the couch on the plane, glistening with the sweat from the show and still dressed in his white jumpsuit with red flames jumping up his chest, he’d tugged you over, uncaring of the others in the room. Telling you that you were the only girl he could trust to have his back, that he didn’t even know why he kept her around. He didn’t seem to remember, and you didn’t care to remind him that he’d told you the same thing back in June too. Every time she’d suddenly reappear - his desperation to be looked after superseding any desire he may have had to say goodbye to her. Why you couldn’t be enough for him you didn’t know. 

Then, almost immediately after Linda’s gone - and, admittedly, briefly before she was too - you’re meeting this new girl, Ginger, albeit rarely. Elvis for some reason putting her on the Jetstar with her family more than with him. In some ways it helps - the fact that she’s not there all the time, in others it makes you feel awful — his rush fiancee and her family seemingly not even willing or wanting to travel with him. It’s mostly a slow season over the winter though and for some reason Georgia is getting more hours than you and so, you’re forced to say goodbye to your examination of the inner workings of his private life until after the New Year break. It ends up being early February before you get a call to come in for one of his vacation whims.  

It feels like it’s been an age since you last saw Elvis even though it had barely been a six weeks, and you felt guilty that it had felt so nice to relax a little. It was hard when you spoke to your friends, and all their careers or mothering sounded so stressful all the time, they were all jealous of your ‘easy’ job, the extra benefits sounding all too impressive.  Where else would you get a new wardrobe paid for? A shiny new car sat outside for you, or an apartment rented? But it was hard to explain without giving away too much, how it was impossible for you to ever really turn off; how you thought about him all the time, worried about him all the time, even when you were at home.  

He hadn’t been difficult to manage the last couple of months of the year, at least, not as bad as the middle and start of the year, but his moods had turned almost overwhelmingly blue, and it had been tricky to level your tone and actions to appropriately comfort him. You’d started feeling on edge every flight, worried and insecure. So, the break had been nice. It had given you a chance to re-evaluate, take a breather and consider what was best for you to do.  

Elvis himself called to wish you a Merry Christmas, he’d been sweet and kind and promised you a gift even as he made small talk that you knew he disliked, even if he was good at it in that southern way, and it had made you hate him just a little. Your chest aching with the feel that he was treating you like a total stranger. It hadn’t improved when you’d returned to your Memphis apartment from your parent’s house and discovered a card had been delivered in your absence. “Season's Greetings, Elvis and the Colonel and Friends.” You’d allowed yourself the briefest of cries staring at yourself in the mirror while the blotchiness crawled up your neck. You were still an ugly crier despite your best efforts. It’s the final straw, you thought to yourself as you stared at your wild eyes and messy hair where you’d tugged your hands through it. You’ll see it through the summer. Then you’re done. That’ll be just enough time to work out what to do next - maybe you’d go back to school. You dried your eyes, patting yourself on the cheeks. That’s it. Decision made. You refused to give it any more thought. Especially, about why you didn’t just quit immediately if you were planning on it later anyway, not willing to admit to yourself you wanted to give him another chance more than anything else. It was just altogether too much, being the girl on the side of the girl on the side, having to balance being his friend, employee and lover. But you’d had your moment, and you were using your trusty technique of just not. thinking. about. it. anymore.  

You were nervous as you tied your little necktie and pulled at your hem from where you were sure your dress had shrunk over the past month, preparing to greet the men loading onto the plane. It was informal, as it normally was, and you looked back somewhat fondly to your days on Big Bunny, where everything was written and handbooked out with the proper procedure for every situation. Now it was just up to you to decide what to do for every eventuality. In this situation you made the brave decision to hide. So, you tuck yourself away in the galley on the other side of the little half wall, waiting until enough of them have boarded that you’ll be forced to peek out and say hello. There were more people loading on than during the last tour, and despite the extra numbers you knew you were handling this mostly alone - Georgia had been unable to come in under such short notice; something about a grandmother. So not only were your nerves shot worrying about when you should tell Elvis you were quitting and how it felt like you were harbouring some awful secret, you were also having to steel yourself to be overworked and run down by the time you were able to get off the plane. When you peek out around the partition you get the first glance of him and you’re a little embarrassed at how you can feel a flush start to rise just from that look.  

He looks not dissimilar to how he did that first day on Big Bunny - open collared shirt and jogging jacket on - this time a navy blue with a baby blue stripe down the shoulder and arm. He looks good - like you could just burrow into him, and you’re relieved that the sudden demand for your appearance isn’t for something panic-inducing from the way he’s smiling and chatting - laughing with Charlie and Joe. You’d been a little concerned that the rapidity of the request was hiding a more sinister origin after a similar call had preceded a rush to the hospital last summer. But he was looking good, really good actually. Somehow his face had lost some of its puffiness it’d been holding onto and he was a far better colour than you’d gotten used to - perhaps a high from the success of his New Year’s concert as he’d been pleased with the reaction and reviews or maybe even just high off the excitement of his, apparently, serious relationship with Ginger. Although, evidently not altogether that serious since she wasn’t joining them; you’d already decided you’d keep your thoughts about that to yourself. You shyly watch him from across the plane where he’s already sat himself down, comfortable in his own space and leaning against the back - his legs spread wide, retelling some story you’ve already heard once before. You take a deep breath before heading around the little partition, fully intending on acting as if you had an important job to do by the door. You managed to keep the ruse up long enough to shut the door and let Ron know you were all set to go, long enough to hand out drinks and cigars and let them all settle in,  but you couldn’t pass directly by him again without him noticing you, and his arm shoots out, grabbing your wrist as you go to walk past. You barely have a chance to notice his hold on you before he’s pulling you in, forcing you to bend over in order to accept a kiss on the cheek in greeting. You can’t explain why you’re so nervous, but you find your tummy flipping at the close proximity to him. With anxiety or excitement, you can’t quite tell. In some ways it’s slightly more forward than you’d expected from him for having not seen him in a month, but perhaps you had just gotten used to him ignoring you in the months prior.  

“Good evening, Elvis.” It’s a fine line between polite and aloof, and you can already tell you’ll be reliving this interaction all night. His eyes are bright with amusement at your formality when he gazes back at you, his thumb still gently stroking over your wrist.   

“Well, it is now.” He grins as you visibly cringe at his cheesiness, “Good evening to you too, honey.” He looks you over as he lets go of your hand, allowing you to stand back up, and eyeing your hemline, “‘re you ready for the cold?”  

“Hopefully it’s not gonna be too cold on the plane,” You stumble over your words in nerves, “but I can always turn the heat up a little - “Elvis shakes his head, 

“Nah, I’ll keep you toasty, hon, snug as a, as a bug.” You struggle to regain your composure as your mind flickers with images of just how he could be keeping you warm.  

“Hmm, I suppose you’ll have to since someone makes me wear this. But I’m pretty well covered anyway.” You grin in response to his smirk when you gesture down at your stockinged legs.  

“Well, that’s real good doll,” He runs a hand through his thick hair, letting a hint of the grey around his temples show as he pushes it back, and you find yourself missing the steadying warmth of his grip, “but you know - we’re stopping in Vail.”  

You pause, unsure how to put it politely, “Mmhmm, that’s what Elwood tells me.” He frowns, leaning back and settling even further into the seat, arm spreading across the back rest and he shifts so his thighs are encasing you.  

“Alright then miss know-it-all, tell me what I was gonna say next.” He stares at you, and it makes your insides twist even as you can feel heat pooling in your stomach.  

“Uhhh,” You struggle, to try and think of what to say that will maintain the teasing playful tone, feeling like you’ve been called on daydreaming in the middle of class with everyone’s eyes on you and simultaneously totally distracted by the feel of his legs against yours. He smirks as you flounder, “Well, perhaps, that you uh,”  

“You can say you don’t know.” He sing-songs it, “Silly little girl like you can’t know everything, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the frustration rise at his teasing,  

“No. I suppose not.” He smiles crookedly, pleased he gets to tell you the next part, even as he explains it like you’re a little slow.  

“I was goin’ to say that I hope you’ve got a coat somewhere…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “since you’re comin’ with us.” Your brain goes blank.  

“Me?”  

“Why not?” He straightens a leg, it, perhaps inadvertently, knocks against yours and you immediately feel your gaze pulled to it, the heat of his thigh against your knee making your head go fuzzy. “Been a while since we’ve been off this plane together.” He’s looking at you hopefully, eyes wide behind his shades and you can feel your insides fizzing with excitement - even as you feel the need to protest,  

“Oh well that’s very kind but -”  

“C’mooon, honey - it’ll be fun! Hot cocoa, and, and skis, and playin’ in the snow.” His leg moves again, the soft cotton blend of his jogging suit catching on your nylons, “Dashin’ through the snow…” Your mouth opens, about to make a Paul Anka joke but one look at his encouraging smile puts you off,  

“Oh, well, like I said, that’s very kind - but I don’t, I don’t have any clothes or coats or boots or -” He cuts you off with a tut, rolling his eyes and shaking his head like you were being particularly stupid.  

“I was only kidding before.” He sounds a little petulant at the suggestion, “You don’t needta worry ‘bout that - we’ll get you sorted out.” He nods, as if you’d already given him your agreement.  

“That’s very generous Elvis, but I don’t know how to ski.”  

“Don’t worry I’ll teach ya!” He seems overwhelmingly confident considering you and he both know he doesn’t know how to ski, “You can just be - hey!” He sits himself back upright in his excitement, knocking against you enough that you shift on your feet, “You can just be my little snow bunny, can’t ya?” He laughs as he says it, and his laughter is infectious - you find yourself giggling along with him,  

“I suppose that would be fitting.” 

“ ‘Sides what else were you gonna do while we were out?”  

“Well…what I normally do - fly home or stay in whatever hotel I’ve had booked for me.” He looks curious for a second, “Sometimes I visit people if we’re close to someone I know.”  

“Do I book ‘em?”  

“Uh. Well. I think maybe your daddy does? Or, whoever’s organising everyone on your behalf yeah, sure.”  

“Oh…” He looks contemplative, before with a frown, “Are they nice?”  

“They’re fine El - it’s normally the same place the band is.” It’s sometimes a shithole but you’re not about to tell Elvis that.  

“Would you - why… did you not wanna come with me?” He half-whispers it and your brain stutters to a halt,  

“What? That’s not, that wasn’t ever an option Elvis.”  

“Well. It is today. Come with us.” He holds out a hand, serious for the first time in the conversation and with his eyes looking at you like that even if you’d wanted to refuse you couldn’t. You nod in agreement, acquiescing to his demand. 

 “C’mere then.” He tugs you down against him and you wriggle into place on his lap, the fabric of his trousers catching on your nylons as you settle against his sturdy thighs. He rubs gently at your calf, his thumb and forefinger encircling your ankle and you feel yourself relax out of your self-consciousness to enjoy the closeness.  

You laugh at a terrible joke at Joe’s expense and Elvis’ legs shake underneath you as you collapse against him in a fit of giggles. Your giggles taper off as you feel him twitch against your thigh. You school your face but can’t stop yourself turning to look at him in surprise, and more than a little excitement. His expression is unchanged, and you wiggle almost imperceptibly, come out, come out and play. It twitches again, and Elvis shifts as if in discomfort, you glance around but no one else seems to be paying you any attention - already distracted by something or someone else so you feel comfortable you’re not about to get caught as you try to wriggle your hand down to him. He immediately clamps an arm around your waist, holding you tight in place - your arm caught between you both. He looks down at you amused and you bite your lip - a pretty pitiful attempt at seduction,  

“Shh.”  

You indicate to the bedroom, more than a little disappointed when he shakes his head. “Later baby.”  

He keeps you trapped on his lap, making it impossible for you to go and do anything, making the boys make their own drinks even when they try and ask you. Even when you try to whisper that you need to get up, he holds you there, gently soothing you back into compliance with a press of his lips, a whispered promise, a stroke of his fingers.  

“Elvis I really hafta get up - we’ll be comin’ down soon and I’ve gotta make sure - “ 

“It’ll be fine baby, don’t worry ‘bout it.”  

“Well, we can’t just sit here forever - at the very least I’ll have to go and open the doors.”  

“Shit baby, Ron or Jim or God, I’m sure even fucking Elwood can manage that. No offense doll but I think they might even be more qualified at it than you. Besides I ain’t payin you to open doors.”  

You push off his chest, turning to face him and interjecting before he can even continue that thought,  

“You sure as hell aren’t paying me to keep you ‘company’ either.” He rolls his eyes,  

“We’ve been through this, I don’t give a fuck about the plane or anything else. Your job is to care for me.” His eyes burn behind his shades, and the intensity of his frown takes you a little by surprise. You stroke the wrinkle on his brow,  

“‘m sorry but look - I have a couple of things I have to do and anyway you’re gonna have to put a seatbelt on in a second, because it’ll get bumpy - and if you hit your head, I’m not being responsible for it.” You wag one of the heavy gold seatbelts at him and he sighs,  

“Well, fine, but you’re mine soon as we land. No excuses then.” His hand strokes your thigh, and your tummy flips,  

“No excuses. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.” There’s a hum, and you both suddenly realise Larry has come a lot closer than before, “Your hostess I mean.”  

——————————— 

Ron patted your arm as you disembarked with the others. “Remember we’ll be there soon too,” He looks at you, “We’re staying at Betty’s aunt’s place, but I’m sure we’ll be invited round.” You nod, reading between the lines and you smile, 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” 

“You do that. Have fun.” He winks, disappearing back into the cockpit and you take a breath before rejoining the group dispersing into a collection of cars.  

“What’s she doin’?” The whisper travels as you climb into the car, Larry and Joe start to reply but Elvis jumps in before either could get their words out too.  

“Goddamnit,” He kicks the seat in front although it certainly wasn’t Joe who had piped up, “She’s coming too - so shut yer fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”  He shouts out the open door and slamming it shut. He slides across the bench seat to be pressed close against you, his hand curling over your thigh.  

You smile shyly, pleased when Shirley turns around to smile at you, you weren’t her biggest fan - she’d never been overly friendly, but at least she was now acknowledging you.  

A whirlwind shopping excursion ensued while Elvis sent the other car to scout out where he wanted to stay. You were a little taken aback, but not altogether surprised, that he’d demanded the trip on such a whim that he hadn’t even secured proper accommodation, but he did a fairly good job of explaining himself while you were being sent back and forth from different stores for the appropriate clothing.  

“The thing is …” You kind of zone out while he talks, the story leading from one to another, before returning to the actual point he was trying to get to, but you appreciate the rumble of his voice and the gossipy tone that makes you feel a part of his exclusive little group. You manage to capture the gist though; that he was pretty sure they could stay at the same lodge as last time, because it was a friends but he hadn’t actually asked - since the decision to go away hadn’t been made until yesterday, and that he couldn’t see any reason why not - but if they had problem with it there was surely other, bigger better lodges to stay that would be overjoyed to host him.  

You were tired by the time he decreed that you finally had a suitable wardrobe and he looked over the collection of bags with satisfaction, although - despite the three other coats he bought you, he still felt the need to lament that it was a; 

“Damn near trav’sty,  none of these backwater stores have white fur. Can’t be a proper little snow bunny,” He sighs, “Joe - make sure we order her one for next time.”  

Your chest glows at the nonchalant way he says it - like he just expects you to be there again. Like it’s no big deal. The other car returns with good news, and they all filter up to the same lodge as the year before. 

“I reckon Ron and Bob’ll regret being such fucking, well, they’ll regret it anyhow now - once they see this and know they could’ve been here too.” You don’t know what to say, so you stick with saying nothing and Elvis tuts and shakes his head, shifting to stare out of the window, although he doesn’t pull his hand away from where you’re making little circles on his palm.  

It’s dark and late outside, and yet Elvis demands everyone get suited up to go and play in the snow, and everyone is in high enough spirits not to protest. You’ve not yet had a lesson though, and as you pull on your brand-new ski suit you playfully refuse to even entertain the prospect of heading anywhere on actual skis - Elvis doesn’t seem to be disappointed, grinning at you under his mask and gesturing for you to clamber onto the back of his snowmobile.  

Despite his promises on the plane, things never did, that first night, progress past heavy petting in the bedroom - but it was something just to have his thick weight next to you in the bed, laughing and joking as he pressed kisses down your face and throat. His little huffs of laughter as you returned the favour tickling his chest made you feel the same pleasurable contentment as if he’d decided to fuck you for hours.  

It was rare, recently, for him to be in such high spirits and still lucid - and you couldn’t help but wonder whether Dr Nick had managed to work out the exact right combination of drugs to keep him perfectly stable, or if he was contributing more placebos. Either way, you weren’t privy to their intimate conversations, nor allowed to witness his daily dosing. The most you saw was the little pills he put into his palm, twice as many as he tipped into yours, before bed and in the morning alongside the occasional couple that he nonchalantly explained them away simply as “Jus’ a little painkiller.” Shrugging his shoulders.  But either he was being a lot sneakier - and you weren’t sure you should be viewing that as a good thing - or he was finally listening to concern and easing himself off a little.  

It felt like it had in those first few weeks after you’d met him - carefree and fun. And somehow you felt yourself relaxing from the tense feeling you’d had since the start of last year. The worries falling off of your shoulders. You spent the first two days joined at the hip - not even really partaking in the snow sports on offer; snuggling up on the snowmobile and then taking yourselves off to curl up in the lodge instead.  

The third day, or really night - since as always with Elvis you soon found your days and nights flipped around - he was ecstatic about the fresh, perfect snow and clear weather and you’d all been sent out to play.  

It felt like a long night by the time Elvis was happy to let everyone return to the house. He hadn’t even joined you on the slopes properly, instead choosing to order everyone about from the comfort of his snowmobile.   

“C’mon fellas - get into a line! Go on! I’ll chase ya!”  

“For god’s sake Billy, move it along! You nearly made me take your whole damn leg off!” A pause, before raucous laughter ensued, “Again!”  

Still, you hadn’t minded this turn of events since it meant you hadn’t had to try and remember your rushed and hurried lesson on the nursery slopes that afternoon. Instead, you’d given it one go accompanied by his shouts of laughter at your falling,  

“How’d a dancer get to be so goddamn clumsy?”  

“I wasn’t a dancer!” You’d protested from your position flat on your back in the snow.  

“You danced real pretty for me though doll.” You rolled your eyes, scrambling back to your feet, trying not to pout as you brushed yourself off, he shook his head laughing once more before shouting back at you.  

“Aw now darlin’, that ain’t a pretty sight. C’mon, better hop onto the back of here, it’ll be a bit safer for you.” He’d said it through giggles, and you felt the determination to get down by yourself rise up again,  

“That won’t be necessary!” You attempted to take off again, and just as you were attempting to straighten your skis, about 12 feet from where you had last fallen, you were on your side again in the snow. Elvis didn’t give you a choice this time, angrily killing the engine completely and storming over as best he could through the thick snow, yanking you up by your arm and dusting you off himself.  

“‘S not the time to be stubborn, C’mon now.” You can’t see his facial expression, obscured by his layers and the dark but you can hear that his annoyed words would be accompanied by tightly knitted eyebrows and a frown. 

“I can do it.” You angrily pulled your arm out of his grasp, the momentum immediately making you start to lose your balance again, and Elvis catches you before you could fall for a third time. 

“For heaven’s sake,” You can practically hear his eyes roll, accompanied by a sigh as he tries to change tact, “I’m sure you can, but it’s dark, and you’ve already tripped twice.” You frown, and he placates, a soothing hand rubbing down your arm, “I just, I just worry about you baby, c’mon, let me look after you - you’re liable to break - no no no, don’t look at me like that,” His hand comes up to cup your face, “I just care about you s’all, don’t want you to get hurt.” He says it so honestly and affectionately that you find yourself nodding in agreement, and truthfully, despite your obstinance, you couldn’t have agreed more - you probably would break a leg if he’d let you go on. He grins at you, “There we are, you know it makes sense, don’t you - there’s my good little bunny. C’mon then, hop to it,” He pats your ass encouragingly, although the padding makes the action redundant, and you slowly make your way over to the snowmobile. 

You climbed onto the back slightly awkwardly, almost reluctant to be too close in front of all the guys, despite your cuddling the days before - they’d always been a little more distracted by their own activities to spend much time assessing yours. But Elvis yanked your arm around at the first possible chance, patting your hand where it lay against his padded stomach and tugging you to press yourself against him. You were getting a little bored, and nervous, of all the commotion so you found yourself totally content to curl against his body for warmth and tuck your chin into his shoulder. Despite your brand-new base layers, and soft down ski suit, there had still been enough of a chill in the night air, and from laying in the cold snow, that you were eager to be as close as possible. Elvis’ figure was more padded than you were used to feeling him, his coat also puffy and filled with down. You took immense pleasure in squeezing him tightly enough that you felt the padding compress, eager hands trying to find his body underneath. You found yourself considering, as one hand came to play with the little hairs escaping his mask and goggles at the base of his neck, that it was a damn shame you were both so covered up, since you couldn’t smell him. If you’d been less love-drunk on him you’d have been amazed at yourself; at thinking it was a damn shame, you were unable to smell an undoubtedly sweaty man.  

You have no idea how long you spent on the back of the snowmobile, hands roving all over him; only that you quickly lost all sense of self-consciousness and instead felt a rising feeling of possession. A dangerous feeling if ever there was one, but enough that you felt your manicured hands staking their claim, rubbing over his arms and back. Elvis seemed to be enjoying it, shifting to be closer to you whenever you moved away, and patting at your arm.  

When he finally, at speeds far too reckless for the early morning night sky, drove you back to the lodge he barely said a word to the rest of the group grabbing your hand and pulling you straight to the master bedroom. It was exciting and, whilst you were almost reluctant to get your hopes up too high, your thighs had been clenching of their own accord for the past hour and you could feel the dampness of your underwear against your warm delicate skin - it was impossible not to; you’d been on edge for hours.  

He’s sweaty from his layers, his red face revealed when he pulls his ski mask and goggles off, there’s a hint of stubble coming through and his face looks alive, cheeks plump with his grin. You were happy to be back in the comfort of the wood-panelled bedroom, although its cozy feel belied the chill that seemed to remain in the air of the wintry cabin. Elvis doesn’t say anything as he concentrates on taking off layer after layer until he’s mostly down to his bare, pinkened skin. You smile when it’s revealed he hadn’t backed down from his childlike refusal to wear proper base layers, silk shirt coming into view but at least you can tell from the sweat patches and his damp skin that he’d certainly been warm enough. You feel like you’re melting from the inside out from the sheer fondness overtaking you until he tugs it over his head, an unusual lack of care shown to it.  You meet his eyes in pleased surprise, and you’re further taken aback at how he manages to make his eyes twinkle so much, playfully glittering in the low light of the room. You can see his smirk growing as your eyes travel down his bare chest, an involuntary noise spilling out of your mouth. It’s been so long since you had the chance to stare at him like this. Elvis gestures at you, disrupting your intense focus, and you suddenly realise you’ve been standing still staring at him for almost too long, so you rapidly start to unboot yourself. You don’t get any further than kicking your shoes off before Elvis is suddenly in front of you. He brushes your hands off of yourself, fingering at your zipper himself. He twirls it between his fingers, ever so gently with one hand - the other coming to distract you from the anticipation by cupping your face, drawing you around to look into your eyes.  

Elvis’ hair has always been long enough for you to run your fingers through, but it seems to have grown almost thicker, and you inch even closer to stroke his cheeks, pushing back his hair - frizzy from its woollen containment. Despite Larry’s accompaniment on the trip when you brush back the hair at his temples you can see the same hint of grey starting to show through as before, and you can’t resist stroking the strands there.   

He smiles at you, pulling you into him to kiss you, making you breathless. As soon as you were distracted, he was unzipping the jacket of your snowsuit, shoving it off your shoulders and down to your waist. It falls to your feet by itself and you immediately pull off your under layers. It simultaneously feels frenzied but also slower than before; like both of you couldn’t wait even though you knew you had the chance to take your time. You lean back so he can tug your undershirt over your head, barely breaking contact with his lips. He pulls back, grinning, after fiddling with your bra clasp, the straps falling from your shoulders. Soon you’re practically nude, your naked chest pressed against his.  

He feels solid against you; it’s been a long time since you both had the opportunity to take your time like this, and his body feels slightly different than before. He still had that uniquely Elvis feel but he was sturdier, and though you doubted it could possibly be true, it felt as if his soft carpet of chest and stomach hair had grown larger, trailing down into the swell of his stomach like a tantalising arrow. He’s surer of himself than he was the last time you found yourself naked with him, reminding you of how he was back on Big Bunny, his broad yet slender hands firmly spanning your sides. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were finding him so attractive because it had been a while, or if it really was just that he always looks good. Any thought was swept from your mind though when he recaptures your mouth, his lips soft and firm against yours, and his tongue insistently presses past yours in a way that could only be described as eager.  

The movement of your chests against each other is enough for you to gasp against him - desperately moving to be closer, trying to practically become one with him. You can feel him smile at your desperate noises, before he moves a little. One of his hands slide down to rest at your waist, the other encircling your wrist. He holds it at your side, your other arm is trapped between you, and you whine at him between gasping breaths that it’s not fair, “C’mon El, that’s unfair, let me touch you,” He grins against your cheek, his spare hand moving to palm up at you.  

Elvis presses a kiss against the side of your mouth, and as you start to voice your protests at his movement he mutters, “I just need - let me light the fire, hon.” against your skin, the vibration of his voice causing you to shiver. He pulls away with a final tug to your bottom lip, and you find yourself pouting at the loss of his heat. You fold your arms across your chest, a little self-conscious now he’s moved away and besides it was slightly chilly, but you couldn’t bear to let him leave you - besides weren’t you about to warm each other up? Although, maybe you were more ready than he was; as he was soft still, and the thought of him tending to the fire - the domesticity of the combination made your stomach clench perhaps more than if he’d been hard and ready to go. But still, you were reluctant to allow him to move away.  

“I’m sure I’m hot enough,” He shakes his head, kissing your hand as he lets go of you entirely, “Honestly - we-we’ll be under the covers in a moment anyway, and I’m, I’m already burning babe.” But he’s already wandered over to the fireplace; thankfully it had been left pretty well set-up, and all that really has to be done is the physical lighting of the kindling already in place and you console yourself with the knowledge that it should only take a few seconds.   

“Not gonna let my bitty baby bunny get cold, hims gotta take care of herses.” He mutters seemingly mostly to himself although he was more than loud enough for you to hear. It does the job he intended it to, and you can feel yourself start to melt in response. He glances back at you as he crouches by the fireplace.  

“Hadta do this in the army baby,” You start to laugh at his tangent, “Yeah I did!” He ardently refutes your chuckle, “- with none of these fancy tools,” He’s holding up a box of firelighters, “No siree, just two sticks and a rock and I could light anything up.” You giggle, finding the situation all the more amusing when you notice he seems to be struggling to light it now. He keeps trying with the book of matches from the side, but for some reason they just won’t seem to take and he huffs, swearing, standing himself back up from his kneeling position to storm over to his jacket, fumbling in his pocket for one of his lighters. Your jaw drops as you watch him reach inside the fire to hold one of the crumbling firelighters in his hand, and he lights it to the accompaniments of your shrieks and admonishments;  

“Elvis! Oh god put that down! You’ll set your - oh lord, you’ll set your chest on fire doing that!” He turns to grin at you, before swearing as the fire licks his fingers, throwing the flaming chunk into the fire, and finally - finally watching as the kindling starts to flicker.  

“Told you, honey, no problem at all.” He shrugs his shoulders, but your heart rate hasn’t yet levelled back out and you can’t help but continue to scold him.  

“Jesus, what would I have told everyone! I swear -” He stands up, away from the fire now crackling to life, holding his hands out placatingly,  

“No, no, no,” He grins, “No sweat, baby, I knew what I was doin’.” He’s got that boyish glint in his eyes, happy as only a man who has achieved a stupidly primal action like lighting a fire or setting off a firework can be, and when you continue to scold him he suddenly rushes at you, knocking you off your feet and sending you tumbling together onto the bed. His broad arms come around you, holding you like a movie starlet swooning in his arms.  

“Shhhh…. honey, bunny, I knew what I was doin’ ok? You see, I was just foolin’ around, pretendin’ I couldn’t light it - you know, just messin’ with you a little, just - just for fun.” You snort in disbelief, although you’re quickly distracted as he kisses the crook of your neck, following an invisible line down to your shoulder and back up to your neck, one of his hands coming to hold the back of your neck while the other traces circle on your stomach. You gasp, and you can feel his grin against you.  

“El—vis, oh - god, you can, let me get these off - please,” and you wriggle out of your panties, shoving them to your knees and kicking them off, when you manage to flick them off of your ankle  your legs return to the bed, slightly more parted than before, desperately inviting Elvis to do more.  

“You believe me don’t you honey?” His fingertips dance over you,  

“Wha-” He repeats the question, 

“You believe me, right, bunny? Y’know I could’ve lit it in seconds?”  his fingers trace below your belly button.  

“Uh, yeah, yeah, of course - who needs firelighters! Not Elvis!” He grins at you, and the sight of it makes you tease further, “Boy, you could, you could,” You giggle breathlessly, “You could make it a part of your show, you know - what can’t Elvis set on fire?!” You do a jazz hands gesture for emphasis. Elvis throws his head back in laughter, his head hitting the pillows and you wriggle in pleased amusement next to him for a moment before he sits back up,  

“Oh ho - you take that back, little girl,” His fingers prod into you, tickling your sides and you scrunch up as you giggle more,  

“I take it - oh! I take it back! You did, you did an excellent job.” He nods in self-satisfaction,  

“Now,” his hands soothe the pinkened skin from where he’d jabbed into you, “Let me make you feel good, baby.” Elvis leans up and over you, cupping your face to pull you into another, deep, kiss while his hand finally travels down past your navel, brushing over your inner thighs. Your hips jerk up, as if offering yourself up to him. You can feel his arousal growing against your thigh, twitching like the little bunny nose he claimed you had. 

“Lord, bunny, you’re so soft, can barely feel ya, s’like silk down here I swear to god.” Your eyes slip closed, your back arching at the feel of his soft pads sliding through the silky wetness of your folds, and your legs opening a little wider of their own accord in invitation, begging him to go lower or higher or something. When all of a sudden you feel a chill at the loss of his presence as he moves away. Your eyes flutter back open to see him, bare ass on show, bent over and poking at the fire - adding an additional log that immediately crackles and spits, onto the top.  

“El-Elvis.” The situation catches you by surprise; to be abandoned in favour of fiddling with a fire could be seen as a little offensive in some ways, but it tickles you and the giggles overcome you before you can ask what exactly he was playing at.  

“Ah, sorry honey, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging’ there but it was in danger of goin’ out.” He runs his hand through his hair as he stands back up, his hands falling to just below his hips for a second while he surveys the fire - making doubly sure he’d gotten it set up.  He stretches, and you admire the muscles in his back as they move with his arms for a moment. He turns and stalks back over to the bed - immediately jumping beside you, bouncing you up before he gathers you back into his arms. His hand reaching across you to cling you to him, arm over your waist, finger barely brushing a nipple.  

“You should worry about me going out at this rate -” He laughs at you, rubbing his thick fingers down your sides.  

“Ohh-ho, but baby, bunny, I thought you were burnin’ for me? “He does his famous lip movement, somewhat self-deprecatingly, “just a...” He moves his hips next to you, “burnin’ love. Uh-huh? Bunny love?” You bite your lip at him - it was funny, but more than anything you can feel the arousal growing again in the pit of your stomach. He smiles at you, not expecting a response before he shakes his head, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before flopping back to stretch out on his back. You roll with him, lazily kissing his chest. It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt with him in months, maybe even in the past year.  

He slides his hand back down, one of his long, thicker but still fundamentally slender, fingers preceding the others. You’re more than ready for him, and while your hips move in response to him pressing it past your entrance it’s not enough for the desire burning inside you.  

“’S no good - can I - are you, are you ready for me?” He looks at you a little surprised,  

“Yeah, sure, just - how d’you want the pillows.” He makes as if to get up and move himself off of his back, but you stop him with a hand to his chest. Your fingertips tweak his nipple, just the tiniest bit and you take pleasure in his open-mouthed reaction; perhaps a little surprised at your initiative and he looks wide-eyed when you tell him,  

“Well, maybe I could…uhh..y’know,” You gesture vaguely towards his cock, he blinks at you, “Climb on?” His mouth stays open for a moment before he seems to remember himself, remember that such an offer shouldn’t seem a surprise to him. If you had the brain power to think you would consider it a little sad; the confidence he’d had on Big Bunny in comparison to now. He shakes his head, even as he settles back against the headboard, seeming to recollect himself, smirking.  

“Sure thing, honey, I just thought women didn’t like doin’ any of the work.” You roll your eyes, not bothering to mention that this wasn’t even the first time you’d ridden him, but still, you swing your leg over him and with a helping hand from him to position himself you settle down, your thighs straining over the breadth of his lap. You immediately regret your decision to face him when you realise it means he’s watching your face almost too closely, and you say a silent prayer of thanks that you had had enough experience with him that you weren’t overly intimidated.  He holds himself steady, letting you sink yourself down onto the sturdy length of him. His own face screws up, falling back onto the pillow behind him at the feel of the warmth of your wet heat pressing down onto him. You struggle for balance for a second, before your hands find their way onto his shoulders for a moment while you adjust to him. It’s been a while, a fact Elvis points out as he gasps at you that,  

“Oh - lord, Jesus, honey, you been waitin’ for me? Ain’t - God, takin’ me so goddamn perfectly; feels just right for little Elvie, such a good little bunny, all for me.” Your hands scramble down his chest to his, admittedly thicker and softer middle, to push back and hold yourself up.  

“Elvis - you feel, oh, I, I’ve missed this,” You shudder around him,  

“Can tell,” He huffs as you start to lift up on your knees, “Can tell you’ve been so good for me, huh baby,” He grips your hipbones, “just a itty bitty baby bun bein’ good for me, holdin’ on jus for me.” You moan at the feel of the different angle he hits inside of you from this position, and as you find your momentum rising up and rocking yourself back down you feel your confidence growing.  

“Oh, uh-huuh, good girl, oh lord that’s sexy…” You moan in response as you lean backwards a little, encouraging him to come up to play with your breasts. It amuses you how he still tweaks and pulls like a teen in the back of his daddy’s car, yet somehow, he manages to get the pressure just right, grinning at you knowingly as he licks his fingertips before bringing them back to your nipples twisting them just enough that the combination sends a rush of wetness. It’s a distraction for a second, but mere moments later and your thighs are screaming at you. Unlike on Big Bunny though this time you’re determined to see it through, and you blink through half-closed eyes at him, his own sweaty face staring back at you, mouth-open. Your hands paw at his chest, struggling to find something to grip to get the leverage you need, fingertips scratching at his chest hair, and Elvis eventually puts his hands back to your waist, his own hips moving to help you bounce on him.  

You can no longer bring yourself to care about how you look - entirely lost in the sensations - groaning a little in annoyance as your hair falls over your face and into your eyes. You struggle to try and brush it away while still keeping your balance and momentum but quickly you feel Elvis’ hands move from your waist, one large sweaty paw coming up to push your hair off your face, his thumb stroking down your cheek after it’s tucked back. You let him slip it past your mouth as you rock onto him, moaning against his soft skin. His mouth stays open watching you with heated eyes,   

“C’mon now, mama, finish the job.” You nod rapidly, his thumb tumbling out of your mouth, and he trails the spit-soaked digit down to rub along your thigh, letting his hips jerk into you, rolling with the movement. His hand sinks down, and your hands come to his shoulders as he starts to roll his thumb against your clit, his hand resting on the joint of your thigh and his other coming to back down to clutch at your hipbone. You’re almost there when you feel his hand suddenly pause as his hips thrust up more aggressively than before - more like how he used to perform and you’re about to shriek in protest, tell him off for stopping you right at the precipice, until you see his face screwed up, perfect lips open.  

“Oh - Oh, fuck, fu-fu-uck.” He stutters the word, relief palpable, as if releasing after an immeasurable time. His hand moves back to play with you, his thumb moving rapidly, rubbing exactly over the right spot and it’s almost too much, the overstimulation making you lose your words as he slips and slides it back and forth. You’re begging him for something, although you’re not sure what and he praises you as you grind against him.  

“That’s it, that’s it,” Elvis is breathless still as he encourages you, “C’mon bunny, you can give it to me baby, c’mon baby, c’mon.” He’s growling in your ear and you fall forward, his softening cock rubbing wetly against your folds as you land against his chest. His voice is enough to tip you over the edge, and you find yourself rutting against him, gasping into his collarbone before going stiff, stomach muscles and thighs convulsing as you twitchingly hurtle through an orgasm.  “Shit.” He swipes his thumb over you again and you flinch away, but he pulls it away himself, shushing you before he pats his other hand onto your back and you jolt at what amounted to a an unintentionally heavy thump, his thumb stroking and soothing you back to quiet. His lips press against your shoulder blade, I love you it feels like he whispers against your skin, and you shout it back to him in your mind.  

The next day you think to get ahead of Elvis, sending him to go and play with the guys while you rush back into the house, claiming a headache and a desire for an early night. You’ve lit the fire by the time he gets in and while you’d debated waiting for him naked and ready, you’d grown too self-conscious in his absence, so you were tucked under the covers; supposedly reading his book he’d left on the nightstand although you’d done more listening out for their return than actual reading.  

You can hear him shouting to the boys on his way through, no regard for the idea that you might be asleep. He comes bounding through the door, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of you. The door falling closed behind him with a clunk.  

“You waitin’ up for me, bunny?” You swallow, trying your best at seduction, shoving the covers off to unveil your lingerie clad body,  

“Uh-huh,” You nod, “Waiting and waiting just for you.” He grins, unzipping his jacket and starting to stalk towards you. The fire crackles and he pauses, his head turning to look at it.  

“Oh. You lit it without me?” Your mind runs in circles as you try to work out his tone,  

“Um, yeah - it was cold, so…” He frowns, looking back at you, huffing as he shoves off his jacket entirely, you come to the realisation that he’s actually a little annoyed, “I, I, just thought it would save you a job - you know, it would all be done, and you could just…” You gesture down yourself. He doesn’t respond, finishing stripping himself off and collecting up his pyjamas to take them into the bathroom with him. 

“Elvis? You’re not, don’t be mad at me - I really was just trying to be helpful.” He shakes his head,  

“I’m not mad, baby.” Elvis disappears into the bathroom leaving you to squirm on the bed, your tummy in knots. You’ve put his book back on his nightstand and have tucked yourself back under the sheets, feeling too exposed to stay as you were, by the time he comes back out clearly ready for bed himself. He throws back the sheets, climbing in,  

“I-I like doin’ it honey, honest -” He opens up his arms for you to curl into, “I know the place has proper heat and all, but it just feels more, uh, atmospheric, doesn’t it?”  

“I know El, that’s, that’s why I lit it?” He hums against the top of your head,  

“I know sweetheart, uh, thank you, but I like taking care of you.” You nod in understanding, trying not to be too disappointed that your attempt at doing something nice seemed to have derailed your night. “So, what did you think?” He nods towards his book, 

“Oh, I- I barely got a chapter in, I didn’t wanna lose your place,” You settle against his chest, 

“Oh no, honey, I’ve - I’ve read it over and over, not got a place to lose - you go right ahead.” You mumble a thank you, but make no attempt to move, “Or I could read it to you?” His hand strokes your back, and you nod your head against his chest,  

“That would be nice - yes, thank you.”  

“Did you like it?”  

“Mmhmm…. what, what do you like about it?” He never picks the book back up and you happily drift off to the sounds of his deep voice rumbling on about his spiritual conclusions from the text.  

——————————— 

The next morning you find yourself waking up much earlier than everyone else, and you end up unable to fall back to sleep. You eye the bottle of pills on Elvis’ nightstand, but you would be too nervous to take something without waking him up and he looks so peaceful, gently snuffling beside you. Instead, you end up pottering about in the kitchen, making yourself a drink and curling up onto the couch in the living room with his book. An hour or so later Billy stumbles across you on his own hunt for a cup of coffee, and it’s almost awkwardly silent for a second as he stares at you from across the room. You’re just about to ask if there was something he wanted you to do when he breaks the silence first,  

“You know…he’s really going for Ginger.” He looks you up and down, “But, you could - well, what I mean to say is that the boys like you.” You’re taken aback, unsure what he even means by that, and you stumble over your response,  

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes or anything, you know I’m just - I’ve never been skiing so Elvis asked and -” He cuts you off mid-sentence,  

“Look I’m not saying you’ve gotta go around acting like you’re off the streets, but just you know. If you wanted,” He gestures in the general direction of the hallway and Elvis’ bedroom. “I’m sure… well I know I wouldn’t protest.” You swallow hard as you try to consider the correct response.  

“That’s very kind of you to say. I appreciate it.” You’re a little nervous this is a test and while part of you wants to bombard him with questions about what the issue is with Ginger - and does he really think you have a chance with Elvis? Like his girlfriend? You’re not sure how much will get back to Elvis and you’d rather be painted as cold than desperately vying for Ginger’s spot.  Part of you cringes at the implication that all the guys were out discussing his relationships; that they all thought they knew best, on the other hand the little you’d seen of Ginger did little to change your perception from the same as theirs. She seemed nice enough, but Elvis certainly seemed a lot more hot and heavy than her. Even if there hadn’t been a lot of hot and heavy lately - except, apparently with you.  

Later, when everyone but Elvis was up and despite everyone else’s protestations (and Billy’s attempts) you stayed firm in your resolve not to let them light the fire in even the main room. If Elvis wanted to do it and liked doing it, you were going to be damn sure it was there for him to do. It was storming quite heavily outside, and while you waited for Elvis to wake up, you’d all decided it was best to hang around inside.  

You settled down on the floor by the coffee table to set up some cards, pretending to be nonchalant about where you’d placed yourself even as you hoped your position would put you exactly by his legs, and the perfect distance for optimum warmth from the, soon to be lit, fire. Elvis chooses that moment to walk in from the bedroom, in yet another strange silk shirt and tracksuit combination.  

“Hi doll,” He bends over to press a kiss the top of your head, and you lean up into it. He rubs his hands together in an exaggerated motion as if for warmth when he stands back up.  

 “Shit. It’s fucking freezing in here.” He looks around, “Why’d no-one light the fire?” They all turn to glare at you, and you start to explain, stumbling over your words.  

“Yesterday! Yesterday - you, you were offended, when I - I just thought you’d enjoy it!” You protest, and Elvis stares at you, eyes narrowing as if you were the white witch putting the cabin into permanent winter. 

“Offended! Lord, the whole goddamn world will be fuckin’ offended when I can’t sing for shit b’cause I’ve caught pneu-neu-monia and my throat’s scratched to all hell!”  

“Oh, I didn’t - I mean, the main heat is on - I didn’t think…” He ignores you to plop himself down opposite to where you were sitting, miles away from where you’d been planning and anticipating for him to sit. Elvis angrily gestures towards the fire and both Ed and Dick rush towards it, making sure it was lit quickly. You can feel the other girls look at you sympathetically, even as you desperately try to avoid everyone else’s eye, annoyed and upset at being publicly scolded. It’s bad enough for Elvis to be pissed off with you in public, you didn’t need their pity too. It felt like you were being judged for not knowing how to deal with him like this, you can feel some of them - Joe and Shirley for sure - rolling their eyes at you, but you didn’t know better; every time he’d been annoyed in the past you could escape with the excuse of needing to get something from the galley or you were alone in the bedroom together - and you could use other methods to soothe him. But to be in this situation in public was completely unchartered territory, and though you knew everyone there had to be aware of your relationship and situation, it still made you uncomfortable to be having an argument out in the open. At the first opportunity you have you excuse yourself, claiming another headache and shaking your head at Dr Nick’s offers of painkillers you head off to the bedroom. 

Elvis comes barging in an hour or so later, and you flinch at the bang of the door against the wall, already bracing yourself to be accused of sulking or some other continuation of the argument but you remain where you lay in bed, on your side facing away from the doorway and try to concentrate on the words on the page of his book again. He sighs, and just as loudly as he’d opened it he slams the door closed. He makes his way over to you, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking over at you.  

“My little bunny isn’t mad at me is she?” His tone is almost contrite, and you immediately roll yourself over to look at him. He’s got a boyish look on his face and you can feel yourself starting to melt, but you’re not entirely ready to forgive him yet.  

“I’m not mad at you Elvis.” He frowns, titling his head like a confused golden retriever. He lets his head flop into his shoulder as he peers at you.  

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it.” You hum back at him, trying hard not to be swayed by his expressive blue eyes. He clambers up onto the bed, to cuddle into the side of you, running a finger down your arm, “Oh you can’t be mad at me, bunny can’t be mad at him - not when he yuvs her so so much,” He curls his arm around you to tug you closer to him, and you struggle not to smile as he continues baby-talking you, “not his bitty bunny,” He presses a kiss into your arm, shifting himself to place several leading up the back of your neck, and then leaning over to press them against your shoulder, he murmurs against your skin, “she wouldn’t ever be mad at him, his bitty, baby, bunny who he yuvs…” Your heart clenches. You know he’s manipulating you, and you’re still embarrassed, but he sounds so sincere. Even if he’s only saying it so he doesn’t have to outright apologise Elvis suggesting he loves you in any way is enough to make you forgive him.  

“I’m not mad at you, I promise.” You roll around to look at him, staring into his eyes, “I swear Elvis - I’m not. I’m sorry for trying to control the situation.”  

“Nah, nah you were just, you were just tryin’ to take care of me - I see that, let me, let me make it up to you baby,” His fingers glide over your stomach and sides, toying with the waistband of the corduroy trousers you were wearing. He looks deep into your eyes, searching for something, and he smiles a moment later, “C’mon bunny, lemme make you feel good. Let hims make it up to hers.” His fingers wriggle under the waistband while the other pops the buttons and you lift your hips to allow him to take them off.   

He presses his lips to yours, ever so briefly, and you try to chase him even as he pulls away, his palm holding you down while he moves his mouth down your neck. He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone, and you shift in his grip, rubbing your thighs together as he laps at the little maroon mark. He sits up, settling himself between your legs but keeps his hand on your stomach, its wide span pinning you against the bed. No rings this time to dig into your skin, just the intimate feel of his fingers flexing against your abdomen. He brings his other to pat your legs apart. You flop onto your back, unable to stay in a crunch staring at him, the look on his face as he stares at your pussy too much to take.  

You’ve been tense waiting for him, and though you feel yourself automatically relax into his thick hands you still worry momentarily that it’s going to be hard to get you to finish. You don’t want to disappoint him, and you open your mouth to tell him as much when his rough tongue laps at your soft folds, twirling around your clit. His tongue has lost none of its finesse, and he has no difficulty, with the help of two of his fingers to bring you to the brink within a few minutes.  He laps against you, sideburns tickling your inner thighs, for what feels like forever and you’re struggling to keep your legs open and not wrap your thighs around his head, contenting yourself with tangling your fingers into his hair, holding him into place with the little strength you could muster. He’s not quiet when he does this - Elvis never is, uttering his own pleased little hums that seem to harmonise with your own, much louder moans and curses, the vibrations rebounding around your core. It’s not long before he sits up, mouth glistening - clearly ever so pleased with himself while you pant away the white spots behind your eyes.  

“There’s a good girl now.” He pats at you, “C’mon back out now - ‘s no good sulking in here.” And though you never were sulking you find yourself tiredly nodding at his instruction, more than willing to do whatever he asks of you, boneless and biddable.  

——————————— 

It’s strange when you get back home - It felt like you’d been away for months, wrapped up in your little Elvis vacation bubble, and yet it had scarcely been two weeks. It’s absurd that it’s such a struggle to adjust again. You’d let yourself get so close during the trip that it was painful to have to force yourself to watch and listen as he calls Ginger before you take off on the way home, or to be totally ignored as they all clamber out of the plane when you hit the ground in Tennessee. The trouble with Elvis, you thought to yourself as you finally sunk back into your own bed, was that he was everything. More than everything - everything revolved around him, like planets orbiting the sun and it felt near impossible to escape his gravitational pull. You knew your mother would say, “Baby, finish on a high; keep the memories.”  The issue with that is that now you’ve had a little you want more. There’s no way in hell you can quit now. Not before you’ve had just a little taste more, just one more fumble, one more heated look from him, one more whispered I love you into your neck. But you have no idea if the desire is reciprocal; it’s hard not to read too much into it when your presence is conspicuously absent in March. You didn’t even know they were going to Hawaii, or that they had gone until Georgia told you about it while mentioning their rushed return home. Did he think you’d have a problem flying him and Ginger somewhere? Or did he think you wouldn’t be able to be discrete; a laughable idea since you’d been proving yourself in that department for the past three years. Elvis doesn’t mention it to you, so you keep quiet too, and almost immediately after regular service seems to resume.  

You weren’t pleased for long, when it became clear that while he hadn’t looked much worse for wear after the apparent ordeal in Hawaii, and his voice sounded as good as before - none of this was to last. The monotony of the road, the easy habits of most of a decade immediately flooding back to him.  

Despite having spent as much, if not more, time with him than a girlfriend would have done in the past three or four years, the long days and nights spent together you can feel him drifting. You had been there when other girls were there, there when they weren’t - watched over him awake and asleep. But you weren’t. You weren’t his girl, you were, at your core, essentially an addition to his jet. An amenity. So, when you get the call that a couple of tour dates were cancelled and that your services weren’t needed, before an almost immediate redaction and urgent request for your services, to get him ostensibly home, and in reality, quickly to the comfort of a hospital. You were at once concerned - you weren’t allowed to be worried, that was for family and friends - for Ginger and Vernon to pace back and forth in a waiting room. Your job was to remain calm. Professional and calm, even if you knew that had he been more conscious he’d have demanded your presence. He’d said as much after Linda had left - that you were his first choice. Maybe not just an amenity after all. That you would have been the one with his head in your lap, dabbing at his forehead - rather than Ginger’s hesitant pats to his arm. But it’s not you, and you have to simply take a deep breath, hoping that you’d at least get an update. 

There were, by May, so many signs that things are going wrong, even to your untrained eye. Maybe because you saw him less and less, the flights short between tour stops, the requests to see you at the hotels suddenly lacking, that it doesn’t feel like a gradual change in the way the men describe it to be. The paranoia, the fear, and the sheer absurdity of his behaviour all seem to hit you all the more because you were able to directly compare to when he was doing alright, to how, mere weeks ago, you’d been having a grand time in Vail together.  

The guns. The guns had become a symbol of his sheer level of turbulence. He’d threatened you before, at a time where it had seemed so out of the blue it was laughable - now, if he’d done the same thing you’d be more worried - he wasn’t as careful as he had always been. You weren’t a pilot, you didn’t have the same responsibilities, but even so the guns at Binghampton had almost cost you your job and would have certainly cost you your reputation had it all gone south. Had Elvis not somehow, despite his state, been able to effectively charm the officer in charge into forgetting his apparent oversight; although how, considering the guns had tumbled out right in front of them, was anyone’s guess. The ramifications were awful though, you and Ron and Elwood stressed about the ‘cargo’ on the plane, while Elvis shouted to anyone who would listen that he could do what he goddamn liked, waving his narcotics badge at anyone who tried to tactfully protest. You hated it.   

It’s a long flight, at the end of a long week. It’s been trying for all involved, although Elvis has spent a lot of the time that you’ve seen him in a half-asleep state, desperately trying to recover from the strains and stresses of the brutal tour schedule he’s been put on again. You’ve corralled him into the bedroom on the Lisa-Marie, it’s a six-hour flight - not nearly long enough for him to recuperate properly, but enough that you actually have a fighting chance for once. He’d been playful and handsy the day before, the way he was sometimes - likely having taken one too many uppers, but you could tell from the lines and bags under his make-up that, though it’s been ages - to try and tease or play with him now would be borderline cruel. Instead, you focus on making him comfortable, tucking him up with you under the soft covers of the large bed, petting him exactly as he likes it. He’s just starting to calm himself down and you continue to murmur to the top of his head when he suddenly starts talking,  

“I don’t, don’t wanna marry-marry her.” His speech is slurring, and you can’t be sure if it’s from sleep, or the effects of the palmful of pills he’d taken an hour ago, or some combination of it all. Oh, so maybe that’s why he’s gone off the rails?  

“You don’t, - you don’t have to El- if you don’t want to,” You murmur back to him, acknowledging internally that he must be both absolutely exhausted and feeling miserable if his immediate response wasn’t to tell you to mind your own goddamn business.  

“I’ve gotta take care of it - get the boys to take care of it…. Daddy'll do it for me. He should.” He nods to himself, but his eyes stay closed.  

“Elvis, sweetheart,” You whisper to him, “you can’t make your daddy do that for you, you’ve… gotta do it yourself.” You pat his back, and he burrows his head further into your lap, your fingers finding their way into his scalp, curling around and into the hairs at the nape of his neck as you gently stroke his head and back. “She’s, she’s a reasonable girl - I’m sure she’ll understand-”  

“That’s…” There’s a long enough pause as his breathing evens out that you’re fairly sure he’s asleep, but then he mumbles back, “’S not her ‘m worried about…’s her, her folks.”  

You try desperately to reassure him, muttering about how no-one could judge him for making a sensible decision, and better to cool it off now than later, but it’s too late, and the only response you get back is the sound of him snuffling in his sleep, his eyelids and forehead relaxing as he curls his legs into you, snuggling against your warm heat, tucked against the thick gold comforter.  

You try to relax yourself, but your mind is whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute; all too many of which were imagining poor Vernon being gifted with the unfortunate task of breaking up with his son’s girlfriend.  

You feel sorry for him, you never believe when the husbands of your friends make jokes about how they’ve been ‘trapped’ - it’s a man’s world, and it seems absurd to suggest that someone’s womanly wiles were solely the root of their relationship crisis and yet, his description of his relationship is starting to sound less like young fun and more like a calculated entrapment. For perhaps not the first time in his life. You sigh again, and jump when Elvis pats your arm,  

“Shhh, s’ok, s’ok baby, I got you,” He’s fast asleep, eyes twitching being their lids — but still, his hands swipe over your side as he clumsily pats at you, shushing you while he does. The notion makes your eyes fill with tears, how could he still be so utterly sweet and dependent? 

The next morning he made no reference to the night before, or his whispered confession and you dressed and continued on as normal. Your mind though kept floating back to the words Billy had said to you back in early February. Should you attempt to make a move? Or at least, make sure Elvis knew you were totally available? Before you have the chance to act on any of these impulses though there’s a rumour spreading across the group - that Elvis wasn’t coping, that he needed a break, that the tour was going to have to be cancelled. You’d pushed it out of your head, hopeful he’d just need a decent rest that would be enough to rejuvenate him to get through the tour. But tragically, the rumour had turned out to be true and you’d delivered him home to Memphis amidst cancelled shows and runs to the hospital. He’d looked terrible when you’d left him, looking back at you at the top of the plane steps. You want to turn up, check he’s ok, check that he’s sure about Ginger, that if he’s not going to end things then that she knows how to take care of him. That she’s doing the best she can.  

It had been radio silence since that last flight and perhaps you should be assuming that no news is good news, but you find yourself thinking about him most days. Worrying and waiting. You wonder if he would let you in if you went to Graceland to see him, or if that was altogether too presumptuous, hell you’d heard all about how he hated girls that were too forward. But he loved to be taken care of - you supposed it all came down to control, and though you were desperate that he be well looked after, and you wished you could supervise that yourself, you were otherwise happy to let him take the lead – it was just altogether too scary to do anything else.  

——————————— 

Finally, in the middle of the third week of July you get a call reminding you of the upcoming tour, and then, almost immediately after you agree, an unusual call from Elvis himself. The phone ringing insistently less than 5 minutes after you’d agreed to the tour details.  

“How’re you doing baby?” He’s talking in that slow drawl he does when he’s sleepy, worn out from the day - from rehearsals maybe, or just life in general. “My bitty baby doin’ ok, huh?” 

“I’m just fine,” You’re impossibly hungry for details, but reluctant to sound too eager, 

“My yittle bun-bun lookin’ after herself?” You’d basically already told him this, but the wording makes you blush, and you don’t mind repeating yourself for him, “Of course. I’m ‘cited to see you.”  

“That’s good, well, that’s reeeall good honey, because, uh, you see,” His voice takes on the explanatory tone he so enjoys, both didactic and gossiping, “I don’t know if you’ve heard… or I suppose you wouldn’t have yet, but uh, Ginger’s not, she’s not coming on this tour with me, we’re, uh, we’re well…” He trails off, and there’s little breathy noises down the phone to you, which lets you picture the way he would have just taken off his glasses, rubbing his fingers along the bridge of his nose.  

“Oh,” What else is there to say? ‘Oh Elvis, I’m glad you’ve ditched your fiancee?’ Hardly.  

“She was just, just a lil too young, jus’ a baby, not, she just - it wouldn’t be right to make her settle down with me right now. Not, not when I don’t know if she really…well you know.” You don’t know what to say, and Elvis waits only for a brief second before filling the silence himself,  

“The thing is - I wasn’t sure, I don’t know if you’d heard, I’ve uh, I’ve been, well, I’ve been real sick to tell you the truth. Weren’t sure I were gonna make it out to this tour and we thought for sure we were gonna have to cancel but well, here we are.”  

“You’re not… you’re feeling better?”  

“Yes ma’am.” At least that sounds confident, “Got myself a new doctor, and ‘m, uh, on some new, uh, treatments and uh stuff.” He pauses, “Playin’ a lot of racquetball.”   He sounds slightly sheepish, and while you’re endlessly curious you don’t press the point.  

“Were you just ringing to confirm I’d be around?”  

“Well, here’s the thing, the thing is, honey, the thing is - I know you’ve already had a call, but you see, I was sorta hoping maybe you’d be happy to cancel them plans?”  

“Oh. You don’t want me on the plane?” There’s a moment of silence before he swears to himself, muttering down the phone that he’d learn to have some balls one of these days.  

“No, No, you misunnerstand - I want you on the plane, and off the plane - I just want you to come with me.”  

“Oh.”  

“If you can’t, well, I understand.” He sounds resigned, and your heart breaks a little, “But, I want company baby, and I want yours.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, breathless in your excited agreement, 

“I want yours too! I’ve been - Billy said, well I’ve been hopin’ for months El, I miss you so much when we’re at home, and oh, I’d love to.” Somehow you can hear him shaking his head through the phone,  

“That meddlin’ shit.” You giggle back at him, and he laughs in response before he keeps talking, “So - pack your bags, honey, and I’ll send a car to get you at the usual time?”  

“So, am I - like working?” He huffs at you, 

“No - no, not workin’ for me no more - just being there for me. Want you to be my girl baby - be good just for me - not chasing down the other guys to make ‘em drinks.” You shake your head, brain skipping over the important part of the statement to the last part for a moment.  

“I don’t believe I’ve ever ‘chased’ the other guys,” He huffs down the phone,  

“Well lemme tell you they’ve been chasin’ you, wolves chasin’ their lil bunny,”  

“Hmm, there’s only one wolf I want to eat me though Elvis.”  

“S’that right?” 

“That’s right.”  

“Well then, I’ll have it all ready for you, s’probably easier, y’know this late notice and all,” You read between the lines that Ginger’s still at Graceland, “that I’ll uh, you’ll be waitin’ for me on the Lisa-Marie?” You cringe, but he does sound more like himself than he has in weeks, and hopefully - unlike with Linda and Ginger he’ll keep to his promise and actually get rid of her before you get on board.  

“Mmhmm, that should be fine.” You hear him move away from the phone for a second, talking to someone else for a moment,  

“Right, honey, I’ve - I’ve, I’m bein’ told I’ve gotta go now - got a meeting in a minute, but don’t be afraid to call - anytime, you’re to be put straight through to me, y’hear?”  

“Yep, Elvis, I hear,”  

“Alright then, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then - you take care of yourself baby,”  

“You too El,” You’re about to say something stupid, like I love you, but with one last,  

“Ok - buh-bye.” The line’s gone dead.  

——————————— 

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i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last three chapters -

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