#Hank you’re a bad man but I love you

[zeudofunk]

I want to kiss the whole damn cast

[cloveroctobers]

This episode was better than last but it’s still fuck Ezekiel Lorenzo Reyes atp AND time!

[imaginedisish]

My Love All Mine (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Not a request. Just a VERY slutty thot I had last night. Inspired by "My Love All Mine" by Mitski. Genuinely, this is one of the filthiest things I've ever written. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan told you to stay in his bed so he could have you when he got home from a mission, but he finds you in the kitchen instead...and he isn’t happy.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit sexual content! MINORS DNI!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Porn without plot (literally), multiple orgasms, (uh...they're in the kitchen? kitchen warning?), overstimulation, softdom!Logan, established relationship, f!reader/afab!reader, Logan is one starving and reckless man, disrespecting Scott, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 2,288 told y'all there's no plot

It’s late—the moon high in the sky. But you can’t sleep—not without Logan next to you. You know he’ll be back soon—he was only sent on a quick diplomatic day mission with Hank. Charles said Logan needed to control his anger, to learn from the best, and he was right. The trip would certainly do him some good. But it was still brutal, waiting in bed for him, alone. 

You had thrown one of his shirts on a few minutes ago, refusing to wear anything of your own save for your panties. You wanted to smell him—to find a way to keep him close even while he’s gone. And sure enough, the shirt was all tobacco and pine and musk and Logan. 

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need him. 

Too bad you’ll have to wait. He asked you to stay in his bed. Wanna fuck you right when I get home, pretty girl. You were happy to oblige earlier, but it’s getting late, and you’re getting bored—impatient. You swing your legs around the side of Logan’s bed and stand, heading out the bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen. 

A snack could help. A snack could distract you.

The kitchen is dark, and everyone is fast asleep. You rummage through the cabinets, hoping no one can hear you. You find a package of store-bought cookies with a sticky note that has Scott’s name written on it. After considering—albeit very briefly—you tear Scott’s little note off and toss it to the side. You rip open the package. He won’t care if you have a cookie. It’s just one, after all. You grab one, bringing it to your lips—

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” You jump, dropping the cookie on the counter at the sound of the familiar voice. You look across the dimly lit kitchen to see Logan standing in the doorway. 

“Lo?” You whisper. 

He hums, approaching you slowly, sizing you up. He’s towering over you, caging you in, hands firmly gripping the counter on either side of your waist. “Is this my shirt?” He asks, his hand dropping to brush your thighs, pinching the hem of the tee between his pointer finger and thumb. 

“Didn’t know when you’d get back…” You trail off, heat rising to your chest. You can feel that all too familiar ache building between your thighs. “M-missed you.” Logan smirks, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you. “Missed you too, pretty girl.” He hikes the shirt up and around your waist, revealing your panties. “No shorts, huh?” 

“N-no,” you pant, suddenly nervous. “Lo, someone might see, someone could—"

“Let them,” he husks, pressing his chest to yours. “No bra either, hm?” He lets the shirt fall as his fingertips slip underneath and trail up to your breasts. He squeezes your tits, messaging them gently, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your nipples. 

“Logan,” you whine, struggling to suppress your moans. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Let them know whose girl you are.” That heat between your legs is burning now, flames lighting your every nerve ending on fire. 

“Yours,” you whisper. Logan pinches your nipples, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. 

He hums. “All fucking mine.” And then he’s grabbing your ass and hoisting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as your bare thighs meet the cold granite countertop. Logan bites your lower lip teasingly, his kisses becoming rushed and frantic. He squeezes your tits once more before he slides down your body to the floor below. 

He settles between your legs, one hand on your hip while the other teases your all too-clothed cunt. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, this thumb brushing over your folds. “Fucking soaked, princess,” he grunts, pleased. “All this for me?

“Y-yes,” you choke. “All for you.”

He chuckles against you, his laughter vibrating through your core. “Could smell you when I walked in. Can’t wait to taste you.” You shudder at his words, at the way they make you feel—your heart fluttering in your chest, ready to burst. 

Logan hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and yanks them down, throwing them to the side. He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands. “Logan,” you whisper. “What if someone sees?”

He answers with a long stripe through your folds up to your clit. “I said I was gonna fuck you when I got home,” he mumbles against you, licking another long stripe. “And you weren’t in my bed, so this’ll have to do.”

His lips wrap around your clit, pulling the bud into his mouth and sucking roughly. You squirm, involuntarily moving your hips away from Logan at the sudden pleasure. Logan smiles against you, wrapping a hand around your back to hold you in place, to give himself more leverage to bury his face deep into your cunt.

“You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you, pretty girl,” he growls. His tongue swirls around your clit as his free hand teasingly climbs up your inner thigh. His fingers find your folds, stroking gently, spreading your slick. And then two of his fingers are sinking inside you, deep, down to the knuckles. 

Your walls flutter around him. Logan slides out and pushes back in deeper, lapping hungrily at your clit. “Tastes so fucking good, princess,” he praises. “Pretty little pussy, so tight.”

You curse under your breath as his thrusts pick up, fingers slamming into you, hitting that sweet spot with every pump. “Lo,” you pant, needy and helpless. 

His teeth graze your clit, and you moan, louder than before. You bite your lip, doing your all to hold yourself back. “That feel good, sweetheart?” He does it again, grazing harder this time, taking the bud into his mouth and biting softly. You try to stifle your moan, but it chokes its way out. 

“No holding back,” he chides, sucking your clit in between sentences. “Let them know who’s making you feel this good. Want everyone to know who you belong to.”

“Logan,” you hum, his fingers dragging against your walls, scissoring inside you. You’re already so close, clenching and contracting around him. “I-I…” but you can’t get the sentence out, can’t even make a coherent thought. 

“Use your words, pretty girl,” Logan demands, relentlessly lapping at your clit, pumping in and out fast and hard. “What do you need?” 

“Y-you…” you murmur. “I’m s-so close,” you finally spit out.

Logan tugs you closer, forcing himself deeper as he draws soft circles into your back. “Gonna get you there, princess,” he husks, his tongue flicking your clit. “Wanna feel you come on my fingers, wanna taste it.”

“F-fuck, Logan,” you stutter. He’s plunging deeper still, slipping in a third finger. And that’s when you feel it. The tension snaps. Heat rolls through you, spilling out of you. He’s still sucking on your clit, savoring the taste of you as you let go for him. 

You’re a trembling mess, thighs shaking as you ride out your orgasm. “That’s it, I’ve got you,” he soothes in between laps. His pumps slow as you come down from your high. His thumb strokes your back comfortingly. He pulls his fingers from you, but his face is still buried inside your cunt, his tongue lapping ravenously. 

He’s a man starved, showing no signs of stopping. You reach out, running your hands through his hair, dragging your nails across his scalp. He grunts against you, the bass of his voice going straight to your core. “Logan,” you whisper. His teeth nip at your clit, and you jolt, still overstimulated from your first orgasm. But he isn’t taking the hint. “Logan,” you call again. He still doesn’t move. 

“I said you weren’t going anywhere,” he pauses, licking a long, slow stripe through your folds, looking up at you under lust-filled eyes. “Until I’m finished.” His fingers are prodding at your entrance again. “And darlin’,” he grunts, sliding three fingers back inside. “I’m not finished yet.”

He’s pumping with more vigor now, more force. It’s already too much; already more than you can take. His tongue circles your clit, the pressure rocking you to your core. You’re a whimpering mess as he thrusts into you, moaning his name, praying to him like he’s a god. 

“Lo,” you mumble. “I’m a-already…” You throw your head back, fucked out beyond belief. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he coos between flits, his fingers slamming into you. “You gonna give me another one? You gonna let me taste your come again?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking roughly. 

“Good girl,” he mutters against you, your walls contracting around him at his praise. He can feel you squeezing him; he knows full well what he’s doing to you, and just how close you are. He smirks against your cunt. “Such a good fucking girl for me.”

And with one more thrust, you’re coming undone around him. It’s more forceful this time, sudden and uncontrolled. You know Logan likes you like this, quivering underneath him; because of him. 

He’s slowing down again, his fingers setting a lazy, dragging pace until they stall inside you. Your eyes flutter shut as he slides out. His tongue laps once more before he pulls away from you. 

You open your eyes, leaning back on your forearms, watching as Logan stands. He brings his fingers to his open mouth and stuffs them inside, sucking, savoring the taste of you, and then pulling them out with a pop. Your walls flutter around nothing at the sight.

“You taste so fucking good, pretty girl,” he huffs. He grabs your hips, yanking them just over the counter. He steps in between your legs, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the kitchen floor. He’s unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down his zipper, shoving the denim down his legs along with his boxers.

You sit up, reaching out towards him, but Logan pushes you down against the counter. He pins your hands above your head with one hand, while his other guides his cock to your entrance. “You gonna let me fuck you into this counter, sweetheart?” He hovers over you, his eyes tracking your every move.

“Y-yes,” you whine. “N-need you, Lo.” 

And then he’s slamming into you, down to the hilt. He’s filling you up and splitting you open with a single thrust. You’ll never get used to just how big he is, no matter how many times he fucks you. 

“Fuck,” he growls, swallowing your moans with a kiss. “Feels so good, so tight, pretty girl.” He pulls out and plunges back in, deeper this time. “Thought about you all day, beautiful.”

“Th-thought about you too, Lo,” you whine as he builds his pace. His hand leaves his cock and finds your clit, stroking the bud gently with his thumb. You arch your back at the touch, your chest pressing against his. 

“Needed this fucking pussy,” he grunts, his hips snapping into yours. “Need you. Always need you.” His words alone could send you over the edge. His thumb circles around your core, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls. 

He’s hovering over you, still pinning your wrists down to the counter, offering him stability and balance. He pounds into you, hitting that sweet spot with every pump. You know you can’t last much longer, not with Logan’s lips at your ear, whispering sweet praises. So fucking good. Feels perfect, always so perfect. He’s right. He fits inside you like you were made for each other, like it was always meant to be this way. 

Your walls squeeze him tightly, threatening to let go, to come crashing down around him. He ruts into you, hips rocking against yours. He adds more pressure to your clit, his thumb stroking faster, harder. “Lo,” you call out. “C-close again,” you stammer. 

“Can feel you, beautiful,” he coos. “Gonna take care of you, don’t worry.” You can feel his pace faltering, growing sloppier. He’s close, too—not far behind. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, pretty girl. Know you can do it.”

“F-fuck,” you stammer as he flicks your clit, circling roughly. He’s throbbing as he slams into you, hit after hit. “Logan,” you whine. “I’m gonna—” 

It happens all at once. You’re crashing, pleasure raging through your body. It tears through you, burning, spreading. Logan is right behind, filling you up, coming deep inside as you clench down around him. He releases your hands from his pin and shifts so that he’s pulling you into his chest as you finish. You’re sitting up, slumping against him, still riding out your orgasm. 

He pumps in and out a few more times until he’s still inside you. He strokes your clit gently, soothingly, letting you down easy from your peak. He pulls out, his arms wrapping around your back and tugging you closer. He holds you tightly, limp in his arms.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple. “Missed you,” he whispers, all soft now. His cocky attitude is gone—his needs satiated. Now he’s all gentle kisses and soothing rubs up and down your back. 

“Missed you more,” you answer, smiling as you look up at him. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t think that’s possible, sweetheart.” His fingers trace shapes into your back. “And princess?” He mumbles. You nod against him. “Don’t think I’m finished with you just yet.”

Your heart thumps in your chest. 

“Never gonna be finished with you.”

tags: @figsnpassionfruits @slaymewithaspoon @hunbomb @lanassmarty @zxaera @silversprings-mp3 @velvrei

[darnell-la]

how about dark!logan and ex-girlfriend human reader. They broke up bcs she thought he was cheating on her, but turns out it was just misunderstanding and now dark!logan gets jealous that she already moved on from her

note: this story was an emotional roller coaster, but that’s how we like it. we love a bit of chaos and overreaction.

in this story, Logan is pretty emotional whether that’s him being sad at first or turning into a wild animal once he gets y/n back. of course, his jealousy is mentioned when he FUCKS y/n. he HATED how close she was to a man while he was being ignored.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“We’re done, Logan, and that’s that,” Y/n said before she walked away from the man. “Y/n! — Hey!” The man stalked after her, confused about where this attitude came from.

“You’re not going to just break up with me, and walk away without an explanation!” The man said as he sped in front of her to stop her in her tracks.

“You get no explanation, just like I didn’t. I’ve been confused, hurt, upset, and left for months! You can deal with it for the rest of your life,”

That was the last time y/n had talked to Logan. The young woman packed her stuff at night so she wouldn’t cause a scene, and left.

Y/n feels off about being here again. It’s been a year, and she hasn’t quite talked to anyone since then. Of course, Charles would speak to her through her thoughts, but at times, she shut him out.

Hank, Storm, and Jean try to invite her to parties or get-togethers, thinking she’d maybe come one day, but she never does. She was in a whole new state in those times.

Scott on the other hand messaged her every day he could. Apart from her thoughts he only wanted to get close to her, to get at Logan from past jealousy, but in actuality, he genuinely liked her company.

The man texted her every day, even called and somehow, she’d answer him. Scott felt special that out of everyone, she’d answer him.

Logan was the only one in the group that had no contact with y/n. She had blocked the man anytime a new number or social media account popped up. He was desperate, and she hated it. She hated him.

“Charles said you were coming. Didn’t believe it until now,” Scott said as he walked out of the mansion, instantly picking y/n up into a hug. “Did you get stronger?” Y/n laughed after the man placed her down. “You can say that,”

“Y/n!?” Storm shouted before her, Hank and Jean ran over to her, giving her a group hug. For a second, she felt bad for leaving them all behind, but after Logan, she had to go somewhere. She couldn’t stay around anymore.

“How long are you staying?” Hank asked as he grabbed her bags, as well as Scott's. “Maybe a night or two,” she replied making them all sigh. “Seriously!? You can’t leave us like that. Not again,” Jean spoke.

Y/n didn’t hate Jean, but when she looked at the woman, she felt pain. It wasn’t her fault that Logan couldn’t put aside his feelings.

“Maybe I’ll stay long,” Y/n said before walking into the mansion. Storm and Jean drifted off to finish whatever they were doing while Hank and Scott took her to her room. Her old room that she hadn’t really slept in since she used to be with Logan all the time.

“Logan will be here. He went out to get wood,” Hank said before he left. “You okay with being back? You never really told us why you did,” Scott spoke after y/n sat down on her bed.

“Oh, just some personal things going on. That’s it,” she said. “Heard you haven’t talked to Logan. Was he the reason why you left?” He asked as he sat next to the young lady. He knew it was, but didn’t know why.

“I don’t really feel like talking about it or him. I kinda don’t even wanna see him,” y/n said, making Scott chuckle. “I feel you on that, but Logan’s crushed. I hate the man, but I also hate to see a teammate distracted,”

Scott got up and walked towards her room door, ready to get back to what he was doing. “Think about it, because my motorcycle just pulled up,” Scott said before leaving.

Y/n sighed, knowing Logan was going to make his way straight up here. She didn’t know how he’d react. She didn’t know how she’d react. What will she possibly do or say?

Y/n said in silence for only a couple of minutes before her door opened. He had pushed it open, not believing she was here until he saw her.

“Y/n,” he said before rushing over to her. The man dropped to his knees and hugged the girl tightly. His face hurried into her stomach as tears streamed down his face. She was really here.

“Logan,” y/n softly pushed at his shoulders, but he wouldn’t let go. He didn’t want to. It’s been a year, and he’s traveled to so many places, hoping to find her, but she was never there.

“Lo,” she spoke again, and this time, he pulled away. His hands rose to her face and cupped both of her cheeks. “I-It’s been so long,” the man looked into her eyes, making her feel like shit.

The man who couldn’t give her any attention gave it to her a year later. How dare he make her feel like this?

“Yeah — It has,” she softly pulled his hands away from his wrist. The man’s face changed from, I’m so happy you’re finally here, too, what’s going on? She’s never been this way towards him until that night. The last night he saw her.

“I’m kinda tired, so, yeah,” she spoke, wanting him away from her and out of her sight. “D-Don’t go to sleep without me, lemme get a shower in then I’ll-“ he stood up and walked towards the door, but the woman cut him off. “No,” she said with a stern voice.

“I like being alone,” she added. The man looked back at her, confused about why his girlfriend was acting this way. “Baby, what’s up with you? I-I thought that maybe since you came back, fixed whatever was going on with you,” Logan said in a soft voice.

“Whatever what going on with me!? God, Logan — Please, the fuck out,” y/n rolled her eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t mean it like-“ he tried explaining himself. “I said get the fuck out!” She yelled at the man.

Logan’s body jumped slightly, shocked at the way she was being. He didn’t know what was wrong, and she refused to tell him. It’s been a year, and she still hasn’t told him.

Logan opened his mouth, but the girl turned around and tucked herself under her covers. She was done seeing him for tonight. For the rest of the time she planned to stay here.

“Been a while since you’ve partied with us. Kinda missed that,” Scott said after he took a shot with y/n. “Yeah — I kind of missed it too,” she admitted with a smile. “Wanna dance?” The man asked in a friendly way, and she accepted.

The two went on the dance floor, dancing wide by wide for a while until he grabbed her hips. They both laughed with each other, having the most fun she’s had in a year.

“God, I’ve missed you, y/n. Texting and calling ain’t enough, you know? Maybe you should come visit me or I’ll come visit you,” he suggested. “I’ll think about it,” she smiled.

As Scott and y/n hugged it out on the floor, Logan couldn’t help but stop it. The man pushed off of the tree he was leaning back on in the distance and sped over to the two.

The man was close, about to ruin whatever the fuck they had going on, but y/n pulled away and said something to the man before she left.

Logan stopped in his tracks and watched her walk off to the side of the party. She got on her phone and began texting.

“Might stay with family for another night. I’ll be back to work soon,”

“So — How’s your night going?” Logan asked, making y/n turn around as she placed her phone in her pocket. Looking at the man in front of him felt different. When she first got here, the man looked warm out.

He had grown the beard but didn’t take care of it, his face looked dirty like he hadn’t washed it, his eyes were baggy, and she swore his body looked less fit, but not too much. Only she’d notice it…

“Can you not just fuck off? For once, Logan! Fuck!” Y/n shouted at the man who came up to her with two cups. He noticed she’d been drinking for the past few days, and even though he hated it when she did, he still brought one of the lighter drinks to maybe get close to her.

“But why? You won’t talk to me. You won’t even look at me. I-I don’t understand, y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as he walked after y/n through the woods. “I’m goin’ to bed. Gotta leave early tomorrow,” the woman had instantly changed her mind about staying.

“W-What!?” Logan basically screamed. She hadn’t even been here for a week. She hadn’t spoken to him unless she yelled at him. She was going to leave him. Again.

“Y/n, stop it!” The man shouted as he threw the two cups to the ground and ran in front of her to stop her in her tracks. Last time, that didn’t stop her from leaving, but he’ll make sure it does this time.

“Logan — Get the fuck out of my way,” she said as she moved to the side, but before she could go any further, he grabbed her arm tightly. The man slowly grew angry, but still had all that sad emotion running through his heart.

“N-No — I-I’m not gonna let you talk to Storm, talk to Jean, talk to Hank a-and dance on Scott and leave without talking to me!” The man’s eyes teared up again.

“Well, I don’t wanna talk to you, so,” y/n went to pull away, but he tightened his grip. She was human, and he knew that grip would hurt, but he couldn’t let her go again. Not without an explanation, and even if she gave a damn good one, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight again.

“Logan, ow!” She shouted at the man, now slapping his arm. “Stop it — Stop it, y/n!” He yelled in her face, letting a deep growl escape his mouth.

“Y-You’re not leaving! — I-I’m not letting you go again, so, like— So what if you hate me now? So what i-if you don’t wanna date me anymore? Y-You don’t have to leave though,”

“Logan-“ y/n tried saying. “No! You’re not gonna fuckin’ talk to Scott, and not me!” The man finally let her arm go with a push. The look on his face made sure she knew he was angry, but all she could do was roll her eyes.

“You’re a dick, you know? All you care about is me talking to Scott, but nothing else. What about what you did, huh? What about what you did!” Y/n grew angry. “You won’t tell me what I did!” Logan shouted.

“Because you should already know! Why do I have to tell my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend that giving another woman more attention than me, is a problem!? Why!? That’s not my place to if you’re a real man, and clearly — You’re not!”

Y/n nudged Logan’s shoulder as she walked by, but instantly got grabbed and pushed against a tree. The man held her upper arm, not letting her go anywhere.

“What the fuck are you talking about, babe? Ian never gives no other woman my attention. Not one! I-I’ve only thought about you for the past year!”

“Oh, is that true? Then why before I finally dumped your ass, Hank blabbered to me that you and Jean, your ex-kissing toy, by the way, were going on a secret mission?” Y/n finally asked.

“Oh, oh- And tell me why he also said that you choose to go on mission with her, instead of me. Tell me that! Tell me why you can’t tell me that you’re going on missions with your ex!” Y/n yelled in the man’s face with no tears in her eyes. Just full of anger.

“Baby, I — Baby, Hank wasn’t supposed to tell you-“ Logan went to say, but y/n cut him off with a wild scream as she shook her whole body. She was furious and wanted him out of her face.

“Of course, he wasn’t, you dumb bitch! Because you’re a cheating son of a bitch! A fuckin’ dumb, damn good-looking, manipulative cheater!”

“Baby, no, no- That’s not what I am. You never even asked me what was going on, you just-“ he got cut off again. “I left! I fucking left because I have no business being with a manwhore who can’t keep his dick in his beer-printed dollar tree boxers!”

Logan softly pulled y/n off of the tree and slamming her back to shut her up. “God, y/n, what the fuck — You-You can’t even let me get a sentence out without disrespecting or interrupting me,” he said. “I thought you loved those boxers,”

Y/n chuckled to herself as a tear finally slipped from her eye. “I did — That was before you decided to throw that all away,” the way she looked at him with no type of love in her eyes, broke his heart. And she had her story all wrong.

“If I wasn’t enough, why couldn’t you just tell me? Let me go and let me live my life instead of thinking someone actually loved me. Y-You say you’re not like any human I’ve dated, but you’re are. You’re like them all,”

“Hey!” Logan’s hands gripped around y/n’s neck, upset at her words. “Don’t fuckin’ disrespect me like that — Especially since you got your story all flipped and fucked up,” the man still had cracks in his voice. He was left for a year, all because of caring for y/n.

“I wasn’t fucking cheating on you. Those secret missions were days I’d leave with Jean and Storm which I bet he forgot to mention because he didn’t know you’d react like that — to go find me and you a new home to live in,”

“For months I’ve been trying to find a nice house away from people because I know how much you like being alone. I just needed woman’s help because I suck when it comes to that shit,”

Y/n’s heart rate began to slow down, and her eyes softened at his side of the story. She couldn’t think about what she’d done and caused, but she knew it was bad when her head felt light.

“As for the picking Jean to go on missions? That was shitty of me, but my excuse is that I didn’t want my girlfriend fighting fights she didn’t have to,”

“What the fuck so I look like having you come fight mutants when you’re not a mutant? Jean is one of the strongest mutants, so I chose her. Storm has to teach the kids, Hank never leaves the lab, and god knows Ian pickin’ Scott,”

“And y/n — You’re a teacher too, so why the fuck would I pull you away from what you love doing just to fight and risk your life? I rather thee others do that, then you, Bub,”

Y/n hasn’t heard that nickname in a year. Bub. She missed and, and he knew how much he missed it when she instantly began crying.

“Hey, hey,” Logan lifted the girl back to her feet after her legs gave out on her. “I’m sorry!” She cried out, fully knowing the situation, and understanding how shitty she is for leaving without asking.

“I-I thought I was helping myself, but I wasn’t! I-I hurt you and the others a-and I’m just a bad person!” She sobbed into his chest.

“Baby, no. Don’t think that way about yourself. I understand how you thought about what you did, baby. Don’t push yourself down for that,” the man pulled her head back and rubbed her tears away.

“Just make it up by staying. All that pain I felt of you ignoring me and being away from my arms are all gone away, you know why? Because you’re here right now. In front of my face looking as beautiful as you were last year,”

“I’m just so sorry, Logan,” Y/n looked down, but the man quickly lifted her chin back up. “Nah uh — we’re not feeling like this anymore. I have a lot to make up for,” the man rubbed the girl's bottom lip, happy that she was finally with him again.

“Gonna look back into those homes, and get ‘em ready for us, baby,” Logan used his free hand to trace down her body until he gripped her waist. “And then you’ll never be able to leave me again. Gonna be just us. No one else,”

Logan's lips finally touched hers, making his heart rate rise. It’s been so long, and his lips are finally back on his girl. His future.

Y/n lazily kissed back, tears still running down her cheek. The girl pulled back a few times to catch her breath, but Logan would instantly reattach their lips. He needed to taste her forever.

“C’mon, stop movin, baby,” Logan hungrily sucked on her lips, even slipping his tongue in her mouth to feel her inner cheeks. “Please, baby,” the man spoke, but y/n couldn’t grow that instant energy. She was still human.

“Baby,” Logan pulled back and looked down at his girlfriend. “Don’t fuckin’ make me wait any longer. I need you, so please fuckin’ stay still,” he demanded before leaning to go back in, but she stopped him by placing her hands on his chest.

“Give me a second, babe — Please,” she looked up at the man, but he couldn’t. “You didn’t give Scott a second,” the man said in a stern voice. “What!? — Baby, I’ve never kissed him,” she assured.

“Well, you were close. Too close, and you know how I feel about him,” Logan’s hands gripped both sides of y/n’s waist, digging his nails into the pretty little dress she wore for the night.

“You were mad at me and went straight to Scott. You fuckin’ knew that would piss me off,” y/n pushed at her taken-back boyfriend, trying to get his grip to loosen, but it never did.

“Yeah, I’ve been sad, baby. So fuckin’ sad, but the only thing I could think about was showing you who the fuck you talked to that night,” the man thought back to the day she left him.

“I heard them talk about being in touch with you — Every day y/n? Really? Textin’ that son of a bitch every day, but can’t shoot me a lil like on my message!?” Logan finally pulled his hands off of y/n’s waist, taking her dress with him.

“Logan!” The girl shouted in shock as she held the breeze on her. “Got me so fuckin’ angry, Bub. I can’t control it. Can’t get out of my head the days you’ve been away from me. The days you text him, and not me,” Logan had sniffed y/n’s neck.

“At least I don’t smell a new man on you. You know what I would’ve done if I did, baby?” The man asked, lips pressed against the girl's neck. “The same shit I’m about to do to you for humping Scott,”

Logan quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled his thick blue jeans down. Y/n opened her mouth to calm the man down, but she didn’t want to. She deserved this. He needed to get his anger out.

Y/n went to jump, but before she did, the man pulled her up himself, quickly pulling her down on his cock until every inch of him was covered.

“L-Lo!” The girl moaned loudly as her feet curled. “Augh, yes!Still fuckin’ tight,” Logan pressed y/n further into the tree as he bucked his hips upward, making sure to bruise her cervix.

The growls he let out on her ear and on her neck, made her heart raise. It was hot, but she was slightly afraid. He was going to break up, but there was nothing she could do about it. She deserved this.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ leave me again. Pretty little sluts like you are in men’s minds all the time. You need me around. Need me to keep you safe and away from them. Even Scott! — If I ever fuckin’ catch you guys eye fuckin’ again — I’ll fuck you in front of him. Make sure he knows how good this pussy’s molded for my cock,”

Logan’s sad emotions were no longer here. The man was full of anger. His girl left him over some stupid-ass miss understanding and then she almost left again after having a sweet ole dance with Scott. Oh — he wasn’t letting this go soon. Not at all.

“I bet when you spoke to him before you left, you told him to come meet you in your room. Such a fuckin’ slut. I knew you had something for that four eyed freak,” Logan’s hips snapped up against y/n’s thighs. She could barely breathe.

“I-I did no such thing,” y/n struggled to get out. “Sure you didn’t. You know you’re a pretty little thing, right? You know you can get whoever you want, and I know you wanted him. I just know it,” Logan’s mind went crazy. The jealousy showed in the man, and he didn’t care.

Logan was nothing like y/n. She left when she thought he cheated, but Logan could never. He’d hold her closer. Lock her up somewhere so she can’t do it again, then kill the guy she cheated on him with. She belonged to him, and him only.

One of Logan’s hands reached up and gripped her neck as he looked into her eyes. His eyes were dark and hers were soft and could barely stay open.

“Ima take you back to your room, and if he knocks and comes in, the sight he’ll see will be buried into his mind just like my cock in that pretty little hole you haven’t let me fuck yet,”

That threat made y/n’s cunt clench. In the back of her mind, she had wished Scott would come to her room for something so Logan could fuck her ass. She was so wet, and that leaked down the crack of her ass, making her feel like she could take him so easily.

“P-Please,” the girl begged, making the man that was fucking her into the tree, chuckle. “Slut likes being fucked in the ass? Bet it’s a virgin ass, and you’re just a dirty little whore,” Logan guessed right.

“So fuckin’ dirty — Came back to ignore me, and now I’m balls deep in your pussy — My pussy — My fuckin’ pussy, baby,” Logan twitched in the grips walls, making her close. She hasn’t felt his seed in months. She needed it.

“S-Such a dirty w-whore, Logan,” y/n admitted in a low and whiny voice. All the crying and hate she had towards the man had faded away. She loved him and never stopped. She just needed a reminder that she could never leave him. Even if she tried, like she did.

“That’s it, baby — My dirty little whore — Fuck,” Logan used a hand to grab the side of her face and pull her into a rough and sloppy kiss. She’s always tasted so damn good.

Both of them moaned in each other's mouths, sweating, breathing heavily, and feeling their climax near. They needed to cum. They needed to few each other cum.

Before they knew it, the woods filled with their moans and groans. The wet sloppy sound of Logan’s cock slipping in and out of her heat could be heard as well.

Anyone who walked by in the distance definitely heard the two, but who cared at this point? All that would do is make Logan feel better because at least then they’d go off and tell people that she really does belong to him.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” the man growled, lips all over hers as he breathed into her mouth. “So fuckin’ full of me, Bub. All filled up and up to date,” the man chuckled with a smile. He missed it. He missed her.

“T-Thank you, baby,” Y/n said low, feeling her vision slowly slip away, but she knew she would be taken care of. She was with Logan again, and he would do anything to make sure she knew she was safe and set for life.

[gerec]

mpreg fics that specifically, Charles is Pietro and Wanda dad with Erik. It's okay if he's the father of Lorna or David too.

but it's strangely hard to find fics where he's one of the dad of the twins.

Hi Anon,

Here are some mpreg fics where Wanda and Pietro are Cherik's bio kids; hope you enjoy!

Terrifying Domesticity by ishipitsobad

Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Runs In The Family by Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan) (First of a series)

Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

I Can Honestly Admit I Never Expected That by swoopswoop

Erik didn't only leave Charles on the beach.

Tell Me the Question Again by emperors_girl

I’m not your Daddy, Erik thinks, but you are very cute.

Love Won't Save You by TurtleTotem

Guarding Charles has been Logan's purpose for over half his life. Now, with the twins to protect, an Empire to fight, and the love of Charles's life turned to the Dark Side, they have only each other to lean on. Can Logan ever be enough?

The Xavier-Lehnsherr Twins by orphan_account (part of a series)

Erik's and Charles's twins are born and David gets some siblings!

The Family Man by orphan_account (part of a series)

Erik lives a very lavish lifestyle that changes one night on Christmas Eve when he disarms a robber at a gas station.

The next morning, Erik wakes up with three kids, and he’s married to his college sweetheart, Charles.

What Not To Expect When You’re Not Expecting It by thehoyden

“I wasn’t hiding it from you. Honestly, I didn’t know for certain until yesterday, which I think we can agree was bad timing and not the sort of thing one springs before the heat of battle,” Charles says earnestly.

[crash-and-cure]

Burnin’ a Hole Where I Lay (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader) (Omegaverse)

Gif by @troubleinapinksuit

Summary: In which you long ago decided that the standard Alpha and Omega Relationship wasn’t for you, but your best friend Elvis had other plans.

A/N: This is a backup post I made because I absolutely refuse to let this be a case of this one not ending up in the tags again. Based on this request. Semi-Relevant, as i’ve been writing, in my head I’ve been ranking each reader as to how likely they are to bite, and undoubtedly this is my most feral creation, too bad she exists in a world where it may as well be a whole ass love language. So as a quick note as to the dynamics of this Omegaverse, relationshipss are primarily judged on their ability to Breed so A/O are the preferred/seen as the standard, wtih B/O and B/B being seen as acceptable, as a result an A/B relationship is seen as unacceptable. Also Alpha Presentation is marked when they gain their unusually elongated canines, and later go into a rut, Omegas go into their first heat, and Betas essentially present by not presenting whatsoever. Knotting is a bit of a secret in this world, as it only occurs under pretty rare circumstances. Probably some other rules I’m spacing on right now, so feel free to ask if any questions arise. Also I fully acknowledge that there is no way they would be watching The Twilight Zone, but for the purposes of this story let’s pretend.

Warnings: First and foremost this is a Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of delusional and manipulative behavior. VERY dubious consent, (in which reader is a slave to their own desires of consciously not wanting, but their body uncosciously does want it). Set in an Omegaverse so expect the usual. Implied birth control tampering. Bit of a breeding kink implied. Sexual harassment masked as being especially touchy. Smut depicted, that includes penetrative sex (m/f), knotting, cockwarming, cumplay, marking, and a bit of blood play. Also depictions of Parental abandonment and neglect towards reader. Reader is not in a good place y’all and as a result has humor as an unhealthy coping mechanisms and self-depreciative attitude. Instances of reader being yelled at both by Elvis and another character. Best friends to lovers (albeit reluctantly) Please do not interact if you are under 18 years old.

Word Count: 21k (I need to be stopped)

My Masterlist

Denim jeans were a mistake, you think to yourself trying your best not to fan yourself in a very indecent place as you and your group walked back to the rest of the motorcade sitting idle on some backwoods route somewhere in the Florida panhandle. It was a nice cool 102 degrees this morning when the lot of you had taken off so by noon it was hotter than hades, which had been the perfect time for Hank Snow’s car to all but combust, forcing the entire convoy to a screeching halt. The Louisiana Hayride apparently operated the same as the Military: No man left behind.

You and your naturally-run-hot-thighs were having a wonderful time, walking down this stretch of road, along with the other non-talent people who were roped into making a snack and refreshments run at the nearest service station about a half-mile back. You dab yourself, praying you haven’t sweat the last of your face off, as that is the last thing you need right now. The last leg of the hayride tour was proving to be the most arduous as now home felt so close yet still so far off. And this hiccup further proved your theory that hell is to be found on tour.

Though upon seeing them not too far away from you now, your group does admittedly make this far more bearable. You’re not about to let them know that though. So before your thoughts get too chummy about them you set the brown bag from the service station down onto the grass and grab a hold of one of the bottles before you silently stalk forward. Some of them see you and are all too willing to comply when you hold a finger up to your lips in order to better sneak up on your mark. Your prey none the wiser to your dastardly scheme, gleefully tells the tale of seeing Big Boy Crudup as a boy, before it’s interrupted by a yelp and then a subsequent long string of curses as he’s taken by surprise by the cool kiss of the bottle to the back of his neck.

He whips around ready to unleash his fury on the poor soul who dared interrupt him, until you watch in real time as the fire in his eyes dissipate and turn softer upon seeing you giggling up a storm. “Goddamn Y/N, what was that for?” Elvis says exasperated, but doing a piss poor job of hiding his amusement as he wipes the now cool sweat off the back of his neck.

“Felt like it,” you shrug, handing him the bottle before you turn around to retrieve your bag where you had left it, and return bearing gifts.

“Say lil’ lady, you got anythin’ in that bag for some talented musicians?” Scotty asks.

Quick as a whip, you reply, “Sure do. Ya know any?” as you set the bag down on the hood of the car.

Elvis gives a full belly laugh at you, and a beat later, do the others follow suit.

“Did they only have orange soda?” Red remarks as he’s digging through the brown bag.

“No, but one of you mooks, and you know who you are,” you say, pointing to the lot of them. “Have not eaten a single goddamn fruit or vegetable since Texas, and this was the only way I figured I could get y’all to not die from scurvy.”

“Don’t be stupid Y/N,” Billy asserted, nervously trying to hide that he was the one you were talking about. “You only get that when you're out on the sea.”

“I thought you get it when you eat too much salt,” Scotty questions, unsure as to your words.

“No you get it from bad fish,” Red asserts, all the confidence of a man who has never been out to sea.

“You’re all wrong,” you say as you look through your bag trying to find a bottle opener. “You get it when you don’t listen to the Pharmacist’s daughter and eat a goddamn orange every once in a while. Now drink.”

You can see it clear as day as, simultaneously, all of their hackles raise at the thought of being ordered around by a Beta, so they do what they usually do when you do this: they look to Elvis.

Elvis, who has been able to open his own drink with his keys, stops drinking for a moment only to state, “You heard her.” And without a second thought they all sigh in defeat as they each grab a bottle for themselves.

“That’s what I thought,” you state, triumphantly, as you fail to locate anything close to a bottle opener. “You mind,” you say to Elvis, holding your bottle up to him. He gives a little smirk as he brings the still capped bottle up to his mouth.

As he uses his teeth as a makeshift bottle opener, you catch a glimpse at his pronounced canines, and you can’t help but absentmindedly swipe your tongue on that errant tooth in your own mouth. The one that tricked you into believing that you would present as an Alpha only to disappoint nearly everyone in your life.

You’d like to believe you’re past your admittedly childish envy of his status as an Alpha, still that does little to quell that funny feeling you get in the pit of your belly when you see him pop the cap off the bottle with ease.

“I meant use the keys dummy,” you say exasperatedly, swiping the orange drink out of his grasp. “You’re gonna crack a tooth like that one a these days.”

“Aww you do care,” he half-sings to you, and you can only roll your eyes and tell him to shush. He nonetheless listens and uses the keys for his second bottle.

While you languidly sip on the orange drink, that word circles your brain for a bit. Caring is not something you’re exactly used to being called. Years ago you were called protective or watchful, when the entire world was sure as to how you would present. Nowadays in spite of the fact that you doubt you’ve changed too much over the years, you’re called nurturing or motherly.

It’s actually part of the reason you even went on tour with them. You had initially refused Elvis’ invitation to join him on tour, figuring that now was as good as any to move out of the Lauderdale courts. He begged you to go with him and be his makeup assistant on tour as you had been for every show he’d performed up until then. You were reluctant to go due to not wanting to leave the good thing you had going with your job at the Cathouse salon but then Gladys had convinced you to go in order to prevent the boys from getting too buckwild on the road. After all her years of hospitality and refusing your rent payment, you figured this was the least you could do to compensate for your extended stay in her home.

The irony of which was not lost on you as there were many nights after the two of you had your nightly phone calls with her where you would have to kick Elvis out of your motel room to go “talk” to some little chicky that would be skulking around his room (More like you slapped him on the ass and told him ‘go get em tiger’... because you absolutely did do that a few times). You did this mostly to get him out of your hair for the night, but also because in those days you had no idea how long any of this would last and you wanted him to make the most of it. You knew better than most that all things are temporary, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the ride.

Your musings are interrupted by The Colonel’s speaker car announcing the issue had been fixed and everybody better be ready to leave in less than a minute because “Time is money.” Your group quickly packs up, making a beeline back into your respective vehicles.

You quickly check your makeup in the mirror (wouldn’t do for THE Elvis Presley’s makeup girl to look anything less than immaculate, even in this abominable heat, though he’s not exactly a THE yet) as Elvis gets behind the wheel making sure Scotty and Billy got into their car, while Red scurries into the backseat (he lost all privileges to shotgun after a legendary loss to you at a bowling alley back in Baton Rouge). And just like that you’re off to hightail it to the next venue, though not before you catch a particularly nasty side-eye from Hank as he passes your car. With all his huffing and puffing every time Elvis performed, you figured it would only be inevitable the Alpha would eventually burst and blow the lot of you all the way back to Memphis. Especially as his Beta boy kept glancing your way.

So imagine your surprise when by the end of the night Hank ended up leaving and Elvis had news that that Colonel fellow wanted to go into a partnership with him. You’re gone for all of five minutes to get funnel cake and suddenly Elvis is officially on the up and up, with a new manager and everything.

Elvis trusted everybody and you trusted nobody: it made you two the perfect team. It was your natural suspicion of others that had you look over The Colonel’s initial contract and when some of the wording wasn’t sitting right with you, you called in a favor with your former boss, Kitty, who was in turn owed a favor by a Lawyer friend of hers. Even with the favor in place, he ended up taking a good chunk of your savings, which in your book was fine, as it was mostly made up of the rent that the Presley’s refused to accept from you for the past few years. Your intervention would actually prevent Elvis from going 50/50 with The Colonel, and unknowingly save him from so many headaches later down the line.

The Beta Man didn’t quite make your skin crawl, but just about, and he made it no secret how little he cared for you or how much Elvis valued your opinion. Were it not for Elvis’ insistence that you’re the only make-up artist in the world that could achieve the right look for him, you think The Colonel would have elbowed you out early into his career.  

And much to his chagrin you go everywhere with him; shows, movie sets, tv appearances, you name it. Those weeks when you had back to back shows with him and just as many public appearances to keep the momentum of his career going, those were the days where you found yourself longing for the far simpler days.

You honest to god miss 8th grade year. When the world made about as much sense as it could to a twelve year old. The days when you were called the Boldest Little Girl this side of Memphis you were called after you brazenly told your music teacher to shut up when she told the stuttering new kid that he had no future in music in front of the entire class.

After a long lecture on respect and Mrs. Whatsherface made sure your knuckles had a meeting with her ruler, you left her classroom only to be met with that same kid you defended turned around and talking to himself in an empty hallway. He still somehow managed to stutter even when no one was there.

"Th-th-thank y-you," he would say before taking a long steadying breath, before squaring his narrow shoulders and looking as though he were preparing for war.

"Who ya talkin' to?" you would say over his shoulder, and instead of words he would let out a very undignified shriek. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm Y/N."

"El-Elvis," he would say, looking down at his shoes. He’s all sandy hair and knobby knees, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a boy with such long eyelashes before. He was just a bit shorter than you, and with the growth spurt you had recently your mama was hopeful that you would present soon.

"So Elvis… you new to Memphis?" you would say, after a painfully long pause, waiting for him to say something else.

"Ye-ye-yes," he said, still trying to find the secrets to the universe in his shoes. You can’t exactly pinpoint why but in that moment, he reminded you of a wet puppy. One that's just pathetic enough that you want to pick it up and take it home to dry it off and give it a snack.

So that's exactly what you do and you throw an arm around his shoulder, “C’mon, Elvis,” you say as the sandy-haired boy blushes up a storm. “I’m gonna show you around these parts.”

You end up taking him to some of your favorite places around your neck of the woods, and finish this little impromptu trip with a stop off at the neighborhood drugstore, where you ask him what his favorite soda is, and he nearly has a heart attack when you grab one from the cooler and walk out without even attempting to pay for it. Annoyed but willing to humor the boy, you walk up to the counter and tell your daddy you were taking them for you and your friend. You could see the bit of pride in his eyes as you took rather than asking for what you wanted. Elvis meanwhile seemed to be in awe of you. Though he quickly goes beet red when you show him how to open a bottle with your teeth and hand it to him.

“Y’know you don’t stutter when you sing,” you say as the two of you were making your way to his place in the lauderdale courts. “Why’s that?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” he said solemnly, sipping on the Pepsi you gave him. “I gu-guess, it’s cuz I-I-I’m good at it… or I th-thought I wa-was.” he says sadly.

“You do sound good,” you say matter-of-factly, and it makes you feel warm as he lights up at the compliment. “Not everyone’s gonna think so, but you do.”

“But some of ‘em are gonna hate it?” he blanches at the thought.

“Yeah, but that’s just  the way a things ain’t it?”

“I-I guess…”

“Elvis trust me on this,” you state, more sure of yourself than any twelve year old has a right to be. “If people don’t like how you sound, it’s on them to not listen, because there are plenty more people who will love it.” Simple piece of advice really, and not applicable to all situations you recognize now, but with the way you watched him hunching in on himself to look smaller only for him to walk straighter into his home, it looked like it’s what he needed to hear.

Elvis would return to music class the next day with his own guitar in hand and sing his little heart out in front of the entire class. Mrs. Whatsherface still didn’t approve, stating how she “didn’t like how he sounded.” But he in turn looked her right in the eye and told her what you had told him, and you had never been more proud of another person in your entire life.

“Well Mrs. Wilson, you don’t gotta listen.” he asserts, more confidence in him than you’ve seen in all the time you’ve known him.

Your friendship however was really solidified after that jerk that sat behind you in class, Leon, cut Elvis guitar strings as a “joke” he claimed. Seeing Elvis' heartbroken expression and knowing his family’s financial status, awoke some latent protective streak within you that had you dip into your meager savings for a record player to buy two things that night: guitar strings and gum.

The next day you would give Elvis the replacement strings before school would start as well as an ominous suggestion to watch you during study hall. And he would watch as you proceeded to stick a wad of gum in your own hair and proceed to flip over the table behind you and try to knock Leon’s lights out. Nobody ever really made that connection that it had anything to do with what he did to Elvis’ guitar. No, all anybody ever knew was just that Leon sat behind you and someone had put gum in your hair, and you swung first and asked questions later.

Elvis would watch in utter awe of you as the teacher escorted you and Leon out of the class by your ears, and you would wink at him as you passed by, but you think the sentiment of it was lost considering the eye you used was the one already swelling shut. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Elvis would return home that night and let his Mama know he found the girl he was gonna marry.

You saved Elvis the embarrassment of having to be defended by a girl, and the focus was solely on how Leon had gotten beaten up by one. You would even cleverly and cruelly dub him “The Cowardly Leon,” for the rest of the year, and only let it die out after you needed to start flying under the radar once you had presented.

You cared a lot about justice back then because that’s what your father instilled in you. In fact the first thing he said to you when he came to pick you up, was asking whether or not you won. God he was so proud of you for standing up for yourself, and he ended up taking you out for ice cream. In retrospect not the best thing to teach a kid, to handle conflict with physical violence. Back then it was seen as blooming Alpha behavior of play-acting at being territorial and rough-housing. But once you presented as a “Beta” that same behavior that was seen as charming, became deviant or atypical of how a proper beta should act.

That year was the last one of simplicity you would ever experience, as you were comfortable in what your future would look like. Your daddy's side of the family came from a long, unbroken line of Alphas, both male and female. And it only felt inevitable that you would present as one, and one day you would inherit your family drug store, you would settle down with a nice omega partner, have a couple kids, who would also be Alphas, pass it on to them, so on and so forth.  With his ever present, yet endearing stutter and his unabashed love for his mama, you had thought Elvis would be such a partner. And the way you sometimes caught him looking at you at times, you didn't think he would be entirely opposed to it either.

You were an only child and your daddy did his best to teach you long before you were even close to presenting how an Alpha acts. Lessons to always be bold and aggressive. To take what you want and how to fight for what is yours. The benefits of remaining stoic, and relying only on yourself. How to essentially be the perfect Alpha.

Lessons that would ultimately be wasted on you, you would learn that summer after 8th grade. It was just supposed to be a nice ordinary trip to visit Nana up in Nashville. First day, you would be slightly uncomfortable and very tired, nothing cool refreshments and a nap couldn’t help. Day two you felt a lot warmer that wasn’t the least bit helped by Nana’s brand new Air Conditioner. Day three you would spend covering the windows with blankets in order to better curl up into a corner on your bed with pieces of clothing you had taken from your parents. Day four there was no more denying what was happening as you cried into mama’s lap, feeling oddly betrayed by your own body as you waited for all of it to pass.

Your daddy put you on suppressants the second you were all finished and were back in Memphis. He was the only one whose disappointment in your presentation matched your own. Mama tried her best to convince you it wasn’t so bad to be an Omega, but the words feel hollow as you overhear her insistence to daddy that she wasn’t too old to try and get it “right” this time with another baby.

Nothing felt real those summer days, and by the time newly presented Alpha, Elvis Presley, strolled into the store, you officially accepted that you were in some sort of upside down world. You didn’t even really see him at first, you were so used to seeing him at less than eye-level to you, that it didn’t register to you to look up, and find the previously waifish Elvis Presely having been replaced by a taller, broader -and dare you say it, handsome- young man before you.

Of all the people you knew, you thought Elvis would be the one that you would be able to tell, but as the light softly glints off his newly descended canines you knew that could never be.

There’s a part of you that wants to tell him. To admit to someone, who will undoubtedly accept you as you are, but you catch sight of your parents staying on opposite sides of the store. A painful reminder that nothing is ever a sure thing.  

“My what big teeth you have,” you instead remark as you lean against the counter.

“Heya sweetheart,” he says, propping an elbow on to the counter, though not without some awkwardness as he catches your magazine and slides forward a little before catching himself.

“Sweetheart? What is that about?” You ask, acting dumb and hoping you’re wrong.

He grins even wider at that

“Oh yeah,” you say, trying to be as non-chalant as you possibly could be. You hook your pinky into the corner of your mouth to show him the normal canine you have. He perks up ever so slightly as he sees it, only to deflate once he hears your muffled “Beta.”

“O-oh… oh, ummm…” he stutters, unsure of what to say to you.

“Disappointed? So’s my daddy,” you say flippantly.

“N-no it ain’t that,” he stutters. “It’s just I-I… well I…”

“Was expecting something else?” you finish for him. “You and me both buddy,”

“...Y-yeah umm….” he says glancing down between you and the floor as though waiting for the sike.

“C’mon, don’t be upset for my sake, you’re an Alpha now, cream of the crop and all that,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too jealous. You hand him a Pepsi on the house and call for the next customer knowing you’re gonna have to be on inventory later so you’re daddy won’t notice it missing.

In short order by the start of your freshman year you would learn three awful things. First, that while the state of Tennessee’s single bond and marriage laws were still in place, they do make an exception for Alpha business owners who wish to pass down their legacy to an Alpha Child. Secondly, that your daddy was aware of this exception because he had done it once before, as you and your mama were his second attempt at an alpha child, after his first born son presented as an omega. Third, the reason you had a babysitter until you were fourteen, was because your daddy apparently needed a backup for his backup.

That is how you found yourself moving all of your belongings into the Lauderdale Courts, where you would find a familiar face. He was surprised to see you there, especially with the load of boxes behind you, but he wasn’t about to let your surly demeanor get in the way of him rolling out the welcome wagon for you and your Mama.

Elvis is not one to be ignored, and you find it amusing that he was now the one that more or less bullied you into doing things. And as loath as you are to admit it he more or less did become somewhat of a protector to you when Leon tried to get his licks back. It is a strange reversal, but not a wholly unwelcome one. You do at least try to find the comedy that is the tragedy of your life now.

Your mama was with you, but you could hardly say she was present anymore. The days she wasn’t drinking herself into a stupor, were the days she was cursing your father’s name and long-winded rants about how he stole the best years of her life. For all the passion and fury in her words, they were hollow, as instead of getting on suppressants to combat her heats, she instead went back to him every single time to take care of her. There would be times you would come home from school only to find your place empty, cash in an envelope on the table, nary a note in sight, and you would spend the week with a neighbor.

You try to justify it in your head with the fact that Mated Omegas could die if they go into heat without their Alpha, but that was exactly what suppressants were made for. They weren’t true mates so there should be no problem for her alone to break the bond, and yet like clockwork every three months she would be gone for the entire week, and wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes for about the next two weeks following that.

You hated those days when you would come back to the apartment only to find her missing, that ominous pink dot on the calendar, and some money left in an envelope for you to take care of yourself for the week. Gladys Presley didn’t even hesitate in offering you a place to stay so you wouldn’t be alone, but as welcoming and kind as the Presley’s were to you during those weeks you felt humiliated not only for having to rely on their hospitality, but also the reason why.

You knew where exactly she went. Everyone in the Lauderdale Courts- hell, everyone in Memphis- knew where she went, as those were the same weeks that your father and his new wife would disappear off the face of the Earth. All those pitiful looks and derisive snorts when you walked by felt the same, they said “oh look, there’s the little unwanted girl.” Your mother went from wife to glorified mistress in a matter of months, and people shaped their own opinions on you solely around that.

You got by though, especially after you were able to get a part time job in Sophmore year. Kitty LeBlanc is perhaps the most feared Alphas this side of Memphis. She and her wife, Jeanie, have been running the Cathouse Beauty Salon, for the last twenty or so years, the place to go when you’re looking to get done up for a date night or a divorce. It’s well known in these parts that any Omegas having trouble with their Alphas need only come to Kitty to get them to start doing right by them. So suffice to say, she was furious at what your daddy did to you, and the only thing stopping her from launching a full scale whisper campaign against your daddy’s store, is that you and your mama were still financially dependent on him and so didn’t want to leave him completely destitute.

But you also had the underlying reason that you needed him to stay open so you could still get the suppressants you needed. They were created way back when during war times, to prevent mated omegas from dying due to their Alphas being gone so long, and nowadays they are only prescribed to mated Omegas under the most extreme of circumstances. Legally you’re not supposed to be on them whatsoever, but while normally your father being a pharmacist had few perks, this was absolutely one of them.

It’s bad enough he’s known for having more or less abandoned an Omega Partner, but it would have absolutely devastated him, socially and legally, if it had gotten out that he had abandoned not one but two Omega children of his. So rather than having that be his reputation he made everyone believe that you in fact were a Beta. And you’re fine with this, because you already push it by acting like an Alpha when you’re known as a Beta, you doubt you’ll be tolerated anymore if it comes out that you’re an Omega.

Kitty would respect your choice and instead offered you a job, mostly sweeping the floors and taking out the trash after school, for a little extra cash on the side. That’s where your interest in makeup first began, seeing how someone could be having the worst day of their lives, but their appearance exhibiting none of that.

“Think of it like a mask,” Kitty would explain to you as you attempted eyeliner for the first time. “You’re only showing the world what you want them to see.”

High school was a bit of a blur, and before you know it you’re in your Senior year. Prom was something you had been looking forward to. You had saved up all your money from the Cathouse to buy a beautiful red dress, had been asked out by a nice Beta boy from your art class, and Kitty promised you the full salon treatment for such a special occasion. Really everything was looking up with the only hitch being how weird Elvis had gotten when you told him about your plans for the evening.

After the talent show (where you almost resorted to pushing him onto the stage), Elvis certainly wasn’t without options, but he still insisted on going Stag with you and the rest of your friends for Prom. Those plans didn’t change with your news but he clearly seemed to have become grumpier as of late.

But you didn’t pay it any mind, as afterall the shit you’d been through up until that point, was one night really too much to ask for. Evidently it was, because as you were getting into David’s car, you realized you had forgotten the evening gloves your mama was letting you borrow, and you ran back into the building only to be met with your mother with a suitcase in hand as she set down an envelope on the small dining table.

You vividly remember how she would look up at you with only the slightest hint of guilt in her eyes, before her expression steels itself with a calm demeanor, as she gives you a cool smile, places the envelope in your hand with a friendly pat, and then she walked out the door without even a glance back.

You would never see her again.

To My Darling Daughter,

I’m sorry for what I have to do, but you must understand that while this is a choice, it’s not an easy one.

If you can take comfort in anything, know that it is your strength and resiliency and seeing you as bold as you are for what you are has inspired me to take control of my own life. I’ve met a Beta man who has promised me a better life away from this place. My only regret is that I can’t bring you with me.

But I know for a fact that you, unlike me, can and will survive on your own.

I Love You So Much,

Mama

You had to read her letter several times, not fully believing the words before you. You recognize that there was a part of you that had wanted this for years. For her to run far and fast from your father, but you had just always assumed she would’ve taken you as well.

You hardly have time to process that as you hear David’s horn honking out at the front. No, instead of sitting with your feelings about the matter, you fix your makeup, grab the gloves, and walk out to the powder blue chevy. After David offers whatever was in the flask he swiped from his daddy, the entire dance turns into a haze, with the only evidence that you were even there being the commemorative photo and the blisters you feel forming on your feet.

“Say Y/N, my folks are outta town this weekend.” David says idly as you’re walking out of the school gymnasium.

“That’s nice,” you slur, not really having heard a word he said, trying hard not to fall on your face as you stumble in your kitten heels.

“So why don’t we head back to my place?” He asks practically buzzing with anticipation.

“Sure fine,” you sigh apathetically, understanding what he’s implying, and going mostly because the prospect of going back to an empty apartment is far more terrifying to you.

You can see the excitement on the Beta boy's face grow until he looks past you and you watch as the blood-drains from his face. “There you are Y/N,” you hear from a strained yet distinct voice behind you. You turn around only to see Elvis’ icy blue eyes somehow burning holes into your date, as he says through gritted teeth. “Your mama made me promise to get you home early.”

You can hardly be faulted for your almost knee-jerk reaction at Elvis’ blatant- well to you-lie: you burst into a near hysterical fit of laughter, to the point tears are streaming down your face. You laugh a little too hard and a little too long at a joke neither boy seems to understand, that David, by the time you’re mostly done, is long gone. It doesn’t matter though, because in your drunken state your thoughts turn to how embarrassed Elvis is going to be when he takes you home and realizes he got caught in a lie, because you don’t have a Mama anymore.

As you’re stumbling to Elvis’ car, he stops you in your tracks, “Y/N, you alright there?” he breathes and you see his nose flares for a moment, no doubt smelling whatever the hell was in that flask. “What did he do?” He hisses, with murder in his eyes.

“Oh dontcha worry about ole’ Davey over there,” you dismiss, as you grip onto one of his forearms to keep yourself standing (when did they get so big?). “How ‘boutchu take me back home because… I. Gotta. Surprise. For. You.” You say, punctuating your last few words, tapping his nose each time. You can see his eyes widen and his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows nervously, before he quietly agrees.

He gets you back into his daddy’s car seemingly content to have gotten you away from your date, until you’re on the road, and in a fit of… grief… madness… something, you open the window and let one of the evening gloves your mother had let you borrow fly out into the night.

“Ain’t those your mama’s?” He asks, slightly perturbed at your seeming indifference, when you’re usually so careful with your clothes.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum as you let its twin also fly out. The rest of the ride back to the Lauderdale Courts was filled with a thick silence, as you were upset, and Elvis could tell you were upset, yet neither one of you knew how to address it, so you both remained quiet.

Elvis gets you into the building and in repayment for his act of chivalry, you didn’t vomit all over his rented suit. No, instead you bolt into your apartment, that you had left unlocked for your mama without another word. After brushing the taste of bile and fruit punch out of your mouth, you would find him sitting on your couch with that damn letter in his hands.

It is at that moment where you enter and you see the heartbreak and pity in his eyes for you, did you finally recognize that this wasn’t as funny as you thought it would be. No, in fact it leaves you with a hollow feeling inside of you, seeing him that way, but instead of dealing with that you choose to laugh at the situation.

You laugh because otherwise you’ll cry.

“Tell me Presley,” you joke with him. “You make it a habit of reading through other people’s mail?”

“Y/N, I-I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he would say, tears welling in his eyes for you.

“Well we got that in common,” you say, wishing to be numb to the whole world by this point.

“I-I just don’t understand wh-why she would do somethin’ like this,” he states, genuinely unbelieving that a mother could do something like this. You’re confused for a different reason, as you can’t quite find the logic in leaving you behind when she was so close to being able to do so legally after you had graduated.

Guess she just wanted out that bad.

“Oh I know why,” you stated as you threw off your shoes and tossed your legs over his lap. “I’m unlovable,” you say flippantly, while shrugging your shoulders. You weren’t seeking his pity nor his comfort. In your mind you were simply stating a fact. The same way you would state that the sky is blue or that water is wet, Y/N is unlovable. How could you not be, as both people that were all but hard-wired to do so, want nothing to do with you?

You see so many emotions pass through his face at your statement. Until he throws his arms around you and brings you as close as possible to him. “You’re not unlovable,” he declares.

“No I am,” you say, resolved to your fate. “I just need to accept that.”

“You’re not unlovable, Y/N,” he blubbers a bit, tears in his eyes, holding your face in his hands. “Because I lo-”

You quickly slap your hand over his mouth, shushing him, truly not wanting to hear the next words to come out. You’re not an idiot, you remember the way he would look at you before either of you presented, it’s the same way he looks at you now, when he thinks you’re not paying attention. But you know, as did he you suspect, that if either one of you were to ever verbally acknowledge it, everything would be ruined.

It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before. Nothing would be wrong considering you are actually an Omega, and anybody would tell you being close friends with an Alpha would eventually lead to this. But one thing throws a wrench into this idea: the fact that the thought of being bonded to an Alpha, even Elvis, terrifies you to your core.

You’ve seen how wrong those relationships could go, what happens to the omega and how the Alpha could get out scott free. You know yourself well enough to recognize that you are far too willful and bold to make for a good wife for an Alpha when most would prefer a more demure, submissive mate. Add in how apparently easy you are to leave behind, you doubt your odds of having the ideal life for an Omega look too good.

In your quieter moments you would wonder who you were supposed to be. If you hadn’t been raised with the expectation that you were going to be an Alpha would you have actually exhibited the traits that go with being an Omega. Or would you have still ended up the same way? Neither scenario fills you with comfort.

You try not to dwell on these thoughts too long, as afterall, as far as Elvis knows, being with you like that is impossible. Besides you and Elvis have a good thing going on right now and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

You’ll later blame the alcohol for what had happened next, as you sat next to him, doing your best to stop crying, in spite of your feelings of being unwanted and unloved. But you’re somewhat comforted by Elvis being so close to you, and you liken your next actions as some latent part of your omega brain trying to compensate for your crippling loneliness that night by trying to start something with the nearest Alpha, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Your face buried in his neck, you could feel yourself steady the longer you breathed in his heady scent of leather and rose water, disparate yet no less intoxicating, all tied to something uniquely him. Something you had never really noticed before, given that the suppressants did a good job of dampening your smell capabilities, but being so close to him now, you begin to understand why the other omegas would get giddy moments before he walked into a room.

You remember just every breath filling you with a sense of comfort and warmth, and simply wanting to be as close to its source as possible. His scent reminded you of burrowing yourself in warm blankets on a cold morning or taking the first sip of hot cocoa on a frigid night, that feeling of being so comfortable in your discomfort that you don’t even recognize what it was until you felt the slightest bit of relief from it.

Wanting to further immerse yourself in that scent, you find yourself quickly going from leaning on him, to full-on straddling him, all so that you could better nuzzle your face into his neck. Though from the rumbling in his chest he didn’t seem to mind your invasion of his space too much. In fact he had followed suit by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose into your neck.

Though his discontented snarls tell you he’s apparently having a hard time. As a “Beta” you hardly even register as an option for him, the suppressants apparently making your scent so subtle, you’re about as appealing as a houseplant to him. You on the other hand were practically getting drunk on what little scent was making its way through to you.

So drunk were you in fact that you didn’t realize what you were doing with your hips until he let out a strained groan that reverberated back onto your neck. You don’t exactly know where your head was at, you just remember that he smelled so good and felt even better against your burning core, which is why you felt little shame as you continued to grind into him, the salacious act being hidden from your view by your skirt.

Your eyes meet his and you’re not exactly sure who leans in first, just that somebody did. But almost like magic, that tentative and nervous brushing of your lips against his, broke you from your spell, and made you realize what exactly you were doing.

You tear yourself away from him, nearly cracking your head on the low table as you land on your rear in front of the couch. Horrifyingly you’re now put at eye-level with his legs where you see something tenting the front of his pants. You take advantage of his utterly bell-rung state as you would pathetically crawl away from him and into your own tiny bedroom, to get away from this confusing and frankly terrifying situation.

There’s no lock to speak of so you block the door with your own body, crying into your hands, praying that he sees himself out, though like usual your wishes go unheard.

“Y/N?” You hear from the last person you want to deal with, knock at your door. His voice quivering as though he’s close to tears.

You sob harder.

“Y/N, I’m beggin’ ya here. Please talk to me,” he says, sounding genuinely distraught.

“Go away, Elvis!” You beg through your blubbering. This back and forth continues for a while until your stubborn nature prevails, and you’re left alone.

And all is right in the world.

You would wake up with a god-awful crick in your neck, and feeling unpleasantly feverish beyond belief. You quickly take your suppressants as you have done religiously since you had started on them, and you would spend the day barricaded in your room waiting for your fever to cool down.

Come Monday, Elvis wouldn’t be in school, and in spite of the fact he was the last person you wanted to see, you were given the task of passing along his school work to him. You were no stranger within the Presley household, oftentimes spending the weeks your mother was in heat with them, as Gladys couldn’t stand the thought of you all alone in that apartment. So it was surprising to say the least when she was the one to bar you from entering the door.

“Sweetheart,” she sighs, looking tiredly between you and the apartment behind her. “Elvis is umm… a bit… sick, and he won’t be fit for seein’ for… a few more days.” The blush on her face and the embarrassment in her voice tell you exactly what exactly is happening to him. You quickly dismiss yourself back to your empty apartment.

Well that at least explained why he let you do… that. He was a young Alpha going into his first Rut, he probably would have done the same with a box of cracker jacks if it promised him a good time. It meant nothing, so you were going to treat it like that.

It made more sense than the alternative of your “mini-heat” sending him into a rut. Afterall everybody knows that only true mates are capable of doing that. Most mated couples take a few cycles in order to sync up properly, while in contrast true mates can almost immediately trigger the other's time just by being in the same vicinity while going through theirs. You’ve also heard rumors of something else happening with those couples, but you’ve never bothered to dive too deep into that, and all you know is that it had something to do with how they almost always get pregnant during their first cycle.

True Mates are just rare enough to be special, but happen frequently enough that everybody at least knows one pair. It felt like every single Omega you met dreamed of finding their true mate regardless of how unlikely it is to happen. It also had all the hallmarks of being devastatingly romantic, with the idea that these are the only bonds that are truly unbreakable and that both parties could potentially die without the other, rather than just the Omega.

In theory it should sate your worries about being left by an Alpha, but it does little to help, as the idea scares the shit out of you. The idea that regardless of your own wishes to never be mated to an alpha, some force has apparently fated you to be with someone. Add to the fact that they have yet to make suppressants sufficiently strong enough to quell an omega with a true mate because apparently the bond is that strong, and all you see is a disaster waiting to happen.

You spend the next week trying to figure out the logistics of living on your own. You know Graduation is roughly a month away and without your mother to renew the lease or your father not willing to pay past his legal obligation, you’re going to be homeless. You can chance it with the foster system you suppose if you declare yourself an unaccompanied Omega, but more than likely they’ll send you back with your father, and he’ll more than likely hock you off to the first Alpha that gives you a second glance.

By the end of the week you’ve accepted that your best option for the time being is hoping that Kitty is kind enough to allow you to stay in the storage closet while you get your full salon training. If you sell everything in the apartment and by the time you're making full salary you may just be able to afford a room in a girl’s boarding house. That is until Gladys Presley, after three days of you dancing around the question of “Where’s your Mama, sweetheart?” finally sat you down and refused to hear any more excuses, and you had to quietly admit how you didn’t know.

Gladys is surely a force to be reckoned with as within an hour of your solemn confession she has you at her table with a warm meal, her couch already set up, and the landlord agreeing to forward you the last two months of payment your father is supposed to pay for rent. But what she can’t fix is the fact that you are suspiciously not making eye contact with Elvis.

You had insisted on making yourself useful and helped Gladys clean up afterwards, but once she and Vernon called it a night, you knew there was no getting around it anymore. At around midnight do you hear Elvis shuffle into the living room, clearly hesitant to have this conversation as well.

“You up?”

“No.”

That gets a short huff out of him before he plants himself on the opposite side of the couch as you, essentially sitting on your feet. The room is too dark to really see him, but the slight shaking in his leg and constant shifting tell you he’s just as uncomfortable as you are.

“Elvis about Prom ni-”

“Are you really a Beta?” he cuts you off.

In spite of the darkness within the room, you still try to school your expression to one of confusion rather than shock. “What kind of question is that?” you say, managing to sound tiredly exasperated with him, while your heart is going a mile a minute. “Of course I’m a Beta, why’d ya think I wasn’t?”

“It’s just…” he pauses. “That night-”

“The night nothing happened.”

“Y/N,” he says severely, a tone he has never in his life used with you. “I need an honest answer here.”

You think about your next words carefully. As far as you know Alpha’s can’t literally sniff out lies, nor do you have any reason to believe he can hear some sort of minute difference between a lie and a truth.

For a brief moment you contemplate being totally honest with him, but you quickly dismiss that notion when you shift slightly and feel the hard edge of the couch armrest. Your situation is far too precarious to risk it on a gamble that he may want you, when if anything this past month has proven how unwanted you are.

“Elvis… you’re my best friend,” you state, as this much is true. “Do you really think I would lie to you about something like this?” you say, too cowardly to lie through your teeth and say no, instead you put it on him as to whether he believes you would do such a thing to your best friend.

He sighs in defeat, believing you wouldn’t invoke your relationship on a lie this big. “No… No, you’re right,” though you can hear the slightest quiver in his voice. “It-it’s just bad luck, that all that happened in the same night.”

“Exactly,” you say relieved that he came to the same conclusion that you did about that night. “E, I-I didn’t get a chance to say this yet but… thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking me in,” you sigh, not a fan of the coy act.

“It was nothin’ Darlin’,” he says though you can hear him relax a bit at that. “Mama wasn’t ‘bouta let that stand.”

“Well then thanks for nothing Presley,” you say with a grin.

He laughs at that, and says “C’mere you,” as he brings you in close for a hug. You do notice as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and pointedly takes an extra long whiff of your neck. He’s undoubtedly trying one last ditch effort to prove his theory right only to find nothing.

“But I hope you can accept that I’m your mama’s favorite now,” you say as seriously as you could to break the tension, in an effort to ignore what he just did.

He pauses at that before pushing your face back into the pillow and saying around a smile, “alright, go back to sleep, you.”

Those months following your graduation, there was something so simple about those days, almost idyllic, in an odd way. You would be the first up in the household, so it was on you to push Elvis out of bed, take care of breakfast and lunch for the both of you. He would drive you to work in his company truck listening to the early morning radio and you would muse that it would only be a matter of time before the two of you would be hearing him. He would always get red in the ears at that and drop you off at the salon. He would occasionally drop in for lunch and afterwards the two of you would hit up Beale street for a while before heading home. Have dinner with his folks, go to bed, repeat all of that the next day.

You would often practice your makeup skills on him when Gladys was unavailable, giving you a better understanding as to how to not only put makeup on someone else, but how to also highlight a person’s best features. And working so close on him, did you realize that Elvis had many. In return for your “experimentation,” you would go to every single performance of his as support which evolved into doing makeup for him. Oftentimes you’re the last person he talks to before he gets on stage, as you would often help him clean himself up when he got too in his head about the whole thing, but also the first one to greet him once he got off the stage.

Though as the years went on and performing became more routine, and you find yourself in the midst of show business alongside him. Traveling the country and working on movie sets are never things you ever expected to happen, even in the days when you had your life set out before you.

Those days seem so far away now, as though they were a dream of a different life. But now you were in a new era, the “New Elvis” era, which would be one of the worst you ever had the displeasure of witnessing. It was like watching a Peacock be plucked and be told to still be just as eye-catching, and you let the Colonel know as much. You thought it was bad enough having to see him dressed in tails, but you knew the disaster that was headed your way the moment you saw that damn dog being rolled on stage with him.

When they moved into Graceland, the Presley’s took you along with them, and even tried to offer you a room on the top floor, the one specifically designated for family. It was one of the few times you and the Colonel were on the same page about… anything really, as you were vehemently against the initial room he offered you and instead took a moderately sized room on the first floor.  You did this as you know that keeping some distance between you and them will make it hurt a lot less when they inevitably drop you.

Elvis Presley being in your bed is not an unusual experience, something you had gotten used to way back when your bed was the Presley’s couch, and he made it a habit of letting himself in as he pleased in your room at Graceland. So you hardly blink when you wake up to him laying next to you in the middle of the night. Or rather you do several times in order to get all the sleep out of your eyes and try to get a grip of your bearings as you suddenly awaken to a bed full of rockstar.

You had watched him storm out earlier, all passion and fury at the world that wants different and contradictory things from him all at once. Now all that fire has seemingly been extinguished as he lies next to you hands on his stomach, voice quiet and unsure of himself as he asks “You awake Y/N?” imperceptible through the non-existent lighting in the room.

“No.”

He huffs at you, and you can almost hear the smile on his lips, before the room turns solemn once more. And you give a big tear-welling yawn, but you’re still willing to help him through his identity crisis.

“Sweetheart, be honest with me,” he says into the inky darkness. “This ‘New Elvis” thing… ya’ think it’s a mistake?”

“Yes” you answer without missing a beat. You were never one to mince words for him and you’re not about to start now. “Now answer me this: is your name Frank?”

“No,” he answers confused.

“Is your name Bill?”

“No.”

“Is your name Buddy?”

“Y/N, what the hell are ya gettin’ at?”

“What I’m getting at is if they wanted a old crooner in a boring suit, they woulda gotten Frank Sinatra. They wanted clean sanitized rock n’ roll, they woulda gotten Bill Haley. If they had wanted someone popular but not so controversial, they woulda gotten Buddy Holly.” You say, impassioned as you are sleepy, hoping you’re making even a lick of sense to him. “They didn’t get any of them. But you know who they asked to be there?”

“Me?”

“Who?”

He chuckles before saying, “Elvis Presley.”

“That’s right,” you say, poking his chest. “They want you E, controversy and all, because you know what, ain’t nobody better at getting asses in seats and panties on the floor.”

“Y/N!” he exclaims, scandalized and, you can just imagine, red in the face.  

“It’s true though,” you continue. “Being controversial these days hardly makes a difference anymore.”

“How’d ya figure that?”

“Elvis…” you say solemnly. “To my face people shake their heads and click their tongues as to what my daddy did to me and my mama. That doesn’t stop them from patronizing his store and giving him their money to better support his new family.” You feel him give a comforting rub on your shoulder. “Look what I’m trying to say is that, when what you give is good enough, people will overlook just about everything else. And trust me what you sell… sells.” You pause when you feel something hard beside your feet. “Are you wearing your shoes in my bed?”

“...maybe?”

“Get outta here weirdo,” you huff annoyed at his antics, and use all of your might to push him out.

“Alright, alright,” he says, acquiescing and getting out of your bed. “Guess I’ll head to that diner you love all by myself.” You can almost hear the smirk when his statement gets the pause he was looking for.

“You’re a cruel, cruel man Elvis Presley,” you declare. “Give me 20 minutes.”

The next day at Russwood Park, you’re putting the final touches on him before he gets on stage. You can still see the tiniest bit of conflict still on his face so you tickle his nose with your makeup brush to get his attention. “Remember. They don’t like how it sounds…” you trail off.

“They don’t gotta listen.” he finishes, apparently remembering your bit of 12 year old wisdom. Once he got on stage, he would take your advice, but the next time he would crawl back into your bed would be the night he got his draft notice.

None of you were exactly surprised, as everybody had known to expect it sooner rather than later, especially given that Elvis had slowly and steadily become one of the most controversial singers in the country. However the days immediately following it were some of the bleakest you’ve ever experienced.

With The Colonel’s whole rebranding spiel, and how much trouble he got in after Russwood Park, the fresh start idea isn’t terrible at this point, but you wish you could have gotten out easier. As cold as it sounds to say, you now saw the writing on the wall. You’re fully aware of the fact that, of his crew, his make-up girl is on the lowest of priorities. Regardless of how fond he is of you, he is undoubtedly about to be put under a microscope and whether he realizes it or not, he’s about to embark on a new chapter of his life, a chapter that more than likely doesn’t include you.

You want to do your best to put on a brave face for him, the last thing you want to do is add to his stress. And besides it isn’t like you ever truly believed that this was in any way permanent. As life had taught you that nothing is permanent, so why would living with the Presley’s be any different?

It’s just a hard fact of your life that people inevitably get tired of you, and you get left behind for something better. As fun as it’s been with Elvis and his family, never once did you trick yourself into believing that this is how it would be forever. Maybe in those simpler days of practicing makeup on him in the bathroom and lunches in the bed of his company pick up truck… maybe. But as Elvis’ star burned brighter, you were snapped back to reality at how temporary and tenuous your situation was. The same way Elvis outgrew Lauderdale courts, he would outgrow you.

What would he even need his make-up girl for while he’s deployed? The Colonel made it clear he’s not to perform while he’s enlisted, and you doubt wearing makeup will do him any favors in the barracks. And besides, Omegas are unable to even get a passport in Tennessee without explicit permission from their designated Alpha, who in your case, would still be your father.

The father whom you interact with very little these days, the last time being almost a year ago and that was simply to stock up on a year's worth of suppressants. Your father whose business is not seeing as many customers these days because as far as Kitty knows, you don’t need anything from him any more.

Bright side of this is that at the very least you’re not without options this time around. Kitty had made it loud and clear that you’ll always have a place at the Cathouse, and hell you have enough savings to see you through the next few years in Memphis if you simply wanted to wait out his time in the army. But neither seemed appealing to you, as either way your future would still rely on others' good will.

When Elvis had started making movies, of course he dragged you along for the ride up there. You were still the only one he trusted to do his makeup and as a result the studio ended up giving you a crash course as to how to do movie makeup, which you learned was a completely different beast to stage makeup, as you now had to toe the fine line of subtlety. Regardless of all that you did end up making a pretty important discovery, in regard to potential future prospects for yourself. You learned that in the movie making business, Betas are like gold in Hollywood especially for the more practical and technical parts of movie making. This is all due in part to the fact of their overall lack of appeal to Alpha actors, as well as not being as distracting for Omega ones either, not to mention they are far more reliable as they don’t have to worry about pesky heats or ruts.

You also learned that up in Hollywood, you could get access to suppressants about as easily as you could get your hands on a packet of M&M’s, as unlike in Tennessee you didn’t need to be mated in order to gain access to them. As a result, you discovered there were more than a few behind the scenes hands who were also Omegas that masqueraded as Betas in order to get work on the sets, doing wonders to make you feel less out of place there.

Janet, the head of the make-up department Paramount, was initially reluctant to have you aboard but was nonetheless impressed with your ability to pick up the craft as quickly as you did. You had kept her phone number from way back when and decided that now would be a good time to take her up on that job offer. She was ecstatic to bring you onboard but the hiring process being what it is you still technically need to be recommended by former employers.

“You sure I can’t sway you to come back here,” Kitty says as she’s signing the bottom of the letter. The sentimental part of yourself that you had believed you had smothered long ago is screaming yes in your head, not wanting to leave everything you ever knew in Memphis, but the pragmatic part of you knew that your days here are numbered.

You want to be able to bury yourself in her chest and tell her how she’s been like a parent to you all these years. To thank her for all the years she’s cared for you in whatever way she could, taught you your trade that has proven invaluable, steered you in the right direction. But all of that feels too final for your liking, and instead you remark “Unless you got a rich Beta man in the back, then no dice,” all the while giving a casual shrug.  

“Well at least you ain’t followin’ that good for nothin’ boy across the world,” she sighs in relief. Kitty was not a fan of Elvis, she made no secret about it, less so when you turned in your resignation to be his makeup assistant for the Louisiana Hayride. Your best guess as to the animosity is how eerily similar they are when you really pay attention. The same way Kitty could give a single look to any fellow Alpha she had ever met, and make them act right, Elvis could do the same, except make them act however he liked. They’re the type of people that just magnetically attract those around them.

But you also think that it is also on the principle that she dislikes any and all partners her children bring around… Which is ridiculous because everybody knows it’s impossible.

You decide not to waste the trip into town and start heading toward your least favorite place in Memphis. You only make this trip once a year anymore, and you’re hoping to make this as quick and painless as possible. But as the little shop below your old home comes into view, do you recognize what a tall order that is.

“What in the hell is this?” your father seethes as you approach the counter, throwing down a newspaper before you. You see yourself wide-eyed looking into a camera with Elvis leading you by the hand into the car after Russwood Park. The draft notice had left the paper's tongues wagging and apparently of all the photos of him that have been printed, it was just your luck that this one was apparently the one most worthy of being reprinted.

Rather than react with the same guilt or shame that any normal Omega would have when confronted by their father as to why they were seen with perhaps the most controversial Alpha in America, you idly pick up and open a candy bar that was sitting at the front.

“A newspaper,” you say with a mouthful of Baby Ruth. “Can I have what I came here for now?” He throws the pages at you, but if you learned anything from him, it is that flinching earns you nothing but letting the other person know you’re scared of them.  

“Don’t be cute with me girl,” he spits that last part as though you were a stranger and not his daughter. “Why the hell do I find out like this you’re living with that boy?”

“You didn’t care a single goddamn bit where I was livin’ before, why’s it matter now?”

“It matters because what you’ve been doin’ makes me look like a bad father lettin’ my own daughter run around with that… that…” he says snapping his fingers, searching for the right word.

“Degenerate?” you finish for him, as it is the most common insult you’ve lobbed Elvis’ way.

“Don’t interrupt me,” he seethes, a rumble emanating from his chest, but after being surrounded by the likes of Elvis and Kitty, this does absolutely nothing for you, and you wonder how anybody has ever been intimidated by this man.

“Well good news, the only reason you look like a bad father, is because you are a bad father,” you tell him with a smile on your face. “No one thinks of you enough to bother telling lies about you.”

“Outta the kindness of my heart, I been footin’ the bill for these,” he holds up the bag for emphasis. “Only to find out you've been holdin’ out on me.”

“Mmm-hmm, of course that’s what this is about,” a smirk on your face, figuring ou what has got him so worked up. “Why you so worried about money? Saving up for your next attempt at an Alpha kid that’s not gonna happen?”

“Don’t think I don’t know about you and that vicious bitch of a woman, you been costin’ me more money than what these pills are worth for years,” he spits.

“Pills you put me on,” you accuse. The argument ceases almost immediately when you hear the tell-tale ring of the bell at the front of the shop.

“You gonna pay me what I’m owed, or no?”

You want to refuse on principle alone, but you’re so close to being free from all of it, so you don't want to risk it so soon. But you know the kind of trouble something like that could dredge up for you specifically. So it’s with a heavy heart that you agree to pay for them once you get paid for the next movie.

But if your father is good at one thing, it’s believing in his own myth of being the big tough, and in charge Alpha. That you as an Omega will have no choice but to obey his will, even as he hands over the very tool that negates his influence over you.

You have no intention of ever paying him a single goddamn cent of any of it. You’re only on them because of him, and if he wants to scream and holler about how you owe him money, but he won’t be able to do a damn thing, lest he out himself as well.

Besides, you'll be long gone by the time he wises up to the fact that you won’t be paying.

Now there’s only one more letter you need, and it’s not as easy as you would have hoped for. After getting your medicine, you take a few days to really pluck up the courage to do so. He’s been a lot testier these last few days, as was to be expected considering the circumstances.

If all goes well you’ll be able to work on this final movie together with him, before you part ways, and leave with the crew back to California. If not… well you’ll probably just start making your trip far earlier than expected.

You find him in the upstairs office, looking through mail, a stony expression on his face, but it lightens considerably when he sees you with the food Gladys has sent you up with. Well, more like you insisted on taking it up as you’ve been hoping to catch him in a good mood, as there are few things on this Earth that put him in a better one than his mama’s cooking.

“Sorry to bother you E,”

“Ain’t no bother,” he insists, moving some papers out of view to make way for the dish. “I’m tryin’ to get a head count for how big a house I need on base in Texas.”

“How many you at now?”

“Including you? 7,” he says casually, taking a bite out of his food.

“Why would you include me?” You say genuinely confused.

He pauses at that, positively shocked by your response, until a grins splits his face and he gives a short huff of a laugh. “You almost had me there, Y/N,” he chuckles at your apparent antics, settling back into his affable disposition.

You swallow nervously at that, “That’s actually kinda what I came to talk to you about. I-I got offered a job from Paramount out west to work for them, but they’re saying I nee-”

“Jokes over,” he declares, his smile dropping a little, bypassing what you were trying to say. “You got me, alright?”

“... Not alright, Elvis,” you state trying to get your point across. “I’m trying to tell you I’m getting another jo-”

“Y/N,” he says, cutting off your plea, the look in his eyes familiar, but you’ve never had the misfortune of it being directed at you. “Quit the jokin’ now,” he says, his tone severe which you do not care for one bit, but you have to tread lightly if you want to get his sign off.  

“I’m serious Elvis… this… this probably isn’t the best time,” you sigh, for once in your life trying to be careful with your words. “Th-the studio needs letters from former bosses to know that I can do the job, an-and I was hoping you could write one for me.”

The tension hangs thick between the two of you once you are finally able to make your point. You swallow nervously but you don’t sway and inch as he stands from his desk.

“If this is a ploy to get a raise,” he said coldly. “You win Y/N, I’ll pay ye’ whatcha want?”

“No Elvis…” you sigh, trying to keep a cap on your frustration. “You’re not listening. I’ve got a new job lined up in Hollywood, I just need you to write a letter for them telling you I can..” you trail off seeing the expression of fury in his face.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now Y/N!?!?”

“I think we’ve established that I’m not joking right now,” you say bitingly, your hatred of being yelled at overriding all other things.

“So what… you’re gonna leave me high and dry when I need ya’ the most!?” He says, something akin to heartbreak painting his features.

“Why do you gotta say it like that? Like I’m breaking up with you?” you argue, not liking how he’s making this a bigger deal than it is. “It ain’t like you’re gonna need a make-up girl while you’re doing drills.”

“But I’m gonna need you!” He asserts, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Oh don’t be like that,” you tell him, literally shrugging him off. “It’s not like I’m gonna be able to live on base with you.

“Then we don’t gotta live on base.” he waves away, as though it were that simple.

“Elvis… I don’t wanna go with you,” you say simply leaving it at that leaving no room for him to argue the logistics of it. It hurts but you know you gotta get out now while the getting is good, because if you wait any longer, he’ll be the one that leaves first and that will be all the worse. For the first time in your life, you want to be the one that walks away on your own terms. “E, I-I gotta go where the work is,” you try to justify.

“So that’s it ain’t it,” he says, his pursed lips turning into a frown. “this was all just a job to you and you’re leaving cuz there ain’t one no more?” he shakes his head at you, disappointment evident on his face.

That… that cuts deep. That he can reduce not only his role in your life like that without guilt, as though you’ve been playing the longest con in history, when you first decided to defend a scrawny 12 year old from his nay-saying music teacher.

“Yes Elvis, if that’s what you want to hear,” you say without a hint of hesitation, willing your tears not to fall now of all times. “This has all just one big job for me, has been since the very beginning. Now there ain’t no job to have and I gotta fucking move on with my life because I don’t fucking need you anymore!” It doesn’t feel great as it leaves your mouth, and the angry tears streaming down your face prove it.

Nor does it get any better when you watch him stagger a bit at that, as though he had just been shot, even taking a hold of the corner of his desk for full effect. A million emotions pass through his face in seconds until he eventually lands on pure unadulterated fury. “Get out! I don’t wanna fuckin’ look at you right now!” he shouts dismissing you, his hands shaking as though itching to wring your neck.

“You got it Boss,” you say bitingly while giving a sarcastic curtsey, to which you turn around and walk out of the room, paying no mind to the destructive sounds coming from behind you. In spite of the biting cold outside your rage is keeping you warm as you pace back and forth along the back patio, trying to figure out your next move.

You’ve had your fights with Elvis before, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen so upset past the point of not wanting to talk with you. Even the biggest blow out between the two of you was exactly that, when he had walked in on you with that Beta who served cotton candy.  

“Well now you know what I’d do for cotton candy,” you tried to joke after they had left, but Elvis proceeded to scream in your face, asking how dare you do something like this to him. You’d seen his territorial side before, as you’re not stupid enough to actually believe there isn’t anything behind all the times he’d casually pick you up and take you away when you happened to be talking to some Beta. But you did not care for being screamed at whatsoever, so you packed your things and proceeded to walk to the nearest bus station. You proved yourself to be far more stubborn than him, as you walked down the road, ignoring his demands that you get into the car as it crawled at a near snail’s pace to keep up with you, and talk you out of going back to Memphis.

As the cars lined up and started honking, you refused him still, even his threats to throw you into the trunk if need be, you didn’t falter. It wouldn’t be any sweat for him to do so, what with that crazy alpha strength of his, but you both knew that would hardly be the end of it if he resorted to that. Finally as the bus terminal got within view did he finally crack and promised to never yell at you like that again.

“You drive me up the goddamn wall, Y/N,” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“You love it,” you declared, glad to finally be able to rest your feet, having picked the worst shoes to walk in.

“Yeah… I do,” he sighs and looks over at you from the driver's side. There is a bit of an awkward pause as you find your faces much closer than you remembered and he glances down at your lips.

“God, I’m starving. I don’t know about you,” you quickly say, turning your torso fully around to look out your window, trying to break the tension. “But I could go for a bite and I think I saw a diner up ahead.”

You hear him clear his throat, as he hoarsely replies with a simple “Yeah.” By the time the two of you returned to the motel, you’re the best of friends once more, and neither of you ever mentioned that awkward bit again.

You had hoped after all this time he would’ve let go of that weird possessiveness he has over you. With all the girls that he could have, why do you matter to him so much? You know you’re good with makeup, but you know so are many other girls. And he is capable of opening up to them as he does with you if only he ever got his head out of his ass.

Christmas Eve, Gladys spends the day cooking up a storm, roping in you and Dodger, determined to make this the best Christmas yet. Elvis is still not talking to you but you do find him when you’re looking for your purse, and you watch briefly as he stares deeply into the fireplace, something he’s been doing a lot since your fight.

But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that you have anything to apologize for. You’ll be leaving with or without his permission… which you absolutely do not need either way. And if he chooses to end your friendship like this, then so be it.

Hell if need be you’ll go over his head and ask the Colonel for a letter. You have no doubt that if it means getting you away from Elvis, the Colonel will write nothing short of a glowing review and personally hand deliver it to Paramount.

Christmas day comes and everyone and their mother is over to celebrate. Everybody is living it up and trying their best to not acknowledge the big ole’ elephant in the room. Elvis seemed to be in higher spirits though as he proceeded to act like nothing was amiss, trying to make this a good Christmas for all. It’s almost as though the weather itself knew his plans for a perfect Christmas with the fresh blanket of snow that covered the outside.

Everyone tries to follow suit with keeping up the festive denial, though it doesn’t take long of the both of you obviously avoiding each other for seemingly everyone to notice something is wrong. Some point blank ask what happened between the two of you.

Some of the guys, weirdly enough, ask if you’re feeling sick, which is an odd experience considering that their eyes tend to slide right over you most days. You find yourself compulsively checking yourself in any available surface over and over again, trying to figure out what had them questioning your state. Nothing is out of place, your makeup is flawless and your outfit is perfectly coordinated and festive.

You look beautiful and nothing is wrong. You’re hoping if you repeat that enough times you’ll start to believe that.

You eventually call it a night after a few hours though not before presents are exchanged and you get the pleasure of seeing Elvis' eyes go a bit glassy once he puts on the new coat you got for him only to find the pockets filled with Gum and Guitar strings, because as upset as you are with him you’re not about to break tradition.

By the time you make it back to your room you all but pass out fully dressed on top of your sheets, and you feel the slightest twinge of guilt when you wake up wrapped in Elvis' old Crown Electric Jacket. You don’t really get a chance to dwell on that too much though as after taking your suppressant, do you notice the noise- or better yet the lack thereof.  

Graceland is many things but it is definitely never quiet, you learned that early on into moving in. There was always something happening, someone visiting, and something new to do, with the occasional errant chicken running around the house, so it takes not even an hour that first day for you to notice the silence.

It’s almost like a ghost town on the floor below, with the only soul to be found, being the head of this household idling away at the piano. You’re about to head back to your room, wanting absolutely none of this until you hear a “Y/N?” from the piano room. You silently curse his uncanny knack for sniffing you out when others couldn’t, while simultaneously breathing an internal sigh of relief that he no longer sounds angry at you.

“Yeah it’s me E,” you state as you walk into the room, resolved to whatever fate you had signed yourself up for.

He turns around to see you see his face flushed and his eyes puffy, no doubt he’s been having trouble sleeping again.

“Y/N… we’re close right,” he asks genuinely, and you know that that boss comment hurt him deeply.

“We’ve both seen each other without makeup, absolutely nothing is closer than that.” you answer.

That gets a chuckle out of him at least, and it’s almost a relief to hear it after going without it for so long. “How many years we been knowin’ each other?” he asks solemnly, as you sit next to him on the piano bench.

It’s as you're saying 8 do you actually realize how long it’s been. “Time is one sneaky sonuvabitch,” you say, your eyes still wide at the revelation.

He laughs a bit at your reaction, “It sure is,” he says. The next look you can’t quite read as he says, “That's 8 years of believing in my dream longer than even I did at some points.” His eyes wide and his face soft.

You’re very uncomfortable at the amount of vulnerability being shown right now and you quickly course correct by lightly moving his chin with your fist and saying, “Hey now don't chu go gettin’ soft on me Presley,” you say, laughing to mask your nervousness.

He takes your hand in his as he says “What I’m tryin’ ta say Y/N, is th-that it’s been 8 years of you supportin’ me in whatever way I needed.” He gives a sad smile at this, before he continues, “I figure it’s ‘bout time I pay that back. I’ll write whatcha need darlin’.”

You’re stunned at this, truly having believed you would be the first to crack. But here he is, subverting expectations as usual. You’re not the most physically affectionate person, you’ll admit, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge to hug him. Not the obligatory side hugs you give on occasion, nor the awkwardly stiff stance when someone hugs you. This is a full on arms-behind his neck bury your face in his neck kind of hug, as you squeal you thank yous over and over to him.

You remember yourself, you pull away slightly once you feel his hands on your lower back tenderly holding you to him, and with your hands on his chest you look at him directly in the face. His eyes gazing up at you, a soft smile on his plush lips, his breathing steady and strong, as opposed to yours which hitches in your throat.

You clear your throat, “Say where is everybody?” you ask casually releasing yourself from his grip and turning your attention toward the window, which showcased the freshly fallen untouched snow of December.

He approaches you from behind and idly places a warm hand on your shoulder, before saying“I let everyone know I need some alone time and I didn’t really wanna see anyone, till we hear back ‘bout the deferment.”

“Shit sorry,” you say, quickly trying to get up. “I’lll get outta your hair,” you say, only for his grip on your shoulder to slip down to your waist.

“You’re not just anyone to me Y/N,” he drawls, his face far closer than necessary.

"Okay weirdo," you say, turning away hoping your face isn’t radiating how warm you’re feeling. You focus your attention on the snow covered lawn before you declare, "But if this ends up like the Donner's, I'm eating you first."

That gives him pause and you see as he purses his lips, clearly trying to hide a smile before he leans in real close to your ear. You don’t fully understand why your heart seemingly skips a beat as he says in a husky drawl, "Not if I don't eat you first."

There was the briefest of moments when you feel your face heat up at his tone until you roll your eyes at him and move him and his stupid little lip bite away from you. You turn around and try to leave the room, content that your little orphan angry ass isn’t going to be thrown out into the snow just yet. But before you can do so, you feel him grab a hold of your wrist, “ain’tcha cold like that darlin’?”

You look down only to be reminded that you had not in fact dressed for the weather today and your short-sleeve blouse and light skirt reflect that. Though oddly you don’t feel the least bit cold, and you feel mildly perturbed as to how in fact you are feeling very comfortable like this. Though of course you hide your concern by saying “You forget, I’m cold-blooded Presley.”  

“Of course you lil’ lizard you,” he says with a smile on his face, as he’s taking off his own jacket. “But mama would have my hide if she found out I let you walk around like that and get sick,” and he drapes the warm material around your shoulders, and then chucks you under your chin to look at him. In spite of your supposedly “cold-blood” you feel uncharacteristically warm as he looks at you.

You quickly make your way back to your room, to open up that secret compartment of your purse to find your suppressants. You take them religiously and know exactly how many you should have left by this point, and you’re relieved to find the correct amount left. You quickly think back to everything that you’ve eaten in the last few days, and nothing sticks out to you that would have affected them and you don’t drink whatsoever so it couldn’t be any of that.

Finally you’re left with no choice but to chalk it up as nothing but you being paranoid. You decide to read on the couch, and somehow between the warmth of his jacket and the soft notes he’s playing, you find yourself in a hypnotic trance and you give into the heavy feeling of your eyelids.

You’re later startled awake when you feel something hit you squarely in the face, confused until the snow begins to melt on you and you feel the cool burn of the cold water on your chest. Elvis is laughing his ass off seeing you like this and nimbly dodges when you throw one of your house slippers at him.

“There were easier ways of wakin’ me up,” you remark through your exasperation.

“Ain’t one of ‘em as funny though,” he says slyly, and you roll your eyes, but your sigh tells him you can’t help but agree. “‘Sides that Twilight show’s ‘bouta start, and I knew you woulda done worse if I let you miss it.”

You’re surprised at that, and as you look out to the dreary looking sky you see that it has in fact been more than a few hours since you’ve been asleep. But it hardly feels like any time has passed between now and then as you still feel like you could sleep for another few hours or even days. You quickly disregard these thoughts though as he tells you it’s only a matter of time before your favorite shows starts.

You take a seat next to him just in time to catch the beginning of Twilight Zone, placing the popcorn between the two of you. You have always loved scary stories like this, and Elvis loved scaring you when you got too wrapped up in the stories. Low and behold as you’re anxiously waiting for Inger Stevens to come across the hitchhiker once again, you feel his cool hands grasp at your side making you all but jump out of your skin.

“I hate you,” you say mulishly as he continues to laugh. Though he doesn’t remove his arm from around your waist which takes your full focus off of the screen, as you look down at his hand curled around your side. You move slightly away from him only for his grip to tighten and you’re pulled even further into him until you're all but sitting on his lap. You’re viscerally reminded of Prom and wonder briefly if he even remembers that night anymore, or if it’s become lost in the shuffle amongst all of the other girls he’s had over the years, and an ugly feeling of jealousy shoots through you in that moment.

“Oh there’s the popcorn,” you say, as you use your whole body to stand up and get off of his lap. You grab it and rather than get back on the couch, you sit yourself on the floor, clutching the bowl in front of yourself as though it were a shield, as Perry Mason was just about to start. You’re hesitant to look at him right now, until he reaches down and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

“Wait I know how this one ends,” Elvis says, with a cheeky grin. “Perry Mason wins.”

He’s just a naturally touchy person, you justify to yourself, don’t read too much into it. “It’s not about if, it’s how goddamnit,” you assert, with a smile on your face. As the show continues you hardly notice when Elvis makes his way to the floor or when he casually throws an arm around your shoulder, though that’s mostly due to the fact that by the half-way mark of the episode, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Even finding yourself leaning on him more and more, and if you weren’t so tired you would wonder why, considering that you spent most of the day napping.

No, you just find yourself silently grateful for that crazy Alpha strength of his to carry you to bed, your bed feeling more comfortable than you can ever remember it as you settle in.

Waking up to find Elvis in your bed is not unusual. Waking up to him under the sheets with you holding you around your waist is rare but occasionally does happen.  Waking up to find that you’re in his bed as he nuzzles his nose into your neck with a handful of your ass while… something… pokes your belly, absolutely unheard of.

You try to peel his hand off and carefully remove yourself from his grip, only for him to roll over fully on top of you and bury himself between your breasts. You stop breathing entirely for a moment, too worried that any sort of chest-heaving may wake him and make this whole situation all the more uncomfortable. Part of you wishes to go back to sleep and hope that this was simply a bad dream, but as he shifts you feel his thigh place itself firmly by your core, the action so sudden and shocking that you audibly gasp.

You feel him stir at that and your face is burning, embarrassed by this whole ordeal, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get as he plants a sleepy kiss on your neck and removes himself from you. You think you’ve reached new heights of humiliation, until you find him between your thighs and feel one of his hands start to travel up your skirt.

This has got to be a dream, you think.

“Ok, you’ve had your fun,” you say, trying not to make your skittishness so apparent. “You can quit it now,” but then his other hand travels further up and you’re almost too distracted to notice its twin hook on to your panties and begin to drag them down. And before you can make any noise of protest, it turns into a surprised squeak as you feel his hot breath waft over your now naked cunt. You’re frozen in place as to what the hell is going on, both fearful and hopeful as to what he’s about to do next.  

Those seconds seem to drag on for hours, there’s nothing stopping you from closing your legs or even covering yourself with your hands, but neither of these occur to you. Instead you lay there paralyzed as he further parts your thighs and using his tongue lightly trace up the seam of your cunt.

That sends you into overdrive and removes any possibility that this is a dream, as he languidly tongues your core. Your hips almost immediately buck up but he keeps you down with a forearm across your lower belly, as he tenderly nurses at your clit.

You grab at his hair but that only seems to further invigorate him, as his groans seem to reverberate off of your walls and he goes from focusing on that bundle of nerves, to delving lower and lower to that seldom explored entrance of your cunt. You restlessly try to push his head away from you, but your thighs apparently have a mind of their own as they box him in when you feel the tip of tongue lightly trace the rim of your fluttering hole.

His tongue, you are learning, has talents well beyond singing as you feel that wicked muscle eagerly delve into what little access you have (reluctantly?) granted him. The pleased hums he’s making, demonstrating how much he’s enjoying the act don’t help either.

Eventually you find your hands running through the hair that you, probably more than anyone in the world, are most intimately familiar with, even seeing the hint of his light roots that you’ve neglected to touch up in the last few days. You’re at the very least glad that the two of you are alone in the house, because you doubt you would have been able to muffle the downright filthy sounds coming out of your mouth.

The noises you’re making seem to only spur him further, as his thumb goes from an unhurried pace to a far more goal-oriented motions as his tongue goes rigid and plunges as deep as it could go and then, almost playfully, wiggles within you.

You’re left seeing stars, your pussy clamping down around his tongue, though he removes it almost immediately in order to prolong your euphoria by sucking on that little button of yours.

Even after all of that, you still held out hope that this was some weird sleepwalking episode and somehow feeling another warm body, he was going off of instincts until he removes himself from your pussy, nonchalantly wiping his mouth with his thumb, and looks you right in the eye with a look that tells you he has an appetite that has only been mildly wetted.

“Guess I ate ya’ first darlin’,” he remarks with a very sweet kiss to your lips, as though he didn’t just make you have the best orgasm of your life. God you’re so familiar with these lips, yet it still takes you by surprise as to how soft they feel against your own. You’re only human so lord forgive if you wish to indulge in the fantasy of perhaps every teenage omega in the country. But quickly you gain your bearings, remembering that as far as he’s concerned, you’re a Beta through, and through.

It kills you a little to remove yourself, breathing raggedly as you try to come to grips with what is happening. His eyes are blown out entirely, and he licks his lips as though you’re a meal waiting to be devoured, but even then you instinctively know he’s seeing you as you are.

This trance you’re both in is broken by the shrill ring of the phone from the upstairs office. He gives a soft curse, before he rolls out of bed and casually walks out of the room. You’re left leaning against the pillows. Looking up at the ceiling, utterly shell-shocked, mindlessly fixing your skirt to cover up your bare pussy as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.

But it’s as you’re doing that does an unbearable fire come upon you. A terrible fever emanating from your lower belly overwhelms you and as you helplessly inch out of his bed every instinct within you is screaming how bad of an idea that actually is. Every step away from that bed is agony, as though you’re wading through lava, away from any safe haven you may have found. Even trying to move your panties back into place feels scalding and you’re left with no choice but to remove them completely, leaving you completely accessible. You shiver at the thought, and not from the cold.

Briefly you wonder if maybe Elvis had something to do with this sickness you’re experiencing, but as you feel a throbbing emptiness from deep within you, do you realize that this is in fact a long ignored part of yourself that is simply roaring back to life. You finally recognize what exactly this is and recognize what sort of trouble you’re in.

You skittishly look out the door and, finding the office door closed with his voice behind it, you make a quick beeline to the staircase, and from there dash to your room, where you quickly barricade yourself in with your vanity table. And in the mirror are you forced to face what you are. Your eyes blown out, your clothes wrinkled and disheveled, the makeup you neglected to take off before bed smudged, sweat running from the warmth emanating from within you, and your whole body trembling under the effort to not flip over the table and run directly back to him. Not to mention the slippery feeling of your thighs as your slick runs freely, unhindered by any. You look at the very image of the idyllic debauched Omega and you finally recognize something is very wrong.

You have never in your life neglected to take your suppressant a day in your life, and quickly counting them, you find no extras, so that’s clearly not the case. It is as you are doing a double count do you realize something off about them. Looking directly at your suppressants underneath the light, they looked off. They were a slightly more yellowish white than they usually are and picking one up to inspect it, your nail catches the edge of it and it crumbles a bit. Neither of these things bode well for you. You desperately look for your extra doses of suppressants only to find them missing.

That’s when it goes from less than ideal to utter nightmare territory. You don’t know how nor do you know why, but your suppressants are no longer effective and you may very well be hurdling full force into heat, alone in a home with an unmated, virile Alpha. You immediately get to packing what you can, trying to figure out your best means of escape.

You try to assess your options as to where you can go for the next few days, but with all your options being either Alphas or out of town, you have no choice but to go back to your father. But your most pressing issue as of right now is how you’re going to get out of this room. Your windows are sealed shut, so you’re left with no choice but to venture out back into the house and pray he’s still upstairs.

You’ve done your best to ignore the steady stream of slick that has been running between your thighs, but the idea that he’s out there somewhere, causes a new rush of it to burst out, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you lose all restraint and give in to what your biology is demanding of you.

You made a beeline for the front door, your mind determined to make it out of Graceland but it was upon actually getting to the front door do you find your hands hesitating for a second. Some latent part of yourself really questions if it would be so bad to be his, questions why you have to fight it when he’s been nothing but good to you.

But it was your moment of hesitation that gave enough time for a familiar ringed hand to slam the door shut on you. “Baby, there you are,” despite the door now shutting out the cold, you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Elvis I-I-I,” you swallow, his scent so heady and powerful you can almost taste him on the back of your tongue. “I need to leave.”

“I just got the good news,” he states, completely blowing past what you just said. “They granted me the deferment for the movie.”

“Elvis, I’m begging you,” you plead, as a bruising grip on your wrist forces you to let go of your packed bag. You’ve only ever cried once in your life in front of him, but now the tears flow freely down your face.

“Don'tchu worry your pretty little head ‘bout anythin’ darlin’,” he coos, wiping the tears from your cheek. “You go where I go, ain’t nothin’ gonna change ‘bout that.”

Even after all the time that had passed, you can still vaguely taste yourself on him, not an unpleasant taste, but your thoughts quickly turn to wondering how he would taste, or better yet how the both of you would taste together. The kiss becomes heavier and deeper as you wrap your arms around him and boldly run your tongue over those sharp canines of his, some masochistic part of you demanding to press harder.

Your chest is heaving, needing more oxygen than you personally think is necessary, and yet you find yourself giving pathetic little whimpers as he leaves your lips in favor of marking a trail of kisses down your body.

He kneels down before you, burying his face in the crevice between your thighs, the only barrier between you and him, being the thin material of your skirt. It was only then did you notice the brief relief from the fever you felt, all due to his close proximity. “You smell ripe for the pickin’ sweetheart,” he breathes out in a raspy tone, looking up at you as though he were in prayer, as his hand drags the zipper of your skirt down. It slips down fully with only the slightest of tugs, and your left trembling, bare from the waist down in front of him, as your thighs shift uneasily the slick that’s gathered making it all the easier.

You try not to look down at him, as though that will stop what’s happening right now. His tongue is now collecting every trace of your wetness it could find and just barely missing where you feel you need him most, to which you’re not afraid to voice your disapproval of.

“Don’t mind if I take the first bite,” he whispers, the tip of a canine barely scraping the smooth skin of your thigh. It’s that contact that reminds you what exactly is at stake here. Without warning you do your best to push him to the ground. He’s caught off guard but manages to catch himself before he lands on his ass, but the momentary surprise gives you just enough room to slip out.

You are about to sprint all the way back to your room, hoping to lock yourself in, until you feel an iron-like grip on your ankle. You’re barely able to catch yourself with your hands, but you're quickly dragged backwards. You desperately claw at the carpets, trying to find some kind of purchase only for him to grab a hold of both your wrists in one hand.

And that’s that. You’re thoroughly wrangled, no means of escape and no one coming to save you. You recognize how thoroughly fucked you are (or ar going to be) and that really no point in fighting it anymore, but you can’t even trust yourself enough to say that it wasn’t intentional on some level.

Let it never be said you’re not stubborn until the very end.

“Now I didn’t appreciate that one bit,” he hisses at you, and you hear the tell the shifting of fabric as he moves his pants down his hips, still holding your wrists down.

“Please Elvis,” you say desperately, only managing to wiggle your hips slightly which doesn’t help your case whatsoever. His hand is now splayed along your lower belly, as he lifts your hips into a new position to you, your cheek still stuck to the carpet. “You don’t want to do this,” you sob hoping he’s not too far gone, though with the way he groans at the feeling of your warm ass on the underside of his cock, even you understand there’s nothing that’s going to stop this from happening.

“What I want is ta tan your hide, for denyin’ me this sweet little pussy a yours for all these years,” he growls hungrily next to your ear, and those words shouldn’t have you keening and writhing like you were, but they do and you are. “But we’ll save that when it won’t be so pleasant for you. ‘Sides your cunt is achey enough already, ain’t it?” he purrs, the head of him prodding at your core, barely catching the rim of your entrance.

“Yes, oohh yes Elvis,” you whine, pathetically. “Please-”

You can’t say for certain whether or not you were gonna continue to deny him, all you can say is that all thoughts or hesitations seem to melt away as you feel him push himself in. Your eyes threaten to roll back all the way into your head, it felt so good. You're practically dripping wet at this point, but even still the girth is still something to contend with, as you’ve never had to handle equipment this big before, and at the angle you’re at you can’t quite make-out how much more of this you’ll have to take.

Elvis though is about as patient as he could be under the circumstances. He’s like steel wrapped in velvet, silky yet unyielding, as he sinks into you like hot butter, until finally his hips meet your ass. His heavy member has found a home in your cunt, and with the patience of a goddamn saint, he waits until your moans and groans aren't so ambiguous, and has the sound of a woman enjoying herself.

You’re low groan when he moves out, turns into a high-pitched shriek when he slams back into you. You sympathized with him when the papers started calling him The Pelvis but now being here underneath him , you can’t think period, let alone think of a more fitting nickname considering how well he’s wielding his to go at a harsh yet tender pace behind you.

In his rutting frenzy, he’s seemingly forgotten his hold on your wrists, but you in turn have abandoned your initial fervor to get away from him. You find yourself pushing backwards, desperate to keep him inside as best you can, frantically rubbing tight little circles on your clit with a single-mindedly chasing release, while you push off your other hand and try to meet his thrusts.

But he hasn’t quite gotten over that sadistic streak of his as he stops mid thrust and holds your waist preventing you from moving any further. You want to cry, you were so close, but the part of you that wants to be good and obey him wins out over the willful side of you, and you bury your forehead into the carpet. And as still as you can manage, you wait with bated breath for his next move.

“I tried bein’ nice ‘bout it, let you come to me,” he whispers in your ear as he moves the collar of your shirt out of the way, kissing the newly exposed skin. “But you gotta be so goddamn stubborn ‘bout everything,'' He hisses and you feel his warm breath waft on the back of your neck, and you know what’s coming next. You’ve dreaded this happening for years, but it’s so much worse than you ever could have imagined, because it’s coming from the last person you expected. You feel his lips curl into a small smile against your skin, and you feel the light scrape of one of his canines against your skin. “But I ain’t about ta have you any other way.” And without wasting another moment, he sinks his teeth into your neck marking you as his until the end of your days.

The sheer amount of pleasure and pain surging through your body makes you feel everything and nothing at all. All that registers really is the euphoric feeling as to where the two of you are joined together -at long last- so you didn’t miss a single moment as you feel the base of his cock start to swell. You're so startled that you try to pathetically crawl away only for him to take a hold of your still sore hips and bring you flush against him, as he seemingly grows and grows within you, well past what you ever thought could have fit up there.

You briefly black out for a moment not so much reaching your peak, but being rocketed to heights beyond what you could have ever imagined. Longer and more intense than you’ve ever been able to achieve, with a partner or otherwise, you’re a shivering pile of flesh, no longer tied to another worldly want other than the man behind you.

His moans are pure ecstasy, his hands undoubtedly leaving bruises on your hips, and his member resting heavy inside of you. Even though, on some level, you know it’s a fool's errand, you nonetheless try to separate yourself from him only to be given a painful reminder why this thing was often described as being “locked in.” You could feel yourself already stretched past your limit, refusing to let go of him, and you hear him groan from the new sensation, as tears flow down your cheeks from the pain.

What’s worse is that when you finally give up and snap back into place do you both shudder at the sensation as he reaches some part deep inside of you. You black out for a moment from going from intense pain to immense pleasure almost immediately can do that to you only to now find yourself on your side with Elvis behind lazily rocking his hips into yours as he leaves blistering kisses where he can and scorching trails everywhere else he could reach.

You’re left with no choice but to stay put and try not to enjoy every roll of his hips against yours, though you stubbornly bite your own lip to prevent yourself from making any noises, approving or otherwise. But this plan quickly falls apart as your mulish defiance of him and his wants are nothing compared to the swift slap on your pussy that causes you to bite down hard on your own lip. Your stupid protruding canine gets your lip, and upon your instinctual cry and release of your lip do you begin to taste the coppery flavor of your own blood. You attempt to hide your face only for him to grab a hold of your jaw, only to lick up the small trail of blood to your chin. You’re way past being able to be shocked by him anymore, and simply choose to relish in this sinful act, with a man who has been trying to clean up his image for the past few months.

If you had to guess, you’re like that for roughly an hour, until finally he’s at a size where you're finally able to remove yourself from him without discomfort, other than the veritable flood that comes gushing out of you without his cock to keep all of it in. Towards the end, he had shifted you so that you were back on your knees, your head resting on your forearms, with your ass in the air and you could only watch mesmerized as a small stream of his milky white seed runs down your thigh only to stop where your knee meets the floor where it proceeds to disappear into the ivory carpet beneath you.

You hear him purr behind you, apparently just as captivated by the show your pussy is giving him. In one swift motion you find yourself on your back and as he follows the path his cum had trailed down your leg, back to its source. You gasp as you feel him dip his fingers back into you and he hooks some of the seed out of your cunt only to use your now open mouth to stick them in there.

It’s almost like a switch goes off in your head with that first real taste of him. You no longer try to fight with yourself, not even choosing to give in really, because with the way you're feeling right now it’s not even really a choice anymore.

“Anything that ain’t goin’ into your pretty pussy is goin’ in that smart mouth a yours, you understand lil’ mama?” he purrs, satisfied as your tongue splits his fingers trying to get every single drop of him you could. “We don’t wanna let any of this go to waste now do we?”

“No,” you cry desperately, truly ashamed as to what you’re becoming. But you have no time for those thoughts as he surprises you by returning back down to your pussy.

“Keep your mouth open,” he orders between your thighs, words slightly muffled as they are against your lower lips. You're confused as to what he’s doing until he gives a light press on your lower belly and his cum gushes out of your poor abused hole and into his waiting mouth. He takes what comes out before he crawls back up to you to get a hold of your jaw, a dangerous look set in his eyes.

You dutifully do as he says and open up. Once that hot, heady flavor of your combined fluids hits your tongue you’re gone, without ego and fully submitting yourself not only to him but the primitive Omega brain that wants nothing more than to be his. You even wrap your arms around his neck to bring his lips to yours, so that the two of you could fully share this obscene cocktail that you both have managed to create.

“Aww baby,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours. “We wasted so much goddamn time not doin’ this.” In your state of mind you can’t help but agree.

He takes you on just about every available surface of the house, and you truly believe that the only reason he didn’t venture outward was due to how cold it was. If you had the capacity to think beyond seeking your next release you would feel ashamed as to what everybody will undoubtedly smell when they return. But all you could really focus on at any given moment was how good he felt inside you, or tasted on your tongue.

As frantic as he was to keep as much cum inside of you as possible, he also seemed to gain a specific kind of pleasure seeing you drip with his seed and having you swallow it in penance. You can’t get enough of any part of him and he makes good on his promise as to where his cum would go (where it belongs,) and for a solid week you are sustained almost solely on that save for whatever Elvis can scrounge from the kitchen. There’s almost a soft melancholy when you swallow him, as though he’s truly saddened over the lost potential of that particular load, as though he’s not stuffing you full of it seemingly every hour.

But in your haze you were all too happy to take what he could give you, you cunt greedy for all that he can give you.

And it’s underneath him that you learn about Alpha anatomy. Knotting, as you learn it’s officially called, is something Elvis can only do two to three times a day before he has to rest. Doesn’t stop him from trying every single time, nor does it stop him from having you

It becomes easier and easier each time, until you find yourself after each peak desperately grinding on to him, hoping that his knot would make a reappearance and make you feel whole. By the third day you even find yourself falling asleep with it within you, finding the fullness comforting, as though reassuring you that he won’t disappear on you in such a vulnerable state. The few times he’s left the bed you’re left a helpless, writhing mess desperate for him, even when he’s promised you he would be gone only for a few minutes. Part of you thinks he leaves more often than strictly necessary, considering the smug look he gives seeing you so needy for him and practically begging for his cock as you fruitlessly tried to replicate that sense of fullness only he could give.

“Empty,” you mewl, at this point incapable of full sentences.

He’s decided to torture you a bit rubbing the head of his cock on your clit. The hand splayed on your soft stomach prevents you from moving too much, wanting to take his time with you. Your whimpering begging for what you want desperate

“You ain’t ever gonna feel that way again,” he whispers through his kisses along the mark he left. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, ain’t no way you won’t be carryin’ my baby. Ain’t that whatchu want sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you cry desperately, willing to agree to anything, if he would only give you what you wanted, perhaps marking one of the few times he’s won a battle of wills against you.

You’re more animal than woman that week, a slave to her desires, a creature whose sole purpose is to be fucked and have his babies, if Elvis’ whisperings during this time are to be believed. You worry as to whether or not this more primitive side is due to your lack of experience with being in heat or if this is what to expect from every heat going forward. You feel as though someone else has taken the reins to your body and you’re simply meant to enjoy the ride.

Elvis on the other hand stays aware, and he takes care of you throughout it all, making sure you eat enough and drink water, makes sure your lips don’t dry out, licks at your wounds to help speed up the healing process, etc. You’ve never felt so needy, and you’re barely coherent enough to form complete sentences, and so you show your appreciation by being both as vocal and as obedient as possible.

He usually spends recovery periods licking you clean, though not necessarily where you initially thought he would’ve. You can’t help but conclude his love affair with the taste of your blood considering how much time he spends on the small wounds he’s made all over your body.  In his initial eagerness to explore your body in those first few hours, he had “accidentally” nicked you every so often, the sole exception being the twin crescent marks you can feel on your neck and on your ass, which was clearly nothing less than intentional. Though your state and his efforts have significantly sped up the healing process, you know by the end of this you will be left with a constellation of scars.

“This one” he said lightly running his fingers along the marred skin of your neck. “That one’s for the world baby,” he coos, as he gives it a light kiss, making the slap that lands perfectly on top of the mark on your bottom, all the more surprising. “That one’s just for me and you. So you best not forget who that belongs to.”

“Never,” you sigh happily.

It’s almost funny when you think about it, how the world demands a clean-cut, sexless teen heart-throb, as though a majority of them aren’t also beholden to this primitive state of theirs. Looking at him now above you, his teeth sharp and bared, his grunts and groans echoing throughout the house, the bruises and scratches you’ve been able to leave on his torso, even the stubble you’ve felt more than you’ve seen, all paint a very primal portrait of him. He’s something wild, untameable even, someone who isn’t afraid to show how he is beholden to his own desires and instincts as the rest of the world hid from them, and tried to act like they don’t exist.

If it weren’t for the knot you would be hard-pressed to find much of a difference between this Elvis and the standard one.

By the end of your heat, you’re thoroughly exhausted, you don’t even have the energy to be mad at him anymore. You’ve just resolved yourself to your fate that will forever be tied to the boy you once thought you knew. You don’t even have the luxury of knowing whether these thoughts are your own, and not some long suppressed Omega part of you that simply wants to enjoy the way his calloused guitar hands gently rub the soft part of your lower belly.

But if this week has been about satisfying long-standing desires you’re not about to hold back on your desire for knowledge. Specifically how he discovered your secret.

“I wasn’t ‘bout a let you go without a fight baby,” he whispers, comfortable in not needing to hide anything from you anymore, as you’re thoroughly ensnared. “I was cookin’ up some not so nice plans to keep you by me no matter what. Only for a goddamn Christmas miracle to drop into my lap.” he says, allowing you to make your own pace at which to ride him.

“Your daddy sent me a bill in the mail, and I think you know what he was charging you for, dontcha?” he purrs, lazily thumbing at your clit and watching as your breasts bounced in rhythm with your frantic bucking.

“Bein’ the good mate I am, I let him know that you weren’t gon’ need any of that shit no more,” he says, giving a firm slap on your ass seemingly just because he felt like it. “And I some interestin’ things about them pills. You know what stops them pills from workin’ right?” he asks, lazily rutting into you.

“What?”

“You add a lil’ heat,” he growls, and suddenly his obsession with the fireplace these last few days makes perfect sense.

He spoke to you of how he’s been dreaming of this for years, and how he’s known that you were it for him, even when he thought nothing physical could happen between the two of you.

But even as he spoke, there was an ever present air of inevitability when he spoke to you as to how he envisioned your future together as though this was always meant to happen. And it was only a matter of you catching up to him. Afterall you were the one who taught him to ignore what he didn’t want to hear. And he didn’t want to hear no from you.

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[cripple-punk-dad]

Once again feeling emotions about God, Forgive These Bastards: Songs From The Forgotten Life Of Henry Turner by The Taxpayers. I listened to the whole album not really knowing the background or the story behind the title. I just loved the music and the artist's voices. But then I found the explanation by the main vocalist on the album, Rob Taxpayer, and:

"The first time I met Henry Turner I feared for my life. I remember the exact date – February 18th, 2007 – because the day before, a close friend of mine had unsuccessfully attempted to commit suicide in his studio apartment and I’d spent the entire night at the hospital. It was one of those terrible and typical Pacific Northwest winter nights where the rain seemed relentless and the gloom was contagious, and as I waited at a sheltered bus stop on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard for the # 6 to arrive, a man approached me for a cigarette.

I shook my head and gave him a half-smile.

“Sorry. I quit a few years back.”

I stuck my head back into the newspaper I was reading, and he took a few steps closer.

“How about a buck and a quarter then? All I need is a dollar and a quarter and I’ll have enough for bus fair.”

I shrugged and fumbled around in my pocket.

“I’m using an expired bus transfer myself, but I might have a few extra dimes. It ain’t much, but if it helps, it’s yours.”

I passed him the change, and when he grabbed it, he ducked down to my level and looked me straight in the eyes.

“Look at me. Does it look like a few extra dimes would help? You think a few extra dimes would do any good to anybody? Take a look at me. I got a rotten heart and a bad shoulder and I ain’t slept a good night’s sleep in the past ten years, and you wanna know the kicker? I get fuckers like you tossing me their condescending extra dimes.”

He was tall and intimidating, with wild gray hair and deep wrinkle lines all across his face, and his eyes would occasionally roll up into his head, quiver, and then refocus. His thick, wet coat and his tangled beard had bits of crumpled leaves stuck to them, and he carried himself with the strange confidence of an angry and confused lion.

“And the best part about all of this is that I know you’re cheating me. And you know what I did to the last bastard that cheated me? “

He paused for a few silent, terrifying seconds.

“I bit his ear off.”

I almost pissed my pants. My brain was telling me, “get up and run”, but my body was frozen in fear, and I sat there shaking in excruciating silence. Sure, maybe he was harmless, but something about the look in his eyes terrified me. I could see the bus approaching from about a quarter of a mile away. I did the math. From that distance, it would be another minute or so before the bus arrived, saving me from certain death. I could try to fight back. But while he was an old man, he was an enormous old man, and anyways, you just can’t fight a crazy person. I could run. That was it. I was going to have to get up and run before he sunk his teeth into me, or pulled out a knife, or worse.

Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Not a maniacal laughter, but a booming, good-natured laughter, and his angry eyes became kind and warm. His snarl turned into a crooked smile, and he slapped me on the back like an old friend.

“Aw, I’m just fucking with you, kid. Ain’t much for laughs around here. You’ll have to forgive me.”

He held out his massive hand for me to shake.

“Henry Turner. Friends call me Hank. How ya doin'?”

I was still petrified. Was this some sort of a trick? Was he going to grab my hand and then snap it off like a tree branch? He looked me over and laughed again, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a bus pass.

“Here. This one ain’t expired. Go on, take it, I got a whole stack of ‘em.”

And with that, the bus pulled up to our stop in the rain, the doors opened with a loud mechanical sigh, and Henry held out both his arms, outstretched, in the direction of the doors.

“After you, kid.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was a semi-celebrity around town, although most people wrote him off as just another one of the crazy folks that told rambling, drunken tales – amusing for a few minutes, but best largely avoided. It was true, he had his demons, but he also had a magical brilliant quality to him, and whenever I ran into him around town, I’d end up spending a few hours with him, if for no other reason than to listen to his unbelievable stories. It didn’t really matter whether they were true or not, it was the way he told them, with absolute clarity and confidence, no matter how crazy they sounded. Some of it even checked out. He’d often talk about his years playing baseball with Georgia Tech, and the famous play-off game where he pitched a two-hitter in 1979. When I got home, I went on the internet and looked up the Georgia Tech roster from 1979, and there he was. Henry Turner. I’ll be damned.

The years went by. I’d leave town for months at a time, but when I came home I could always expect to run into Henry for the latest news and a ridiculous tale. Businesses closed and new ones opened, houses changed ownership, new faces arrived and old ones disappeared, but he was like an ancient marble pillar – unaffected by the changes around him. Or so it seemed. In the winter of 2010, three years after we first met, I ran into Henry on one of the downtown park blocks. He was disheveled and had these crazy eyes, and when he recognized me, he touched me on the shoulder and said something to the effect of, “Gonna go away for a while. You’ll hold onto something for me, yeah?”. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a huge stack of unused bus passes, thrust them into my hands, and walked away. It was the last time I would see him.

Henry Turner died on March 25th, 2010, a product of years of substance abuse and tough living. If a funeral was held I wasn’t aware of it. The news of his death hit me harder than expected, and it sparked an obsession: I began compulsively writing down every outlandish and unbelievable story he’d ever told me, as a sort of tribute. My band started working on an album of songs pertaining to Henry’s life. My nights were spent researching everything I could find about the Turner family. I would rant on and on to complete strangers about the whole ordeal. Then slowly, it began to subside. Life went back to normal. Though I never quite forgot about it, my utter entrancement with the Turners faded.

What follows is an amalgamation of the stories Henry told me, as best as I can remember them. I hope I did him justice. There are some embellishments and I took quite a few liberties, but like all good narrators, Henry knew that any story worth telling should be grand, significant, and a little bit false. It’s important to note that Henry was no hero, and I’m not trying to romanticize or defend him – as you’ll find out, he was a murderer, an abusive husband, an unapologetic addict, and a crook who was haunted by his most awful moments. But he was also at times a tender, loving father, a brave adventurer, and an amazing pitcher, who was surprisingly candid and an absolute charm to listen to. No person can be summed up by their worst actions. And despite his insistence that “forgiveness ain’t an inherent human quality”, that’s what this whole thing’s been about for me: the capacity to forgive someone’s most wretched moments.

Ultimately, I think that when Henry was at his best, he was something simple: a kind, strange friend" -Rob Taxpayer, from The Taxpayer's Bandcamp page

Look at me look me in the eyes: "No person can be summed up by their worst actions" I'm broken I'm dead I'm deceased. The last track on the album is an interview with somebody who knew Henry as a child. It's about remembering someone that nobody else thinks about it's about preserving the memory of the jerks and the assholes and the addicts because everyone deserves to be remembered and to have songs sung about them and have their stories told in whatever way they can be told.

[vanderwoodlings]

how do you kill a feeling: a blair/dan playlist (x)

Tracklist and commentary under the cut:

This is also entirely country music, because, uh… I wanted to? And at least one person (hi Liz) seemed into the idea? Generally when it comes to GG, we skew more towards pop than anything else, so it was a fun experiment!

1. “Easy Silence,” The Chicks. And I come to find a refuge in the/Easy silence that you make for me/It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me

2. “Walkin’ After Midnight,” Patsy Cline. [dan voice] I’ve been walking around the city all night with one paralyzing, all-consuming thought

3. “Found It In You,” Tiera Kennedy. The confidence to know that I can be happy/Just ‘cause you tell me that you got me.

4. “Friends Don’t,” Maddie & Tae. [Insert obligatory aromantic disclaimer that Friends Do, Thanks, here.] That aside, this is just… so stupid best friends in pining denial dair-coded

5. “I Try to Think About Elvis,” Patty Loveless. When you’re ass backwards crushing on Blair Waldorf and you would like to not be, please

6. “Hey, Good Lookin’,” Hank Williams. This one was one that just clicked as a dair song at random somewhere—something about the I’m gonna throw my date book over the fence bit especially—and sparked this playlist into being

7. “Lay It On Me,” Mickey Guyton. I want the truth and all your lies/I want your perfectly imperfect

8. “I’ll Be,” Reba McEntire. And mayhaps Dan has a white knight complex. I’ll be the rock that will be strong for you/The one that will hold on to you

9. “Marigold,” Paisley Fields. Marigold, bold and bright/Marigold, through spring and summer/You brighten up my night, marigold

10. “After I Fall,” Lee Ann Womack. And mayhaps Blair is a bit traumatized. After I fall, where do I stand/After my heart is in your hands/And you’ve got it all

11. “cowboy take me away,” Brittney Spencer. This one is in the Vibe—because God knows neither of them want to get out of the city and get dirt on their hands—it’s more something wild and unruly

12. “I Can’t Help It (If I’m Still in Love with You),” Johnny Cash. Dan pining moments

13. “This Kiss,” Faith Hill. I always love story imagery with Blair, so of course we’ve got Cinderella said to Snow White/“How does love get so off course/Oh, all I wanted was a white knight/With a good heart/Soft touch, fast horse.”

14. “Wrecking Ball,” Emmylou Harris. This song’s got the narrator offering a first date if the other person is in, in spite of the lack of privacy she’s got/the things the other person might know, which is very Gossip Girl, but there’s also something about the Meet me at the wrecking ball (wrecking ball)/I’ll wear something pretty and white that feels very Blair

15. “Death Of Me,” Reyna Roberts. Took this barely beating heart and brought it back to life/But this love might be the death of me.

16. “Starting Over,” Chris Stapleton. Gotta give them something good. And, honey, for once in our life/Let’s take our chances and roll the dice

17. “Grow Old with Me,” Sunny Sweeney. They all said we’d never fit so well together/Grow old with me, I’ll keep you young forever

18. “Jolene,” Dolly Parton. I’ve used this as a Blair’s Serena complex song before, way back on the blairena playlist and uh… I was right ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

19. “Milwaukee,” Wyatt Flores. Okay, yeah, wrong city, but—You can hate my eyes for watching you leave/You can hate my should have chased you down feet/…/Please don’t hate my heart

20. “What Brings Life Also Kills,” Kolton Moore & the Clever Few. Dear, I’m writing this for you/As I contemplate tomorrow/Why did it end so soon?

21. “Buddy,” Willie Nelson. S6 dangina hours!!!!

22. “Why’d You Come in Here Lookin’ Like That,” Dolly Parton. Exists in the theoretical Dan slut era of my dreams. He’s out slow dancing with every girl around/I’m a soft-hearted woman, he’s a hardheaded man/And he’s gonna make me feel just as bad as he can

23. “Foolin’ Ourselves,” Evan Honer. Welcome to the dairfair! We get a little chronologically blurry here for the sake of the Sound being right, but I trust y’all to follow along

24. “On the Other Hand,” Randy Travis. On one hand, I could stay and be your lovin’ man/But the reason I must go is on the other hand.

25. “Summertime,” Orville Peck. You and I/Bide our time/And I miss summertime

26. “Satin Sheets,” Tammy Wynette. If Serena gets “Jolene” (or even, sort of, the pseudo-honorable “On the Other Hand”), Chip gets this. Blair canonically sings Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man” about him (which really fucks me up), so I knew she had to be on here somewhere, but I wasn’t expecting something quite so suitable to jump right out. But your money can’t hold me tight/Like he does on a long, long night

27. “Your Someone,” May Erlewine. I thought that I was stronger/I willed myself to be/But love can be so tender/I feel a tenderness in me

28. “To June This Morning,” Ruston Kelly, Kacey Musgraves.

29. “Love is Alive,” The Judds. Love is a man and he’s mine/Love is alive/And at our breakfast table

30. “Love Is A Wild Thing,” Kacey Musgraves. There’s no way to stop it, so don’t try to

[deimosed]

— 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 ? 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 !!

general nsfw headcannons ft. hank . sanford . deimos . doc . phobos .

warnings ; biting (hanks part) , other then that it’s not that bad

authors note ; LOL IMAGINE BEING GONE FOR LIKE 4 WHOLE MONTHS!! ikik im sorry, kinda loss motivation, but tryna get back into it! hope you enjoy <3

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 !! 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈 !!

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 is both a sadist and a masochist. you can not tell me this man wouldn’t use his metal jaw at all while you two are goin’ at it, trust me when i say he’s gonna put it to good use.

he gets so heated when he sees his bite marks on you. he wants to show all the others just who you belong too, so expect to be marked everywhere. everywhere. he’s very territorial when it comes to his stuff, and you’re going to be included.

also LOVESS being marked on himself. he wants you to bite him until he bleeds, and he won’t take anything less. he’ll literally cum his pants immediately when you do, he also likes to show who he belongs too.

this is unpopular, but I just feel like hank would love to be bottomed out. you on top of him bouncing on his hard cock is a sight for sore eyes for him, because he knows full well he could take control if he really wanted to. he could quite literally pick you up and flip you over in seconds, but you have him wrapped around your finger so much that he lays there and enjoys himself. another note, he’s known to be quite selfish, so it makes since for him to lay there in lust while you do all the moving.

but don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean he’s in it for himself either. hank absolutely adores to see your face in euphoria. when your eyes roll at the back on your head as he fucks into you makes it intoxicating for himself as well. he’s so determined to have you yell out his name, and rivals at the fact that he’s the one making you feel good. it gets him going so much, the fact that you come to him to fuck you raw and no one else, because no one can do it like he can.

speaking of feeling good, this big guy has so much stamina that you both will be goin at it for HOURS. he’ll stop when you stop ofc, but man.. if you refuse so tap out you are GONE by the time he’s finished with you. hank has so much pent up aggression that the only way he can let it out is by killing (ofc) and fucking. when he’s so built up in lust, that’s all he can think about when he sees you. fuck. fuck. fuck.

WEAR HIS STUFF. this will drive him absolutely wild. hank is a very big dude, so seeing you in his jacket that very clearly to big for you does…something for him. not only that, but it transfers his scent onto you, which he adores. swear if he sees you in one of his spare shirts, you will not escape his grasp for a while. loves to fuck you while you wear his clothes, it honestly might be one of his main kinks.

loves to manhandle you, so expect to be tossed around in a lot of places. he won’t be too rough to the point where it’ll hurt you, but just know the both of you won’t stay in the same spot or the same position for long. does not care if you make a ruckus because of this, either. in fact, he wants others to hear what y’all are up to, so that they know not to mess with what’s his <3

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 is a bit more tame out of the group, but don’t let that fool you. he can be an absolute freak if you so wish.

he has such a size kink. man comes in a huge package, so seeing you underneath him as he can quite literally just hold you down with one hand has him feel things he’s never had before. loves the fact he can just bound both your hands with his big one.

speaking of size, san-man loves to see just how well you can take him in, despite you being so small. he praises you and tells you that you do such a good job for him, and seeing the bulge in your tummy as he pushes in all the way has him seeing literal stars. cannot fathom how amazing you look.

this guy lives to serve, lemme tell you. we already know that sanford is a very determined man, so when he has his mind dead set on something, best believe he will get it accomplished. that includes marking you cum as many times as he can! he loves seeing your face and hearing the noises you make.

adores giving you head.. literally could stay down there all day and night if he could. he gets so drunk off the way you taste, and get even harder when you finish in his mouth. he just wants to taste you over and over and over again.

PLEASE suck and play with his chest. dude is big and buff, so he has a lot of body to love and share. he gets so flustered and riled up when you do, it’s one of his sensitive spots. when you lick and squeeze his pecks, he always has to stop you because before long, he could finish right then.

also, if you want to turn sanford on? be soft to him. seriously, seeing you all sweet for him drives him WILD. he’s so vanilla, and he kind of takes pride in that. he doesn’t just want to have sex, he wants to make love. so make sure you kiss him, and whisper to him that he’s doing you so good. hold him tight and close. he will lose his damn mind.

switches up so easily, it’s humorous. we all know sanford to be quite loud and boisterous; always feeling the need to announce himself. be it friend or foe, you know when he’s in the room by the sheer boom his voice develops when he speaks. don’t let such an action fool you, however. when you both are alone, you can tell sanford is feeling lustful by his tone. he gets quiet and, funny enough, a bit shy. also not that loud in bed because of this, but you don’t mind. in fact, it’s actually quite cute how you can make such a loud man go quiet at the sight of you. <3

𝐃𝐄𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐒 is a whore. plain and simple. doesn’t give a shit about it either, everyone likes what they like, right? he may be a cocky and flirtatious dude, but once you get him in the sheets? it’s all fair game from there. that person that was teasing you constantly in front of your co-workers is completely separate once you tend to his needs and wants.

firstly, he his the exact opposite from sanford when it comes too vocals. when he’s out and about, his voice is so raspy and low, which of course comes from all the smoking he does. even when he shouts while he’s on the field, it’ll take once or twice before deimos is heard. but once you get him in bed? that’s a whole nother story.

this guy is so damn loud. to the point where it’s actually a bit concerning. you sometimes have to even cover his mouth or shove your fingers down his throat to get him at least a little quieter, because just telling him is not gonna do it. but hey! it’s not like he minds… perhaps he even gets loud on purpose because of this ;)

just about anything can turn this guy on. does not matter where you are, what time of day it is, he will make sure you KNOW when he wants to get down and dirty. ofc he’s not gonna force you if you ain’t up to it, but if and when you are, best believe he is dragging you to the nearest (semi) secluded place so y’all can take care of business.

speaking of semi secluded places, because of this sluts sex drive, he ADORES quickies. like i said, the bare minimum of what you do can have him hard as a rock in seconds. it’s also the thrill that gets him going, too. the meer fact that someone can walk in as deimos is pounding into you (or the other way around) is both nerve racking and exciting to him. he finds pleasure in someone knowing just how y’all fuck, and that it’s only meant for the two of you. they want of piece of you? well too bad! he has you all to himself.

mutual masturbation is his main kink.. deimos is aware that he has a nice body, and is very aware that you like it. he likes that he can turn you on just as much as you do him. he especially likes the way you ogle at him as he sits in front of you, pants down to his knees and his shirt lifted up, pumping his dick with his hand right in front of you. he likes feeling wanted, but loves knowing what he does to you. he also loves seeing your body too! sit across from him and let him watch as you go at yourself too, he’ll lose his mind.

deimos LOVESSSS to be manhandled. when he does bottom, he wants you to be rough. choke him, edge him, move him around like a rag doll, etc. the sheer amount of times he’s cum in his pants back to back is wild, lemme tell you.

speaking of cum, he cums a lot. so much. he can’t help it, honestly, and he’ll do it just about anywhere. inside you, on you, on himself, he likes em all. deimos is also a somewhat shellfish person in my opinion. i mean, he’s been through so much, you can’t blame him for wanting to feel good, right? you make him feel so good, he just can’t help himself when he cums for the 3rd time in the last 20 minutes. but oh, don’t worry! he’ll make sure he returns the favor

[callsign-dexter]

Undercover Desires (18+)

Request: Alright, I have an idea 💡 I'd also ask this for my bday but then I feel bad for all other which requested before me :( 

Another Antonio one where they're a couple and she works as an officer on the road, but one time Hank asks her to help them out undercover, all dressed up hot and sexy, which makes Antonio really jealous and possessive but he can stay professional. Just until they get home, where he rips of her dress and shows you that every part of you belongs to him ? 🥵💗

Pairings: Antonio Dawson x Cop!Reader

Warnings: smut, implied smut, swearing, fluff, angst

A/N: happy birthday to the anon that sent this request in! I hope you like it!

You loved your job and wouldn’t give anything up for it. You liked the thought of working in Intelligence but you liked being out there on the streets more. You are a cop for Chicago PD and currently loving it. You also didn’t want to put your boyfriend’s, Antonio Dawson, job at risk and risk the chance of clouding his head if you two did work together. You and Antonio have been together 2 going on 3 years and you loved each other with everything you got and you wouldn’t trade anything for it.

Intelligence was currently working on a case and you could tell it was a tough one considering the way Antonio would come and collapse. Every other cop had been asked to help on the case but it wasn’t as in depth as Intelligence was working. You wished you could help more but right now all you could do was patrol the streets and alert if something was out of the ordinary. The case was about how a man would abduct ladies at a bar and then sexually assault them and then end up killing them and dumping them. The FBI should’ve been called in but Intelligence was given a chance to catch the person before the feds were called.

You had gotten home from work before Antionio and had changed out of your work clothing and started some dinner. It wasn’t even 30 minutes until your boyfriend had walked into the shared apartment with a sigh and keys hitting the table beside the entry way. You turned around and smiled at him sympathetically. “Hey, Baby. Rough day?” You asked him already knowing the answer.

“Very. We aren’t any closer than when we started.” He said and walked over to you and hugged you and you returned the hug.

“I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help out. Food will be ready in 10 min.” You said when you released each other.

“You’re doing all that you can, Babe. Anything I can do to help?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No. You go and get changed and it’ll be ready by the time you get out here.” You said knowing his routine and how he liked to take a quick shower after work to as he puts it ‘wash off the day’. True to your word when he joined you back into the kitchen and you had already began to plate his food. He smiled and took the plate from you and kissed you, you closed your eyes and leaned into the kiss. He pulled away and then you plated your food and joined him at the table but not before grabbing two beers and opening them and sitting one in front of him.

“Have I told you lately about how beautiful and sexy you are?” He asked and you furiously blushed and dipped your head and shook your head.

“No, I don’t think so.” You say looking up at him still blushing and you could see the light twinkling in his eyes.

“Well, in that case you are one sexy woman. The most beautiful one I’ve seen and don’t know how lucky I got to call you mine.” He said and that had you blushing even more. Let’s just say you both didn’t finish your supper and headed off to bed early.

 ——————————————————————

The next morning you both woke up cuddled into each other’s arms with no clothing on. You smiled at each other and then started to get ready for the day. When you were ready you kissed each other and headed to the precinct. You normally didn’t ride together due to the different times you both got off. When you arrived, you kissed each other and went your separate ways but not before telling each other that you loved one another and to be safe.

As you we greeted Trudy and she gave you a look of annoyance and rolled her eyes as you walked past her to grab the keys to your cruiser. While you grabbed them Hank walked in and spotted you. He walked over to you and you looked up and smiled at him. “Hey, Hank. What’s up?” You asked and he smiled at you.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m gonna need your help with something.” He said

“Yea, of course, what is you need?” You asked this is what you had been hoping for.

“We need someone to go undercover and we can’t send it Hailey or Kim. They would be recognized almost instantly and they don’t look like the woman he has been taking. I want someone that hasn’t been seen with us and you also look the other women.” He said and you thought about it and you seriously wanted to help.

“Absolutely, I would do anything to help you guys.” You said and you could see some of the tension fall from his face.

“Thank you so much.” He said and you nodded “Be ready up in Intelligence in an hour. I’ll have the girls help you get ready and wired.” He said “Also I need you to wear something that would catch his eye. So, if you have anything at home I would suggest going and getting it.” He added and you nodded.

“You got it.” You said and he thanked you one last time and then you both headed your separate ways. When you got your car, you headed to your and Antonio’s apartment to grab a form fitting dress and some high heels. The dress didn’t cost much and had been saving it for any occasion and what better occasion then a short undercover operation?

——————————————————————

You patrolled the area for awhile until it was time to head to the precinct. When you arrived, you parked the car and headed in with your stuff. Trudy looked at you and walked over and punched in the code to let you up. You smiled at her and she smiled back and shook her head. You both were good friends and liked to tease each other and it just flowed smoothly.

You walked up the stairs and everyone greeted you but Antonio and you could see the wheels turning in his head and he shook his head. “Did Hank put you up to this?” He asked you and you just smirked.

“He asked me and I said yes. No shame in helping out.” You said and walked over to him and kissed him which he returned.

“Glad you’re here.” Hank said and you broke the kiss to look at him “Kim and Hailey will help you get ready.” He said and the girls mentioned came up and took both of your arms and headed into the locker room.

“So, how bad is Antonio freaking out about this?” You asked with a smirk as you started to remove your uniform.

“He didn’t know who we got to do it until you walked in.” Kim said and you shook your head.

“It’s going to be an easy one. Get in there have him confess and get out.” Hailey said and you nodded you slid on the dress.

“Since you’re going to be wearing a dress, we got a necklace with a mic in it so we can hear everything.” Kim said and you nodded your head and they put the necklace on you. You all continued to talk while they got you ready to go. Once you all were done you put on your heels and headed out to the bullpen. Kevin, Jay and Adam complimented you but Antonio had yet to say anything but you could tell by the way his pupils dilated that he had liked it and could he wanted to shield you from other guys.

“Antonio?” You asked with a smirk and you could see how he was having a hard time controlling himself.

“You look perfect, Babe.” He said while looking you up and down.

“Ok, now that you’re ready we can get going.” Hank said and you all nodded and headed out to the van and the vehicles. You knew what you were doing to Antonio, you could see him squirming in his sit and had to adjust himself several times.

——————————————————————

They briefed you one more time and then you were heading into the bar. Some catcalls were made at you and you just knew Antonio was not taking it well. When that man gets possessive, he gets turned on and it led to some incredibly great and rough sex, which you loved. You found a seat the bar and waited and you didn’t have to wait too long until a man approached you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked you and you turned to look at him, he was handsome, tall, dark hair, a dazzling smile, and chocolate-colored eyes. You smiled at him.

“No, not at all.” You said and he sat down.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” He said

“My work is demanding but I decided to take sometime for myself.” You said and you knew you were lying.

“My name is Tyler Shane.” He said

“Well nice to meet you, Tyler. I’m Abbigail Lawson.” You said giving a completely fake name. You could just imagine Antonio smirking.

“Well, what do you say to getting out of here?” He asked and you nodded.

“Ok. Your place or mine?” You asked.

“Mine.” He said as you began leaving with him you made sure to adjust your necklace a sign that you had him. Once you reached outside and began heading towards the car Intelligence jumped out.

“Chicago PD!” Hank yelled out and Tyler put his hands up while Hank cuffed him and Antonio came over to you and wrapped his jacket around you.

“You fucking bitch! You’re a cop?!” Tyler yelled out looking at you and before you could respond Antonio beat you to it.

“You bet she is. She’s a damn good one.” He said and pulled you closer to him shielding you away from Tyler. Hailey and Kim came over to you and removed the necklace and then you all went on your way.

——————————————————————

When you all arrived back to the police station Hank allowed Antonio to take you home and Trudy didn’t even say a word. You decided to leave your car there and ride with Antonio back home. The ride home was all sexual tension. Antonio had his hand on your high and it was slowly rising to the hem of the dress. “My girl is badass.” He said and his voice had gone an octave lower a sign that he was really turned on. His hand slid up further until it reached your underwear and he started to stroke you which quickly had you a moaning mess.

“Antonio.” You moaned out and then you were stopped at a stoplight he leaned over and kissed your neck. That and the combination of him slowly stroking you had you hot and bothered. The light turned green and he didn’t move until a car horn blew and then he returned his attention back to the road he pulled his hand away and whimpered at the loss of friction. He smirked and drove the rest of the way to the apartment. He as hard and you could tell from the bulge in his jeans. You reached over and rubbed him and he actually swerved but quickly corrected himself.

You arrived back to the apartment and he parked and killed the engine and you both walked into the apartment. When you got the elevator, he pressed the button and when it opened you two walked inside thankful nobody was there. Once the door was shut, he had his mouth on yours and hand returning to your soaking hot core. “So wet for me and only me.” He said and bit your sweet spot and you moaned. You were close and could feel that rubber band tightening just a little more and it would snap. He seemed to have had noticed that because he pushed your underwear to the side and slid a finger into you and began to finger fuck you. He had you a moaning mess. He then curled his finger hitting your g-spot and it was over you came over his hand then the elevator dinged and he pulled out and you whimpered again. He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “You taste absolutely delicious.” He said and you pressed your thighs together trying to get the friction back that you so desperately needed. He held his hand out to you and you walked out and to your apartment he had already had the keys out and unlocked the door and once you were inside, he had your back against the door attacking your neck.

“Antonio!” You moaned out. You felt him smirk you kicked off your heels and wrapped your hands around his neck with one hand in his hair. You turned you head the side letting him have more access.

“You were so hot today. Had me hard while we were in that van.” He said and brought you hand to the bulge in his jeans. “You’re mine and only mine.” He said while looking into your eyes. “I want to get this dress off of you.” He said and took it in one hand and tugged the dress ripped with ease and you gasped.

“That was my favorite dress.” You whined out.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He said he had you jump and you circled your legs around his waist and he walked you over to the counter and laid you down on the cold surface which felt great on your burning skin. You were so out of it that the sound of material ripping had you looking at him and you saw your torn underwear in his hands and a smirking Antonio, you glared at him.

“Antonio.” You said in a stern voice and he just smirked.

“I’ll get you new ones.” He said and you rolled your eyes but it didn’t last because the next thing you knew he was licking a broad stripe up your folds that had you toes curling. You moaned and your hands went to his head and pushed him further into you. He rolled your clit and gently bit it at times and probed your entrance with his tongue. After a minute he pulled away and you groaned at the loss of contact, you were so close.

Your hands fell from his head and you watched him rid himself of his clothing and you got rid of your bra. Once he stepped out of his jeans, he was stepping over to you and roughly shoving his girthy cock into you. The familiar stretch and burn were perfect and you loved it, your head went to the counter and he started a rough pace thrusting in and out of you. You and he were a moaning mess. “Right there! Feels so good!” You moaned out and he latched onto your right nipple and set a brutal pace that you loved. He caged you in with his arms.

He rolled your nipple in his mouth and gently bit it and then soothed it out after a few minutes he let go of it and looked up at your face and smirked. “You’re mine and only mine.” He said and you nodded “Words use your words.” He said and you moaned.

“Yours.” You said and he gave a sharp thrust into you and then attacked you left nipple giving it the same attention as the other. He then let up and pulled out and you whimpered at the loss of contact but you didn’t have to wait long because he was helping you down and then bending you over the counter and then shoving himself back into you. You could feel the coolness on your breasts. You turned you head the side and he put one hand on you head holding you down while the other one held your hips.

“Tell me who is making you feel good.” He said

“You.” You said and he gave a harsh thrust.

“Who is making you feel this good?” He asked again.

“Antonio!!” You yelled out and he smirked.

“Good girl.” He praised and you felt that knot forming in your stomach again. You were so close.

“’M close.” You said and he leaned over you going deeper.

“Not yet.” He said and you whimpered he pulled out again and then turned you around and had you jump again and he walked you to the bedroom. He gently threw you on the bed and then crawled up to you and guided himself into you again and set a brutal pace again.

“’Tonio, close.” You said and he just smirked loving when you couldn’t even form sentences. He himself was close too.

“Let go.” He said and as he said that you did and his thrusts grew sloppy and he stilled inside of you throwing his head back and moaning as her painted your walls white. When you both came down from your high you were both panting and the room smelt of sex, you both were sweating. He rested his head on your and smiled and you smiled back. He kissed you and you kissed back. He slowly slid out of you.

Antonio got up and went into the bathroom and came back with a wet washcloth he gently slid it through your oversensitive folds and you moaned and your legs shook. “I’m sorry.” He said and you shook your head.

“Nothing to apologize for. Just sensitive.” You said and he smirked knowing he made you that way. He threw the washcloth into the basket. He walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back and you both crawled into them. He pulled you into him to where your back was to him.

“You’re mine and only mine.” He said and you turned to face him and smiled.

“Yours and only yours. If I get rough sex each time you get possessive or jealous each time I go undercover or someone flirts with me, then I should do it all the time.” You said with a chuckle and so did he. You closed your eyes “I love you, Babe.” You said.

“I love you too.” He said and felt you smile against his chest and kissed your head and felt your breath even out and then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Oh yea if he was like this every time you went undercover or he jealous and possessive when someone flirted with you then yea you were going to do it more often.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

[morose-magnetrix]

Hi I saw that you’re a big Lorna Dane fan and that you’ve read a lot of her comics. Do you have a recommended reading list for her?

Hey there! 💚🧲 Thanks for the ask!

I use Travis Starnes’ reading order for my Polaris-athon (https://cmro.travis-starnes.com/character_details.php?character=426) but if you’re just wanting to get into her stories it’s way too much tbh. She has a lot of appearances and it can be difficult to sort through the meaningful ones and the ones where she’s just on the page as a recognizable cameo.

I haven’t managed to read all of her appearances yet - I’ve gotten up to the early 90s, and I’ve read most of her appearances from, like, 2016 onwards. I’m a little behind on Fall of X as well. So there likely are going to be some gaps here, but this would be my recommended reading list for Polaris 🧲 :

Krakoan Age (2019-)

this is the golden age for Polaris in my opinion, and where I’d honestly recommend you start reading!

Leah Williams’ X-Factor: This is where the modern revitalization of Polaris into the It Girl of Krakoa really begins. There is controversy surrounding the final issue of the series due to Prodigy's storyline (see here, here, and here for more info), but overall I really love this run. It’s very queer and does a great job of taking Polaris’ spotty characterization and having her begin a journey of self discovery.

Gerry Duggan’s X-Men: Gerry follows up on Leah’s work here and Polaris really starts to shine. Issue #5 is a standout and a personal favorite, if you only read one issue, it should be this one. She’s in vol. 1 as a main member of the team, and the spin offs from this period (Devil’s Reign X-Men and Death of Doctor Strange: X-Men/Black Knight) are really fun. Plus, Pepe Larraz’s redesign of her for this book is STUNNING.

Alex Segura's 'Control' arc in X-Men Unlimited (#96-99) : this is exclusive to the Marvel Unlimited app, but it’s really great. Lorna’s a cameo queen after leaving Gerry’s book, so it’s a nice centering of her and revisits some of her greatest villains.

Steve Orlando’s Scarlet Witch: Issue #3 is a must read in my opinion, particularly if you’re interested in Lorna’s relationship with her family (it builds off of Williams’ Trial of Magneto, which I love and establishes her PhD, but ultimately I think you can probably skip, it’s more of a Wanda focus).

The Lost Era (2010s)

This is the time period following the Decimation, where a lot of stories... tread water, tbh! Nothing here is essential reading for Polaris.

Lorna spends a lot of this era in the hands of Peter David, who is a vile scum sack of a person (see here for an example). I've read All New X-Factor (2014), where he characterizes her as someone who is completely unhinged and a danger to animals. It's not a fun time tbh. And again, it's Peter David - so I would skip this. You aren't missing much.

Cullen Bunn's X-Men Blue (2017): I've only read the first arc of this run, but it focuses on the time-displaced O5 X-Men (Jean, Warren, Scott, Bobby, Hank). Magneto is mentoring them, so Polaris steps in to keep him from making them too ~evil~. I haven't heard anything good or bad about her appearances in this book, so I can't really recommend one way or another. It's probably safe to skip.

Ed Brisson's Uncanny X-Men (2018): Again, I haven't read this one yet! It's the lead up to the Age of X-Man event, where she also appears. Similarly to X-Men Blue, I haven't really heard anything good or bad about this one. You can skip it if you'd like, it's right before Krakoa pops off which is a soft reboot from the entire franchise.

Decimation Era (2000s)

John Byrne's X-Men the Hidden Years: I haven't read this either yet, but I know some people really like it. It fleshes out a lot of the Silver Age stuff, and it's where Polaris uses the codename Magnetrix (where I got my blog name from lol).

Apocalypse: the Twelve: I have not read this. I have heard only bad things about it lmao. Polaris and Magneto are part of a prophecy about defeating Apocalypse, but it doesn't turn out the way they expect. Skip.

Grant Morrison's New X-Men #132: A transformative issue for Polaris and a HUGE milestone in her character. It deals with the Genoshan genocide, of which Polaris was one of the few survivors. Highly recommend.

Chuck Austen's Uncanny X-Men: So this run is very ~your mileage may vary~ - I haven't read it yet myself. BUT from what I know, Austen really builds on Morrison's trauma that they gave to Lorna, and really takes her away from the assimilationist characterization Peter David gave her. Plus, it has the iconic Magneto wedding dress panel (Uncanny X-Men (1981) #426)

House of M (2005): she's in it, she doesn't really do much! Skip.

Peter Milligan's X-Men: Polaris becomes Pestilence, the horseman of Apocalypse in the Blood of Apocalypse arc beginning in X-Men (1991) #181. I haven't read it, but tbh most Apocalypse storylines between the original X-Factor arc and the Krakoan age are bad, so it's probably safe to skip.

After her spin as Pestilence, Lorna goes to space and joins the Starjammers. I haven't read this yet either, but it seems like fun! Relevant titles would be Uncanny X-Men (1981) Rise and Fall of the Shi'Ar Empire (#475-486), X-Men: Emperor Vulcan #1-5 (2007), and then the War of Kings (2009) event.

1990s

Skip this entire era. She's basically just in Peter David's original run on X-Factor (1986). The artwork is pretty, but the writing comes off as very male gaze-y to me and her character arc is somewhat repetitive.

X-Factor (1986) #186 (eXaminations) is famous for being an in-depth character study of the entire team. It's where we first see Lorna's eating disorder pop up. It's well done, just, well - fuck the writer lol.

Claremont Run (1975-1980s)

Lorna's storyline is overall a little confusing and hard to follow in the Claremont era, mostly because she is a) mind-controlled for most of it and b) not the main plot. So she ends up appearing in random issues, sometimes gone for huge lengths at a time, and then reappears. It's really clear that Chris was interested in working with this character and had some great ideas for her, but she was never one of his main blorbos.

These are the issues you should check out:

Giant Size X-Men (1975): Claremont didn't write this, Len Wein did, but this is really the start of the Claremont run. It has some cool moments for Polaris, including an early example of a mutant circuit between her and Storm!

X-Men (1963) #97: Lorna and Havok are mind-controlled by Erik the Red (don't worry about it) to fight the X-Men.

X-Men (1963) #125-129: the Proteus arc, Lorna is on Muir island with Havok and helps out. Nothing super critical happens, she just sorta vibes (and enjoys not being mind controlled).

Uncanny X-Men (1981) #145-146: Arcade has kidnapped loved ones of the X-Men, tbh I would recommend reading this just for Polaris' outfit. It's this witchy purple thing that is INCREDIBLE.

Uncanny X-Men (1981) #218-219, 221-222, 239-241, 243, X-Factor (1986) #39: Polaris is possessed by Malice, so now she's fighting against the X-Men... and working for Sinister! It's not technically her, but it's iconic and is a prime example of a running motif of possession for her.

Uncanny X-Men (1981) #249-250: ZALADANE! An iconic retcon, we meet Lorna's long lost sister (again).

Uncanny X-Men (1981) #253-255, 257-258, 269, X-Factor (1986) #69, Uncanny X-Men (1981) #280, X-Factor (1986) #70: Big!Lorna and the Muir Island saga. It's very weird! But I love big!Lorna and her muscles, so we stan. This is also the very weird end of Chris Claremont's main run on the X-Men, where it's very clear the plots got messed with in the wrap-up.

After this, Peter David takes over X-Factor, and he's garbage!

The Silver Age (1960s)

So this is Lorna's debut era, she's an OG member of the X-Men! Unfortunately even here, they never quite know what to do with her. She's very much intended to function as Bobby's love interest, which... doesn't really work out lmao. But I do think this era is fun to read, especially knowing what retcons they're going to build out later on for her, particularly with regards to Magneto.

She's not in too many issues:

Arnold Drake's X-Men (1963) #49-52: Lorna's first appearance! It's super fun, definitely check it out.

Linda Fite's X-Men (1963) #57: Lorna fights a sentinel!

Roy Thomas's X-Men (1963) #58-62: Some more fun moments - Kazar/Sauron arc, and the first appearance of Havok!

Dennis O'Neil's X-Men (1963) #65-66: The Z'nox invasion, Lorna has some cool moments here. Still no codename tho lol.

I'll try to update this as I fill in my gaps, but happy reading!! 🧲💚

[cunt-dracula0]

Hi! Would you like to maybe write for billy loomis with a GN embittered reader? Like that's just their personality (and also they're tired of everyone telling them they're bitter lol yeah that's me)

𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

pairing: billy loomis x gn!reader

warning(s): embittered/easily irritated reader. apart from that, none, just drunk stu occasionally bashing you and not understanding why you are the way you are

• Both yourself and Billy have gotten along for years. Why, you may ask? Well, it’s because the two of you are almost the exact same fucking person.

• Billy had always been a happy kid, but that was until the unfortunate abandonment he was forced to face after his mother hit breaking point with his father, Hank Loomis. No thanks to Maureen Prescott..

• You on the other hand had always been treated unfairly. Resulting in your never changing personality.

• You are much softer on Billy than you would be with anyone else, he appreciates it but he would understand if you were really struggling on how to act 100% most days.

• When it comes to the people Billy truly loves in a way no one else would understand, he knows better than to question their pain.

• The only little shit that has a problem with your mood is Stu. Mostly when he begs you and Billy to come watch a horror movie with him at his place on Friday night. You both agree and head over (even though you’re internally screaming that you’d wished you stayed home)

• Throughout the movie, Stu heads to the kitchen to get yet another bowl of popcorn, leaving you and Billy to talk quietly in the living room. You feel more calm, though nothing changes the irritated feeling of having to sit in Stu Macher’s house watching Halloween for the millionth time. God, you swore that guy had a hard on for Jamie Lee Curtis every single day of the fucking week.

Billy had already warned Stu not to tease you about how you may be such a ‘grouch’ as the other tall male constantly nicknames you.

He returns to see you staring at him but darting your eyes elsewhere when he caught you looking, that old frown of yours never leaving your face.

“Christ, Y/n.. crack a smile, huh?” Stu mocked whilst giggling. He’d had a couple of drinks, leading to him now bluntly stating his opinion. More like always..

Billy glared up at the older boy through his chocolatey brown eyes, knowing that his stare intimidated Stu, even creeped him out a little.

Stu huffed. “Okay, okay, i’m sorry. I guess I just ain’t that used to being in the company of grumpy the fucking care bear.”

“Get bent, Macher.”

• Billy always defends you and whatever mood you might be in. Even if it’s a reoccurring bad day for you, Billy will be there for extra support and comfort.

You are his. He chose you for a reason. It doesn’t matter if you are similar to him or the exact opposite, that man is not backing out of this relationship. Both yourself and Billy have a strong bond that no one else can break. And is that destined to change? Fuck no.

[cloveroctobers]

GUERO — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: yeah there’s no way you thought I wouldn’t right? I have a type 🤫 & since I’m divorced from angel and SICK of EZ’s ass (the way they scrambled his character is not it) + have a slight crush on Hank I basically just decided to take my pick and I don’t think Guero’s a bad choice—hopefully he doesn’t fuck that up lol. Listen to me being delusional but you kinda have to be even if it’s just a little bit when writing no?

WARNINGS: nothing but short fluff for my new man — with a hint of chaos!

PROMPTS from this list & this one too: 1.) “I’m so hot.” “Loving the confidence.” “Shut up.” + 2.) Ice cream dates.

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It’s early when Guero almost jumps out of your shared bed. He’s the type of man that can sleep through anything if you let him and it takes minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dim bedroom. He almost flinches when his brown hues settle on the thin gold curtains, specs of light threatening to fully break through with their beams from the outside.

He yawns, stretching his long ink covered limbs above his head, glancing to his left to notice that you’re not there like you should be. A frown erupts between his brows, his leg brushing over the sheets to feel they’re cool—almost to the point it feels damp?

Instantly he’s pushing himself into a sitting position, stuffing the palms of his large hands into his eye sockets to push the grogginess away. Giving himself a few moments, he glances at the fancy new modern alarm clock, which happened to be a careless purchase on your part, that’s illuminated in white, blurting that it’s 6:51AM.

You were always a early riser but not this damn early. Now he’s in a search of you, feet shuffling against the dark wooden floor as he tosses the bedroom door back. The hallway is also dim as he begins to make his way down by the bathroom on his left-hand side.

It’s not like it takes him long to find you, eyeing the top part of the fridge wide open, the front of it blocking the top half of you. You don’t notice him as he squeezes his way around to stand behind you, arms crossed, a smirk on his lips as you stand on your tippy toes, face buried into the freezer.

“I’m so hot.” He hears you say, voice muffled while he leans against the counter that contains the kitchen sink.

“I’m loving the confidence.”

The way his voice booms, makes you smack your head against the top of the freezer, making him snort as you settle back onto your feet, now holding your head as you glare at the taller man.

“Shut up,” you rubbed at the back of your head, “the hell are you doing sneaking up on me? sounding like Morgan freeman and shit?”

Guero lightly laughs, “my apologies babe. I thought you said you liked my morning voice?”

“Not when it’s quiet and I���m trying to have some peace.”

“…In the freezer?” Guero questioned with a frown on his face, as he briefly runs a hand through his bed-hair.

You huff, turning back around to stick your head back into the freezer, hands feeling around the space until you find exactly what you need.

Guero’s rushing over to you now, reaching to snatch the carton of ice cream that you just plucked the top off of, “oh hell no,” he responds as it’s your turn to frown at him.

Immediately you’re putting your back to the tatted man, his frame colliding with yours as you scuffle over the ice cream carton, “get your own!”

“What do you mean? That is mine! You don’t even like peanuts in your hot fudge sundaes.”

You didn’t even rock with sundaes like that in the first place to be honest…but the point still stands.

“Mind your business, Guero.”

“Sorry, last I checked, You are my business.” Guero argued as you peered up at him.

Normally that would make you weak in the knees but at this current moment, in your aggravation? It wasn’t going to fly. Smiling evilly at the man, you stuck your tongue out and swiped it right across the top of the ice cream, letting out a sigh in content as Guero scrunched up his nose.

Now here he was, waking up at the crack of ass, in search of his loving partner of two years that moved with him to santo padre in this updated mobile home, thanks to her contractor dad who had his own business and did plenty work around the golf course in the area, wondering if their well-being was in tact since they had a common case of insomnia from time to time, just to stand here now; with them disrespecting him by licking his favorite ice cream (and not off his body).

“Oh, you’re done for now.” Guero voiced as the both you were now in a battle for the ice cream.

Laughing to yourself, you went to do the same action again but the smack of the carton from your hands was almost like slow motion. Before you could even scrabble to attempt to save the ice cream, it toppled straight to the floor with a loud splat. A brief silence filled the small home as the both of you stared at each other, Guero quirking up a brow, tatted thin but muscular arms raised, quietly asking with his facial expression, what you’re gonna do about it now.

With your hands around his neck and him swinging you around, it was about to turn into WWE up in this bitch. The round only lasted for maybe about ten minutes, the both of you playfully wrestling and talking shit to each other as you stumbled into the living room.

Your arms had Guero’s tree sized ass in a headlock as you yelled, “why would you do that when you know I’m over here sweating my behind off?!”

“One, you didn’t ask and two, just turn the fucken AC on then!” Guero yelled back, arms locking around your waist as he used his weight to shove you onto the floor, but not without using one of his hands to protect the back of your head.

We didn’t need another repeat of the accidental concussion he gave you the last time the both of you wrestled.

“You’re the one who said we need to start saving money, paying $643 a month for just the mortgage alone with both of our shitty salaries and the ceiling fans weren’t doing shit!” You wrapped your legs around his hips while he gripped your wrists back over your head to keep from slapping him.

This was a old but still a fresh story, considering the both of you debated over this maybe two weeks ago? Before the both of you fell into the same routine of trying to make ends meet. The both of you were still young in your mid-to late twenties and didn’t live together back in Tucson but decided to when it came to this new destination.

Guero was grateful that you were locked in with this relationship, since he’s never had a serious partnership before you and he wasn’t down to do long-distance but he also really wasn’t down to fall in love with anybody else either. Back in Arizona you were in school working some shitty minimum wage job at a home improvement store, while he tended to a declining club with his late father…so you do the math.

Now in Santo padre, it was supposed to be a fresh start and money wasn’t discussed much between you two back then since the both of you like to keep it to yourselves. That quickly changed now living together, since it unofficially put a stamp on the potential of making this a forever thing. You were now involved in a unpaid internship while attempting to do some remote part-time job for income and Guero? Let’s just say the new distribution of a deadly thing that starts with the letter “F” was worth something nice!

You didn’t need to know the details though.

“I don’t mind you a little sweaty,” Guero shrugged, thinking about it, while you rolled your eyes.

“Ew, get off me you pig! You’re only making this worse.”

“For you maybe, not for me.” He responds with a wink, “I kinda like this position too.”

While he says so, you brought your knees to your chest, just to push your toes right into Guero’s gut, knocking the wind out of him as he crumpled to the side.

“That…was…not…cool.” He wheezed, holding his belly.

“Just like you smacking that ice cream from my hands. Fair is fair.” You folded your arms, rolling your head back up to stare at the ceiling with a sigh.

Guero watched the profile of you, feeling the energy radiating off you. He wasn’t completely clueless, he knew things were tougher out here for the both of you, trying to find your footing and him trying to avenge his father’s death and live up to his legacy but it always felt good to know that you had each other at the end of the day.

He shuffled closer to you, reaching out a hand to grip yours as he placed a kiss to the back of your hand. Soon he got to his feet, briefly leaving your side, then chuckled to himself at the fallen ice cream on the floor before looking into the freezer himself.

You had your eyes closed, actually liking how cooler it felt on the floor than in your bed. That nap wouldn’t last long with Guero lightly kicking your foot with his own to get your attention.

A nudge of his head made you eye him in curiosity, “Get your pretty ass up here, we’re going on a ice cream date.”

Slowly sitting up with a groan you eyed the other carton Guero was now holding in his hands. A laugh bubbled out your lips as you held one hand out for Guero to easily pull you up with one arm to your feet.

He unlocked the front door to the partial screened in porch, letting you lead the way as you let out another sigh of contentment as a breeze greeted your skin. Plopping down on the couch, you awaited for Guero to follow as he sat right beside you. Tossing your thigh over his, he pulled the top off the carton, stuck the scooper into the container and handed it right over to you.

Smiling to yourself, Guero shook his head at your eagerness as you went to work on getting a good scoop of neapolitan ice cream, leaving him to grip your neck so that he could place a kiss to the back of your once sore head.

Together the both of you sat side by side, watching the orange sunrise above the lake up ahead. A golf cart sputtered by with a elderly couple who happened to be fussing at each other as they made their way by the front of the home.

Originally Guero didn’t want to live in some retiree spot that you picked out but stopped bad-mouthing it after learning that your late firefighter mother spent her remaining months here. He also came to sorta like it, enjoying the quiet (especially at the late hour after hanging out with a bunch of rowdy brothers) and company of you after a few weeks.

“Morning!” The man greeted the two of you on his way by but not without making a coo-coo motion with his other hand towards his wife.

Which earned him a nice slap to his shoulder as the both of you waved at the couple, “I can still see you, AL! I’m not blind.”

“Oh sorry, Martha honey,” The man playfully grimaced at you two which earned him a laugh before he whispered, “I thought the glaucoma was beginning to set in.”

Guero snorted at the man, “have a good one,” as the couple carried on down the path to their daily outing.

“That’s gonna be us in forty years.” You stated after pulling the scooper from your lips, resting your head against Guero’s shoulder.

The man hummed, “you think so?”

“You don’t?”

He shrugged, “I’ll look sexier.”

“Of course you will.” You rolled your eyes with a laugh as you handed the scooper over to share.

“Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

“Likewise, even if you’re a idiot who wastes ice cream when it’s ninety degrees inside.” You smirked up at Guero who scoffed.

Guero placed the multi-flavored dessert into his mouth for breakfast and declared, “this shit is trash and nowhere near my hot fudge sundae.”

“More for me!” You reached for the carton but Guero blocked you from doing so with his shoulder.

Scowling Guero shook his head at you, “nope you’re gonna wait your turn since you ruined mine.”

“Be for real, That’s your problem, you don’t ever want to share. You’re being a trash date right now and won’t get another one.”

Guero tossed his head back in laughter, mouth full of ice cream as he talked, “yeah, right! What’s mine is yours and you’re mine.”

“Exactly, so give me my ice cream.”

“What?” He was confused by your logic.

Collapsing back against the couch dramatically, hand over your forehead and eyes closed you waited for Guero to break. It was quiet with the wind rustling it’s way through the leaves in the trees and the birds chirping through the summer morning air.

Cracking a eye open, Guero laughed at you.

“You’d be the perfect actor in a soap opera, you know?”

“And you’d be the perfect thief.”

“…takes one to know one,” Guero bit back as he placed another scoop into his mouth.

He was making you sick!

“Give it to me,” you side eyed the man, “you just said it was garbage.”

“Doesn’t mean I completely hate it but it’s not better than my sundae.” He mocked just to fall short as you latched onto his nipple and twisted.

Guero yelped, dropping the scooper into the carton with a hiss and abruptly handed it over. Grinning you happily welcomed the carton back into your hands as Guero rubbed at his pec.

“I cannot believe you just squeezed the shit out of my tit like that! Why you gotta be so violent for?”

As if he didn’t start it by breaking the best and only tower fan in the house, forcing them to settle with the mediocre ceiling fan in their bedroom.

“It’s the only way you’ll listen apparently.” You swung your feet as you licked at the scooper.

Guero winced, “fuck. Who am I gonna marry?”

Your eyes snapped to Guero’s then who stared intently at you.

“Marry?”

“Yeah, I said that.” The man dipped his head confidently before saying, “ One day though, only if you want to that is.”

There goes those butterflies with the birds singing to the beat of your heart at his words. Yeah you were being gushy right now but you couldn’t help how Guero Bardales made you feel.

“If you’re gonna kiss me, based on the look in your eye right now, can you maybe twist too so that way I’ll be more prepared and confirm if I’m with it or not?”

“You kinky asshole, you’re so unserious.” You were ready to flick the ice cream right at Guero’s gorgeous face.

He laughed, “what? I’m giving consent but I’m definitely serious about marriage down the line, I won’t lie about that baby.”

“Mhm.” You nodded leaning over for Guero to peck his plump lips with yours.

Before you could go back to your ice cream, he held your face in place—almost studying every surface of it adoringly. It was still early and you didn’t physically feel your greatest or put together for the day yet, so you sorta hated the fact that Guero was being this intimate right now.

“I love you more than anything, you know?”

You nodded without hesitation, “And I love you.”

He smiled at you, cupping your face, which you turned to peck the palm of his hand, giving him equally a loving smile.

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Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

[drewstarkeysbitchh]

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x female! Kook-ish! Reader.

Summary: you were a waitress at the country club and Rafe and his friends have been coming every Friday just to annoy the shit out you.

Warnings: Girly being a funny ass bad fucking bitch. Also the tiniest itty bitty smut at the end. But I don’t write it because it makes me uncomfy.♡♡

A/n: this is like my first ever post. I always just kept to myself because I thought I was too good for you all. No I’m kidding, but I’m a lil nervy. Also I’m no fucking English scholar, so if you see anything that’s not supposed to be there, pretend it’s not there. I put commas where I feel like it, ok bitches?? Btw the I put this song because it’s on repeat rn so you don’t have to listen to it but I do…

You looked up from the table you were serving when you heard a group of guys fucking around. It was the too better for everyone kookiest of kooks. Kelce, Topper, and Rafe. I rolled my eyes because this was the fourth Friday in a row that they decided to eat here.

I wrote down the last kids order and went into the back. I went over to the big group in the back with Alyssa, my best friend. We both wanted to work together, so we got jobs together.

“Their here again.” I say talking about the three group of boys that come here almost every Friday. I jump onto the counter.

“If I keep having to serve them, I think I’m gonna shoot myself.” I say making the group all laugh.

“Well I can’t.” Alyssa says. “Me neither.” “Sorry.” I groan.

“Jesus Christ.” I mumble hopping down. I flip them all off in annoyance.

I walk out and over to the group of ignorant assholes.

“Hello what can I do for you three today!” I say sarcastically.

“What a joyful mood.” Topper laughs making me fake smile.

“Always!” I state.

“Can I just get water.” Topper says.

“Me too.” Kelce adds.

I write it down or else I’ll forget. “And what about you, Princess?” I ask.

“Can I just get water too?” He says not really even asking just stating.

“Of course. Anything for my favorite piece of shit!” I say. He rolls his eyes. He had a fling with one my friends over the summer and totally fucked her over. He knew I hated him.

I walk over to get their waters. I carefully to walk back to their tables and give them each their cups.

“Ok now what do you all want to eat I don’t have all fucking day.” I state.

“Where’d the sweet Stevie go?” Topper says. I laugh not at his joke but at myself, because I think I’m so funny. They all smile with me.

“Can I get some wings?” Topper asks. I nod my head.

“I just want a cheeseburger with fries.” Kelce says. I write it down and look over at Rafe.

“I don’t want anything.” He says. I raise my eyebrows.

“You came to a restaurant and you’re not getting any food?” I laugh.

“I just don’t want to put my sweet little cupcake to work.” He laughs.

“It’s not like I make the food.” I state.

“I’m not hungry.” He says. I stare at him for a second just confused.

“Alright.” I say walking to the back to put their orders in the line. I look back at the table and Alyssa isn’t there. She’s probably doing her job for the first fucking time in her life. I walk over and jump onto the counter.

“Hank, who’s the meanest person you’ve ever met?” I ask the chef, my favorite man in the world.

“My wife.” He laughs making me laugh with him.

“Well I think it’s Rafe Cameron.” I say. “He just so narcissistic and in love with himself. He thinks he can’t do anything wrong and it’s so annoying.”

“Stevie you’re table won’t shut up about wanting you.” Alyssa walks in and says to me.

“What?” I sigh.

“They want you like now.” She says. I groan and jump off the counter.

I walk over to their table. “Oh there she is.” Kelce says.

“What do you assholes want now?” I laugh.

“I want your friend’s number.” Rafe smirks.

“Ok I have shit to do.” I say walking away.

“Please Stevie, I’ll treat her so well I promise.” He smiles even bigger.

“Why don’t you just ask her yourself, dumbass? Why’d you call me all the way over here?” I groan.

“She isn’t over here.” He says.

“She was just here. She said you guys wouldn’t shut the fuck up.” I say.

“She said that?” He smirks.

“Yeah she did. Look either you get it yourself or don’t get it at all. It’s not my problem.” I say.

“Are you jealous Stevie?” He smiles.

I look at him with disgust. “God you’re so conceited. You think everyone is so in love with you.” I roll my eyes.

“You should be a little nicer to me, Stevie. I can get you fired.” He says. I roll my eyes.

“Go ahead. Then you wouldn’t be able to keep fucking up my Friday’s.” I say walking away.

I walk to the front and ask Steve if I can leave early. I make up a fake story. He lets me go. I genuinely don’t think my anger issues could’ve handled anymore of that.

“Alyssa their your problem now.” I say grabbing my keys. She furrows her eyebrows.

“I can’t deal with them anymore. I’m going home.” I say.

I walk out the door and walk home. My house is close enough, there’s no point in even driving. It’s still a ways to walk, though.

After 5 minutes of walking, I see headlights. It’s a truck. A big ass truck. It comes up closer to me. They roll down their window.

“Did I piss you off too much, sweetheart?” It’s Rafe. I roll my eyes as soon as I hear his voice.

“You just don’t know how to fucking quit.” I say.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.” He says. I scoff.

“Hell no.” I say.

“Stevie don’t be such a determined fucking bitch and get in the car.” He says.

“You know when you call me a bitch it just makes me want to hop in you’re truck so much more.” I say.

“Stevie, I know you don’t want to walk all the way home.” He says. I sigh and walk over to the passenger seat. He was right I didn’t want to walk all the way home.

“You’re still an asshole.” I say. He laughs.

“What even happened? We used to be friends.” He asks.

“Well you cheated on Lily. I mean there’s so many reasons why I fucking hate you, but that’s a big one.” I say.

“Alright I didn’t cheat on her.” He says making me mentally orbit around the fucking moon.

“Oh right you just slept with someone that wasn’t Lily, sorry I don’t know what I was thinking.” I say.

“That’s what she told you?” He scoffs.

“Yeah?” I say.

“I didn’t cheat on her.” He says.

“Well then what did you do Rafe?” I ask.

“I just stopped liking her I don’t know. I tried to tell her in a nice way, but she went fucking psycho on me.” He says.

“You just stopped liking her? How do you just stop liking her?” I ask.

“I don’t know like how you stopped liking Joe.” He says, bringing up my ex.

“Ok that’s different. We both agreed we didn’t feel anything anymore.” I say.

“I stopped liking Lily, because I started liking her friend.” He says looking at me for a second.

“That’s not fucked up at all.” I say. He rolls his eyes.

“Who was it? Alyssa??” I ask.

“No it wasn’t Alyssa.” He says.

“Then why did you want her number?” I ask. He pauses. The car gets really quiet.

“I wanted to see how you’d react.” He says.

“See how I’d react? Why would you care what I thought?” I ask. We sit there for a minute in complete silence.

“It was you, Stevie. Jesus Christ, you were the friend that I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about. Every time you’d come over with you’re stupid little boyfriend, I was never looking at Lily, I was always watching you. I couldn’t do anything because you had a boyfriend and I was dating Lily.” He says making me audibly gasp. Ok not literally but I was in pure shock.

“No fucking shit.” I laugh. He scoffs.

“Fuck off.” He says making me laugh.

“I used to like you too. I was like in love with you in 8th grade.” I say. “It was when I met Sarah and came over to you’re house everyday. To be honest, I only went over there to see you.”

He laughs. “Shut up.” I scoff. “It’s weird we both used to like each other.” He looks at me.

“I never stopped, Stevie.” He says.

“What?” My voice shakes.

“I never stopped liking you.” He says making me gulp really loudly. I stare at him. I’m so nervous right now I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. He starts to lean in and my heart starts beating faster.

I don’t pull away so this has to mean I feel the same. He puts his hand on my face. Our lips finally touch and I realize I like it. He picks up my thighs and sets me on top of him.

I can’t believe of all things that could’ve happened today, I’m in Rafe Cameron’s car about to fuck.

[rexferguson]

so, you’re telling me that hailey, who didn’t take off her ring for the presumably months that jay didn’t answer his phone (not even when she found out he applied for an extension from his supervisor!), who never once talked shit on his name, who leaves him messages telling him she understands, who encapsulated their apartment from the time her husband left, who said “miss you, love you” maybe 24 hours before, just decided to take off her ring on her own accord and we’re supposed to believe that? that’s the storyline they think we’ll buy into? it’s not an honorable memory for jay halstead because jay halstead would never do that. it’s a shitty take on a couple who fought tooth and nail to be together when they were put through the ringer. two characters that stood by each other’s sides, brought each other out from the dark time and time again both as partners, friends, boyfriend and girlfriend, and husband and wife who were summed up to both doing something as an act of self preservation when their only form of actually self preservation in the shithole that is intelligence was ALWAYS EACH OTHER! hailey should have never been put in the position she’s in, but sadly, with the way the writing has been going for her all season… she’s a ghost of who she is at the core. she can’t just endure trauma after trauma and be expected to be okay at the end of it all. especially when the people she has in their life either 1) can’t be bothered to care about her at all (looking at the team who has known her for years tbh because what the fuck?) or 2) continuously abuse her vulnerability as a means to wear her down. the latter of which hank voight does all the time. he’s either scolding her or pretending like he cares, all in the name of achieving a certain outcome. sometimes both at the same time. last night was a perfect example. the hailey that sits and drinks with him and apparently takes relationship advice isn’t OUR hailey. it’s not the hailey who was pissed that this man was dragging her husband down with him like he also tried to do to her. so, who is this version of hailey upton aside from someone who thinks they deserve the pain they keep putting her through? how did “i swear to you that we’re going to get through this because you’re the love of my life” turn into ignoring phone calls and never coming home and “miss you, love you” turn into hailey taking off her ring? it’s a joke. it’s pain for the sake of pain. there’s no light that comes from any of this. it’s not growth or healing or digging yourself out from the dirt. it’s inexcusably bad writing.

tracy deserves better. jesse deserves better. hailey and jay, both as characters and as the couple we all know and love, deserve better. my heart hurts for them. and for us.

[citygirlcharlotte]

The Sister Halstead (Part 12)

Pairings: Hank Voight x Female OC, Will & Jay Halstead x Sister!OC

Note: Guess who's back!

Warning: None

As I suspected, Henry looked slightly miserable standing amongst my father and brothers who have conveniently found a group of my fathers friends to chat up. 

“Baby?” I said, garnering his attention. 

I could see the relief on his face as he pulled me in for a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

“About time you got here.” He grumbled. 

“Is that little charlotte?” A booming voice echoed from behind Hank. I turned around to see the mob of my fathers friends suddenly less interested in their conversation and too focused on me. 

“In the flesh, but I’m not so little anymore.” I joked. 5 of my dads old buddies as well as uncle Ward stood gawking. 

“My my, have you grown.” One commented super creepily. 

Jay looked at him like “The Fuck”.

I had to spend the next 10 minutes catching up with those old timers before the baby got hungry and I demanded we get lunch. 

“How was golfing?” My mom asked. 

Jay and Henry let out a groan of discontent while Will and my dad started bragging about their swings. 

“Let’s just say that I’m a better cop than a golfer.” Jay joked. 

“I second that.” Henry agreed. 

Everything on the menu seemed to be calling my name at this point but the steak and lobster seemed to be the best. 

“Seriously, what is this detox you’re on that you eat steak and lobster?” Jay grumbled. 

“It’s a girl thing, you would get it.” I told him, refusing the alcohol that got sent to the table by my dads friends. 

“You’re not drinking again? Good, you’ll be DD.” My mom joked. 

Lunch went by relatively easily with me stuffing my face and stealing off of Henry and Jay’s plates. 

“So Henry, tell me about yourself.” My mom started.

I glanced over, seeing if he would be comfortable answering the question and watching him down his scotch. 

“There’s not much to me ma’am. I spend most of my time being a cop and loving your daughter.” He joked, trying to coast past the subject. 

“Do you have any kids?” She asked persistently. I glared at my mother because she already knew the answer to that. 

“My son Justin passed away.” He replied quietly. 

I gently grabbed his hand under the table as will successfully changed the subject.

“You have to tell us what Charlie was like as a kid.” He gushed, engaging both of my parents. 

“Charlie was her fathers shadow! There’s nothing Charles did that she wasn’t right behind him or attached to his leg. I swear this girl got everything she ever wanted because she batted her eyes and said please.” My mom laughed. 

“I was her favorite until she got over cooties and all the boys came knocking on our door.” My dad added. We spiraled into old boyfriend stories and bad prom nights before someone approached our table. 

“Lottie?” A voice asked. 

I turned to the side to an ex-boyfriend, one I particularly am not fond of. 

“Oh fuck no.” I swore, trying to shoo him away before my mom scolded me for being rude. 

“Daemon, how good to see you!” She beamed, getting up to pull him into a hug. 

I slowly retreated into Henry’s side as Jay moved closer to us. 

“Aren’t you going to say hi?” My dad asked, moving to shake my ex’s hand. 

“Daemon.” I scowled, making no effort to move. 

“Good to see you Lottie, it’s been a while. You haven’t been around much.” He smiled. 

I debated throwing my steak knife at his face but decided better of it. 

“No reason to come back.” 

That earned me a glare from my mother. 

“Who’s this guy?” Jay whispered at me.

“Cheating ex-boyfriend.” I whispered back. 

“Whose these guys?” Daemon asked, eyeing the whispering. 

“Brother, brother, boyfriend.” I carelessly pointed out. This man was not worth any of my energy. 

“Brothers? You never told me you had brothers.” He asked.

“Surprise.”

“Are you in town long? I’d love to catch up.” He tried.

“I don’t associate with cheating ex’s but it was interesting to see you. I hope we never have this experience again.” I smiled, flipping him off before leaning my back to Henry’s shoulder. 

“You cheated on my daughter?” My dad gasped, seemingly not knowing this information. 

“Um, I should go.” Daemon back pedaled. 

“You should run.” Jay smirked.

“Want me to kill him?” Henry whispered to me.

“He’s not worth it.” I smiled, giving him a soft kiss. 

I could hear Will and Jay gaging at the table. 

“Still not used to that.” Jay mumbled. 

“How is it Jay? Your sister dating your boss.” My dad asked, trying to gauge a reaction. 

“Don’t love it but I try to ignore it since Charlie’s happy.” He replied. 

“Here here.” Will agreed, raising his drink. 

“I think it’s cute. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Charlie in love.” My mom commented. 

“Mom.” I whined like a little girl. 

“Just saying.” 

We ended up escaping the country club in favor of lounging my the pool that afternoon. It was hilarious to see Jay and Will on top of flamingo and unicorn inflatables. It was even funnier to see Henry in swim shorts with palm trees. 

“Really honey? This is what you packed?” he complained as he approached me. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mom subtly checking him out. 

“Mother!” I scolded, hitting her with my book. 

“Sorry sweetie, he was in my line of site!” She defended, cracking up laughing. 

“Leave room for jesus you two!” Will called from the pull. 

“Shut up carrot top.” I yelled back. 

“You have the same hair dummy.” Jay reminded. 

“See sweetie, this is what it would have been like 24/7 if you grew up with brothers. You should be lucky you got a break before this.” My dad commented.

“She loves us. I don’t think she could live without us at this point.” Will laughed. 

“And I don’t plan on it!” 

I ended up getting really tired and turning into Henry's side. He’s gotten into the habit of holding my stomach while we sleep and today was no exception. I personally thought it was adorable. 

When everyone thought I was asleep, that’s when the real questioning started.

“How did you meet our dad.” Jay asked my mom. 

“At a bar. I was barely 21 and about to leave Chicago for college when I stumbled upon your father. I figured why not be a little wild just this once and let loose. I found out 3 months into the semester that I was pregnant with Charlie and tracked your dad down planning to at least let him know but when I got to the house, I saw the two of you running around the back yard and him watching you two from the porch. I knew then that I didn’t want to hurt anyone so I left and never looked back.” I heard her confess. 

“If it makes you feel better, he wasn’t a good dad. Charlie was lucky to have grown up with you guys.” Jay lamented. 

“I heard he passed, my condolences.” My mom offered. 

“Thanks.” Will accepted. 

“We know it’s no consolation but we’re really glad Charlie found you guys. We encouraged her to reach out as soon as the PI gave her your information. We also appreciate you two, really the three of you taking care of our little girl. You guys are her family which make you our family.” My dad explained. 

“We love that girl. I didn’t realize I needed a sister until her and it’s like she’s been apart of our lives the whole time.” 

“That’s because the two of you make me look adopted.” Jay snorted. 

“It’s the hair, what can I say?” Will snorted. 

I found myself tearing up at their little confessional and Henry could feel my tears on his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He asked me. 

“Damn hormones.” I confessed. 

He nodded understandingly before kissing my forehead. 

“And you Henry? Is this for the long run?” 

“It is. I could see us being happy together for a very long time.” He smiled. 

Before we parted the pool, getting ready to clean up for dinner I pulled Henry aside. 

“I want to tell them.” 

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