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cherryblossom-heart · 21 days ago

Text

Do I still wish it was you?

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Masterlist (If you're into marvel)

Summary: You were content in the darkness his absence had left you, his memory keeping you focused on one plan. It had to be a white-haired sorcerer with an annoying personality and the bluest eyes you had ever seen—the one who came and saved you from it.

12.7 k words

Content warning: ANGST, mentions of suicide, depression, violence, grief, past Toji x Reader, foul language, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all). fluff, Satoru is the sweet, jumping from a building but not a bad way, fighting, fReader

A/N: Ik this is out of my usual content but I can't get over the JJK men so, I hope you guy's like it. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. 😊

Sweat covered your forehead as you fought to recover your breath, the smell of sex and humanity filled his bedroom along with the sound of heavy breathing. It took a couple of minutes for you to finally stand from the bed, making your way to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. Naked, disheveled hair, flushed skin along with droplets of sweat, and a minor bruise on your collarbone, the result of a certain white haired sorcerer’s lack of restraint. A small smile placed on your lips before you could stop it as you touched it, the skin still a little tender.

Your sight landed on the small tattoo you had on the left side of your chest, a small black lined heliotrope carefully placed on top of your heart. A prickling sensation invaded your eyes along with the painful sensation of guilt, what were you even doing here? How could you smile when he was gone?

The feelings didn’t get a chance of nesting in you though, as firm hands wrapped around waist and lips caressed your neck. Your sight darted to the mirror, meeting the most breath taking blue eyes you had ever seen along with a smile.

“If you don’t get any clothes on, I might have to fuck you again.”

You smiled at him, desire igniting again as he’s hands caressed your skin.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

A cocky smirk showed up on his face, not that it was unusual to see it. Satoru Gojo was nothing but confident, sometimes overstepping to egocentric, but you would be damned if you didn’t admit he had good reasons for it.

His lips brushed your ear, hot breath hitting your skin.

“It’s a promise that I very much intent to fulfill.”

Satoru Gojo was going to be the death of you.

Correction, Satoru Gojo was going to be the reason you would live.

You hadn’t planned for this. You had a set plan: to become a sorceress, completing missions, breaking curses, and fighting battles, one after another. A non stop cycle of violence and war until your body gave out and if death came for you, it wouldn’t bother you. You would receive it as a long awaited friend as nothing mattered to you anymore, never since the day he died.

He was supposed to meet you back at your apartment in Kyoto, he had promised you he would be there. You waited for hours, and hours turned into days and days turned into weeks.

The last thing you heard him was a couple of text messages that read:

Job’s almost done. Maybe we should take

a vacation, go to Las Vegas and stay at

one of those casino/hotels you were talking

about. 11:13 pm

Anyway, I’ll see you in two days. I’ve

missed you. 11:14 pm

He vanished without a trace after that.

You moved to Tokyo as you were tracing his last steps. You had talked to Kong, who could not give you any answers. Years of dead ends and unanswered questions finally led you to give up. That day, you drank yourself to sleep.

Everyone was sure he had left you behind, taken his payment for his last job, and left the country. You couldn’t blame them, it was on brand for him to do something alike, but this wasn’t the case. You knew he wouldn’t do that to you, not when he promised he would see you.

There was also this strange feeling that had settled on your chest the day after his text. It had taken you by surprise as you were just having lunch and suddenly a sharp pain hit you in the chest and the sensation that something had gone wrong hit you. You had thought it was just stress of not seeing him, maybe a little of an overreaction from you, but as time passed, the emptiness in your chest never left.

He was dead.

After over a year of wandering aimlessly in Tokyo, a certain blue-eyed sorcerer found you. You felt his stare while you were getting your coffee, the burning sensation of a powerful presence followed you around the streets of the city. You pretended you were oblivious to it, changing your path every once in a while to double check you were being tailed.

Once the amount of people around you dissipated, you made your way to a bench in the park, sitting in it so calmly it almost seemed everything was normal for your follower. That was until you looked to the buildings on your left, your eyes connecting with a white-haired man with blackened Windsor glasses. For a second he looked surprised, as it was almost impossible that you could’ve sensed him, but a playful smiled replaced it as soon as it came.

It took him less that 60 seconds to come to approach, you crossed your legs once you felt a presence taking the remaining space in the bench you had sat on. Even when you didn’t look at him, you could still feel that cocky smile on him.

“How did you know I was following you?” He questioned, his arms spreading along the back of the bench as he made himself comfortable.

You took a sip of your coffee. “I could feel you.” You said, nonchalantly. Imitating him, you leaned back. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I teleported.” He shrugged.

“Huh, interesting.”

“You don’t seem surprised at all.” He turned around to look at you.

“Why would seeing a Jujutsu Sorcerer surprise me?” you asked, now facing him.

The air in your lungs almost disappeared as you found two blue eyes peaking over his glasses, it was almost as if they could see inside your soul. The shiny speckles that seemed to dance around his iris called you, entrancing you into looking at them longer.

Was that his power? Who was this man and why was he stalking you?

“So you know about Jujutsu Society?”

“What does it matter to you?” You barked, your harsh tone only making him smile more. “Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck are you following me?”

He lifted his hands. “Woah there princess, I don’t mean any harm, I promise.” He extended his right hand to you. “I’m Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer in the world.” He winked as you shook his hand.

You rolled your eyes the pet name and his ego. “Sure you are.”

At the moment you didn’t believe him, thinking he was just an over confident asshole that was just pushing your buttons. Looking back, it made you chuckle at how wrong you were.

He laughed, amused at your response. “You really are something else, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you just tell me what do you want?” You huff, already exasperated by him.

Blue eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell me about that special grade knife you keep in that purse?”

Your pulse picked up, the feeling of your heart smashing against your ribcage so hard you felt it would burst out. You couldn’t let him take it, he gave it to you. Perhaps you were too obvious with your worries though, as his eyes traveled to the tight grip you had suddenly imposed on your bag.

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking it away.” He reassured you. “I was assigned to take it, but now you’ve captured my attention. I have a hunch you’re much more interesting than that old piece of steel.”

You had found yourself entangled in the world of Jujutsu, at least more than you already were.

He had told you about the sorcerer world, the clans, the sorcerers, the customs, the curses, and everything that came along with that. You had known you had abilities to see things no one else seemed to notice, abilities to get rid of the monsters that crawled all over the world that you had perfected on your own, but you were never sure what to call them or what to call yourself.

Not until a black-haired man with green eyes and a purple worm surrounding him bumped you in the street. A man whose name you couldn’t even mutter without breaking down.

Now you had joined the same world he despised and worked alongside the same people he hated. The sorcerer world had found your abilities useful, at least for the time being, and they had decided, with some pressure from Satoru, that you could be a good addition to their dwelling numbers.

You didn’t like working for them; you didn’t want to do it for a long time, but you had thought it was a good way to just let go and prepare yourself for death. A jujutsu sorcerer's life span was never long; sooner than later they would find their demise. Sure, you could just kill yourself; it would probably be way faster, but if there was an afterlife and you found him there, he would be disappointed in you. Besides, it reminded you of him; he had helped you be as strong as you currently were.

So you fought, day and night; you took whatever they had; there was no small or too big of a curse for you to take. Everything seemed fine for a while; you were content with how things were for a week, until Satoru decided to intervene.

An annoying little prick—that’s what you usually describe him as. His interest in you hadn’t dwindled even after you agreed to join him; it even seemed to have made things worse. He pestered you, following you around with a cocky attitude and bad jokes, forcing you to go with him to places just so he could buy desserts. He got in the way with your missions, babysitting you in as many as he could.

The thing that annoyed you the most was the fact that he was always looking at you, not in a weird, sexual kind of way that you could’ve handled, but he did it in a way that it felt he was trying to look into your soul. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes behind the black pair of glasses, you could still feel the burn of his stare on your skin. It felt as if he wanted to know all your secrets, and for the same reason you tried to stay away from him, but the more you tried to do it, the more he seemed to put an effort into crushing it.

Satoru Gojo was the bane of your existence.

“I told you it was a good idea to get this peach daifuku for the way home.” He said, mouth full of food. “Want one?”

“Sure.” You muttered, snatching it out of his hand.

This was the third time in a week he had decided to come with you for a mission, your patience running thin the more time you spent with the white-haired sorcerer. You had done your job without any hiccups, and the worst part about it was that it seemed he wasn’t even there to intervene if anything did happen, evidently by his relaxed stance along with his arms crossing his chest.

That could only mean that he was tasked with babysitting you or he had actively chosen to follow you everywhere, and you didn’t know which one was worse.

“Hey, Gojo...” you started, unsure on how to make your point. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know that, right? I think I’ve shown you I’m capable enough of doing this.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” He answered, lazily stretching his arms along the subway seats.

“Then why are you here?” You questioned, slapping away the arm that was on your side.

“Cause I like keeping you company.”

Cocky blue eyes met yours, except this time they weren’t all cocky; they were sincere. They looked at you with precaution, gaging your reaction towards his words as if they were almost afraid to scare you away.

You didn’t give an answer to his words, opting instead for eating your snack in silence. Maybe it was worse that he had been babysitting you; if that had been the case, you wouldn’t have had a small smile on your face.

A knock on your door woke you from your impromptu nap; the banging was so loud it reverberated throughout the house. You looked at your watch and noticed that it was only 7 p.m., but that didn't make it any better; whoever it was, you wanted to kill them.

With angry footsteps you made your way to the door, not caring that it looked like you had just woken up.

"What?!" You yelled, flinging the door open.

Your sight was flooded with snacks and movies before revealing Satoru, his glasses slightly tilted down as he looked at your clothes.

"Nice outfit." He winked.

Suddenly you realized that the only thing you were wearing was a gray sweater, barely big enough to cover your thighs. You pulled the sweater down, warmth infiltrating your face.

"Why are you here?"

"Movie night." He said simply, pushing his way into your apartment.

Once he was in the living room, his eyes scanned his surroundings, which in turn made you a little too aware that your apartment was too empty, almost as if no one lived there.

"I don't remember inviting you." You pinched the bridge of your nose, sure a migraine was on its way.

"Hey, it's not like you have anything better to do."

After a few seconds of delivery, you grabbed the bag of instant popcorn to make it in your microwave, rolling your eyes at his smile.

Maybe it was because you were too tired to argue with him; having just woken up, your brain wasn't working so well. Maybe it was because you knew it would take less time to go along with his shenanigans than it would to argue with him.

Or maybe, just maybe, you felt lonely. Sure, Satoru wasn't your first choice, but he seemed to want to be there, even when you tried to keep away from him. There was something about his persistence that made you smile, almost like a puppy you couldn't keep away.

If you were honest, he wasn't that bad. In another life, you might have enjoyed his company, maybe even become friends, but you weren't interested in anyone else coming into your life, not with a hole in your chest with a name on it.

But just for one night, you decided to give in.

You sat down next to him and put the bowl of popcorn between you. "So what are we watching?"

"This." He handed you a DVD case with a foreign title on it, Italian, it seemed. “The movie is great; there's a lot of action; the only bummer is the main guy dies.”

You slapped his arm.

"Thanks, dickhead. Way to spoil the movie."

“Don’t be a cry baby; you could’ve guessed it within the first 10 minutes of the movie.”

You scoffed. "You don't know that."

"Sorry, my bad." He raised his hands. "You're acting like I said the main guy's love interest turns out to be working for the bad guys."

"Dude!"

He laughed, the echo of his voice resounding along the walls.

"I can't believe you fell for that."

"Just play the stupid movie."

You ended up watching two more movies that night before you both fell asleep. And in the warmth and comfort of your lonely apartment, it was the first time in a long time that you didn't think of green eyes and black hair before you closed your eyes.

"Ah, come on. You need to give me more details." Satoru complained, walking alongside you.

"I don't have to give you shit."

It had been a few months since that movie night and you had found yourself not completely rejecting Gojo's presence, and on good days, you would say you enjoyed it. You didn't argue as much when he joined you on missions, and you didn't fight him when he wanted you to go with him to get something to eat or to your apartment to watch a movie. It was... a routine of sorts, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it at least a little.

"You can't just tell me you have a tattoo and not tell me what or where it is."

"And you'll never know."

He hurried his steps, standing in front of you, but walking backwards. He put his hands together and begged you to answer.

"Please, you must tell me, the secret could kill me. What would you do if the strongest sorcerer in the world died and it's all your fault?"

"I'd probably throw a party." You snorted.

Satoru, the drama queen he always was, put his hands over his heart, a playful 'ouch' escaping his lips.

"You hurt me, Princess. I thought you would be devastated if something happened to me." Gojo pouted, the sight making you chuckle slightly.

"Oh yes, absolutely. I would mourn you for at least ten years." You joked.

"Make it fifteen and I might consider forgiving you." He winked.

You made your way through the busy streets of Tokyo until you found yourselves standing in line for coffee, the cozy environment of the place giving you a sense of warmth.

"If I pay for your drink, will you tell me about your tattoo?" He whispered next to your ear.

The smell of his mouthwash hit your nostrils, the cool mint scent lingering in your mind for a few seconds.

"It's going to take a lot more than a bad cup of coffee for me to tell you this."

He rolled his eyes, arms outstretched in defeat as he wrapped one of them around your shoulders. You shook your shoulder, trying to get him off of you, but he didn't budge. You told yourself that just for once you would allow it.

"How about dinner sometime? Would that be enough for you to tell me?" He said casually.

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised in disbelief, thinking he was joking. Although the way he had said it made you think for a second that it was real and there was another intention behind his invitation. That thought only lasted a second as you found it impossible that he was talking about a date, so you played along.

Your eyes turned back forward as you shrugged. “Depends where you take me. Spend enough money on me and I might give you a hint."

"Oh, you're one of those girls?" He chuckled. "You only go out with someone who takes you to expensive places and showers you with gifts?"

"Well, Gojo... if you want to know all my deepest, darkest secrets, you might as well try a little harder."

Silence fell upon you, making you think the conversation was over, but a few minutes later he spoke again, surprising you with his words.

"Alright, I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight."

The dim lights of the restaurant made for a more private, intimate atmosphere. Gojo had actually kept his promise, you could tell the restaurant was way over your budget, the cutlery alone seemed to have cost a fortune. The waiter had been very attentive, leading you both to a table at the back of the restaurant and taking your coat to put it away.

Once the two of you were alone, you had assured Satoru that you had only been joking, that you had not really taken his offer seriously.

"Why did you come?" He asked, taking a bite out of the appetizer he had ordered.

"I mean, who am I to turn down free food?"

He chuckled, "And what do you think so far? Worth your time?"

"Ask me after dessert and I'll give you an answer."

Dinner continued with ease, and after a few glasses of wine, you began to laugh at his jokes and make some of your own. You never thought that spending time with Satoru would make you so... happy? You weren't even sure how to describe it, the only thing you knew was that it wasn't horrible.

It was actually quite nice. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to get to know someone.

You talked about where you grew up, how you got your powers, and about your family. In return, he talked about his clan, how he had mastered his powers and about some of his years at Jujutsu High. You talked about little things, your hobbies, your favorite color and your favorite movies.

Talking with Satoru made you realize that you knew so little about him, even though you had known each other for almost a year. Sure, you knew some little details here and there, but you never went in depth, to you, Satoru was nothing more than a pain in the ass and a pawn of the Jujutsu society. Unfortunately, it seemed that almost everyone else thought the same.

That night, you realized that only a handful of people saw him as Satoru instead of Gojo, the greatest defender in the Jujutsu society. Perhaps that was why, despite his colorful personality, he seemed lonely. He seemed to be missing someone in his life who would see him as something other than the power he was born with. For whatever reason, this thought made your heart ache.

Throughout the night, you found yourself staring at him more than usual, noticing every little detail of his face. You noticed the way his hair sometimes fell over his eyes, the way his smile showed most of his teeth, the wrinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. You also noticed the tenderness of his eyes, how every so often he looked at you in a way that would make your heart hammer against your chest or the way he would look at your lips every so often and you weren’t sure if he knew you noticed or he just didn’t care.

At the end of the night, you were having trouble deciding which dessert to get, not sure whether to get the cheesecake or the assorted mochi, so he told you to get both.

"I don't believe you, there's no way you don't have hobbies."

He laughed. "I really don't. I'm just too good at everything I do."

You rolled your eyes at him. "And you have the biggest ego I've ever seen in my life."

"Some would call it ego, I call it confidence. And well deserved."

You finished your last mochi, enjoying the last bit of strawberry flavor. As soon as you had taken the last bite, Satoru spoke eagerly.

"So, was this dinner good enough for you to tell me about your tattoo?"

You pretended to hesitate for a second, but you had to hand it to him, he went all out.

"I guess I have to tell you now that you spent so much money on it." You said with a sigh.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, pumping one of his fists in the air.

"Don't get too excited, it's nothing too scandalous." You pulled your cleavage to the side, exposing the left side of your chest.

His eyes locked on the drawing on your skin, heat burning inside you the longer he stared.

"It's a flower?"

You nodded. "It's a heliotrope."

"What does that mean?"

Your voice wavered, your chest tightening. You couldn't talk about it. You didn't want to. But you couldn't show him.

"That's a story for another time."

As much of an asshole as you thought Satoru was, you knew he wasn't an idiot, he understood that you didn't want to talk about it, so he seemed to let it go.

"Alright, that's fair. I got a lot of secrets tonight." He stood up and straightened his black suit. "I'm going to go to the bathroom real quick and then we can go, is that okay?"

"Sure, take your time."

You lost sight of him as he turned the corner and your mind wandered over everything that had happened tonight. You hadn't expected that Satoru would actually buy you dinner and in such a place, and even though you knew that this was just a peasant's change for him, it still surprised you.

You were also surprised by how... human he was. He had surprised you once when he told you about the children he was sponsoring and taking care of, since their parents were nowhere to be found. You didn't get the change to ask for their names, but you were sure you would get another one, you were sure Satoru wasn't done surprising you.

A man called your name and made you look up.

Shiu Kong stood in front of you, his desvihebeled appearance intact, except for the way he had done his hair, a small attempt to soothe it.

"Kong." You said as you stood up. You shook his hand in greeting, wanting to get this conversation over with before Gojo returned. "What brings you here? Pleasure or business?"

"You know it's always business." He scoffed. His eyes took a double look at your dress before a small grin appeared on his face. "I would ask the same, but it looks like it's all pleasure for you."

"I guess you could call it that." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Neither of you said anything for a second. It wasn't like you were friends, you were barely a step above strangers and the only connection you had was gone. Fortunately, Shiu broke the silence.

"I never expected to see you here." He cleared his throat. "It's good to see you moved on."

Her heart fell to the ground, replaced by a painful sting.

"I... no, it's not like that." You tried to explain, your words stumbling.

Why did you try to justify yourself? This wasn't a date, was it?

"Hey, I'm not asking for explanations." He said. "I'm not judging you, it's been a while since anyone has heard from Toji."

Toji.

His name came back to haunt you as if it was the first day he didn't go home. The pain was excruciating, almost blinding you to the point of passing out. You hadn't heard his name in over a year, you didn't even dare to say it.

That was a date, right? What the hell were you doing going on a date with Satoru Gojo? How could you do that to Toji's memory? How could you be in a restaurant, laughing and enjoying the company of someone who wasn't his? A sorcerer nonetheless?

How could you?

A man in a suit called out to Kong, motioning for him to come over to where he was.

"Anyway, I have to go now. Have a good life, kid."

You barely registered his handshake or when he walked away, all you could do was stand there and try not to collapse. The sudden realization hit you, you hadn’t thought of him throughout this whole night, only at the very end of it.

You had forgotten him.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, worried blue eyes looking at you through the usual black glasses.

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked, worry lacing his words.

No.

How could you be okay when you forgot him? How could you even do that?

You didn't know what to do, the hole in your chest threatened to swallow you whole. It was what you deserved.

"I-I have to go." You said simply.

With quick movements, you grabbed your purse and made your way to the exit. You didn't care about getting your coat, not when your lungs couldn't breathe, each inhale bringing you closer to suffocation.

The heels you wore hindered your steps, almost causing you to trip twice. With frantic movements, you kicked them off, your bare feet touching the streets of Tokyo as you tried to run from the white-haired sorcerer who kept calling your name.

Calls and texts flooded your phone, finally forcing you to turn it off.

You avoided Satoru after that.

"The wound will heal in no time, but I would still recommend you to take a few days off." Shoko said as she took off her gloves.

"I'll think about it." You said, no real promise behind your words.

Shoko looked at you, studying your face carefully. You knew what she saw, the dark circles, the carelessness of your appearance. But most of all, the pain behind your eyes. Maybe a while ago you would have been careful, trying to hide it so no one could see it, but at this point you didn't really care anymore.

As you rolled your shirt down to cover your torso and the large cut that had been made there, the door burst open, making both of you jump.

Satoru entered the room, taking strong and determined steps towards you, and within seconds he was standing next to you. He lifted your shirt just enough to get a glimpse of the damage the curse had caused, cold fingers poking at the newly healed skin.

It took you a few seconds to snap out of it, but eventually you were aware of how close he was and how exposed you felt.

"What the hell are you doing?" You barked, taking a step away from him and dropping your shirt.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He repeated, an incredulous tone in his words. "What the hell were you thinking? We were supposed to go on this mission together."

You got his text, along with several others telling you to wait for him before going in. Just like the ones you got before, this one was ignored.

"I don't remember asking for a partner."

He scoffed. “You can’t be serious right now? You almost fucking died and you’re mad at me for wanting to go with you.”

"I don't need your help!"

"You do when you've been trying to get yourself killed ever since I met you!" He shouted, his chest heaving with anger as he came closer to you.

"Satoru-" The doctor tried to intervene but Gojo stopped her.

"Stay out of this, Shoko."

"So what if I am?" You said and came closer to him.

"Do you know how fucking crazy this is?" His hands went to his hair and pulled it back in despair. "You've had a bad life? Tough shit, everyone here has been through tough times, you think that makes you special? That somehow that makes it okay for you to say fuck it and act so fucking stupid?"

His words burned deep inside you, you didn't know what he was talking about. He couldn't even imagine how it felt. He knew the effect of his words, but he kept going.

"You want to know why I still go on missions with you? Because of shit like this. Not only will you get yourself killed, but you might end up hurting someone else. Is that what you want? Don't you care about anything but your own selfishness?"

Your eyes began to sting, his face just inches from yours. Blue eyes were once more focused on you, once again searching in your soul. This time though, you could see something in them, a type of pain you didn’t understand. It almost made you back away.

Almost.

"My life is none of your damn business. Drop the 'savior' complex and stay the fuck out of my life." You pushed him away. "We're not friends, I can barely stand you, and I sure as hell don't need you pestering me with whatever this is. Stay. The. Fuck. Away."

His hands became fists and you thought he was going to grab you, maybe even shake you. Instead, he walked away, the only remnant of his presence being the sandalwood scent of his cologne. You stood there for a while, your chest heaving as you tried to fight back the tears.

"He's not wrong, you know?" Shoko spoke, her voice startling you. For a moment, you forgot that she was in the room. "It's pretty obvious that you're trying to get yourself killed."

You thought about arguing with her the same way you had with Gojo, only you didn't have the energy anymore, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sat back in the chair where you had been examined, your head hanging from your shoulders.

"I don't know what to tell you, Shoko. Life sucks."

She laughed. "Yeah, I'll give you that much." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She grabbed one before holding her arm out to you. "You want one?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

"Not today, sorry. Cigarette is the best I can offer."

You took one out and put it between your lips. Shoko lit yours before hers, the smoke filling your lungs immediately. The raw sensation in your throat almost made you forget your pain, a good side effect you more than welcomed.

“I know that Satoru can be a little too much but he means well.“ She paused, trying to find the right words. "We have seen this before with one of our classmates, not exactly the same, but close enough. He was Satoru's best friend."

You were surprised, not once had he ever mentioned it, although you hadn't exactly asked questions about his life, not until this dinner.

"Is he dead?" was the only thing you could think of to ask.

"Oh, no. He's very much alive, he's just..." She took a drag on the cigarette. "I don't think it's my place to tell you this, so let's just say that things have gone very badly for him. So you can understand why he's a little worried about you."

Neither of you said much after that, preferring to smoke in silence. Shoko's words made sense to you, there was always a hint of sadness when Satoru talked about his school days. Even when he smiled and told you about his pranks as a teenager, at the very end of his stories, his eyes would flash with pain, just for a second.

After a few minutes, you finished your cigarette, stubbing it out on the sole of your shoe. You thanked Shoko for her care and for the cigarette as you made your way to the door until she called your name.

"Satoru told me about your dinner and how you avoided him." Heat flushed your cheeks, slightly embarrassed that someone else was aware of your actions. "I like you and I don't know what's going on between you two and it's none of my business, but he's my friend." Her eyes hardened as she spoke. "So don't hurt him or I'll have to hurt you. Don't make me hurt you."

Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment, the look in Shoko's tired eyes replaced by a certainty that sent shivers down your spine.

"I'll try not to."

Rain in Tokyo always seemed to take you by surprise, especially because you always forgot to check the weather before going out. It was something you weren't used to, but every time you were forced to run in the rain, you told yourself you'd remember next time.

With a plastic take-out bag in your hand and your leather purse covering your hair, you ran like hell through the sea of umbrellas. You looked at your watch once you reached the stop sign, sighing at the time.

10:45 a.m.

"Shit." You muttered.

You could still make it, you tried to tell yourself. As soon as the light changed and you were able to cross the street, you took off. The purse you held over your head hindered your movements, so you had decided to just let it hang by your side as you rushed through the streets, making your way back to the school.

After a few instances of almost slipping and a few assholes passing you with their cars and making it their business to splash you with the water pooled next to the sidewalk, you finally arrived, the food still safe in your hand. You reached the building, wet marks leaving a trail behind you, and you checked the time.

10:59 a.m.

Yes.

Finally reaching the classroom you wanted, you stood outside. Voices could still be heard from the inside of the room, relief washing over you as you decided you wait outside. Only you felt the cold sensation of your wet clothes, making you shiver unconsciously.

The door flung open, a group of teenagers stopping in their tracks as soon as they saw you. They looked at you, confused not only to see you there, but at the state of your clothes.

"Uh-" one of them tried to speak, but you cut him off.

“Out. Now.”

With a quick pace, they left. You took a deep breath before venturing inside the room.

Satoru sat on top of a desk at the back of the room, eyes focused on his phone. He seemed to be typing a message, a mask of worry as he seemed to type and delete over and over again. You stayed by the door, words dying on your throat. What were you supposed to say? Should you just say hi and pretend everything is good even though you haven’t spoken in weeks? Or just go right to the point and apologize?

A ding from your phone brought back your attention, as well as Satoru’s. Your eyes widened, feeling as if you had gotten caught somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You reached for your phone, glad that it was still dry enough to still function.

A small smile formed on your lips.

Greatest Pain in the Ass

Hey, 10:01 a.m.

You looked back at him, a light rose tinge spreading through his cheeks.

“Hi.” You said with a shy smile.

“Why are you soaking wet?” He questioned, eyes scanning your appearance.

“It’s raining outside.”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “You forgot to check the weather again?”

“Perhaps.” You answered, making your way to him. Once you reached the desk he was sitting on, you plopped down, opening the plastic bag you were carrying. You took out two honey lemon cold teas along with a couple of cheesecakes, two crepe rolls, and a package of sour candy.

“What’s this?” He asks as he grabs the tea.

You knew Satoru wasn’t going to be able to resist it, his sweet tooth always coming on top of everything.

“Take it as a peace offering.”

The sorcerer took off his jacket, handing it to you. You considered not taking it, but the shiver down your spine convinced you otherwise.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

In what seemed less than a minute, half the food is gone, the other half barely having a couple of bites. You sit in silence as you keep eating your cheesecake, occasionally sipping your tea.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” You broke the silence, the heaviness in your chest lifting as soon as you said the words.

“Did you just say sorry?” Asked Gojo, too incredulous to your annoyance. You nod, eying him. “You? You said I’m sorry? The rain must be toxic.” You rolled your eyes at him, and in return, he grabbed you by the shoulders, his face filled with fake concern. “It must already be in your brain! No, please don’t die!”

“Alright, asshole. I get it.” You pulled yourself apart, completely annoyed by his antics. You take a sip of your drink; you knew you deserved it. “I really am sorry, though. I’m sorry for leaving you at the restaurant and snapping at you back at Shoko’s.” You looked down to your hands, the feeling of shame creeping up over you. “I guess I’m sorry for being a dickhead in general to you, especially when you’ve been nice to me.”

“Why did you leave that day at the restaurant?”

“I—“ your words were caught on your throat. Should you lie? Tell the truth. Avoid the question? You looked at him, and even without being able to see his eyes, you knew what he was thinking.

Tell the truth.

You took a deep breath. “I used to be with someone, a man older than me, and he was... he was involved in a bad world. He left for one of his jobs, and one day he didn’t come back; he simply disappeared.” You stopped for a second, a knot on your throat almost breaking your voice. “I came here to find him; look for any clues that might tell me what happened to him, but I didn’t find anything, not a single word about him.” A tear took you by surprise when it fell from your left eye. You quickly wiped it, as if that could clear out the pain your heart felt. “The guy that used to be his handler was at the restaurant; we saw each other, and he—“ you scoffed. “He thought we were on a date and that he was glad I moved on. After that, I just couldn’t stay; I felt as if I was betraying his memory, betraying him, and everything was just too much for me. I felt like I was drowning the more I stayed there, so I did the best thing I could; I ran.”

Another tear made its way down your face, but you stopped caring. No matter how hard you tried, the pain of losing him would always be there.

After you finished your explanation, seconds went by without any response, something you attributed to him processing your story, but you weren’t sure. It had always surprised you how volatile Satoru was, sometimes easy to read as a first grade book, and sometimes, like now, where you might as well be reading a forgotten foreign language.

“Is that why you always put yourself at risk?” He finally spoke.

“Yes.” You answered, a tinge of shame crawling up over you. “I had a plan, you know? I was fine dying doing this. I needed it.”

“What changed?”

“You, I guess. It’s very difficult to die when someone keeps getting in the way.” You chuckled to yourself, Satoru, not finding any humor in your words. “I don’t know; one day I woke up and I realized that I didn’t want to die. I also realized I like being here.”

He looked at you, and this time his eyes carried a sadness too big to bear. “Are you still looking for him?” He asked, almost hesitantly.

“No, I know he’s dead.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I just feel it.” You shrugged. “I think I felt it the day he died; there was this painful and heavy sensation that got in my chest, and I couldn’t shake it off.”

“What would you do if you found the people that killed him?”

His question took you by surprise, as you didn’t expect it from him. You had thought about it a couple of times though, on long nights where you missed his presence and the scent was almost gone from his clothes. On nights you wished you had gone to Tokyo with him instead of staying back in Kyoto in your normal life. On nights you wished you could have his touch at least one more time.

“I’d kill them. And I’d make sure they would suffer.”

You both stayed in silence after that. A heaviness in the air had surrounded you, almost as if you had made things worse by telling him the truth. You knew that he wasn’t mad or disgusted by you, but there was a storm of thoughts going through his mind that made you wish you could read minds.

The silence was agonizing, and the longer it kept going, the more your chest would tighten. You wanted to break it any way you could, so you decided to ask a question that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looked back at you, coming back to reality. “Shoot.”

“Was that supposed to be date?”

He smiled, almost sadly, as he fixed his hair. For some reason you got the feeling he had something more to say to you, but after careful deliberation he gave you a simple answer.

“Only if you want it to be.”

It was up to you.

God, why did he do that?

Was that what you wanted? Your mind was nowhere close to thinking about a relationship with someone else, let alone having a date. There were so many things wrong with you: dead boyfriend, inability to move on, active desire to die, walls so high up they could probably compete with the Great Wall of China. You had an attitude problem, a dangerous job, and you hated people getting too close to you. You were not looking to date.

But.

If you were going to have a date with anyone, the idea of it being Satoru didn’t bother you in the least.

Maybe you even liked it.

“I think I do.” You whispered.

You smiled at him.

He smiled too.

Satoru opened his mouth to say something, but a ding of his phone interrupted him. With annoyance, he unlocked his phone, his fingers typing up a quick response before putting the device back in his pocket.

“C’mon, lets go.” He said as he put together the trash from your snack and threw it in the can.

You downed the rest of your sweet tea, throwing the bottle to the same can and getting it in the first try. Satoru turned around and gave you a thumbs up. You caught up to him with a little stride.

"Where are we going?”

“To your place so you can get changed.”

Right. You were still soaking wet from the rain. Suddenly you were hyperaware of the squeaking sound your boots made and the smaller but still present trail of water you left on your way.

“After that, we have to go to Shinjuku.”

“Alright.”

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and for the first time since you met him, you didn’t slap his arm away.

“Wait, I have another question.” You said.

“What is it?”

“What did you text me for?”

“…”

“You were going to apologize, weren’t you?”

“I was not.”

"Yes, you were! Man, I should’ve taken longer buying all this shit.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. You apologized first, so I win.”

“Oh, so it was competition now?”

Your voices filled the empty halls of the building, the bickering between you not stopping even when you were on good terms. This time there was something different though, and as laughter began erupting from both of you, you were sure there was no going back to how things were before today.

You liked that thought.

—————

Pink petals fell from the sky, swept away by the chill winds of April. Groups of people were scattered around Ueno Park, admiring the beatty of hundreds of cherry blossom trees along with hanging lanterns that decorated the main path to follow. Conversations, laughter, and music filled the air, and once you walked further into the park, the smell of food reached your nose.

Satorus hand pulled you towards one of the food stands, making both of you wait in line for some croquettes. You looked down at your joined hands, entwined fingers and all, and your heart skipped a beat.

Coming to the Cherry Blossom Festival had been an impromptu plan. Satoru had just texted you to dress up for the night in something you found comfortable enough to walk, and 20 minutes later he had knocked on your door, a blanket on his shoulder and a small basket on hand.

You liked that about him. Most of your dates had been improvised, to a certain extent. It was either him wanting to do something right in the moment or with him barely giving you time, just like when he asked you to pick you up the next day.

He brought spontaneity to your life in a way that made you happy. Satoru brought a lightness with him that you didn’t think a lot of people saw and how you wished everyone could. Maybe then they could see past the confident facade he always seemed to carry, and instead they would find the human, annoying as ever but with a heart the size of the world.

After getting your food, you went to find a place to sit that would allow you to have some privacy. Gojo guided you over a no trespassing sign, and when you expressed your concern, he simply smiled.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.”

So you followed him until you found a good spot; there he extended the blanket while you put down the basket, making sure to take everything out. Petals fell all around you, and the darkness of the night enveloped you, except for the dim light of the moon and a couple of lanterns.

Everything was perfect.

Then his hand grabbed the side of your face, making you turn to him. He had taken out his glasses so the totality of his blue eyes were exposed. God, they were beautiful. His eyes went from your eyes to your lips, a quick but intense glance. His hand traveled to the back of your head, almost as if they were asking for permission to go forward. You grabbed his arm, your finger giving him a slight caress.

That was all he needed.

He kissed you. He kissed you in a way that made you forget to stop breathing. He kissed you in a way that you felt every single sensation around you, yet the only thing you could focus on was his lips on yours. He kissed you, and you wanted more. You wanted everything.

He kissed you with desperation, like he had wanted this for a long time.

He kissed you, and you tasted his mint toothpaste along with something else you couldn’t place.

You pulled apart to face worried blue eyes, looking for a sign that perhaps you didn’t want that. He thought he might’ve overstepped his boundaries, and you were going to run away again.

You kissed him again to erase his doubts, and you knew it.

He tasted like the future.

Moans filled his bedroom. The squeaking of the bed pushing against the wall made you glad you were at his apartment instead of yours; if anyone had to deal with angry neighbors, let it be him. Satoru hadn’t even let you take off your clothes completely; instead, he had pushed down your underwear and lifted up your skirt, your underwear still hanging from one of your ankles.

Your face was facing a pillow, but you had heard him pull his pants desperately. He was big; he had warned you, but once the tip of his cock had tried to breach your entrance, your confidence in taking him had severely dwindled. He knew what he was doing though, his hands traveling in front of you, finding your clit.

A gasp left your lips, the coldness of his hand surprising you. He drew small, precise circles on it; every time he would hit a certain angle, you could feel yourself getting wetter. He knew what he was doing.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that.” He whispered in your ear.

Electricity traveled all over your body, the anticipation of him finally being inside you driving you crazy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You panted, grinding all over his fingers.

You felt his hand smacking your ass. Hard.

He pulled your hair back, your head lifting from the pillow. “Don’t act dumb with me, princess.”

His lips found the right place on your neck, and the sensation of him sucking on it made your knees weak.

“You know this is my favorite skirt.”

Smack.

His fingers never gave you a rest; the longer they kept going, the more the pressure built inside you. Your skin felt on fire; every kiss, every caress, and every smack made you feel like you could almost cum. Satoru had a way of overwhelming your senses; you sometimes wondered if it was a side effect from his six eyes.

He went faster, fingers using your own moisture to slide all over your bundle of nerves. You were so close, your moans getting louder and louder. You wanted it. No, you needed it. You need it like a thirsty man needs water.

“Please.” You begged.

“Please what, princess.”

“D-don’t stop, I’m so close.” You breathed.

So, so close, the coil inside you tightening, ready to snap.

He stopped.

“What the f—“ Your whine was cut short by his cock sliding inside of you.

He did it all at once, not giving you time to adjust. God, he was huge. With one sharp thrust, he was completely inside. You felt a little pain, but the overwhelming amount of pleasure you felt washed it away to the back of your mind when he started thrusting.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, his voice gruff as he digged his fingers on your hips.

Smack.

“Answer me, you little slut. You wanted my cock so bad?”

“Y-yes!” You were barely able to say.

Smack.

“You thought you could tease me all night.”

Smack.

“Grind your ass against me.”

Smack.

“Your fucking hand was under my pants while we were in that meeting. You thought that was fucking funny?”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Fuck! No!”

His pace was relentless and punishing. He seemed like a wild animal who had just caught his prey. His thrust was too much; you found yourself pulling away from him, but strong hands pushed you back to him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He growled. “You wanted it so bad, now you have to take it.” A hand pressed your head against the bed, and you felt his left leg hoping on the bed.

You didn’t think he could reach deeper inside you. Once again, you were proven wrong. You couldn’t last longer, not when you felt the tip of his cock almost hitting against your cervix. Your walls tightened around him, causing him to hiss in pleasure.

“God, this pussy is perfect.”

He buried himself again and again and again until tears rolled down your eyes. He knew you were close.

“You’re going to come all over this cock, princess?”

A pathetic mumble resembling a ‘yes’ escaped your lips. That gave him the signal he needed.

This time his rhythm never stopped; consistent hard, deep, and quick thrusts punished your pussy over and over again. His grip on your ass tightened too; you were sure you would have marks on your skin tomorrow morning. He kept going, faster and faster; you heard moans that left his lips, and you were sure he was also close.

“Come on, baby, come all over this cock.”

That was all you needed to come undone.

He kept going for a couple of thrusts, rhythm gone as the desperation for chasing his high became bigger and bigger. His hands grabbed the sides of your hips, using them to bounce all over his cock. It was almost as if you were his own toy.

He came no long after that.

Both lay in bed, sweat covering your forehead and back as you gasped for air. Satoru was the first to stand up, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to clean himself. You were too tired to move, so the sorcerer took it upon himself to clean you himself. The cloth felt weird against the raw skin of your pussy but the carefulness of his touch made it better.

The towel flew across the room, landing in an unknown location. After picking up the now crumpled-up sheet, he covered both of you with it, his arms bringing you to his chest. The bluest eyes in the world looked at you, admiring every inch of your face as his hand caressed it.

You took the lead this time, reaching to him for a kiss. Your lips touched his, and his lips parted slightly, allowing you to deepen the kiss, his hands burying themselves in your scalp, pushing you in as if the closeness that you had wasn’t enough.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy at night; your heart didn’t ache as you fell asleep in the warmth of his arms.

“God, why the fuck did I listen to you?” You mumbled, dangerously close to the edge of the building.

Tokyo's city lights shone below your feet, the never-ending life of its streets still buzzing no matter how dark the sky was. The altitude you were in made the wind strong enough that you felt you were going to be swept away by it. The jacket you had brought was no match for the wind, your hands clenched on the material as if that would warm you more.

“Because it’s going to be fun.” Satoru said before kissing your cheek.

“Not if I freeze to death.”

Satoru stood next to you, tall, powerful, and beautiful, with his eyes free from the typical dark glasses. Even as you were at the edge of the top of a twenty-nine-story building, he seemed so nonchalant it couldn’t help but annoy you.

How could a man so annoying be so perfect?

How were you so lucky to have found two perfect men in your lifetime?

“You were the one that wanted to try this.” He laughed, a big smile on his face.

“Whatever, let’s just do it.”

His hand extended towards you, waiting for you to grab him back. Your hand went halfway before the corner of your eye caught how tall the building actually was. You had refused to look down for this very reason, but you couldn’t do anything now; your eyes were locked in.

What the fuck were you doing?

Fear settled in the pit of your stomach along with regret, as Satoru was right; you were the one that said you wanted to see how his teleporting worked. When you had asked him what his favorite part of it was, he answered free falling from a building and teleporting back to where he had started. And now, the longer you looked, the dizzier you felt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I can’t do it. This is fucking insane.” The volume of your voice was an octave higher, but you couldn’t control it.

You began backing away until hands on your face stopped you.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He said calmly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just go back and do something else.” He waited a moment, trying to see if you would back away, but you didn’t. “If you want to do it, though, you have to trust me; trust that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

He backed away, moving close to the edge. His hand reached out to you once more.

“Do you trust me?”

Your hand finally took his, trembling legs making their way to him.

You took a deep breath. You trusted him, even when your senses told you it was a bad idea. You trusted him even when your survival instinct fought hard to push you away from the edge.

You trusted him.

Wholeheartedly.

Fully.

Unconditionally.

You both jumped.

The rational part of your mind told you it had happened in a matter of seconds; it couldn’t have been more than four, considering the height of the building and the fact that you didn’t splatter all over the floor. For the other part of your mind, though, it was endless. You fell, and you fell, and you couldn’t stop falling; the floor was close but never close enough.

The scream that left your lungs made your throat ache, your chest rumbling as the scream kept coming and coming. Your heart wasn’t in your chest anymore; you were sure it had already exploded the moment your feet left the building. You were even surprised you were still breathing; your lungs didn’t seem to get enough air in them. You had heard how people that fall from skyscrapers die from heart attacks rather than the fall itself. Now you could see that happening; the longer you thought about it, the more you felt close to death. That was until you felt pressure on your hand. Satoru’s hand never left yours, even when you tried to pull your arms to your face, trying to cover your eyes from the ever-closing floor.

One moment you were in the air, and next you were back at the edge of the building.

Your legs failed, almost making you drop to the ground, but his arms were there to keep you steady. Miraculously, you still had a living heart, as you felt it’s beating on your ears every time. Gojo’s worried face gained your attention, his eyes scanning you as his lips moved, but his words never reached your ears. Only then did you finally process what had happened.

You had jumped from a building, and you had teleported back.

You were still alive.

The fear was quickly replaced by blinding excitement. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like hot liquid fire, this time the trembling of your body caused by it. The sudden feeling that you could conquer the world overcame you; you wanted to do it again and again and again so you could feel like this forever.

A laughter came out of you, which initially had scared Satoru, but the more you laughed, the more he was sure you were ok.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You said as Satoru’s hands helped you stand up.

“I told you it was awesome.” He laughed along with you.

You jumped to his arms, pulling him in for a kiss. Your hands traveled all over his hair, pulling it as you deepened the kiss. His hands brought you up, settling on your ass once your legs wrapped around his waist. Something in him was desperate for your touch, his hands holding you in place as both of you kept exploring each other.

You pulled away from him, excited to tell him you wanted to try it again, but he interrupted you.

“Let’s do it aga—“

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped this time.

You knew he had loved you for a long time. Every moment you spent together you could see it. His love was in everything he did. It was in the way he made you laugh, in the way he would make sure you’d have enough to eat, in the way he would buy your favorite snacks on the way to your apartment, on the way he would offer to do the dishes so you could go take a shower, on the way he would caress your face, his eyes screaming the words he didn’t dare to say. His love was everywhere.

A long time ago you had never thought you would love someone the way you had loved Toji, and in a way you were right. Loving Toji had been intense, warm, and comfortable; for a man so closed up to love, he had surprisingly shown you so much of it, even if it had taken some time for it. You had loved Toji first, and you had given him your unconditional love even before he knew your feelings. Loving Satoru was different; it was quick and unexpected, but most importantly, it made you feel alive. You had gotten used to the shell of yourself you presented to the world, something you had gotten comfortable with, but Satoru had managed to break it with his bubbly, eccentric persona. He had teared the walls you had built, little by little chirping them apart, until your heart could beat for someone again. There was no comparison between Toji and Satoru; they both had your heart forever, just in different ways.

He loved you even when you felt like you didn’t deserve it.

So how could you not love him back?

“I love you too.”

The smell of pancakes filled Satoru’s apartment, along with the sound of his tinkering around the kitchen. You stretched yourself along his bed, your skin welling the coolness of the expensive sheets he had. Your body was sore; the toll of yesterday’s curse, along with your nighttime activities with Satoru, had left you drained.

You stood up, using one of his shirts to cover up. The sight that welcomed you once you reached the kitchen made you laugh. Pans and food were scattered everywhere as the sorcerer went back and forth from the pans to the freshly made orange juice he was trying to make.

“Who would’ve thought pancakes and orange juice would be your one true enemy?” You chuckled.

He turned around to face you, his hands carrying a bowl with what you assumed was pancake batter. A shy smile adorned his face, which managed to swell your heart with love.

“It’s not my fault the instructions on the recipe weren’t clear; how was I supposed to know you had to grease the pan with butter?”

“I’m pretty sure every recipe says so; even then, it’s basic knowledge.”

You walked closer to him, reaching out to him for a morning kiss, but he backed away.

"Don't; I have a raw egg all over me.”

“Now, how did you manage to do that?”

Satoru shrugged his shoulders, going back to his duty. You propped yourself on top of one of the kitchen stools, looking at the white hair sorcerer finish cooking the last of the pancakes.

“You need any help?”

“Nah, I’m almost done. I was trying to bring you breakfast to bed, but I was sabotaged.”

“Sure you were.”

After a few minutes of cooking, the last of the pancakes rested well on top of the mountain he had created. The orange juice was now in a clear crystal jar right in front of you. It would’ve been a nice scenery if it wasn’t for the mess that tainted the background. Satoru began throwing everything in the sink in a rushed manner, his hand reaching out to grab the kitchen towel.

You stood up from your seat, snatching the towel out of his hand.

“Why don’t you go take a shower while I clean this?” You offered as you thought it would be uncomfortable to eat covered in eggs, flour, and orange juice.

He shook his head. “No, I had this whole thing planned and—“

You interjected “And I’m very grateful that you did this, but I also want you to enjoy breakfast. Besides, it’s just going to be a little cleaning. I promise, as soon as you get out, I’ll stop cleaning.”

Satoru, as stubborn as he always was, was about to refuse your help, but to his dismay and your amusement, his hand landed unspilled batter that covered a part of the counter. You tried to control your laughter, which only made it more obvious, earning an eye roll from the sorcerer.

“Fine, but no more cleaning as soon as I get out of the shower.”

You lifted your right hand. “I solemnly swear.”

He left the room with quick steps, the sound of his discarding his clothes echoing from his bedroom. You put yourself in action, focusing on just cleaning the counters as it felt like a more important task than tackling the mountain of dishes; Satoru could take care of that.

You were almost done throwing all the trash that you had gathered in the can when a ringtone surprised you. Satoru’s phone had somehow ended behind the toaster, and surprisingly, it had survived being stainless with all the food flying around it. You wiped your hands quickly before grabbing it, Ijichi’s name flashing on the screen.

“Ijichi is calling you.” You yelled at him, sure that he would be able to hear you even in the shower.

“I’ll call him back later.” He yelled back.

You put it in the counter, letting the call go to voicemail. You were about to keep going with your duties when the phone rang again—another call from Ijichi. This ringing kept going for a little while until it went to voicemail once more, then the texts came, one after the other.

A sudden heaviness installed in your stomach; maybe it was something important; it had to be for him to be so insistent. You grabbed the phone in your hands, typing the four-digit password to unlock it. Another message popped up on his screen, and you clicked on it.

Ijichi

I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Gojo, but we have a situation. 9:37 am

I wouldn’t be so insistent if it wasn’t serious. 9:37 am

Please get back to me as soon as possible. 9:38 am

It’s about the Fushiguro kids. 9:38 am

Fushiguro kids.

Fushiguro.

You dropped the phone; it’s screen is cracking as it touches the ground. It couldn’t be them, could it? There was no way Satoru had anything to do with those kids. Why would he? You had never even told him Toji’s last name, none the less told him about his kid and stepkid. It couldn’t be, could it?

“What’s wrong?” His voice startled you, a concerned look on his face as you walked towards you.

You gather all the strength you have, unsure whether the words will actually come out of your mouth without getting stuck in your throat. You looked at the floor, thinking it would be the only way you would be able to talk.

“Who are the Fushiguro kids?” Your voice was barely audible, the straining in it impossible to miss. You looked back at him, hoping to find his usual smile or perhaps just a confused look on why you were acting like that.

You hoped for anything that would tell you it wasn’t the same Fushiguro family you were thinking about.

Instead, wide, panicked, blue eyes looked back at you.

“I—“

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out Satoru was thinking of an excuse—anything he could bullshit you to take away the anger that began simmering in you.

“Who the fuck are the Fushiguro kids?”

A heartbeat went by, then he answered.

“Megumi and Tsumiki.”

A scoff left your lips. Everything in the room was spinning, the beating of your heart pounding incessantly on your head. Millions of questions ran through your head, but you were unable to focus on one, each second passing you by and flooding you with emotions you weren’t sure how to process. Was this how it felt to be in his unlimited void?

“How do you know them?”

“Toji Fushiguro told me about Megumi.”

“Did you know who I was?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, not wanting to reveal himself, but there was no point in it, not anymore.

“Yes.”

“What—? How did you—?”

There it was, the same sadness you would sometimes catch behind his eyes. You had never dared to ask about it, sure that he would come to tell you with time. You had guessed it had to be with Suguru; the things you had asked about him earning almost the same sad look of losing his best friend.

But this wasn’t a sadness about losing someone. It was a sadness knowing everything would end as soon as you knew the truth.

No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him.

He couldn’t be the one.

Not Satoru.

“No.” You backed away from him, his presence digging a hole in your chest. “No, no, no, no.”

“Please, let me explain.” His hand tried to reach you but you slapped it away.

“What the fuck are you going to explain?” You screamed, the last syllables of your sentence breaking as tears pooled in your eyes. “That you fucking killed—“ you couldn’t even say the words; they tasted like vile rising from your esophagus.

“I’m sorry.”

Rage.

Pure, blinding rage.

Your senses, your body, your thoughts—everything was swarmed by rage. Your hand, almost like in automatic motion, punched the sorcerer square in the face, landing him across the room. His body left a dent in the wall; the few frames he had hanging were now broken apart, all scattered over the floor.

Before you could think about it, your hand had already reached out to your bag, taking out the knife Toji had given you. The shock from your hit had passed, and now Satoru stood up, a small cut on his cheek. You sensed him before he had even teleported, the sudden cursed energy surge behind you alerting you of his moves. You grabbed him by his throat, slamming him back down to the floor.

After spending time, you had learned to read every part of Satoru that involved his fighting techniques along with the signature of his cursed energy. You had learned everything that was to learn about the greatest sorcerer in the world, and now you were going to use it to finish him, even if you died.

You grabbed your knife, your cursed energy amplifying the one the object already owned, and you aimed it at his heart. You wanted him to feel the same pain he had caused you when he killed him, the pain he caused when he had lied to you. You were going to carve his heart out, and maybe then he could understand a fraction of what you were feeling.

His teleportation worked again, this time placing himself further away from you in the room. The tip of your knife crashed against the wood panels, leaving a dent in them.

“Please, stop.” He pleaded, the sorrow in his voice making your heartache ten times worse.

You didn’t stop; you couldn’t allow yourself to stop.

Your body smashed against his, knocking him down against the bed. Slash after slash he dodged, your knife unable to pierce his skin. In between movements, he kept pleading with you, the desperation in his voice increasing with each attempt.

Somewhere along the fight you saw an opportunity at his feet. You weren’t sure if it had been on purpose or maybe it was just a coincidence his guard wasn’t as high as you had expected, but you seized the moment, your arm managing to pin him against a wall.

The knife you held shoots up straight to his neck, the blade making contact with his skin. You were ready to slash a straight line along it, but the back of your mind told you something was wrong.

You could touch him. All along the fight, you had been able to touch him. The cut he had from your punch still bled slightly, another piece of evidence of your proximity to him. Every kick, every punch, and every tackle had made direct impact with his body.

Not once during the fight had he activated his infinity.

The blade dug on his skin, and a faint drop of blood trailed down his neck.

“Why the fuck aren’t you using your infinity? I could fucking kill you.” You screamed in his face, digging your knife deeper into his skin. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

A despairing smile showed on his face.

“Because I love you.”

Hot, salty tears cascaded along your face, the bridge of anger finally snapping as the sorrow took over everything you could feel. You couldn’t stop them; the more you tried to contain them, the bigger the hole in your chest grew.

He loved you, and you believed him.

You loved him back, and that love made you want to die. You couldn’t kill him no matter how much you pretended you wanted to; you knew you couldn’t survive losing someone that you loved again.

No matter how much you hated him at the same time.

You stood up, ready to grab your pants and bolt through the door. His hand stopped you, steading you in place.

“Please, don’t leave.” His begged, tears matching yours. “Please don’t leave me.”

Two bleeding hearts pleaded for each other that morning; one begged for forgiveness while the other begged to be put out of its misery. Both of them were entwined by the love they had for each other, along with the hurt they caused.

Yours was the only one that got what it wanted.

“Never contact me again. I’ll kill you if you do.”

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

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pitchsidestories · 4 months ago

Text

too shy (can't speak) II Caroline Graham Hansen x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1410

inspired by this request here, we hope you enjoy it !

“Finally, home.”, you sighed happily once you stepped into your apartment.

It was already late, but seeing the cozy, familiar interior of your home made you always feel at ease as it was such a contrast from the unpersonal, anonymous hotel rooms you were staying at when you were away with the team.

“I hate away games.”, Caroline grumbled who was standing right behind you.

“The team and you played so great though despite the rain and you’ve rewarded yourself with the ticket to the Champions League Final in Bilbao.”, you couldn’t stop gushing, speaking of the game against Chelsea made you fall in love with your childhood club all over again. Forgotten was the loss in the first leg at home.

“Can’t believe you would come with us for some stupid videos.”, the Norwegian shook amused her head.

“That’s my job, Caro.”, you replied.

“I know but everything was wet. Including your camera.”, she reminded you with a half-crooked smile.

“Yes, but I still managed to take a few photos and film some clips of you girls celebrating the win.”, you smiled proudly at the memory.

“At least something I guess.”, the football player shrugged.

“I should start sorting the content I made from the trip.”, you told her, you were about to start your laptop, but your girlfriend softly closed it again.

“That can wait until tomorrow.”, she declared earnestly.

“Alright.”, you gave in after a look at the clock in the living room.

“It’s late.”, Caroline stated.

“You’re right let’s go to bed.”, you decided.

“Yes, please.”, the forward nodded.

“Oh, I didn’t know it was here.”, you commented surprised when she handed you one of her old shirts hiding somewhere in your closet.

“You’re welcome.”, the Norwegian blushed, knowing full well that you loved wearing hers and she loved to watch you wearing them.

“I love it, it’s so soft.”, you hummed.

“Soft?”, Caroline raised an eyebrow at you.

“And it smells like you.”, you added, it was comforting to you especially when your girlfriend was away with her national team, it made you feel less alone.

“Oh, please.”, the forward rolled her eyes.

“What?”, you laughed lightly.

“I also smell like me.”, she noted grinning.

“That’s true, come on time to get some sleep.”, you responded warmly.

“About time.”, Caroline remarked delighted as she was laying next to you, the sheets felt nicely cool against her skin. Still smiling your girlfriend wrapped her arms around you.

“Bona nit.”, you mumbled, almost half-asleep.

“Good night.”, she gave you a soft kiss on your forehead before sleep called for her too.

Mapi came over for a visit as she so often did on your free days.

As usual, she sat in your kitchen and let her gaze wander around while you placed two cinnamon rolls on plates.

“Wait, what’s that? That wasn’t here before.“, Mapi said surprised.

You turned to her, setting a plate down in front of her: “What do you mean, Mapi?“

“This.“ She stood up, ignoring her cinnamon roll completely. She held up an ugly souvenir mug of Oslo.

“That’s not from me.“, you assured her with a laugh.

“Whose is it then?“, Mapi demanded to know with a raised eyebrow.

You shrugged: “I guess it belongs to Caro.“

“To Caro, huh?“, the defender smirked.

You could feel the blood rush into your cheeks as you admitted: “Yes, we… have been dating for a while.“

“Oh, we know.“

“You know?!“, you echoed incredulously.

“Everyone knows!“

You heaved a frustrated sigh: “I thought we were so discreet. Unlike Lucy and Ona.“

“You’re all very bad at hiding your relationships.“, Mapi laughed.

It took you a moment to process this information. You turned back to the kitchen counter and focused back on preparing iced coffee for yourself and an iced matcha latte for her.

“When was it obvious? Tell me.“

Mapi bit back another grin: “She’s less like a black cat when she’s around you.“

“She is, huh? Caro still hates me for taking photos of her at work though.“

“Yeah, you will never get her to like photos.“

“No, that’s true. But she has an album on her phone with photos of me taking pictures or filming.“, you admitted, biting your lip.

“You two are so cute!“, Mapi smiled as she took her matcha latte from you.

“I think you and Ingrid are even cuter.“

She took a sip and with a dismissive hand gesture said: “Oh please. Ingrid never left her stuff at my place.“

You paused in the middle of stirring your iced coffee and studied Mapis face: “Wait, you think she does this intentionally?“

“Let me see.“ Once again, the defender stood up and walked through your apartment, looking for any hint of Caroline.

You followed her around: “I mean she stored her sleeping shirt in my closet and I love to wear it…“

Apart from her shirt, the two of you also found a sweater, a pair of thick wool socks and several scrunchies that definitely weren’t yours. Apart from that, there was also a book in Norwegian on your nightstand. Definitely Caros as you didn’t even speak Norwegian.

“Is her toothbrush in your bathroom?“, Mapi asked as she opened the bathroom door.

You both started at the two separate sets of toothbrushes and toothpastes on the sink.

“They’re not both mine… so yes.“, you said.

Mapi crossed her arms and gave a single nod, signalling that she came to a conclusion: “I think it’s safe to say that she wants to move in.“

“Caro hasn’t asked me that though.”, you pointed out.

“And she won’t. Caro just will move her stuff here piece by piece.”, the defender realized smirking.

Deep down you knew that she was right, Caroline was the shier person in your relationship, maybe this was her way to show you that the Norwegian was ready for the next step.

“I’ll ask her, so we can all her stuff over here at once. You’d help us with moving, right? She doesn’t have many belongings at her place anyway.”, you decided.

“Of course, Ingrid and I’ll help.”, Mapi assured you.

“Thank you.”, you gave her a grateful look before you two returned to the kitchen table to the iced drinks to yap about everything else happening in and around the team.

In the evening you met Caroline for dinner at your favourite restaurant which was far off from the busy La Rambla. The candles on the table were lit and turned everything into a warm glow while you softly took the forwards hand into yours.

“Caro? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”, she nodded slightly nervously.

“Would you like to move in with me?”, you continued smiling.

“I uhmm. I guess it would make sense for us to move in together.”, your girlfriend stammered.

“I agree plus Ingrid and Mapi offered to help us.”, you added.

“They did? That’s great.”, Caroline responded calmly.

“And I’d love my home to be yours too.”, you continued, your voice turning a bit emotionally.

“Your place feels more like home than mine anyway.”, the footballer confessed, pressing a gentle kiss to your hand. Her confession was music to your ears.

“We should do it then.”, you beamed at her.

“But you’re not allowed to steal my shirts to sleep in them.”, your girlfriend warned you grinning.

“But.. okay.”, you sighed dramatically.

“I was joking.”, she quickly replied.

“Good, I promise I won’t steal all of them just the ones who are already there.”, you vowed with a sheepish smile on your lips.

“I know you’ll steal them.”, Caroline answered unconvinced by your promise.

“No, I swear I-.”, you began laughing.

“It’s okay, I’m willing to pay that price.”, the Norwegian waved it off, joining in your laughter. It was one of her favourite sounds in the world.

“Okay, when we’ve a deal.”, you said enthusiastically before kissing your girlfriend softly on her lips.

“Kjæreste? I’m home.”, Caroline announced happily a few weeks later, returning from her trip with the national team.

“Finally!”, you exclaimed delighted as you jumped into her open arms.

“This is exactly how I imagined it.”, she chuckled lightly while noticing you wore one of her old shirts.

“Didn’t you miss me?”, you pouted.

“You and your stupid camera? Yes, I did.”, Caroline admitted seriously.

“We missed you too.”, you whispered into her ear.

The forward closed her eyes for a moment, she was glad to be home with you.

#caroline graham hansen #caroline graham hansen imagine #caroline graham hansen x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #woso community #woso one shot #woso oneshot #barca femeni #norway wnt #mapi leon

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wedgiestoriescollective · 11 months ago

Text

The Senior: A Night in a Hotel Room

(The last Re-Upload)

Chase and I continued our interesting relationship after the events that took place after the choir concert. But the holidays are always a busy time, even during school. I had projects to complete and so did Chase, our daily routine of me giving Chase’s underwear a pull died down for a bit. I did get him a couple times. One time during a break at our choir practice, I yanked his American Eagle trunks up his butt when we were alone in the church's library. Oh man, that was so hot. His jeans were so tight that day, and he was wearing a maroon sweater.

He looked like the preppy guys I'd always jack off to that I wish I could wedgie, and here I was. wedgieing him. What made it even better was that he liked it, and I knew it.

Before the holiday break I got to wedgie him one more time. Chase had recently joined the speech team, and I was also on the team. I’d like to believe that he joined the team so that he would have more reasons to spend more time with me, but it probably was one of many reasons. He did a great job in the musical and participating in speech is like participating in judged theatre. So, the cast members and teammates encouraged him to join, so he did. As a member of the team, we were required to work the tournament that our school would host. But Chase was also very good at playing the trumpet so during the day of the tournament he wasn’t available because he earned a spot in the All-Region Band. So, he stopped by near the end of the day and his job for the day was to deliver flowers that we were going to put on the table with the trophies for the awards ceremony. He texted me to help him bring them in. I met him at the loading dock as he was pulling in. Now, the wedgie that I gave him as he was getting out of his front seat was a unique one. He got out and I somehow managed to just grab the waistband without digging for it. His Blue and Red stripped American Eagle boxer briefs went right up his ass. I tugged his leg holes past his dress pants waistband, and as the tug reached its height I said “sup”, and immediately snapped his white waistband to his back.

“Come on” he said, surprisingly annoyed with his wedgie.

“What did you expect? You asked me to help” I said.

“With the flowers?” he asked as he was walking to the trunk of his car while simultaneously picking at his underwear. At this point I'd wedgied him so often that he no longer would go out of sight to adjust himself anymore. He would just pick outright in front of me. I found that hot. It was unexpecting how hot I found that to be.

“Well, sorry I'll hold off on the wedgies, I got those”. I lifted a box of flowers and walked with him into the auditorium. We were alone as we were arranging the flowers, but since the stage was so big and the curtains were down, we had no way of knowing if anyone else was there. So, it wasn't the best time to try to give Chase another wedgie. We continued working quietly getting everything all set up.

I didn’t see Chase until after the holiday break. We texted each other though, he was very good at keeping the text conversation going. It wasn’t all about wedgies. We discussed books and movies that we were both currently reading or watching. Our families. He was very present to listen to my problems. At the time my high school theatre department were prepping auditions for that years play competition. This was the closet that theatre departments in high school got to competing with one another like sports teams do. The point of the competition was to take a play, any play and cut it down to no longer than 50 minutes. My theatre teacher took this play very seriously, taking a lot of time for us to read the play in class, analyze it and audition for roles. There were 16 people in the class and only 7 roles. There was a specific role in the play that I thought I'd be right for. The role required for the actor to be able to play a young prince who may or may not have had an affair with a prince from another country. The point of the role was that you never knew for sure if the characters were gay or not. I was obsessed with the idea of possibly getting the chance to play this role, I memorized scenes, I actively participated in discussions about the play in class. I made it obvious to my theater teacher that I really wanted the role. Being in the cast for this specific play in the theatre department basically marked you as someone who is a top actor in the school. I knew I was good, but there were a lot of other guys in the department that were older and talented too. But the other kid that was my age in the theatre class Micah, was in the competition play last year and he had the experience and could very well be cast in this role. It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did, but Micah was the top of our class, and he participated in theatre because it was something that he could put on his college apps. His family were very devoted Christians which isn’t a problem except for the fact that he would argue that the role I wanted wasn't a homosexual. He would argue this because he knew that if he was cast in the show that it would be in that role and he clearly felt that it was against his religion, so he was trying to find a reason to be able to play it. I’d say I was straight, but I knew that I wasn’t. But this role spoke to me, especially at that time and if I got it, maybe it was the reason that I needed to give myself permission to accept myself. I really wanted that part.

The weekend that the cast list was supposed to be posted, my speech team was away at a speech tournament six hours away from home. The prelim rounds went okay on that first day and Chase and I were placed in the same hotel room for the night with twin brothers that were specifically on the debate team. So, that night after the speech kids were done with their rounds, the debate kids were going to remain there till late. The hotel room had two beds and since the twin brother debaters would obviously sleep together in one of them, I was going to sleep with Chase in the other. And not only that, I was going to get to spend a lot of time alone with Chase in a room with a bed

When Chase and I got back to the hotel room, I went ahead and took a shower. We had a long day of traveling and both Chase and I had been in suits all day. I brought my sweats and tank that I would sleep in the bathroom with me and showered. When I got out of the bathroom with my sleep clothes on there was Chase, standing at the closet in only his boxers. He was hanging up his suit, after taking everything off. Though I've wedgied Chase a lot, I had never seen him without his shirt, and staring at him from behind I immediately noticed the smoothness of his shoulders. Chase wasn't muscular in the sense that he looked like a Calvin Klein model, but he was close. His butt in those boxers were very nice as well. The boxers were navy blue, obviously American Eagle because there were multiple Eagle logos al over them. He turned around,

“Hey, my turn’ he said.

I must have not been hiding my looks of intense lustful admiration because his lips slowly curved to a smirk, and he flexed his chest and hell. He didn’t have a six pack, but his chest was hot, nonetheless. He didn’t have a lot of hair, but there was some that formed a line from the bottom of his belly button to the top the waistband of his boxers. This was the first time that my thoughts went to the possible size of his dick under those boxers. I can't remember for sure, but I was probably hard. Chase started to walk across the room.

“I know what you're thinking, don't do it” he said as he walked by me to go into the bathroom. I quickly turned around after he walked by me. He stopped walking and turned his head slightly.

"You can’t help it can you?” he said.

“I guess not” I replied as my hands slowly gripped his boxers.

I tug slowly. This was my first time giving a wedgie with the other guy not wearing pants. The more I tug the more I see Chase's ass. It was firm and the more his boxers went up his butt, the harder my dick got. I drop his boxers and gently tap both of his checks with my hands.

“Enjoy your shower" I said.

“Thanks” he said walking into the bathroom.

He stayed in there for about ten minutes. When he came out of the bathroom, he had pajama bottoms with multiple XBOX logos on it. He was still wearing the same boxers that I had just wedgied, but the only way I could tell was that he was sagging his pajama bottoms slightly. But I only had a moment to observe that because he ran at me and jumped on me on the bed.

It happened very fast. I can’t remember the specifics. But we were basically wrestling, He was the senior and he was obviously a lot stronger than me, but I gave it my all wrestling wise. He pinned me in headlocks and to the ground. He was a lot stronger. But Chase and I had different end goals. His was to pin me to the ground, mine was to pull his boxers up his butt again. I got his boxers a couple of times in the struggle, but not enough to really count the wedgies I gave him legit. But there was one moment when I ended up on the top of his back. My ass was sitting on his head, and I had to have been tea-bagging Chase as I gripped his boxers in both of my hands. I was also fully hard by that point, and there was no way that Chase didn’t know because my bulge was bulging into his shoulders. But his boxers were in my hand, and I started pulling. Pulling with all the strength possible. Chase was moaning but from pleasure or pain I couldn't tell. I successfully pull one mare strong pull and I heard a slight ripping sound. I snap his boxer’s waistband onto Chase’s back, and I roll off him.

“Fuck, man that was the best wedgie yet” Chase said standing up with his hands in his,

butt fixing his boxers. I stayed laying on the bed breathing heavily.

“Damn man, you sound like we just fucked” he laughed.

I laughed that off, at at that moment a feeling of intense shame came over me. I hadn’t cum but I was close. What did those feelings mean? Why do wedgies turn me on? How can I keep this up? It was clear after today that I had extreme lust towards Chase. After seeing his body, smacking his ass, and wedgieing him like I just had.

“Everything alright man?” Chase asked as he sat down at the front of the bed. But before I could say anything there was a knock on the door.

I went and answered the door, and it was Lexi. She was one of the strongest actresses in the theatre department. A shoo in for the lead role in the competition play. She was texted the cast list for the competition play and wanted me to see it. I didn’t get the part… or any part in the play. Micah got the part. Lexi said that she wanted me to know because she didn’t want me to have to wait until Monday to see the cast list myself, but I think she wanted to tell me because she was (and still is) a world class bitch. I walked back into the room and crushed, I just started crying, I had never been more disappointed. I didn’t get the role that spoke to me and my true sexuality, and here I was crying in front of the only guy that I had ever had strong feelings for. Chase was very nice. He asked me what was wrong, and when I told him he didn't try to console me. He was just quiet as I laid down on the bed,

I must have cried myself to sleep because one moment the lights were on, and the next they were off and there was an arm around my shoulder. It was Chase's. I looked over at the other bed and saw that it was still empty. The twins weren’t back yet. I twisted my body around and there was Chase, with his eyes wide open staring at me. He said nothing and we continued just looking at one another. I wanted to kiss him, and I was positive that he wanted to kiss me. But we didn’t kiss. But what I did feel was a hand gently placing itself around my groin. Chase's hand was over my sweatpants, and he slowly put his hand into my sweats and then, into my boxer briefs. Upon impulse I reached in a removed his hand from my pants. But still staring at him. I let go of his hand. I then proceeded to stick my own, hand in my pants. I gently surrounded my dick with my fingers, and then slowly started lifting. and lowering my dick. I did this while continuing to stare at Chase. Chase decided after a couple moments that he would follow suit. He lifted the covers and stuck his hand in his boxers. We continued touching ourselves while still looking at one another. This was a new experience for me, jerking off with someone else in the room. I found it to be a very exhilarating experience. Someone else looking at me and jerking off too. I couldn't see his dick, and he couldn't see mine. That seemed to make it even hotter. We tried to keep rhythm with each other. I don’t know how long we did this, but I do remember that we didn’t climax at the same time. Chase came first, and I followed about ten seconds after. There were no words spoken during or after except for our moans. After we were done, we put the covers back on and just laid back down in bed together. I started crying again, but it was weird. There was so much sadness in my tears, but also a little comfort in the fact that in that singular moment that I was not alone. I cried gently but was surprised to feel Chase's arms wrap around my body, holding me tightly. We laid there spooned into each other. He was there holding me tightly not letting me go as slowly drifted off to sleep.

I think back to this night often. We were both in the closet at the time, and we were both not ready to admit to ourselves that we had these strong feelings. We just had this strong night together. if we were able to let ourselves be open to each other that night, maybe we would have gone farther in our sexual explorations. I did wish I kissed him that night. I wished that I let him touch me, blow me. I wish I could have seen his whole naked body, and that he could see mine. That night was more than just a wedgie fetish. But regardless, I am still grateful to what we did that night because it was a part of my story, and it was truly one of those moments when I realized that I could be attractive, that I could be desired, and that I won't always have to be alone.

#gay wedgie #wedgie nerd #gay #gay men

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verstawppen · 6 months ago

Text

❣ me gustas tu

verstawppen writes: Hello guys! I'm Ryu and this is my first time ever writing smth for F1. It is a fandom I've only recently become a part of but the drama, the memes, the drivers and the sport itself is so exciting! I appreciate any constructive criticism and suggestions yall have to offer and I'm more than happy to interact with my readers so feel free to dm :) And it was glorious to see Charles take P1 in his home race yesterday (yes im a ferrari girl at heart) so this one's for him. alr enough chatter onto the story- summary: Going into the Monaco GP, you could not be more in love with your brother's teammate, Charles Leclerc and you also couldn't be more wrong about your feelings being one-sided. warnings: fem!reader, sainz!reader, carlossainzsister!reader, shy!reader, fluff, confessions, making out, unrequited love, friends to lovers, songfic. ─━──━─━─━─━─━────༺ 🏎 ༻────━─━─━─━━─━─━─━─━─━

The media liked to say that you had the life most girls would kill for. You were Carlos Sainz’s sister after all, along with being his assistant manager. Hopping from continent to continent, hanging out in the paddock by day and in the club by night, celebrating race wins. But the media, as always, knew only a portion of the truth. Though you loved your job, you were good at it and helping your brother out with his hectic schedule was always a pleasure, it was excruciating to be so close to Ferrari’s golden boy, yet so far away.

You had feelings for Charles Leclerc. And yes, you knew how it sounded and that’s why you’d never said it out loud. until….

Me gusta los aviones, me gustas tú (I like airplanes, I like you) Me gusta viajar, me gustas tú (I like to travel, I like you)

Charles was soundly asleep on the aeroplane seat, looking comfortable in his dreamland despite the odd position his body had curled up into. His curled locks of hair fell onto his face and brushed against his closed eyelids every once in a while, making him scrunch up his face in annoyance. You wanted to brush his hair out of his eyes, you wanted to be in place of the pillow he had clutched to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. But you remained in your place and averted your eyes to the book in your lap.

The pilot announced you were going to land in Monaco soon. You looked out of the window to see the sun beginning to set on the city of splendour, hues of orange, yellow and pink capturing the city sky. You heard Charles shuffling in his seat, probably awoken from the announcement. He stretched out his arms and rubbed his eyes, you watched him from the corner of your eyes. He slowly turned to see the view from the window. A warm smile crept up his lips and a sparkle rose into his mesmerising emerald eyes. He looked pure and happy with the look of a 5-year-old visiting Disney land for the first time. He was home. You smiled and went back to your book.

Me gusta la mañana, me gustas tú (I like the morning, I like you) Me gusta el viento, me gustas tú (I like the wind, I like you)

The weather was delightfully sunny and breezy when you awoke in your hotel room in Monaco. Though most people thought you were a night owl, you actually enjoyed mornings, relishing in the golden lull of sun and solitude. You made your way to the Ferrari garage in the paddock earlier than usual for your morning meetings, wearing a yellow sundress that made you look like the embodiment of sunlight and honey. Your charming smile completed your look and it only widened when you saw Charles was there too. He was sipping on a cup of coffee, and scrolling on his phone. He looked up the moment you entered, he sat frozen in place, eyes unblinking for a minute. If you were delusional, you would have thought he was admiring you, but you knew better. Both of you greeted each other at the same time, “Good morning” “Good morning” A light pink blush rose up on both of your cheeks at the synchronisation. Flustered, you shot him a quick smile before moving to get yourself a cup of coffee. You leaned against the counter atop which the espresso machine sat, facing Charles. Other Ferrari staff had started coming in so Charles and you were no longer alone.

A strong gust of wind came in through the nearby open door and blew your hair right into your face as you were conversing with one of your colleagues and friends.

The sound of your playful laughter floated to Charles’ ears and before he knew it, he was looking at you from across the room, barely paying attention to his trainer. How could he, when you looked so ethereal, the wind styling your hair in a wildly attractive manner. “Charles, are you listening?” “Sorry yes-” He snapped his head back to the man in front of him and shook his head to clear his thoughts of you.

The sound of your laughter brought warmth to his heart, and he made a mental note to joke around you more.

Me gusta soñar, me gustas tú (I like to dream, I like you) Me gusta la mar, me gustas tú (I like the sea, I like you)

Charles’s win in Monaco was phenomenal, it was his absolute dream come true. Though you were a little sad for your brother, who’d suffered a puncture and hadn’t been able to perform at his level best, you were overjoyed for Charles. When he crossed the checkered flag as the winner of the Monaco Grand Prix, marking the first home win for the Monegasque, the Ferrari garage launched into an uproar, screams of joy and chants of Charles’ name being heard all around. You felt a lone tear of happiness make its way down your face as you watched the excited crowd. You were smiling like an idiot as you heard Charles thanking the entire team through the team radio, feeling warmth filling your chest accompanied by a sense of pride. You spotted Carlos returning to the Ferrari garage and you ran to him, giving him a loving hug.

“You did so well, Carlos! P3 hermano, you drove so well!” Your brother smiled at you. “You should save the praise for the winner of the race, hermana” You immediately blushed at the mention of Charles and it did not go unnoticed by your elder brother. You kept looking over his shoulder to see if Charles had come back yet and he smirked, “Go to him, he’s on his way.” You shifted your gaze back to your brother and shook your head, ”No, Carlos I want to stay with you here. You must be tired after that intense race, no? should I get you something?” Carlos smiled and shook his head, heading towards his driver's room, “Just go to him hermana, maybe your feelings aren’t as one-sided as you think”. Your eyes widened, you’d forgotten that Carlos was also one of Charles’s best mates and there was no way your protective brother Carlos would have asked you to go to him unless they’d had a conversation about you before. You slowly nodded your head and walked out of the Ferrari garage in a euphoric daze. Did Charles really like you back?

And that’s when you spotted him a little further away, celebrating his win near his car, his admirers and supporters in the paddock encircling him. Your gaze met his across the distance and he took off his helmet, revealing his tousled hair. He looked exhausted but glory shone bright on his face. You found your legs carrying you towards him, the lyrics of your favourite song being the only words you could use to describe the turmoil in your heart.

¿Qué voy a hacer?, je ne sais pas (What am I going to do? I don't know) ¿Qué voy a hacer?, je ne sais plus (What am I going to do? I do not know anymore) ¿Qué voy a hacer?, je suis perdu (What am I going to do? I am lost)¿Qué horas son, mi corazón? (What time is it, my heart?)

Before you knew it, you were standing right in front of the man you were in love with, your shining eyes looking into his sparkling green ones. The crowd around him dispersed, setting the stage for what was about to happen next. You immediately went in for a hug, you didn’t care if he was all sweaty from the race, you just needed him to know how proud you felt and how much you cared. His hands wrapped around your waist, and it felt so right.

His head settled in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your light perfume and the scent bedazzled his senses. “I’m so so proud of you, Charles” you whispered to him. The two of you were in your own little bubble, oblivious to the ongoings of the paddock and you were grateful that the rest of the world allowed you two that moment. You felt him smile into your neck. “I couldn’t have done it without your support, cherie” Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname and you gently pulled away from the embrace, his arms still holding you in close proximity. You didn’t know how long you stood there, just staring into each other’s eyes, and irises exchanging all the words you had left unsaid. Your hands cupped his cheeks and his entire world zeroed in on you in that moment. “Charles, kiss me now” you whispered. You needed to know. He did not need any further encouragement, the moment those words left your lips, his were on yours. And God was it amazing. The way his soft, slightly chapped lips met your own halfway blew your mind and your hands moved to his damp hair, gripping them slightly to ground yourself. This feels so right, was all the two of you could think. His arms around your waist tightened impossibly closer and he relished the feeling of your lips against his, the feeling of your electrifying presence near his before pulling away and opening his eyes to you. The smiles that grew on your face were instantaneous. The kiss was everything you had wanted, needed from Charles and it was confirmation enough that he liked you as much you liked him. “So, what are your plans tonight, pretty boy?” Now it was his turn to blush at the nickname. “Probably partying at Jimmy’z, it still hasn’t set in you know” “I know”, you said while admiring just how perfect he looked like this. Winning looks so good on him, you thought to yourself. You felt one of his hands leave your waist and come up to your ear before tucking away a stray strand of hair. “But tomorrow, cherie, we celebrate together, just the two of us. I want to show you around Monaco, properly. Maybe take you out to the sea” You laughed with delight before pecking his lips, the sound of your melodious laugh making his heart bloom. “I can’t wait, amour” ─━──━─━─━─━─━────༺ 🏎 ༻────━─━─━─━━─━─━─━─━─━

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formulapierre · 1 year ago

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Timezone | Charles Leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x y/n!reader

prompt: based off my favourite song at the moment; Timezone by Maneskin. Where Charles is fed up with being so far away from you at a time where both of your lives are changing, not that he knows that.

warnings: 18+ as brief mentions of sex

word count: 4.6k

Song:

“You're wearing my old clothes, but you, you wear it better And every time I see your face, the moon should be jealous”

“Bonsoir Amour,” Charles says as his face pops up on your screen. “You look tired,” He quickly adds, as you make yourself comfortable on the bed you usually share.

“I am, work was a nightmare…all I want is to go to sleep and your shirts just don’t cut it anymore darling,” You joke as you show him the shirt you were wearing, it was one of his favourite linen button-ups; the one he likes to wear when you go driving down the Monegasque coastline together.

You had sprayed it with the few drops of his cologne that were left in the bottle…but that was starting to fade, seeing how long he’d been gone. Nothing was the same as when you fell asleep in his arms; his warm chest pressing against your back, arm around your waist as he told you how much he loved you. “Stay with me?” You ask, turning off the bedside lamp as you prop your phone on the side table.

“Of course, I’ve got tons of emails to go through so I will probably still be here when you wake up,” He jokes as he sets his phone against the wall, atop the makeshift desk in his foreign hotel room. He continued to talk as you rested your head on the pillow below, wanting to listen to how Pierre ended up locking himself inside his hotel room; knowing that this was about as good as time-together got at the moment but also knowing that you had to be up early for work tomorrow.

The latter finally proved to be more important.

“And I keep talking to the wall 'til he's a friend of mine”

Charles continued to talk for an hour until he broke eye-contact with the laptop in front of him to find the peaceful image of you fast asleep. He starts to question how worth it all is. Is his job, His dream worth more than you? Shouldn’t he be home with you, letting you rant about your day as he made dinner? But then He supposes once he met you, his dreams changed.

Growing up, Charles’ dreams were about one thing. Becoming world champion. But since meeting you he can't help dreaming of you, and everything you could become together. He would imagine the chateau you would have in the south of France in which you would raise your children (He knew you wanted children as you had expressed it before when He asked…but only at a time that suited you both, you didn’t want to be raising them yourself, and Charles didn’t want that either. Or at least…that was the plan)

“I would sacrifice it all for you…” He said quietly as he admired your sleeping figure. “Every last bit, every race, every win…if it meant I didn’t have to leave you like this amour, I don’t know how much longer I can be apart from you” He continues, ignoring the sole tear threatening to roll down his face. His mood quickly changed when He imagined your response. How you would tell him ‘don’t worry about me’ and how ‘I’ll still be here when you get back’

But what you wouldn’t tell him was that you selfishly wished for nothing more, if only you had fallen for the guy next door. Why did he have to have such lofty dreams and ambitions…but also the ability to make them come true? You wished nothing but the world for him, and his happiness was yours; so why when you spoke to him over the phone did he always seem so…sad?

“I call you every hour just to tell you that I'm losing my mind”

“If not for you-” You sang as you swept the apartment, your daily Saturday routine nearly over and you were excited as Qualifying was only a few hours away. The music quieted by the incoming call you were receiving. You quickly hurried to the kitchen where your phone lay on charge next to the speaker. You disconnected both before answering.

“Charles? Is everything ok?” You ask, you knew with only a few hours until Quali he needed pure focus so this was unexpected.

“N-No…I-” He tries to say but you shush him as you move over onto the couch.

“Turn on your camera,” You say, revealing a tear-stained Charles. Your heart shattering into a million pieces to see him like this. “Hey, look at me…you are ok, take some deep breaths,” You say and he quickly does as he’s told, collapsing down onto the couch in his drivers room.

“I can’t do this anymore,” He says quietly, probably not wanting to alert anyone else in the hospitality to the situation.

“What can’t you do?” You ask confused.

“This…you and me-. The pressure I-” He starts to say before he realises what he said. “N-Not like that Amour. This distance between us. I haven’t seen you in nearly two months, I’m not myself without you, I’m losing my mind not being able to kiss you or hold you. I don’t know how much longer I can do this? Questions are being raised within the team, the media are saying I’m off my game.” He questions, his voice wavering at the end.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about. You are at the top of your game, Ferrari are performing as well as they have ever been and there are only two more races before you get to come back home…you’ll see me in just over two weeks darling. I know it’s hard, I feel it too. I walk around our apartment, remembering everything that's happened here and then I go to sleep alone, just waiting to see you again… But they are the sacrifices we have to make.” You tell him honestly as he wipes his face. He moved to the bathroom connected and you hear the tap running, assuming he is splashing his face with water. He returns to you much more calm and collected than before.

“T-Thank you Amour, I need to go but I will call you later,” He promises with a soft smile spread across his face.

“Good luck Darling,” You say before blowing him a kiss. You sit down to watch qualifying with baited breath, unaware of the toll your relationship was taking on your love.

“Now I know you're sleeping Where I'm supposed to be in”

*CALL NOT RECEIVED*

“Merde,” Charles swore as he threw his phone on the bed, he had finally gotten back to the hotel; only eight hours after the chequered flag. After celebrations, after media duties, after strategy debriefings, after engineering debriefings, after the awful traffic leaving the track, after everything…then, came you. But He had forgotten the time difference. You no doubt would have stayed up late to watch the race live, quickly sending him a congratulations text before falling asleep.

This was the part Charles hated the most, the loneliness. The empty hotel room, devoid of any emotion; leaving him with only his own thoughts for company. He longed for life to be different, for the days when he wasn’t under the spotlight. As much as Formula 1 was a team sport, he was the driver, so everything was done for him. He never had a chance to make many connections within the team.

Pierre was the exception, he was the childhood friend in the corner, always cheering him on. But even He had seen recently the shift in Charles’ mood. The change in how he interacted with others; shorter answers with the media, less patience for fans, sometimes borderline reckless driving on track. Pierre knew his reasons and how much Charles was struggling…that's why Pierre was the way He was. No long-term girlfriends, strenuous relationships with friends and his ‘fear’ of commitment. He saw what it was doing to his best-friend and didn’t like where it was headed.

“Wish I could've stayed”

“Have you got everything?” You ask your boyfriend as he wheels his three massive silver suitcases into the hallway.

“I think so, are you sure you’re alright to stay here by yourself? I could always ask Maman…you know she wouldn't say ‘no’ to staying a few weeks,” He offers again.

“Darling, I promise you, I will be fine. Eight weeks is only four-two week breaks. And I know I can do two weeks.” I assure him, taking his face in my hands as I do, slowly rubbing my thumb over his cheek. “I’ll still be here when you get back, and then you have a few weeks off where it can be just the two of us. We can do everything and Nothing if you want.” I remind him before pressing a kiss to his soft lips.

“I love you Ma Belle,” He mutters as he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. You spend a few minutes just taking in each other, knowing this would be the last time you would be in the same room as him for a few months.

“Je t’aime Chérie,” You reply, both of you knowing that was the extent of your French vocabulary, somehow making it even sweeter.

“Only thing that keeps us apart Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog”

“This won’t take long, I promise,” Charles is told as he sits down at the table, around which sits his team. His lead Engineer, His PR officer, His Trainer and His Team principal. “We just wanted to make sure everyone is on the same page with what's going on over the coming weeks,”

“Ok, has anything changed?” He asks, looking over the calendar on his Ipad.

“After your performance in the last few races we think it would be beneficial to get in some extra SIM work once we return from China…a week maybe two will be more than en-” His Engineer says tentatively.

“No, absolutely not,” Charles says adamantly, his fists balling as the device thuds on the table. “I haven’t been home in over 6 weeks…I-I’m not waiting another month-” He says getting up. “I’m not doing this now…we focus on these two races,” He tells them before walking out the same door he had walked through not 10 minutes before.

“Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone”

CURRENT TIME — 17:36

HOME TIME —--- 02:36

The icon on his home screen taunted him as he watched the minutes tick by, the drive from the track to his hotel seeming even longer than usual. His mind goes back to that meeting, how dare they ask him to go to Maranello for another two weeks, he was there only a few days before he flew out for the first of the 6 races he was away for.

Did they understand that you were waiting on him? Did they care? Charles was beginning to think they didn't. If they did they would have at least offered him a week or two at home first. He sighed in frustration as thoughts swirled in his head, the usual thoughts when He was left alone…

“So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning”

“I want to come home Maman, I want to see her. It is unbearable to be without her any longer,” Charles said to his mother as they spoke, ironically mirroring your words from when you spoke to her a few days ago…’It’s unbearable to see him like this’.

“I know it is Cherie, it's the same feeling I felt when you and your Papa were travelling the world for your karting…you have wanted this for so long, I can see how much your racing means to you. But as your Mother I just want you to be happy, so if she makes you happier than you could ever be, then go for it. You’ve won races, you’ve won championships but you have to ask yourself if this particular one is worth all the pain I can see you’re in?” She asked as she sat on her balcony in Monaco. Unbeknownst to him however, that the exact person he was talking about, was sitting on his Mothers couch, listening to the conversation and reading a book.

“-I know, I know…she said the same thing. It would be slightly more bearable if the time-difference wasn’t so big. I called her 3 times last week and only then did I realise she would be fast asleep,” He complained. Your heart had sunk when you got back into bed and realised you had three missed calls from him; you had to very quickly run to the bathroom out of fear of vomiting on the floor, so didn’t even think about grabbing your phone and messaging him back.

“Only a few more weeks and you will be back in her arms, I promise,” She says before ending the call. The clouds covering the sun forced her inside as the wind picked up. “How are you feeling?” She asks, pressing her ice cold hand to your forehead.

“Honestly?” You ask and she nods. “Like shit, I can't get rid of this nausea, and every time it feels like it’ll pass, it comes straight back,” You admit as you take a sip of the steaming tea she had made you only minutes before you were interrupted.

“The first few months are like that. It was the same with Lorenzo and Arthur…don’t tell Charles though but he was a dream, no sickness, no nothing and labour was a breeze,” She says causing you to laugh, Mr Charles ‘Perfect’ Leclerc struck again.

“I'm coming home”

*CONFIRM FLIGHT MA1611 TO NICE*

[CONFIRM] [CHECK BOOKING]

Charles pressed the confirm button instantly, without hesitation. Without thought of the consequences of what would happen with his team; He would be at least a week early. He didn’t care about this last race, He didn’t care how close his rival was to him in terms of points. He didn’t care about anything…except getting home to you. He asked his Maman to collect him from the airport and drop him at home. He also swore her to secrecy but that seemed like the least important part.

“I wouldn’t have the balls…” Pierre said from across the table.

“You know how I feel about it, and Her,” He simply replied. But it was true, Pierre did know as they had talked about it for hours. Charles felt like Pierre was the only one who truly understood what it took and continued to take.

“I didn’t mean it like that…just make sure I’m the best man at the wedding alright?” He joked, neither of you had really discussed getting married. It just didn’t seem important at the time, but now, Pierre’s comment had planted a seed.

“Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone” “Tomorrow I got another plane,”

“How are you feeling about this last race?” His trainer asked as they walked through the international airport, only minutes away from boarding the flight to the final race.

“I’m feeling good, -I’m just going to go to the bathroom, you guys board without me…I’ll only be a few minutes,” Charles smoothly lied; He knew that the bathroom had two entrances in front of two different sides of the terminal.

“I'm not gonna take it”

He checked his watch and saw that his other flight was about to depart so He started to run. He shouted ‘sorry’ as he brushed past someone, others choosing to move out the way as He ran through the airport. He looked at the gate numbers as he ran. 35…..34…..33…..32…..31…..30. He sighed as he finally reached it. The last few people started to board as he took a minute to compose himself before approaching. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself as the Stewardess checked his boarding pass.

“Welcome onboard Mr. Leclerc,” She said politely to him before showing him behind the curtain to his left. He relaxed as He settled into his seat. Only 12 more hours until He would be with you.

“Instead, I'm gonna fly straight to you, I paid double for the tickets” “And I don't give a shit about the contracts that I signed”

*MISSED CALL*

*SHOW [128] OTHER MISSED CALLS*

He didn’t even manage to put his seatbelt on before the calls started flooding in, he quickly silenced his phone and tucked it into the bottom of his bag. He really hoped he was making the right decision.

Charles was so exhausted from the past two months that He slept almost the whole way home, something very unusual for him. He was finally woken by the Stewardess telling him they were about to start their descent into Nice. At that news He woke up almost instantly, eager to be reunited with his Maman and see a familial face.

He made sure he was one of the first off the plane and was glad that his celebrity afforded him to be escorted through the airport and straight into arrivals. He didn’t have any bags to collect as they would be in the Middle East by now, probably with a group of very confused Ferrari employees. Pascale spotted her son almost immediately as He walked into the Arrivals hall, arms wrapping around him and pulling him into her.

“I’m proud of you, Cherie,” She says, kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s get you home,” His Maman adds as they start to walk out of the airport, a place Charles wished to not see for a very long time.

“And they can say whatever,”

“I’ll just drop you here,” Pascale says as she arrives outside your apartment building.

“Thank you Maman, for everything,” Charles says as he kisses her on the cheek before getting out of the car. He rifles through his bag looking for his swipe pass that would allow him access to the building. As annoying as it was having to have the card, you couldn’t get into the building or up the elevators without it. He swung his bag over his shoulder before shutting the door. Charles went onto autopilot as he swiped into the building, swiped to open the elevator, pressed the button for the top floor, and walked towards your door. It was only until he reached your door that the gravity of the situation dawned on him. He had just deserted his team and travelled 12 hours across the globe to see you.

He raised his hand to knock. Should he knock? Technically he lived here too…He twisted the handle and walked into your shared apartment. He could see you out on the balcony, eyes shut and enjoying the fresh-air. Charles tried to be as quiet as He could, He took his shoes off and dumped his bag before slowly walking towards you.

The double doors were wide open as Charles approached and found you sleeping. He sunk down onto his knees next to the lounger you lay in and took your hand in his.

“Amour,” He whispered as He brought the back of your hand up to his lips and pressed a firm kiss to it. You muttered something under your breath. “Mon Ange,” He cooed as he tried to rouse you from your sleep.

“Mmh, want to sleep,” You groan as you try to swat his hand away.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me Amour,” He said, only now His voice registering in your head.

“Charlie?” You asked in utter disbelief as your eyes widened and you sat bolt upright. “You! You’re here!”

“I am, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” He assures you as you scramble to get up, tugging your shirt over your growing stomach before throwing your arms around him.

“Why- what-. Charles?” You ask, hoping he’d know what you were asking him.

“They don’t know I’m here. I’m tired and so fucking fed up of having to be away from you,” He admits and you sigh pulling him into your chest.

“I know you are Darling,” You tell him as you stroke the top of his head and fiddle with the tips of his hair. You fall into a comfortable silence as you just hold each other.

“I’m-,” You say.

“Ma-,” He says at the same time. “Sorry Amour, you go first,” Charles says with a smile on his face.

“I-I’m pregnant,” You admit taking his hand and placing it on your stomach.

“You’re what?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Pregnant, We’re having a baby Charles,” You tell him again with a wide smile on your face as you place your other hand on his cheek and rub it softly.

“We’re going to have a baby” He repeats in disbelief and I just nod. “How far along are you?” He asks, lifting your shirt up to see your slightly swollen stomach.

“The doctors think about three-and-a-half to four months. So I was pregnant before you left but with everything going on, I guess I just forgot,” You say but it seems like he’s daydreaming.

“Marry me,”

“What Ch-,”

“That's what I was going to say before. Marry me Amour, I haven’t bought a ring yet but I’m down on my knees so I’m halfway there. I don’t know what to tell you that you don’t know already. You are my reason; you are why I get up in the morning, why I try so hard at work, why I’m here right now. It’s all for you, and now our growing family…so marry me” He says, putting both hands on your stomach.

“You already know my answer Darling, you are my everything Charles,” You tell him, pulling him off of his knees and into your arms.

“I need you to say it,” He pleads.

“we'll be making love,” “ I'm fucking you tonight”

“Yes, I will marry you Mr Leclerc,” You say with a laugh as he picks you up and spins you around. “Charles, be careful. Morning sickness is not a joke,” You warn him and upon realisation he stops spinning you but picks you up, ironically, bridal style and carries you to your bedroom. “What are you-,”

“I want to fuck my fiancée, is that alright with her?” He asks teasingly as He places you down onto your bed gently.

“Let me check…,” You say, pretending to think. “She says she’s been waiting months for you to say that,” You say pulling him on top of you and letting yourself savour every moment of it.

“So fuck what I’m dreaming, this fame has no meaning,”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to Abu Dhabi and to the final race of the season!” The commentator announces as the camera pans down the pitlane. “It all comes down to today. With only 5 points in it, who will be crowned World Champion?” He asks. “Will it be double world champion Max Verstappen with RedBull? Or will it be reigning three-time world champion Charles Leclerc with Ferrari? Well, todays the day. Stay tuned for the duel in the desert!” He announces over the TV screen in Ferrari’s hospitality suite. You were sitting next to Charles' family. Both of his brothers and their girlfriends, His mum and some of his extended family that were able to make it.

“In a shock week for Ferrari, well…more like Charles Leclerc; the grid will say goodbye to one of its most talented today. After arriving here two days later than scheduled, Charles posted onto his social media and announced in the press conference that He is retiring and Yas Marina would be his last race. He is joined this weekend by his whole family as we celebrate a very accomplished driver; and most especially He is joined by long-term girlfriend and as of a few days ago; Fiancée, Y/N who is a very well-known face within the paddock. We also send the Leclerc family our biggest congratulations at the news of their impending arrival,” The commentator said as He walked the grid in preparation for today's race. You all started to make your way into the garage, Arthur offering to carry your bag as you were taken aside and onto the track. Ferrari wanted to take a few photos with the team and Charles refused to take them unless you were there.

“Thank you for being here Amour,” He said, taking you by the hand and escorting you over to where his car lined up on pole position.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world Darling,” You say, pressing a kiss to the side of his face. Charles’ PR manager took the photos they wanted before He was ushered off for the national anthem. Whilst you stood next to His car the same commentator from earlier approached you.

“I am joined now by Y/N Y/L/N, How are you?” He asks, pointing the microphone at you.

“I’m feeling amazing Martin. Nervous for today but Excited for the party that will no doubt ensue tonight,” You answer.

“So your money is on Charles for the win?” He asks and you scoff.

“I think it has to be, doesn't it?” You joke causing him to laugh.

“Probably wouldn’t be a great start to your marriage if you didn’t,”

“Your words not mine Martin,” You playfully remind him.

“Well congratulations to you and Charles on your recent engagement-” He says before he is spoken to via his earpiece. “Jenson would like me to remind you not to forget his invitation,” Martin Brundle explains.

“Jenson I promise you will be the first to get an invite, and I will hand deliver it myself If I have to,” I promised him whilst looking directly at the camera.

“-and finally before I have to head off. Another congratulations to you and Charles, upon the announcement of your baby.” He says causing you to blush at all the attention you were receiving.

“Thank you Martin, it really means a lot,” You reply with a smile.

“If you are open to name suggestions…might I suggest Martin? It’s a great name!” He asks in true Martin Brundle style.

“I will have to consult with my husband-to-be, but I’m sure we’ll work something out. You assure him before the National Anthem starts to play.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Charles_Leclerc

Liked by Pierre_Gasly and 1,406,356 others

Charles_Leclerc Nothing in my life compares to today.

Juliette Elise Leclerc and Leo MartÍn Leclerc; I cannot even begin to tell you how much my heart fills with joy every time I see you; your Maman and I are so unbelievably happy to introduce you to the world.

Y/N and I thank everyone for their kind words and messages over the past few days; we will however be taking some time away from the media whilst we adjust to our new lives as parents to our wonderful twins.

The birth of our children marks the start of a new chapter in both of our lives, one we have both been looking forward to for months. Before I take my leave I would like to dispel any rumours of my return to racing; I have no plan to return to racing in the foreseeable future as I plan to spend my time with my soon to be wife learning what it means to be a father.

Lastly, I just want to say how proud I am of Y/N, And how thankful I am to her for bringing our beautiful little girl and boy into the world.

Charles x

I hope you enjoyed reading, this is my first F1 oneshot I've published on tumblr so if you did enjoy it, please dont hesitate to let me know by dropping a comment. Thank you xxx

#f1 #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #Spotify

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koji-haru · 1 month ago

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Pumpkin Pie

[Based off of @inubaki's pumpkin pie recipe! I've never made or had one before, but I will be making them tomorrow. My first ever pumpkin pie!]

Adam had been at Charlie’s hotel for almost a year now, trying very hard to redeem himself back to heaven.

The first few weeks of trying redemption had been another form of hell, not just for Adam, but also for everyone at the hotel as the first man’s arrogance and pride made admitting any wrong doings difficult in the first place, with only the king of hell’s own pride surpassing it. And of course, two prideful beings together in an enclosed area…was not a good combination. Things appeared to be rough and difficult to improve until one day there was a knock at the hotel’s door, loud and demanding. And when Charlie opened the door, eager and ready to welcome a possible new guest, an angel, with a presence so holy that it felt like Heaven itself had gone down to her hotel, instead pushed past her demanding to see his husband. That angel was none other than the archangel Michael himself looking for his apparently missing husband, Adam the first man.

Since then, Adam had been taking redemption much more seriously, not really having much of a choice with Michael staying with him at the hotel and ensuring he did every possible thing to get back home to Heaven as quickly as possible. There were some heartfelt conversations here and there, vulnerabilities admitted and exposed, and relationships rekindled and rebuilt even stronger.

And now, Adam found himself partnered up with both Lucifer and Michael for one of Charlie’s activities, this time baking. Supposedly, cooking together would bring people even closer together through group work and communication. But really, if Adam had any choice, he would rather do all the work himself. Michael, as much as Adam loved him, had many talents across the board except for the kitchen. Then there was Lucifer, the only thing Adam had seen that little devil make were ducks and pancakes and nothing else. If anything, the real job wouldn’t be baking, but to monitor the two brothers and ensure they wouldn’t set the whole place on fire, which Adam didn’t mind but he needed to get back to Heaven (and also he didn’t want to see Charlie upset).

A large, heavy pumpkin laid on top of the countertop, just waiting to be prepared along with the other ingredients Adam had prepared beforehand. He stood in front of it, both hands on his hips as he announced the rules of the kitchen, HIS kitchen.

Lucifer raised a hand. “But why a pumpkin pie? I think apple pies are better.”

“Because I said so,” Adam replied curtly.

“Pumpkin pies are nice,” commented Michael.

Lucifer silently eyed Michael, “This lovestruck idiot.”

“Alright, so some rules before we start. 1) Keep the countertop clean: spills and any messes are to be cleaned immediately; 2) Put things back where you got them; 3) Clean dishes when you’re not busy; and most importantly, 4) Listen to everything I say and don’t get in the way. All clear?,” Adam instructed akin to how he used to talk to his exorcists during training.

Michael nodded seriously at Adam’s words, knowing fully well how his husband could be when it came to the kitchen. While Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed rather offended at the prospect of being ordered around by Adam. He was the king of this place for Satan’s sake. He looked up, a finger slightly raised, ready to oppose Adam’s fourth rule, when he felt a sharp jab to his side that quickly drowned his complaint back down his throat. To his left, Michael had somehow moved closer to him, giving him a subtle warning look. Again, he was not about t back down, this was his–

“Okay, so let’s start then.” Adam turned around and grabbed the pumpkin off the countertop and it off to Lucifer. “Remove the stem, cut it in half and remove the seeds and the stringy bits. Then go grab a baking tray and place it in the oven at 175C.” He then turned to Michael. “You’re helping me with the crust for now.”

With Lucifer kept momentarily busy with a simple task, Adam had Michael measure and bring him the ingredients he needed to make the pie crust. First the flour and salt into a large bowl, then butter and shortening cut into the bowl with flour.

“You want to cut them enough that they look like this.” Adam scooched a little to show the course texture of the flour, butter and shortening mixture to Michael.

“Why not make them finer?,” asked Lucifer behind the two, on his tiptoes, curious to see what the two were talking about. Adam jumped, nearly stabbing him with the fork he was holding.

“Don’t just pop out of nowhere! I thought I told you to do something!,” Adam yelled out, startled.

“Already done,” Lucifer coolly replied as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Adam squinted at him before handing the two forks to Michael. “You keep breaking the butter and shortening,” he said before making his way to the oven to check on Lucifer's progress. It looked fine enough, nothing seemed out of place. At least until Adam decided to check the oven’s temperature. It was set at the highest temperature!

“Are you trying to burn it into crisp?!,” he asked as he quickly turned down the heat and checked on the pumpkin. Good, it wasn’t burnt.

“No? I’m trying to soften it faster,” Lucifer replied as a matter of factly.

Adam took a deep breath. They had just started, there was no need to get heated up this early. “175C for around 1 hour, then we check on it,” he said with finality.

“But–”

“Rule number 4, you listen to everything he says and not get in the way,” Michael called out from the countertop.

“Exactly,” Adam added, arms crossed. “Now go grab some ice cold water and help your brother.”

With a small huff and pout, Lucifer marched his way to the fridge to grab some cold water and some, unfortunately, as Adam had told him. Normally, he would simply do whatever he wanted, he was the king for fuck’s sake, but in order to keep Charlie, his precious princess, happy, he needed to play nice. That, and of course because his brother, Michael, who Adam clearly had wrapped around his finger, would ensure he stuck to the rules, just like how he ensured that everything went smoothly at the hotel ever since he decided to stay in Hell for a while.

While waiting for the pumpkin to soften in the oven, guided the two brothers on how to make the pie crust. They began quietly, working as asked, folding and kneading the dough, then suddenly everyone was covered in flour. Adam’s hair barely even looked brown anymore; how the flour even managed to reach so high up there, he wasn’t sure, but now that he was involved, he sure wasn’t about to back down.

It didn’t matter who started it at this point, it was an all out war. The first man, an archangel, and the devil, all throwing flour and pieces of dough at each other as they ran around the kitchen trying to avoid getting hit, but got hit all the same. Flour and dough arcing through the air; the countertop, walls and the floor either a dusty white or sticky pale yellow. Almost no spot in the kitchen was spared from the onslaught.

Lucifer snuck behind Michael and wrapped and pressed a piece of dough on his hair while the other was busy trying to duck from the flying wet dough that was speeding through the air. Michael managed to escape a wet dough to the face in exchange for a dough stuck on his hair, while Lucifer took a loud, wet splat on his proudly laughing face, which was quickly silenced. The sticky dough clung to his face and sent him stumbling down onto the kitchen floor in a slight panic while both Adam and Michael laughed at the site before them

“My hair!,” Michael gasped aloud when he finally noticed the heaviness on his hair, clutching at his hair as he tried to remove the dough deeply entangled in it.

“Ahahahah! Bullseye bitch!,” Adam cackled as he pointed at Lucifer’s pathetic state on the floor. Michael might have been his initial target, but seeing Lucifer like that made the innocent childishness he used to have in Eden bubble back up to the surface. Back when they used to play pranks together, often at Sera and Michael’s expense…

“Oh, it’s really on now!” Lucifer scraped the dough off of his face, a very determined glint in his eyes and a confidently playful curve on his lips.

Just as Lucifer stood up, ready to dish out hell onto the two, a loud, almost deafening sound rang across the kitchen. The pumpkin was ready, but the kitchen was far from it. The three looked around the kitchen and then at each other, before groaning, at least Lucifer and Adam did, while Michael already poofed up cleaning supplies.

“I’m pretty sure Lucifer started it,” Michael blurted out as he handed everyone their cleaning surprise.

Lucifer gasped dramatically, a hand clutching at his heart, “You’re betraying me! Again!”

“Okaaay, I’ll let the pumpkin cool down while we clean up…,” Adam cut in, not wanting to go down that route. He looked around the chaotic mess that was once a clean kitchen and suddenly felt his head become numb and heavy. Well fuck his kitchen rules, he supposed.

With the kitchen all cleaned up and the pumpkin cool enough, the trio continued their pie making process. Somehow through their earlier mess, they managed to make and save their pie crust, and some still usable though dough for some decor.

The pumpkin puree was made without any more incidents, especially since Adam made sure that Lucifer was distracted enough by asking him, ‘the creative one’, to make decor for the pie using the leftover dough. Adam whisked the sugars, spices, salt and cornmeal into a sauce pan, ensuring they’re the sweetness was to his taste, with Michael as his assistant, handing him things he needed. Then after removing the pan from the heat, he added the wet ingredients, stirring and mixing until everything was smooth and even.

The two then checked on Lucifer working on the countertop, and unsurprisingly, all the pie decor that Lucifer made were either ducks or apples.

“Is there any dough left?,” asked Michael.

Lucifer pointed to his side. “Just a little left.”

Then both Michael and Adam grabbed the remaining and split it between the two of them as they started making their own decor. Little guitars and horned masks for Adam, and swords and scales for Michael.

“Hey! I’m the head of decor here!,” Lucifer called out, offended at the display in front him. They put him in charge only to take his materials away at the last minute!

“I don’t want just ducks,” commented Michael.

“I hate apples,” added Adam.

Lucifer simply huffed at his spot. The audacity! In his own home!

In the end, the pie was made, miraculously cooked to perfection, decorated with pie crust ducks, apples, guitars, masks, swords and scales, and of course, served with whipped cream! The pie looked good, it tasted really good too, but the three bakers didn’t particularly look good with flour and dough stuck in their hair and clothes as if they themselves almost became an ingredient for the pie. Adam himself was so covered in flour, he looked almost as pale as the two brothers.

Charlie looked around the kitchen, it looked clean enough, the hotel wasn’t burnt down and no one had died, or at least no one that she knew of. There was no need to ask how all three of them ended up looking like that. She would count this as an absolute win!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #guitarhero #michael x adam #hazbin hotel michael #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel lucifer

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itsthesinbin · 2 months ago

Text

Sins in Stardust [Chapter 7: First Day on the Job] (Bill Cipher/Reader/Stanford Pines)

Nothing rly to say this chapter! Beyond I'm still ill over this fic.

Just the usual: feedback welcome :3

Read the fic on AO3 here!

If you like it, reblog it!

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You didn’t know if this was a good idea. Bill was clearly not liked by the people here. The gnomes were one thing, but then two people actively being terrified of him to the point of murder should’ve set off alarm bells. Well, it DID, but you also thought back to your dream before you met him. Holding hands with him as kids, as the Axolotl fled back to the stars. You felt he was left with you for a reason. You had to see where things went, at least.

You pulled on the green tshirt, big black question mark front and center. You didn’t deny that you needed work. With no car, you were stuck here anyway- and hotel rooms weren’t cheap. Just the two weeks you had bought in advance ate a good chunk of your savings, which were already dwindling by the time you arrived here. Not to mention having to buy things for two people, which you didn’t plan on doing.

If you ever wanted to leave Gravity Falls, you needed a job. So, after a lot of bickering back and forth with Bill, you two agreed to work at the Mystery Shack. Bill was too small to have a uniform yet, so you slapped your hoodie back onto him for now. You agreed to keep Bill by your side for a while, just until Soos determined he was safe to wander. You two would be cleaning up after tour groups to keep out of sight.

Bill was, understandably, not happy about the arrangement. He bitched all the way back to the hotel. And until bed. And now, as you got ready to get picked up by Wendy. You’ve had it. You turned to Bill, hands on your hips. He had his arms crossed and was sitting on his little window bench.

“Bill. For the love of GOD, listen to me,” you stressed. Bill rolled his eye but motioned for you to continue. You gave him a look before you spoke again.

“Even if you weren’t possibly a dictator-criminal that tried to enslave and kill humanity, clearly you aren’t meant to be in this WORLD,” you snapped. Bill’s eye narrowed at you. You stepped closer.

“We both need their help. I need money- by extension YOU need money. And you need allies. These people are willing to at least give you a chance. Just… go along with it, til those Pines guys show up. Please,” you begged. Bill would sneer if he had a mouth. He knew he had no choice, really. As much as he hated it, he was at the mercy of the people around him. At your mercy. Stupid fucking Axolotl.

“Fine, fine! But once I get my power back I’m burning that entire shack to the GROUND!” He put the hoodie on with a huff and sat down like a pouting baby. You sighed as you brushed your hair out.

“If you do this, maybe I’ll reconsider a deal.” You were completely lying. You were just gonna wait it out as long as possible, and let the people who knew this guy handle him. You just needed to get enough money to get out of town. Maybe you can check out that discount car shop later and see how much you’d need to save. Your lie seemed to perk the triangle up, though.

“Oh you will NOT regret it if you do, kid! We can get Weirdmageddon 2.0 going in NO time! Just wish I remembered the first one.” He jumped down, grabbing your bag for you in an attempt to seem more cooperative. He even went as far as batting his eyelashes at you when you grabbed it. You huffed out a laugh. Your phone went off with a text from Wendy. You could see her truck parked out front through your window. Bill was out the door before you were.

“Hi Wendy- thanks for the carpool,” you greeted, helping Bill into the back seat. He was pissed about it, but she had one of those big trucks you had to climb up into. Poor guy was like 2 feet tall. Wendy gave him the stinkeye through the rearview as you got into the passenger’s seat. Wendy drove off without waiting for you both to get your seatbelts on. Teenagers.

“Just because I’ll be in the gift shop doesn’t mean I won’t be on high alert, cyclops,” Wendy warned, glaring back at Bill. He put a hand on his chest as if shocked.

“Me? I’ll be on my BEST behavior, thank you! I can’t even do anything fun like this, anyway! Stupid, undeveloped frog had to have done something to me.” He grumbled the last part. You shrugged. You didn’t even know what the Axolotl was. Maybe you could ask Bill when you were alone, later.

The ride to the shack didn’t take near as long as the walk. Thank fuck, cause it was so awkward with Bill and Wendy glaring at each other whenever she took her eyes off the road. She directed you to the part of the building that hosted the tours, and showed you where the cleaning supplies were.

“Tour schedule’s here- steer clear of the place when a tour’s going on. If anything else needs doing, Soos’ll flag you guys down. Good luck,” was all she gave, before hurrying out of there. You sighed when she left, glad it didn’t feel like someone was one word away from killing you. Bill also seemed a little relieved she was gone.

You pushed out the little rolling cart that had all the supplies. You were supposed to dust everything off and make the tour area presentable before the first group arrived. You handed Bill a duster, telling him to get the low areas for you. He just stared at you like you were a fucking idiot.

“I’m not doing chores! That’s YOUR job, I just agreed to come along for safety reasons! My own safety!” You dropped the duster into his hands. He gave you a nasty look as you walked ahead.

“Bill, the deal was WE work here ‘til the Pines get back. ‘We’ includes you. At least I’m not making you try to use the mop.” The broom and mop were bigger than he was. He let out a pissed, near animalistic growl as he slapped the bottoms of displays with his duster. It was ineffective, but you figured you’d work up to doing it properly. At least he didn’t try to stab you with it.

“... Who’s the Axolotl?” You asked after about 10 minutes of silent cleaning. You had been debating asking, and felt like it was a bad decision when you saw him tense and freeze. He let out an exaggerated groan. In a rare moment of seriousness, he sighed.

“It’s… a powerful deity- more powerful than me, and I don’t say that lightly. It HAS to be the one behind this. You all having dreams about it and then me losing half my memory? No coincidence. It’s the only creature that COULD do that,” he explained, reaching up to scratch at his upper point in confusion. His irritation faded slightly and he began to pace back and forth.

“I just… don’t know why,” he mumbled. “If it has enough to wipe my memory and send me to this dimension freely, why not just kill me? To torture me?” You twisted your hands around the plastic pole of the broom. If what he- and Wendy- has told you was true, maybe he deserved to die. Or be tortured. But…

“That dream I had didn’t seem like it was… telling me to torture you, or anything like that,” you said quietly as you headed for a cobweb in the corner. It had actual insect carcasses in it, so you figured it wasn’t a prop to make the place creepier. Maybe. You’d apologize to Soos if you were wrong. Bill watched you for a minute.

“What DID you dream about? I just woke up there,” he asked, leaning against the Sascrotch display. You frowned. It was odd that apparently everyone involved with Bill- including you, who only just met him- had some kind of dream.

“Well… I was floating in space, and it appeared as a bunch of stars. Moved its tail and suddenly you were there as a kid, I guess. I was a kid too. It left, you asked if I wanted to watch the stars with you, and then I woke up.” You cringed at the webs caught in the broom. You grabbed a glove to pull the bits out to throw them into the trash.

“As a kid-? What the hell is it thinking? Is it trying to give me a pity party?” Bill paused. “... I wish I’d thought of that.” You shook your head, a little exasperated and amused. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at him.

“Either way, you’re here now. Might as well make the most of it.” Bill hummed, crossing his arms as he watched you. He definitely would make the most of it- you were already making it easy. He could tell you had some sense of good will toward him. Combined with just breaking it off with a clingy ex, he could smell the savior complex. His memories may be gone to an extent, but he didn’t lose his edge. He knew he could get you wrapped around his finger, easy. So, he’d play along.

He went back to dusting and wiping down the parts of displays he could reach. All this shit was stupid looking. A bunch of taxidermied animals stapled together. That severed hand was real, though. That was kinda neat.

“So, about those powers you’re supposed to have…” you started, a little embarrassed to pry into his personal business. But then you remembered he was an obvious egomaniac. He practically lit up at the fact he got to talk about himself.

“Oh-ho, what COULDN’T I do? I could read minds and memories, invade and manipulate your dreams- If we make a deal, I could rewrite your vision to let you see colors no human has! It’d be fun!” You couldn’t say you HATED the idea of seeing shrimp colors. The fact you didn’t immediately reject the idea was a good sign to him.

“You wanna see Brown 2?” You made a confused noise. Bill was grinning at you, hands behind his back mischievously. You leaned against the wall, a small smile on your face.

“Really? Brown 2?” “Really! It’s more brown! You’d love it, Stardust. And True Magenta. The magenta you humans got is NOTHING like the real deal,” he exclaimed proudly. You snorted a little, getting off the wall so you two could continue your work.

“Okay, you got me. Seeing more brown and real magenta sounds cool. I can show you how to start a fire with a soda can and some toothpaste.” Bill stopped. That… was actually interesting. You could tell he thought so.

“My parents were survival nuts. We went camping every year. They wanted me to know how to live off the land completely- fire-making, foraging, purifying water… All that fun stuff.” You smiled, remembering those starry nights and long hikes fondly. Learning what tracks belonged to which animal and what kind of mushrooms were edible.

“So, what do your parents think of you skipping town and being out here? They the “leave home and disown you’” types or what?” Your smile fell. Your hands tightened around the broom again, matching the way your chest squeezed.

“They’re… long gone. Dad died first, then my mom later. I’m sure they’d… be proud I left, though,” you said slowly. Bill was silent. You didn’t notice the way his eye trailed to the floor. The grip he had on the duster tightened.

“Do… triangle demons have parents?” You turned to him, and you only caught him staring downward for a split second before he laughed.

“I had to have come from somewhere, wouldn’t I? You said you saw me as a kid!” You flushed, embarrassed. Of course you did- you just told him you did. He waved it off, though.

“Are they still around, then?” He was uncharacteristically quiet. Something flashed across his eye. You could’ve sworn it was despair. His only answer, after a long silence, was a simple “no”.

“... Guess we have something in common, then, huh?” Bill let out a humorless laugh, turning back to a display that held a jar of eyes. All the eyes seemed to stare him down.

“Not as much as you think, Stardust.”

#gravity falls #bill cipher #ford pines #stanford pines #bill cipher x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #bill cipher x reader x stanford pines #bill cipher x reader x ford pines #sins in stardust

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moody-alcoholic · 6 months ago

Text

Formal dinner

This is just the first draft of a weird idea that popped in my head...

I started re-watching gray's anatomy and I think that's mostly to blame... Especially this scene. I also needed an excuse to practice writing from Simons POV so here you go.

Summary: Simon x OC 2k words. Formal military dinner gone wrong..? CW: alcohol, serious asthma attack, mentions of medication, medical emergency, medical inaccuracies. First draft, honestly I just love writing medical stuff.

Masterlist

Enjoy <3

“Well well, look at you all smart in officer formals.” I heard Rosaly’s voice behind me. I turn to see her wearing a long blue dress that seemed to be pulling in all the right places.

“Very nice.” I say she spins around I see how low cut the back is as she adjusts the clasp on her clutch. Her hair was done up too curled and I couldn’t ignore the light layer of makeup on her face making her lips look shiny, hiding the heavy bags under her eyes. I find myself smiling, I want to reach out and touch her. She looks up at me taking a step closer quickly looking around then leaning into me.

“I do have a thing for men in formals.” She purrs in my ear. I let out a breath as she giggles moving back. I can see the cheeky grin on her face. It’s almost too much, I want to pull her back up to my room and skip the festivities, I didn’t want to be here and I know she didn’t either. Price had to practically order her to come. ‘Set a good example as we should 141 is an important unit, there will be a lot of important people there.’ People started passing us through the main doors leading in the hall where the event was taking place, the hotel was grand, just like the last dinner event Price dragged me too. This is where he networks gets to gush about 141 to everyone sometimes picks up a medal at the end, what he’s really for though are the jobs he can get for us.

“Rosie?” I hear someone say, she turns around to see someone coming towards her.

“Mike, hey.” She says, I remember him he was the trauma surgeon at Gibraltar. He introduces the woman looped on his arm as his girlfriend and makes small talk with her. I look around for Price and Gaz they should be here by now I look down at my watch it’s almost 7. I look back up seeing Mike say his goodbyes going through into the room, Rosaly follows after them and for a second I look confused until she comes back out with two champagne flutes.

“You’re going to need this.” She says handing me one and sipping the other. I already felt exposed, such a formal event meant I couldn’t get away with my normal get up, when Price broached the subject about the mask he knew I wasn’t going to like it. ‘It’s all friendlies, they won’t even remember by the end of the night everyone will be pissed anyway.’ I didn’t want to take the chance, the whole point is anonymity, besides being in a room with potentially 100’s of people, no thank you I would much rather be Ghost not Simon, we settled on a black face mask covering my nose and mouth.

“Williams you clean up nicely.” I hear Price coming down the corridor with Gaz at his side.

“Looking sexy Gaz.” Rosaly says finishing her drink, he laughs.

“Could say the same about you too.” Gaz walks up to us hugging Rosaly. Price adjusts his beret. I subconsciously touch mine, it’s been a while since I have had to wear it, I wouldn't be surprised if it was lopsided already, I nod at him his is fine, he smiles nodding back at me. Only officers are required to wear formals since they’re the ones getting all the awards, everyone else gets to dress fancy, I cant help but wonder if Rosaly chose a blue dress on purpose or not. I hand my glass to her as she takes it out my hands.

“You’re drinking all ready?” Gaz laughs taking the full glass out her hands.

“I can’t help it I’m just so excited to listen to 2 hours of speeches form the same 3 people.” I smile at her sarcasm. Price shakes his head and leads us in the room. The table plan has already been set out and we find our way to our table and sit down. Rosaly waves a server over ordering drinks, as the speakers make their way to the stage.

The first speaker goes through the usual spiel of welcoming everyone and guests then going through the running order for the night. I look round the room as the waiter comes back with a try of drinks, there are a lot of people every table is full, sometimes I catch eyes wondering on us then quickly looking away. Everyone starts clapping and I join in watching a video start to play on the projector. With the lights off I sip my drink, letting it burn my throat and warm my belly. I look over at Price and Gaz watching the video, Rosaly is a little in front of me to my right she’s tapping her fingers on the table. I want to reach out and grab her hand, not here though. I wonder if Price is up for any awards I forgot to ask him. The rest of the speeches drone on, a few people get awards for bravery and what not. Some people get promotions, nothing higher then captain though, they would be done in a separate special ceremony. I recognise some of the people from years past, some I think I recognise but I’m not sure. Price is always introducing me to so many people I forget who I’ve met and who I haven’t. When the last speeches are done there is an interval break. Rosaly excuses herself to the bathroom and I turn to Gaz as he taps me on the shoulder.

“Is Price up for any awards?” Gaz asks me quietly.

“I don’t know I forgot to ask.” I admit finishing my drink. Price stands up to greet someone turning to introduce us.

“Where is Williams?” He asks as we stand up to shake his hand.

“Bathroom.” I say.

“Your new medic right?” The man asks Price who nods.

“I heard she’s a handful.” He chuckles we all join in, but I give Price a look. ‘What the hell does that mean?’ He shakes Price’s hand and walks away again, after a few more minutes and a few more people coming to say hi to Gaz and Price, Rosaly comes back with a tray of drinks. I shake my head at her taking mine off the tray.

“You should slow down Williams,” Price says.

“It’s an open bar, besides what are supposed to do other then get royally shit faced, there is a reason you marked tomorrow as recovery on the calendar.” Price shakes his head smiling but takes the drink. Rosaly places the empty glasses on the tray and a waiter comes and takes it. She turns to my sipping her drink.

“Did I miss anything?” She asks.

“Meeting Price’s friends.” Gaz said, she smiled her eyes finding their way to me. I held her gaze, she did look so pretty in that strapped dress they way it brings out the colour in her eyes, her cheeks are rosy, she looks flushed, relaxed enjoying herself. She plays with her necklace, I don’t think I even recognised it until now. It’s beautiful though, silver and diamonds but simple.

“Excuse me!” I hear the squeaking of the mic and look back at the stage. I see a man nervously rubbing his hands. “I know this is a bit of a strange request but are there any doctors here?” I look down at Rosaly who has shrunk down in her chair sipping on her drink. There is murmuring round the hall. Rosaly is almost hiding under the table now her eyes flicking over to Gaz and Price.

“We’ve got a medic over here!” Price calls. I see her close her eyes sighing and straighten up.

“Price I’m drunk.” She protests.

“Everyone is drunk Williams.” Before I know it there is a group of people making their way towards us. We all get up as the crowd parts showing a woman gripping her chest, she is clearly struggling to breath her face bright red. The scene makes Rosaly instantly change, she’s not drunk anymore, she puts the glass down on the table leading the woman to a chair.

“She has asthma we’ve tried an inhaler it’s not working.” Someone says. Handing the blue inhaler to Rosaly who shakes it.

“Have you called an ambulance?” She asks, the woman immediately starts to panic frantically shaking her head.

“She keeps refusing.” The same person says. “I didn’t want to make her panic.” Rosaly turns to us she throws me her clutch bag.

“Price call an ambulance, LT my trauma bag is in my room, go now!” She snaps. I don’t wait pushing through the crowd, I break into a sprint when I get out the main hall, her room is on the second floor I fumble through her bag looking for the keycard. I press it into the door rushing in. I see her bags at the foot of her bed grabbing the cammo backpack with the cross on the back. Why does she even have this with her? I don’t have time to question it as I run back out the room flying down the stairs. When I make it back to the main hall the crowd has gotten bigger. I push my way through I see Mike here now stroking the woman's back she looks worse Rosaly is trying to tell her to breath as I drop the bag at her feet. She lets go of the woman's arm throwing the bag open taking out a syringe of something securing a needle on it.

“Ambulance ETA?” She asks.

“15.” Price calls back. I watch as she rubs the woman's side with something.

“Sharp scratch.” She says injecting it in. “8:12.” She says starting the timer on her watch.

“Keep taking those deep breaths.” Mike says rubbing her back. I watch as Rosaly carefully recaps the needle, then turning her attention back to the woman. She attaches something to her finger, after a few seconds it starts beeping rapidly. The woman seems to be calming down Rosaly rubs her legs looking at her face. She takes a big breath in and I see her relax dropping her hand from her chest, she looks like she’s going to cry. Rosaly stands up stopping her timer.

“Thank you,” The woman says between breaths. Rosaly rubs her arm bending over her to see her.

“You’re okay don’t try and talk, keep taking those deep breaths.” She nods.

“I feel weird.” She says grabbing her chest again.

“You will for a bit it’s the adrenaline.” Rosaly explains, I hear movement behind me and see the crowd separate to the the paramedics through. Rosaly explains the situation, and convinces the woman to go with them at least to get some oxygen through her lungs. Mike goes to stand next to Rosaly as the woman is led away. The crowd starts to disperse.

“I can’t believe you wanted to trach her,” she laughs playfully nudging him.

“What would you have done if the adrenaline didn't work?” He asks.

“I would have pushed another adrenaline,” She explains.

“And then?” He asked crossing his arms.

“Then intubation.” She mirrors his body language.

"With 2 adrenaline's in her system?”

“Oh I’m sorry in which universe is an awake tracheostomy better then intubation?” She tilts her head waiting for a response.

“Won’t make a difference if she’s not breathing.” He says back. I can tell this is riling them both up, the mix of adrenaline and alcohol is not helping, look over at Price.

“This is the problem with you Mike all you want to do is cut, you’re a surgeon first.” She bends down picking her bag up.

“Okay calm down you two,” Price intervenes before Mike can reply. “She’s alive and she’s okay, lets enjoy the rest of the night.” Rosaly sighs and heads back to the table throwing her bag underneath the table picking up her drink. I see her hand shake as she sips it. She’ll never admit it but she loves this, the high of an unexpected medical emergency. That’s why she has the bag with her, for moments like this. She turns to look at me, I see the shine in her eyes, the fire in her belly, she smiles at me. I smile back I know she can tell her hand reaches out and squeezes mine. God I can’t wait to rip that dress off her later.

I cannot wait to start med school

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod #call of duty #ao3 #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #141 #task force 141 #tf 141 #cod 141 #medicine #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #ghost cod #captain john price #john price cod #medical emergency

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believesthings · 7 months ago

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Not Just A Girl - Chapter 4 // Jason Sudeikis x Reader

Summary: You're a new up and coming actress. At your first awards show, you run into your celebrity crush, Jason Sudeikis. Trying to navigate the bond you form with him while both juggling your respective careers proves to be quite the task with some unexpected twists along the way.

Tag List: @my-soupy-brain @tegan8314 @tortilla-maria1

Once again you wake up entirely too early of your own accord. To work out some of your nervous energy you wander down to the weight room to move for a bit. Your realize once you've made it down there that you've left your phone in your room but you don't need your phone for the a half hour, right? That's the new thing these days, Isn't it? Technology detox? Sure, why not give it go.

Your callback isn't scheduled until 10:00 which gives you plenty of time to obsess over every little detail you can imagine into being before having to slip into the persona of Mia and hopefully finally get conformation regarding the part.

Comfortably tired from your workout, you head to the elevator to go back up to your room and happen to spot your new friend - the security guard from last night - leaving as he gets off his shift. He looks even younger outside of his uniform. Quite the shift, you marvel, for someone so young - but then you often held off jobs while you were working in theater, just son you could afford the rent.

You give him a friendly wave which he returns with an exhausted by happy smile. On the elevator, you remind yourself to relay your promise to Jason when you call him later in the day. You've decided on calling him around lunchtime so as to hopefully not interrupt his day. He made you promise that you would call after your callback, but he never specified when.

A glance at your phone tells you that 30 minutes with it, while freeing, is actually quite impractical. You've not got numerous messages to shift through.

Knock them dead, Honey.

From your mother.

The award looks great. Go get us another to match!

From your Father, with an attached photo of him, making a goofy face next to your award in a newly built cabinet.

Todd had sent a series of messages - first regarding the fan mail that he wanted to pass on to you at your earliest convenience, a.k.a. come clear some of this clutter from my workplace - followed by directions to the building where you needed to go today, a brief pep talk... remember your training, so on, so forth - and then an oddly phrased text requesting that you call him after lunch because by that time he thought he would know something you would like to hear.

You had sent him the list of places that you had been interested in renting while you stayed in town, perhaps he would have news regarding that? You can't live in the hotel forever, despite how tempting it would be to do so.

Will also opted for a series of texts:

If they don't choose you for Mia, they're mad. - x

Followed by:

Can't wait to see you and discuss your new boyfriend.

Then another one:

Jo said the pair of you went house hunting without me. You owe me drinks!

You try to remember where he is and what he could be doing at the moment, judging if you can call and chat. Is he doing interviews? Maybe a photo shoot?

The next text doesn't help clear up where he could be.

The makeup trailer seems empty without you. When will we be able to coerce someone into making All Your Monsters 2?

You save the texts from Jason for last.

Good Morning, Darling. Don't forget your promise to call.

You can't help but grin. "Or what?" You think to yourself.

Before protesting again, my phone is on silent and I'll be checking my messages at every available moment until I hear from you.

You shake your head and laugh, imaging Jason sneaking glances at his phone every time the director calls cut. Though it makes you smile you'd feel incredibly guilty if you got him into trouble on set.

Also, we had food provided during our breaks from a wonderful little breakfast spot downtown. I'd love the chance to take you.

This makes you blush. Breakfast with Jason. Breakfast following...

Before your mind can stray too far down that distracting line of thought another text arrives from Todd:

Did you get the directions I sent?

Really, he worries far too much about your sense of direction.

Yes, I'll let you know when I get there.

You pack up a few things into a satchel in the hopes that you can window shop at some point during the day. To pass the time and distract yourself from the butterflies in your stomach you use your phone to scroll through the media links that Todd has sent you. There are so many articles speculating on your connection with Jason - curiosity makes you scan through the titles.

The new woman in Jason's life, Battle of the Co-stars over before it began? Goldstein out on day one as Sudeikis cuddles up with new woman.

After reading through a few of the articles you get distracted by the copious photos linked to the sites: publicity photos of each of you at the awards show with candid shots from the night sprinkled in, more from the after party, walking along the street, even a few from your date the previous night. Scrolling through the pictures you are reminded of the long days during filming All Your Monsters when you would pas the time by searching our various funny pictures and sending them to Will. You spent an entire week sending him the same photo of a squirrel with his cheeks overstuffed - it had driven him crazy.

Rather than sit around in your hotel you decide to go ahead over to the location for your callback and maybe find a quiet spot to sit and center yourself before having to disappear into the character of Mia.

You arrive far earlier than just a few minutes, which all works out according to plan -- finding a place to sit and collect yourself proves a bit challenging. As far as options go, sitting in the lobby isn't much help because of all the foot traffic... there is a row of chairs near the door that you were directed to go to, but that puts you in the awkward position of having to see who walking of the room just before you have to go in. Everything has been kept incredibly quiet regarding the project.

You can hear voices coming from within the room through the door, which was left slightly ajar. You know better than to try to knock on the door to announce your arrival, for all you know they could still be with the previous pairing and interrupting that would be awkward beyond even your standards. You realize the voices have grown a bit more insistent and you can actually make out the words of the person who is currently speaking and it is n=certainly not dialogue from the pages you've been given.

"I just don't see the wisdom in it..."

Part of the response is lower than you can make out... "-thought we had agreed it would be best for production."

"Well things changed, maybe we don't want that anymore."

"Do we scrap all the other choices we've made so far then too?" Someone was very unhappy about something regarding this James & Mia movie. "You said - you said that casting unknowns was the most beneficial!"

Oh - your stomach flips. Oh, you really shouldn't be listening to this, any of this. You should get up and walk back out to the lobby and wait there until it is closer to your appointment time. What if they open the door to find you sitting here? You want to flee but now that your ears have picked up on the conversation your body seems to refuse to let you escape.

"Look - you can be on board with this or not but that doesn't change the fact that we are going to be telling all of them today and.."

The irate voice was even louder, loud enough to make you wince and unglue from your position. "You still want us to see all of them? You don't consider that - I don't know - a waste of everyone's time? Now that you've unilaterally made the biggest decision we..."

You don't stay to hear the rest of the tirade. You're already walking down the hall as quietly as you can. You don't pause in the lobby but burst out the door onto the sidewalk, the sun shining ahead help as you as your best to take steady breaths.

Pull it together. Breathe in, out.

In. Out.

Ok. So they're going a different way, at least they're going to tell you rather than leave you waiting for a phone call.

Breathe in. Out.

Why wait around to hear they don't want you? You're feeling petulant but quickly find a reply to the question: you never know what other projects these individuals might have lined up that they might recommend for you.

Everything is an opportunity.

You've been turned down for parts you've gotten attached to before. You close your eyes and concentrate on breathing until the urge to dry heave subsides. Opening your eyes, you sigh up at the building. There's one voice you want to hear before you go back inside to face their decision..

Your finger are still slightly shaking as you dial Jason's number. It goes to voicemail, thankfully he did as he said he would and turned his phone to silent.

"Hey-" You scowl when you hear your voice waver and force a smile, trying to change the pitch of your voice. "So, I'm currently standing outside enjoying the beautiful sunshine and thinking of you. Havn;t gone in yet but I overheard something I probably shouldn't have... and well, I think they're going with someone else. Whoever it is, I'm sure it'll do the project wonders. I just... well,,,"

You look down at your watch. "Damn." It took you longer to gather yourself than you thought. You've got to run back inside or you'll be late. To top it off, you notice that in your frazzled state to check your watch, your thumb ended the call. You heave a sigh before turning the phone ring tone down and stuffing it into your bag.

Back in the building you walk with as much confidence as you can muster back towards the proper room. The door is open now, the silence reminding you of the quiet just before all hell breaks loose.

Ok. you are going to go in there and wow them, even if they've already made up their minds. You'll explain everything to Jason later - hopefully over many drinks.

Upon entering the room you are warmly greeted by the casting director, a man who reminds you of your theater teacher from college. He introduces you in turn to the individuals sitting alongside him - almost in order of the chain of command, working from himself all the way up to the man you recognize moments before the casting director says his name - the director of the project. After introductions you drop your bag to the floor beside the chair they've set out in front of them. Was your phone buzzing? It was hard to place to source of the sound over the shifting of all the people in front of you and the added movement of the script and other odd things in you bag. You didn't really need to bring the script with you, but you would thought you have a moment to go over your notes to yourself... of course, that was before you eavesdropped on the conversation that was taking up your brain space. You start to lean over to adjust the way your bag is sitting and maybe pull the pages out but you stop your actions when the casting director addresses you:

"Well, before we get started, Welcome back! You were absolutely lovely in your audition and I wanted you to know that. We loved the interpretation of Mia that you brought to the table."

Were absolutely lovely. Loved. Past tense. As in we don't love your interpretation anymore because someone did something better, but thanks for playing anyway. You keep your breathing calm and level by dropping yourself out of the moment as much as you can.

"We think we've found--" he glances askance before correcting his words. "We have cast our James and are hoping that we might have the right fit for you playing against him."

That - was not what you were expecting him to say. You blink to let the words sink in for a moment before smiling. "I- thank you! I'd love to give it a go."

"Excellent" He beams down the line at the other members of the team, most of whom are smiling - but you notice the production manager, (or were they introduced as the production coordinator?) doesn't seem to be very interested in the conversation. "We're actually going to have to wait a few minutes for his arrival so let's just run through a few lines and then we'll see where we're at." You nod before squaring yourself in your chair and letting your careful construct of Mia take control.

Half an hour later you're up and pacing, you've just finished a particularly tense bit of dialogue with all.. but again, just the one... seeming to enjoy themselves as they are again liking what you are showing them. You've amended small bits of your reactions as a result of your discussions with Jason regarding certain moments. Thankfully a break is called so you can scoop up one of the bottles of water they've kindly provided. You chose not to reseat yourself right away. The energy you've called upon for the scene making you a bit restless now that you don't have a way to expel it. Pacing doesn't seem to be doing to the trick so you let the character of Mia slip back into the corner where you've nestled her away in your mind.

With a glance down at the far end of the table, the casting director then checks his watch, "We;ll just call down to the lobby and see if he's made it yet... we did agree to the 10:30 - 10:45 time frame."

While he makes his phone call, you perch on the edge of your chair to scoop up the script from your bag and flip through the pages to review some of your notes. Remember how tenuous the relationship is by this time. Or Would she allow James to see how horribly he's injured her here or would she strive for impassiveness? In searching our a particular phrase you wanted to highlight you notice writing on pages you don't remember commenting on. A closer look brings you a smile. Jason has written you notes as to his feelings on the scenes. Most seeming to be in agreement with your assessment. Bless him. Your trace your fingertip over is handwriting, figuring he had written it while waiting for you to finish getting ready for your night out.

"Oh - excellent! And you already sent him up? Good!" The casting director clasps his hands together with such explosive force it jolts you out of your thoughts. "Alright, we are delighted to tell you that -"

Well. That makes twice is less than an hour that you've been surprised ( and then delighted) by the turn of events - Brett nods his acknowledgement to you.

You realize the casting director is still talking, "...And Brett's schedule being as busy as it is we weren't sure if we would be able to land him for the role, but by the time we get production underway things shouldn't be problematic. We'll try to get through this quickly..."

Your casting director is talking more to the people alongside him than you right now but you still nod in reply. You take note of the expression of those in charge - the director looks particularly pleased with himself, but again the production manager/coordinator - really, you were going to have to clarify that eventually - doesn't appear all that interested in the events unfolding. Actually, as you analyze her expression, you realize that is she seemed merely disinterested in you before, she seems to be seething now that Brett Is in the room. Wow, not doing a very good job of hiding her opinions at the moment... Obviously, it was her protestations that you overheard earlier.

Brett has finished shaking hands with those in charge and scoops you now into a gentle hug. "Surprise..." He murmurs into your ear just before releasing you.

How long had Brett been interested in the role? You think back through the odd few texts the pair of you have exchanged since meeting the night of the award show and you realize that you never mentioned this particular project while talking with him. Apparently, this is just one of those wild coincidences.

How long will your luck hold our concerning your career? You are reminded of your audition for All Your Monsters when you walked into the room and saw Will Poulter sitting there waiting for you. How did you overcome your nerves then? Right, push your own feelings aside and concentrate on the the character... Your drop the script back into the chair and take a quick sip of water while listening as the casting director gives brief directions as to what he'd like to see from the pair of you.

By 11:00 all involved seem to be on the same page regarding the casting of Brett as James and you in the role of Mia - even, to your pleasure, the production manager. You don't envy them the task of seeing the remaining people today... that exchange must be a tough one. Brett nods great fully when they acknowledge that he need to get back to filming for the current project he's working on. He waits for you to grab your bag and walks with you back towards the outside world.

"I'd be happy to drop you somewhere on my way back to the studio."

You shake your head while thanking him. "That's ok. I think I need to walk around a bit." You feel your phone vibrating into your side through the fabric of your bag. " Ah - and I have a few phone calls to make. Long story..."

The pair of your pause in the lobby to say goodbye. Brett gives your arm a brief squeeze. "Which there will be plenty of time to hear now that we're working together. I'll see you again soon."

In the hour that you've been in the callback your phone has gone nuts. You send off a quick text to Todd letting him know of the developments, omitting your little panic attack before the audition though he's surely likely to hear about it somehow. There are both texts and voicemails from Jason You read through the messages first:

Your message cut off, is everything ok?"

Everything is now.

The next:

Todd said he wasn't even aware you'd gotten there. You did go in didn't you?

Oh Damn, you forgot to tell Todd you had arrived since you were so distracted. Well, he knows now.

Forget whatever you heard. You show them how passionate you are about this character and they will have no choice but to be swayed.

Oh God, you've apparently really distracted him from his work.

Darling, answer your phone. Please. You're killing me here. Smoke Signal, carrier pigeon. I'll take anything to know you're okay.

You stop scrolling through the messages. You imagine his voicemails will be more of the same. You quickly dial his number and to your surprise, he answers on the first ring. Before he can say a word you rush out as much information as you can.

"Jason, I'm fine. Everything is fine. I did go - I'm so sorry to have worried you. I got the part, Jason!" You can hear him breathe out in reaction to your news. "I can't believe you called Todd, I'm in trouble aren't I?"

This results in a chuckle. "No you're not in trouble though I wouldn't mind putting eyes on you right now, just for good measure."

You close your eyes to fight back the emotions rising to surface. You want nothing more than to be standing with him having this conversation in person. "Hmm I probably owe everyone on your set apology cakes or something for how much I seem to have stressed you out." Another laugh comes over the line. How you love making him do that. "I very much doubt they would just let me waltz in there with a plate of cookies though... Who all did you call anyway?"

Jason considers for a moment and you can hear him being summonsed in the background which is apparently ignoring because they repeat themselves louder. He responds to them with a bit of hesitation. "Yeah, I'm on my way!"

"Jason, I know this is going to be a long day for you but... could you -" You plan on asking him to call you or at least express your desire to see him.

"Yes."

You laugh. "You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"Doesn't matter. Yes. You had me at could you."

You try to think of something outrageous to demand of him surely because he agreed but you settle for the delight you feel knowing that you'll be able to wrap your arms around him in a matter of hours. "Okay, then." You can hear him being called more insistently and smile. "I'm really going to have to send over dozens of apology baskets. I'll call Todd to get right on that. You said tentatively you thought you'd be done by 8 tonight, right?" Jason confirms the timeframe and you add, "Ok - I'll be there when you're done. Call me if that changes. Now go before they irrevocably hate me for taking you away from work."

You take a taxi over to Todd's office after calling to both apologize for any undue stress - ok, all the undue stress. - and the request that he send over a massive basket of delicious treats to the studio where Jason is working. He laughs, "You want the note to say what?"

"Trust me, it is justified. Please Todd?" You note the taxi driver is doing his best not to laugh.

#jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis #Jason Sudeikis rpf #fluff #Jason Sudeikis fluff #]x reader #Jason Sudeikis fanfic #Jason Sudeikis fanfiction #Jason Sudeikis fic #rpf #not just a girl

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munsonsduchess · 2 years ago

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Nothing but a Good Time

summary: your coworker has called out sick and needs you to cover her interview on your day off

w/c: 9,786

warnings: nothing actually, this is p tame

a/n: it’s not plagiarism if it’s my own work! this has been rattling around in my brain for a hot minute and since i won’t be able to update Shadow of the Moon till late sunday i wanted to put something out

if you enjoy this consider reblogging! it really helps me out 🫶🏻🤟🏼

(moodboard by me)

Of all days for something to go wrong it would have to be today. A day which, as you informed your editor when he called at the ridiculous hour of 9am, you weren’t even supposed to be working. You had checked and double checked before leaving the office the previous evening that you wouldn’t be on call today nor would they need you in the office, you had planned therefore to catch up on everything you missed while you were working.

Laundry, grocery shopping, catching up on that show you’d been watching. The basics. The universe however seemed to laugh in the face of those plans so there you were rushing out of a crowded train station trying to hail a taxi looking like someone’s lost teenage daughter.

All this for a band you didn’t even like. Which admittedly you seemed to be the only one in the office who didn’t but your editor had begged and pleaded and even offered you an extra day off for covering the interview when it transpired that the other colleague who was supposed to be interviewing the band had gotten a stomach bug from her kids and wasn’t fit to leave the bathroom much less travel across the city of london to go to an interview in an expensive hotel for a band your magazine was foaming at the mouth over.

So there you were, coffee stains blessedly hidden on your black shirt, standing at the reception of one of the most expensive hotels in the city waiting for the go ahead to do your job,

“They’ll see you now” a large man also dressed in all black with a very impressive mohawk called from the private elevators, “follow me”

With a sigh you did as the man asked and followed him into the lift where he stood in impassible silence until you reached the penthouse, of course it was the penthouse, where he waited for you to follow him down the plush corridor before stopping in front of the suite.

Well time to get this over with and go back to ignoring the every growing pile of laundry in your apartment.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Walking into the suite you were actually pretty surprised not to be assaulted by the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke, it really did look as though the band even allowed the housekeeping staff in to clean the room. Not to mention all the appliances were still in their predetermined spots and nothing was missing or in the pool on the ground floor.

Standing in the main living room of the suite you started to take out the things you needed for the interview and found a comfortable seat next to a coffee table where you could set up your phone to record. You’d type up your notes later,

“Hey you’re that magazine chick!” a voice called from another part of the suite causing you to look up and find yourself staring into what could only be described as deep chocolate coloured eyes and a wild mop of curly hair.

No doubt in your mind this was Eddie Munson the lead guitarist and songwriter of the band. He had a very distinctive look

“I’m the reporter yes, it’s nice to meet you” you introduced yourself and held out your hand to shake the man’s,

“You’re totally not what I expected” he laughed as he took your hand and gave it a hardy shake, you didn’t know if that was supposed to be a compliment or not “the guys and I have been out sightseeing” Eddie continued, the bright smile never leaving his face.

“Oh really? Have you seen anything in particular?” you asked out of politeness not really expecting the outburst of energy that came from the man in front of you ,

“Eddie, chill man you’re gonna scare her away” another man said with a sigh, “Gareth. Nice to meet you”

“Likewise, you’re the drummer aren’t you?”

“That’s me. The good looking one”

“That isn’t what that article Nancy sent me said” Eddie said with a grin and wink in your direction, “besides chicks totally dig Jeff”

“Damn right they do” the man who’d followed Gareth into the room said, “ladies go wild for me”

“Yeah, yeah you’re just the best thing on planet earth and you’ve got your pick of the ladies” Eddie’s smile didn’t waver and it seemed as though this was some sort of inside joke between the three men as no one said more on the subject,

“Well if you’re all ready to get started” you gestured to the seats in front of you and picked your little recorder from the table, “so if you don’t mind i’m going to record the interview on my little cassette recorder here and then I’ll be typing it up and it’ll go into next week’s edition of the magazine. If you’re interested I’m sure you could pick it up from any newsstand”

“I mean we’re gonna be in town for another couple weeks so why don’t you just come by again?” Eddie said, you couldn’t detect anything but sincerity in his tone. He really did want you to come and hand deliver a magazine.

“Well I don’t know what I’ll be doing next week so I might not have the time” you answered, you weren’t sure if this was some sort of entitled rockstar behavior or something else but you’d done this job long enough to be on your guard when it came to celebrities.

Before anyone else could ask any questions you set your cassette player to record and started the interview. Luckily your colleague had already prepped a list of questions and things she wanted to talk about so you had no trouble following her notes.

The band was only too happy to answer questions and talk about themselves, you had half expected them to be like a lot of other ‘huge’ bands you’d interviewed in your time with the magazine - full of themselves, but they really did seem like three down to earth Midwestern boys. Eddie and Gareth had grown up together in a trailer park in Indiana and met Jeff later in life, they’d all shared a passion for music and started doing gigs in run down bars and clubs, at friends parties and really anything they could get a ride to. It was at one of these grungy bars in the middle of nowhere they’d been spotted and the subsequent rise to fame had been meteoric.

Throughout the interview the three men laughed and joked and poked fun at each other, at the music industry, they spoke passionately about things that were close to their hearts, causes they believed in and of course their families.

Jeff and Gareth seemed more than content to enjoy life on the road. The perks that came with being world famous Rock Stars but it seemed Eddie wanted more. He talked a lot about friends he’d left behind when the band made it big including a group of kids he talked about as if they were family,

“I mean you know what it’s like” he said gesturing to you, “you’re a mom”

It took you a second to recover from that before you raised your hands and spoke,

“Oh no i’m not a mom, you must mean Amy. She was supposed to be here today but her little one Jamie brought home a tummy bug and she’s not in any state to be anywhere but the house”

“I thought you were Amy!” Eddie said seriously, “shit I’m sorry I totally didn’t mean to offend you!”

“It’s fine, I know she was supposed to be here and that’s who the magazine told you to expect. I mean you probably thought I was a shit mom to be showing up looking like someone’s angsty teenager” you laughed trying to lighten the mood.

As the interview proceeded you found yourself reaching into the bag you'd brought with you for another cassette to keep recording. You hadn’t planned on the interview going on this long,

"That's a cool bag" Jeff commented and you reached for it, "are all of those patches for bands you listen to?"

You gestured to the little canvas messenger bag that had been your constant companion since university and the plethora of band patches decorating the front flap,

"I mean yeah, I work for a music magazine I've listened to a lot of music" you joked,

"We should get you one for us so you can have our band on your bag all the time" Eddie said, "we've got some pins too if you want one for the strap. I could get you one"

The rest of the interview proceeded after you'd switched out the cassette and you began to notice an almost imperceptible shift in Eddie’s behavior and his attitude towards you to the point where once the interview had concluded he offered to walk you down to the lobby himself,

“I could do with stretching my legs” he said with a shrug, shoving his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, “unless you don’t want me to go with you?” he held his hands up in a backing off motion

“No, I don’t mind” you offered him your own smile as you gathered up your things, “you can tell me what you like about the city”

“Dope!”

You suppressed a giggle at that. Eddie really just seemed like an over energetic teenager and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t endearing. To the rest of the world he was the enigmatic, charismatic lead guitarist of one of the biggest bands in the world and yet here he was so excited to walk you downstairs.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Well thanks again for walking with me” you said once you made it to the front doors of the hotel, “it was really nice to talk to you”

“Yeah? You really think so?”

“Sure. I was sort of expecting you all to be massive dicks all things considered but you seem really nice”

“I am really nice, why don’t you let me take you to dinner and I’ll show you how nice I am”

That floored you. You stood blinking at Eddie as if trying to find a joke in his features but you couldn’t find anything but sincerity,

“You really want to go to dinner with me?”

“Of course! You’re cute and I think we’d have a lot of fun. Plus you can show me around, all your favourite places” he beamed at you and honestly you couldn't think of a reason to say no,

"Alright, you're on"

"You won't regret this sweetheart. Promise"

"We'll see about that won't we?" with that you got into a waiting cab and headed back to the train station still reeling with what had just happened.

One of the most desirable men in the world had asked you to dinner and you'd said yes. Maybe today wasn't such a write off after all.

God bless the stomach flu.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #duchess writes #duchess.txt

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pb-dot · 4 months ago

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Film Friday: Dark City

On occasion I will come across a piece of media that would absolutely have me in its grasp if I watched it when I was younger. This isn't a value judgement on the movies as much as it is recognizing aesthetic that would be my entire shit if they got to me at a formative enough age. Today's movie is one of those, and as a bit of a mystery, I really recommend going into it blind. I also really recommend not watching the theatrical cut because it spoils the mystery in the opening minutes of the movie. If alternate cuts aren't available, as they often aren't in today's streaming market, you can correct for this by muting the movie until the screen is no longer dark. Trust me on this one. Anyway, let's get on with the movie.

John Murdoch is having a bit of a strange hangover, as he wakes up in a hotel room with a dead body and no memory of how he got himself into this situation. He has a wife, apparently, a job, and goals, he would like to escape the dreary overcast city and go to Shell Beach at one point. It is weird, he can't help but notice, how nobody seems to realize the sun never rises. Odder still is the machinations of The Strangers, a group of fellas in trench coats who run a city-wide experiment at night, shuffling around people's lives and the very geography of the city.

What unfolds is in practice a sci-fi-heavy Twilight Zone episode-type story. It is pretty fun to see how the almost-realistic if visually stylized ontological mystery peels away to the wider sci-fi thriller underneath. The movie does have answers to the questions it raises, and it is honestly one of the better examples of plots that do such a complete turn on its assumed genre.

It is also, I suspect, where the director lost the studio and promotion people. While I don't envy the job of trying to market a movie like Dark City to a late 90's cinema audience that hadn't had their minds sufficiently blown by The Matrix yet, there's no denying that New Line fucked up on this one.

It isn't just the opening of the movie, where Kiefer Sutherland's Dr. Schreber lays out the entire setup and every reveal for acts 1 and 2. Granted, as the Stranger's... let's call it unwilling collaborator, he would sit on all that knowledge... but you don't give that to the audience right away. Like what the actual fuck are you doing at that point? Why bother to HAVE a first and second act if you're just going to cliffnotes the entire thing minute one. Of course, it isn't helped that the tagline for the thing is also a real whopper of a spoiler as well.

It's easily one of the single most self-sabotaging moves in cinema history, and it's not like it'd be hard to make a compelling mystery out of it. "What lies at the heart of the Dark City," or perhaps "A man without a memory, lost in a city without light" or "jeez what's the deal with all those trench-coated cunts" or whatever. The movie is a really cleverly constructed set of mysteries, and just playing along with that a little bit could've made this movie quite iconic.

Now, this might be me going all "old man yells at cloud," but I think people forget how much the central mystery of what exactly The Matrix was. "The Matrix has you," promotional material would hint, "Free your mind." It was back in the day where you could, if you so chose, get real coy about what your movie actually was about, and if you presented a compelling mystery it could get butts in seats on that alone. I have always suspected this is what motivated the initial release of Alien in my country being titled "Den Åttende Passasjer" (lit: The Eight Passenger) was to try to build a bit of extra mystery.

All of this isn't to say that Dark City is this flawless piece of cinema. It is stylized so heavily it might come off a bit hokey to a modern audience. Some of it is in the acting, such as Kiefer Sutherland's intense unhinged brain doc, and the first few bits of Rufus Sewells protagonist feels a bit floundering and "Intro to Acting"-y. I will say that Sewell seems to hold himself admirably once there starts to be an actual plot for him to interact with, and Sutherland's semi-crazed intensity fits his role in that same plot way better than being "seemingly normal" ever did.

There is something deeply noir about this, about how the stylization of "regular" life in the city feels so alien because it is. The roles that are being played are superficial and inauthentic, and that's because they are. It's all an experiment by an alien observer, trying to suss out something or other about humanity through shuffling all the pieces around and seeing what it gets them. It is, in a way, a next level step from using stylistic sets and dialog to examine the human condition, or Science Fiction boiled down to its most basic component.

And what components indeed. We do get some of that not-always-great 90's CGI, but a lot of the movie's visuals is awesome sets and stylish lighting. Some of the sets, or so the story goes, was sold off to the production of The Matrix, and while they struck somewhat less of a striking figure in that movie, it is a neat little connection.

I feel I also must give a shoutout to the villains of this piece. We never learn too much about The Strangers and their deal, but there's enough intriguing hints and outright explanation to make them feel just real enough for the weird antagonist role they fill in the story. Mister Hand, played with a layer of subtle unhingedness even through all the Stranger business by the always kinda off Richard O'Brien, deserves particular note. Ian Richardson also gets a nod for going all out on the declarative voice as Mr. Book, the ostensible leader of the Strangers.

In a way, I wish that the movie was a little bit more cryptic about the Strangers and the strange goings on of Dark City. It is a compelling story, but some of the interactions between the Strangers and John feel like they're meant to come as more of a twist than they are. That could, of course be my storytelling dork brain that's a bit faster to pick up things than what is perhaps reasonable to expect.

It's also interesting to me that for a movie that deals with memory and identity, Dark City comes up kind of agnostic about what role memory plays in our personality. Like yes, Murdoch is driven by what fragments of his memories he possesses, but the memories that allow him to reach his full potential and ultimately defeat The Strangers are every piece as synthetic as the implanted memories he left behind. It isn't him returning to a "true" self as much as Kiefer Sutherland giving him memories of using his alien superpowers for decades as a desperate hail-mary. If this movie came out a few years later, I'd call it evocative of the Matrix, in that the fakeness of "reality" becomes a pivotal part of its unmaking

That said, the love between John and his wed-by-memory wife Emma, played by the always radiant Jennifer Connelly, seems to be real enough, and it is a quest for a more genuine existence than the dark drab pantomime that drives the plot. It does end up as a somewhat muted thing about human nature, granted, as John does come dangerously close to the old canard about Love Making Us Human. That said, I recognize that it isn't always about the destination. It is, I would say, very true to the beating heart of Sci-Fi that the movie tries to land the heady journey it has taken us to, however clumsy the attempt.

So that's Dark City for you. Strange, in the way few movies are allowed to be these days, ambitious, in the way good Sci-Fi is, gorgeous, in that consciously stylized way only movies can get. Give it a look if you happen to have ignored my advice wrt spoilers in the intro. It is, after all, only human to be curious.

#film friday #dark city #dark city 1998 #sci-fi #neo noir #cult film

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whositmcwhatsit · 2 years ago

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Summary: Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed.

Previous chapters

Chapter 5: Forgive me?

At the hotel, Chancy felt herself easing into the routine. The room was already set up by the advance crew. She stood beside Elvis while one of the Colonel’s people outlined the itinerary for that evening. Apparently, the Governor was coming to the show and wanted to meet him beforehand. There was also a couple of long-time members of a fan club who would be backstage.

Joe managed to usher the outsiders out by arriving with dinner courtesy of some all-night diner that the local police had recommended. Chancy picked at the burger- far too overcooked for her taste- as Elvis and several of the guys tucked in with gusto. Jerry was there, sitting in the armchair adjacent to the sofa, and she could feel the weight of his gaze. Whether it was fixed on her or Elvis, she wasn’t sure because she didn’t dare return it.

“You not hungry, baby?” Chancy shook her head and gave Elvis the same fake smile she had been hiding behind for most of the night. She offered him the rest of her burger and her fries. “Hell, I shouldn’t…” Even as he was speaking, he picked up her burger and took a large bite out of it.

The guys started to disperse as soon as everyone finished eating and Chancy helped Joe tidy up after them while Elvis used the bathroom.

“We got the appointment with the doctor at 4.15,” Joe said as they threw wrappers into the paper sack. “So I’ll be up to get you at about 3.30. How is it feeling now anyway?”

“Oh, just a little achy,” she shrugged. “Thanks for arranging the doctor and the x-ray and everything.”

“No problem.” His grin was always quick and bright. “It’s my job, the road manager needs a healthy crew.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Of course. You help keep the show on the road, right?”

“I don’t know how much I help with that.”

“You do, of course you do,” Joe replied smoothly, shaking his head in admonishment. The bathroom door opened and Elvis came out in his pyjamas and robe. “Anyway, I’ll see you at 3.30.”

“Call the room around 2.30,” Elvis said. Chancy fought a little irritation at the lack of a request, or a please.

“Yep, not a problem. You want me to let Ricky-“

“No, I need a break from that horny little bastard,” Elvis replied, rolling his eyes. “Cha-Cha’ll wake me up, won’t you, baby?”

The sudden responsibility filled her with horror, but they were both looking at her like it was nothing, so she could only shrug and nod.

“Okay, so I’ll call at two thirty, pick up at three thirty. Good night all!” They called their good nights, despite dawn not being far away, and suddenly the room seemed very still and quiet.

“You gonna get ready for bed?” Elvis asked softly at her shoulder when she couldn’t find anything else to fuss over. “It’s getting pretty late…”

“Oh, yeah. You don’t have to wait for me though, honey. You need to rest- I had that nap on the plane, remember.” His gaze weighed tons, she was barely able to keep her head upright from the pressure, and she could feel him prodding and poking at the borders of her mind, trying to force his way in.

“Go get changed,” he said quietly. It was clear from his voice that he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Someone had already unpacked all of their things in the bathroom. She didn’t know who or how. Her toothbrush was laid out next to Elvis’, her washbag and make up bag all arranged on the counter. It seemed so ordinary and domestic.

She glanced up into the mirror as she squeezed the toothpaste out onto her brush and, for a second, didn’t recognise the woman staring back. She looked haunted, hunted, ready to make a run for it.

It was a relief to wash off all the make-up. She didn’t tend to wear much during the day when she was home and the layers she was wearing now were reserved for special occasions and nights out. Her skin felt oily and yet somehow dried out, like it was begging for relief from the onslaught. A little like how she was feeling in general. Her hair, well, her hair was never very happy with her.

Finally, when she had no more excuses, she came out of the bathroom and into the muted light of the bedroom. Elvis was in bed waiting, and he threw back the corner of the blankets in invitation as she approached, a small smile on his face.

Before she had even settled herself onto the mattress, he was presenting her with a pill held between his finger and thumb.

“Here, baby, take this,” he instructed, like it was perfectly normal for him to administer her medication, part boyfriend, part pharmacist. He looked a little put out when she drew back slightly.

“What is it?”

“Just something to help you sleep. It won’t hurt you.”

“I’m okay, darlin’, I don’t think I need it.” She tried to smile like her refusal was nothing, but he was frowning intently at her.

“It’s like you said though, honey, you’ve already had a nap. This’ll get you good and sleepy straight away and then we’ll fall asleep together at the same time. That way I know you’re safe and sound with me where I can protect you.”

The idea of Elvis being able to protect himself let alone her when he was deep in his usual sleep coma was laughable, but she could tell that he wasn’t about to let it drop. Since the plane, he had been looking at her a little more intently as if he was aware of her growing ambivalence.

Feeling perturbed, but knowing that she would not be able to escape without causing another outburst, Chancy opened her mouth and let him place the pill onto her tongue.

“Good girl,” he murmured as she took a sip of the water he offered her. “You know I always know what’s best for you.” He followed up the water with his lips, pressing her back against the pillows. She sank pliantly, her good hand clasping his shoulder.

“I’m gonna take care of you so good that you’ll know that this is right,” he murmured. “By God, there ain’t nothing more right than this.” He moved down on his side so that his head was beside hers on her pillow and he slid his legs either side of one of hers, entangling them. “See how good we fit together?”

His words were already slurring and though she had no doubt he intended to be emphatic, his tone was actually more imploring. She laid her hand on the side of his face, stroking the contour of his cheekbone with her thumb as he smiled slightly at the touch.

“Shhh, baby,” she whispered. It was harder to talk than she remembered, her tongue felt thick. “Go to sleep for Cha-Cha.” She jolted slightly as he tightened his grip around her, squeezing her to him so close that she was no longer sure where either of them began or ended.

Fall 1954

Chancy crossed the lawn arm-in-arm with a girl from her English class. It was Friday and they were discussing their plans for the evening ahead. Barb inhaled, and Chancy already knew her friend was going to start in again about going on a double date with Vince’s cousin that night.

“C’mon, Chance, please? I’ll owe you a huge favour. Vince said that he’s a real catch with the girls back home. Think about it, a true-blue looker in uniform. And he flies a fighter jet, so you know he knows how to manoeuvre his hands.”

“You know I can’t!” Chancy giggled, as Barb yanked her arm up and down like she was trying to pump her into submission.

“Why not? You gotta sit at home and wait to see if one of your neighbours gets a phone call for you?” Barb tried to soften her caustic words with a smile even though they both knew they were often true.

“No, the boys are playing at a dance tonight, at a high school, and it’s not too far away.”

“So you’re going along?”

“Well…” In truth, Elvis hadn’t asked her.

“Chance-”

A loud, sharp whistle pierced the pleasant ambient hum of the afternoon and they, along with half the kids on the lawn, turned in search of the source. A grin spread across Chancy’s face as she registered the truck, even more when a long, lean figure leaned out the window, beckoning her.

“Oh well,” Barb sighed in resignation. “I guess I can try Jeanie. Hey, you want me to wait for you?”

Chancy shook her hand and waved her hand behind her as she hurriedly crossed the sidewalk towards the truck. She leant against the open window and revelled in the sight of her boyfriend grinning at her, his arm hanging from the steering wheel.

“Hey, pretty girl, wanna go for a ride?”

Chancy wondered if her stomach would ever stop flipping when she saw those hooded eyes and that shy smile. She was weak, a prisoner, but an enraptured one.

“Sorry, fella,” she replied, forcing her face to stop grinning mindlessly. “I don’t think my boyfriend’d like it.” He pouted and tilted his head.

“Aw, c’mon, baby, not even a teeny, widdle one? No-one’ll know. Your boyfriend the jealous type or somethin’?”

“Yup,” she returned, stepping back and swinging her linked hands slightly. “And he’s big too. Built like a gorilla, an’ covered in hair.”

“Heck, you better get in here ‘fore he catches us then!” He leant across and opened the door, barely waiting for her to step up before he was dragging her across the bench seat.

“Hmmm,” he murmured. His full, warm lips were a gift. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Chancy smiled and didn’t tell him that she had been doing the same; that she had probably failed her Math quiz because she had been thinking about how he had said goodnight to her outside her door the night before.

“Wait, what are you doing here?” she said instead, though her tone was warm. “Didn’t you get in enough trouble last week?”

Chancy had lost track of the times that Elvis’ boss had taken him aside and given him a stern talking to for veering off his delivery route to come see her, pick her up from school or for letting Chancy accompany him while he worked. Each time, Elvis would apologise and promise it would never happen again.

“I just made a delivery to a site near here,” he returned, looking overly innocent. “I swear it! And I thought I’d swing by and see if my sweet lil darlin’ needed a ride home. Gotta make sure she ain’t getting into another fellow’s car, don’t I.”

Chancy sighed and folded her arms, not wanting to go back through the horrible fight they had last week when Elvis had found out that a boy called Virgil from History class had dropped her at home because it was raining. He would have preferred her to be soaked through and then wrung out with pneumonia rather than accept a ride from another boy, even if she was not the only passenger in the car.

“Don’t pout,” he said, smushing his lips into her cheek and giving her lip-smacking kisses as he pulled her arms away from her waist. “I know I promised I weren’t gonna bring that up again.”

“Really, though, honey, you can’t keep getting into trouble over me. What if they fire you?”

“They won’t fire me, Cha-Cha! I do my work, I write out the paperwork good and I help out without complaining, even when I get all dirty and it damn near ruins my clothes. Besides, the way things are going with Scotty and Bill, we none of us’ll be needing our day jobs much longer.”

“You really think so?”

“I really knows so,” he returned, poking his tongue out at her playfully. “Big things are gonna happen, baby, I can feel it.”

Big things didn’t necessarily mean good things, Chancy reflected, and the foreboding cramp in her stomach seemed to agree with her. As much as she wanted Elvis to succeed, because she loved him desperately and knew how important his music was to him, she hated the thought of not being able to see him after work, and of those lonely weekends when he was away stretching into the weekdays.

Giving her one last noisy, wet kiss on the cheek, he started up the engine and pulled out into the traffic. When he was driving, she had more freedom to stare at him without him noticing, appreciating the way he watched the road so carefully, a little crease between his brows as he negotiated the traffic, his long fingers tapping rhythm to the music only he could hear.

“Hey, uh, you know, if we do come across anyone from work, you should probably duck down though, just in case,” he said, giving her a sideways look. She sighed and nodded.

Without looking, he reached across and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him like they were on a date rather than cruising around town in his work truck.

“I think the first thing I’m gonna do when I make it, after I pay off the bills and get Mama and Daddy a present, is buy you a ring,” he said casually, his eyebrow twitch belying his calm expression. “How’d you feel about diamonds, sweetheart?”

“I like diamonds,” she nodded, playing along. “They’re supposedly my birth stone.”

“Is that right? Huh. What’s mine?”

“Garnet,” she answered, far too quickly to pretend she hadn’t already looked it up. The smile that lit up his face as he noted that made her embarrassment almost worth it.

“Maybe we could find a ring that has both,” he said, shrugging and quickly extricating his arm so that he could shift gears. ”Me ‘n’ you together.”

“Forever,” she finished with a shy smile. He replaced his arm around her, squeezing her to him, and she gave him a playful nudge, not wanting his dirty overalls rubbing over her clothes. Though it was a hardship she’d endure for the warmth of him seeping through her skin.

“You gonna get all dressed up for me tonight, baby?” he asked, glancing at her as she rubbed at a dusty smudge on the shoulder of her blouse.

“For what?” she asked. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him, not when he hadn’t even asked her to come.

“For what,” he echoed in a high-pitched voice. “You forget about our show tonight?!”

“No, but I wasn’t invited so I didn’t realise I was going.”

“Cha-Cha, I don’t need to invite you!” he retorted. “You should want to be there!”

“I do, Elvis, but if you don’t invite me then I don’t know that you want me there!” She could hear her voice getting higher, turning her into a cartoon character that could be laughed at and dismissed, and her face flushed with anger. He didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the road ahead and his jaw set. All of a sudden, getting to watch him drive wasn’t as much as fun.

“Damn, there’s Mr Tipler, get down, Cha-Cha!” She was already dropping as he pressed his hand on the back of her neck, holding her head against his thigh. She adjusted her cheek against a crease in his pants and held her breath. A couple of minutes passed.

“Is he still there?” she asked, trying to turn her face against the heavy weight of his hand.

“Mmm hmm.” He sounded muffled and his hand flexed against her neck as she stretched it, trying to move her head along his leg to get more air. Another couple of minutes.

“Elvis, is he-” His hand was shaking. No, his whole body was shaking, convulsing almost with the force of his silent laughter. Mortification flooded through her as she realised that she was the source of his glee.

Rigid with fury, she slapped his hand away, swatting at herself in the process. She rose and slid back along the seat, her back smacking into the passenger door. Elvis reached out to her, but he was laughing too hard to apologise, or say much of anything at all, which infuriated her more.

“You tricked me!” she cried, hurt and embarrassed. “Now, why you gotta be so mean?”

“Baby, I- I was just playing!”

She smacked away his hand and he hastily pulled over, the truck bouncing against the kerb as he misjudged the distance, eyes barely watching what he was doing. A woman in a dark blue shirt-waist dress and matching cardigan jumped back from the edge of the sidewalk and gave them a dirty look.

Elvis grabbed Chancy by the waist as she opened the truck door and tried to scramble out.

“Baby, baby, no!” He was still laughing! “C’mon, I was just kidding around!”

Chancy slapped at his arm, finding that it helped make her feel a little better. When he grappled with her, pulling her back against him, she slapped a little harder. As he tried to turn her towards him, she raised her arm again and his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“No more, Cha-Cha,” he said firmly. Something in his eyes made her lower her hand, though she still didn’t yield to his grip.

“Look, I really thought I saw Mr Tipler,” he promised, his eyes shining with unspent mirth. “But then having your face in my lap like that-” A tinge of pink spread across his cheeks, emphasising the blue in his eyes. “-It just felt so good.” She inhaled sharply as he dove forward and pressed his face into the groove where her legs met beneath her skirt. She had no idea that people did such things to each other or why it felt so good. When he started shaking his head from side to side, her stomach clenched so hard she thought she might throw up or pass out.

“See how good it feels?” he asked shyly, his blush a deeper, dark red now and his hair falling from its very structured, carefully constructed style. She couldn’t look at him as she nodded brusquely.

“Forgive me?” he asked lightly, sitting up and cradling her cheek with his hand. “For all of it? I shoulda invited you, Cha-Cha. I thought I did, I swear.” Her face had already started to soften, it had no choice. “’Course I want my little baby out there in the audience looking up at me with her pretty little eyes-“ He pressed his lips softly against each of her brows. “And her pretty little nose…” He pecked the tip of her nose. “And her soft, pretty little mouth.”

Oh, his kisses. She felt him melt and become boneless in her arms as his lips kneaded hers, leading her by example as she sighed and succumbed to his wheedling. Every time she felt him sigh, she fell a little further in love with him, always dropping deeper into this never-ending hole.

A sharp tap on the window made them both start, teeth clashing, and they scrambled back from each other. A police officer was standing on the sidewalk, an ironic twist to his lips. He nodded his head slightly, telling them to move along. Elvis swallowed loudly and lifted his hand in acknowledgement as Chancy straightened her skirt over her legs and tried to smooth her hair back into its ponytail.

Back on the road, Elvis reached over and clasped her hand, squeezing it in a question. She squeezed it right back, because of course she forgave him, for the mean trick and the forgotten invitation. She forgave that, and everything that he would ever do, she imagined. That was the depth and breadth of her love for him. Didn’t mean that she wouldn’t make him suffer a little bit first though.

Outside her apartment building he left her after a brief, chaste kiss, mindful both of watchful eyes that would report straight back to her grandmother and that he should have been back from his delivery long before now. He told her that Scotty’s wife would be picking her up, which reassured her that he had apparently had it all planned, seemingly thinking that he had invited her.

A few hours later, she was waiting at the window when the glow of headlights lit up the flowery curtains she had made in Home Ec the year before. A second later, the horn blared. Chancy grimaced, knowing that Grandma would be complaining that all her friends in the building would think she was raising some loose woman the way that no one ever knocked on the door like respectful folk who were raised right.

The flinch in Grandma’s face as she skipped down the stairs in her tight new dress was all the confirmation she needed that she looked good. She clung to the bannister as she slipped on her heels, checking with her what time Mr Presley was picking her up. Usually, whenever she and Elvis would go out on a date, the Presleys would sweetly invite Grandma over for the evening to make sure she wasn’t lonely by herself. She got along well with Elvis’ grandmother and his mother, but had some reservations about his father which she expressed by saying nothing much about him at all.

Bobbie Moore smiled at her as she slid into the backseat and sweetly complimented her dress and hair, before going back to her conversation with Evelyn Black. The ladies were both older than her and had known each other longer. Chancy felt a little apart from them in the way that Elvis was a little apart from the band, except she didn’t have the benefit of being of any use to the women the way that Elvis, with his talent and front man good looks, was to the men.

“Oh,” Bobbie said over her shoulder during a lull in conversation, “Elvis told me to mention that he asked me to give you this ride last week. He said he set everything up but forgot to actually ask you to come to the show?”

“That’s what he says,” Chancy agreed with a closed-mouth smile.

“I’d be impressed he arranged anything,” Bobbie smiled. “He’s always going off at a hundred miles an hour, it’s a wonder he can get anything done. I swear Scotty has to wrangle him like a cross between a child and an excitable spaniel.”

The two women giggled in the front, but Chancy couldn’t quite muster a polite smile, it felt like a betrayal. Bobbie evidently noticed and quickly made a comment about how much he seemed to care for her.

The high school didn’t look much different from her own, same array of multi-paned windows across the front and pillars at the main entrance. Same yellowing lawn out front with worn tracks showing the most efficient footpaths to the external doors.

They melted into the throng of teenagers moving in waves towards the building, the air filled with the scent of aftershave, perfume and hormones. Chancy let the older women do the talking as they tried to find their men, feeling very young and strangely at home amongst the teenagers calling to their friends and talking loudly so that everyone could see how much fun they were having.

“Oh, thank God,” said Scotty when he caught sight of them coming down the corridor they had been directed to. “Tell me you brought the extra strings?” Bobbie rolled her eyes at the other women and fished a brown paper bag out of her purse.

“How’d you break a string before you even go on?” she asked, following him to the empty classroom they had been given as a dressing room.

“Not me,” Scotty muttered.

Chancy’s eyes fell on Elvis pacing at the back of the room, his back to them as he stared out the blackened windows at the lawn below. He glanced down at the floor, ran his hand down the back of his neck and then strode off in another direction for a few steps, before spinning and returning. It made Chancy’s blood bubble in sympathy at the anxiety he was exuding.

“Hi,” she murmured, weaving between the desks. He glanced up, eyes wide and mouth open in a way that made her heart clench, before smiling faintly.

“Hi.” He seemed paralysed in his loop and it wasn’t until she reached his side that he grabbed hold of her like she was his life preserver.

“You break a string?” she asked gently, trying to keep his attention on the room and not the swathes of people moving closer outside.

“Broke three. My fingers were shakin’ so bad I had to play that much harder to make a noise and, well, you see how that went.” She flattened his hand between hers, trying to press her faith in his ability into him, soothe him, but he couldn’t accept it. After a couple of seconds, he had to be on the move again too.

“The atmosphere is really good out there,” she told him. “They seem like a good crowd, they’re gonna love you.”

“Don’t-” He winced and stopped. “I got this pain up in my throat, Cha-Cha. What if I get up there and my voice is all but gone? I keep having that same dream over and over again, that I open my mouth and nothing comes out and everyone starts yellin’ and hollerin’. You know how sometimes some of my dreams come true and they happen-”

“It ain’t gonna happen,” she told him.

“But how d’you know?”

“Because I keep having a dream too. That I’m sitting in the audience at a show and we’re in some enormous auditorium, bigger than anything in Memphis, and you are on stage singing. Everyone in the audience is just crazy about you, cheering and clapping like you’re Frank Sinatra and Perry Como combined. And there’s little ole me sitting at the back, thinking about how I used to know you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he pulled her into his side to kiss her temple. She could see his skin glistening with sweat already and feel his body trembling.

“What do you think of the suit? It’s new.” She eyed the black jacket with pink lapels and cuffs and the baggy, pleated black pants with a pink stripe at the sides. Even his shoes had a small pink buckle.

“It’s real flashy,” she smiled. “It looks good on you.”

“Yeah, well,” he ducked his head, shaking his legs to adjust his pants leg, “I gotta wear something that gets their attention, you know. Especially after they hear me.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm, trying to hold him still.

“You look real handsome,” she said emphatically, her cheeks throbbing. “I’m gonna have to keep an eye on all those girls.”

They turned as Scotty called over. Even without looking at him, Chancy felt the electricity fizzling through Elvis, it made her own skin tingle. She squeezed his bicep hastily before rushing to join Bobbie and Evelyn as they tried to find their way through the labyrinthine halls to the school auditorium.

The auditorium had been covered in streamers and glittery decorations. There was a harvest theme with straw bales for seating and a big, painted, slightly blue moon that twinkled in the stage lighting. She wondered if that was how the boys had been booked, because of their name, and their record ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ so high in the country charts. She knew how those girls on the committees loved a theme.

Some high school kids who thought they were The Crewcuts were just leaving the stage after a mediocre cover of ‘Earth Angel’ and there was polite applause rippling about the space. Chancy clutched her hands together, imagining Elvis in the wings vibrating with adrenaline.

A young man, obviously popular from the catcalls and cheers from the audience, strode up to the microphone to introduce the group, calling them a ‘big up and coming act from the city that’s been driving the kids crazy’. There was a healthy level of applause and cheering as Elvis bounded out in his usual loose-limbed way, Scotty and Bill following. For a second, Elvis stood poised behind the microphone, looking up at the ceiling. Chancy glanced up, wondering what had caught his eye, but there was nothing but ceiling tiles.

“Well, have you heard the news, there’s good rockin’ tonight!”

It echoed around the hall like a siren. Chancy watched the looks on the faces of the kids as they started, they squinted, they frowned at the young man on the stage. There was a kind of pulse that was emanating from the stage and you could clearly see it rippling through the kids, who quickly began drifting closer, packing themselves together like they were drawn together by magnets.

By the time they got to Scotty’s first solo, some of the girls had begun to giggle and cry out, clutching at each other as if they couldn’t quite understand what was happening to them. The applause at the end was stronger and accompanied by a thick hum of murmuring. Chancy surveyed them with a small smile, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

With ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ it was the same thing all over again, since this song sounded so country that it threw the kids that thought they understood what they were watching. The girls got bolder and Chancy noted, ice beneath her skin, Elvis’ eyes darting down to the foot of the stage where they were congregating, his lip lifting into a gleeful sneer. But then she saw him as they did, this dangerous rockabilly rebel standing astride the stage above their heads, glistening like a god, and deigning to notice them. That look of adoration they were giving him, that unfocused want that was rising like steam from them, it just made him more beautiful, more otherworldly. They didn’t get to have him, because he was hers.

It was like a feedback loop, the more Elvis sang, crooned, and at one point growled, the more the girls shrieked and giggled. The more his legs shook and his baggy pants fluttered about his groin, the more the crowd bounced. It was always more, more, more. Chancy had seen it first, that vein of magic in him, and she felt vindicated now watching the realisation dawn in so many other eyes.

“Every time we see them it’s always a little wilder,” Bobbie remarked, gaze still on the stage. She definitely wasn’t looking at him like he was a cross between a child and an excitable spaniel now.

Chancy hesitated and then made up her mind, skipping towards the stage and ensconcing herself in the back of the close knit throng. She put her fingers to her lips and gave a whistle, joining in and adding to the chorus of screams that made Elvis’ smile spread wider as he bounced joyfully to the rhythm.

When he whirled off stage after the fourth number, half of the audience emptied out too. Chancy shot a look of astonishment at the other two, and they exchanged a glance before hurriedly following the tide.

Out in the parking lot, they found Bill and Scotty packing up while Elvis was held fast at the side of the car by a crowd of girls. He was scribbling autographs, hastily trying to keep up with demand and beaming. Some of the girls had little brownie cameras and Chancy snorted when she watched his smile drop into a sullen scowl as soon as they started to pose, doing his best James Dean impression.

Eventually, she drifted over to Scotty and Bill and their wives where they all muttered about who was going to be the one to break up the communion so that they could go and get something to eat.

After a while, Bill told the girls to head off to the diner because he was going to round up their errant singer and meet them there. As she settled herself in the back seat, Chancy watched Bill sail into the throng, a grin on his face as he reached over and mussed up Elvis’ hair. She winced and was glad that she wasn’t going to be around to see the outcome of that.

At the all-night diner back in Memphis, Chancy had already eaten a plate of fries by the time the bell tinkled and the boys entered in a bubble of loud talking and recklessly flailing limbs. Elvis’ hair was now falling over his face and he had Bill in a headlock, while Scotty was smiling faintly with that look in his face that he sometimes got, like he’d just like five minutes of peace and quiet away from the zoo.

“Where’s my food, woman?” Elvis demanded in a deep voice as he stared at her empty plate. Standing behind her, he grabbed at the front of her throat with his hands in a pincer. “Why, you good for nothin’-” She reached back and smacked the side of his thigh to get him to behave.

Bobbie rose with a sigh to go over to the counter to order more food, leaving the chair next to her empty. Elvis slid into it before she had even fully risen, goosing her a little. Chancy glared at him, even as he shrugged innocently, and Scotty raised unimpressed eyebrows. Forcefully ignoring their annoyance, he sat, his leg jiggling outrageously and making the table vibrate so hard that the salt and pepper shakers clinked against the napkin dispenser.

Chancy reached over and tried to rearrange his sweat soaked hair, but he batted away her assistance, pulling a comb from his shirt pocket and miraculously finding a shiny surface to use as a mirror like he had a built-in radar.

Once he was satisfied, he put away the comb and grabbed her hand off the table, examining her nails and fingers like he was about to be tested on them.

“See something interesting?” she asked.

“It’s just I’m so damned hungry,” he mumbled. “And they look so delicious…” He yanked them towards his mouth and she shrieked, writhing in his grip. He managed to get a sharp nip at the knuckle of her middle finger before she wrenched herself away.

“Behave yourself!” she hissed, but unable to stop grinning as she looked over to the counter.

“Baby, I can’t help it, I’m all keyed up. I wanna… I- Well, I don’t know what I wanna do, but whatever it is, I wanna do it bad!” His eyebrows quirked as his overly wide eyes zeroed in on her neck and he dove forward just as Bobbie returned with food.

Somehow, he managed to swerve at the last minute and he fell upon his burger and fries like a starving man. Bill, who was only just behind Elvis in the amount of mischievous energy he was exuding, tried reaching over to grab one of Elvis’ fries and got himself an elbow in the groin for his trouble.

The food settled them a little and they were able to analyse and reflect on the show as Chancy and the wives gave feedback, talking about what they saw in the crowd, the reactions of the girls and what was being said about them in the restrooms.

“We need to get some more photos, we’re nearly out,” Scotty told the other two men. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have more copies of our record. I had two people tell me that they couldn’t get it from the record store.”

“Goddamn it,” Elvis muttered, shoving fries sideways into his mouth. “What we gotta do, pay these chumps to put our damn record in their stores? Isn’t this why Sam’s always travelling around, trying to talk these… these fools into using their brains.” Chancy slid her hand onto his thigh and rubbed it comfortingly beneath the table.

“They don’t know what to do with it,” Bill shrugged. “It’s too hot and original for their tiny little minds to comprehend.

“Sam’s focusing on the next one,” Scotty reminded them. “We’re only as good as our latest record and he’s been all over the South pushing it with all his contacts.”

“Fat lot of good that does if no one can buy it,” Elvis snapped. He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the sound of himself wailing out, ‘Well, that’s all right, mama…” They turned to the jukebox where Bill gave them a ‘ta da’ gesture and a grin.

“You know, that’s him,” Bill told the disinterested cook behind the counter, who eyed them with yellowing, cloudy eyes. “Don’t s’pose we can pay our bill with an autographed picture? Up and coming star right here, I heard it on good authority from a high school kid all dressed up in his daddy’s suit tonight.”

Elvis threw one of Scotty’s fries at him and ducked down, unable to disguise how his face and neck had coloured up. He leant in, nudging Chancy’s shoulder, trying to hide in the crook of her neck.

After their food, they split up, Scotty, Bill and their wives took Bobbie’s car, while Elvis and Chancy were in the Lincoln. She prayed they would make it back, her dress was not cut for pushing cars.

Elvis was still twitchy, but he had quietened down, back to being regularly fidgety and nervous rather than like he was about to take off into outer space. He tapped his fingers along with the radio, even when the reception cut out and it was just static. Chancy dozed next to him, starting every time he swatted her thigh to wake her up.

When they reached the door of her apartment, Chancy hesitated. Despite how late it was, she didn’t feel it was time to say goodnight. She had barely had him to herself for more than a minute all night.

“You know,” she began, watching him touch the brass numbers on her door, scuff his shoe against the worn tile and shake his leg slightly, all the while tap tapping away on his thigh with his fingertips.

She tried again: “You know, Grandma is probably fast asleep by now. If we’re quiet…” His eyes snapped to hers and she would have betrayed her grandmother’s trust a thousand times over for the wave of joy that passed through her body.

“Yeah, I-I-I should probably check and make sure everything is on the up and up for you ladies. I mean, you can’t be too careful, could be monsters under your bed, spiders in your bathtub... What kind of man would I be if I let my woman face all these dangers alone?”

“You coulda just said yes, you know,” she returned, shaking her head. He nuzzled her in answer, forcing her to try not to squeal as she oh-so-carefully unlocked the door.

Clutching each other’s hand like nervous burglars, they crept through the tiny kitchen and into the narrow hall. Chancy paused at her grandmother’s door, but heard nothing.

It felt borderline criminal closing her own door, hiding them from sight. Whenever Elvis visited, ‘Grammy’ as he called her, insisted on being able to see them at all times.

“He’s a nice boy,” she had told Chancy after she recovered from the flashy clothes and the truck driver’s haircut. “A real nice, polite boy, but there’s something else about him, some touch of mischief that I just wanna keep my eye on.”

Eyes adjusting to the moonlit shadows, Chancy watched him cautiously approach her bed and pick up the framed photo on her nightstand. Not the one of him that Mr Neal had arranged to be done for publicity and that Elvis had given her a copy of with a secret message scrawled on the back. No, he picked up the blurry, worn picture of a man in a white suit with his arms around a dark-haired, shapely woman. Their faces were almost as featureless and white as milk with wear and Chancy’s faded memories could no longer fill in the blanks.

Elvis replaced the frame reverently and then turned back to her. The moonlight glowed in his eyes and smile. He bent down and checked under her bed for monsters.

“All clear!” he informed her in an exaggerated whisper. Then his eye caught something else that he reached down and swiped up. Chancy’s cheeks flushed.

Grandma was old fashioned and thought that music and movies were sent by the devil to distract impressionable minds from the Lord. She allowed Chancy to go to the movie theatre on dates and to own a few records, but there was strict accounting going on, weighing the devil’s distraction against church and bible study.

“What you got this hidden down here for?” Elvis asked, looking confused. He flicked through the movie magazine as if looking for clues, but returned to the front cover where Eddie Fisher was posing politely with a telephone as if he had just been interrupted taking a call. “Eddie Fisher?!” He raised an eyebrow like he was teasing her, but he wasn’t smiling. She rushed over and tried to snatch the magazine from his unyielding hands.

“Grandma don’t like me having movie magazines,” she whispered in a rush. “Elvis, give it back!”

“How long has this thing with Fisher been going on, huh? Does Debbie know?”

“Ha, ha.” Elvis was glaring at the picture, studying it like he was sizing up his competition. “Really now, I am not gaga over Eddie Fisher. The only boy I have eyes for is a much better singer, and dreamier too.”

“Oh god, who now?! Wait, you are talking about me, right?”

She shoved him as he grinned smugly, but he grabbed her hands and pulled her down with him onto the bed. They were entwined and kissing as easily and as quickly as gravity.

Elvis’ body, its hard planes and soft curves, still felt like foreign territory no matter how many times and how many ways she ran her hands over it. Even his dark blue eyes, when they devoured her with that fierce hunger, sometimes seemed like they belonged to a stranger. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. When he told her, as he did over and over, that he loved her, she understood that he meant it and still didn’t believe him at all.

Straddling his lap as she knelt on the bed, she shifted her weight to get leverage and then ground down onto him, eliciting that helpless boyish moan from him that always got her in the gut.

Too late, she pushed her palm against his mouth, breathlessly whispering for him to be quiet. He groaned a hot, muffled protest as she rolled her hips again and she could feel him, hard and eager beneath the pleats of his pants. He grabbed her hand in his, pulling it away from his mouth as he pressed his soft lips into her palm.

“Wait, baby, wait. We gotta stop… We should stop,” he whispered. He was right of course, but it didn’t mean that she wanted to hear him or listen. She kneaded her lips against the flickering of his pulse in his throat, smelling the faint remnants of his cologne, soap and the haze of his Vaseline hair oil. It was a heady mix of ‘Elvis’, the best smell in the world.

“Hey!” he snapped, hoarse but still quiet. “You ain’t being fair! You’ll get me all heated and worked up and then you’ll tell me to stop. And one day I ain’t gonna be able to stop!”

Chancy shivered and wished, through clenched teeth, that today would be that day. Her grandmother was wrong, that glint of mischief that she saw in Elvis was just a tiny reflection of what radiated from Chancy herself.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, forcing herself to stay still in his lap, fighting the urge to swivel her hips and press into him. “Forgive me?” He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth, and squashed her cheeks between his palms.

“You drive me crazy, you cruel baby, but I forgive you. I’ll always forgive ya.”

“Not always,” she refuted. “How about if I went off with another boy?” He was quiet for a moment and, even more unnerving, still.

“No, you’re right,” he said in a small, uncomfortable voice. “God, why’d you even put that in my head?”

Chancy knew why, because she always needed to push the limits, see how far love and acceptance would stretch until they snapped, and they always snapped.

“I don’t know, it was stupid. And it’ll never happen.” She clasped her fingers together at the back of his neck and turned his head so that they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “I would never do that, because I love you more than anything else in the world.” His small smile made his cheekbones curve in a delicious way.

“More than Eddie Fisher?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Eddie who?”

“Eddie who better be right!” He squeezed the back of her neck as he kissed her with a dramatic, almost aggressive flourish, and then shoved her sideways off his lap and onto the bed. It creaked so loud that it should have woken up half the building, and they froze, staring at each other with wide eyes.

They waited a full, endless minute for sounds of movement or a light being turned on in the hall. When it didn’t come, they dissolved, giggling as they curled up together on the mattress.

At first, Elvis spooned her, the cradle of his hips fitting perfectly against the curve of her backside and his arm pillowing her neck. She could feel the bulge of him poking her in her butt cheek and it took all her willpower not to push back. After he had complained in a whisper about her hair tickling his nose, and had ground his groin apparently involuntarily against her, he huffed out a soft ‘Goddamnit’ and almost threw himself onto his other side, his back to her. She only had a second to miss the warmth before he was reaching back and tugging her arm, pulling her against him.

“You have to leave before Grandma wakes up,” she said directly into his ear, grinning as he shuddered and pressed in her hand that he was holding to his chest. “Elvis, y’hear? I mean it.”

“I hear ya, I hear ya.” She forced herself to relax, listening to his breathing as she simultaneously felt it against her hand. His heart was a steady, reassuring thump.

After a while, she pressed a little closer to him and whispered:

“Imagine being able to sleep like this every night.” Her heart felt swollen and tight with love for him, so much so that just thinking of forever made her eyes sting with hopeful tears. “Elvis?” She tried to loosen her grip on him in order to prop herself up, but he wouldn’t release her, just murmured and squeezed tighter.

Just imagine, forever.

Chancy woke in a start, feeling the panic before she even came to. Morning. Grandma. Elvis!

She tried to sit up, but the hands encircling her waist were determined, and all their focus was on holding her in place. She was so busy trying to free herself that she didn’t notice what else was going on until a warm, throaty moan tickled her ear. She froze.

Elvis was like a wall of heat behind her, making her clothes damp and creased as he pressed and rubbed against her. Her stomach clenched and roiled with panic and desire and she tilted her hips, catching his groin as he rolled into her.

“Baby, you awake?” he whispered hoarsely, adjusting his grip on her, grabbing at her hipbone so tightly that she knew it would leave bruises.

“What time is it?” she mumbled, squinting at the curtains, trying to determine whether the halo around them came from the moon or the sun.

“I-I don’t know. God, baby, I-I need you so bad. Can- can I?”

Chancy was not certain what he was asking, but just his tone made her skin ripple with goosebumps. She turned in his arms and found that looking up into his face was a revelation. His cheeks were deep pink and his lips looked swollen and red, hanging open as he stared at her; thick lashes drooping over his half-open eyes. She had never seen him with messy hair, he spent so long fussing over it, combing it if even one tendril fell out of place, but now it fell over his forehead and stuck up in spikes at the side and he didn’t seem to care.

Chancy gasped as he ducked down and kissed her, fiercely mashing his lips against hers. She didn’t recognise this boy, this shaking, dishevelled man writhing in her bed and wrinkling her sheets. His long-fingered hand slid down her blouse, unfastening the tiny buttons with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. He pulled her against him, the button on his shirt pocket scraping her nipple even through her cotton bra, but his hands didn’t stay at her back for long, scrambling down to fuss over the folds of her skirt, tugging it up.

“Elvis, honey, wait!” she gasped when he finally released her mouth to catch his own breath. “We can’t, we-“

“We can,” he murmured, unravelling the material wrapped around her legs. “Baby, we should. I-I-It’s time, it’s time.” She was trying to push down her skirt even as he was lifting it, tangling his legs with hers.

“You said we should wait,” she pleaded, quickly losing her fighting spirit as he nuzzled and breathed hot and heavy against her neck. “For when we’re married.”

“We’re gonna be together forever,” he insisted. “We already know it.” She giggled; his words were slurred and mumbled like he couldn’t quite think straight and his addled mind was pouring out syllables, hoping some of them would be useful.

It made her feel powerful to have brought him to this level of mindlessness. No one else, not the girls that screamed at the foot of the stage, not the beautiful singers that sometimes toured with him, or the experienced girls with their heavy make-up and tight, revealing clothing that somehow made it backstage and always knew which motel he was staying in. No, no one else, just Chancy.

“Okay,” she whispered, cupping his face. “Okay.” He stared at her intently, looking almost lost, before he seemed to register what she had said and gave a little nod.

In one fluid movement, he was on top of her, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. The bed creaked ominously and Chancy froze, not least because Elvis was leaning on her hair.

“Ow, Elvis, you’re-”

“What? Oh, sorry.” He lifted his hand, not realising the hand he now had all his weight on was also on top of her hair.

“Oh my- Oh God, Elvis, my hair!” He hastily drew back onto his knees, straddling her and looking sheepish.

Realising that it was all going terrible wrong, she stared back at him, flooded with disappointment and consternation. There was a beat before they both broke, sniggering and blushing at their awkwardness.

“Oh damn,” he grinned bashfully into his palm, running his tongue over his teeth. “Great job, Elvis. Real smooth.”

Chancy ran her hand up his thigh, her fingers trembling over the taut muscle.

“Honey, we could still-“ she began, even as he shook his head.

“No, no, you were right what you said, baby, we should wait. It’ll be better if we wait. Special.”

“Maybe I’ll get my haircut for the wedding,” she mused dryly, trying not to focus on the disappointment settling in her stomach.

“Don’t you dare!” He leaned forward, practically on all fours over her, and wrapped her dark hair around his finger. “I show up at the church and don’t see all these curls, I’m outta there!”

“You think I won’t have someone there ready to lock the door as soon as you show up?” she teased, reaching up to smooth back the hair above his ear.

“Hmm, cruel woman,” he murmured, eyes dropping to her lips and telegraphing his thoughts. “You think you don’t already have me locked up? I- I can’t think of nothing else but you, baby.”

“Aw, that sounds just awful,” she smirked, stretching up to catch his lips. “Forgive me?”

“Always,” he mumbled into her mouth.

Spring 1973

The phone was ringing. Chancy threw out a hand to grab at the receiver, but her hand only waved about in the air because she wasn’t in her own bed. She opened her eyes, waiting for her vision to unblur. The phone stopped ringing and immediately began again.

“Hello?”

“Thank Christ! I was beginning to wonder if you were alive!”

“Joe?”

“Yeah! Two thirty wake-up call, remember? Least it was fifteen minutes ago.”

“Sorry, Elvis gave me a pill.” She wiped her hand down her face; it felt numb, foreign.

“Okay. Get up.”

“What?”

“You need to get out of bed. If you don’t, you’ll go straight back to sleep the minute you hang up.”

She lifted the receiver from her ear and peered into it as if Joe would be able to discern that she was not exactly in a situation when she could leap out of bed. Elvis’ head was tucked under her chin and his arms were wrapped around her. Even her feet were entangled with his legs.

“Uh, okay.” Then she was glad that he was not able to see through the receiver, because she had to slither and writhe to free herself, tumbling onto the floor with zero grace. “I’m out of bed.”

“Good. I’ll be there to get you in forty-five minutes.”

“Wait, what do I do about Elvis?”

“How d’you mean?”

“How do I wake him up?”

“Hit him. Hard, but don’t leave a mark, ‘specially not on the face.”

“Helpful, thanks,” she said to the dial tone.

Chancy started off light, shaking him, but it barely registered. So, then she patted him, getting progressively harder until she was hitting his shoulder with a closed fist.

“Oh, Lord,” she murmured. The clock now said two fifty-five and she hadn’t even started dressing. She tapped his cheek and, finally, his face flickered. Emboldened, she did it again, but there was no reaction this time. Out of options, she slapped him with her fingers, hard enough to make a noise. His face creased up and he squinted at her through dark, slitted eyes.

“Why are you hitting me?” he asked, or at least that was the vague sound that came out with some half-enunciated words.

“Oh, wakey wakey!” she trilled. “Time to wake up, sweetheart!”

He let his hand drop onto his face and grunted as he tried to pull himself up into a seated position, managing about halfway. Chancy waited anxiously to make sure the red mark on his cheek would fade away.

By three fifteen, she was dressed and washed, though not exactly looking her glamorous best. She had pulled her hair into a loose bun and just darkened her eyes to try and look more awake. It wasn’t like hospitals had a dress code.

“You slapped me round my face!” Elvis said accusingly as she emerged from the bathroom. He was still sitting up in bed, though he seemed closer to consciousness than not.

“No, you must have been dreaming,” she replied quickly. The mark was gone now and she had a new appreciation for Ricky’s skills.

“That ain’t something I’d dream about,” he returned, throwing back the covers. He eased himself up carefully and she paused, wondering if she should go to his side to make sure he didn’t lose his balance or stumble. She tried to seem casual as he fumbled and felt his way to the bathroom door.

“Um, baby? Joe’ll be here in a bit. You want me to get you anything before I go?”

“Go? I’m coming with you,” he replied, frowning at her as though she was speaking a different language.

Chancy’s reaction to that was complicated. She was touched that he wanted to, but knew there was no way that he would be ready to leave the room in fifteen minutes. Then there was the logistics of it. How could Elvis Presley walk into a hospital in the middle of nowhere and not cause chaos and mayhem? What seemed like a simple trip to the doctor had suddenly turned into a production.

“That’s really sweet, honey, but you don’t have to do that,” she said, crossing the room to him. His intense gaze followed her, so that by the time she was in front of him, she was feeling a little warm.

“It ain’t a negotiation,” he returned, his mouth stumbling over the syllables. “You ain‘t going without me.”

Joe knocked at exactly three thirty, but seemed completely unsurprised and unperturbed when she said that they had to wait for Elvis.

“I always allow a cushion of at least twenty minutes when I give him a time,” he revealed with a grin.

“You knew he was coming?” Chancy asked.

“Sure. I think it’s pretty obvious by now that he doesn’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

Chancy’s stomach clenched with apprehension at that observation. It gave her too little power and too much responsibility. She was an idiot in relationships, and she bumped into people’s feelings blindly and repeatedly. Nowadays, she liked her freedom too much and suffocated under the expectations of others. She was too much like her father, who had broken so many hearts without even knowing. Now here she was being presented with the most fragile heart of all. No, not presented, tossed it without warning, and she knew her butter fingers were going to fumble it no matter how carefully she tried to cradle it.

They were exactly twenty minutes behind schedule when Elvis emerged from the bathroom clad in black, the jacket of his karate gi showing underneath his coat, and wearing dark tinted sunglasses. While she was dressed to do a chore, he looked like he was prepared to go on TV, which was the way he always looked when he left the confines of his room. She had long ago stopped musing on how irritating and time-consuming that must be for him, to know that he always had to look his best even if he was just going to a doctor’s appointment.

“Morning, Boss, how you doing?” Joe asked, rising to open the door for them as Elvis came to Chancy’s side.

“Well, my day started with being belted round the face, so I’m hopin’ it’ll improve,” he returned, shooting Chancy a sideways look. He seemed more confused and amused than annoyed, but Chancy could still feel her cheeks heating.

“I still say you dreamed that,” she said.

“And I still say you’re full of shit,” he returned, sliding his fingers between hers. He hissed softly, swearing under his breath.

“What is it?” He grimaced and lifted their clasped hands so that she could see the back of his. His knuckles were grazed and split, and the skin around them was swollen dark from where he had been punching the wall the night before. “Oh, baby.”

She tried to release his hand, but his fingers tightened around hers, so she raised their hands to her lips and pressed them lightly against the sore area.

“Well, at least we’re heading to the right place!” Joe observed. She wondered if he was really as unflappable as he made out and, if so, what kind of craziness had he seen to make him so.

It felt a little like heading for a show. They rode the service elevator down to the kitchens and made their way out of the rear entrance of the hotel where a car was waiting for them with a driver and Red sitting in the passenger seat. Two or three people were waiting at the entrance of the car park and, as they emerged from the building, Chancy heard them yelling:

“He’s here! He’s here!”

“No, he ain’t,” Elvis mumbled under his breath, before raising a hand and waving to them as they got into the car.

“What would you do,” Chancy asked out of curiosity, “if you went somewhere and no one blinked an eye like you were just a regular person?”

“It happens,” he returned, a defensive edge to his voice like he thought she was making fun of him somehow. “It’s not like I expect it all the time.”

“The worst times are when we think it’s okay, but then one person notices he’s there and raises the alarm,” Red interjected, half turned in his seat. “Happened once when we went to a karate tournament. Whispers started going round, people started getting out of their seats to ask for autographs and what have you. And I’m sitting there sweating bullets thinking I gotta keep him safe in a place filled with fucking karate masters.”

“Remember that theatre in Florida when we were there shooting that movie?” Joe put in. “We went to see a show one night and during the intermission, we got swarmed and the fire marshal had to shut the whole place down. Called it a health and safety hazard.”

“The point is I don’t go out looking for it,” Elvis insisted to her, as if they hadn’t spoken. “It’s not like I need it for my ego or anything like that.”

“Okay,” she murmured softly, nodding to show that she understood, because he seemed very intent on making that clear to her.

“Hey, remember when we thought we got away with it in Hawaii?” Red laughed, breaking the slightly awkward silence. “Went to a restaurant and no one blinked an eye. Order our food, nothing. Ate and hung out without a murmur. Then, when we got up to leave the entire restaurant damn near gave us a standing ovation. That was weird as shit!”

“Have you guys ever asked someone for their autograph or got starstruck meeting someone?” she asked the other two men, since Elvis was staring out of the window and chewing on his thumbnail, not exactly inviting conversation. She wondered if she had prodded a sore spot with her question and if so, how to soothe his hurt feelings.

“Don’t know about starstruck… You start to realise pretty quickly that famous people are pretty much just people,” Joe mused.

“Some can be complete asses, right, E?” Red remarked. “Remember Brando?” Elvis blinked and pulled a face like he smelt something disgusting.

“Aw, don’t remind me about that sonovabitch. Broke my damn heart.” He looked down at her, his eyes warm and intimate again, reassuring her. “You remember how much I dug that cat- We must have seen his movies fifty times a piece. Knew all the lines.”

“’Well, what d’ya do? I mean, do you just ride around or do you go on some sort of picnic or something?’” Chancy recited in a breathy voice, making her eyes wide. His smile grew and he poked his tongue between his teeth.

“’A picnic? Man, you are too square…’” He dipped down, pressing his nose to hers. “Anyway, we met him one time. I think in 1958?” He raised an eyebrow at Joe, who nodded in confirmation. “And he was just the rudest, most condescending motherfucker. Acting like he was hot shit and we were hillbilly hicks ruining his day. I swore to myself I weren’t ever gonna be like that.”

“Well, who was the nicest star you ever met?”

“Tom Jones was pretty friendly right from the off,” Red reflected.

“Sammy Davis Jr is a cool guy,” Joe shrugged. She looked to Elvis, but he shrugged and demurred, saying most people were okay. There was something about the offhand way he said it that let her know there was something he wasn’t saying.

“You cannot think of one non-beautiful non-female celebrity right now, can you,” she teased. He licked his lips sheepishly and grinned.

“My mind went blank,” he admitted, running his tongue over his teeth. “I panicked!”

“You goof! Okay, including the beautiful ladies, who was the nicest?”

“This ain’t a trick, is it? Already been slapped once today…”

“Don’t do it, man,” Red murmured under his breath. She raised an eyebrow and faked a scowl.

“Well,” he sighed as he arched his back and adjusted his belt buckle, “Sophia Loren was real sweet and Ann-Margret’s a darling; Nancy Sinatra… Oh! Cary Grant! He’s a nice guy.”

“Congratulations, you thought of one man,” she laughed. He nuzzled into the side of her head as if testing her word, checking she wasn’t mad. She rubbed his thigh in answer.

The car took a sharp right turn down a wide alleyway and pulled up behind a store that was most certainly not a hospital.

“What’s going on? You taking me to the vet instead?” she quipped, confused by Elvis’ little smirk as they all climbed out.

“I just gotta make a quick stop,” he replied, reaching for her hand again.

Red banged on the worn security door and a small window opened, before the door was thrown open. A small, slight, older man in a suit beamed at them, ushering them into the dark interior.

When Chancy’s eyes adjusted, she registered that they were in a jewellery store. An older woman in what looked like her best dress was standing by the register also beaming like she had won an award, which all store owners must have felt whenever Elvis Presley walked in.

“Hello, Mr Presley, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to our store,” the man said, sounding adorably nervous as he shook Elvis’ hand. “My name’s Len and this is my wife Phyliss.”

“It’s good to be here, sir,” Elvis replied, head on a swivel. “You got some fine pieces.” He stepped back to take Phyllis’ hand and give her a peck on the cheek. “Hi, dear. We can’t stay long, because we got an appointment, but I think I’ll be back here next time we’re out this way.”

Len nodded and gestured to the counter where he had laid out a black velvet cover on top of which lay a dazzling selection of gold and sparkling diamonds. Elvis stepped up, squinting as he removed his sunglasses, his fingers immediately reaching to touch.

“Cha-Cha, c’mere, baby,” he murmured. Holding out a hand without looking. “What d’you think? Anything that catches your eye?”

“Of course, it’s all really pretty,” she nodded, nonplussed.

“Okay, looks like we’ll just be taking all of it,” Elvis told Len, gesturing for them to ring it up.

“What, no!” she exclaimed in a panic. Vernon Presley would have her shot! Elvis laughed gleefully like a little kid and swept his hand along the treasures.

“Then pick something, you silly girl! You ain’t quite woken up yet, have you, honey.” She frowned at him and then down at the array, her fingers hovering over a ring with a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds.

“Are you sure?” she asked. He looked confused for a minute, then his face softened, and he reached up and rubbed the skin between her brows, smoothing her frown.

“What calls to you?” he asked quietly, intimately, like they weren’t being watched by a handful of people. She searched his face, looking into his murky blue eyes, trying to understand what she was saying to him if she did as he asked, what she was forgiving, and what she was promising.

“I told you I’d buy you diamonds,” he murmured, giving her a wink. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she was assailed by guilt and shame for immediately wondering how she was being manipulated instead of appreciating the gesture for what it was.

“You’ve already kept that promise several times over,” she replied, thinking of the expensive gifts and surprises he had bestowed upon her over the years.

“And I’m gonna keep on keepin’ it.” She was about to lay her hand upon the sapphire when something else caught her eye, not on the velvet, but in the cabinet below.

“Does it have to be one of these?” she asked. He rolled his eyes and muttered about awkward women.

“Why, what you seen, honey?”

She pointed at the glass at the small, tasteful oval garnet stone haloed by diamonds. Len immediately crouched down behind the counter and drew out the pillow it was sitting on. Chancy smiled at it, feeling Elvis’ eyes burning into her face as she tried it on. It was a little big for her ring finger on her right hand, but it fit the middle finger perfectly.

“We’ll take this, please, Sir,” Elvis murmured, before leaning across the counter and snatching up three or four other rings like he was collecting seashells at the beach. He caught her look and shrugged bashfully. “What? You can’t just buy one ring, your other fingers’ll get jealous.”

Well, that explained a lot, Chancy reflected. Elvis turned down the offer to wrap up the other rings, asking for the boxes to be put in a bag, but insisting on holding them in his hand.

Before she could turn to follow Red and Joe, he grabbed her good hand and turned her back, sliding a ring onto as many fingers as he could.

“Elvis, I can’t, I-“ She stopped herself, catching the uncertainty as it flickered on his face. “Baby, they are so beautiful, it’s a little overwhelming. Thank you!”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her into him a little too long for a thank you hug. She relaxed, stroking his back and feeling him swallow against her shoulder. She could hear what he was asking, the way he always used to in his playful little baby voice. She gripped him as tight as she could in answer.

_____________________________________________________________

AN: A huge thank you to my alpha reader @thatbanditqueen, who makes all things better.

Shout out to the wonderful authors/LE detectives and prolific nighttime messagers @be-my-ally, @ellie-24, @vintageshanny, @missmaywemeetagain, and @from-memphis-with-love

A huge thanks to @lookingforrainbows for the baby elvis pic avalanche, you're a treasure!

@richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber, @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters, @18lkpeters, @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics, @eliseinmemphis

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