#I feel like I need to walk in circles in an empty theater and just talk about this out loud.

[albino-parakeet]

I was thinking about the dynamics between Danwu and Edwu happening at the same time.

Using the 100% canon compliant Danwu timeline as reference lol. None of this is actual canon. I am just thinking about the timeline of events.

The Edwu situationship goes crazy the more I think of it.

Like Eddie being Wu’s partner in crime against nature is like. Yea going off of the Danwu timeline, Daniel and Wu have known each other for a good while.

But like… does Daniel know about Wu almost dying to the Scorpios? Does Daniel even know about the whole secret hybrid thing going on? He obviously doesn’t know a good bunch since his company recruited Sammy and whoever to get insider information.

I mean it would make sense that Wu would still keep things hidden from Daniel when it comes to his work. Especially his hybrids since he’s so attached to them. He’s still competition, owning Mantahcorp and all.

But you know who was there… you know who does know. Because he’s right there. Because he’s trusted.

A situationship born out of convenience and seeking comfort after nearly dying…

[fir3ylolol]

smile! you're on camera

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: Staying at Johnny's house is really nice, except...something feels a little off. You find out the hard way when you decide to entertain yourself on the couch.

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, making out, face fucking, sex tape, dom/sub, switch!reader, switch!johnny cage, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, dom!johnny cage, sub!reader, sex in a theater, i physically cant write men who dont whine, he needs pussy!, afab!reader, he wants you so bad omg, smut, shameless smut, porn with light plot

a/n: hehehehehehe...this is inspired by the voice clip in the invasion mode of mk1 where he says he has cameras everywhere. ive been rly inspired lately, but im gna open up requests on here soon, so keep an eye outtt

word count: 2.63 k

Ao3

Something was really off about Cage’s house. After coming back from the tournament and training, you weren’t ready to get back to normal life. And Johnny had offered you a starring role in the movie he was planning to make about Outworld. You accepted quickly, after making sure you wouldn’t have to get naked or be a horrible person or anything like that. But rent is rough, and Johnny is so generous as to let you stay at his place.

His casual, gigantic mansion-y place.

But it was nice. You had your own space, a full fridge, and could still ignore things like work for a bit longer. Plus, Johnny was a surprisingly great host, hosting movie nights in his private theater. Everything was great, except…

You always felt like someone was watching you. As long as you weren’t in your room or the bathroom, it felt like there were eyes on you. Getting a drink of water? It’s there. Sitting on the couch? Being watched. Just wandering into a room? Oh yeah, you for sure feel it. But you brush it off and don’t bother to say anything to Johnny. You figure it’s just dumb paranoia.

After about 2 weeks without any work from Johnny, you’re getting bored. He’s never home, he has work to do and a movie to plan. So you sit around the mansion all day, waiting. Usually, you read, watch stuff, or even just take laps around the house for exercise. But today, you’re just scrolling through social media. Even that is boring to you today. You decide that, hey, you can think of a good way to pass the time. For a quick moment, you forget about feeling watched. Your fingers dip below your waistband, shivering at your touch. It’s been a long time, you’ve been training and then living in someone else’s house. When would you have the chance?

Slowly, you begin to tease yourself, fingers circling your clit. It’s quite embarrassing how much it affects you, but you’ve lost your ability to feel shame. You lose yourself in your actions, whimpers and moans echoing through the empty house. Unable to stop yourself, you finish with an almost violent snap, panting harshly. Pulling your hand out, you finally feel embarrassed, with how fast you were, and how hard you came. Shakily, you stand up and walk towards the bathroom to wash your hands.

You've forgotten what you did by the time Johnny gets home that evening. Smiling as he walks in, a grocery bag in one hand. “Here comes Mr. Celebrity to pass out treats to us poor folk,” you throw your hands out in a joking manner. But there’s a weird look in his eyes, not matching his characteristic smile. “It’s movie night, I had to make sure we had enough snacks,” he walks towards the kitchen, you shortly behind. “Oh yeah! What’s the movie tonight?” You lean against the counter, searching through the bag.

“The Thing. We haven’t done any horror movies yet.” He grabs a glass of water, drinking deeply. But that look is still there. It almost scares you away at how sharp it is. “Ah, ok. Well…I guess I’ll see you then.” You back out of the room, almost running when you’re out of his sight. Catching your breath in your room, confusion floods your mind. Did you do something wrong? Is he tired of having you here? All you can do is wait and wonder until tonight.

And tonight comes much too fast. You find yourself stumbling into the theater room, meeting Johnny’s eyes as you walk in. But he seems much happier. Maybe he was just tired after work. As you get settled, a bag of snacks next to your leg. As Johnny starts the movie and turns the lights down, you start to get nervous. What if he’s mad at you? He is pretty rich, if he wants you dead, it wouldn’t take long.

But Johnny sits next to you, settling down and looking towards you. You try not to look at him, fearing that you might meet a cold gaze. Unable to stop yourself though, your eyes meet his. The weird look is still there, no longer hidden under sunglasses and smiles. Ever the considerate movie-watcher, he leans in to whisper in your ear. “So, did you have a good day? It must get lonely here.” Trying to stay calm, you whisper back, “It was ok, I can’t complain. Was your day ok?”

“Yeah, more progress made on my movie. Studios are eating it up. But…” He pauses, looking at the screen shortly before looking back to you. “I did see a very interesting movie on break.” Turning fully, you look at him confusedly. What in the hell was he talking about? “Oh yeah? What was it?”

“Well, you know, I do have cameras set up like everywhere, right?”

Oh shit.

Your entire face drops, frozen in shock. You finally remember the fun you had earlier on the couch. The watched feeling finally makes sense. “O-oh…” You stumble over yourself trying to think of excuses. This is humiliating. But Johnny doesn’t falter like you. He pauses the movie, reaching his hand out and taking yours to pull your focus back to him.

“You put on quite a show for me, you know?” You finally recognize the look in his eyes. It’s intense curiosity and...lust? “Only wish I knew what you were thinking about. Care to enlighten me?” He leans slightly closer, hot breath fanning over you. Swallowing hard, you try to avoid his intense stare. “I-I wasn’t thinking. I was just…bored?” He laughs slightly, holding your other hand. “Really? I was sorta hoping you were thinking of me, but that’s a little selfish, huh?”

“H-huh? What? Do…do you think of me like that?” You fluster further at his words. “Maybe…does that bother you?” He falters slightly, realizing that he might be making you uncomfortable. But you can't stop yourself from blurting out, “No! It doesn't bother me. I-” Cutting you off, Johnny leans in closer, lips an inch apart. “Then what's the problem?” You swallow hard, eyes rapidly moving back and forth from his eyes to his mouth, and finally answer.

“I just don't know what to do when fantasy becomes reality.”

Luckily for you, Johnny knows.

He closes the distance between you two, kissing you like your life depended on it. You wrap your hands behind his neck and lean back, pulling him impossibly closer. Your tongues dance against each other, lips crashing. Suddenly, you get a surge of confidence, one that defies your previous apprehension. One of your hands slips down his chest slowly, inching along until you reach his growing bulge. He pulls back slightly, panting and staring directly into your eyes. “H-hey now, you’re not playing fair,” he manages to get out, slightly whining at your touch. 

“You started it, watching me like that,” you whisper in his ear, fingers slowly rubbing along his waistband. He gasps lightly, head turning away from you. “You liked it, right? Did you touch yourself watching it?” Your fingers move further past his waist, inching towards his cock. “C’mon, you can tell me,” your voice almost sing-songy and teasing. He manages to stutter out a shaky “y-yeah” as you continue down. But you suddenly stop, much to his disappointment.

Instead, you move to kneel in between his legs, looking up at him with sultry eyes. He looks slightly confused until you undo his pants button. Biting his lip, he watches you with intense, pleading eyes. You lean up, taking the zipper of his fly in your mouth and undoing it. He looks like he could honestly cum right now, but you won't let him. As you pull his pants and boxers down his thighs, his cock springs up, the tip angry and weeping. He blushes at the sight of himself like this and you, looking up at him with his hard dick right in front of you.

You slowly wrap your hand around him, stroking him a few times. You just want to watch him squirm and squirm he does. He is whining, head turning back and forth, with one hand on his thigh and the other over his mouth. You kiss the underside, looking up at him through your lashes. With a muffled moan, he looks away again, face scrunching up in concentration and pleasure. Slowly licking at the tip, watching as he continues unraveling, you finally take him in your mouth. You fit as much as you can at first, reveling in the loud gasp you earn from him. You continue a relentless pace, gently massaging his balls as well. 

This pleasure is intense for Johnny, so much so that he’s starting to tear up, eyes welling up as he holds back as many sounds as he can. But that only lasts so long as you lift your head off him, taking a deep breath and rasping out, “Do you wanna come, baby? Huh? Then come on, fuck my face like a good boy.” 

You go further down this time, causing him to jump at the feeling. Scurried hands grab at your head as he's bent forward, bucking at a frenzied pace. Loud, slutty moans roll from his lips as he loses himself in the feeling. And as you kneel there, trying to stay there for as long as possible, you feel yourself growing wetter. You did this to him, got him so riled up that he could barely control himself. Amongst his hurried moves, you manage to push past your gag reflex and fully take his entire cock down your throat. A loud, long breathy moan is all Johnny can get out as he almost immediately cums at the feeling. Focusing on holding your breath until you can no longer feel him pulsing in your throat, you savor his sounds, his whines, whimpers, moans.

As you move up, taking a deep breath, you admire him in the lowlights. His face flushed and sweaty, eyes rolled back in his head, usually perfect hair messed up. Beautiful. But he only stays like that for so long, because you move up to kiss him. As if his body is reacting without him thinking, he wraps one hand behind your back and uses one to tangle in your hair. After a short kiss, he pulls away. You manage to half-whisper “That was quite a show you put on,” chuckling afterward.

Johnny lazily motions for you to sit next to him, and you oblige. But before you’re even fully down, he's on you, kissing and pulling you closer. Now it's his turn to tease, fingers traveling under your shirt to play with your nipples. You let out light gasps at the feeling, as Johnny starts to bite and suck at your neck.

Mumbling against your skin, you can hear him say, “I'll give you a show.” He manages to pull your shirt off before you even realize what's happening, his eyes still desperate and wanting. He has no grace or subtlety as he pulls your pants and underwear off, he doesn't want to wait any longer than he has to. Shrugging his shirt and pants fully off, he stares at you intensely. He moves a finger to swipe across your wetness, knees buckling slightly as he feels you. He leans in against your chest, beginning to beg. “Please, please, I wanna be inside you, love. I wanna give you a real show, show how good I can be. Please?” God, he's kind of pathetic like this. It's hot.

With a quick nod, he springs up. He wastes no time as he practically lifts you and turns you around. Now, with your hands grasping the back of your seat and ass in the air, Johnny leans over you and presses against your back. Kissing between your shoulder blades, he slowly moves his hips to yours, cock gently rubbing against your wet pussy. Unable to control himself, his hips buck at the sensation, earning a groan from both of you. Face still against your back, you feel him lightly bite you, trying to ground himself. 

Finally, he manages to calm himself, standing up and taking a deep breath. After a pause, he lines himself up and pushes in slowly. With a long whine, he manages to bury himself inside you, pausing to adjust. With a strained voice, he quietly says, “Oh god, you feel so good, squeezing against my cock like that. I’m already sensitive, you know.” After a short pause, he starts to move, mesmerized by the way your ass bounces against him. “Shit, I should’ve fucked you earlier. I’ve been missing out,” he manages to get out as he speeds up, reveling in the way you mewl under him.

He’s moving at a breakneck pace now, gripping your hips desperately, and sputtering out praise. Without slowing, his hands shoot out, wrapping around your neck and grabbing your jaw. He’s using your head as leverage, but he manages to fuck you even deeper. He gently turns your head to the back corner of the theater, lightly slapping your cheek to get your attention. “See right there? That’s where the camera is. Go ahead, put on a show, baby.” Despite his confident words, his voice is higher than normal and breathy. His words shoot straight to your dripping pussy, clenching even tighter around him. His hips buck in as he laughs slightly. “You like that? You like being my own personal pornstar? Then come on, let me see it. Get louder, these mics only pick up so much. Don’t hold back, yeah?” 

You decide that he’s getting a little too cocky, and decide to shut him up a bit. Moaning out obscenities, you begin to bounce back against him. His hands shoot back to your hips, using you to stabilize himself. Gone are his confident words, replaced with the most gorgeous whimpers you’ve ever heard. His head dips lower, resting once again against your upper back. You can hear his quiet whispers of “Oh fuck” repeated over and over again like a prayer.

With scrambling fingers that dart under you, he starts to play with your clit, bouncing at the same rhythm of his thrusts. “What fun is it if I’m the only one cumming? Besides…” he lets out a breathy laugh, “I studied the game tape.” He begins moving in circles, and suddenly it’s like you’re fucking him for the 50th time. He knows exactly where and what feels good, what directions, and how much pressure to use. But you have no time to wonder how many times he watched you before his hips started snapping in shaky thrusts. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, and with the energy you have left, you decide to put on a major finale. Head tipped back, you begin pleading with him, crying out, “Please come for me, please, please. You’ve done such a good job, I need it, I need you, please please please…” Unable to hold back, he cums with a harsh final thrust. But even in the throws pleasure, he manages to continue to play with your clit. You cum shortly after him, he whines at the feeling of you spasming around his extremely sensitive cock. He slowly pulls out, taking a long second to admire the sight of you bent over and dripping arousal.

He guides you into the chair, helping you sit down and catch your breath. He sits next to you, snuggling into your side and planting his face against your neck. He breathes deep, inhaling your scent and kissing lightly against your sensitive skin. He manages to mumble into your neck, looking up with sweet, half-lidded eyes, “So...there’s about 56 cameras in the house. You mind sticking around for an extra few weeks?”

[thesmokingguns]

The Exorcist w/ Izzy Stradlin

MINORS DNI 18+

Izzy spits into my pussy, two of his long fingers pushing into my already soaked entrance as I bite the back of my hand, pushing his head down under the leather jacket he threw over my lap as a makeshift blanket so no one can see the way he's feasting on me.

I’m spread open, my legs over his shoulder, my ass at the edge of the fake velvet movie theater seating as The Exorcist plays for the midnight showing.

The local theater does a lead up to Halloween, playing all the classic horror movies for midnight showings and we've been going to all of them.

Tonight, after a late dinner, Izzy walked us into the back row, his mouth on mine as we made out more than watched the movie. Until he had said fuck it, looking around at the mostly empty theater, dropping to his knees in front of me so that he can taste me.

I was already dripping for him before he even lowered his lips to the swollen bud of my clitoris. My body vibrating with the need for him that couldn’t be contained.

“Fuck.” his curse word is dirty and delicious and the way he swears with pleasure as he eats me out makes me heat up all over. The way he wants me drives me so crazy. He wants me without caring how it looks. He doesn’t care who sees how the love we share consumes him like a drug.

I’m his favorite addiction and he won’t be kicking the habit of me anytime soon.

“Fuck me with your tongue.” His fingers curl upward, tapping like he knows morse code as my knees strangle his neck.

What a hell of a way to kill him. Would it be from suffocation from my legs or accidental drowning on my wet pussy?

I should know better than to tell him what to do but I can’t help myself.

“Izzy.” He pulls away, the wet sounds that his fingers are making as his other hand comes up to his lips in a silent hush sound. Apparently you can’t be loud when your boyfriend goes down on you in a theater.

Guess that's something you oughta know or whatever Alanis Morisette said.

His fingers slide out of me, pushing small circles around my clit as his tongue drags wet strokes over my slit, teasing my entrance as I think about how I’m rocking against his face, the chair under me squeaking like it’s going to break from the way I’m pushing it. At least I’ll have a soft landing on his face.

The tip of his tongue prods me as his hand slides around  my thighs before he pulls me forward, more on his face than the chair now.

“IZZY!” I scream his name as his tongue slips fully inside me, two fingers moving up and down on my clit. My orgasm overtaking any sense that I might have had.

I’m chasing my pleasure as his fingers that had been rubbing my clit are shoved into my mouth as a makeshift gag. The salty musk of my own body fills my senses as I moan around the digits. Izzy still tongue fucking me as Linda Blair throws up what looks like pea soup on camera.

The leather jacket falls to the ground and I grip Izzy’s hair. I can cum again. The feeling of a second orgasm is right there and Izzy is chasing that high with me.

I moan loudly, mouth loosening around his fingers as his eyes shoot up to catch sight of my hooded lust filled gaze downward. He wants to taste me cumming again. I can see the way he is waiting or it.

My back arches off the chair and I’m cumming again, spasming as he presses a hand against my stomach and holding me like I’m the one having an exorcism performed.

Izzy wipes his mouth as he slides into his seat, picking up a piece of popcorn and pushing the wet fingers and salty food in his mouth with an exaggerated moan as I try to remember how to breathe.

“Delicious.” I look next  to me, the way he gives me a smirk like he didn’t just try to suck the soul out of me through my pussy has me shaking  my head.

Reaching for my hand he presses it to the front of his black jeans, letting me rub up and down against the erection that is straining in his pants.

He’s so fucking hard for me, wants me so much that there is a wet spot from where his precum has been leaking out as he went down on me.

I should drop to my knees and go down on him in the theater but I’m greedy.

My hand pulls down his zipper, stroking his hard cock lazily as he watches the way my hand goes up and down, thumb rubbing over the wet head sucking on the salty precum that I collected before I’m sliding on his lap. My back is flush with his front as I lower myself onto his cock.

Izzy’s hand is on my hip, holding me as I seat myself against him, filling myself with his hard length, rolling my hips to get a tighter fit.

Leaning forward, my hands are on the seat in front of me, bracing myself as I rise and fall, riding him as the movie plays. Izzy watched me instead of what we paid to see, seeing where we we’re connected. Watching the way my hungry pussy creams against his cock , making a mess and sounds that people can definitely hear as I ride him.

“Naughty girl.” He grips my hair, hand snaking around my stomach as he tops me from the bottom, pushing himself in me as he rides me, just holding me along for the ride, “I can feel your greedy cunt trying to cum again. You want me to drain my balls in this tight little cunt, don’t you pretty darling?” I nod, overly sensitive from the two orgasms he’s already delivered to me. “Ask nicely and I’ll fill you with my cum, darling.” His breath is warm against my ear.

Fuck.

I don’t even know how to make my mouth move or how to form words but I need to please him more than anything. All I want is to make him happy.

“Please, Izzy. I want your cum.” His hand slaps my pussy, the sound lewd and loud as I buck. The hot wave of my orgasm washing over me.

“Good girl, darling. SO fucking hot squeezing around me.” His breath comes out in puffs as he groans out, fucking me on the squeaking chair until his cum is filling e, his cock throbbing inside of me as he fills me with hot swirls of his seed.

The sound he makes as he breathes in my air, trying to catch his breath after having fucked me makes me shiver.

“Need to get you home, pretty darling. I need more of you.” He helps me stand up as my legs trembled, “I’m going to have you holding on to me for dear life when we get home. Let you scratch my backup as you try to get a grip. But you’ll be my good little fuck doll, won’t you darling?” he kisses my temple as he zips his pants up, picking up the popcorn and grabbing my hand, leading us towards the exit.

I’ll be the best fuck doll for him.

My cheeks burn as we take what feels like the walk of shame through the theater but it was worth it. So fucking worth it.

[devskindawritingblog]

Jackie’s Twin sister x Shauna

Click to help Palestine 🇵🇸 🍉

AN: hiiiii I’m back. I’m so glad I was able to finish this 2 months after it was requested 😅😅. I’ll be working on all the others after I promise. This was a request but I responded to it here . It was basically Shauna and Jackie’s little sister. I decided just to make them twins because I can 😝.

summary: Shauna and you have been sneaking off behind your sisters back for a while now but how will it work when your stranded in the woods.

word count rounded: 1.5k

You knew it was a bad idea to sneak off like this with your sister's best friend. But you couldn’t stop; you and Shauna had been a “thing” before nationals. The first time was when Jackie was sick, so you and Shauna went to see Scream by yourselves. Sure, you and Shauna were friends, but she and Jackie were best friends. You were only really around her because you and Jackie shared a bedroom as kids. So whenever Shauna was over, you also hung out with them. 

So it was just you and Shauna in the back corner of the movie theater. It was a bit awkward without Jackie, but it was still a good time. You never really loved horror movies, but you made an exception for this one. The theater was pretty full, but the back corner was mostly empty. You were a little antsy and nervous going into the movie, but you didn’t want to show it in front of Shauna. You jumped a bit and instinctively reached out to grab onto something, which happened to be Shauna's hand. You jump in surprise as you realize that it's her hand. You quickly pull your hand away. “Sorry I-” You panic, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“No, no, it's ok.” Shauna assures cutting you off. You turn your head to catch her gaze as she smiles softly and holds out her hand, looking just as nervous as you. You take her hand in yours as you intertwine your fingers with hers.You relax as she gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You both continue to watch the movie, but now every time you get scared, you squeeze Shauna's hand. For the rest of the movie, you hold Shauna’s hand, and you can feel your cheeks heat up every time you feel her thumb rub the top of your hand.

After that movie, you couldn’t look at Shauna the same way. Anytime you saw her, you knew you were in too deep. You and Shauna never established a relationship or even talked about it, but you snuck off more times than you could count to make out together. It mostly ended with an awkward walk back to Jackie. This continued even after the crash. You, of course, didn’t mind; with the stress of the situation, it was a blessing when Shauna would drag you away to make out. You found a secret little circle of trees to be out of any prying eyes.  

Today was just like the others. You finished your chores early and had nothing to do. You walked over to where Shauna was draining the deer that Nat and Travis had just shot. You walk over to her, scrunching your nose up a bit at the sight. “Ewwww, that smells awful. How can you stand the smell?” You ask, holding your nose and turning your face away from the bloody deer. “Poor thing”.

“It's not that bad, and do you actually feel bad? He's our dinner tonight." Shauna states as she puts down the knife. "Well, kinda, what if he had a deer wife or husband and some deer kids?” You stay, taking a step away from the deer, as Shauna follows. “They will be fine; it's just how the food chain works. And we need to eat to stay  alive." "Fine, I guess; I don't really want to starve; I just don’t have the stomach for this.” Shauna walks over to you and smiles softly.”Well, that's why I'm doing it, not you.” 

“Yeah, yeah." You sigh, looking at Shauna, before looking down at her hand, grabbing it, and pulling her closer. Shauna’s eyes widen just the slightest, but she doesn’t pull away. As she gets pulled closer, she plants her hands on your hips. “You know...” you trail off, a playful smile spreading on your face as your arms find their way around her neck. “You could take a little break. I could keep you company.” You say this as you smile fully at her and giggle as she raises her eyebrow. She glances around and grabs you by the hand before tugging you deeper into the forest toward your usual makeout spot.

Shauna stops as you both make it to the tree line. The soft breeze of the warm summer day rattles the branches. You can faintly hear the swish of the river a calm woosh. You turn to look at her and then at her lips as you take a step toward her. She takes a few steps back, almost tripping over a root, but ends up with her back against the nearby tree. The rough bark scratches against her overworn flannel, but she is far too distracted to notice. You lean closer to her and pull her into a kiss. She kisses you back as her hands find their way around your waist. She pulls you into her, chest to chest, as you continue to make out. Her hands find their way up to your neck as her arms drape over your shoulders.

You both pull away for a breather, and Shauna pushes herself off the tree and spins you so that you switch places. She presses you back against the rough bark, and it scrapes the back of your shirt, likely staining it. Before you can worry too much about it, she leans forward, pulling you back into a kiss. Her hands find their way under your shirt near your hips, her fingers digging in to hold you in place. You hum into the kiss as Shauna's fingers massage your lower back in a continuous circular motion. She pulls away again, and you sigh, but she quickly leans forward again, but this time she misses your lips entirely and begins to kiss your neck. You rest your head against the tree as she kisses you from the base of your neck all the way up to your jawline.

SNAP! 

A twig crunches under someone's foot as both of you jump. Shauna's arms slide down to your waist, ready to run if it's something you both can’t handle. But it turned out to be even worse than a bear. It was Jackie. You both go silent, eyes wide as you freeze, almost as if you don’t move, then maybe she won't see you. Jackie's face switches between confusion, shock, and amusement in under 5 seconds. “Wowza Shipman, your “too busy cutting up that deer to go for a walk. But it turns out you’re sucking on my sister's neck.” Jackie smirks, looking you up and down. You go to speak, but nothing seems to come out. Shauna untangles her arms from your neck as she steps away from you. Jackie raises her eyebrow. “ What? Were you even going to tell me that you're making out with my best friend behind my back? She turns to you, looking stern, and it makes you feel guilty. 

"Well, it's not like we're dating Jax just... You know, having fun, I guess?” You're avoiding your sister's eyes as you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “I’d say,” she teases. "Well, I'm not mad, I guess; I just wish you didn’t lie to me.”

“Like I get you keeping it a secret, you're my sister.”She says this while pointing at you before narrowing her eyes at Shauna. “But Shauna? Really, at least tell me if your lips are going to be on my sister.”

"Oook, Jax, that's enough.” You say, shoving her shoulder. She giggles and pulls you into a hug, squeezing you. “They grow up so fast.” She says she is wiping away a fake tear. "Oh, shut up; I'm only 3 minutes younger.” You say pushing her face away. “You’re still my baby sibling.” She says smiling and pulling you into a hug before she lets go and turns her attention to Shauna. “I'm happy for you, Shaunie, but if you ever hurt my sister, I will make you regret it. You better treat them right.” Jackie says this as she lets you go and walks over to Shauna. Shauna's eyes widened a little. She has never seen this version of Jackie, and she won’t admit it, but it truly scares her.

“I promise.” Shauna says she is afraid to oppose her best friend. “And well, I was wondering if all this sneaking around isn't really helping either of us; do you want to be my girlfriend for real?” Shauna asks, looking nervously at you, hoping that it's something you want as well. A smile grows on your face as you nod rapidly. “Yes, I'd love that,” you exclaim, pulling her into a hug.

“Great, now I'm going to be third-wheeling during sleepovers.” Jackie jokes, nudging you with her arm as the three of you make your way back to the cabin, you and Shauna hand in hand.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Chapter 7 - Friends, Enemies, and Everyone in Between

Summary: Valerie adjusts to life in Memphis, dealing with a frosty welcome from some locals. A confrontation at a hair salon leads to her being labeled a homewrecker. She receives shocking news from Elvis whose life appears to be unraveling.

Author's note: Yes, I know this picture of E is from 1968. But he looks so hot, so roll with it.

The Memphis airport was smaller than Vegas, quieter. But the photographers weren't.

"Miss Pedretti! Over here!" 

"What about Mrs. Presley?" 

"Is it true about you and Elvis?"

I kept walking, sunglasses firmly in place. Jerry had warned me they'd be waiting. Memphis press was different than Vegas press. Hungrier, more personal. These weren't just looking for a story. They were defending their hometown boy.

The black Cadillac Elvis had sent waited at the curb, Red behind the wheel. No Elvis. I hadn't really expected him to come, but still. The empty seat felt significant.

"Welcome to Memphis," Red said, taking my bags. His smile was apologetic. "Boss wanted to be here, but..."

"But Priscilla's at Graceland." The words came out steadier than I felt.

I unfolded the newspaper I'd been clutching since the airport, smoothing out the real estate section. The ad was still circled in red crayon: "East Memphis. 2BR, hardwood floors, good light." Something about it had called to me. My place. My choice. My life in Memphis, even if part of that life belonged to Elvis.

"Change of plans," I told Red. "I’m not going to the hotel."

He glanced at the paper, understanding dawning. "You found your own place already."

"I did."

"Boss ain’t gonna like that."

"Boss doesn't have to like it."

Red's laugh was warm. "Girl, you really aren't like the others, are you?"

The apartment was on the third floor of a red brick building shaded by magnolia trees. The realtor, a sharp-faced woman named Mrs. Whitmore, was waiting.

"Oh!" Her eyes went wide when she saw Red. Recognition flickered. "You're..."

"Just the driver, ma'am." But he winked at me as he carried up my bags.

The apartment was exactly as advertised. Hardwood floors that needed polish. Windows that caught the morning light. A kitchen small but workable. The second bedroom could be a music room. I could teach here, once I got settled.

"It's perfect," I said.

Mrs. Whitmore named a price. With my new salary as a studio musician - the Colonel's 'arrangement' - I could afford it easily. But I was already scanning the newspapers for teaching jobs. Someday soon, I'd be free and clear of his influence.

"Welcome home," Mrs. Whitmore said, handing over the keys. Then, trying too hard to sound casual: "Will you be... living alone?"

Red coughed.

"Yes," I said firmly. "I will."

After she left, I stood in my empty living room, keys heavy in my hand. My place. My life.

"You sure about this?" Red asked softly. "Being out here on your own?"

Through the window, I could see downtown Memphis in the distance. Somewhere out there was Graceland. Elvis. Priscilla. All of it waiting.

"I'm sure."

But by the third day, with no word from Elvis, doubt started creeping in. The apartment felt too empty, too quiet. The Memphis humidity crept through the windows, making everything feel damp and uncertain. I'd unpacked my clothes, arranged Elvis's books on makeshift shelves, even bought a secondhand record player. But something felt unfinished.

The phone didn't ring.

*

American Sound Studio looked nothing like the gleaming facilities in Vegas. It was a converted movie theater on Thomas Street, all red brick and character, with a soul that Vegas studios couldn't touch.

"This is where the magic happens," Red said, leading me through a back entrance. "Where Boss cut 'Suspicious Minds.'"

The other backup singers were already there. Three women, all perfectly coiffed despite the Memphis heat. They stopped talking the moment I walked in.

"Ladies," Red nodded. "This is Valerie Pedretti. She'll be joining us. She is a seasoned studio musician from Chicago. Got a hell of a set of pipes."

Mary Holladay, the eldest, stepped forward first. Her handshake was firm, professional. "Welcome to Memphis." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "We've heard so much about you."

I bet you have, I thought.

Ginger and Donna, the other two, exchanged looks that spoke volumes. But before anyone could say more, a familiar voice carried from the control room:

"Where is she? Where's Valley?"

Elvis appeared in the doorway. A week's worth of missing him, of wondering why he hadn't called, of practicing what I'd say when I saw him again - all of it vanished the moment our eyes met. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to run to him. I did neither. Only Elvis could make a woman forgive him just by walking into a room. I both hated and loved him for that power.

He wore black, as he often did, but somehow he looked different here. More solid. More present. His eyes found mine through the cigarette smoke that perpetually hung in the studio air. Bad for the lungs, I noted. 

"There you are. Welcome to Memphis." His smile was careful - we had an audience. "Everyone ready to make some music?"

The other singers watched our interaction like hawks. I kept my voice professional. "Ready when you are, Mr. Presley."

Something flickered in his eyes - amusement? Frustration? - at the formality. But he played along. 

"Alright then. Let's see what you've got." He turned to the group. "From the top, ladies. 'Sweet Sweet Spirit.'" A beautiful hymnal that he loved so much. Perfect for a warm up. 

For the next three hours, we worked. Really worked. Elvis was a perfectionist in the studio, demanding take after take until the harmonies were exactly right. I kept up, matching Mary's powerful alto, complementing Ginger's soprano, finding my place in their well-established blend.

During a break, Ginger cornered me by the water cooler. She was stunning - tall and elegant, with flawless mahogany skin and eyes that could pierce right through pretense. Her eyeliner was perfectly winged, and she carried herself with the kind of grace that came from years of knowing your worth in a world that tried to deny it.

"You're good," she said, surprising me. "Real good. But..." She glanced around, lowered her voice. "Be careful, honey. Memphis ain't Vegas. People here have long memories and longer knives."

Before I could respond, Elvis called us back in. As I took my place behind the microphone, I caught him watching me in the control room glass. For a moment, his carefully maintained facade cracked. The look in his eyes made my knees weak.

Then Mary started the harmony, and it was time to sing.

We recorded until our voices were raw. Elvis was relentless, but I understood why. Here, in this shabby-beautiful converted theater, he wasn't the Vegas showman or Graceland's lord of the manor. He was a musician, pure and simple, chasing perfection in the grooves of a record.

"One more time," he'd say, and we'd do it again. He even threw one of his latest hits at us to stretch our harmonies to the limit. "Kentucky Rain" was complex - a four-part arrangement that required absolute precision. Mary led with her powerful alto, Ginger and Donna weaving around her like smoke, and me... me finding spaces I didn't know existed in a song I'd heard a dozen times.

"That's it," Elvis said suddenly during our seventh take. He was looking right at me through the control room glass. "That's the sound I've been hearing in my head."

The other women shifted slightly. They'd been doing this for years, crafting those harmonies to perfection. Now here I was, changing things.

"Again," Elvis called. "From the beginning."

Seven lonely days and a dozen towns ago…. I reached out one night and you were gone…. Don't know why you'd run, what you're running to or from… All I know is I want to bring you home.

My voice wound through the arrangement like thread through fabric. Not competing, not dominating, just... belonging. I closed my eyes, letting the music take me somewhere beyond this room with its watchful gaze and careful distances. God, this is what I’d been waiting for. What I was meant to do. 

When I opened my eyes, Elvis was in the recording booth with us.

"Ladies," he said, but his eyes were on me, "take five. Except you, Valerie. Need to work on your phrasing."

The moment the door closed behind them, he was there. His hands found my waist, burning through the thin fabric of my dress.

"Been going crazy," he muttered against my neck. "Three days without touching you..."

"Then why didn’t you come see me?" But my protest died as his mouth found that spot below my ear. "Hey. The others could come back..."

"Let ‘em." His hands tightened possessively. "Missed you so damn much. The apartment's really necessary? Really gotta be so far away?"

I pushed him back gently, needing space to think. "Yes. It is."

He studied my face, something vulnerable flickering behind his eyes. "Cilla leaves for California next week. Then you can—"

"No." I kept my voice soft but firm. "I need my own place. For now."

"Even if it kills me?" But he was smiling now, that crooked boy's smile that made my heart flip.

"You'll survive."

"Will I?" His thumb traced my lower lip. "What if I don't want to survive? What if I just want—"

The control room door opened. We sprang apart like guilty teenagers as Chips Moman, the producer, stuck his head in.

"Ready when you are, E.P."

Elvis's face smoothed into professional neutrality. But his eyes, when they met mine, still burned.

"From the bridge this time," he said, his voice steady. "One more time."

The other singers filed back in, careful not to look at my flushed cheeks or Elvis' slightly mussed hair. But I caught Mary and Ginger exchanging glances. In Memphis, I was learning, nothing stayed secret for long.

We worked until dusk painted the studio windows purple. My voice was shot, but Elvis kept pushing - not just me now, but all of us. Something had shifted in him since our stolen moment. He was chasing perfection again, but with a new intensity.

"That's the one," Chips finally said after what felt like our hundredth take. "Elvis, man, that's it."

The playback filled the studio - four voices weaving around Elvis's lead like they'd been born to it. Like they'd always belonged there. Like I'd always belonged there.

"Beautiful," Elvis breathed. Then, softer, meant just for me: "Like you."

Mary cleared her throat. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Actually," Elvis said, not taking his eyes off me, "I thought we might try something new tomorrow. Valerie, you play piano, right?"

The other singers went very still.

"Yes," I said carefully.

"Good. I've got this gospel arrangement I've been working on..." He finally looked at the others. "Full band, full choir. Everyone's invited."

The invitation was pointed. Clear. I wasn't just the new backup singer - I was going to be involved in arrangements. In creation. In his music.

Donna muttered something under her breath. Ginger touched her arm quietly.

"Sounds wonderful," Mary said, her professional smile firmly in place. "We'll see you tomorrow then."

After they left, Elvis caught my hand. "Stay? Just for a minute?"

"Elvis..."

"Just want to play you something. The gospel arrangement." His thumb traced patterns on my palm. "Need your opinion."

I knew I should leave. The sun was setting, and Memphis wasn't Vegas. People would talk.

But when he sat at the piano and patted the bench beside him, I sat.

"It goes like this," he said softly, and began to play.

*

The next day, Memphis showed its teeth.

It started at Burke's, the only decent bookstore in East Memphis. I was looking for sheet music when I heard them - three women with carefully sprayed hair and pearls that gleamed like armor.

"That's her," one whispered, not bothering to lower her voice enough. "The Chicago girl."

"Playing piano for him now, I heard." 

The second voice dripped with disdain. "Like we don't have perfectly good piano players right here in Memphis."

“Well,” said the third, “you know what they say about Northern girls…” The words stung more than they should have. It didn’t feel fair. My parents were Southern, born and raised, though these women would never bother to learn that. For a moment, I felt a flicker of understanding about the gossip Elvis dealt with daily - even if my small taste of it was nothing compared to what he faced.

I kept my eyes on the sheet music, but my hands were shaking. The whispers followed me to the counter, where the clerk suddenly ran out of change. Funny, since it was right there in front of her.

"Register’s all out," she said sweetly. "Maybe try Goldsmith's instead? They're more... accommodating."

I left without the music.

At the grocery store, a woman pulled her children away as I passed, like being a session singer was contagious. The butcher couldn't find the cut of meat I wanted. The coffee shop was mysteriously full, though half the tables sat empty.

By the time I got to my apartment, fury had replaced the hurt. I'd faced down the Colonel, handled the Vegas press. By God, I could handle some small-town spite.

The phone was ringing when I walked in.

"How you holding up, sugar?" It was Ginger, surprising me. Her voice was like warm syrup on a waffle. "Mary told me about Burke's. Her sister-in-law works there."

"News travels fast."

"Honey, in Memphis, news travels before it happens." She paused. "Listen, some of us are getting together tonight at the Rendezvous. Just singers, no... complications. Want to come?"

I hesitated.

"Come on," she pressed. "Can't hide in that apartment forever. Besides, you need allies in this town."

The Rendezvous was underground - literally. A basement restaurant thick with barbecue smoke and history. Ginger was already there with Donna and two other women I recognized from the studio - backup singers who worked for the studio.

"Valerie, meet Sophie and Jane," Ginger said. "They also sing with Al Green."

"When he lets us," Sophie laughed. She was older than the others, with kind eyes. Her dark skin popped against her bright orange dress. Even in the dim lighting she was absolutely radiant. "Heard you held your own with Elvis yesterday. Not many can keep up when he gets in one of his perfectionist moods."

"The arrangement was beautiful," Donna admitted grudgingly. "Even if it did take forty takes in all."

"Forty-three," I corrected, and they all laughed.

The ribs came, and with them stories. About Al Green's legendary temper. About B.B. King's generosity. About Elvis, back when he was just a truck driver with big dreams.

"Mary's the only one of us who knew him then," Ginger said, wiping sauce from her chin. "Says he was real shy, if you can believe it. Always polite, calling everyone 'sir' and 'ma'am.'"

"Still does," Jane noted. "When he remembers he's not in Vegas."

"Speaking of Vegas..." Sophie's eyes were sharp but not unkind. "You gonna be okay here, honey? This town can be hard on outsiders. Especially ones who..." She trailed off diplomatically.

"Who date married men?" I kept my voice level.

"Who catch the eye of its favorite son," Sophie corrected gently. "Elvis isn't just a singer here. He's... Memphis. And Priscilla might live in California, but she's still his wife. Still comes to church when she's in town. Still has friends here."

"I have my own place," I said. "My own life. I'm not trying to take anything from anyone."

"Honey," Ginger sighed, "that's not how they'll see it."

As if to prove her point, a woman passed our table and "accidentally" spilled her drink on my dress. She didn't apologize.

"Maggie Johnson," Donna muttered. "Dated Elvis in high school. Still bitter about it twenty years later."

"That's nothing," Sophie said. "Wait till you meet the Sunday School crowd. They've been praying for Elvis and Priscilla since 1959."

"And now here you come," Ginger added, "all talent and beauty and Northern independence. They don't know what to do with you."

"I don't know what to do with me either sometimes," I admitted.

The women exchanged glances.

"Well," Sophie said finally, "for what it's worth, I like what you did with our harmonies today. About time someone shook things up around here."

After dinner, Ginger insisted on driving me home. "Memphis isn't Vegas," she said for the hundredth time. "Not safe for a woman alone at night."

But when we pulled up to my building, Elvis's Cadillac was waiting.

"Oh Lord," Ginger muttered. "Here we go."

He was leaning against the car, all in black despite the heat. Sunglasses on, despite the dark. When he saw us, he straightened, and even Ginger sucked in a breath.

"Still got it," she whispered. "After all these years, he still just... got it."

"Thanks for dinner," I said quickly.

"Remember what we said," she called as I got out. "About allies!"

Elvis waited until her tail lights disappeared before pulling me close.

"Missed you," he murmured against my hair.

"It's been six hours."

"Too long." He pulled back, frowning. "You smell like barbecue. And... is that wine on your dress?"

"Local hospitality," I said dryly. "Your old girlfriend Maggie says hello. Sort of."

His jaw tightened. "Who's been giving you trouble?"

"No one I can't handle."

"Valley Cat—"

"I mean it." I touched his face, feeling the tension there. "I knew what I was getting into."

Elvis's jaw tightened at my words, and I recognized that look - the one he got when he wanted to fix something, to make it better, to protect what was his. He'd bought Cadillacs for strangers just for being kind to him; I could only imagine what he wanted to do to people who were cruel to me. But we both knew his protection would only make things worse. Memphis had to accept me on my own terms, or not at all.

"I don't need protecting."

"No." His smile was sad. "You never did."

We stood there in the humid night, neither speaking. Somewhere a radio played "Love Me Tender" - in this town, Elvis was always playing somewhere.

"Come up?" I asked finally.

He glanced at my dark windows, wanting to say yes. I could feel it in the way his hands tightened on my waist.

"I shouldn't," he said reluctantly. "Cilla’s at Graceland, and people watch..."

"People always watch."

"Around here, they do more than watch. They remember. They judge." He pressed his forehead to mine. "Just a little bit longer. ‘Till she goes back to California. Then maybe..."

A car passed slowly, its headlights lingering too long. Elvis stepped back automatically, the gesture practiced. Protective. Of me? Of himself? Of the image he had to maintain?

"I should go," he said. "Early session tomorrow."

"The gospel arrangement?"

"Yeah." His smile returned. "Got some ideas I want to run by you. If... if that's okay?"

He was asking permission, I realized. Giving me the choice to step back, to be just another studio singer. To make my life in Memphis easier.

"I'd like that," I said.

He kissed me then, quick but tender, not caring about the watching eyes. When he pulled away, there was something like wonder in his face.

"What?" I asked.

"Just thinking," he said softly, "how glad I am you said no to the Colonel's house. How right you look here, in your own place. Being yourself."

Another car drove by, slower this time.

"Go," I said gently. "Before the whole neighborhood figures out."

He touched my face once more, then got in the car. I watched until his tail lights disappeared, then climbed the stairs to my apartment.

Inside, the empty rooms felt different now - not lonely. Purposeful. This was my space, my choice. My life in Memphis, complicated and difficult, but also exciting.

On the coffee table, my copy of "Kentucky Rain" waited. I put it on the second hand record player, letting the music fill the space.

Our voices rose behind Elvis's lead - Mary's strength, Ginger's grace, Donna's precision. And mine, weaving through them all, finding my own way.

Just like I was finding my way here.

One day at a time.

*

The studio sessions were going well - too well, maybe. Every day we made magic, laying down tracks that even Chips said were something special. The other singers had warmed to me, professionally at least. Even Mary had stopped giving me those sideways looks when I suggested arrangement changes.

But Elvis? Elvis was all business. Professional. Controlled. As if that night outside my apartment had never happened. As if his hands hadn't burned through my dress, his voice rough with need. As if he hadn't promised "soon" and "when things settle" and all those other sweet half-truths I was starting to doubt.

I told myself to be patient. Priscilla was still at Graceland. Things were complicated. He had to be professional. But at night, alone in my apartment, those reasonable thoughts offered little comfort.

"You need your hair done, honey," my next-door neighbor Mrs. Patterson said one morning as I was collecting my mail. She was new to the building, recently divorced, and had taken it upon herself to "help" me settle in. "I know just the place. Lucille’s - best salon in town. They know how to handle hair like yours."

I touched my unruly curls self-consciously. The humidity had been winning lately.

“They're not too expensive?"

"Oh no, quite reasonable. And they take walk-ins on Thursdays."

That's how I found myself going to Lucille’s on a sticky Thursday afternoon.

The bell jangled above my head - one of those tinny, brass things that somehow manages to sound cheerful and ominous at the same time. The smell hit me first: peroxide, perm solution, hairspray thick enough to choke on. But underneath it all was something else. Something like gardenias and honeysuckle.

Priscilla's perfume.

The usual salon chatter died faster than a summer romance. Through the sudden silence, I could hear the whir of hair dryers, the steady drip of a leaky faucet, the hammering of my own heart. And there she was, reflected in every mirror like some kind of multiplying nightmare - Priscilla Presley herself, perfectly poised under a dryer hood.

Time did that funny thing it does in moments of pure horror – stretching like taffy, making each second feel like an eternity. I could see every detail with excruciating clarity: the precise way her eyebrows arched, the perfect curve of her mouth, the slight tilt of her head that made her look down at you even when she was sitting.

When our eyes met in the mirror, I saw something shift in her face. Like a mask slipping just enough to show what was underneath. She'd been waiting for this, I realized. Maybe not here, maybe not today, but sometime.

"Oh." Her voice carried over the hair dryers, honey-sweet and twice as sticky. "The new backup singer. How... enterprising of you to find your way here."

“I was just leaving,” I stammered.

“Not only do you have designs on my husband, you now want my hairdresser, too!”

Every head turned. The stylist working on a blue-haired lady's perm froze mid-roll.

"I'm sorry," I started. "I can leave. I didn’t know–" I reached for the door handle and missed. Humiliated. 

"That this was where I go?" Her laugh tinkled like broken glass. "Don't apologize. It's actually perfect timing. I've been so curious about the girl everyone's talking about." She examined her reflection, adjusting a roller with precise movements. "Though I must say, up close, you're not quite what I expected."

Someone near the shampoo station whispered "Lord have mercy." Three women by the magazines crossed themselves. I heard a comb drop, its sound like a gunshot.

"Really, I should go," I said, turning toward the door. 

"Oh, but you just got here." Her smile was pure poison honey. 

My stomach dropped. She smiled, seeing it land. "I'm not—" I swallowed hard. "This isn't—"

"Let me guess." Priscilla's voice went softer, more deadly. "You're different. Special. You understand him like no one else can." She laughed, the sound sharp as razors. "Does he still use that line? Or has he moved on to something else?"

The manicurist dropped her file. The receptionist wasn't even pretending not to listen anymore. It seemed as if the entire salon held its breath. Even the hair dryers hummed quieter.

"He's not—" I started, but she wasn't finished.

"You're staying in that little complex off Marquis, aren't you? That’s where they always stay." 

I was nowhere near Marquis. But my cheeks were so flushed and my heart pumping so loud, I wasn't able to speak. All I saw were fifteen sets of eyes, unblinking, trained on me. The receptionist was practically vibrating with the effort of not running to the phone. Two women by the magazines were staring, open-mouthed.

"And now think you're helping him with his music?" Now her voice had an edge, like she'd forgotten her audience for just a moment. "That's what he does. Finds sweet little things who think they can save him with their... understanding." She practically spit the last word. "Meanwhile, he's probably already got another one lined up in Nashville. Or Vegas. Or wherever he's running to next."

"Mrs. Whitfield!" the blue-haired lady stage-whispered to her friend. "Call Martha. She needs to hear this!"

I gripped my purse strap so hard my knuckles went white. 

"Now that's enough."

The voice belonged to a regal woman under the dryer next to Priscilla's. She lifted the hood, every pearl around her ebony neck gleaming like armor.

"Mrs. King." Priscilla's voice had that careful tone people use when they know they've gone too far. "I was just having a friendly chat with—"

"Girl," Mrs. Lucille King cut in, "I have known that boy since he was singing in church basements. Known you since you were barely more than a child yourself." She adjusted her pearls with dignified precision. "And I know the difference between drawing blood and drawing attention."

Priscilla's perfect composure cracked, just slightly. Then, with deliberate care, she stood.

"You're right, of course." Her smile could have frozen hell. "I apologize for any... unpleasantness. Riley, we'll reschedule. I seem to have developed a headache."

She gathered her purse, not bothering to remove the rollers. As she passed me, her perfume wrapped around us both like a cage. The bell jangled as she left, somehow managing to sound like the end of something.

"Honey." Lucille's voice cut through my daze. "Come sit by me. We're going to fix what the good Lord gave you, and forget what the devil just stirred up." She paused. "At least until it hits the church prayer circle. Which should be... oh, about fifteen minutes from now."

Three hours later, I emerged with my curls tamed into something that could handle the humidity. But Priscilla's words followed me home, echoing with every step.

*

By late afternoon, it seemed like every woman in Memphis had heard about the showdown at Lucille’s. You could practically hear the story spreading, phone lines burning with the details - how Priscilla had held court under that dryer, how Lucille King had come to my defense, how Elvis Presley's wife and Elvis Presley's... whatever I was... had squared off between the shampoo stations and hairspray shelves.

The whispers followed me home from the salon, even with my newly tamed curls. At the corner market, Mrs. Henley - who'd been perfectly friendly yesterday - suddenly found the canned goods fascinating when I passed. Her friend Mrs. Durham actually crossed herself, like being the other woman was catching. Their voices carried as I pretended to study tomatoes:

"Bold as brass, showing up at Leonard's..." 

"...and Lucille King taking her side! Times sure are changing..." 

"...but what about poor Priscilla? In her condition and all..."

That last bit made me pause. In her condition? But before I could process it, the florist - who'd been watching this little drama unfold - called out that they were closing early. At 3 PM. On a Thursday.

Memphis was choosing sides, and it wasn't choosing mine.

I decided to walk home instead of calling a cab. Bad decision. The humidity pressed down like a wet wool blanket, and every passing car felt like it was slowing to stare. One actually was - a blue Buick full of what had to be church ladies, their beehive hairdos perfectly unmoved by the weather, their eyes sharp as they took my measure.

About halfway home, sweat making my new hairdo droop, a familiar black Cadillac pulled alongside. Not Elvis' - this one belonged to Red.

"Get in," he said through the open window. "You shouldn't be walking alone right now."

I slid into the blessed air conditioning. Red's face was grim.

"News travels fast," I said.

"Like lightning in a dry forest." He navigated through the afternoon traffic with practiced ease. "Boss is... well. Let's just say the Colonel's got his hands full right now."

"Is he..." I trailed off, not sure what I was asking. Is he angry? Worried? Coming to see me?

"He's Elvis," Red said, which could have meant anything. "But listen - you might wanna lay low for a bit."

"I can handle a few dirty looks."

"It ain't just looks I'm worried about." He pulled up to my building. "Promise me you'll keep your doors locked tonight?"

That sent a chill down my spine despite the heat. "Red, what aren't you telling me?"

He studied the steering wheel like it held secrets. "Last time Elvis had a... special friend... in Memphis? Lady found her tires slashed. Sugar in the gas tank. Real Old Testament stuff." His eyes met mine. "People get real jealous around here. Just be careful, okay?"

I nodded, but as I climbed the stairs to my apartment, his warning echoed in my head. My hands shook slightly as I unlocked the door - all three locks. The apartment felt different somehow. Smaller. Less like a sanctuary and more like a target.

The phone started ringing the moment I walked in.

"Lord have mercy." It was Ginger. "I just heard. You went to Lucille’s? Are you insane?"

"I didn't know—"

"Honey, everyone knows that's Priscilla's salon. Has been since '63." She paused. "Although word is, Lucille King put her in her place something fierce."

"You heard already?"

"Girl, my hairdresser's cousin's best friend works the front desk there. I knew about it before you'd finished getting your hair done." Another pause. "But that's not why I'm calling. Listen - some of the old church crowd is real worked up. Mrs. Whitfield - you know, from First Baptist? - she's organizing some kind of prayer circle. For your soul."

"My soul is fine, thanks."

"It's not funny, Valerie. These women... they take this stuff seriously. Real seriously." She lowered her voice. "And there's something else. A rumor going around about Priscilla. About why she's still in town..."

But before she could finish, the line dropped. Just as I was about to redial, the phone rang again.

It was Jerry this time, his voice tight with tension. "Boss is on the warpath. Broke three vases at Graceland, fired two of us, and told the Colonel to go fuck himself. Which, honestly? About time on that last one." He tried to laugh but it came out wrong. "Just... maybe don't answer your door tonight?"

The calls kept coming. Sophie. Donna. Even Mary, her usual cool professionalism cracking enough to warn me that "things were getting complicated." Each one trying to prepare me for something they could feel coming but couldn't quite name.

Between calls, I paced. The apartment felt like it was shrinking, the walls closing in with each pass of the phone's ring. Outside, the sun started to set, painting my windows blood red. In the distance, I could hear church bells - First Baptist, probably, calling its flock to Thursday night prayer meeting. Probably to pray for my immortal soul.

That's when the first rock hit my window.

It didn't break the glass - just a warning shot, you might say. But the message was clear enough. Through the curtains, I could see shapes moving in the parking lot. Women's voices carried up, sharp with righteousness:

"Jezebel!" 

"Homewrecker!" 

"Leave them alone!"

I didn't bother calling the police. What would I say? Help, Elvis Presley's fan club is mad at me? Instead, I turned off all the lights and sat in the dark, listening to the voices below. They faded eventually, but the fear didn't.

Around nine, my next-door neighbor - the one who'd suggested Lucille’s in the first place - slipped a note under my door: "Sorry. Didn't know it was her day. But maybe you should have?"

The sounds of Memphis at night filtered through my walls - distant traffic, a train whistle, somebody's radio playing "Suspicious Minds" like a cruel joke. I sat in my reading chair for hours, still wearing my salon-fresh hair and pride-stained dress, waiting for... something. The other shoe to drop. The next rock to hit. The world to end.

It was well after 2 am when I heard it. The distinctive rumble of a Cadillac engine, followed by the slam of a car door that sounded like judgment day. Heavy footsteps on the stairs - taking them two at a time from the sound of it. Then the pounding started.

"Open the goddamn door, Valerie!"

Elvis's voice carried down the hallway like thunder. A door opened down the hall - Mrs. Patterson again, probably calling the building manager. Perfect. Just what I needed - witnesses to this particular scene in the ongoing soap opera of my life.

When I opened the door, he nearly fell in - a bundle of barely contained fury in black leather despite the heat. His eyes were wild, pupils pinned to nothing.

"I'm going to fucking kill her," he snarled, pacing my small living room like a caged tiger. All that coiled energy had to go somewhere. "What she said to you... how dare she... in public..."

"Keep your voice down," I said, even though it was far too late for that. "The neighbors—"

"Fuck the neighbors!"

But he lowered his voice to something more dangerous - that deadly whisper that meant real trouble, not just show trouble. He knocked a book off my coffee table. One of his books. 

"She had no goddamn right—"

"Actually, she had every right."

He stopped pacing. The sudden stillness was worse than the motion.

"What?"

"She's your wife, Elvis." The words tasted like copper. I sniffled back a tear. I couldn’t help it. "Your wife. Who has to read about her husband's new girlfriend in the papers. Who has to hear gossip about late-night visits to some apartment in East Memphis—"

"Are you defending her?" His eyes were fractured glass. "After what she did to you today?"

"I'm trying to understand her!"

"She humiliated you on purpose!"

"And you let her!" The words exploded out of me, surprising us both. 

"I'll handle Priscilla."

"How? By not divorcing her?"

"You knew the situation when—"

"No, YOU knew the situation." My voice cracked like a whip. "I can handle a whole lotta bullshit, Elvis. But I don’t know if I’m cut out for you still being married." I gestured around my empty apartment, at all the shadows where dreams used to live. "It makes me look bad while you play house with a woman who hates you."

He flinched. "Priscilla doesn't hate me."

"Oh, yes she does. She hates you, Elvis. And if you haven't noticed, you're blinder than I thought." I laughed, but it wasn't funny. "She's got her life in California. You've got yours here. So why keep up this charade? What are you so afraid of?"

"I ain’t afraid of anything," he snapped, but something flickered in his eyes. Something like truth trying to get out.

"Then explain it to me. Because - God damn, Elvis - you're choosing misery with her over happiness with me, and I can't figure out why."

"You don't understand—"

"Then make me! Give me one good reason why you won't divorce her. One honest answer instead of all this Colonel horseshit about timing and image and—"

"She might be pregnant!"

The words hung in the air like smoke. Through the window - the one with the spiderweb crack - I could see the moon hanging low over Memphis. Fat and yellow, like it was watching our little drama with unholy interest.

"What?" My voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

He sank onto my couch, suddenly looking older. Tired. His hands were shaking so bad he could barely light his cigarette. The pills had him wired wrong tonight - I could tell by the way his eyes wouldn't quite focus, the way he kept starting sentences and losing them halfway through. 

"The last night in Vegas. After the final show. I was... I wasn't..." He stopped, started again. "The stuff was hitting wrong. Everything was spinning. I couldn't... I don't really remember…"

The implications of what he wasn't saying made my stomach turn. But he pushed on, words tumbling out like he needed to get them gone.

"Next morning she was there. In my bed. Said we... said I..." He looked up then, his eyes lost. "The papers were all ready. For the divorce. Then she tells me... tells me she might be..."

That's when he saw the window. The crack running through it like a question mark.

"What the hell?" He was up again, moving too fast, nearly stumbling. "Did someone... who did this? Was it those church ladies? Those sanctimonious cunts with their prayer circles and their—" He stopped. "You're not safe here."

"I'm fine."

He stood there in my small apartment, undone by his own choices. Through the cracked window, I could see his reflection fractured into pieces - like the man himself, broken into too many versions to count.

He moved toward me, hands reaching. Those hands that could make a guitar weep, that could make a crowd scream, that could make me forget everything but him. "Baby, please. I love you."

"Get out." I stepped back. His eyes were wild now, desperate. The pills wearing off, reality setting in. "Go home to your wife, Elvis. Or what might be the mother of your child."

"Val—"

"Get. Out."

The last two words came out like bullets. He flinched as if they'd hit flesh.

After he left, I sank to the floor, my back against the door. Through the thin walls, I could hear my neighbors pretending they hadn't heard every word. Their silence felt like judgment.

The cracked window threw moonlight across my coffee table where his copy of The Prophet lay. Inside, I knew, he'd written questions in the margins about parallel universes. About other worlds where choices were different, where timing was better, where love was enough.

But this wasn't that world.

This was Memphis, where Elvis Presley might have made a baby with his wife the night before he told me he loved me. Memphis, where good Christian ladies threw rocks through other women's windows. Memphis, where I was just another girl in just another apartment, learning the hard way that some loves hurt more than they heal.

Tomorrow I'd have to go to the studio. Have to stand next to him, sing harmony like nothing had changed. Have to watch him, love him, hate him, all at once.

But tonight?

Tonight I just let myself cry.

Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit  @ellie-24  @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain  @be-my-ally  @vintageshanny  @prompted-wordsmith @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather  @atleastpleasetelephone @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @eapep @elvispresleywife @that-hotdog @landlockedmermaid77 @sissylittlefeather @kawaiiwitchy

[demigodsanswer]

Twice Upon a Pointe: 8/13

The Sleeping Beauty

This is one of, if not the most heavily revised chapter from the original version. It comes in at about 9,000 words. I hope you enjoy!

Percy’s heart was pounding when he woke up. He was sure he had an anxiety nightmare, but the details of it were already fading. They were all usually the same – he would leave his apartment too late, the subway would get stuck underground, something – everything – would keep him from getting to the theater on time. In the dreams, he never got to the theater at all before waking up; he always ended up stuck in a tunnel or in a car accident woefully distant from Lincoln Center.

This morning was no different.

He rolled out of bed, turned off his alarm, and dragged himself into the kitchen. His stomach felt too restless for food, but he knew he needed it. He blended some fruit together with protein powder to get him started, before heading back into his bedroom for his morning routine. 

As a dancer, he had to care for his body the way a musician cared for their instrument. Every morning was the same, but on performance days, he was particularly meticulous. He started with a calm, fluid yoga flow, breathing carefully to settle his nerves. His muscles warmed up slowly. Aching joints popped as he moved. Then, once he felt alive and most of his smoothie was gone, he shifted to pilates. He’d do more at the studio to warm up for class, but he liked to make sure his legs and glutes were stretched out and warm first thing, and that his abs were working. Then push ups for his arms, then some calf raises for his feet and legs. He usually finished in an hour, but today, he let himself do whatever he needed to feel warm and limber. He stepped out of his room already sweaty an hour and a half later. He stopped in the kitchen for some water before a shower. 

His mom had circled today's date on their wall calendar, and written SB in bright pink marker. His family’s tickets were under a fridge magnet, waiting for them to leave for the theater in about twelve hours. Percy would leave hours ahead of them, though, heading to the theater by himself for the last class and rehearsal they would have.

As he waited for his coffee to brew, he heard his mom walk into the kitchen. She offered to make him lunch for the day, an offer that Percy graciously accepted.

Before she started to cook, she pulled Percy into a hug. “You’re going to be amazing,” she told him. 

“What if I’m not?” He asked. 

“You’ve already done it once,” she said, “so you can do it again.”

~

Two hours later, Percy’s stomach had settled, mixing nervousness with excitement as the 1 train pulled into his stop.

Class was on the stage again, as it usually was on performance days. The house was lit up, so Percy could see all the empty seats that, before long, would be filled with waiting audience members. 

Annabeth smiled at him when he walked onto the stage, and excitement overtook nervousness for just a moment. He took a spot at the barre next to her. She looked wide awake, her eyes bright. As he stepped next to her, her smile only got wider. 

“Are you excited?” She asked, her own excitement palpable. 

With a wavering voice he said, “Yeah.” 

She placed her hand over his on the barre, and stepped closer, so their chests were nearly pressed together. With their hands still curved around the barre, she laced their fingers together as best she could. 

“It’s just you and me,” she said. 

Percy nodded, and was about to find something to say, when he felt eyes on them. Most people were minding their business, but Ethan, one of Luke’s old buddies, was staring at them. Annabeth shot him a dirty look before turning back to Percy. He thought she might just kiss him, right there, just to prove something. But she stayed still, trying to ignore Ethan’s look. 

“It’s just you and me,” Percy reminded her. Her smile returned. Almost giddy with excitement, she pulled him into a hug, and she didn’t seem to care at all about who was watching.  

~ 

On his lunch break, Percy walked a few blocks to find a flower shop. He picked up a dozen pink roses. 

“Someone special?” The florist asked.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling into the bouquet, “she is.”

~ 

Percy hid the flowers in his own dressing room until it was nearly show time. They’d been running a few last minute things on stage, and had only just run off to go get ready. He knocked on her door. Annabeth was already dressed in her act one costume when she opened the door. She was wearing the same costume he’d seen her in for rehearsal, but the anticipation of the performance seemed to make her glow. She ballet personified, in her pink pancake tutu, pink tights, bun, and tiny tiara. He couldn’t even manage to say something when he saw her. Annabeth Chase was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

She smiled when she saw the flowers. 

“Percy …?” 

“They’re for you,” he said, holding them out to her, finally finding his voice and picking his jaw up off the floor. “A congratulations, a thank you, and a good luck.” 

She took them, smiling wide. “A thank you? For what?” She walked further into her dressing room and walked over to a table that already had a bouquet of flowers – these ones were multicolored and already in a vase. She picked it up and put it on the floor, making room for Percy’s vase instead. 

Percy shrugged. “For everything. You’ve been such a good friend and partner these last few weeks,” he said, wandering into her dressing room, closing the door behind him.

“If anyone should be doing the thanking, Percy, it’s me,” she said, turning towards him. “I couldn’t have gotten through these last few weeks without you.” Percy tried to shrug it off, but she said, “I’m serious. You’re a dear friend. I hope … “ Percy stepped closer, “I hope it’s not just for the ballet.” 

“Our friendship?” Percy asked. She nodded. “Of course not. Annabeth, you,” he rested a hand on her face. “You mean more to me … I mean, I’ve told you things …” 

He felt her hands make their way into his hair, still a messy tangle of black curls he’d need to gel down before long. He started to lean down, and she started to lean up. 

Then the door opened. They heard Piper yelp, before shutting the door behind her. Annabeth pulled away, her face, still free of stage makeup, bright red. Percy felt similar. He should still go for it, he thought, just reach out and kiss her. But the moment was gone. Anything now would just be a distraction. 

“Who else sent you flowers?” He asked, trying to ignore the moment they’d shared. 

“My family,” she said.

“Are they coming tonight?”

“My dad is. My stepmom and brothers can’t make it, though.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, I won’t miss them,” she fluffed Percy’s roses a bit. “They’re beautiful,” she said, still turned away from him. She turned back and walked towards him, her arms open.

Percy, praying to every possible god that he didn’t misunderstand the gesture, pulled her in close for a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered into his chest. 

With her pressed so close to him, he could feel her heart being fast. He wondered if she could feel his matching the tempo.

“You’re going to do great,” he said, rubbing her back.

She pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, but close enough still to keep her arms around him. “ We’re going to do great,” she said, smiling. It sounded like a promise.

~

Piper was standing outside, still not dressed, but hair and makeup done. “You know that’s my dressing room too, right?” She asked. Percy blushed, and she didn’t wait for an answer. “What is going on with you two?” 

Percy ran a hand through his hair. “I have no idea,” he said honestly. 

Piper looked at him, confused, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You two were just kissing --” 

“Almost kissing,” Percy said. 

“Well it’s not like you haven’t done that before.” The look on Percy’s face must have been crystal clear. “You haven’t? But she …” Piper lowered her voice. “She told me you spent the night at her house the other day?” 

“Yeah but we didn’t --” 

Piper put her hands on his shoulders and seemed to almost double over, before she started laughing. “Oh my god, you two had a sleepover?” Percy ears were red. “Dude, I thought you two have been …” she trailed off, her mouth open. “And you haven’t?” Percy shook his head. They hadn’t kissed, they hadn’t fucked. They’d maybe gone on a date, but he wasn’t sure. “And I just ruined what was sure to be a beautiful first kiss?” Percy nodded. She looked genuinely sorry when she apologized. 

~

Percy stepped out of his dressing room as the overture began. He had nearly an hour before he was needed on stage, but he wanted to see Piper and Annabeth perform in the prologue and act one. There wasn’t a better seat in the house than the one he got – right in the wings, only ten feet away; the easiest place to support your friends.

When he got to the side of the stage, he saw Annabeth practicing her balances – one hand was on a barre, one leg was back in attitude, and she would lift her arm off the barre and into fifth position every few seconds. She was hardly shaking. She was strong.

When she finally dropped down, satisfied with her backstage performance, Percy walked over.

“You’re steady as a rock,” he said.

The wide smile and excitement from that morning were now covered by a layer of pre-show nerves that were painted on her face. He knew they would melt away once she stepped into the spotlight and heard the music, but he wished he could take them away from her now.

“I just hope I do it right.” 

Percy held out a hand. She stepped up onto pointe, grabbing Percy’s hand as she raised her right leg in attitude, her other arm up in fifth. She let go of his hand after a moment to  lift her arm to match the other. She stayed stayed, then took his hand again. “You’ve already done it once,” he said, “you can do it again.” 

She came down off of releve , and took both of his hands in hers. “Thank you.” Her smile looked less forced this time.

~

Percy gave Annabeth some space as she prepared to take the stage for the adagio. From his place about ten feet downstage of her, he watched her take a few deep breaths, roll her neck from side to side, and shake out her hands, as if the nerves would fly out of her fingertips.

Finally, the music to her entrance started.

Percy didn’t envy her entrance at all. They’d nicknamed it Jaws, because the music had that threatening dun-dun quality to it, and the dance started at such a rapid pace, you might as well be getting chased by a shark. “It’s like I’m being shot out of a cannon,” she had complained to him once. 

But she looked effervescent, truly like a sixteen-year-old ready to celebrate her birthday. Her smile was wide, her arm movements controlled but long and exuberant. She hit every mark, every beat, not that he expected anything else. His heart raced watching her, and he thought about his sister in the audience. How wide-eyed she must be to watch the woman who was in their apartment just a few weeks ago dance like this on stage at Lincoln Center. Percy wasn’t even a ten-year-old girl and he felt inspired just watching her. She was a real artist. He had a feeling Luke’s name was already fading from people’s memories, but Annabeth would be one of those dancers the culture remembered for a long, long time. 

When the music for the adagio started a few minutes later, she looked perfectly calm in her element. Annabeth ran to the woman playing her mother. What should I do? She mimed. Dance with them! The mother told her. Ah, yes, I’ll dance with them! 

Dancers joked that if you ever had a perfect performance, you should retire the next day. There was no such thing as a flawless performance. Percy had never had one, nor seen one. 

But as Annabeth stepped onto pointe for the final set of balances without hesitation or the slightest shake in her ankle, Percy thought Annabeth might just have hers. And even if she messed up everything in acts two and three, it wouldn’t matter. She had nailed the adagio.

Annabeth stood tall and steady, taking each prince’s hand in her own time, balancing in between them as if her toes were glued to the floor and her body was suspended from the ceiling. She held her balance for so long in between the men, Percy realized, that she had forced the orchestra to wait for her. The conductor looked on, the tempo slowing, dragging the music out, waiting for her to drop her hand into her next partner’s, rather than cuing her to take the next step.

Percy smiled, anxious to hug her and congratulated her.

Finally, Annabeth rolled down off point, for the final few steps of the adagio, smiling wide at her own achievement.

Act one finished without any disasters – Annabeth pricked her finger and collapsed and was carried off stage and Piper closed the act.

Travis had to carry Annabeth off stage; once they were in the wings, he stood her back up, offering her praise. Percy rushed to her, not waiting for her to catch her breath or for the curtain to drop. Her face and chest were sweaty, and she was breathing hard, but her smile was wide and triumphant.

He pulled her into a tight hug, mumbling “you were fantastic” into her bun. She laughed and bounced up and down like she was a child again.  

“I have to get changed,” she said, pulling away from him to head towards her dressing room.

Percy did a quick pirouette in the wings, getting around four times before landing clean. Then he did a silly little two-step dance to celebrate, the way he would when he was a child.

For the first time all day – for the first time since rehearsal began - he felt ready for his debut.

~

When the curtain rose, it always blew a gust of wind back on the dancers posed to start. It was Percy's favorite part. The breeze always shook him, washing over him like a blessing. He had to close his eyes to the wind, and when he opened them, the stage lights were bright, blocking his view of the audience. 

Percy's entrance was much quieter than Annabeth’s, but it wasn’t long before he was alone on a dark stage, taking his solo. This was his introduction to the audience, and he needed to captivate them right away. He didn’t have a fairy dress or pointe shoes, he just had a simple prince costume, the stage to himself, and about two minutes of slow, graceful movements.

“Who is the prince?” Mr. D, had asked Percy in an early rehearsal. “What is he like?”

“The prince is a bit of a lost soul,” Percy responded. “There’s a longing for something else, whether that is love or some other excitement, he just wants something more than the material life he has been born into. He finds that something else with Aurora.”

His solo is the chance for the audience to see that longing, that desire.

Percy had not ever had much of a material life himself, but he understood that deep longing for love and something more than what he had.

He didn’t fear taking up space on the stage – it had been left empty for him. Soon, the Lilac Fairy would fill it, dream Aurora would enter, and the Prince would find the meaning and purpose in his life. But in this lonely moment, Percy could only rely on himself. He thought about Annabeth, standing so tall on two toes, forcing the orchestra to wait for her to be done, and he borrowed some of her confidence, and mixed it with his own desires and longings.

He felt his body begin to sweat as he moved it through the choreography, but it didn’t bother him at all. He relished the feeling of working his body to its limits – turning faster, stretching farther, lifting his partners higher. The choreography wasn’t in his mind; it was in his body, in his heart. He didn’t stand on the stage and think “arabesque into pirouette,” he just thought about the Prince, and his journey, and the storytelling. His body did the steps without him thinking about them, but he, the sum of all of his parts, told the story. Sweat tickled behind his knees and under his arms, and his lungs burned from the movement, but he didn’t stop, he didn’t rest, he didn’t falter.

He stretched his leg back farther, he turned faster, and then –

He stopped with the music, trying not to breathe too heavily as the scene continued.

When he heard the audience applaud for him at the end of his variation, the memory of what he had done was already fading, as memories of his own performances often did, but when he looked stage left to where Piper would enter, he saw Chiron smiling at him, and he knew he had done well.

~

As act two came to an end, Percy stepped up onto the bed Annabeth was “sleeping” on, ready to wake her up with one perfect kiss.

Percy mustered up his courage, and, in a voice loud enough that she could hear, but subtle enough that no one would see his lips move, he whispered: “You’re my dream girl.”

He felt her smile against his lips at the joke. When she sat up, he could tell she was straining to either not laugh or not yell at him. He didn’t mind either way.

~

They stood on opposite sides of the stage for their third act entrance. From the other side, Annabeth blew him a kiss. He caught it in his hand, and mimed putting it in his pocket. He blew one back, and she turned her head to catch it on her cheek. From behind her, he watched Piper mouth to him what the fuck? 

The music started. They made their entrances and met in the middle. Annabeth’s smile for this act wasn’t as wide as it was in act one. Now it was more regal, refined. There was love, but she -- Aurora -- was becoming a queen. And she had to show it. 

The wedding pas passed in a blur. But he knew they were hitting all of their marks. 

As Annabeth held herself up in the final fish dive of the wedding scene, Percy thought we should both retire tomorrow.

~ 

When the curtain fell after bows, Percy turned to Annabeth. As she jumped up for a hug, Percy lifted her off the floor, spinning her around. 

“The tulle,” Piper said behind them. “Silena’s gonna claw your eyes out if you crush the tutu.” Percy set Annabeth down and just scooped Piper up instead. Soon they were in a big three person hug. Percy made a note to bring Silena extra cookies to apologize for whatever they were doing to their costumes. 

~ 

Chiron sent them home, told them to rest up. He’d send along any notes in the morning. “Most of all, congratulations. You should all be very,” he looked at Percy and Annabeth, “ very happy.” 

Percy changed fast, wiping off his makeup and hanging up his costume. His parents would be in the lobby waiting for him. He just about ran out to meet them. His mother screamed in excitement when she saw him, her voice echoing through the mostly-empty lobby. She had tears on her face, he could see. It almost made him misty eyed. He ran to hug her. Soon Estelle and Paul joined in. Estelle pulled away first. 

“You stink,” she said. 

“You will too in a few years when it’s your turn to do Aurora,” he said. She beamed. 

“Percy, that was amazing,” his mom said, holding onto his arms. “You’ve always been so good, but that --” she cut herself off by hugging her again. 

“We’re very proud of you,” Paul said. 

“Where’s Annabeth?” Estelle asked. Percy searched for her. She said she’d find them in the lobby after she met up with her dad. (“I care about Estelle way more than my dad. I’ll be sure to find you,” she promised). 

“Oh,” Sally said. She started to wave, then put her hand down. “Who’s she with?” 

“Her da --” Percy started to say as he turned to where Annabeth was standing. She was with a middle aged man with dull brown hair that probably used to be as blonde as hers. But next to her was a more striking head of blonde hair. “Her dad and her ex,” Percy said. 

Sally caught sight of Percy’s expression. She knew him well enough to know the angry look on his face wasn’t simply jealousy. 

“Paul, why don’t you and Estelle wait outside? We’ll let Annabeth know where you are,” Sally said. Paul didn’t seem to understand what exactly was happening, but he ushered Estelle out anyway. Percy watched them stop at the souvenir stand, instead of going right out. 

Annabeth caught Percy’s eye, a clear look of help me on her face. Percy didn’t need to say anything to his mom, before she was on her way over to them. 

“Hi,” she said cheerfully. She introduced herself to Annabeth’s dad, and then lavished Annabeth with praise. She barely acknowledged Luke any more than she needed to. Percy certainly didn’t. Luke wasn’t quick to compliment him either. If Fred Chase noticed the tension, he wasn’t showing it. 

“Lovely to meet you Sally,” Fred said, “and amazing work Annie. I better head out.” Annabeth looked at her father, a pleading look on her face that he didn’t seem to register. 

When Frederick was gone, Luke turned to her. “We should also go,” he said, holding a hand out to Annabeth. If he was trying to trap her through politie social conventions, he was unsuccessful. 

Annabeth glared daggers into him, and she shifted her body away. At first, Percy thought she was just recoiling, but then he spotted her hand ready to come up and slap him, her face twisting in disgust at the mere suggestion of her going home with him. 

Sally noticed Annabeth’s intentions too, and simply grabbed Annabeth’s hand, as if Annabeth had been reaching for her. Sally rested her other hand on Annabeth’s other arm, pulling her back away from Luke. 

 “I’m so sorry … Luke, was it? Annabeth, we’re going to be late,” she gave Annabeth a moment to nod. 

“Is it that late already?” Annabeth asked. “So sorry, Luke, we need to go.” 

Luke’s eyes turned dark and fixed on Percy, then back to Annabeth. His mom had a familiar sweet smile she’d always used when placating Gabe. “Alright. I’ll see you later then.” Percy saw his mother’s eyes narrow as Annabeth started to say “no,” but Luke just turned on his heels and headed out the door before either woman could say anything. 

Annabeth let out a heavy, shaking breath. Sally pulled her in close. 

“Sweetheart, does that man know where you live?” 

Annabeth nodded. 

“You’re going to stay with us tonight,” Sally told her. “We have everything a recovering dancer could ever need, and I’m sure Estelle will give you her bed.” 

Annabeth didn’t protest or even try to politely decline. “Thank you,” she said. 

~ 

They left Lincoln Center, Estelle sporting a new tee shirt and hoodie combination that Percy probably could have stolen for her. Annabeth was quiet as they left. They spotted Luke on the stairs, talking to a few old friends. He glanced their way, but Annabeth kept her head down as Ethan shouted after her. “Great work tonight Annabeth!” He yelled. If he wasn’t standing so close to Luke, Percy would assume it was genuine. He felt Annabeth slip her hand into his. Don’t let me fall, she seemed to say. Percy squeezed her hand. I’ve got you, he promised. 

“I need to finish this,” Annabeth whispered to Percy. 

“Mom, we’ll meet you at home,” Percy said, as Annabeth dropped his hand and started towards Luke. 

Sally shooed Paul and Estelle further down the stairs before turning to Percy. “Whatever you do, do not get arrested or hurt, Percy. You aren’t a child anymore.” Percy just nodded and jogged over to where Luke had met Annabeth. 

He was already going on and on when Percy got there. Annabeth’s face was soft, receptive, almost loving. Percy resisted the urge to shake her out of whatever trance Luke had put her into. 

“I’ve spent all week just trying to find you, Annie. I’ve missed you so much,” he pulled a ring box out of his pocket, and opened it. Inside was the ruby and diamond ring he’d seen her wear for almost a year straight. “It belongs to you. I want you to have it. And when you’re ready, maybe we can talk about …” Luke glanced at Percy, venom in his eyes, “things.” 

“Luke, I …” Annabeth’s voice was gentle and sweet. Like she was actually believing this garbage. 

“Annabeth?” Percy said, trying to bring her back to reality. But she just held out her hand, waiting for Luke to put her engagement ring back on. 

Her right hand, Percy clocked. Luke didn’t seem to catch it, though, as he slipped the ring on. 

Annabeth stared down at it, before covering her right hand with her left in front of her stomach. Percy watched the fingers of her left hand fiddle with the ring. She still wore that soft look of love, and Luke looked back at her with the same affection. 

“Annie … “ He started. 

“Luke,” her voice was so sickly sweet Percy could have puked on the steps. He watched Annabeth smile like her dreams were coming true, and say, in that same lovely, soft voice, “that’s not my name.” 

“What?” Luke asked, pulling away. Luke had forgotten just how talented a performer Annabeth Chase really is.  

“And please, please,” she kept up the voice, “from the bottom of my heart. Go fuck yourself.” 

She had turned the ring so the jewel was on the inside of her hand. Sally wasn’t here this time to hold her back as Annabeth’s open palm, ring and all, hit Luke’s cheek. 

Luke nearly fell over at the blow. He hunched, cupping his cheek as he called Annabeth a bitch loud enough for his friends a few feet away to hear him. Percy looked past Luke to the group. Ethan looked horrified, but Travis and Connor were grinning like dogs, like they’d just been waiting for someone to finally do it.

“Hell yeah, Annabeth!” He heard Connor yell. 

Annabeth only got closer to Luke, her voice low enough that only Luke and Percy could hear. The ruby had cut his cheek, and a thin drop of blood slid down it. The love was gone, replaced by a cold, vengeful wrath that Percy could only describe as incredibly fucking hot. 

“We still have your email, Luke. What you sent Percy was illegal. And it wasn’t the only illegal thing you’ve done to me. Remember, you only have your life because I decided to let you keep it. If you keep coming around to the ballet, I might change my mind. So go back to Portland, and leave me alone.” 

Percy started to follow her down the steps, but after only a few, she stopped and turned back to him. She tore the ring off her finger and threw it at him. “And keep your fucking ring!” She yelled back at him. 

Percy stifled a laugh at the indignity of watching a grown man scramble around on the stairs chasing a very expensive ring. 

The two ran quickly down the stairs, and Annabeth was hailing a cab before they’d even made it all the way to the curb. They slid in fast, and Percy rattled off his cross streets. The taxi driver seemed to match their frantic energy as he sped off. 

Annabeth leaned back into the leather of the seat, her face in her hands. A moment later Percy noticed her shoulders shaking. He rested a worried hand on her knee. 

“Annabeth …” 

She moved her hands, and she wasn’t crying. She was laughing. She was hysterical, and it was contagious. Percy started to laugh too. 

“Is your hand okay?” Percy asked through his laughter. 

“Oh yeah,” she held it up and showed him, tears in the corners of her eyes, “that big ass ruby bore the brunt of his cheekbone.” 

Percy started to clap. “Performance of the fucking year. I mean, I thought you were great in Sleeping Beauty, but that was incredible.” 

“Oh,” she sighed, trying to calm her laughter as she wiped at her eyes. “You don’t think this makes me a terrible person?” She asked. 

“No, in fact, I think it was incredibly hot, and if anything you should have hit him harder.”  

~

When they got home, Sally set them up with two ice buckets for their feet and glasses of champagne to celebrate. She didn’t ask what had happened, but she did shoot Percy a thank god you’re not in jail glance.

Percy had offered Annabeth the first shower, and she’d come out looking a lot more relaxed. He’d given her pajamas to wear, silently begging her not to dress in his mother’s clothes. He already lived with her, he didn’t need some added complex. 

Percy found Annabeth in the hallway as he headed towards the bathroom. She was in one of his old basketball tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants tied tight. She was staring at family photos. 

“You were a cute kid,” she said. It was a picture of him at summer camp in some hideous bright orange shirt. “Do you think we would have been friends?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he said without hesitating. 

She turned around to face him, her voice low. “What did you tell your mom about Luke and me?” She asked. 

“Nothing. Just that he was your ex.” Her face told him that she didn’t believe him. “You looked at us like … you needed help. She knew what the look meant. She doesn’t need me to tell her what kind of man he is.” 

Annabeth nodded. “I don’t know how to thank her.” 

Percy pushed a piece of hair out of her face. “You don’t need to.” 

She let out a small laugh as if to say yes, I do. But before she could, Sally called to them. “Annabeth, your ice bucket is ready.” 

A look of relief flooded Annabeth’s face. 

“Go,” Percy told her. “I’ll be there in a minute.” 

When he got back to the living room, Annabeth was showing Estelle her pointe shoes up close. “I won’t wear these again. They’re too dead,” Annabeth said. Annabeth was looking wide-eyed at the shoes, and then back to Annabeth. “You can keep them --” Estelle gasped and shamelessly reached out for them “-- If! You promise you won’t try to wear them.” 

Estelle nodded, holding up her pinky. They pinky swore on it, and Annabeth handed over the shoes. 

Estelle ran off, excited to show Sally. 

“I thought you’d want to keep the opening night pair?” Percy said. He remembered the few pairs of shoes decorating her room with important dates written on them.

“I went through two pairs of shoes tonight,” she reminded him. “No need to keep both.” 

There was a long silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. They just sipped their drinks, watched some reruns of a housewives show, and enjoyed their success. 

“How do you feel?” Percy finally asked. 

“Can I be honest?” 

“Of course.” 

“This is the happiest I've felt in a long time.” 

~ 

Annabeth stayed in Estelle’s room. Estelle had offered the bed without any convincing from their mom, and excitedly took the air mattress into her room. Annabeth had promised to do her hair in the morning in the Balanchine bun style so she could wear it to her own dance class.  

“Nobody believes me when I tell them I know you,” Estelle said. “They’ve even met Percy and they still don’t believe me.” 

“Well,” Annabeth said, looking at Percy, “maybe we’ll drop you off at class tomorrow.” Percy’s heart could have exploded with affection for Annabeth when Estelle jumped into her arms, asking her if she promised to do that. Annabeth did. 

Percy woke up the next morning earlier than he usually would have after a performance. Estelle’s dance class wasn’t until eleven, so it took him a second to figure out what had pulled him from sleep. His eyes focused, finally, on Annabeth shutting his bedroom door, early morning light pouring in through his window, as she talked quietly on the phone. She looked at him, a silent apology in her eyes. 

“I went home with the Jackson’s last night,” she said to the person on the other line. “So?” He heard a man’s voice on the other end, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. Annabeth’s face paled. “Well, I didn’t invite him over last night.” 

Percy sat up, realizing then that he’d slept only in his underwear like he usually did. Annabeth didn’t pay any attention to his bare chest as she sat down on his bed. Closer now, he could start to hear what the man was saying. 

“ -- not fair for you to ignore him like this,” the voice said. 

“Yes it is,” Annabeth said, her voice low but her tone angry. “We aren’t together, he doesn’t live with me, and he has no right to --” 

“You two really can’t just work it out?” 

“No,” Annabeth said simply. She looked at Percy and rolled her eyes, mouthing my father at him. “And I told you I didn’t invite him over. He just showed up at my apartment and spent half the morning harassing you to try and find me.” 

“Don’t be dramatic, Annie.” 

He watched Annabeth clench her jaw and shut her eyes tight, like the only thing keeping her from screaming was the early morning hour. Percy rested a hand on her shoulder, and started to run it up and down her arm in comfort. 

“I just told you my ex-boyfriend followed me home, and you think I’m the dramatic one?” There was a long silence between them. He watched Annabeth take a long, steadying breath, the kind of breath she took right before stepping out on stage. “He wasn’t kind to me, Daddy. There is nothing he can do to win me back. This isn’t the first time he’s tried to … he showed up to dress rehearsal last week and tried to force himself in. Just to harass me. Last night … I don’t know what he would have tried to do if I was home.” 

There was another long silence. “Annabeth, you didn’t tell me --” her father’s voice sounded genuinely sad. 

“You never noticed!” She said, her voice raising a little, before she brought it back down. “Sally Jackson noticed. She took one look at him and figured out what kind of man he was. She’s why I wasn’t home last night.” 

“Who is Sally Jackson?” Her father asked. 

“Percy’s mom.” 

“Who’s Percy?” 

Annabeth groaned, running a finger through her tangled blonde hair. “The man on stage with me last night. You met both of them last night, before you ran off. You couldn’t be bothered to stick around for more than five minutes.” 

“Annie, I understand that you’re mad at me. Maybe we should talk about this more at dinner.” 

There was a fury in her eyes Percy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. She looked like she was trying to turn her father to stone through the phone. “Fine. I’m bringing a copy of my lease. I need to move. As soon as possible.” 

Annabeth hung up the phone before her father could respond. 

Annabeth let out a heavy sigh before turning to Percy. “Sorry for waking you up, I just didn’t know where else to take the call.” 

“No worries,” he said. “I’m proud of you, for being honest with him.” 

“Our relationship is … complicated. He tries. But he doesn’t know what to do with me, and I don’t know what to do with him.” She stood up. Percy started to ask about Luke but she cut him off, changing the subject. “So, this is Percy Jackson’s room?” 

Percy blushed. He didn’t have any sense of interior design, and his room had hardly changed since he was a teenager. Long hours of dance made it really just a place for sleeping more than anything. It was also a mess, with piles of clothes in strange places, dust on the shelves, and clutter and garbage on nearly every surface. He never really noticed these things before, and now he wished he’d taken better care of his space. 

Annabeth started snooping, mostly looking at the few competition medals he still had on display, and the photos on top of his dresser of him and his friends (mostly him and Grover). 

“That one,” Percy pointed to the first medal on the left, “was the first competition I won. It got me the scholarships I needed to get into a better dance program.” Annabeth touched it gently. 

“How long had you been dancing when you won?” She asked. 

“Eight months, about,” he said.

She kept looking at the medals. “You really must be some kind of once-in-a-generation talent.” He could hear the smile and admiration in her voice. 

Percy flushed. “Well, I  ---” 

She turned and put up her hand, stopping him. “I mean it. And don’t argue with me. I’m argued-out for the morning.” 

Percy didn’t know what to say, so he just smiled. He caught Annabeth’s gaze drop down to his bare chest for a moment, before back up, meeting his eyes in awkward eye contact. She smiled coyly. 

“I didn’t realize you were --” naked, Percy assumed she was going to say. 

“I’m not!” He said quickly. “I mean, not completely.” There was a flirty arch to her eyebrow again. 

Annabeth Chase was never one to back down from a challenge. She walked over to his bedside, pulled back the comforter, and glanced at his boxers, before looking back up at him. There was an intense heat deep in Percy’s belly. His finger’s itched with want, and when his eyes met Annabeth’s dark gray ones, he could see she was thinking the same thing. He reached out a hand and rested it on her hip, his fingers slowly moving towards her backside, pulling her in towards him as he felt her up. She closed her eyes gently and took in a deep, approving breath as she reached a hand out, running her fingers through his hair. She leaned forward more, resting a knee on the mattress. Percy thought she might just crawl into his lap. 

“We …” she let her hand fall out of his hair, tracing her fingers along his face as she pulled back. “We shouldn’t.” 

Percy dropped his hand, letting her step back. Over the collar of the tee shirt, he could see that her neck and chest were flushed. His own heart was racing, and every part of him ached with an unsatisfied desire. 

“Yeah,” was all he managed to say, before she turned and headed back out the door. “Annabeth?” He said before she reached the door. She turned to him. “Whenever you’re ready.” He meant it, and from the soft, almost apologetic smile on her face, she understood it. 

Before the door closed, he heard her voice. This time, it rang out in a cheerful and remarkably conspicuous: “Oh! Good morning, Paul!” 

Percy's step-dad opened his door a moment later. He didn’t see Annabeth behind him, and figured she’d run off to hide somewhere. Percy left the comforter turned down to show that he was definitely not naked. 

Before Paul could say anything, Percy said, “I’m twenty-five!” 

Paul tilted his head in confusion. “I know how old you are. I was going to ask you what you wanted with breakfast: sausage or bacon?” 

“Bacon,” Percy said simply. 

Paul started to close the door, and Percy buried his face in his hands. “And Percy?” Percy looked up. “We’re happy for you. She’s a great girl.” 

Percy didn’t have the heart to tell him that, despite everything, Annabeth wasn’t his girl. He just muttered “thanks” and shooed Paul out. I need to move out, he thought as the door finally clicked shut. 

~ 

Reviews for their first performance had been remarkable. Chiron had forwarded a number of them to Percy, Piper, and Annabeth, the subject line of his email was simply “!!!!!!” -- an uncharacteristically unprofessional email that had he and Annabeth grinning like fools while they watched Estelle in her dance class. 

“They’re going to make you a principal for this,” Annabeth said, steady, unshakable confidence in her voice. 

Percy tried to play it cool, but he couldn’t help himself from asking: “Really?” 

Annabeth nodded. “Just don’t drop me in these next three shows, and I bet you and Piper are principals by Summer.” 

Piper had facetimed him then, her smile falling when she saw the two of them in one frame. “You two are hanging out without me?” 

~

After her phone call with her dad, Fred Chase had apparently called Luke himself and threatened to call the police if he showed up at her apartment or the theater again. 

“He listened to my dad,” Annabeth said to Percy before class started. “His usual tricks of sharing my nude photos to punish me wouldn’t exactly work the way he wanted,” she smirked. 

“Are things better with your dad now?” Percy asked her. 

She shrugged. “We had a long conversation about most things. He seems genuinely apologetic, and like he wants to really be in my life again. Honestly, I think your family scooping me up and taking me home was a wake up call for him.” 

Percy smiled, glad he and his family could be that for her and her father. “I hope things improve between you two, really.” 

“Maybe next time he’s in town, I’ll introduce the two of you more formally,” she suggested. 

“I’d love that,” he said. 

~

Their second show was five days later. It wasn’t quite as electric as the first, although it was just as technically sound and artistically beautiful. They both felt like they'd already made it over the most daunting hurdle, and now they just had to keep leaping over the smaller hurdles of the test of technique and stamina that the full-length ballet was. Their second show, the fifth scheduled show overall for the company, did end with rapturous applause, and a few more good reviews and social media comments.  

Their third show had a few more errors than any of them would have liked. Nothing any audience member would have noticed, but quick changes to simpler steps or improvisations here and there to avoid a fall. Percy could feel his body starting to get tired of the demanding dance, and he felt worse for Annabeth and Piper, especially Annabeth, who far and away had the hardest job of any of them. 

But it seemed like the part came so naturally to Annabeth that the physical demands of the ballet hardly touched her at all. She’d always been more classical in her style than most other Balanchine dancers. She was always first in line for parts like Juliet, the swans, or Diamonds. 

But Aurora? He thought as he watched her that third night, a vision he was following across the stage in a blur of purple and blue lights and costumes, she seemed born to play Aurora. She’d never danced it before. New York hadn’t done a full-length Sleeping Beauty since Annabeth was in the corps. She hadn’t even understudied the role back then. As Percy watched her dance her Vision variation, (acting the part of the enraptured, besotted Prince in that moment was the easiest thing he’d ever done in his life) it seemed almost comical that Chiron and everyone else hadn’t thought to put her in this role before. 

He’d seen her do this variation maybe a hundred times now, but it never stopped dazzling him, the way she was able to time the gentle caress of her face with the slow lowering of her leg. Aurora wasn’t just a technical challenge, she was also a remarkable acting challenge. Odette and Odile were fun to play with, the differences between the two swans propelled the ballet forward. Juliet had a whole play’s worth of emotions to draw from. But Aurora was … well, asleep. There wasn’t much to work with there. But Annabeth found it. In her Vision dance, her body seemed to sing along to Tchicovsky’s score. Here I am, it said, I am ready to wake up. Beautiful and strong, she played to the corps, Piper, Percy, and the audience, telling them I am here, I am right here. I am ready, please help me. I want to wake up. So much has happened to me, and I am ready for it to end. I am ready to be a queen. I am ready to rule . 

~

Percy knocked on Annabeth’s dressing room door about half an hour before the show started. She wasn’t in her costume yet, but her hair and makeup were done. This time, he’d asked Piper to give them some privacy. 

“I just wanted to say merde in private,” he said.

Annabeth almost looked sad. So many weeks of work for only four nights. It was hard to say goodbye to it. She walked towards Percy and took his hands, holding them between their bodies. 

“It’s our last show,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve really enjoyed dancing with you. I hope we keep dancing together.”

Percy, in a moment of fleeting confidence, pulled her hands up to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles. “I promise we will.”

Annabeth reached a hand up to his face and stroked his cheek. He would have given up any chance at a principal promotion if he could just know what she was thinking in that moment. He didn’t dare ask her.

She pulled her hand away after a minute.

“I’ll see you out there,” she promised, stepping away from him.

“See you out there,” he said, walking out of the dressing room.

~

Their fourth show had gone, somehow, even better than the first.There had maybe been some mistakes and saves here and there, but their energy was up, and the audience was loving it. Percy fed off of audience responses, and this audience was not shy about offering applause and cheers. 

Before Percy could even really process what a success act two had been, act three was starting. They were back at the Wedding pas, their last one together. 

Annabeth went for her fish dives. She spun fast, and Percy caught her with one arm, and she dropped just as quickly. He heard audience members gasping, but before he could even bask in the response, Percy was pulling Annabeth back up and doing it again, and then again. 

The fast-paced tempos of New York City Ballet were carrying them through, giving them the much needed energy to keep the ballet going right here at the end. Percy felt alive and full of joy. He was hardly even acting. When he looked at Annabeth, his face said it all -- I’m so happy to be here with you. Percy and the Prince felt like one in the same. Annabeth’s facial expressions were always dynamic, shifting with the music and story, but when she caught his gaze for their romantic moments, he could have sworn he saw the same thing. It wasn’t the artificial gaze of Aurora. No, Annabeth was just as happy to be there with him as he was to be with her. 

The coda came on fast after her final variation. Percy jumped up for his triple tours, and then his pirouette . He made it around a clean five times while staying on the music. The audience erupted with applause as Annabeth came out on stage for her portion. She kept her arabesques small to stay on the quick music, but she hit every beat. When they met in the middle, Percy held onto her waist as they went one way and then the other. Annabeth was just holding on for dear life on this step, as he carried her back and forth as she bounced on one leg, and ballonné’d the other. Her smile was jubilant, completely radiant, as if she couldn’t help but show off just how happy she was.

As they finished the wedding scene, Percy suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotions. He wanted a fifth, six, seventh show. But as he took his final bow, he couldn’t do anything but smile. 

~ 

At curtain call, he earned a standing ovation. He had gotten on the previous nights, but the final one brought tears to his eyes. Beckendorf would be healed by the Spring season and would likely take back his roles from Percy. Even if Percy earned a promotion, he was probably going to continue to do most of his partnering with Piper and Katie, as they had for the past three years or so.

But still, he tried not to dwell on the fact that the performances had ended. Instead, he forced himself to remember his successes. And Annabeth’s successes. They hadn’t just pulled it off, they had proven people wrong. When he remembered that, he broke out into a wide grin, and stepped to the side to allow Annabeth to come out for her final bow. He clapped and cheered for her along with the audience. He noticed that she was crying, and he hoped it was because she was happy.

When the curtain fell, people shuffled off the stage quickly, desperate to get out of their costumes and make up and to get water. There would be time for hugs and congratulations once they were all comfortable.

Percy noticed, though, that Annabeth wasn’t moving. She was looking around at the stage as the crew began moving set pieces off.

“Annabeth?” Percy said, walking up to her.

She looked at him, smiling at him. He thought for a moment that she was going to hug him again, but she did something more unexpected.

She kissed him.

[mhoganmell]

Safe Now

My theater teacher circles the auditorium, checking and locking each door as he passes it. He never checks the doors. Something is happening. Something bad. We carry on reading Shakespeare.

The class doesn’t seem to notice the doors being checked, but I do. The teacher exits stage left, towards the doors we usually come into for class.

Two administrators replaced him at the front of the auditorium. Students begin to pay attention. 


“Meghan, We need you in the office.” 


“Okay?” I question, and begin to stand up.


“Bring your things.”


“Why?”


“Grab them and grab them quickly. Please.” 


I shove my book in my backpack, rip the zipper shut, and follow the two administrators out the stage doors. Singing isn’t coming from the choir room. Laughter isn't coming from the gym. The cafeteria is empty.


“What’s happening?” I ask. 


“Your grandmother is in the office. We’re sending you home. It’s for your own safety.” 


“My own… What do you mean ‘my own safety?’”


“We’ll let your grandmother explain.”


“But it’s my dad's night to pick me up. 


“Right now we need to get you out, but she’ll explain”


I follow them silently through the deserted halls and up to the office. They open the doors and send me in. 


“We’ve got her. Bringing her out now.” Multiple police officers stand in the lobby with my grammy. Grammy grabs me, and we walk as fast as we can out to the car. She pulls out of the parking space before I can even get my seatbelt clicked. 


“Why is there an unmarked following us?”


“They’ll escort us out of the neighborhood. Then I’ll take you to our house until your mom gets off.”


“What’s happening? Isn’t Dad supposed to pick me up today?”


“You never have to see him again. It’s over. It’s all over.” 


I feel the weight of a thousand bricks lift off of my shoulders. Whatever he’s done this time was just stupid enough. Just big enough. I never have to go there again. He’s messed up. It’s all over. Twelve years of abuse. Over just like that. I never have to go there again. 


“What happened?”


“He sent a fax to the school. And your guardian ad litem. He wanted to sit you down at school and have a conversation with both of you. He said he wanted to talk to you but something seemed off. Off enough for the school to call your mom, but she was too far away. They called your guardian ad litem too. He skimmed it. They agreed that it sounded like a threat. We don’t know what he was going to do, but we knew it wasn't going to be good, and we needed to get you out before he got there.” I sit in silence for a moment. “But you’re safe now. I promise.”


[nonbinaryhatboxghost]

2:33pm. Been a minute. I am still overall doing okay. The Maine trip I mentioned back in September did successfully happen. All of the stuff that was in Maine was great. I got to experience so much New England autumn. Quality time with my dad went well. My Stephen King nerddom was very much indulged. Maybe I’ll post pictures at some point.

The RI part of the visit was not so successful. Seeing my grandparents was great, but being back in the RI house that I lived in for so long was a terrible experience. I don’t think I can ever stay in that house again. Without Jack (my late family cat, he passed away this year at age 19), there’s nothing really there to hide the sad cycle that’s happening in that house.

Work bullshit continues. That is admittedly my norm now.

Personal life stuff is generally going well. My anxiety does continue trying to find ways to ruin it, but I’m doing my best to not let that happen.

I recently did a week and a half of cat-sitting/apartment-sitting for a couple friends. The cat-sitting part went great, she was a sweetheart to me. That definitely helped with the isolation part of the gig. I really didn’t think hard enough about what staying in an apartment without a car and far from my social circle would do to my brain.

I’ve accepted that December holidays no longer make me happy due to many memories of forced interactions and pressure to Do Something & Be Happy. I instead did a couple of low-key things this year that were what I wanted.

I’m feeling a bit off today because I’m doing some mild self-isolation. A friend of mine recently tested positive for COVID and while I have tested negative, and it’s been 5 days since I last saw said friend, I felt like I should be safe and stay in. It’s also cold and I’ve been so mentally exhausted from work that I’ve been using this extended weekend mostly to catch up on sleep and recharge.

But while I have done things like go to a movie theater or sometimes out to eat over the last couple months, I feel like I’m reverting a little bit to lockdown mode. Maybe it’s the rising case numbers, maybe it’s hearing about all the airline shenanigans. Maybe it’s my whole hiding-from-everything instinct that happens when I’m low or upset.

A little while ago, I became very fixated on The Weeknd. There was a live performance of his that I found from 2020. Specifically the November 2020 American Music Awards. LA was still in lockdown. He walks up and down an empty bridge street that is lined with fireworks. At the end, the camera pulls back and up and up as the city is shown behind the bridge, and The Weeknd gets smaller and smaller. Fireworks burst outside of the bridge. I have revisited this performance more times than I can count not just because of the music, but because it captures the specific time and place and feeling of lockdown for me in 2020. The Weeknd sings over and over again “save your tears for another day” as the city behind him is quiet and empty, even though there are still people there trapped inside their homes.

I keep rewatching it. I think it may be because I still feel trapped. Again, I’ve been outside, I’ve interacted with folks. But I still wear a mask at work every day and have just accepted that I’m one of the only people in the office that does that. If I’m invited to a gathering of more than half a dozen people, it is more likely that I won’t go. I left the choir I was a part of because I didn’t feel safe singing inside with a large group of folks without masks. I made the mistake of going to the zoo with a couple friends on the 26th and was completely unprepared for the LARGE number of people and families there, most of whom were unmasked. I was masked the whole time but I still felt unsafe.

Wearing a mask isn’t a problem for me. I just know that I can’t keep cutting myself off and distracting myself with fixations long-term. I need a social or creative outlet again, but I don’t feel safe enough to look for one.

On a petty note, Avatar: The Way of Water is a bad movie. I recommend not giving it money. It has enough.

[peakyblindersxx]

Hello!! Do you think you could write something John Shelby where his gf is very shy and innocent (like the complete opposite of him) like John was her first everything and after a while she asks John to be more rough with her in bed?? Like more dominant and aggressive?? Hope that made sense, thank you !!!

a\n: hey babe! ty soo much for requesting this cause i liked it so much i had to make an entire fic about it. i’m a sinner.  hope you enjoy!!

tagging my bestie @stxdyblr-2k ik you’ve been waiting love u !!

love, abi xxx

desperate - john shelby x reader 

warnings: nsfw!!! degradation, praise kink, power play, john being sexy as fuck

John Shelby was a sight to behold in bed. From the moment he had taken your virginity, slow and sweet in your best friend Ada Shelby’s guest room, John’s touch was slow and torturous, fingertips searing into your skin as he was soft and slow with you, making you come with his mouth and hands before even attempting to broach the subject of his cock inside you. You were already his, his pink lips a welcome relief as he lapped at your cunt, obscene sounds echoing off the walls. The two of you were tipsy, the rest of the party obscenely dancing to music playing from the gramophone downstairs. John had always been irresistible to you, but you were his younger sister’s innocent friend, whom you thought he never noticed. He was surprised that you even showed up to the party hanging off Ada’s arm, clad in a light pink silk dress that clung to your curves in a way that made his mouth water. He had watched you make your way through the party, downing whatever drink Ada passed your way. Finally, he got drunk enough to make his way over to you, your eyes sparkling as they met his, gin and tonic sloshing in the glass in your hand. The two of you fell into conversation, John’s fingertips grazing your bare back, causing goosebumps to prickle on your skin.

“Having fun?” John’s lips brushed against your ear as the two of you stood at the edge of the party, at the entrance to a hallway leading to a few spare rooms. You shivered at the contact, alcohol pumping through your veins, giving you the courage to be blunt. “It’d be better if you kissed me,” you smiled shyly, looking up at John through your eyelashes. John’s lips met yours, backing you up slowly against the wall as he kissed you gently, teeth tugging at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, like you’d dreamed of so many times before, kissing him back with fervor, letting out a soft whimper. John groaned, abruptly removing his lips from yours before tugging you into the nearest empty bedroom. He shut the door quickly, lifting you up with his hands on your ass as he connected his lips with yours again, setting you down on the bed before looking down at you with dilated pupils. 

“John, there’s something I need to tell you,” you murmured, looking down at the blanket on the bed. 

“What’s that, sweetheart?” John asked, peppering kisses on your collarbone. 

“I’m-I’m a virgin,” you blurted out, a blush spreading across your cheeks. 

John stopped and locked his blue eyes with yours. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about that, darling. It’s just.. Are you sure you want to do this? With me?”

You nodded, looking up at John under hooded eyes. “Yes.”

John wasted no time in covering your body with his, kissing you harder than before. And now, here you were, back arching into John’s face as he continued rubbing circles into your clit while he devoured you. You weren’t even conscious of the noises leaving your mouth as you came all over John’s face, eyes rolling back into your head as you reached your climax. John groaned into your cunt as he watched you come, continuing his ministrations through your orgasm, causing your legs to shake. John finally stopped, chuckling as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“So fucking pretty when you come.”

You blushed, as John made little work of the rest of your clothes. He spent the next hour showing you just how hard he could make you come, and you couldn’t help but let him. He was headache inducing, in all the right ways. From then on, he’d always find ways to get you alone, from in his office, in his car, in various hotels, to even in the goddamn movie theater once. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, the way he took his time with you, and always paid attention to how your body reacted. However, you knew there was more to John Shelby than the sweetness that he showed you. You had overheard many heated phone calls; heard the rumors spread about his reputation. You found yourself longing for more. You wanted to see the dark side of John, wanted him to use you to his satisfaction.

You could hear John swearing into the telephone before you even opened his office door, the air thick with the tension of the day. You quietly slipped in, not wanting to interrupt. John stood at his desk, eyes trained on the papers spread across it as he snapped into the receiver, shooting his whiskey between sentences. His shoulders were clenched underneath his dark grey suit, making you want to run your hands across the taught muscles in an attempt to help him relax. Profanities spewed from his soft lips as he argued with whoever was on the other line, running a hand through his neatly combed hair. 

“I gave you a deadline, yeah? Now, you need to fucking deliver!” John slammed the phone down, exhaling as his eyes found you. A small smile replaced the frown that had previously occupied his mouth. 

“God, you’re a fucking sight for sore eyes,” John exhaled. 

“Could say the same.” You smiled up at him, walking behind his desk and kissing him, breathing in the intoxicating smell of his cologne. John picked you up and sat you on the desk, deepening the kiss. Before he could continue, you freed your lips from him. John furrowed his brow in confusion, but before he could say anything, you spoke.

“I need to ask you something.”

“What’s goin’ on, darlin’?” John looked slightly concerned, his blue eyes trained on yours.

You steadied your breath. “I was wondering if… you know…. you could be, um, rough with me?”

John let out a sigh, dropping his head slightly before bringing it back up to meet yours, the light of the fireplace reflected off of his eyes. his arms on either sides of you. “Fucking christ, sweetheart. Never thought I’d hear those words come out of that sweet little mouth, hm?” John grinned at you as you ducked your head in embarrassment. 

John lifted your chin so your eyes met his again. “I’ll do it, but only if you promise to tell me if it’s too much. You say stop, and I’ll stop, yeah?”

“I promise,” You replied, blushing slightly.

John smiled at you before pressing kisses down your neck, causing goosebumps to prickle. “Pretty little thing like you, wanting me to treat you like a whore, eh?” 

You shivered at his words, and John took note, letting out a low chuckle. “Look at you, getting all riled up. Barely even touched you yet sweetheart.”

“John,” you whined, and his eyes darkened. 

“Don’t be a fucking brat.” John’s harsh tone went straight to your core as he continued pressing sloppy kisses to your collarbone. You fucking wanted it, and he knew it. Your back arched into John at the mere touch of his hands and mouth. You were already so far gone, it was ridiculous.

“John, please,” you whimpered, looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes, cheeks flushed. This was the look he couldn’t resist, and some part of you knew it. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you,” John crooned, his fingers finding their way to your sopping wet core. “Jesus, Y/N, you that wet for me already? Been thinking about my cock all day, huh?”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, moaning at John’s fingertips curling against the spot that made your head spin. John chuckled darkly. “Pretty little girl, couldn’t even wait for me to get home, hm? Had to come see me so I could give you what you need.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, and John’s eyes darkened as he reached a hand up to grip your throat, making your breath hitch. 

“Watch your language, princess. Don’t wanna have to make me punish you.” John rumbled, rubbing his thumb in circles around your clit as you squirmed, nodding with flushed cheeks as you looked up at him. 

“Yes, sir,” you gasped between whimpers, as John wasted no time connecting your lips roughly. He flipped you over, shoving your skirt over the curve of your ass before entering you, groaning at the feeling of your wet heat practically sucking him in as he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your upper half off the desk as he fucked into you at an infuriatingly slow pace. 

“You don’t even care that I’ve got you bent over the desk like a whore, huh? You that desperate for me, sweetheart?” John grunted, savoring the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you slowly. The only speech you could manage other than a fevered nod was almost a cry, and you almost could feel John grin at the state you were in. 

“Please, sir,” you managed to blurt out, aching for more from him. 

“Please, what?” John mocked, but it went straight to your lower abdomen. It was like he already knew which buttons to press to get you as riled up as possible. If you were screwed before, you were definitely fucked now. Quite literally.

“Please fuck me harder, sir,” you moaned, attempting to fuck yourself back onto him. John grinned at the sight of how eager you were for him; how willing you were to take whatever he gave you.

“Should’ve fucked you like this sooner, huh? Knew you loved my cock, but fucking ‘ell, darling,” John crooned, watching you cry out and grab for the top of the desk for leverage as he pounded into you, savoring the whimpers that fell out of your mouth. 

“I’m gonna-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as John quickened his pace, his hand toying with your clit. 

“You gonna come all over my cock, pretty girl?” John growled as he slammed into you roughly, fingertips bruising at your hips. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came as hard as you had ever in your life, body going limp as John chased your orgasm with his, grunting as he released into your pulsing cunt, stickiness dripping down the back of your thighs. 

“Fuck,” John groaned as he took his cock out of you. He reached into a drawer and produced a dry towel,  cleaning you up and pressing kisses to the curve of your back as you laid there panting, seeing stars. 

“You alright, love?” John questioned, pushing your hair behind your ear and planting a kiss to your forehead. 

You nodded, smiling up at him before he pulled you into his arms for a kiss. 

“Let me take you home and make you dinner, hmm?” John queried, pressing kisses to your hair. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you murmured into John’s neck, sleepy yet satisfied. 

[dickwheelie]

22 jonmartin omg 👁👁

this was for the prompt "grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back from something." sorry this took so long! thank you for the prompt Moss, I hope you enjoy!

____________

When Martin ascends the hill again, Jon is not there.

They had found themselves in a Vast domain, consisting mostly of gentle rolling hills which were cut at their apex with dramatic, rocky cliffs that dropped off into an endless ocean far below. For those who weren't being Watched, the place was rather pleasant, almost picturesque, and Martin had suggested it might be a nice place to rest for a bit. Jon had found a patch of grass at the top of a hill, and Martin was intending to explore a bit. Just go down to the bottom of the hill, he said. That is, if Jon didn't have a statement, because if he did, Martin wanted to be there. He didn't want a repeat of the Web theater, after all.

Jon had said no, he couldn't sense a statement here, Martin was free to go. That was what he'd said.

But of course, Martin thinks as he sees the flattened, empty patch of grass on the hillside, it can never be that easy, could it.

He doesn't begin to really worry until he looks off towards the apex of the hill.

Like a sleepwalker, or perhaps a better description would be a dead man walking, Jon is stiffly making his way up the hill towards the edge of the cliff, where the rocks simply end and drop off into the endless expanse of waves below. Martin can hear his voice droning on with someone else's words, and his eyes have a particular sheen to them that Martin has come to recognize and loathe. Martin knows he is not in control, and that he is not seeing anything in front of him.

Martin still isn't entirely sure of the rules of this new state of reality, whether it's dream logic or nightmare logic or something that makes even less sense. He does not know if he or Jon are in any danger of dying in these domains. He isn't sure if Jon is capable of dying at all anymore.

Martin doesn't take the time to consider any of that before he is running full tilt towards the cliff's edge.

"Jon!"

Jon, of course, does not heed him, and keeps walking head-on into danger. Figures, Martin thinks with bitter irony. He's never been able to resist that even while he was awake.

"Jon!"

Perhaps it is useless to yell, but Martin does it anyway. Jon's boot crunches the dirt not a meter away from the edge.

"Jon, don't--"

Finally, mere feet away, Martin catches up with him, shoes sliding through the dirt as he comes to a halt just behind him. Jon's hand is dangling senselessly at his side, with no need to carry a tape recorder anymore, and Martin grabs it and pulls, yanking him roughly back away from the precipice just before he reaches the rocks that mark its edge. Jon stumbles backwards into his arms, his limbs flailing and his droning speech stuttering, and Martin holds him fast, clutching him protectively against his chest. Even now he can feel the supernatural tug of something pulling Jon towards the cliff's edge, but Martin's arms are strong, stronger than anything else he possesses, stronger than his weak, soft heart and much stronger, he'd wager, than the Beholding's hunger.

There is a tense moment of struggle, wherein Martin can barely tell the difference between Jon's resistance and the Beholding's pull, but a few moments later Jon's voice fades and stops in the middle of a sentence, the statement left incomplete. His body goes slightly limp in Martin's arms. Martin loosens his hold and turns Jon gently around, taking his face in his hands and forcing Jon to meet his eyes. Jon's gaze darts sporadically across Martin's face, but that vague sheen from before is gone, and his eyes seem clear. "Jon?" Martin says anxiously. "Are you there?"

Jon takes a heavy breath and with his normal, wonderful voice says, "I--yes, Martin, I'm--" Martin doesn't need to hear more. He wraps his arms tightly around him, crushing him against his chest, a hand in his hair.

"It's alright," Martin tells him. "I've got you. I've got you. You're alright." He's saying it to comfort himself as much as Jon.

"Yes," Jon says weakly, muffled against his chest. His voice is hoarse, as though the statement had been more than a short monologue. "I-I'm sorry, Martin, I shouldn't have--gone off without you, I--"

"No," Martin says, guilt suddenly weighing him down like rocks against his ankles, "no, I shouldn't have left you, I--We said, didn't we, we said we'd stay together, we promised--"

Jon is shaking his head against Martin's chest. "This isn't your fault. I--I said you could go, I said I'd be fine, I--" Jon looks up at him, his expression angry and stubborn. "I broke our promise."

"You didn't know there'd be a statement," Martin says, just as stubbornly. "You can't control it, and I knew you couldn't. But I left anyway."

"Because you trusted me. How could I blame you for--"

They're talking in circles, Martin realizes, making each other miserable and not getting anywhere. "Jon," Martin interrupts. His voice is soft, but Jon is silent at once, staring up at him defiantly, ready to defend Martin against his own guilt. There's a surge of blind affection in Martin's chest, and he presses a kiss to Jon's cheek before continuing. "There's no point in figuring out who's to blame. Maybe we both are. Maybe neither of us is. Technically, all of this is Jonah's fault, so I say we blame him."

Despite everything, Jon's lips twitch with a smile.

"If you really want to hash this out," Martin says, "we can do that later. For now, I . . . god, I'm just glad you're alright." Martin leans down, hiding his face in Jon's hair. "I love you."

"I love you," Jon says at once, and the words are like water down a dying man's throat.

For some reason, that's what brings tears to Martin's eyes. The rush of adrenaline has left him, and all there is now is cold relief and residual fear. His breath shakes. "I won't . . . I won't leave you again, alright? Not even if you let me."

Jon huffs a laugh, his eyes a bit watery themselves. "I'm not going anywhere," he says. "Never again, Martin, I promise."

Martin presses a kiss to his forehead, and then his nose, and his cheek. "I know. I know. Thank you."

"I should be thanking you," Jon says, and his tone is lighter even through the tears. "You saved my life."

"Would you . . ." Martin swallows, unsure if he wants the answer to his question. "What would have happened if you'd kept walking? Would you have . . ."

"Died?" Jon finishes the sentence breezily. "Hm. I'm not sure. I told you the Beholding's not great at hypotheticals, but maybe if I try to Know it . . ."

"N-No," Martin says quickly, before the sound of faint static can get louder, "that's--that's alright. I'd . . . honestly I'd rather not know, if it's all the same to you. And I don't want you getting a headache."

"Ever the considerate gentleman," Jon says wryly, and Martin matches his grin, unaccountably relieved to hear him sounding like himself again.

In time, once Martin has hugged Jon to his satisfaction, they make their way back down the hillside, towards the next leg of their journey. They walk hand in hand, fingers wound together tight, and it is a long, long time before they finally let go.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 9)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7) (chapter 8)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (semi-public fingering, specifically), angst... I think that's it

After your impromptu motorcycle drive you stayed out all night; exploring the empty city, ducking into dive bars if they were still open, dancing in the streets to music only the two of you could hear.

The city was so eerily empty at night, nothing like a metropolitan complex like London. But it was less creepy and more peaceful, especially when you were walking with Sebastian hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. He started to swing your hand as you walked and it made you laugh.

“Teach me more Romanian words, please,” you requested, looking at him and struggling to fight your smile. “Română?”

“Eu voi,” he nodded, looking around and pointing to the ground. “Stradă.”

“Stradă... we call it the street,” you answered. “Or road. Road?” you prompted.

“Road,” he repeated.

“Good! Your pronunciation isn’t too bad either,” you grinned.

“Copac,” he announced as he pointed to a tree.

“Copac,” you repeated. “In English, it’s tree.”

“Tree,” he smiled. “Engleza este o prostie.”

He suddenly pulled you into him and spun you around in a twirl, making you laugh. “Dans,” he said as he stepped his feet in time with yours. “A dansa.”

“Yeah, dancing,” you smiled. “I haven’t danced in years, you know, except for tonight.”

He surprised you with a sudden kiss that was unexpectedly chaste, just a press of his lips on yours that either lasted longer than it normally would or just slowed time for a moment. “Sărut,” he whispered when he pulled back.

”Sărut,” you repeated.

“Aș putea să te sărut ore în șir. Ai cele mai perfecte buze,” he breathed, running his thumb over your bottom lip which had gone slack just from listening to him talk.

Your fingers trailed down over the portion of his chest exposed by his unbuttoned collar. “I didn’t know I could feel this way about somebody,” you admitted aloud to yourself. “I wish I could stay…”

His hands lifted your face to look up at him. “Nu face asta. Nu te mai ascunde în gândurile tale. Fi cu mine.”

“Sărut?” you requested, making him grin.

“Da, iubirea mea,” he cooed as he leaned in and kissed you again, smiling into it.

You really hadn't even liked kissing all that much before you met him… you just hadn't seen the appeal beyond warming up to more exciting activities, but now? This was all the excitement you needed; you could kiss him for hours and never get bored.

That said, apparently Sebastian had exciting plans of his own, because you found yourself being backed up against a brick wall, his hands exploring your body— subtle at first, just rubbing your arms and gripping your waist, but then it got less ambiguous as you felt his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing over your stomach.

His touch trailed higher, nearly reaching your breast but stopping just before: you didn't mean to whine impatiently, but you heard it muffled against his lips and felt him chuckle lightly, breaking the kiss and leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Atât de nevoiași," he hummed, nibbling on your earlobe as your thighs clenched together much too strongly when he'd barely touched you.

You clutched at his shirt, watching as his hand moved down to the top of your pants, the tips of his fingers just barely breaching past the fabric and starting to slide down.

"Here?" you gasped, finally remembering you were in public though you hadn't seen another person out here since you left the bar.

His hand moved lower down and your stomach fluttered with the forbidden nature of it all, feeling like a rebellious high schooler fooling around behind the movie theater when you both had curfew in ten minutes. But then he found your clit right away and it was nothing like high school.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, shuddering and pushing your hips up to silently beg for more. He rubbed circles over your bud and smiled against your neck, already making it a struggle for you to stay quiet.

“Un alt cuvânt pe care ar trebui să-l știi,” he whispered, the pitch of his voice making it clear he was saying something beautifully filthy, “este dracu. Vreau să te dracu.”

“Seba, please,” you sighed.

"Dar nu cred că o pot face aici," he added with a soft laugh.

Two fingers suddenly pushed into you and didn't seem to struggle with it at all since he already had you soaked, curling into a tender spot inside you right away.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Yes?” he repeated with a smirk.

“Yes,” you said it again, “fuck yes.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, the word that was so familiar to you almost sounding foreign when he said it. “Spui asta mult. Cred că asta înseamnă că vei veni.”

“Your fingers feel so good,” you moaned, barely enough air in your lungs to get the words out. "Please… please don't stop…"

He kissed you again, open-mouthed and desperate as you both breathed heavily, his tongue sliding against yours as if to taste your moans. Hoping to stay upright now that your knees felt a little wobbly, you slipped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. That, in turn, led to you feeling the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted right there, wishing you could feel him inside you now but figuring it probably wasn't worth the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure.

By now he knew you like the back of his hand, it seemed, because you were already throttling full speed ahead toward the edge, shocks of heat jumping up your spine each time he curled his fingers inside you.

"I— I'm gonna—" you stammered through your warning. He nodded, moving his fingers faster as you bit your lip a little too hard.

Just when you thought you couldn't help but cry out he kissed you one more time, rough and hungry, and muffled the sounds of you reaching your peak literally by his hand.

Everything that had twisted and snapped all at once began to soothe as you sighed and pushed his hand away slowly, feeling your walls spasm one more time when he slipped his fingers out and slid them right over your clit.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and brought his fingers to your lips; you dutifully cleaned them off for him, watching his lips twitch into a brief snarl when you took his fingers down your throat.

"Vom termina asta mai târziu," he promised darkly as he pulled you off of the wall and spun you around, and you wanted to return the favor but he stopped your hand from sliding up his thigh. "Mai târziu," he insisted, instead guiding you around the block and back to where his bike was parked.

Hopping on the back again as he started it up, you relished the change to cling onto his back tightly. He drove you through the empty streets, over sprawling hills and through stone archways, but just as you noticed this wasn’t the way to get back to the farmhouse, he slowed down and turned into a place to park.

“Why are you pulling over?” you asked, furrowing your brow as he parked the bike and motioned for you to get off with him. “Where are we going?”

“Ai incredere in mine,” he smiled as he took your helmet off for you and kissed you again, quickly, taking your hand and guiding you down a secluded path. You followed him down a few strange alleys, under clotheslines and sconces that started to dim with the oncoming morning light. Finally, he navigated you around a turn, through a tight gap, and out of nowhere you were on an overlook; one that gave you the perfect view of the sun beginning to rise over the city. “Wow,” you whispered, watching enraptured as soft yellow light overtook everything, the village and the woods in the distance beginning to come to life.

“Vremuri de genul ăsta mă fac să-mi fie dor de casă,” he sighed, before looking at you again from where he leaned on his elbows over the stone railing. “Îți faci mai ușor. Nu mai sunt singur.”

“This place is so beautiful, I’ve never lived anywhere like this before,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s just that it’s different that makes me like it so much… I guess I could say the same about you.”

Your eyes met his again, and the way he looked at you… it was like he saw right through you. Honestly, it was a bit terrifying. You'd never been so vulnerable to someone. You liked it more than you expected.

But it still scared you.

"Haide, hai să mergem acasă," he smiled as he stood upright again and took your hand.

"Let's get back to the house," you decided, but he was already leading you back to the bike where you rode through the countryside one more time, doing your best to memorize it all while you still had the chance.

You found tears in your eyes, though you didn’t remember crying, as you typed the final page of your manuscript.

It was a first draft, nothing close to a completed novel, but you were on your way to jumpstarting your career again. The only problem? You couldn’t have a career here. You couldn’t be published while living here, you couldn’t even edit this thing properly without a computer and you didn’t even have one here.

You needed to go home.

It killed you to realize that this was not a sustainable system: you living here— Hungary or Mrs. Alberti’s lakehouse— and falling in love with a near-stranger.

Sure, it was good for what it needed to be; he reminded you what it was like to be cherished and cared for, maybe you helped him break some dry spell (although you couldn’t imagine that this guy was anything but drowning in pussy all the time, but whatever). Regardless, it couldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to be anything other than… whatever it was meant to be.

You flipped through the pages of what you’d written already, admiring the journey that you saw on the paper— not just that of the characters, but your own as well. You could feel the weakness in your own voice in that first chapter, as if your hurt was right there painted on the page with the ink-pressed letters. You could remember shakily typing these words, hoping they would distract you from the fears and memories that plagued your mind.

A few chapters in, you could see the hope and optimism that built with the action of the story. You could feel your own love mirrored in the way you wrote your story, it was painfully powerful.

It brought a sense of closure, in a way; it gave you a chance to appreciate everything you’d learned from this, even if you knew you couldn’t take it with you into the next chapter. But this love didn’t feel like a subplot, it didn’t feel like a stepping stone onto the next adventure— it felt like what you’d been looking for your whole life. Maybe that’s just how it feels to be in the ‘honeymoon phase’ or whatever it’s called; maybe it’ll fade soon, with time and distance.

That was what you silently prayed for as you packed everything, folded your clothes, checked the nightstand drawers for those random trinkets they seemed to accrue. Funny how packing to leave this place took you longer than it did to throw your stuff together when you left Michael, and you’d been living there for years.

Then again, you'd known Michael so much longer than you'd known Sebastian, and yet it was Seba that meant so much to you now.

You weren’t sure what would be more difficult: leaving him, or knowing that you could never hope to explain everything in a way he would understand. You considered writing a letter and hoping that he would come upon a Romanian to English dictionary— but with everything you wanted to say, that would take him hours. After all that, would he find your words worth it? Or would he see it all as one last chore from a peculiar fling?

You were pretty sure he didn’t see it as a fling. But maybe he would understand that it was best left as a very unique rebound.

You left your room just to go get some coffee (or maybe something a little stronger, if it was available) and jumped when you saw Sebastian in the hall, causing you to quickly close the door behind you. “I didn’t expect to see you upstairs,” you greeted.

“Obținerea cearșafurilor curate,” he explained as he opened the door to the linen closet and pulled out some bedsheets.

“Oh, yeah, those could probably use a change,” you mumbled as you realized he may not have washed them since the last time you stayed in his bed.

“Vrei și tu câteva?” he asked, pointing towards your door and holding up the sheets.

“Oh, uh, I don’t need any more sheets,” you shook your head, “but thank you…”

His face curled into a mischievous grin. “Poate că trebuie să murdărim acele foi,” he purred as he set the linens down and stepped closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Seba,” you mumbled, but he must not have heard the hesitance in your voice as he leaned in and kissed your neck, making you sigh a little. He hummed contentedly and lightly bit your ear, and you were almost ready to just let him do it and procrastinate this conversation a little longer, but you had to sigh and push him back.

“Esti bine?” he asked, voice heavy with concern, as he straightened up and examined your face.

“Sebastian…” you started with a sigh, the words you’d been anxiously mulling over all night suddenly abandoning you. “What happened between us meant so much to me,” you continued slowly, “but the fact of the matter is, my first marriage isn’t even over yet. I mean, it’s over, but… I’m not really in a place where I can… start a new relationship…”

He looked back at you, that same blankness of incomprehension you were so used to painting his expression, and yet it was somber; he seemed to sense the tone, even if he was losing out on the specific ideas.

“It’s not fair to either of us, really,” you sighed. “I’m still mourning my marriage— and you were a really important part of that for me. So, thank you.”

You realized you needed to express your gratitude more thoroughly. Thinking quickly, you reached for his hand and opened it, placing his palm to your chest. He looked at you, a little confused.

“Thank you,” you repeated, looking him right in the eye.

He nodded slightly.

“Someday, somebody is gonna love you the way you need— the way you deserve,” you told him, stopping briefly to bite your lip in hopes it would stop quivering. “God, I wish it could be me. But it can’t.”

He held your face and kissed you, and much to your dismay it didn’t feel like a goodbye kiss. It didn’t feel like he knew this was the end. “Nu plânge,” he whispered. “Te iubesc.”

He kissed you again and you let yourself get lost in it like a complete fucking idiot, melting into his arms as he opened your bedroom door and pulled you inside with him. For a moment, it was like any other time, like any other perfect kiss with him, but then he pulled back and looked around and you had to watch his eyes as he realized. You had to watch his face as his smile fell away and his hope turned to despondence.

The whole room was packed. Heavy trunks on the bed, the sheets already stripped so Mrs. Alberti could wash them. Everything that made it feel like your room was gone, and it was just a guest room again, feeling bigger and emptier than ever.

All that was left was the typewriter on the table, because you still couldn't lift it.

“O să pleci,” he gasped, stepping back and releasing you from his embrace. “Chiar mă părăsești.”

You knew that look he was wearing on his face; beyond heartbreak— betrayal. You were all too familiar with it. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, “I would stay if I could, but I can’t, can I?”

A car horn honked outside, making you wince.

“That’s my ride,” you mumbled. “I have to go…”

You started to reach for your trunks and for a moment you thought that was really it. “Nu te duce,” he interjected suddenly, grabbing at your wrist and turning you to face him.

“I’m sorry— I have to leave—” you rushed, trying to grab your bags again.

“Nu te duce,” he repeated again desperately, pulling you close, cradling your face in his hands.

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded as your eyes began to water.

“Stay,” he begged, and you didn’t know that he knew that word. A tear fell; you wished he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to try to kiss him one last time, but he grimaced and pushed you away.

“Să trăieşti,” he said quickly, bitterly, as he stormed out of the room.

“Sebastian, wait—!”

But he was already running down the stairs; you heard the sound of the back door slamming a moment after he was out of sight, and another honk of the horn outside reminded you that you didn’t have time to chase after him. This wasn’t how you wanted it to end— really, you didn’t want it to end at all, and maybe if it had to (which it did) then this was as good a way as any. But you hated to leave like this when the last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

Defiantly wiping the tears from your face, you lifted the first of your trunks and made your way down the stairs, bringing them to the front door where the driver of the cab was waiting to carry them the rest of the way for you.

“Could you go upstairs and get my typewriter for me?” you asked him. “I can’t carry it well myself.”

He nodded and did as he was told, another small but painful reminder of your first day here. Mrs. Alberti came around the bend wearing a knitted shawl and a bittersweet smile.

“I hope you didn’t plan to go without saying goodbye,” she teased you.

“Of course not,” you smiled, “goodbye Mrs. Alberti.”

“I didn’t mean to me, dear,” she explained, making your heart twist.

“I don’t think he wants to hear it from me,” you admitted awkwardly. “I don’t think he can, literally.”

She just sighed and looked away, just as the driver loaded the last of your things into the trunk.

“So, this is it then,” you shrugged as you turned to face her.

“I doubt that,” she smiled. “It’s not a goodbye, sweetheart, just a ‘see you later.’”

“Sure,” you agreed, knowing she was wrong. You couldn’t come back here; you couldn’t leave him twice.

The driver shut the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat, leaving you to stare up at the house and take one last moment to soak it all in.

“You be sure to call me when your book is a big hit!” Mrs. Alberti instructed with a grin.

You were too choked up to say anything back, so you just waved and nodded as you got in the car and took a deep breath. “To the train station, please,” you mumbled to the driver, covering your eyes with your hand as you felt the car reverse and turn onto the road. You couldn't open them, or you’d look back, and you couldn’t look back.

Since your eyes were closed, you had no way to know that Sebastian chased after the car for nearly a block, giving up at the turn of the road, falling into the gravel and laying there for a while, repeating that one English word he couldn’t get out of his head: stay.

[tyonfs]

under the rain.

❝ it’s hard to believe that you want me too. ❞

PAIRING ▸ boyfriend!jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, some fluff, established relationship

WARNINGS ▸ dirty talk, praise, car sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, exhibitionism, some aftercare

WORD COUNT ▸ 1912 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this was an impulse-write i started a few days ago but i basically wrote 75% of it after the nct end of the year party video came out. jaemin is literally sososo pretty and omg seeing the new members and xiaohenyang with the rest of nct was everything ♡ i hope you guys enjoy this !! also psa this is reposted bc tumblr tags hate me

YOU DIDN’T EXPECT TO GET CAUGHT IN THE RAIN WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND, NA JAEMIN.

The two of you were always too busy to see each other during the week. From college classes to football practice, Jaemin could barely squeeze in time for you. Rare moments like today, however, were when you could spend some quality alone time with him, away from friends and college lectures. Jaemin dedicated the entire day to you and only you, only for it to be ruined by the rainfall as you were walking back to Jaemin’s car from the movie theater.

You were drenched by the time you and Jaemin made it to the parking structure where his car was parked. Although the day had been perfect, from Jaemin taking you to your favorite coffee shop and then walking around with you downtown, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat gloomy because of the rain. You weren’t aware that you were visibly showing your exasperation until Jaemin wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you into his warmth.

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin murmured into your neck, “I didn’t know it was going to rain.”

You shivered a bit at his touch and put your hands over his. “It’s okay. I just wish we could be together for a little longer.”

You knew he was disappointed, too. Jaemin always complained about not having the chance to see you whenever he could, so simple things such as weekend dates were precious to him. On top of that, he absolutely hated not seeing you happy. Na Jaemin didn’t exactly have all the time in the world, but he did everything in his power to not let things end on a sour note.

The rain pattered outside of the empty parking structure, so Jaemin pulled you closer and opened the door to the backseat. You weren’t very sure where this was going to go but, regardless, you let him slide into the seat and pull you onto his lap, closing the door as soon as you were inside.

“Jaemin?” you asked, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Shh.” Jaemin silenced you and slid his long fingers over your clothed clit, rousing a surprised whimper from you. He smirked at your immediate reaction and brought his lips to your ear. “You like that?”

“Fuck,” you breathed out and looked around your surroundings, a sudden spike of anxiety rising at the thought of being seen. Yet, somehow, it got you even more excited. “What if someone sees us?”

“Then let them enjoy the show.”

Jaemin was always so shameless when it came to things like this. When you met up before classes once, he tugged you into a bathroom and took you in one of the stalls; on another occasion, you visited him during football practice and he snuck away to make out with you behind the bleachers. It wasn’t like you were opposed considering you were often just as sexually frustrated as he was.

Now, you both needed this. After barely seeing your boyfriend all week, you had kept everything pent-up, and you knew he felt the same way. Jaemin ran his free hand up and down your body, feeling what he had longed for.

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/N,” Jaemin whispered, blowing air against your ear. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”

He slipped his hand past your waistband, tracing his fingers along the v-line of your pelvis. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers grazing your skin, traveling down to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. You rutted back against him, craving more friction, more touch. This only encouraged Jaemin to speed up his pace, fingers rolling around your tiny ball of nerves in a way that made you go crazy.

“Jaemin, we shouldn’t—ah!”

“What was that?” he cooed sickeningly, knowing the effect he had on you.

But this time, you weren’t going to comply. No matter how horny you were, you knew it wasn’t a great idea to go at it in a parking lot. You were ready to—

Jaemin slid two fingers along your soaking slit. “Do you have something to say, Y/N?”

—completely give in.

“P-please,” you begged in a whimper, “more.”

“Such a good girl.” Jaemin slipped a finger inside of you, his free hand sliding up your shirt to feel you up. He slid his finger in and out of you, getting you more wet until he asked, “Want another one?”

You nodded quickly, breath hitching as Jaemin slid another finger in. Your walls tightened around his fingers but Jaemin didn’t slow down his pace. He pumped even faster, rousing a moan from you when his long fingers hit a certain spot that made your head go fuzzy. You felt a tingling sensation all over your body, warmth knotting in your stomach. You just wanted Jaemin to finish you off, but you knew that wasn’t his style.

You let out a moan that sounded about an octave higher, and Jaemin took it as his cue to pull his fingers out. You immediately whined, rolling your hips back against his. Your boyfriend tutted at your impatience and lifted his fingers to your lips.

“Suck,” he ordered, wanting you to taste yourself. You obeyed and held his wrist to suck on his fingers, and Jaemin bit back a groan. “Such a pretty mouth.”

He pulled his fingers away from your mouth once he was satisfied and tugged at your hips. You swiveled around so that you were straddling his lap, sitting on top of Jaemin’s painful erection. He reached up to move your hair out of your face, just admiring your features for a moment. It seemed as if he was frozen in time then, as if the world was just you and him in his car.

“It’s hard to believe,” he murmured, tracing his finger along your collarbone, “that you want me too.”

“Of course I do,” you whispered back, pouting at his statement. You wished he didn’t have to feel so insecure, but you understood that it was hard when you couldn’t see him all the time. “I love you.”

Jaemin smiled at your words, mumbling an “I love you too” as he grabbed the back of your neck to pull you down for a kiss. You kissed him back fervently, allowing him access to every part of you, letting his tongue roam your mouth and his hands roam your body. When you let out a gasp at the feeling of Jaemin’s hands gripping your ass, he seized the opportunity to kiss down to your neck.

“Jaemin, please,” you whined. “I need you.”

He pulled away for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before unbuttoning his pants for you. You moved off of him to take off your pants, too, and when you came back to him, you were dying for his touch again.

You both were silent for a moment, just heavy breathing and chests rising and falling before he said, “Ride me.”

You hesitated because you had expected him to take charge tonight. Now, you were feeling a bit nervous, but you stepped up to the challenge. Nodding, you tugged down his boxers to let his cock spring out. He was so fucking hard and you were so wet and ready to take him.

“Easy,” he murmured, guiding your hips down on him. A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you, adjusting your position several times before you could take him in fully. “No matter how many times I fuck you, you’re always so tight and perfect for me.”

Jaemin groaned as your walls clenched and unclenched around him. Jaemin tucked his head into your shoulder, holding the small of your back as you moved your hips up and down on him. Your boyfriend greedily groped every possible place he could pleasure you, and when he got to pinching your nipples, you felt like your head was spinning.

You thought Jaemin was getting unsatisfied by your careful movements because he held your hips with a bruising grip and pulled you down. You moaned, curling your fingers into his hair as you bounced on his cock. Jaemin groaned into the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up to whisper words of praise into your ear.

He was rough sometimes, yes, but Jaemin loved to love, and he showed it during sex. Despite how rough he liked to get, it was the simple gestures that really showed how gentle he could be. He would kiss every inch of your skin that if he thought he held you too hard, stroke your hair while he was pounding into you, and hold you close to him because more than the sex, he just wanted you in his arms.

“Might cum—gonna cum, gonna cum,” you moaned out, nails digging into his shoulders as Jaemin fucked up into you.

He held your hips as he angled his hips again to hit that one spot that left you in the clouds. Your arm shot out to the side, attempting to grab anything for leverage, which was when you noticed how the windows started fogging up. Jaemin pressed his thumb against your clit, sending waves of pleasure that dared to make you spill over.

“Hold it for me, pretty girl,” Jaemin ordered in a gentle voice, rubbing your clit in circles as he grinded his hips up into you. “Don’t cum all over my cock just yet. I wanna do it with you.”

You closed your eyes shut, biting your lip and nodding. You let out a loud whimper each time Jaemin thrusted up into you, complete with you bouncing up and down on his cock. Jaemin’s voice was raspy, growling filthy words into your ear that made butterflies flutter in your stomach, edging you even more.

By the time you had tears streaming down your cheeks, Jaemin decided he had overstimulated you enough. He pressed down on your clit a touch harder as he circled the little ball of nerves. Paired with his intense thrusts, you were losing your hold over yourself.

Jaemin looked up at you, desperation over his face. “Go ahead, Y/N. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

You didn’t waste any time and unraveled right in front of him, crumbling into his hold right away. Jaemin groaned, filling you up to your brim, and relief washed over you when you remembered you were on the pill. But Jaemin continued fucking you through your highs, hips stuttering to a stop when you both had grounded yourselves again.

The only sounds in the car were the distant pattering of raindrops and the heavy panting from you and Jaemin. You bit your lip as you got off of him, his cum dripping down your thighs. You frowned slightly at the mess because you knew he had nothing to clean it off with.

Jaemin looked solemn for a moment when you got off his lap. You both knew that once you two got back to your college campus, this dream would end and you would get back to the cold reality of schoolwork and club activities.

He held your hand, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin. “Will you stay the night?” he asked gently. “I want cuddles.”

You smiled at his words. “Of course.”

It was true that you and Jaemin rarely had time to see each other recently, but right now, under the pouring rain, it didn’t matter because you had each other.

[mercy-burning]

Pretty Please (Reprise)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: About a year has passed since Reader and Spencer got together, and they spend the day celebrating. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Fluff, mostly Smut 18+ (dom!Spencer, fingering, slight exhibitionism, car sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex- creampie, slight degradation) Warnings: Sex, language. As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you! Word Count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Thank you all so much for reading this series! It turned into something I wasn’t really expecting, and I’m very glad you all have enjoyed it, because it’s really pushed me to keep writing. Thank you!!! I hope you enjoy this short little spicy epilogue 🥰

***

She knew she was going to be in for it later, but she didn't care. Messing with him was too much fun. Not to mention when he finally got her alone and had his way with her, she would be more than satisfied.

"Y/N, stop it," Spencer said lowly in her ear.

Her hand remained on its course as she smirked, and he sighed, irritated. When she circled the tip of his dick through his pants, keeping her eyes focused on the scene in front of her, he grabbed it, lacing his fingers through hers and setting their entwined hands on her knee.

She pouted, but smiled right after, then turned her attention to the screen.

Spencer and Y/N were coming up on one whole year of being together, and though she just wanted to spend the day inside, he insisted on taking her out. They went out for breakfast, then to the park, and now they were at the movie theater. She tried to enjoy every second, and though deep down she really did—she always enjoyed being with him regardless of what they were doing—she was desperate for him. He'd been away on a case for almost a week and a half, and now that he was home she was feeling particularly... needy.

She hardly paid attention to the movie, her thoughts clouded by images and memories of their first excursion together. She replayed it over and over in her head, the wanting look in his eyes as she sank to her knees and pleaded for him to let her make up for the fact that she'd invaded his privacy. "Pretty please," she'd begged, and since then she always remembered how beautiful he looked in that moment. She never forgot it, and never would in a million years.

If there weren't any other people in the theater, she would have been bolder, maybe even so bold as to re-create that moment right there. Though, as hot as sex in public had proved to be on occasion, she'd come to learn that Spencer was not a fan of germs, and she knew ultimately that even if there weren't any people in the theater, he wouldn't have let her get on the floor to do what she wanted anyway.

They were sitting in the back row, though, and the only other people in the room was a family of four down in the middle. So Y/N wanted to take another risk.

He eventually untangled his fingers from hers once he trusted her to not make any moves, and she took that as her opening. She waited about fifteen minutes, and then reached under her skirt, inconspicuously hooking her fingers through the waistband of her panties and pulling them down her legs as her eyes stayed glued to the screen. She felt Spencer's hand grip her knee in warning, but she didn't care. As she reached for her cup and took a drink from her soda, her other hand dropped her panties in his lap.

That was all she was going to do, and she should have known he'd make this hard on her, but alas, when his hand slid up from her knee and rested at her inner thigh, his pinkie finger reaching over and resting just above her clit, she almost choked on her soda.

"You asked for it," he leaned over and whispered lowly in her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her neck before pulling back. His hand stayed where it was for just a few minutes before he shifted, wasting no time plunging his middle and ring fingers inside her. Y/N bit her lip to stifle a moan, while also clutching the armrests of the seat for dear life as his fingers pumped in and out slowly.

As the movie played in front of them, Spencer brought her to the edge three times, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean as she fought the urge to beg him to let her cum, right before going back in each time. It was torture, but she did, in fact, sign up for it.

When it was obvious that the movie was ending, he picked up his pace and curled his fingers in just the right way, and she almost yelped. He leaned into her one last time, and said, "You're going to cum on my fingers, and then you're going to clean them, got it? Be fast."

That was all she needed to finish, and she came as quietly as she could, her legs clenching around his hand and her eyes squeezing shut as she tried not to call out. When he felt her legs loosen around him, he slid his fingers up through her pussy and circled her clit a few times, making her jolt forward, before pulling away and quietly bringing his fingers to her mouth. She happily took them, sucking them as quickly and quietly as she could. She let out a soft groan as he pulled them out, but then stifled a louder one as he ran his fingers through her again, gathering more of her arousal. She cleaned them off once more before the credits started to roll, and then he stood up, bringing her with him.

As the family ahead of them walked up the aisles and out of the door, Spencer shoved her panties in his pocket and ushered themselves out behind them.

He didn't say a word the whole walk to the car. And even when they started driving, he said nothing.

"Hey," Y/N started nervously as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I... I hope I didn't make you do something you were uncomfortable with. I was onl— wait, where are we going? I thought you said after the movie we'd go home?"

Spencer gave a knowing smile as he drove down an empty alley. "That was before you decided to act like a needy little whore in public. I was going to wait until we got home and be gentle with you, but now I have some other ideas."

She tried to hide a grin, already growing excited and wondering what he was going to do to her.

He parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt before scooting the seat all the way back and moving to undo his belt. "You're going to ride me until I finish, and maybe if you're lucky you'll get to cum. Get over here." His voice was desperate, and Y/N could tell that his primary goal was to get off, it didn't matter if she did as well or not. But they'd been in that position before, and she knew that even if she didn't orgasm now, when they got home he would give her whatever she wanted. He always did.

Spencer removed his dick from his pants as she climbed over him, her skirt fanning out over them. Without warning he gripped her hips and brought her down on top of him, and she gasped as his hips lifted to meet hers. He did this a few more times before stilling and willing her to move on her own accord. She set a steady pace bouncing on him as her hands gripped his shoulders. His hands, in turn, slipped under her skirt and gripped her ass, his fingernails digging in as harshly as they could. It spurred her to move faster, and he leaned his head back with a groan. "Shit, pretty girl, just like that..."

He lifted his hips then, just a little so he could hit inside her deeper as she came down, and she cried out. She could feel him getting closer, and she knew just what would do the trick.  "Fuck, baby, cum inside me, please! Give it to me," she breathed, high-pitched and close to the edge herself.

Sure enough, his cock pulsated inside her and in no time he was filling her up, groaning out her name as it happened. She kept going, though, chasing her own release that was just on the surface, almost about to break through the water. But Spencer pulled her off of him and she whined, feeling his cum start to leak out a little.

"Please, Spencer, I was so close... Please..."

As she hovered over him, her legs barely holding herself up, he gripped her chin in his right hand and looked her in the eye. "I don't know... You were being a pretty bad girl at the theater."

"I know, and I'm so, so sorry..."

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it, pausing for a moment and then cocking his head and using his free hand to run up her inner thigh. "Beg for it."

"Spencer, please," she whined, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry, please, just let me cum, I promise I'll be good."

It apparently wasn't to his satisfaction, because he continued tracing patterns along her inner thigh as his cum dripped down it. His eyes searched hers, silently telling her what she needed to say to get what she wanted.

She almost smiled as she said it, dropping her voice to a seductive plea. "Pretty please..."

He smirked, sliding his fingers inside her. "That's my girl."

He fucked his cum back into her with his fingers, curling them and feeling her tighten around him as she got closer. "Fuck, thank you, thank you, ohh..."she trailed off, shutting her eyes and going blind with pleasure. Soon enough she was crying out as she peaked, her fingernails no doubt leaving marks in Spencer's shoulders, even through the fabric of his shirt.

When she caught her breath and loosened her grip on him, he removed his fingers from her and brought them to his mouth, doing his best to get rid of most of the mess. But then, as if he'd had an epiphany, Y/N watched as he pulled his panties from his pocket and used them to clean up between her legs and what little had made its way onto his pants and the seat of the car beneath them.

"You know I put napkins in the glovebox, right?" she laughed as she got off his lap and sat down in her own seat. She grabbed one of them and opened it to bunch her panties in, finally setting it in her lap as Spencer readjusted himself.

"Yeah, but that was more fun anyway," he replied matter-of-factly, and it made her smile.

"Hey, before we go home can we stop for a burger? Car sex makes me crave fast food."

As he started the car and turned on the radio, the familiar tune of Love Song by Tesla picking up where it left off on the mix CD she'd made him for their anniversary, he leaned over to kiss her cheek sweetly. "Anything for you, pretty girl."

[demonsandmischief]

Insecurities Pt. 1

Ghost Adventures - A Zak Bagans Imagine

Zak Bagans x Female Reader

ANGST ALERT ~ also some cussing

1400 Words

HELP 😭 I don't know what this is. WHY has this been circling in my head?? I'm not an angsty girl.

-Insecurities-

In which the relationship shatters.

----

The four friends came out of Zak Bagan's theater with cheesy grins and small residual chuckles.

Zak was chattering about something. Sometimes he never shut up, but that was your boyfriend and you loved him deeply. Anymore though, it seemed he didn't feel the same.

"Hi," you greeted. You were sitting at his kitchen island working on your laptop.

They continued to talk like you weren't there. When this happened at first, it wasn't a big deal, but lately it was like you didn't exist in Zak's world.

Your relationship had been good, really good. You got along great with his friends. You enjoyed his passion for his work. Yet, you were so opposite. You weren't a ghost hunter. You didn't ever travel with them.

You were definitely feeling a bit left out. Even Zak had slowly distanced himself. Was it something you did, or was your relationship simply over? Either way wasn't good.

"Hey, Y/N." Jay finally greeted back, easing some of the awkwardness you felt.

Zak said nothing to you. Actually, he was on his phone.

Billy, Aaron and Jay left, and Zak was still standing there texting.

"Hey, sorry. I actually have to hop on a meeting. It'll probably be a while." He finally looked at you and you shrunk under his gaze. It didn't feel like it normally did.

"What about dinner reservations?" you whispered.

"Raincheck?" he asked. "I'm really sorry, I do have to go."

"I'm starting to get a bit of headache anyway. I'll probably just head home," you said, but the room was empty.

You could feel your heart plummet to your feet as you walked out to your car.

You swiped away the first tear with rapid speed. You wouldn't give in to that, because as far as you know, you hadn't done anything wrong.

"I was supposed to leave, but there's been some kind of emergency meeting," Billy laughed, stepping out of his car. He paused, looking at you. "Are you okay?" He had moved closer, but you were heading towards the comfort of your car.

"I'm good. Just allergies," you faked a smile. "Good luck with that meeting." Finally, you could go home.

Billy frowned as he watched you drive off.

"Are you and y/n okay?" he asked Zak cautiously. He didn't want to be too invasive, but he was concerned.

"I think so. Why?" Zak looked up from his laptop.

"Well, the guys and I thought she did something since you had been ignoring her, but she was crying when she left. I was just concerned, I don't want to pry."

Zak frowned, "She left? And she was crying?" He heard you mentioned a headache, but figured you were just going to lay down.

"You didn't know she was leaving?" Billy asked in a soft voice. You were so polite, it was almost guaranteed you'd never leave without saying anything.

"Fuck," Zak dropped his head. "I wasn't ignoring her. She can be so sensitive."

Billy felt his defense for you, a good friend and a loyal girlfriend to his other good friend, raise, "Zak, you didn't speak one word to her. You wouldn't even look at her. What did she do that was so bad?"

Zak shook his head, "She didn't do anything." He hesitated, but Billy noticed.

"And?"

"It's me. I've never been in a good, committed relationship. She's so perfect, she doesn't need me. I just needed a way for her to leave me."

"Why the hell are you such an idiot?" Billy opened his laptop. "I'll deal with the meeting. You need to go."

----

Ten missed calls from Zak, and a dozen or so texts, but you wanted none of it. You silenced your phone and left it in the kitchen as you laid across the couch, watching TV as a distraction.

You hated feeling like a burden. If he was tired of you, he should have been straight about it instead of leading you on.

You swallowed the thickness in your throat, a tell-tale sign you were going to cry. You had been holding it in since you got home.

You brushed away the first tear with the back of your hand, pulling the soft blanket up to your chin as miserable shudders racked your body. It had been a sucky day and you were drained from it.

You must have dozed off because you were jolted awake by a knock on your front door. You knew immediately who it was, but you didn't know why he bothered, unless he was coming to break up with you officially.

You sat up, pushing your hair out of your face. You wished he would spare you of any more heartache and just leave.

You groaned silently to yourself when you heard the sound of keys rattling. It slipped your mind he had keys to your home. He hardly ever had to use them. You were almost always at his place.

Zak spotted you immediately huddled on couch and he felt like the worst piece of shit alive. He had been doing it so you wouldn't hurt, but he hurt you even worse in the process.

"Baby," he called softly, walking closer. He hesitated, not knowing what to say. Sorry just wasn't enough.

"What are you doing here, Zak?" Your voice was rough from crying and he hated it. He didn't know what had gotten into him, why he had pushed you away so hard. Yeah, you deserved better, but he loved and adored you. It was inexcusable.

"I had something to say," he said, moving closer and you finally turned to look at him.

He felt sick to his stomach at the torn apart look you gave him. He had caused that. It was his fault.

"I already know you're breaking up with me. You could've spared the trip."

"I'm not breaking up with you." Zak sat down beside you, and you followed his every move. You wanted him to leave, for the games to be over with.

"Then you're an asshole," you manage to get out.

He was a bit stunned by the sharpness of your voice. He caused you to be jaded.

He sucked in a deep breath, "I was trying to get you to leave me. You deserve so much better than me, and if this isn't proof enough..."

"You don't get to decide that for me. I loved you. I was doing my best, trying to be friends with your friend and accepting when you had to go away," you shook your head, tired of it all.

Loved. As in past tense. Wasn't that what he wanted all along? He swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He knew it wasn't enough, but the sting had numbed his whole body.

You couldn't contain the sob that escaped. It was like a dam had broken.

Zak reached for you, expecting you to push him away, but you allowed him to pull you to his chest.

You could feel his own tears as he bent his head and rested it on your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled. "I should've talked to you when I started getting insecure. I'm such a fuck up."

"I thought I had done something," you said into his chest with a sniffle.

Zak pulled away to gently wipe your tears with his thumb. "No, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. It was all me. I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it if that's what it takes for you to forgive me."

You weren't sure how to feel. Zak obviously had some issues he needed to resolve, but he did still hold your heart. In almost a year of dating, you had never had any arguments or anything larger than a disagreement. Even though he was headstrong and stubborn, there had never been an issue and now you felt like you were at a crossroad.

---

"I should go. I know I barged in here, but I needed to talk to you." He wiped his own tears and stood up. He fiddled with his keys for a minute and you realized he was taking the key to your house off. He set it gently on the coffee table. It broke your heart even more. The last thing you wanted was for this to end. But he was already gone.

Here's Part 2

Ahahaha cliffhanger. I'm so happy this is out of my head. I don't really know where this came from but I hope you enjoy. I know it's been a hot minute since I wrote for Zak. Comment for PT. 2 :)

[the-bau-quinjet]

You Belong With Me

Chapter 5 of In Breakable Heaven!! 

Summary: Penelope has a Halloween party!

Warnings: none 

Word Count: ~3100

You woke up slowly, not realizing you were on the couch with another human. As usual, you tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but instead of landing on the other side of your bed you land squarely on the floor between your couch and coffee table. Spencer shifted on the couch to look down at you as the two of you burst into laughter.

“Are you okay?” He struggled to get the words out through the laughter. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” Finally managing to stand up, you grab the trash from the night before and throw it out. Spencer grabs the dishes from behind you and loads them into the dishwasher. You are about to offer Spencer some breakfast when he breaks the silence.

 “I should probably get going, but, uh, I can’t find my phone.” You can’t help but smile at the dejected look on his face.

 “It probably sunk into the couch, here” you hand him your phone “You can call it while I look under the cushions.” He takes your advice, dialing his phone and holding yours up to his ear.

 “It’s ringing.” You can hear it begin to vibrate as you remove cushions from the couch. “Got it!” You hold the phone up victoriously, answering the call. “Hello Doctor. What can I do for you?” You can’t help but tease him a little. He hangs up your phone, trading it for his. 

“Thank you. I really do have to go, but I’m really glad I got to see you again.” “Me too. I mean, I don’t have to go. I live here. I just meant I’m really happy I got to see you again too. And now you have my phone number, so we can talk more!” You force yourself to stop rambling before you say something even more embarrassing. 

He just grins at you, glad to not be the one rambling for once, and waves goodbye as he says “I’m looking forward to it.”

 --

 Around 4 PM a couple days later, you get a text from Spencer. You two had been texting pretty consistently since he left your apartment. But this text feels like a birthday gift from up above when you read the five simple words. Not that you would tell him today is your birthday. That would be weird to just randomly bring up.

 From Spencer: “Are you busy right now?”

 To Spencer: “Nope. I just got back from the bookstore.”

 It takes what feels like eternity for him to respond. Unbeknownst to you, he is pacing his apartment, working up the nerve to press send.

 From Spencer: “Do you want go see a movie? There’s a new Scream that just started in theaters and since Halloween is right around the corner, I thought it might be fun.”

 You can’t help but squeal a little when you read and reread the message.

 To Spencer: “I would love to! I love Halloween.”

 From Spencer: “Great, I can pick you up at 5?”

 To Spencer: “See you then”

 You instantly drop what you were working on to get ready. You have to pick out something to wear that says you’re interested but isn’t too much for going to see a movie. You decide on a pair of dark wash jeans, black combat boots, and a light sweater that ties in the back. It’s cute, comfy, and very fall. Just as you finish your mascara, you hear a knock on your door. You grab your purse and swing it open to find Spencer standing there in a black button up, dark jeans, a maroon cardigan, and of course, black converse. He looks incredible. You can feel the blush on your cheeks as he looks at you. “Ready to go?”

 “Yep, just let me grab my keys.” And with that, the two of you are walking back down to his car. You arrive to the theater 15 minutes before the movie, the perfect amount of time to get some snacks! You insist on buying the popcorn and sweet treats since he bought the tickets. You make your way into the theater and see it’s mostly empty except for a few people in the back. You find two seats in the middle and sit down. You’re honestly a little nervous because even though you love scary movies and haunted houses, you still get freaked out pretty easily. The scare is why you love it, but also why you’re nervous.

 “Are you okay?” Spencer’s question cuts off your train of thought. 

You decide to answer honestly “yeah, I love scary movies. I just… get scared… Wow that was stupid.” You can feel the blush creeping up again as you try to come up with a better way of describing it.

 “That’s not stupid at all. It’s really all because of adrenaline and other fear induced hormones. It is common for people to seek out adrenaline inducing situations because the brain itself won’t determine how much danger you are in. It only recognizes the fear and produces adrenaline to combat it.” You inadvertently cut him off when you hug him, muttering a quiet thank you. He’s too distracted by the scent of your perfume to continue on about adrenaline.  

 Ten minutes in and the movie hasn’t been that bad yet. You can’t tell if you’re disappointed or glad you aren’t screaming like crazy. Just as you let your guard down, there’s a jump scare that has you grabbing Spencer’s arm for safety. He laughs, seemingly unfazed by the cheap scare, and shifts so he is holding your hand. “Just squeeze my hand when you’re scared” he whispers in your ear. You feel the butterflies again as you nod at him. You squeeze his hand on and off throughout the rest of the movie, blushing when his thumb starts to rub circles on your hand.

 When the movie is over, the two of you decide to go across the street to a diner for some real dinner. You are right in the middle of eating breakfast for the third time that day when both your phones go off. Glancing down, you see a text from Penelope.

 From PG: “Y/N!! I am having an impromptu Halloween party and I do not want to hear it that you are too busy. Get your butt over here by 9!!”

 To PG: “You got it! Costume?”

 From PG: “Of course! I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 You look up at Spencer “Penelope’s party?” You immediately try to think of a costume you can pull together from what you’ve got at home. It’s already October 27th, but you hadn’t planned a costume yet. 

“Yep, I guess I have to go find a costume.” Spencer replies, running his hands through his hair. 

“Same here. I have no idea what I’m going to wear.”

 “I can drop you back at your apartment if you want? So you can get ready.” You sigh, he is obviously right but you were hoping the night would last a little longer. 

“That would be great, thank you.” At least you know you’ll see him soon.

 Getting ready goes a lot easier than you anticipated. You pull together a young, country Taylor Swift costume with denim cutoff shorts, cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, a navy tank top, and a matching flannel. You decide to grab your acoustic guitar just to add to the look. It’ll work. You finish your makeup and leave in a hurry. Penelope is not one to be kept waiting.

 You get to Penelope’s apartment at 9:02. “What took so long? I thought you would be right over after I texted.” She scolded as she opened the door.

 “I wasn’t home, so I had to go home and throw together a costume” you laugh as she looks you up and down, doing a little twirl. She looks you in the eye before confirming your costume “Country Taylor Swift, not bad.”

 “Why thank you! Might I add you make an incredible vampire!” You say, lifting your hat off your head. Penelope just rolls her eyes and opens the door wider for you to come in. You immediately spot the rest of the team as other the other guests. Emily, Derek, JJ – who brought Will - Hotch, and Rossi. You didn’t know them all that well, but apparently you made a good impression since you were invited back. You aren’t sure if Spencer has told them anything about the two of you hanging out, so you decide not to say anything either. Instead, you admire everyone’s costumes.

 Emily is dressed as Black Widow in a tight all leather getup. Derek matches Penelope’s vampire costume, something you are sure she made him wear. JJ and Will make an adorable Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl. You are still trying to figure out Hotch and Rossi’s costumes when you hear them arguing. “I am very clearly a chef. Look at my hat.” Rossi says as he emphatically points to his head.

 “And I am from Men in Black.” Hotch declares. You are sure he is glaring from behind those sunglasses. They all turn and greet you when you get close enough.

 “Who are you dressed as?” Derek asks as he looks you up and down.

 “She’s clearly a young TS. The only thing missing is the signature curly blonde hair.” JJ looks shocked that Derek couldn’t put that together.

 “Ooh, since you’re dressed as a singer, you have to go first in karaoke. We can’t start until everyone is here though. Penelope’s rules.” Emily declares.

 “I guess I need a drink then!” You laugh as you head to the kitchen. You pour yourself a glass of white wine, not understanding how anyone can enjoy the vinegar like taste of the red, and walk back into the living room.

 You immediately spotted Spencer. He was wearing a loose white button up with puffy sleeves, a black vest, black jeans, and he had a red bandana tied around his head. Plus, he was carrying a prop sword. The converse didn’t really match, but you could still figure out the look. He was the dorkiest pirate you have ever seen and you loved it. Derek was giving him a hard time, but before you could do anything Emily was pulling you over to the karaoke machine.

 “It’s time to start karaoke!!” She was clearly a little tipsy, but you did not feel nearly drunk enough to sing in front of these people. You downed your wine, earning some whistles, and put the glass on the coffee table.

 “Emily! I have no idea what to sing.” You tried to protest.

 “Nonsense, you can sing a Taylor Swift song.” JJ chimed in “Something from an old album since your dressed country!”

 Emily immediately started a song before you could protest anymore and you were singing almost immediately.

 You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset.

 ‘At least it’s an easy song to perform’ you thought to yourself, having done it what felt like a million times. But they don’t know that. Before you knew it, the girls were all singing the end of the song with you.

 Have you ever thought just maybe, you belong with me? You belong with me.

 You chanced a glance at Spencer as you finished the song. You refused to look at him before that, knowing he would make you too nervous. Before you had a chance to comprehend the look on his face, Derek inadvertently interrupted the moment “Y/N you’ve been holding out on us. That was great!” He said. The others joined in on the praise as you turned red. You managed to squeak out a “thanks” before retreating to fill your wine glass. Spencer met you in the kitchen.

 “That really was an amazing performance. You should consider switching careers.” You laughed at his comment, it was pretty comical considering your side hobby. “No really. You would be amazing.”

 You turned even redder with the compliment. “Thanks Doc, I appreciate the confidence boost.” You almost told him then and there, but ultimately you were being called back to the living room to hear Rossi sing Bon Jovi.

 The night continued much the same until Penelope broke off into the kitchen. You were going to follow her, but Rossi pulled you back into a conversation and you missed the chance. Soon enough she was returning with a huge birthday cake. At first, you were shocked. Then you realized she was the Penelope Garcia. Figuring out someone’s birthday is child’s play to her.

 Then you were shocked again, because everyone was singing to Spencer. Apparently it was after midnight and his birthday is October 28th.

 Once everyone has a piece of cake, you walk up to Spencer hitting him on the arm, “Why didn’t you tell me today is your birthday?” 

He deflects the question easily.  “Today only just started, so I really didn’t have time. Plus you haven’t told me when your birthday is.”

 You instantly freeze at that. You can’t possible tell him your birthday was yesterday. That would be so awkward. He immediately senses the tensions and asks “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

You practically run out of the room calling “yep I’m fine, all good, 100% a-o-kay.”

 Spencer, confused by your quick exit, decided to look at your license to figure out your birthday. Maybe he could surprise you with something. Realization dawned on his features as he read the date, seeing that your birthday was yesterday.

 --

 You were relieved when Spencer didn’t chase after you to figure out exactly why you practically sprinted away from the conversation. You decided to just enjoy the rest of the party.

 Around 2 AM everyone was heading out. You hung back a little since Spencer hadn’t left yet, hoping you’d be able to walk out with him. God, you feel like a teenager again. Secretly crushing on a guy who clearly only likes you as a friend. Ugh.

 “Y/N!” You break out of your pitying thoughts to see Penelope and Spencer standing in front of you. Great. How long were you just staring at the ground? “You okay?” Penelope asks, looking at you with clear concern.

 “Yeah, I’m just tired. You threw quite the party!” You tried to joke to clear the air. “Thanks for inviting me, Pen.” You hugged her as you looked around for your purse, grabbing it off the chair. Spencer has been staring at you with a contemplative look on his face during the whole encounter.

 “I’ll see you soon, right?” You looked back as you opened the door. “Of course, my lovely!” Penelope smiled as you and Spencer left, him calling a quick goodbye as he walked out after you. You didn’t say anything until you noticed Spencer was walking towards your apartment with you.

 “What are you doing?” Ugh, real subtle. What kind of a question is that?

“Walking you home. It’s my birthday, you can’t say no.” You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, but there was something serious in his eyes. “Why didn’t you say your birthday was yesterday? We could have celebrated!” He seemed genuinely confused.

 “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never been the kind of person who does well with all that attention. My birthday was never a huge deal growing up, so I haven’t really made a big deal out of it now. Pen wanted a Halloween party, not a birthday party. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” You couldn’t make eye contact with him. You’ve never really talked about these insecurities with anyone.

 “First of all, she clearly didn’t mind having a party for both because she had a birthday cake for me. I am completely sure that she would have decorated it for both of us had she known. Second, you deserve to have people make a big deal. You are an incredible person, Y/N. You are extraordinarily kind, selfless, and beautiful.” He pauses for a second before pulling something out of his bag. “I didn’t know your birthday was even in October, but I bought these a few days ago. I was going to give them to you after the movie, but then Garcia called and we split up. If you don’t like them I can take them back I just thought since you twist your earrings around so much, maybe they were bothering you and maybe a new pair would help. Penelope actually helped me pick them out, although she doesn’t know that. She just mentioned how she thought you would like them when we were at the farmer’s market.”

 Tears sprung to your eyes as you realized how much thought he must’ve put into this. You couldn’t help but throw yourself into a hug whispering “thank you, Spence. That is so thoughtful.” He rubbed your back until you stepped back from the hug. You opened the box to find a pair of dainty white gold earrings. One was a moon and the other a star. “They are beautiful.” You whispered into his ear as you pulled him in for another hug.

Stepping back again, the two of you made your way to your apartment. Upon arrival, you confessed, “I actually have something for you too. It’s upstairs though, so you have to come inside.” He smiled as you pulled him into your building.

 “I obviously didn’t know your birthday is today, but you told me about breaking your watch and when I saw this in the store window I thought of you and it just looked perfect.” You watched as he slowly opened the watch box, pulling out a simple brown leather band with a white watch face surrounded by a silver casing. It honestly screamed Dr. Spencer Reid. The watch face isn’t too modern and the leather band matches his satchel.

 “Y/N, it’s perfect. Thank you.” He closed the box, hugging you to say thank you. Looking into his eyes, you realized with 100% certainty you are falling for Dr. Spencer Reid. “Let’s go to sleep” is all you can say in response. You pull him into the bed and snuggle as close as you dare, too afraid to say anything else when you don’t know how he feels. The two of you drift into a restful sleep, not even bothering to change from your costumes.

 --

 You wake up due to the muffled voice of Spencer in the kitchen. You can smell the coffee, so you quickly change into some pajamas before walking out to join him. He glances at you apologetically while you pour the coffee into two mugs, adding equal amounts of sugar to both.

 As soon as he hangs up, he’s hugging you goodbye. “I’m so sorry, we have a case. We are supposed to be at the jet in 30 minutes.”

 “Don’t worry about it Doc. Go save the world.” You decide to listen to Superman on repeat for an hour while you clean.

tag list: 

@mac99martin​ @goldeng1rl8​ @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets15 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat

[batarella]

All Grown Up (Jason Todd x Reader)

Do I need a cleansing? Probably.

-Requested-

user88777777: “I'm not sure if you're doing requests? And of not that's ok but I have an idea?! Can you write a smut where Jason and reader are having sex in wayne manor and alfred walks in on them and Jason goes downstairs in the morning and Alfred's like "you're all grown up"

WORDS: 2213 WARNINGS: SEMI PUBLIC SEX IN THE FOREST. ORAL SEX. 69 WITH THE BEST DICK IN THE WORLD.

Masterlist

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You were so fucking horny.

He knew you had your hands right on top of his clothed abs on purpose. You couldn’t stop running your fingers down the hard crevices. Jason pulled on the throttle and drove faster out of the island, where there were trees littering an acre of empty lot and the road went straight into Wayne Manor. He was horny, too. You could see the sweat coming out of his neck. Burying your nose into his nape, your hand went further down.

“Playtime after we get off this bike, Y/N,” he said through his helmet. He was grinning ear to ear.

You inhaled into his neck. He turned further into the island, and the only light that showed the way was the motorcycle’s headlight. A movie date at the manor’s theater. That’s what he promised you. “What do you wanna watch, babe?”

“Your dick sliding in and out of my pussy,” you breathed, grazing your lips onto his skin. “Fuck.” He was hard. You could feel it.

“Never mind that movie, then.”

“Let’s do it at the cave. Bruce is out for patrol. No one will be there.”

“There are cameras at every corner. Unless you're into that stuff.” He winked. Jason sped even faster past the trees.

“How ‘bout the library? You can read a few of your classics while I suck you off-“

“Mother fucker, you're killing me.”

“I love you,” you grinned.

He slowed down his bike, just when you thought he wanted to get to the manor even faster. “Jay?”

The bike came to a complete stop. He parked it, took off his helmet, and took off yours. He pulled you up and kept kissing you hard while his hand squeezed your ass. Jason took your hands and walked you into the trees, farther from the road so no one could see them. “I’m so fucking hard. Let’s make this quick.”

He pushed your back against a tree trunk and pushed his much larger self against your body. Jason bit your lip, and your hands were all over him. Snaking under his shirt, your fingers tracing his pecs, his abs, then you held the large bulge on his pants. Jason pulled your shirt up your bra, then pulled them slightly down to expose your breasts to the cold, nipping air. Your heavy breaths were cut short when Jason trailed his hand up your cleavage, up to your neck, squeezing at just the amount of pressure that you loved.

His lips were so rough, teeth drawing blood from your lips, numbing them so wonderfully you moaned at the sensation. Jason forcefully flipped you over, pushing your front against the tree while you heard him unbuckle his pants off.

“Fuck,” you gasped, then he pulled down your pants just under your ass. A sharp sting on your ass cheek soon followed. Your hands gripped tightly onto the tree, your nails digging into the bark when Jason sucked on your neck, his tongue drawing circles with his one hand still squeezing your neck and the other holding your breast.

Jason pushed into you, raw and hard. He couldn’t wait any longer. You pushed your ass out, arching your back as much as you could when your head was being held back by his strong arm so he could kiss you, biting into your lip again when he thrusted again.

“Yes.” You squeezed your eyes shut when the feel of his lips, his hands and his massive cock stretching out your pussy so wide all sent your mind dancing on the light clouds. You loved this man so much, and it just so happened that his dick was the absolute best as making you come. Jason squeezed your neck harder, and he moaned your name into your ear. The way he whispers against it, his breath tickling your ear and his teeth biting into it sent your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You pushed your ass out even further and spread your legs. Jason’s hand was strong pulling and pushing your whole body, bruising your hips in the best way possible. He snapped his hips into your ass. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, just like that!” you kept crying, mewling and holding onto the bark when the burn inside your walls swelled up, and you felt that familiar coil in your stomach. Jason sensed it and fucked you even harder. You couldn’t stay here long. But the thrill of getting caught. Fuck. You could get off from it alone. Jason slapped your ass again, and that one spot that drove you mad, he purposefully stimulated with the tip of his cock.

You were twitching, and every drag of his cock sent pulsating tremors down the ends of your whole body. Jason covered your mouth just as you came undone, biting into his hand and the other gripping his own to hold yourself up as you shook, your knees trembling. He kept going, faster, then you felt the familiar warmth of his cum spewing inside you. He breathed heavily into your ear, leaning his head against yours, and you both came down your high with a softer kiss on the lips. Jason’s grip on you loosened, slowly turning you around so he could kiss you better. He held your waist, grinning between his sweet kisses.

You heard a large car speed by, narrowly missing Jason’s bike.

“That’s our queue,” he said. “The big guy’s out for the night. I’m not done with you yet, baby.”

His thumb soothed your lips, and you looked right into his eyes as you sucked on it like you would his cock. “Fuck,” he breathed, watching you and sinking his thumb deeper into your mouth. Already, he was getting hard again.

You both put your clothes back together. A bit of cum seeped out your pussy and stained your underwear. You didn’t care. You both went back onto the bike and drove towards the manor, which was merely another five minutes away.

Jason held your hand and walked you both to the front door, ringing the doorbell.

“Master Jason,” Alfred greeted him. “Miss Y/N.”

“Hi Alfred.” He stepped inside.

“You're spending the night, I believe?”

“Hope Bruce wouldn’t mind.”

“As always, sir.”

His hand on you was squeezing tight. Jason was too quick to pull you into the library, only turning on the lamp by a desk.

You marveled at his large corner of books. The Great Gatsby. Moby Dick. Little Women. Hamlet. Books of the like, arranged in perfect alphabetical order. The man was a nerd and you loved him even more for it. Jason circled his arms around your waist and settled his head on your shoulder.

“We can skip the reading,” he whispered, and his hand on your waist squeezed harder. You hummed, turning around to kiss him. You made out for a little while, your hand over his bulge once again to feel him grow harder and harder. His hand went under your pants to grab your ass, but you pushed his hand away and knelt down in front of him.

He forgot to pull up his fly from a while ago. You giggled, then pulled his pants down to his knees and slowly licked up his hardening length.

“Jason…” you moaned, and his hand gripped your hair to pull your head. Slowly, delicately, you pumped him with your hand, then slowly dragged your wet lips grazing over his sensitive tip. He almost jizzed just at that, then you kitten licked the bottom of the tip and tasted a bit of pre cum seep out. You could taste yourself still on his length. And you knew how you tasted from all the times he’s asked you to suck his fingers after he’s fucked you with them, or from your own fingers when he was far away, watching you from his phone.

You winked at him when you took half of him in, his hand pulling your head back and forth. You widened your mouth and let him fuck it at his pace. Then you pulled your pants off, spreading your legs as your fingers played with yourself. Jason pulled you hard, bottoming out. You could feel his length stretching your throat, chocking and gagging you with tears down your face, and your fingers harshly circling your clit. Your face glowed red, and he pulled entirely out just to push into your mouth again.

Jason didn’t come yet, but he took your chin and kissed you, hard. Then he set himself on the floor before you and pulled you on top of him as he laid down. Your legs were on his sides, and you grinding against his cock while his hand still gripped your hair.

“Sit on my face,” he growled. And you could feel your wetness stream down your thighs. You inched to his head, then turned to face the other way so you could watch his cock. You lowered yourself, then felt his hot breath against your cunt.

You felt him spit at your hole, and you moaned. Your clit was grazing against his bottom lip, then he circled it with his tongue. Jason held your hips and you took your shirt off to squeeze your own breasts. Fuck, his tongue just entered inside you. It was hot, burning, and it was soft. Fucking hell, this man. And his finger, stimulating the outside of your asshole, you could no longer hold back your moans.

His cock was leaking, so you bent over and took him in your mouth, the cock curving down to your neck. You sucked him off to suppress your own moans. And it worked, if not for the vibrating hums up your pussy and his dick. You sat there quietly, feeling the ecstasy from the outside of your cunt and choking into his cock. Without his strong hands, you couldn’t take the whole of him in. So you pumped the bottom of his length while you sucked on him hard.

Jason’s lips were encircling your clit, and his tongue violated it to the point where the shivers down your limbs almost made you fall off of him. “Oh!” you screamed, then moaned with him in your mouth. You took as much of him as you could, just how he liked it, then he came apart.

His cum spilled over your mouth, breast, and hair. You’ll have to wash this off tonight. But his moans, you could feel him shaking, furiously lapping at your cunt the more he came. You dove back in and swallowed around him, just as you felt his thumb dip into your pussy and you squirted all over his mouth. You stopped sucking him, gasping as you sat back and felt his hands go up to hold your waist. You held your head back, riding your high and moving your hips. Your whole body came apart. You were writhing, holding back most of your screams. And the mind-blowing orgasms had you weak and almost limbless.

Jason kissed your pussy, then you swung your leg over just to straddle him again, facing him this time as he sat up, then kissed him with the sweet, slow kisses you always had after fucking. His touch on you was gentle now, brushing your hair back and his hands holding your hips.

“Master Jason-”

You covered yourself and grabbed your shirt from the floor, pulling it on hurriedly while Jason zipped his pants up and stood. “Hey-y, Alfred-“

“Master Bruce will be home early tonight.” The old man faced away from the sight but continued talking. “Here’s a towel. Do clean up after yourself.”

Fucking hell. You buried your face into your hands. The moment you heard the door close you nudged his arm and stood. “I thought you fucking locked the door.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. He continued to laugh until you playfully pushed him. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

“Let’s take this to my room.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He woke up to your sleeping form, bare back turned the other way. Jason went up to you, kissing your shoulder. You were still asleep, and it was almost noon. The amount of sex you had last night sent you dead asleep and his thighs burning. Never mind how he works out like a beast every single day. Fucking you always got him sore.

Jason got up and pulled his pants off from the floor. He’ll bring you breakfast from downstairs, ready for you just as you’d wake up. He knew you loved that. Slowly making his way down the large staircase, he ruffled his hair and went to the kitchen.

Alfred was there wearing an apron. “Mornin’ Alfred.”

“Good morning, Master Jason.”

“That for me?”

“This is for Master Damian. Your and Miss Y/N’s meal is on the table there.”

“Thanks.” He got a tray and placed your food, balancing them out. Just as he was about to walk away with it, he turned back to the butler.

“And uh, sorry ‘bout last night.”

“Oh, not to worry, Master Jason. I’ve witness far worse from Master Dick. On multiple occasions.”

He stopped turned his ladle from the pot, then looked at Jason.

“You’ve grown up, dear boy.”

Jason smiled at him. “Thanks, Alfred.”

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Ya’ll need Jesus

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