#I’ll be honest I don’t remember the last time I felt truly loved

[shitty-late-night-writing]

I don’t know why you telling that you don’t love me anymore doesn’t hurt.

I don’t really care.

You say there was lack of communication on both ends but it didn’t feel like that to me.

You were the one that never communicated.

I would asked you if you wanted to go out and do something with me.

Going to the zoo.

The movies.

Out to fucking eat.

And all I got was a yes or a maybe.

But then it would come to that day and I would message you.

Nothing.

Three messages later and it’s now late afternoon.

“Sorry can’t tonight I got a lot of homework to do.”

“Sorry not feeling well”

“Sorry forgot I had other plans”

You never once asked me if I wanted to go out.

I don’t care that this relationship ended.

It’s whatever.

I’ll be honest I did like you before but I wasn’t going to ask you out.

I know I’m unloveable.

But then your stupid fucking friends got in my head telling me that you wanted to date me but was too scared to ask.

They kept asking me until I did.

My bad I guess.

Oh and I won’t apologise for something that’s not my fault.

Never again.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

A race for love p.5

Hii guyss, here's part 5 of the love triangle between Ollie and Franco, if you have missed part 4 here it is.

- Austrian Grand Prix 2023 -

After watching Oliver’s F2 race, your day quickly spiralled into chaos. As soon as you returned, your dad was waiting, immediately asking where you’d been all morning. Before you could catch your breath, he had you helping out at the motorhome for the rest of the afternoon, right through the main race. The hours flew by in a blur of tasks—organizing, assisting the crew, and finally helping them pack up everything for the next race.

You hadn’t stopped once, and though the non-stop activity was exhausting, you welcomed it. Being busy kept your mind off things, though a small part of you felt a twinge of regret for not being able to visit the other paddock to say goodbye to Franco or Oliver. As the day wound down and the last of the equipment was packed, you realized how quickly time had slipped away.

Just as you were about to head back and call it a day, your phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, you couldn’t help but smile when you saw Franco’s name. Despite the whirlwind of the afternoon, that small message from him instantly brightened your mood.

As you open Franco’s message, your heart skips a beat.

"Hey, I looked for you after the race, but you were nowhere to be found. I just wanted to check if you were okay. Also… I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get on the podium today. Really wanted it."

Though the message seems simple, there’s something deeper in his words, a kind of quiet frustration. What you don’t know is that Franco had been determined to impress you today, pushing himself harder than usual in hopes of standing on that podium with you watching. Fourth place had felt like a letdown—not just for the race, but because he couldn’t show you what he was truly capable of.

You smile softly at his concern, quickly typing back:

"I’m so sorry, Franco! My dad asked for my help, and I’ve been busy with the team all afternoon, helping them pack up for the next race. I didn’t even have time to stop by and say goodbye to anyone!"

You pause, wondering how to word your next thought. Your fingers hover over the screen before you start typing again.

"But I saw you race! Even though you didn’t get a podium, you were amazing out there. I really think you have so much potential, Franco. You’re going to make it, I know it."

You hit send, feeling a little shy. To you, it’s just an honest compliment—he’s a talented driver, after all. But Franco’s heart swells as he reads your message. He smiles at the words, the disappointment from earlier easing a little as he re-reads, "you were amazing out there."

For you, it was just a race—another part of the weekend’s excitement—but for Franco, it had been his chance to prove himself to you. Yet, here you are, unknowingly telling him that he didn’t need a podium for you to notice him. That simple innocence, the way you genuinely support him, only makes his feelings grow.

Franco’s reply comes quickly, his usual playful tone shining through.

"I’m glad you think so. I’ll just have to make up for it at Silverstone. Are you coming to that race too?"

You grin, already feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of seeing him again, but you also remember Silverstone is a big weekend for McLaren. Typing back, you reply:

"Yes, I’ll be there! It’s McLaren’s home race, so I’m really looking forward to it. But I’ll definitely stop by the F3 paddock to see you."

The thought of juggling your time between Franco and the rest of the weekend fills you with anticipation, but you’re eager to support both. Franco’s response comes in almost immediately.

"Looking forward to it already. Maybe this time I’ll actually get to say goodbye before you disappear with your dad," he teases, though there’s a warmth in his words.

You can’t help but laugh softly at his message, quickly typing back.

"I promise! No disappearing acts this time."

After a few more playful exchanges, you tuck your phone away, the excitement building inside you for Silverstone. Between the McLaren excitement and the chance to see Franco again, the next race weekend is already shaping up to be even more thrilling.

As the day winds down and you’re helping your dad finish packing, you glance at your phone, already counting the days until Silverstone. Just as you’re about to leave with him, your phone buzzes again. Expecting it to be Franco or maybe a reminder from the team, you casually unlock it, only to feel your stomach drop when you read the message:

"Franco is not who you think he is. You aren’t special."

The words seem to leap off the screen, chilling you for a moment. You blink, rereading the message, confusion swirling in your mind. Who could’ve sent this? And why? You glance around the paddock, but everything seems normal—busy, loud, and crowded with people finishing up for the day. But this message… it sticks with you, a strange and unsettling feeling creeping in.

You try to shake it off as you follow your dad, but the words replay in your mind. What did they mean, "Franco is not who you think he is"? And why would someone send this to you?

With the excitement of Silverstone ahead, the anonymous message leaves a shadow hanging over your thoughts as you walk toward the car, wondering what exactly the next race might bring.

Part 6

[saltofmercury]

* waving* heelllloooo, just want to say thank you for the “ break in” series! I love König and Civilian!readers, there’s not enough non military reader stories out there so i am always hunger for more.can I put in a request? I don’t know why this idea pops into my head and not sure if Soap has a younger sister, imagine his sister had a crush on König from meeting him during military family day ( im sure theres no such event lol) or some off duty team outing. Something like..

Sister: who’s that really big guy there johnny?

Soap, knowing his sis too well : oh no you don’t.. dont go there darling

Sis: but he is so cute like a huge costco teddy bear..very huggable

All the while König overheard the who convo, flattered +embarrassed + in disbelief

Thank you! If it’s too much just ignore me its ok 😂

Pairing: König x f!reader ft. Johnny + Ghost

Summary: You tag along to Johnny's party.

A/N: Thank you @sofasoap

"The Favorite MacTavish"

“You’re still on the fastest route.”

The navigation on loop. You focused on what you could tone out Johnny with.

Looking out the window, a blur of cars turned into a blur of bricks, that in turn ended up to just dirt and then open land. Dust. You’ve been sitting as a passenger princess the entire ride there. Johnny but insisting on lecturing you about what was expected of you.

It felt more like briefing you if you were being honest.

“I’m dead serious ya hear?” Johnny had turned and pointed a finger to you.

“You got to tone it down with Ghost.” “You were off ya trolley last time, I told ya to leave the poor man alone.”

You smiled. “It wasn’t anything too bad.” 

Your mind flashed back to the last get together Johnny and his friends had. You had met the legendary “Ghost” that Johnny had worked with. A man with a skull face covering, taller and larger than any other of his teammates. A deep set British accent. (You and Johnny still argue if it’s Southern or Manchester.)

Ghost kind of bothered you that he was at a party. The man had radiated big fuck off vibes from you. It made no sense for him to be here. 

All you saw was… someone crying for attention.. Or even a little competition.

You approached Ghost with a deal, if he were to out drink you, you would shut Johnny up the entire night, and if you were to outdrink him, he would join the group for 20 minutes. 

The little game turned dangerous and it wasn’t until you had almost bested him in the tenth beer of the night that he almost tapped out. Almost beat by a MacTavish. It didn’t help that you were flirting with him a bit when he started to become sloppy, which you think became in your best interest.

One of the other teammates had lost it.

“Ghost is going to lose!”

Ghost looked loopy. Not even his skull painted covering could hide that. He ended up going to the cooler, bringing out 3 beers, chugging them one by one, and then remained in his stoic composure. It was truly a sight.

All of Johnny’s teammates never let that one go.

“Can’t believe Johnny’s little sister thought she could out drink Ghost.”

“I can’t believe she had him stuttering. Never heard the LT at a loss for words.”

“I think I like his sister more than Johnny.”

Johnny never lived it down, and never heard the end of it from Ghost.

“I actually don't know why I bothered bringing ya.” He continued.

You missed your older brother. It was hard seeing him a few times a year. With any opportunity to see him, including riding along to party with his teammates, you took. It helped that he had a soft spot for you.

“I won't make any promises, but I’ll leave Ghost alone.”

*

It wasn’t until an hour later that you had arrived. You remembered what Johnny had said. “No teasin’ Ghost.” “No trying to out drink anyone.” “Behave!”

You both walk up into a small beige house. There’s a plain white metal gate in front of it, but no live plants, just dirt. Endless dirt, dust, and rocks surrounding it, and a few other SUVs, Jeeps, and sedans.

You walk inside, right behind Johnny, mumbling in your head—

“No drinking, no ghosting.”

How annoying.

Once inside, you’re greeting everyone behind Johnny.

Gaz looks at you. “Well if it isn’t Ghost’s favorite little sister!”

You smile. “No ghosting tonight.”

Immediately looking toward Johnny, who was nodding in approval.

*

Much later when you're inside that you see him, along with a brand new set of faces that you aren’t familiar with.

There’s a lady with a small ponytail, some guy on a tablet and sunglasses on, and a guy who's got a black face mask on. This particular individual is more distant, pushed further away from everyone else. Looks big, bigger than Ghost. 

He’s not alone, he’s got some other guy next to him talking about some game he was playing on his phone.

“Steamin’ Jesus” you think to yourself. How did this massive guy end up here?

You grab a hold of Johnny,

“Johnny, who’s that over there?”

Johnny had barely taken a sip of his 3rd beer before his eyes went wide. 

“Aw Jesus Christ, no you don’t. Don’t you dare go there.” he says, grabbing a hold of your wrist. 

“Oh for fucks sake, I’m just asking who the guy is!” 

“Haud yer weesht! It's the same ol’ script with every single one of my teammates I swear to god.”

“Is he new?”

“He’s not with us.” He stops for dramatic effect. 

Whispers- “That group over there is a different team.”

Oh. 

The big guy is holding an electrolyte drink as opposed to any alcohol. He takes up the entire chair and he’s polite, nodding his head to his teammate, but quickly glancing back and forth towards you and Johnny.

“And I swear to god, you better not think of stepping over there, I’ll get Ghost to restrain you.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You said no Ghostin…”

Johnny pulled you a little closer to him, then quietly (his case of quiet) says

 “Do you know what those guys do?”

“Military?”

“Christ on a bike… those there are contracted killers.”

You snort.

“Yeah fuckin' right Johnny and what do you call yourself? Saints?”

“I swear you’re so daft. Don’t go near them, stay with what you know.”

“I just want to introduce myself to them, it would be rude no?”

The guy in the mask looked harmless. He wasn’t drinking, he was among friends, he was simply waiting for someone to approach him.

*

The entire night you keep thinking of ways to get over it. You’ve got plenty of liquid courage in you now though.

“Just because he’s bigger than the rest of you, you’re intimidated.” The liquid courage was bubbling up inside you. 

“Fucking hell, would you drop it?” Johnny says

“I just want to talk to him, Johnny!”

You made your way over to him.

Johnny’s eyes looked like they could burst out of their sockets.

“Hi, how are you? You know what, you don’t seem bad at all, you just seem big, but that's ok.”

The man looked at you wide eyed, beneath his mask formed some crinkle surrounding his eyes.

“I just wanted to let you know that you don't intimidate me, but quite frankly you encourage me to give you a hug.”

He smiled now, you could see it.

“You’re like a huge teddy bear even, have you been to the states? They got a whole warehouse full of teddy bears the size of you.”

A small laugh from him and his fingers running through his hair.

“In fact, I kind of wish I had you as my own size for a teddy bear… what do you say?”

Before he could respond, you were yanked up, thrown over someone’s shoulders.

“That’ll do mini MacTavish..” A British accent. Ghost was hauling you away.

You felt dizzy, and kept your eyesight on the big man.

“I MEAN it! You are not intimidating you're just in need of a hug.”

[skybluewritings]

Last summer Part 5, Felix Catton X fem!reader

Warning: Suggestive themes

Note: Thank you so much for all of the lovely comments and likes!

For some reason he wouldn’t even look at her over the breakfast table, at first she wondered if maybe he was hungover like she was but he’d barely spoke a word to anyone. And when she got to the pool later that morning he was nowhere to be seen. Venetia was already on a lounger a magazine in her lap.

 

Venetia noticed her and grinned. “How are you feeling this morning?”

 

“Like absolute death.” (Name) replied coming to lay on the lounger next to her.

 

Venetia laughed. “That would be the jelly shots we did, they tasted so good.”

 

 She laughed too rubbing at her temple. “Which is probably why I did like half a tray of them.”

 

“You got so drunk last night you fell in a bush.” Venetia reminded her.

 

“Please don’t, I’d forgotten about that.” She groaned. “In fact everything after the jello shots is a blur, I don’t even really remember how I got back to my bedroom.”

 

“Oh it was probably Felix, when we left you guys he was practically guiding you up the stairs.”

 

A part of her foggy memory came back, it was Felix carrying her in his arms down the hallway then he helped her into bed. And whilst that should have felt like enough she had a nagging feeling she had missed something? Is that why Felix was being so distant had she offended him last night?

 

“Did you sense that there was something off with Felix at breakfast? I have this feeling that maybe I hurt him last night and I can’t remember what I said.” She admitted.

 

Venetia shook her head. “You would never have.”

 

 “But that’s just it I’m so sure something happened. If I didn’t say anything then what else could it be?”

 

Venetia was quiet for a moment. “Can I be honest with you?”

 

Her throat tightened. “Yeah, go for it.”

 

“The two of you were really close at the party is it possible that maybe a line was crossed?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean that,” Venetia took her sunglasses off,” The two of you have this thing between you whether you realise it or not. Perhaps one of you tried it on with the other and got shot down?”

 

She knew her own feelings well enough for Felix and the past couple of weeks had given her some hope he felt the same. It wasn’t enough hope to be 100 percent certain, but it was there. What if last night she had thrown caution to the wind, made a move and had been rejected?

 

She took a deep breath. “If I admit this to you it stays between us.”

 

Venetia held out her pinky and (Name) shook on it. “I swear.”

 

“I do have feelings for him,” She swallowed hard, “So it’s possible he’s just feeling embarrassed because he had to reject me.”

 

A weight was lifted off her, she had never confessed how she truly felt about Felix to anyone let alone his sister.

 

“You’ll never know unless you speak to him.” Venetia told her.

 

“Okay fine I’ll-I’ll talk to him.” She agreed. “Thank you.”

 

“I should be the one thanking you actually.”

 

“Why?”

 

Venetia smiled at her. “For defending me in front of everyone, no one apart from Farleigh and Felix has ever had my back.”

 

She smiled back. “I would want someone to do the same for me.”

*

She knocked on Felix’s bedroom door several times but there was no response, she gave up and walked away defeated and a little annoyed. As she headed back down to the pool she ran into Farleigh, he opened his mouth to greet her but was cut off.

 

“Hey have you seen Felix anywhere?” She asked urgently.

 

“Good morning to you as well.” Farleigh responded. “Why do you need to find him?”


“I need to know if he’s okay.  Do you know where he is?” She told him.

 

“Well last time I saw him he’d gone off to town to buy ice for the dinner party tonight.”

 

It seemed convenient he had so suddenly left the house.

 

“Dinner party?”


He gave her an obvious look. “Yes the dinner party, the one that Elspeth hasn’t stopped talking about for weeks. The one we all have to be at!”

 

(Name) shut her eyes and rubbed at her temples. “Yep the dinner party. Oh my god I had totally forgotten.”

 

“Well they’re certainly interesting, so I’ll see you there.” Farleigh told her and walked away.

 

She would have to speak with him that night and get to the bottom of it.

*

The dinner party was as interesting as Farleigh had said. She was pretty sure the couple she was sat next to at one point had propositioned her for a threesome…The champagne was making some guests friendlier than others. But it was hard to focus on most of the inane conversation when Felix was once again still not looking at her. After dinner had finished the next part of the evening was about to begin. When they were in the hallway out of the dinning room she noticed Felix slope off, she politely excused herself to go join him.

 

She found him outside leant against the wall smoking, she had seen dressed in a suit before but there was something about this time that made her feel warm.

 

“Hey.” She said approaching him.

 

He looked up from the cigarette and glanced briefly at her. “Oh hi.”

 

“Is everything okay?” She gently asked.

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He replied bluntly.

 

She touched his arm. “Because you haven’t spoken to me at all today.”

 

He shrugged her off. “Maybe I don’t feel like talking.”

 

“Come on please!”

 

“I’m fine ok.” He said firmly.

 

She snatched the cigarette from him and threw it to the ground crushing it under her heel. He turned to her outraged.

 

“What the fuck was that for?”

 

She glared at him. “Can you stop acting like a little boy for five seconds and be my friend?!”

 

He rolled his eyes. “There’s that word again ‘friend’. Yeah that’s right I’m your fucking friend.”

 

She stared back at him not knowing what to say. It was then that everything from the previous night came back. The conversation in the back of the taxi, him carrying her to bed and then in her room when he placed her hand to his heart. And OH GOD- he had basically admitted to having feelings for her and she had been too drunk to respond. She hadn’t been the one to put herself on the line it had been him! And she’d inadvertently rejected him.

 

“Do you like me?” Her voice was quiet.

 

“Why do you sound so surprised?! I literally told you last night, but you made it pretty obvious that you don’t feel the same.”

 

She shook her head. “No that’s-that’s not true at all I just didn’t fully understand until now when I remembered everything.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “Wait did you forget about what happened?”

 

“Yeah, well I was really drunk.” She gingerly told him.

 

“Now that you understand what do you uh think about it?” He asked her.

 

“I really like you.” She confessed, feeling extremely jittery.

 

He laughed and softly took her hands in his. “I can’t believe this! The whole time I was into and you were feeling exactly the same.”

 

She had dreamed of the day he would finally return her feelings, but the timing was just awful. Soon she’d be leaving to live abroad for a year.

 

His grin faded a little when he noticed she was visibly less happy than him. “What is it? Is this not what you want?”

 

She let go of his hands. “This is really hard for me to do but I don’t think I can do this.”

 

His jaw clenched. “But we both like each other, what’s the problem?”

 

“Felix I’m leaving the country in less than two weeks for an entire year.”

 

“Who cares we can figure out!” He said, voice growing louder.

 

She ran a hand through her hair. “It would be fine at first, but the distance would eventually settle in, and we’d would fizzle out. I would rather not risk losing you, even if it meant never having you in the first place. You mean so much to me.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

 

 “I can’t believe you don’t even want to try. I’m willing to work at this, but you won’t even give us a chance!” He shouted.

 

“You think this is easy for me? Do you think this doesn’t hurt me too? Of course I want that but it just won’t work.” She shouted back.

 

He threw his hands in the air. “So, what we go back to being friends and pretend this conversation never happened?”

 

“Yes because I don’t see any other way to move forward!”

 

“Maybe you can do that, but I can’t.”

 

She winced at his words. “What do you mean by that?”

 

“That maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.” He snapped.

 

She could not believe how childish he was being.

 

She shoved him in the chest. “You know what, fuck you!”

 

“At least I’m not afraid!”

 

She gave him a dirty look. “That is rich coming from you. I bet anything you’d just fuck me then move on like you always do.”

 

She regretted the insult as soon as she’d said it. He became vacant of any emotion, then barged straight past her.

 

“Wait Felix.” She called after him but he didn’t bother to look back at her.

*

She was sat mournfully at the vanity desk in her room brushing her hair out. She knew she had messed up. How could she have said that to him? Regardless of how hurt she felt at him telling her they should no longer be friends she never should have insulted him so greatly. There was a knock at her door, she already knew it was Felix without even having to answer.

 

She opened the door and there he was, stood sheepishly before her. He was dressed in pyjamas but had pulled on a jumper.

 

“Can we go for a drive?” He asked.

*

There hadn’t been much conversation on the drive there but eventually the car came to a stop.

 

She squinted at the view. “Where are we?”

 

“This is just somewhere I used to drive to when everything felt like too much.” He told her.

 

He opened his car door and got out, she did the same. He had parked on a hillside in the darkness she could make out the wide expanse of fields down below them. The bright moonlight helped her to see. It was a brilliantly clear night, she could spot more constellations than she ever could back home.

 

They sat on the bonnet of the car both in their pyjamas. “This is a beautiful spot.” She told him.

 

“You should see it in the daytime.” He replied.

 

They both fell silent for a moment, it was his voice that broke it.

 

“I’m really sorry.” He apologised. “I shouldn’t have behaved like that, I was just hurt. If you want to stay friends then of course we can be. I’ll respect whatever decision you make.”

 

She was able to smile a little. “Thank you, that means a lot. And I’m so sorry too, I never should have insulted you like that. I was just lashing out, of course I don’t think you would ever discard me. You’ve always treated me with such respect.”

 

He nodded taking in what she’d said. “I never want to hurt you again like I did today.” He admitted.

 

 "It’s okay I understand why you acted like that.” She told him.

 

“It’s still not an excuse.”

 

“Even so.” She sighed.

 

“When did you first start liking me then?” He asked her with a light laugh.

 

This also made her laugh. “Seriously is that what you want to know?”

 

 “I can’t help it if I’m curious.”

 

She felt herself flush. “Well, I realised when one time we were in your uni room studying. You looked up at me for a moment, and I just kind of knew.”

 

“Studying that’s pretty hot.” He teased her, making her scoff.

 

Despite the joke in the darkness she could see how soft his gaze was.

 

She bumped her shoulder against his. “Come on, now you have to tell me when you realised you liked me?”

 

“We were at a party together and you were just so lit up talking to all these people. I was so proud to know you, to exist in the same room as you.”

 

She felt a thrill run through her at him using the words she had once used to describe him. Strangely something about the two memories felt connected.

 

“Wait a minute.” She breathed. “Was this around late April of last year?”

 

 “Yeah it was. Why?”

 

“I remember that on the day we studied we also went to a party.”

 

His eyes widened. “Did we both have the same realisation on the same day?”

 

She stared back at him just as amazed. “Yeah I think so.”

 

She leant her head on his shoulder. “God you are going to be hard to get over.”

 

He chuckled sadly, leaning his head against hers. “So are you.”

 

*

He had held her hand the entire car journey home, his fingers threaded through hers. When they had parted to go back to bed a strange tension hung in the air.

 

“So, I guess this is goodnight then.” She said fiddling with the metal of her bracelet.

 

He leant against the doorframe. “Yeah I suppose. Well goodnight.”

 

They both faltered in the doorway before she finally closed the door and he left. She got into bed but she was wide awake. They were really never going to be anything then?And it had been no one’s fault but her own. She tried to ignore the regret that was gnawing at her, it had been a smart choice. Right? They could both in time try to move past whatever this was and soon things would be normal. But could it ever be normal?  In the years to come how would she ever pretend they were just friends when she knew that once upon a time he had wanted as badly as she wanted him.

 

She needed to talk him, it still felt like they hadn’t fully discussed this. She didn’t know what she was going to say but she just needed to see him.

 

She tore the bed covers off her and opened the door that connected to the bathroom. But there he was at the other side of door his hand raised to knock.

 

“What are you doing?-” He asked bewildered.

 

She looked up at him, maybe she needed to stop thinking so much.

 

“What I should have done have in the first place.” She told him.

 

He gave her a confused look before she wrapped her arms around his neck, leant up and kissed him.

 

He pulled back for a second. “I-I thought you didn’t want to do anything?”

 

 “I know what I said but I couldn’t spend another second wondering it was like to kiss you!”

 

 That was all the convincing he needed. “Fuck it, come here.” He said cupping her face.

 

He softly pressed his lips to hers and this time kissed her back. It started off slow, she grasped at his jumper whilst one of his hands slid down to rest on her lower back pushing her closer into him. She tilted her head to the side deepening the kiss, his tongue slid against hers, the kiss became hot and dirty.

 

“Can I take your shirt off?” He asked against her lips.

 

“Yes absolutely!"

 

He went to pull the vest top over her head but it got stuck, they started to laugh as he tried to yank it off her. When it was off he stared down at her, a look of hunger in his eyes, her chest was completely bare. She suddenly felt a little shy. It wasn’t the first time someone had seen her naked but this was the first time it had really meant anything.

 

“Are you going to just stare me?” She nervously teased him.

 

“I’m sorry it’s just that you look so beautiful .” He told her.

 

“Oh.” She stammered before clearing her throat. “It doesn’t seem fair that I’m the only one shirtless.”

 

He playfully rolled his eyes at her. “Jesus someone’s eager.”

 

He pulled his shirt over his head, there was a dull ache between her legs as she took in the definition of his torso and the slope of his shoulders.

 

“I mean come on, seriously how do you look like that?” She asked in frustration.

 

He only laughed before leaning back into kiss her,

*********

She looked over at him and smiled. “I mean that was just-wow.”

 

He smiled back at her. “I know right, has it ever been like that for you before?”

 

She shook her head. “No, it’s never been like that.”

 

“I wish we’d done it sooner.” He said.

 

She turned on her side to look at him.

 

“I wanted you so bad when we were skinny dipping the night of the party.” She admitted.

 

“I wanted you when I saw you in that red bikini for the first time. It’s embarrassing to admit but I immediately got hard.” He let out an embarrassed laugh.

 

She lightly slapped his arm. “So that’s why you wouldn’t get in the pool!”

 

They continued to talk late into the night until eventually they fell asleep, neither of them once thinking of the future.

Taglist: @emitaylorsverson @twiceinabluemoon @real-lana-del-rey @jess-rye @billyismyidol23

[crash-and-cure]

Hallelujah (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit​

Summary: In which Cinderella is a no-nonsense, semi-workaholic nurse and Prince Charming is a drug-addicted rockstar on a downward spiral and newly discovered obsessive tendencies. Truly a fairy tale worthy of sin city.

A/N: Anybody ever open up requests and then disappear for like two weeks or am I alone? I promise that the next ones should be out sooner than this one at the cost of being shorter, but I came up with the opening line and I just went off. Did you know that gatorade used to be in glass bottles? It makes sense but it’s a weird thing to think about. Why am I telling you all this? Becuase I did about twenty minutes of research on this topic for a detail that ultimately did not make it into this story so this is my way of making up for it to myself. 

Warnings: Depictions of a person experiencing and accepting death. Depictions and POV of a person experiencing an overdose. Non-consensual drugging for both Elvis and the reader. Dubious consent (Please note this is not related to the non-consensual drugging, this is here due to alcohol and false pretenses being involved). Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping.  Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), and worship kink. Mentions of religion that borders on zealotry and a bible quote. Self-blame. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Angel” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18. 

Word Count: 10.8k

My Masterlist

They don’t know, Elvis thinks as he starts to sway. These folks don’t know they’re watching a murder. 

Elvis can feel it in his bones, that this stage is where he’s going to die. To be honest he felt it maybe five songs ago. He almost takes comfort in how fitting it is, that his life was a stage and now it’s gonna end on one. 

He knows he should want to fight it, if not for himself then for Lisa, Priscilla, his daddy, Dodger, somebody else who relies on him, anybody really. But he's so goddamn tired of all of it, and he just wants to rest. 

Not even an hour ago he had learned the hard truth about that son of a bitch. How he’s lied to him for years, and how that rat bastard clipped his wings. He had originally come out here with the intention of giving a hell of a performance, firing that asshole right up here, walking off stage and leaving Vegas forever. 

But I’ll show him. I’ll show ‘em all, he thinks hazily. I’m gon’ fly away from here, maybe all the way to the rock of eternity if I can.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says like he has a hundred times before. “Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” 

He had made that plan before his tongue started feeling like sandpaper in his mouth, his head started spinning like a top, and breathing became far more laborious than he remembers it ever being. He idly wonders if this is how his mama felt when she went. He can probably ask her when he sees her soon. Dying up here doesn’t scare him too much anymore now that he’s had time to accept that that is what's happening. So he figured if this was going to be his last performance, this was undoubtedly going to be his best one.

He never understood that phrase swan song, why sing when you know you’re going to die? But the better question now is why not sing when you know you’re going to die? Why not declare I’m dying and I want everybody to see it?

Let them watch, he thinks venomously as he breathes heavily into the mic for what will most definitely be the last time. Let them all witness what “Colonel Tom Parker” did to me.

“Ladies and Gentleman, you’ve been a lovely audience,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too slurred. “Thank you.”

In that single moment before he knows he’s going to collapse he looks one last time out into the audience he loved so much, but his blurry vision makes it impossible to see most of them. This is what he chose, this is who he chose over, everything his family, his friends, his health. The fact he can’t even see most of them, hurts him in a way that the drugs can’t mask. It’s cruel yet fitting really, this is nothing less than he deserves.

But in a sea of faces that all blur and blend together the one thing he can clearly see is you. You’re standing in the front row, your brows drawn together and concern marring your beautiful face, something he appreciates so that he can at least leave this earth knowing that at least someone cared. You're dressed in a pure white dress, something much more simple than he's used to from the women that attend his shows. Even amongst the women you’re surrounded by, you stand out as a daisy in a bed of roses, he’s glad at least the last thing he’ll ever see is something so beautiful.

It gets windy all of a sudden, as he feels cool air blow against the side of his face.

No… wait… he’s just falling. 

He hasn’t been sleeping much in the past few days, but if there was ever a time to do so, now feels like the perfect time for it. He simply waits for the inevitable feeling of his head hitting the stage, though with everything he took before coming out here he doubts he’ll even be able to feel that.

But it never comes. Instead he feels his head being cradled in a soft hand, and he opens his heavy eyelids and you’re there again. He watches as you use the table to scramble onto the stage before the curtains close, and he sees you up close for the first time. He doesn’t know if it’s from the spotlight behind you outlining your silhouette or something else entirely, but having a better look at you, your beauty goes from simple to nothing short of otherworldly. 

An angel? He thinks blearily. Mama always did say they would be beautiful. He can see that you’re saying something, but his head is too muddled to process any of it.

So you’re here to take me away from this awful place, he thinks with a small smile. He didn’t like to think about death too much before he was faced with. He is was a firm believer in a heaven and hell, and many things he’s done in his life have more than earned him a spot down below. But you’re here now so it couldn’t have been all that bad in the grand scheme of things. 

He reaches out to touch you and you grab onto his hand, look at it for just a second. He sees your worry grow as you get in closer to his face and he feels your feather-like but oh-so warm touch to his lips that feel so cold now. He feels other hands on him now trying to lift him up, and he notices his crew around him, but all he can focus on is you. It’s hard not to when you physically keep one of his eyes open, and he sees your worry go into full blown panic. 

He tries, but it’s getting hard to breathe let alone speak right now. Please, he wants to say, don’t leave me with them. All he’s able to do to convey this message is a pathetic squeeze to your hand, and suddenly you’re gone just as quickly as you came. He feels his eyes well up so afraid now he’ll die without you there. 

Everybody is surrounding him now trying to speak to him, but he’s desperately looking for you, and he feels as though there’s something he’s forgetting to do but he can’t remember what. Jerry comes into view and his mouth is moving and it looks like he’s shouting but nothing is coming out. Billy is there taking off his jacket, bunching it up underneath his head but still he can’t see you. Red’s slapping his face while Charlie’s pouring water on it, though he barely feels either of them. Everybody’s trying something, trying to save him, but he’s only concerned about you finding him and taking him away from here. 

All these hands are touching him, most of them he doesn’t know, or at least doesn’t recognize. Maybe he is going to hell or fuck, maybe Vegas is hell for all he knows. It makes about as much sense as everything else in his life, which he doesn’t need to worry about for much longer. He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to be doing right about now but he’s too goddamn tired for any of it anymore and he wants to close his eyes until he sees you once again.

You look more disheveled than he remembers and now you’re furiously swatting at all of the hands on him as you shout at all of them. He feels your hands on his chest now and you’re pressing down repeatedly, before he can even speculate what you’re doing he feels your lips on his and it’s the warmest he thinks he’s ever felt. The kind of warmth that fills up his whole chest…

Oh right… he needs to breathe. 

It feels as though he blinks and suddenly he smells the familiar tobacco scent of the casino. He still feels like he’s on his back but he’s floating and you’re above him the harsh lights of the casino floor giving him a better look at you. I was right, he thinks. You’re going to take me away from here. Satisfied with his assumption, he closes his eyes for what feels like the final time and he can feel his lips curve into a smile as your lips meet his once more. 

Suddenly what feels like a bolt of lightning strikes through him, and his eyes are wide open again. For a few seconds, everything looks and sounds so much clearer, his muscles seem to have finally woken up, and his breathing has become far steadier. Is this what Captain Marvel Jr. felt like when he would say Shazam? It had to be because in those few moments he felt as though he could take on the world, especially when he finally gets a good look at you.

You’re hovering over him and the smile you give him would have made him weak in the knees if they weren’t already so. He reaches out, desperate to touch you but he feels darkness creep back into the edge of his vision once more. He knows he’s going to pass out right before he does, but he still tries only barely grazing your neck before the weight of his arm becomes too much to bear. But his hand catches on something before it eventually gives way and it finally falls. 

He feels something in his hand but he’s far too tired to speculate, only using the last of both his conscious thoughts and strength to grip on tight to it. But he loses the strength to even keep his eyes open and he blacks out.

He can’t open his eyes, but he’s awake. Though that comes and goes and even then there isn’t much to say about it. He hears a mix of familiar and unfamiliar voices, the bed and sheets he’s laying in aren’t as comfy as he’s used to, and all he can smell is an oddly sterile smell. But something he can definitely feel is your parting gift in his grasp. Everytime he feels conscious he would focus on that and spend his energy trying to figure out what it was in his hand. 

Ironically enough what does bring him back to the waking world is when he feels a small hand trying to remove it from him. His eyes snap open to try to find the culprit only to be met with his own blue eyes staring back at him.

“DADDY!” Lisa Marie sobs into his chest. “You’re awake!” 

The next hour or so is a flurry of activity with doctors and nurses surrounding him asking him questions and checking the various machines around him. Now that he’s awake he is able to get a good look at what you left him: A small crescent made of smooth white stone and a very broken gold chain.

You were real, he thinks, practically giddy before he’s quickly brought back to Earth as he searches the room only to find you’re not there. Even seeing Priscilla after so long since the divorce doesn’t do much to soften his disappointment at your absence. 

“‘Cilla what the hell happened that night?” he would ask after Lisa had fallen asleep tucked into his side. He had avoided the topic as long as he could stand by this point, the doctors keeping quiet about it. 

She takes a long sigh, her eyes glassy, before she gazes out the window and upon seeing the International in the distance she hardens herself for what she has to say. “You stopped breathing. From what the doctors here told me, Dr. Nick gave you way too much of something and you just stopped. There was a girl in the front row that was able to keep you goin’ until the ambulance got there.”

“Who was she? The girl who saved me.”

Priscilla shrugs at this, “Just some nurse.”

She has never been more wrong about anything, Elvis decides at that moment. “What was her name?” Elvis questions, maybe a little harsher than needed. 

Priscilla looks slightly taken aback at his intensity, “I don’t know Elvis. I got here the day after you collapsed and when I learned what she did, I wanted to thank her personally. But even the guys say she was long gone by the time they got here the same night.”

This makes him incredibly sad, that you would leave him so soon after you saved him. 

“Elvis,” Priscilla says severely. “I’m not going to put Lisa through this again. So either you shape up and go to that place in San Diego, or…” she cracks at this one. “Or you’ll never see either of us again.” It’s certainly not a light threat for her to make, Elvis realizes, but nobody wants to watch a person slowly kill themself. And as he rubs his thumb along the pendant of your necklace, he realizes why you had to go.

Jerry finally came to see him the next day, looking worse than Elvis felt. Him and his father had been given the hard job of damage control for the whole incident, as Elvis has now found himself without a manager. Apparently some of the “medicine” in Dr. Nick's bag was at best less than reputable and at worst fully illegal, and when pressed Nick pointed the finger at The Colonel. Both of them were taken into custody and were currently under investigation, but considering the world of shit the two have found themselves in, it looks like their best bet will be to pay damages and more. 

In real time Elvis heard as their house of cards fell apart, and suddenly the prospect of his life didn’t seem as daunting as it did when he accepted his death a week ago. Even if he had died, this was all inevitably meant to come out, the only difference being he wouldn’t have been here to see it. 

But he is still here, all thanks to you. His Angel.

In one fell swoop, you not only saved his life, but made his life worth living again. Even if you were of this Earth, there is no doubt in his mind that you were heaven-sent. The lord works in mysterious ways and ain’t no way this was all a coincidence. You were meant to be in that audience. He was meant to have gotten to this point. You were both destined to be. 

To him the message couldn’t be clearer: He had to leave Vegas, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you.

“Jerry this is it. I gotta get clean,” Elvis says, clutching onto the token you left for him. This has been a long time coming, he didn’t listen when he was told the obvious by Priscilla, by his boys, even by himself. “‘Cilla told me about this place in San Diego, and I think I best go.”

“Course, EP,” he says with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You take the time you need, and I’ll handle everything from the outside.”

“You’re a good man,” he says as he hesitates about what he’s going to request next. Of course Jerry is no stranger to a task like this, but this ain’t like those other times. Because you’re not just some girl he wants to fuck between shows, you’re his angel. But he himself won’t be able to do this while he’s getting clean. “While I’m in there, I need you to do somethin’ for me” Elvis said, surer in his next course of action than he has been in years. 

The next few months were hard, honestly if it weren’t for knowing that he had to get better before he could see you again, he’s not sure he would have lasted. So he followed all the rules, took what the doctors gave him, went to therapy, the whole nine yards. There were even days where he could hardly get out of bed, it was so bad.

But it was you, his angel, that gave him strength. Those days in rehab when he felt so cold to the point of shaking, he thought of your warm touch, and he could feel himself steady. When he felt his chest getting tight, he imagined your lips on his breathing life back into him, and he would breathe easier. The nights when he could do nothing but pace around his room restless and irritable, he would press your necklace to his lips and recite a prayer to you, and he would dream sweet dreams of a life with you. He made vows of loving and cherishing you once he found you, and promises of everything the two of you would do once he got clean. How the both of you would never see that hellish place again, and how happy you would be together.

Every single success he had in rehab was because of you, but as his leave date approached he still worried about how long he would be able to keep this up without you. However he trusts Jerry, that if you weren’t already back at Graceland, then at the very least he would know where to find you.

But Jerry failed. He couldn’t find you, and Elvis’ subsequent rage was one for the history books. All of them had the gall to be surprised at his reaction, having never seen him getting so worked up about a girl.

They don’t understand, he thought. You’re not just some girl. You’re my angel. 

The only thing that was able to reel him back was their hail mary of a plan to lure you out. The closest any of them could come was that you were in some way associated with the ER he ended up at, but nothing else. He hated the idea of going back to Vegas, but if it brought you back to him, so be it. You walked into hell to save him, so how could he do any less for you?

The days leading up to his last Vegas show, he spends time with Lisa Marie, knowing that he won’t be able to do so again until he’s found you. On that last night she ends up asking for a story, and he could only really think of one that was worth telling. He told her the story of the foolish king, the evil wizard, and the beautiful angel. How the angel was sent by the lord himself to save the king from the evil wizards clutches. And it was with her help was the King finally able to banish the evil wizard forever.

“And did they live happily ever after Daddy?” she asked while drawing you as he described.

He pauses at that and looks down as he fidgets with your necklace before he says, “They sure will baby girl.”

—-----------------------

You were not having a good time. 

Of course you would be the one responsible for patching up almost ten men after a bachelor party ended in a knife fight. Only in Vegas, you think as you stitch up your third man that night. You scowl slightly at the crooked sutures before you, but you try to hide that considering that the man before you is one of the more affable (read:sober) ones in the group. 

I’m out of practice, you think bitterly. Luckily the rest of your lot seem to only have surface wounds that just require bandaging, so you don’t have to see your work get progressively sloppier. Even though you had been back for awhile since your leave, you had been readjusting to the pace of the ward, and tonight was the first night Verna, your Senior Nurse, trusted you to handle more than administrative work. 

You’re not sure if you can blame your poor job entirely on being out of practice as there is still some stiffness in your now mostly healed hand, though you’re not about to go saying anything lest Verna hear anything about it. That traitor, you think, who turned what was supposed to be a two week mandatory vacation, and added a three-month paid medical leave for a broken hand, in spite of your protests. So the last thing you want or need is more time off. 

What stings the most about the injury to your hand was that it wasn’t the initial injury that did the most damage it was the fact that you kept using it that really fucked it up. And Verna was able to point that out as a metaphor for why you were in desperate need of a break. 

Though it’s not like you had a choice but to keep using it that night. And in all honesty you would do it all over again. 

Once you finish up on the lot of them and have them on their way out, all under some light painkillers and apparently the best of friends again, you figure now is as good a time as any to take your lunch. It’s a Friday night, from experience you know things are only going to get progressively crazier tonight, and eating now as opposed to later is the way to go. So you make your way to the cafeteria for the blandest food in the world, and find your work mom. 

When you first began at this ER, Verna had all but immediately adopted you as her own, and what started out as an overbearing and slightly annoying mentor relationship, turned into a more endearing friendship than you could have imagined. Though that didn’t mean she still didn’t have those overbearing tendencies of hers, as evidenced by her previous crusade to get you to finally use your accrued vacation days. And the way she’s practically buzzing in her seat tells you that you haven’t seen the last of it. 

“What are you planning?” you question as you sit down with your food. 

“What do you mean?” she says feigning innocence. 

“You have that same look in your eye that you get when you’re scheming something that will inevitably teach me a lesson about my life and/or job,” you say, self-aware as to how these things usually go. 

“Bones, you’re being paranoid,” she all but sings, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the use of your nickname. Nurse Bones the rest of the staff call you, after the Star Trek character, and you can’t say it doesn’t fit. Abrasive and brusque is how you’re usually described by patients, and admittedly you could stand to work on your bedside manner. But to be fair it tends to be the very thing that’ll keep most patients alive. Due to your stubborn attitude, you have found that you have a knack for getting answers out of even the most belligerent patients, which has done wonders in saving time and reducing the likelihood of accidentally causing more damage due to a patient lying. 

You narrow your eyes at her, but she still maintains that innocent smile. 

“By the way, you have next Friday off,” she casually drops, while taking a sip of her coffee.

“Goddamn it, Verna.”

She puts her hands up in defense with an easy smile. “If you want you can think of it as work considering you’re going to be representing the hospital itself.”

You sigh in defeat knowing you can’t say no to her. “What is this all about?”

“Oh just about a certain rockstar who's doing his final performance in the city and he wants the entire medical staff that saved his life present,” she says, all the while, still able to maintain the coy act. 

It admittedly takes you longer than it should to put the pieces together because you honestly haven't thought about that night in a while. When your sisters had come to you with the extra ticket to the concert you had been excited for it, even going so far as to plan for it to be the kick off to the vacation Verna had been bullying you into taking. 

“You’re one of my best nurses in the ward,” she had argued. “The last thing I need is for you to get burnt out from working too hard.”

You didn’t expect much from the vacation itself, you just wanted to sleep, see a couple movies, maybe finally get around to saying yes to that drink with that cute x-ray tech. 

Only as usual the lord himself laughed at your plans. The girl you asked to sub your scheduled shift came down with a bad stomach flu, and was unable to make it, forcing you to work a double. And even when you were officially over with your shift, you were reluctant to leave due to how full the waiting room looked. If it weren’t for Verna all but shoving you into the cab meant for the International, putting a twenty in your hand, and ordering you to have fun, you probably would have skipped the concert entirely.

You were still dressed for work, so you were forced to try your luck with one of the shops at the casino, and the best you could find was a white sundress. You usually try to avoid white, because something about it being the color of your uniform just made you antsy as though you were still on duty. But the alternative was going to a show in your dowdy nursing gown, so you ended up buying it anyway. 

When you were able to meet up with your sisters, they were both in contrast dressed to the nines, making you feel even more underdressed. In spite of the less than ideal start to the night, you were determined to enjoy yourself. After all this concert was supposed to be the official marker to the start of your vacation, and it was also fulfilling one of your childhood dreams of seeing him live. And while your “love” for him had cooled since you were 12, that didn’t mean you were any less excited when one of your sisters had won front row seats to his show. 

When he walked out onto that stage all your troubles were seemingly forgotten and you could focus on this captivating man. He was nothing short of amazing to see live, and you truly believe that your younger self simply didn’t think big enough when picturing what it would be like to see him up close and personal, especially with how good the seats you got were. He took all of your expectations of it and blew them all away.

Then he started getting a little wobbly.

Then he started getting very wobbly.

Then Elvis fucking Presley had the audacity to nearly slip into a coma right in front of you. 

“Ok, but… I wasn’t officially on the emergency team, so I don’t technically count,” you say in an attempt to worm your way out of the night off, all the while stabbing at your potato salad in your frustration. 

“Ok, but technically,” she teases. “You belong there more than anybody considering you did pretty much all the work of stabilizing him.”

“I was just doing what anybody would have done,” you downplay.

“Y/N, you were literally surrounded by hundreds of people that night, and nobody acted like you did. Hell not even that doctor that was there did what you did.”

You huff at that, because thinking about that fucking doctor will always get you heated. You’ve encountered your fair share of inadequate doctors before, but Elvis’ personal physician crossed over into cartoonishly incompetent. What kind of doctor who is not only prescribing morphine, let alone over-prescribing it, doesn’t carry any goddamn naloxone on him. And just as the cherry on this very fucked up sundae he tried to use an amphetamine in an effort to cancel out the opioid effects. That is the kind of logic that has brought many users to the ER or worse the morgue, and you at least expected better from a trained medical professional. 

But nothing pissed you off more than the penguin looking man, who you would later learn is/was Elvis’ manager, asking if he would still be able to do the midnight performance. You remember just giving him a look, all the while maintaining your rhythm on Elvis’ chest, and you were able to make that man take a step back in fear. The way he stood there and watched as he shook like a leaf, you could tell whose fault this was.

Truly that entire night experience should serve as a testament to both your focus and your patience. Though you did have to remind yourself after every stupid question and comment that came from either of those mens mouths, that you had to focus on preventing brain damage in Elvis, and not try to induce it in those two. You were so fucking close to trying it when Penguin man had the audacity to criticize you on being too rough with your CPR technique, but lucky for him, the EMTs had finally gotten there. 

On the other hand, the luckiest break you had all night was that you were familiar with one of the paramedics, so you were allowed inside the ambulance as an extra set of hands, and because no immediate family could be found. After you were able to stabilize him with the Naloxone and the paddles, you were able to catch up with Verna at the ER, and warn her of what that stupid doctor was trying to do back there. 

Though by the time you had gotten there, the adrenaline had subsided and you finally noticed the throbbing pain in your hand. You had caught his head before it could hit the floor, which you knew was the equivalent to a bowling ball dropping on to your hand, so you’re not surprised that it did cause some damage to you. You put a brace on your hand and end up sleeping in Verna’s office until her shift ended and she could take you home. The injury turned out to be more severe than you initially thought, and you were put on Medical leave against your will for months. 

“How ‘bout this Bones,” she says. “As repayment for losing your necklace, you’ll be my date to the concert.” 

You know better than most that Verna is not one to be messed with, and the fact that she’s resorted to guilt tripping this early, means she desperately wants you to go. The necklace in question is the one she gave you after your first successful year in the department, something she gives all the nurses that choose to stay put in the hell that is Vegas’ premier Emergency Ward. Each one was unique to the recipient and yours, in reference to your nickname, was a small ivory stone shaped like horns held by a delicate gold chain. So delicate in fact you somehow lost it somewhere between here and the International with no clear picture as to when exactly it happened. 

You let out a long sigh before conceding. In response she mockingly rubs her hands together like a supervillain, and says, “Haha, my dastardly plan to get you to have a fun night has worked.”

“I had fun at the last show,” you argue.

“Y/N, I worry about you if that was your definition of fun.” she says, and you throw a pea at her. “Also I hear rumors that a certain x-ray tech also got a ticket.” she whispers conspiratorially. 

This does get a bashful smile out of you. If you can take one thing away from that forced medical leave was that you did end up having those drinks with Ricky. And a few more after that. And then some dinner. Currently you’re in that awkward “what are we” stage that neither of you are too eager to be the ones to define. But hopefully this concert will be the turning point for that. 

“By the way, we were asked to wear all white,” Verna casually drops, as she walks away from the table.

“Goddamn it, Verna,” you curse with a mouthful of jello.

The week passes faster than you would have liked, and suddenly it’s friday night. You didn’t really have the time nor the motivation to buy yet another white dress that would sit in your closet, so you end up once again in front of the International in the same sundress, though this time with notably better company.

Though that feeling of being underdressed is somehow worse considering who could actually afford to go to his final concert this time around. His near death experience and the accusations that his previous doctor and manager were facing had caused his fans to rally around him after this, and factoring in that this is going to be his last performance stateside, the tickets to this show were perhaps some of the most expensive in the history of Vegas. There were rumors that even the nosebleeds would cost you somewhere in the $70 range, so you could only imagine what your front row seats would have cost. But the fact that these tickets apparently sold out within minutes was a testament to how beloved he still is.

It’s not exactly a secret amongst the staff that you had been the mysterious good samaritan at the concert, but by the time you had gotten back from leave, Elvis being in your ward had become old news. You weren’t exactly eager to spill, and no one was curious enough to ask. Though you did get a few questions this week from some of the more vulgar nurses asking if you had tried to slip a little tongue when giving him mouth to mouth. You laughed it off and half-jokingly replied, how if anything he did. You’re seated between Verna and Ricky, who had the honor of making sure you hadn’t accidentally cracked a rib when performing CPR on the King, farther away from the stage than you were last time, though you weren’t too cut up about it. You’re one for one for people nearly dying when you’re in the front row, and you figure if there’s a repeat performance tonight someone else can take over this time. 

As you’re talking to Ricky as to what songs he’s hoping to hear, you don’t so much as hear but feel the familiar horns start to blare, building anticipation amongst the crowd, and evidently yourself as you’re teased over the little dance you’re doing in your seat. And as the music starts to build, you have to remind yourself that you’re still technically at a work event, so you can’t get too wild. Though with the atmosphere you find yourself in, you can’t guarantee your best behavior if you can get Ricky alone. 

Then he finally steps out and it’s just as magnificent as you remember. He looks alot better this time around, far more sure footed in his steps and the white jumpsuit with its gold accents stood as a nice contrast to his tanned skin, and you and the rest of the crowd show your love when you see the cape in all it’s angelic winged glory. Even the light sheen of sweat already on his face is doing wonders of making him look as though he’s glowing, as opposed to sickly like his last show.

Considering how well you thought his last concert was when he was high off his ass on morphine and on death’s door, it’s no surprise how incredible this one is, when he’s far more present and alert this time around. Though more being the operative word, as he does seem to be somewhat distracted this time around, and he does seem to hover around the two tables the hospital staff are at. 

You can hardly fault him for feeling a little uneasy about being back on stage again after he nearly died on one. Oddly enough you can even see the logic of having an entire medical team ready at a moment's notice for his return if nothing but for the comfort of that extra level of security. 

But you’re not here to analyze why a famous man does what he does, you’re here to have a good time, so that’s what you do; You sing, you dance, you laugh at Elvis’ jokes, you flirt with Ricky, you take advantage of your tables covered tab, the whole nine yards. All too soon though it feels like the concert wraps up quicker this time, though you figure he’s simply eager to get his world tour started as soon as possible. 

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says.“Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” This seems familiar, you think flippantly. “Before I go, I wanna give a special thanks to a few people up front here. The emergency staff of UMC Hospital, Ladies and Gentleman.” 

There is a resounding round of applause for your group as the spotlight hits the tables, and you’re just drunk enough to not retreat from the praise and recognition and simply give a cursory wave to the crowd. “But there’s one special lil’ lady here that deserves recognition. Without her folks, I can promise I wouldn’t be here tonight.”

You look around expecting to see Priscilla or maybe even his daughter somewhere around here, but you’re quickly wrenched from your thoughts as you feel the table beneath your elbows jostle a little. You look back toward the stage and find that Elvis no longer occupies it. Instead he is walking on top of your table and giving no regard to the glasses or items atop it, your co-workers acting quickly to save what they can. Before you can even put together who exactly he’s walking toward, you find the king of rock and roll crouching down before you. 

“What’s your name angel?” he asks you with the biggest grin on his face, before putting the mic in front of you. The room itself is dead silent, everybody apparently eager to hear your answer, and Elvis, even more so, with the way he’s looking at you. You even move slightly to the left in some vain hope that he’s talking to someone behind you only for the mic to follow you. Whatever drunkenly warm feelings about attention you had quickly vanished, and the only thing stopping you from crawling under the table is that you’re not sure he wouldn’t follow.

You’re floundering and also painfully aware of the seconds that are ticking away, making your pause all the more uncomfortable, and you’re barely able to squeak out your name. 

Oh my god, do I really sound like that? You think mortified after hearing your answer repeated through the amplifiers.

“Beautiful,” he says, his eyes shining and he looks at you as though you hang the stars themselves. “Folks, y’all don’t know it, but Y/N here is my very own Guardian Angel.” His statement generating “awws” from the crowd. “Last time I saw her, she left something with me and I think it’s high time I give it back.”

And with a flick of his wrists he produces a gold chain with a bright white pendant at the bottom of it, and you’re stunned when you recognize it, truly believing it was lost forever to you. It’s mind boggling to think it had been with him this entire time, having figured it was in a ditch or melted down by this point. You reach out for it hoping this will be the end of the interaction and you can begin to work on forgetting this ever happened, only for him to pull back.

“...but only if she goes to dinner with me first,” he says mischievously. At his proposition the audience responds with a series of wolf whistles and applause, which only amps up your anxiety of being seen, and it’s made all the worse when some women (some of whom you know) are trying to answer yes for you. 

Pressure and stress is something you’re familiar with, but the scrutiny you're currently under not only with your co-workers, but an entire room full of strangers makes you want to shrivel up and die. This feeling is only further perpetuated by the dazzling grin he’s giving you. Words fail you and you doubt anything that comes out of your mouth will be even the least bit coherent, so you instead shake your head in the affirmative before you bury your face in your hands.

“She said yes folks,” he says, his grin going from ear to ear at this point, and the crowd goes wild. This is all punctuated by the return of the music as Elvis winks at you and makes his way back to the stage. The music itself stands in stark contrast to how you’re feeling, sounding bold and triumphant, as you’re escorted backstage trying to hunch in on yourself and avoid being seen. You’re even more mortified as you recognize the lyrics he’s singing, and you purposefully try to avoid looking at him. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Fallin’ in love with you

You’re used to the break neck speed that comes with the territory of working in the ER, but even this is going far too fast for you. Not even five minutes ago you were trying to figure out if you were too dressed up for a burger with Ricky, now you’re standing alone in a penthouse suite waiting for the most famous man in the world for a … a date?

Oh god Ricky, you remember. How are you going to explain this to him? Things were going so well, and you planned to finally sleep with him tonight, but now this happened. And oh… fuck, that’s what people are going to assume what’s happening right now isn’t it? Given Elvis’ reputation, you can deny until you're blue in the face that nothing happened and you’re still unlikely to be believed. 

…Because nothing will happen, you’ll eat, you’ll make small talk, he’ll thank you for your part in his life being saved, and you’ll never have to think of this night again. It wasn’t so much that the necklace meant that much to you, but you weren’t exactly in a place to say no to him at that moment. So maybe if you leave right now…

Your fleeting thoughts of running are interrupted by the hand suddenly on your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Woah there angel, settle down now. It’s just me,” he says softly. 

That’s hardly comforting, you think. You open your mouth determined to leave at this point only for him to hold up a finger to you before grabbing a folded piece of paper from the piano and handing it to you. You’re hesitant to open it until he says, “my daughter begged me to give this to you if I ever saw you again.” You unfurl it to find what is clearly a child's drawing of an angel with a nurse cap, though with seemingly your general coloring as well as your necklace. The bottom reads “thAnK U 4 sAVing mY dAdY, love lisA.” You can’t help but crack a smile at this, and you feel yourself lose some of that tension you walked in with.

He seems pleased with your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains how his daughter came up with the angel moniker for you and it kind of stuck for him, considering how he didn’t know your name.

“It’s fine,” you wave away. “I get trying to explain it to her in a way she’d understand.”

“She’s been sayin’ for awhile now that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up,” he admits with a bit of a chuckle. You can’t help the way your heart melts at that. “Hope you don’t mind, I ordered food already. I-I figured you’d wouldn’t want to eat so late.” 

“I don’t mind,” you reassure, amused at his slight stutter. “The job’s made me a bit of a night owl, so I’m more on lunch time right now.”

“Guess we got time then,” he says, settling down with a bottle of wine at a table by the window. 

“I guess we do,” you say, unable to hold back a smile..

The longer you stick around though, the easier it is to talk to him, his hair is messy and he’s out of the jumpsuit so it’s easy to forget that you are talking to the one and only Elvis Presley. So engrossed in your conversation you hardly notice when the food arrives, and the two of you hardly touch it. He looks at you with that same dopey smile as you talk about your life, your job, anything really. And he reciprocates talking about the places he’s been, the places he’s going and beyond. He even bashfully admits he came back to Vegas for the last time in order to find you and thank you properly. 

“I swear Angel, I tried lookin’ for ya after I got out,” he sighs, sending a dirty look at the city right outside the window, his face highlighted by the neon lights below. “I was afraid this godforsaken city swallowed ya whole.”

“Yeah Vegas’ll do that to you,” you commiserate with him, a smile on your face gazing out the window. “It’s an absolute cesspit here.” 

“You ever think about leavin’?”

“No, not really,” you say, hardly needing a second to answer, as you take a sip of your drink. You grew up here so you hold no illusions to the glitz and glamor that the city holds. Not to mention your job primarily consists of dealing with patients who are often the byproduct of this awful city. But this is still the city where you were born, where you’ve made your life. A life you’re honestly proud of.

He looks taken aback by your response, and in that moment you have the pleasure of seeing a man who has been nothing but confident and sure of himself stumble over his words. “Re-really? There ain’t no place in this whole world y-you’d rather be.”

“Nah,” you say casually, holding two fingers up. “There are two types of people who live here, ‘This place is a pit and I’m leaving’ or ‘this place is a pit and I’m never fucking leaving.’ No real reason beyond just… liking it here,” you guess shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, I just got back from medical leave, I think I've had enough of a vacation for awhile,” you say, your drink having loosened your tongue.

“What happened?” he asks, his brow furrowed, looking genuinely concerned for you.

“Oh, umm…” you say, sucking your teeth. And that’s really the elephant in the room neither of you are addressing. The fact that you’re only here because of what you did for him. “Well I kinda broke my hand… that night… when I caught you.” You follow this with perhaps the most awkward laugh, which you quickly cutoff when you see the guilty look on his face.

As you're floundering for some sort of recovery, he gently takes your previously injured hand in his, as he places a small kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I put you through so much trouble.” he whispers against your hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” you say, trying to even out your breathing, suddenly going from pleasantly to too warm in a matter of moments. “I would have done the same for anybody else.”

“But not anybody else coulda done whatchu did.” he says. “It’s almost sounds like it was all meant to be,” 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” you say, sipping your drink. “But if this city has taught me anything in all the years I’ve lived here, it is that luck, good or bad, has its hands in almost everything.”

“You’re too good for this rotten city,” he says, softly rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, his ocean blue eyes piercing into your own. “Y/N, this city ain’t good for no one,” he says. “You gotta get you outta here.” 

“Elvis…” you say, putting down your drink. “I’m not saying this city is good, but I’m not saying it’s all bad. It just… is. And I’m fine here. I’ve built my life here and I’m really not interested in leaving.” 

“Not even for me?”

That catches you off guard and you’re at a loss for words, because who says that to someone they’ve only just met. And instead of giving an actual answer, you give a short, nervous laugh, and make a comment as to how funny he is. Though internally you’re questioning if his eyes have always been this intense. 

“You know when I was in rehab,” he trails on looking at your connected hands. “That necklace a yours, got me through some of the darkest times I been through.”

You swallow thickly at his admission. “Well rehab is one of the hardest things to do. If you want to hold on-”

“No, no Angel,” he chuckles in that deep baritone of his, as he removes the pendant from his wrist. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to give it back.” He stands up from the sofa, and holds out his hand to you. “But first, I at least want to see you wearin’ it.” 

You’re not really thinking anymore, or maybe your thoughts are being drowned out by your pounding heart beat, as you stand up and turn away from him, allowing him to put it on you. Whether it’s the heat radiating off of him from his close proximity to you or the way his hands feel brushing lightly against your neck, your decision is made even before he plants a kiss behind your ear. 

Your relationship prospects with Ricky are shot, most of the people you work with saw you leave with him, and they are all gonna assume what they want about what the two of you did. So why not do what you’re going to be accused of? Really there are other reasons not to, but they all die as soon as your lips meet his. 

It only occurs to you now that this is not the first time this has happened, but you could hardly compare either experience. The mouth that ravages your own is worlds different from the cold lips you breathed life back into, and you find your hand even wandering into his open shirt as you relish in the now strong and steady heartbeat beneath your palm. He stops at that, noticing what you’re doing, and you see his eyes go glassy for a moment before he goes right back to kissing you, though this time around it’s slower, more… tender, as he leads you back to his bed.

He probably has reasons of his own for this, though you struggle to understand them. Initially you think, rather crudely, that since he’s leaving in the morning, never to return, you suppose you’ll be his final ‘what happens in Vegas.’ But everything he does once you’re in his bed doesn’t quite match up with this assessment.

The way he touches you, it’s not sex, it’s not fucking, it’s not even love making, if you had to call it anything, more akin to worship. Leaving not a single inch of your body untouched as he undresses you, he takes his time to kiss every spot and blemish on you, even paying special attention to the hand he had inadvertently broken, as though in penance. He whispers something into your skin with each kiss, and you’re not able to make out what, but he has an almost reverent tone, as though he were praying. Though any curiosity you had for his words is quickly lost when you feel him bury his face in your cunt. 

He’s still fully dressed, you notice, the silky caress of his shirt on the back of your thighs, as you feel his wicked tongue spear inside you. The idea of being so exposed is usually horrifying to you, but now, here with him, you don’t even think about that, truly lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, and you’re sure to be very vocal in your appreciation. He eventually removes his mouth, and you let out an embarrassing little whimper at the loss until you feel the cool metal of his rings brushing your burning core. You can only imagine what kind of image you make right now writhing and unraveling on this man's fingers, wearing nothing but your necklace. From the pleased rumble that emanates from his chest he approves wholeheartedly as he sits on his knees to get a better look at you. He even goes so far as to readjust your necklace so it rests prettily between your breasts, looking for that perfect image of you. 

Much of the night proceeds like that, his own pleasure apparently put to the side, as he adjusts you into whatever position he cares to see; sideways, on all fours, above his face, on your knees with your hands holding the headboard, standing up with your back against the window, etc. For his part, he simply watches you fall apart over and over again on his tongue, his fingers, or whatever body part of his you wrap your legs around. 

You begin to suspect that this is some fucked up form of repayment for what you did, and several times through out you quite literally paw at his belt in an attempt to get him to join in. Each time he gently takes a hold of your hands, reassuring you each time he’s focused on you alone.

What finally gets him to crack is when you beg tears streaming down your face, “please I need it,” your voice whiny and your eyes frantic to behold all of him. You bring your mouth to his as you whisper, “I need you.” He’s quick to strip down after your plea, and seeing him fully leaves your mouth as dry as the mojave. For both personal and professional reasons, you’re no stranger to the male anatomy, but seeing his is… baffling, simply put. 

You feel like a teenager fantasizing in your room about your favorite celebrity again, simply due to how perfect this all feels. Too perfect in fact. You’ve lived long enough to know that things that are too good to be true, usually are, especially in this town. But these lessons are far from your mind as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace to push himself into you, reaching depths you’ve never even imagined ever reaching. You’re left a panting mess beneath him savoring the delicious stretch he’s causing you, and you’re only quieted as he takes your lips once again. 

Once you’ve had time to adjust to him being buried to the hilt within you, you beg him to move as you feel that knot in the pit of your belly begin to form once again. He seems charmed by how needy you’ve become, going at a near snail pace within you, telling you to say how you were his. So desperate were you, that you agreed without even thinking about it. 

He rewards you with a sweet kiss, as he starts to pick up the pace. You throw your head from side to side as aching whimpers escape your lips, eyes squeezed shut because dear lord, does he know how to move his hips. He takes a hold of your chin, “look at me Angel. Look only at me.” he orders, his lips barely brushing your ear. You're in no position to argue, and especially as he pins your wrists above your head.

He’s so beautiful, you think to yourself as you open your eyes to see him; the light shimmer of sweat on his brow, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, truly this man is too good to be true. But as he picks up the pace to be far more brutal and punishing, you become lost to all the sensations he’s causing you. Despite the tears streaming down your face you can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself, reveling in his incoherent whispers in your ear and begging for him to fill you up over and over again.

By the time you both finished, the two of you have been at it for what feels like hours at this point, and it is only now as the early morning rays of the sun hit the side of his face do you realize how late (or early?) it is. And as he takes in the image of you below him in the light of day for the first time, your angelic image is only further cemented in his mind, he gives you a tender kiss as he has the curtains closed and he’s absolutely sure of what he has to do next. 

You wake up to the sound of voices and rummaging in the other room, and the taste of regret on your tongue. Regret tastes a lot like dehydration, you think, helping yourself to both the full glass of water and the tylenol on the nightstand. The curtains and your pounding head make it impossible to tell what time it is or how long you slept. You know you’re in no condition to work, but contemplate going anyway, as you can only imagine what kind of shit you’re going to get from doing so. But with the state of your back right now, you don’t really have a choice. 

You’re using the low light peeking beneath the door to gather what you can of your outfit, though as you blindly scour the room, you would settle for your dress and purse at this point. Your head is fuzzy at best so you hardly notice that the white dress you put on is completely different from the one you arrived in, nor did you pay any mind to the salty aftertaste on the back of your tongue that the pills left. 

There’s no getting around that you’re about to embark on the most humiliating walk of shame in history, but you were at least grateful that he hadn’t been there when you woke up. You’re glad to have avoided that awkward encounter at the very least. But this small mercy was quickly snatched from you as you open the door only to walk right into the back of the man you were hoping to avoid. 

Wait… how did I miss that? You think blearily. You don’t have the luxury of an answer as he quickly turns around and you watch as his face lights up upon seeing you. 

“Sorry for waking you Angel,” he says, as he wraps an arm around your waist to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Just had to pack up a few things before we go.” While you aren’t someone prone to having one night stands, you also can’t think of anything to say to this man whom you’re never going to see again. At least he won’t see you, while you’ll probably have to live the rest of your life seeing him as a celebrity. 

“It’s fine” you say as you look around the room behind him for your purse. A hopeless endeavor as there are far too many men in the room, who all quickly avert their eyes from you. Though you do see it’s well past sunset, and that just adds to your embarrassment. 

“How ya feelin’ Angel?” you hear from him as he puts a hand on your forehead. The cool metal of his rings feel heavenly, but you are also a woman on a mission. The mission being get the hell out of here. 

“I’m okay,” you answer, pulling away. “I-I hope you don’t mind I used the aspirin on the nightstand.”  

You see his smile lift ever so slightly at that, “That’s why it was there Darlin’. Why don’t I take you home now?”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” you wave away as he’s walking you to the door. 

“You don’t gotta worry Angel,” he reassures you, his arm already slung around your shoulder. “I don’t mind one bit. Hell it’s probably on my way.” 

“...ok.” You answer, unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to see him more. But being seen by others as you are right now doesn’t sound any more appealing.  

As you're making your way down the hallway with him, you remember your purse that is back in the room. And as you swivel around, you feel the night hitting you all at once, and you’re forced to lean on Elvis to keep your balance. He catches you and with an arm around your waist he helps you to the elevator. 

“Wait,” you say weakly. “My purse.”

“Don’t worry, Angel,” he says, kissing your hand. “It’s downstairs already.”

That’s not where I left it, you think, when you do in fact find it already in the backseat of the town car. You tell the driver where your apartment is before pressing your head to the cool glass of the window, your eyes closed. Even with the tinted windows, the neon lights of the strip are doing a number on your eyes (later you would wish that you had chanced it and gotten one last look at home). You don’t understand how you’re this tired considering how much you’ve already slept and you simply lean in further into him, waiting for that aspirin to kick in. 

You’re not sure as to how much time passes, but eventually he does help you out of the car and up some stairs. You’ll kick yourself later for not realizing sooner where you were until you felt Elvis start to buckle in your seatbelt. You open your eyes, but even with your blurry vision you recognize that this is definitely not your apartment. 

You struggle at your harness, but your fingers aren’t cooperating whatsoever and you’re left helplessly pawing at it. You see others enter but your pleads that you have to leave fall on deaf ears as they all conspicuously avoid looking at you. 

You don’t understand why you’re like this, because other than the drinking from the night before you hadn’t had anything other than… the aspirin. 

How could you be so stupid? How could you have walked into this trap? Why did you think you could trust him? You start sobbing as you hear the cabin door close, because you have no answer for any of these.

“Please I have to go home,” you weep.

“I am takin’ you home Angel.” and you have no choice but to lean on him as he brings you closer.

Finally once you’re in the air he unbuckles and stands the both of you up. Men you vaguely recognize from the hotel, all again avert their eyes as Elvis proceeds to walk you down the aisle and you beg them to help you. You’re still feeling the effects of whatever he gave you so you don’t really put up much of a fight until he opens the door and you see a bed on the other side.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt you Angel,” he says soothingly. You don’t believe him. “I know you’re mad right now, but I know one day you’ll forgive me. Because this is for your own good.”

“Why?” you sob into his shoulder as he lays you both down. “Why me?”

“Because the lord himself brought us together, Angel.” he says and you see that manic look you’d only gotten glimpses of in your short time together on full display. “And what God has brought together, let no man separate.”

“What?”

“Angel I know you may not believe in all of it,” he says, rubbing your cheek. “But I don’t believe it was just a coincidence that you were there that night. I know someone up above sent you to look out for me. And I ain’t gon’ let you slip away again.”

This man… this man had no issue ripping you away from your life all under some delusion that you needed saving, because that’s what he needed. You’re under the control of a man that cast you as his savior… and god forbid should you ever turn out to be otherwise. This is your life now, because no good deed goes unpunished. 

“You and me, Angel.” he says merrily into your hair, holding your hand that rests above his heart, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “Today we’re flyin’ away for good.”

Taglist

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz  @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2  @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen   @marriedtoeddie ​@cuteejeno  

[mailjeevasfan]

hello! I love your writing. Could you write a prompt where the reader is working on the Kira case with L, and L shows that he truly does care about the reader and wants her to be safe. Maybe the reader and L have a bit of an argument before he admits this / shows it.

thanku sm <3 this was fun to write btw exams taking it OUT of me at the moment. requests are 100% still open but i may be more inactive for the next three ish weeks

-l lawliet x gn!reader

open ❦

༺♡༻

it was raining today, which wasn’t normal. weather in this region was typically mild, and you felt a tension in the air when you stepped outside that morning, a kind of static charge. perhaps a storm was coming?

you were planning to move into the task force building but that plan hadn’t been secured yet, so you were currently residing in an apartment not too far from work. you could walk there in a short amount of time if you wanted to, it was only any trouble on a rainy day like this. you luckily remembered an umbrella.

you arrived at work and studied the reflections of the dull sky on the skyscraper. you then spent the next few minutes bypassing the tedious security system watari had created. you understood that the confidentiality of the investigation was important, but this was always a pain.

walking into the building, you noticed that you were the last to arrive. the somber atmosphere of the outside world had somehow carried into the main office, the cheery air around matsuda being an exception. you greeted everyone and went over to l. his energy had been particularly charged after the recent events. the death note had been discovered and higuchi had been caught. the chaos had done no good for anyone, and you wanted so badly to make sure that he was okay. but no matter what, he didn’t say a word to you.

when the day was over, you hung back after everybody had left to go to their respective rooms, or left to go home. l still sat at his usual station, studying some sort of statistics on his computer. a lot of the time you didn’t even think the things he worked on were relevant at all, it all seemed very convoluted to you. but he always got his work done so you never bothered to inquire.

you felt tired from the way he’d been acting because you were worried. you were upset that he was distancing himself from everybody this way, but you were still becoming increasingly concerned. something had changed about him, he wasn’t as motivated as usual. you really wanted to approach him about the issue but didn’t know how. but today, you decided to follow through in trying to talk to him, because the issue wasn’t fixing itself.

‘ryuzaki?’

he briefly glances at you coming to sit by him before looking back at the monitor. you study his expression in the time he takes to respond, and his eyes are dark. even the brightness of the screen doesn’t put any life into his expression.

‘…yes?’

you roll your eyes at how nonchalant he’s acting, but continue nonetheless. you decide to be as bold as you can allow yourself to be.

‘i want to speak with you. something’s changed. you’re so quiet, especially towards me.’

‘i’m-‘

he carefully evaluates his response before continuing to speak.

‘…i don’t know what you’re talking about.’

you can’t tell if he’s joking or not but decide to ignore whatever he’s trying to pull.

‘i want you to be honest with me. i’ve been working with you and the others for long enough to know when there’s something wrong. i promise you i’ll understand if there’s a problem, there’s a lot going on right now i know. so please, just-‘

‘you must forget about it. continue with your work as usual so that i can continue with mine.’

his blunt interruption catches you completely off guard, his mood changed so quickly. but something about the wording of his outburst…

are you keeping him from working somehow?

‘what are you…is it me? have i done something?’

he finally looks at you, and you swear you can see concern in his eyes.

‘no… no, of course not. i’m sorry. i just mean, i-‘

he stammers again. you realise that he probably doesn’t do this often. you put a hand on his shoulder, worrying that you’ll regret it. he becomes rigid for a moment before relaxing again.

‘i’m worried for you, y/n. these feelings are foreign to me. there are so many problems with you being here, but you haven’t caused any of them. it’s… hard for me to explain it.’

but you understand. of course you understand. you’ve already said, you’ve known him for long enough now. and what he’s trying to describe… you almost feel wrong for finding it endearing.

‘i understand ryuzaki, and i don’t ever want me being here to create conflict or problems. i want you to know that i’m here because i want to be. i want to catch kira, no matter what it takes. i think the same way you do. i want to be like you one day.’

you’re hesitant when saying the last line, but you promised yourself you’d be bold and transparent.

‘you’re fine as you are.’

he speaks with a small smile on his face, his eyes finally showing affection. it’s something you haven’t seen in a long time. you pause, hoping he’ll continue.

‘i’m sorry. you don’t deserve to have to deal with what happens here. i’m so frightened. if anything happened to you…’

his face still lacks some sincerity, but you see everything in his eyes.

‘but i want you to stay. and i will do everything in my power to protect you.’

you turn his chair around and smile at him, satisfied. much to your surprise, he actually smiles back. his expression is reverted. he leans up and softly kisses you on the lips.

when you leave a little later, you look up at the sky the same way you did this morning. the clouds have parted, and it almost looks as if the heavens are beaming light onto the earth.

༺♡༻

[kindred-sims]

“Bye, Mr. Comisky, I’ll let my mother know you said hello!”

Henry waved goodbye to the storekeeper as he began to depart. He’d already been on his way into town to return a book he’d borrowed from Mr. Clayden, and Jo had taken the opportunity to send a fresh basket of eggs with him, asking that he go sell it at the general store for her.

Admittedly, he’d found himself distracted by the sight of the typewriter in the window as he neared the door. He’d noticed it several times during past trips to town, and had lately begun to fantasize about what it might be like to have one. He was sure that so many writers were using them these days, and he would dearly love to have one, especially if it meant not running the risk of breaking any more pencils or dealing with a cramping hand.

Sadly, he doubted that the typewriter would ever be his. It cost a pretty penny, and he doubted his folks could spare enough money to buy it for him. Much as he wanted it, he was content to settle with a usual new pair of socks or sweater, as he had every Christmas.

Caught up in his own thoughts, he wasn’t paying attention when the door opened, and someone came crashing into him, the two of them toppling to the ground.

“Oh! I’m so sorry--” Henry began, pushing himself up from the ground. “I wasn’t watching where I was--”

He reached to offer his hand to the girl he’d collided with, but stopped short at the sight before him. Blonde hair...familiar blue eyes, that shimmered as they looked up at him.

“...Millicent? Is that really you?”

The girl scrunched her face in confusion at his question, grabbing his offered hand to stand back up.

“I apologize, sir, I’m not sure that we’ve...wait, Henry?” A wide smile broke out onto her face, as well as recognition. “Henry Wakefield? I don’t believe it, look at you! My goodness, you must’ve grown a few inches since I saw you last, how have you been?”

Her voice was still just as light and sweet as Henry remembered it to be, causing his heart to soar. He couldn’t believe that it’d taken him a moment to recognize her, but then, she’d changed so much in the last couple of years since he’d seen her. She was practically a proper young woman now, and gosh, was she ever beautiful…it made him feel almost bashful to be in her presence.

“I...um, I’ve been good. Yes, I’ve been doing good,” Henry stammered, clearing his throat. “How about you? I thought you were still off at boarding school.”

“Oh, I’m just home for the holiday break,” Millicent clarified. “Just until Spring, then I’ll be going back...though if I were to be honest, I almost wish I’d stayed where I was. Father’s still stuck in Windenburg on business, and Mother’s almost wanting to cancel our Christmas celebrations over it, it truly is a sad affair...”

The light in her eyes dimmed upon saying so, and Henry felt immediately compelled to invite her over to his family’s home for Christmas dinner, not wanting to risk this being the last time he saw her before she left again. She looked delighted at his offer and gladly accepted, and even let him walk her home after she’d finished running her errand, begging him to catch her up on all that she had missed in the time that she’d been gone.

[strbymacaroon]

do you think you could write little hc's about Confession Jean and Nun!reader sneaking around the church to do little cute things? like really fluffy new relationship things? your writing is breath taking girl 🥺💞

Awh!! Thank you so much nonny!!❤️

I’ve honest never done headcannons before, but I’ll give it a go for you bae!!

Here’s the original post these headcannons are based off of! Here!!

You don’t have to read to understand!!

Priest! Jean x Nun! Reader!

Warnings: lots of kissing! Oral sex, dirty talk, sneaking around, secret relationships, getting caught, etc.

When you woke up uh the morning, you didn’t recognize the room you were in. The sheets impossibly soft, the place warm with joy. And before the thoughts of last night could even flood your head, Jean was already all over you. Pulling you impossibly close to his body while smiling non-stop.

Telling you sweet nothings about how happy he is, and how long he’s been dreaming about waking up to your face. Also, “You’re my little secret.”

You remember smiling like a loser, repeating back to him like a praying chant, “I’m your secret.” Right before he would attack you with kisses.

It felt surreal. Being in the room of the man you’ve denied for so long, with him wanting you too.

Right before you would have run into his closet, because Father Eren needed to talk to Jean about something he deemed— “Couldn’t wait another hour.”

You tried to your best not the burst out laughing when Jean constantly ushered Eren that this was a matter they could discuss another time.

Little did you know, this was a start of a very clingy and exciting relationship.

You always were given cleaning duty, and what you may be cleaning? The garden. A place you honestly couldn’t go a minute without thinking of Jean on his knees and…

Go away dark thoughts!

You loved the garden, truly did, but Jesus it was hard to focus on your duties when Father Jean always decided to have a middle of the day stroll. Especially when he looked so nice in the sun.

“What you doin’ there?”

You know, he knows, what you’re doing. But you answer anyway. “Gardening.” You answer is swift, cutting a weed from the ground as if it were the physical period to your sentence.

Suddenly, he’s standing right behind you, blocking the sun from your body. “Looks good so far.” You can feel his hand on your head, “You look good.”

It wasn’t long before your dirt stained hands were in his hair, touching his chest as he kissed you. His hands pulling your body close to his.

It’s exhilarating.

Jean smiles against your lips, “Hey, you come here often?” He pulls you back, sitting on the fountains ledge and letting you sit on his lap.

You shake your head, “Just on Sundays.” You whisper.

Jean laughs whole heartily, before finally kissing you again. Moving your hips again his, practically whining into your lips.

That’s until you hear the crunching of footsteps. You practically leap off him, unfortunately forgetting you’re right next to a fountain.

Practically falling into the tub of clear water.

Jean eyes widen, his head snapping back to you and the entrance of the center garden. Confused on if he should help you, or run so the two of you don’t get caught.

Unfortunately, his heart was too big to leave you be. So, he quickly tried helping you up. Only to be pulled into the water himself. Practically trapping you in his arms while his body hovered over you.

“What the hell is going on?”

Wait, you know that voice?..

“Sasha?!” You shout, peeking your head up. Shit, you completely forgot she also helped you with gardening.

“Oh, you’re so dead.”

And that’s how Sasha knew you and Jean were secretly—doing each other.

You glancing at the kids, than back at Jean leaning on the frame of your door. His hand touching the top, while he towered over you.

“I don’t know… I don’t want to leave the kids—“

“Please?” Jean asked, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to his body. “Please, please.” His practically begging now, using a tone that makes your belly flutter.

You part your lips, before sighing. “Okay, five minutes.”

Jean is practically dragging you behind him, shoving you in a room and shutting the door behind him. Until he pausing, his eyes meeting with Eren.

Jean just waved, then threw the door shut.

Next thing you know Jean’s making out with your cunt, while telling you soft praises. His tongue working against your clit while his eyes watch your perfect expression.

“So good, you’re doing so good for me, baby.” His whispers.

“You like this shit?” He laughed into your pussy, “Such a slut.” He pulled you closer to his mouth. “Love you like this.”

“You gonna cum?” He cooes, “Do it on my face.” He sighs out, his hand rubbing over his cock straining against his pants. “Please, cum, I need it.”

His hand moves to finger you, pressing on your g-spot and groaning as you squeeze around him.

It isn’t long before the two of you are walking out of the room, his perfect hair once slicked back now messy and unruly.

And you panties?

Stuffed in his pocket.

Jean says he wants something to always remember you by. Since he can’t even spend five minutes without being around or inside of you.

The moment Jean saw you on your knees, was the moment he wanted to end everything for a life with you. Despite how much he loved his job.

Then again, he loved doing this with you. He loved you.

Scary, but so exciting!

Jean slapped his hand over your mouth, pressing you against the wall, and practically dropping his ice-cream.

Your heart is racing, and you can feel Jean’s pulse though his hand, but he’s smiling. Removing his hand and kissing you. You can’t help but relax into him, fluttering your eyes shut.

It’s Sister Mary. She's talking to Father Eren.

You can hear their footsteps getting closer, and closer, and closer, and closer.

But Jean’s in his own little world. With you as it's creator.

Jean finally pulls back, his forehead pressed against yours. He's smiling, staring into you. He doesn't say anything, he's just admiring.

You listen, hearing them walk past the kitchen, and down the hall. Even though she's gone, Jean doesn't move.

You laugh, pressing your finger against the ice-cream and lift it to his lips. Smearing some of the sticky cream over his face.

Jean laughed, taking your finger in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tip of your finger.

He smiles, practically in another world as he says, “I love you."

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Fic request: Bucky comforting reader after a long hard day

word count: a perfect short 784 words

__________

You didn’t even bother taking your scrubs off, which probably was the first sign something was super wrong. You just flopped onto the hardwood floor, face down and groaned.

“Doll, is that you?” You heard Bucky call to you, but it was just too much effort to do anything more than groan again, with a louder volume. You heard his footsteps come into the living room, and saw his socks at the periphery of your vision. There was a low chuckle and then he squatted, tipping his head so he could see your face. “Baby, was it that bad?”

“Unnnnnnnnnnnnn,” you groaned. Bucky’s low chuckle followed. 

“Can I run you a bath?”

“No.”

“Pour a glass of wine?”

“I hate wine.”

“Whiskey then?”

“No.”

“Need your feet rubbed?”

“No.” You rolled onto your back and punched the floor. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“Sweetheart, I can’t help if you don’t give me a job,” he pressed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’d seen you come home from bad days before, but nothing like this. You pushed yourself to sitting and leaned forward, brushing your lips against his.

“Just being home, and not out on a mission or something is perfect, Buck. Honest,” you admitted. “Can we have those folded-in-half pizza things for dinner?”

“Did you just call a calzone a folded in half pizza thing?” He asked, mock horror in his tone.

“With ham and pineapple?” You pressed. It was truly pushing your luck.

“I can’t believe I sleep beside such a heathen,” he complained as he tapped the order in on his phone. It was your turn to chuckle.

“Weren’t complaining about my sinful nature last night, Buck,” you retorted. “And besides, I had a bad day.”

“Did you want to talk about it?” He asked. You yawned and twisted your back, trying to get the crick out of it.

“Remember the bath you offered? Can we talk about it in the bath? You won’t notice my tears as much if we’re in the bath,” you said. Bucky smiled softly, and stood. He took your hands and pulled you to your feet.

“Anything you want, baby. Especially if it means getting you out of those scrubs,” he kissed the tip of your nose and threaded his fingers in yours to lead you to the bathroom.

“Oh, you want me out of my scrubs, do you?” You teased as you started to pull the top off. Bucky turned the water on to fill the tub, and poured a liberal amount of your favourite bubble bath in.

“Doll, I say this with all the love I have for you, but yeah, I want you out of the scrubs. And the sooner you're in the tub, the sooner I’ll know why they stink so bad,” he laughed. In feigned outrage, you balled up the top and threw it at him, laughing when he shrieked as he tried to dodge it.

__________

“I don’t know what kind of sorcery HYDRA taught you, but I approve,” you murmured, leaning back in the tub. Bucky was sitting across from you, massaging one of your feet. You felt him stiffen at your words. “Oh, Bucky, I’m sorry. I just meant you have this uncanny knack of knowing exactly how to help me settle down and get out of my head.”

“That’s not sorcery.” He shook his head. 

“No one has ever recovered a day this quickly or well for me,” you replied, allowing your eyes to close as he worked a sore spot in your arch.

“That’s just love.” Bucky said it like it was no big deal. “I want you to be happy, or at the very least, content. So I’ve tried to figure out how to help you recover from shitty days.”

Had Bucky just said he loved you? You paused for a moment, and waited to respond until your brain confirmed he had actually suggested that he loves you.

“Buck, did you just -”

“Tell you I love you? Yes.” His interruption was instant.

“But Buck -”

“Don’t but Bucky me. There’s over seventy years of my life I’ll never get back, and I’ve definitely got some regrets about not getting home from the war. I’m not going to waste time waiting for the perfect moment to tell people when I care about them ever again. I love you, and you are important in my world, and because of that, I want to help make your worst day better and your best day extraordinary. Because I love you.” He’d leaned forward as he spoke and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you breathed and leaned forward into another kiss.

[blimbosworlddd]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 2)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic is doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 3.9k

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You want someone to crave you, to need you. Not in a toxic codependent way, but rather in a way that makes you feel special. That’s why you escaped to the world of shoujo and action/fantasy films when you were a child, it was the closest you got to that feeling of truly falling for someone and being fallen for. Or at least it was the closest you got to being ignorant of how unlovable you felt. And when you grew into your late teens, you drowned your mind in fictional men.

You dream of someone who’d treat you like the queen you are deep down inside. You thought Sai could be that- hell- you thought every guy you dated could be that. But deep down you knew it was impossible, because you didn’t view them as special either. Not anymore, at least.. You are not afraid to live your life the way you want, and all the “love interests” in your past would never determine your future. You’d make sure of it.

To be honest, you’re thinking nothing of that at this very moment. How could you after talking to that hottie you met a week ago? You didn’t reach out to Lee until now due to long hours nursing at your local hospital; keeping track of a dozen medical plans, on top of a new patient assignment makes you feel like your phone burning up at 10%. Plus you love your job (despite how cruel the healthcare system can be), which makes working a bit easier.

You thank the universe for your fast work ethic; tirelessly taking care of people in the early mornings, and finally managing to have a solid break for once. As soon as you get to sit at your favorite cafe in peace, your mind wanders to that dojo you went to. Which struck your memory of getting Lee’s contact info. You usually only text people you’ve just met to test the chemistry, but something about his welcoming aura urges you to risk your pride. You call him, nibbling on your lip while waiting.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Ri-

“This is the Mighty Rock Dojo.”

 The deep bass thrumming in his tone is hushed and calm. It sets your goosebumps aflame, making you sit up so you can speak at your clearest.

“Heyyyy, it’s y/n! I treated your friend last week.” You shut your eyes, not intending for your pitch to raise that high.

A smile slowly adorns his face at how cute you sound, and that you actually bothered to follow up with him.

“I remember exactly who you are, y/n! I’m glad to hear from you.”

Your eyes flicker to the wooden table you rest your arms on, gulping at his poise. Lee pads his way to his personal office, not wanting to disturb his students’ meditation break.

“Same here. I just wanted to…”

You pause to consider if your already full schedule could take a new hobby.

“…to know the entire schedule of your dojo so I can see what times are right for me.”

The taijutsu master leans on his front desk, free hand gripping its smooth edge.

“Yes of course! I’ll text you all the information after this call. There’s a flier here waiting for your return.”

“Heh, didn't mean to leave so soon last time.” Yes, you did. “Thanks, sensei.”

“Don’t sweat it. How's your week so far?”

A part of you considers going with the standard ‘it’s been okay’, but you’re at a point in your life where you hate lying to yourself- no matter how easy it is to do so.

“It’s been strenuous… I’m now on my first proper break in weeks.” 

You like how Lee hisses through his teeth in genuine concern. You wonder what other scenarios would cause him to make that sound.

“It’s no pressure if this may not be the best time for you-”

“No it’s fine- I mean I don’t wanna wipe someone’s ass and endure shitty behavior for the rest of my career. I want to heal people the way they’ve healed me.”

Lee chuckles briefly at your determination. You like how that sounds too. Everything about him you like so far and you've only talked twice, you could feel your skin crawling.

“And you will. How about you stop by after work? We close kind of late anyways.”

Your chest blooms at his support, body starting to feel lighter for some reason. You clear your throat.

“Today?”

“Today.” He confirms.

Lee twiddles with the hem of his Gi absentmindedly, waiting patiently for your response.

“Yeah, okay… s-see you after seven?”

“See you after seven.”

-

A few hours pass after thoroughly enjoying your burrito and latte with some Netflix. You’re now on your final shift, completing your hand-off for your colleague Brandon. He’s been overseeing you since you transferred to this hospital. It’s bigger and more advanced than you’re used to, so Brandon was the first to show you the ropes. It’s 6:54 as you email your finalized report to him, hearing the shrieking metal of wheels rolling closer to the office you reside in.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Come in.”

Spinning your chair to face the door, you find Brandon entering with an old lady sitting prim and proper on her wheelchair. Her small, veiny hands fold over her tummy, loose white locks framing the moles that scatter her wrinkly face. It’s like she was made to wear that throw blanket for a shawl.

“Oh? Who’s the lovely guest, Brandon?” You chirp as you rise from your seat, cringing inside at how your voice’s raspiness may’ve given away your exhaustion.

Your supervisor brings the senior closer to you for a better acquaintance.

“This lovely guest, until further notice, is your new patient: Ms. Fink.”

You sit on your haunches to meet her at eye level. You would offer your hand for a shake, but this is your first meet and you’re not 100% familiar with her medical conditions.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Fink. I’m y/n, and I can’t wait to help you on your road to recovery.”

Ms. Fink’s beady eyes scan your welcoming figure, enjoying the sight of you kneeling for her. She nods slowly with a subtle smile, which you take as a step in the right direction.

“Her family had just dropped her off here, so you’ll be overseeing her first thing next week. Did you send me the hand-off?”

You place your hands on your knees to stand up.

“Just emailed it before you came in.”

“Good, now go get some rest. And I’ll be taking you,” he looks down at Ms. Fink, “to your room. Say goodbye to your new nurse?”

The lady unfolds her hands to give you a wave before she’s turned around and escorted out.

“See ya later!” You wave back.

…you snatch your jacket, purse, and bounce.

-

It takes a few train stops and a bus ride to get to the dojo, which isn't bad. You’re just wondering how long it’d take to get back home. Opening the door, that familiar bell jingles at your entrance. You stand behind the front desk, face lighting up at the sight before you:

A group of toddlers are in basic horse stances, their fists positioned at their hips. Lee strolls languidly around his students, hands folded behind his back as he watches them like a hawk. He takes a deep breath.

“You want to unlock the first gate?” The way he asks is eerily calm.

“Yes, sensei!!” The kids shout.

“Then use your core. STRIKE!” He roars.

“HA!” The kids adorably return the enthusiasm, all simultaneously throwing a firm punch.

“STRIKE!”

“HA!!”

Your shoulders stiffen at how fierce Lee is, even with kids. ‘He really said it’s free eats’, you laugh to yourself.

“Everyone in a circle.” His hands echo a clap and the children scatter like critters to form a ring. He scans the kids, silently noting the ones who have yet to spar. He glances at a particularly frail child, who stares down at the belt she’s squeezing.

“Orchid, come.” He orders, tone stern but not harsh enough to scare her.

Orchid flinches anyway, her face falling at the fact that she’s been chosen. Hesitantly, she trots her way to the center where Lee is. The master side eyes another kid, noticing her rocking back and forth with a tight smile on her face. As if she’s trying to suppress her eagerness.

“Amanda, come.”

The child lights up, practically sprinting to her spot in front of Orchid. Lee kneels between the two, one hand on each shoulder.

“Trust what you have learned, and your body will do the rest.” 

“Yes, Sensei Lee!”

“Yes, sensei…”

Their master gives them a warm smile, before rising to take a step back. He raises his arm beside his head.

“Bow.”

The children lower their heads to pay respects, and take a few steps back to position into their preferred fighting stances: Amanda’s stance is more open, taking an offensive approach. Orchid’s is more defensive, balled fists guarding her face without blocking her eyesight. Everyone’s watching, even your own stare is glued to the students. Lee casts down his hand.

“BEGIN!”

Amanda charges at Orchid, aiming a hit right for her chin. Orchid uses her forearms to block the punch- hissing at the force- while trying not to get backed into the boundary, for if you touch anyone in the circle you lose. Amanda throws a barrage of kicks and jabs her way, yelling and grunting with every strike to intimidate. Her opponent continues to block her advances. As terrified as Orchid looks right now, she is deflecting her attacks pretty well, for each blow that comes her way she redirects with firm open palms. You aren’t too surprised, Lee’s a genius.

Amanda is cooking her shit though, the sharp sound of her punches giving away the damage she inflicts, and the other kids start to cheer her on as she steadily dominates Orchid. You divert your attention to Lee, and he’s watching the unfolding event with a stoic face. Some distance forms between the two fighters, and Amanda uses that to her advantage by vertical jumping in the air and raising her leg in an axe kick. 

Orchid’s eyes widen in horror but successfully dodges the kick that would’ve ended the fight. While Amanda’s feet are still bound to the ground, Orchid lowers her body and twirls her leg; planting a round-house kick straight to her opponent’s jaw. Amanda’s back hits the matted floor at the force. She groans petulantly, stunned at how easily she fell for that move.

“The winner,” Sensei Lee casts a hand in Orchid’s direction, “is Orchid!”

A loud silence envelopes the room for a moment before everyone applauds Orchid’s bravery and skill, you even add in a little “woop woop” to boost morale. She was going to offer a hand to help Amanda get up, but she yelps at a dense pain coursing through her left ankle- the one she leaned on to perform that roundhouse kick. Orchid drops to the floor, holding her calf to make sure no unnecessary pressure adds to it. Lee rushes to her side.

“Orchid, what’s wrong?” Caution and worry furrow his bushy eyebrows as he descends beside her to scan for problems.

“It..it hurts,” she whimpers.

Andddd that’s your cue. You hurriedly kick off your sneakers, politely excusing yourself when walking through the wall of kids. Lee’s head snaps up at your figure and beams with a quiet sigh of relief.

“My name’s miss y/n, I’m the dojo’s new nurse. Can you tell me what hurts, sweetheart?” You coo, placing a safe hand on her small back. She physically relaxes at the gesture.

“M-My ankle. It hurts.” Your eyes never left hers, nodding your head to show that you’re listening to every word.

“Hmm, I think you might’ve sprained it, Orchid.” You raise your head to look at Lee.

 “Sensei, do you have strong bandages and some Icy Hot?”

“Uhhh- mhm!” Lee gulps, blushing at you calling him sensei. Even though that’s what he told you he preferred, he is a bit stupefied at your effortless professionalism and charm. You look back down at Orchid.

“Can I carry you to my office?” Your office, huh? “Don’t wanna worsen your sprain, now do we?”

Orchid slowly nods her head, eyes widening at how validating you are. You carefully hook one arm under her knees, and hook the other under her back,  inwardly swooning at her visibly melting in your hold. Making your way to your office, you find Lee with a roll of elastic bandages in one hand and a plastic jar of Icy Hot in the other.

“Makin’ sure I’m prepared, sensei?” You tease, and Lee chuckles at your implication.

“It’d be unacceptable if you weren’t.”

You gently place Orchid on the thin mattress, watching her feet dangle off the bed. You turn to face Lee, who's already staring at you.

“Thank you. I’m sure there are a bunch of toddlers waiting for you out there.”

“O-Oh… right!” Lee places the requested materials on a small table next to you. Lee kneels down in front of Orchid, meeting her at eye level.

“I’m gonna call your mother so you can get home safely, okay Orchid?”

“Y-Yes, sensei.”

Lee now locks his eyes on yours.

“And if you need anything else, there’s more equipment in the cabinets for you.”

Despite him looking up at you, his gaze makes you feel small- leaves you wanting to do everything he tells you to.

“Yes, sensei!”

Lee nods his head and stands up, heading to the front desk’s telephone by the dojo. He orders the kids to sit and meditate in silence while he punches in Orchid’s mom’s number. Lee sighs, wondering if this is how Might Guy felt when he was training kids here: happy that he can care for them and make them stronger, but also somber, knowing that they won’t be cute little rascals forever.

You put on disposable nitrile gloves and open the plastic jar of Icy Hot. Orchid stares at the blue concoction.

“S’that? It smells minty.” She asks meekly.

“This, my dear, is Icy Hot,” you dip your fingers in the product. “It helps with muscle and joint pain. The strong smell comes from menthol.”

Orchid winces when you lather the cream on her ankle.

“It’s cold!” She squeaks. You giggle at her cuteness.

“I know, but it’ll get warmer in a few minutes.”

You steadily wrap the bandage securely around her aching limb, telling her to warn you if it’s too tight. 

“You did really well out there, Orchid.” You prompt as a matter—of—factly while disposing of your nitrile gloves.

“…you think so?”

“Know so!” You sit beside her and smile at her pouty face. “You kept fighting, even when the odds of you winning looked slim.”

She hugs your arm, the most comfortable way of showing her gratitude, and confirms that you’ve done your job well. You caress her hair as she holds you, and tell her not to move until her mom arrives.

-

A couple more hours pass, and luckily no more students have to visit your office. You spend the rest of your time there watching Lee and other fighters train rigorously, and others slack off, as you would expect. The dojo finally concludes its classes for the day. It’s half past 10, and you are itching to get home. Well- not until you’ve concluded your day with Lee, of course. You walk up on the sensei rolling up his mats and carrying them to their respective areas.

“You were so badass today,” you quip. “As per usual.”

You kinda felt like a loser for dick riding, but you mean it and he deserves to know.

“Thanks! I could say the same for you myself, miss y/n.” You grip the back of your neck at his teasing as he approaches you with a smirk.

“Thank you. Anddddd especially that stance you taught your students! How long does it usually take to master? Does it hurt? How do they get so still?” 

You rambling on about your interest in the martial art blooms Lee’s chest open. It’s like you’re unlocking a new level of fondness that he harbors just for you.

“Would you like me to show you?”

Your voice dies in your throat.

Huh?

“I-I mean you can try,” you laugh sheepishly. “I’m a beginner’s beginner. Sooo-“

“Okay!” He chirps, taking one step closer to you. “Can I guide your movements?”

“Mhm!” you chirp, thinking nothing of it. Lee raises a brow at you, expecting a proper response.

“… I mean yes! Yes, Sensei Lee.” The master hums in satisfaction. You think of crawling into a hole.

“Turn your hands into fists.”

You ball your fingers, thumbs caging your encased knuckles.

“Good. Now place your left fist by your hip… uhuh. Extend your right arm in front of you, like a punch, and keep your fist.”

You raise your arm up, feeling like you have a good idea of how to enact this stance when he nods his head in encouragement.

“Now, spread your feet.”

You look down at your legs and create space between them.

“Wider.” He commands. You spread them a little more.

“Wider… good, remember that they must be 3 feet apart.”

You’d be lying if you say you don’t feel the burn, it's been a long time since you've physically pushed yourself like this. But you trust the process.

“Now bend your knees… lower.” His face is unreadable, the way he speaks is cold and direct- but never with disdain. Your body freezes in horror at how hot it is to you.

Lee walks around you, like a vulture circling its prey, and you don’t dare move until he says so. You can’t see what he’s doing until you jolt at the way he gently clutches your hips. His touch shocks every nerve in your body, making you tense up and soften all at once. His bandaged fingers are long and slender; you know they’re deadly weapons and yet his grip on you coaxes your muscles to mold at his will. He leans in until his chin hovers over your shoulder, catching a whiff of your coils up close; shea butter and vanilla. It’s dizzying how sweet and inviting you smell.

“Lower, miss y/n.” His deep tone rasping right beside your ear has you shivering, and the way he slowly pushes you down with his hands until you are at the ideal altitude strikes lightning in your tummy. He releases you and takes a step back, admiring his current direction.

“There. You’re now in a semi-decent horse stance!” He quips, arms folding in triumph.

You scoff at his sarcasm. Is this nigga serious? You think.

Am I even serious? Maybe he was doing it purely out of instruction as he asked. I consented. I liked it- no- I was delighted. And yet… Why do I feel… such crippling fear? This silent voice in my head is telling me to detest this. To detest him.

…To detest me…

Lee’s bubbly grin sinks as he watches your face contort into a small scowl, a thousand-yard stare giving away your brief dissociation. You don’t move from the position he taught you. His arms unfold as he pads closer to face you. 

“Y/n?” Despite his low tone, the way he says your name is light as a feather. He feels that if he speaks any louder for some reason, you’ll react like a wine glass at the mercy of a soprano’s highest frequency. Your eyes widen in focus at his gentle call. You see the space between his brows crinkling at how disturbed you looked, the sight deepens your frown.

Lee balls his fists and lowers his head; he absolutely hates doing things that come at the expense of others’ safety. He himself is painfully familiar with how easily traumatic mundane activities can become.

“I’m sorry- I should've been more attentive,” he whispers almost desperately. “I tend to get really invested in the craft, y’know?” You shot up from your stance before you knew it.

“No, no, don’t be sorry!” You croak. Lee tilts his eyes up a little to peek at the look on your face- which now mirrors his.

“I just… just wasn't used to it, that's all.” The somber sultriness of your voice soothes his worries swimming within. “You did everything right, I felt- feel- like you're someone I could trust. So thank you, sensei… for helping me perform a semi-decent horse stance.” You don’t trust him completely, but he was checking every box in your list so far.

Lee’s chest quakes with a chuckle at your wit, deciding that he’s gonna earn your trust one way or another. He rests his hands on his hips to celebrate the eroding tension. Your teeth tug at your bottom lip to celebrate that smile you love returning to his handsome face.

“I’m always here to help!” He practically sings. “Adult novice classes are $45 a month.”

You roll your eyes at his not-so-slick marketing tactic, retreating to your shoes and other belongings. Lee snorts at your sass, following after you.

“Oh! Here’s your flyer by the way.” 

You turn your heel while sliding your arms through the sleeves of your jacket, and find Lee handing you a paper handout containing the weekly schedule and any other important dojo intel.

“Ah, thanks,” you flip through the small pamphlet before shoving it in your pocket. Lee looks at his phone to check the time..

“You go home on your own, I assume?” Lee quips while raising a brow.

You hook the handle of your purse over your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you sigh tiredly. “Can't afford a car right now so public transit is my go-to.”

Lee sways his body from side to side, feigning deep thought as he shifts his weight on each foot.

“It's almost 11, and I have a car. How ‘bout I drive you home?”

…

…Welp, you have a taser in your bag if things go south.

“I would… I'd like that… Thanks.”

Lee nods gleefully, feeling like you’re giving him another shot. “Gimme twenty minutes, ‘kay?”

You give him a thumbs up, “I’ll text you my address.”

-

In around fifteen minutes, Lee locks up the dojo and walks you to his car. Your eyes light up; acutely impressed at the sleek coat of silver, tinted windows, and wide headlights.

“Didn’t take you for a BMW typa guy.”

Lee smirks as he opens the door for you to get in. After you thank him and sit comfortably in the passenger seat, he lowers his body to level with yours, one hand resting on his knee while the other holds his car door open. His bold stare is somehow intensified by the nonchalant raise of his brows.

“I'd love to know what else you don’t take me for.”

Amusement laces his lowered tone, making you ignore the small wet patch in your panties that's been growing since his… his little lesson. He doesn't wait for your response, rising back up with a deep inhale. After shutting the door, he strides to his side of the car.

Oh, fuck me.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[loveless-fairy]

Evan Buckley and why the writing choices for him in the season finale were crap

This is my take on Evan Buckley, and it's a long one.

I have to start to say that yes, I am a Buddie shipper, but also I think it’s fair to say that before that, I am an Evan Buckley truer. So my take comes from my love for the character, rather than my hopes for the ship.

With that out of the way, let’s get into it.

I have a lot to say about the season finale, but I’ll concentrate my thoughts on Evan Buckley and how this show managed to give us development and no growth at all, all at the same time.

It’s really important to remember that last night’s episode was meant to be a series finale. They made this episode with the thought of “this is the last time” on their heads.

This was a send-off, and as such, it was quite awful.

Maddie’s and Chim’s closure was fine, Athena and Bobby's was perfect because they finally get to have their honeymoon, and without telling anyone. Very on brand. Hen and Karen was a happy note, but it left me wondering, why now? I mean, it’s been a while since we saw this storyline and it kinda came out of the blue. A surprise if you will. A good one though. Karen and Hen deserve the world. The thing is that seemed rushed.

The lack of Ravi. I’m gonna just leave it at that.

Eddie. I have to be honest, this felt weird and also out of the blue. Just like people on Twitter were asking. Where did he get her number? That entire scene felt off. But that’s an analysis that I’m whiling to do another day. For now, let’s just say that it was a no for me. That’s how we were supposed to say goodbye to Edmundo Diaz? I’m sorry but no. He deserves better. We deserved better.

Now, let’s talk about Buck. It’s gonna be quite a ride, so bear with me. As I see it Evan Buckley is a very complex character and sometimes I get the feeling that even the writers and showrunner of the show don’t fully understand how deep they can dig, so it’s understandable that fans feel underwhelmed with the decisions regarding Buck. As viewers, we tend to analyze everything. As fans, we like to see different sides of our favorite characters and we pay attention to everything. We keep track and sometimes, and not just with Buck, I feel that we do a better job at knowing the characters than the writers do.

With that said. We had Buck dying at the beginning of the second part of the season. It was quite a shock for the 118 and in my opinion, it was very well done. The emotional aspect of it was painfully good, so I had my hopes up for true growth for Evan Buckley. And we were heading that way until we weren’t.

I feel that after everything he went through, having to say goodbye to Evan Buckley with him getting involved with someone he just met and without really addressing his trauma was lazy writing. Plain and simple.

One of the things that always bothered me about how the show decides to write Buck is that he never truly faced his traumas.

Let’s see. Since he joined the 118 he got a truck landing on his leg, a pulmonary embolism, found himself in the middle of a tsunami with Christopher and he even thought the little guy was dead for several hours. He had to watch his best friend get shot in front of him, and for the second time, he feared for Eddie’s life. Just like Maddie said, just another trauma to add to the pile.

He almost died in a factory fire and was struck by lighting. Not to mention he was in an overpass collapse with his entire team. I know I left a few things out, but you get the idea.

And all of this is just since he joined the 118.

Let’s talk about his life before coming to Los Angeles.

I am a firm believer that Evan Buckley doesn’t really know what love looks like and what to do with it.

True. Growing up he had Maddie, and she did as much as she could with the few emotional tools she had. She was a kid herself. We know she raised him, and she did a fantastic job, but at the end of the day, she was his sister. The sister who had to step up into the mom role, even when their own mother was living under the same roof.

Buck grew up feeling that his parents didn’t really want him. Now we know why but can you imagine how confusing and painful must have been growing up like that?

They were his parents. They were the ones who should have loved him no matter what. They were supposed to be his safety net, the one place where he could feel safe. But they weren’t.

How damaged a kid had to be for him to realize by himself that only when he gets hurt he can get his parent's attention? Let that sink in for a minute.

As Taylor Swift said: “You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love. The slowest way is never loving them enough”.

And that’s what they did. They never loved him enough.

So, no. Evan Buckley doesn’t really know what healthy and unconditional love looks like. He had Maddie but the ones who were supposed to do the job and show him and teach him about love didn’t.

Not having that growing up leaves you with scars that will haunt you for years and years. And trust me, I know what I’m talking about. On a good note, he’s surrounded by love at the 118. And we’ve seen him learn about love right in front of our eyes. But the trauma doesn’t go away. That’s not how it works.

We’ve seen him being left behind, and jokingly doubting if the members of his chosen family will come for him when needed - which they did. His self-worth was on the freaking ground, but slowly but surely has been getting better.

So, yes. After him realizing why his parents never loved him enough (Love me anyway), and finally letting Taylor go, I thought we were going to see a new side of Evan Buckley. And with the couch analogy coming to life, I really thought we were going to get a growth storyline, especially after they decided to kill him.

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against Natalia, and I understand why he felt like she ignited a spark in him. I really do. But I also thought he was going to realize it was a temporary thing, because overall having someone fetishizing your death is not really attractive.

As I said before, even after years of being surrounded by love, the trauma and the psychological scars of not being loved enough as a kid will haunt you to adulthood, especially if you don’t go to therapy to deal with it.

And they showed us just that at the beginning of the second half of the season.

As someone who wants love and loves so fully, when the same love is given back, Buck doesn’t know what to do with it.

I see it like this. When someone didn’t have physical affection growing up, as an adult is more likely to have an aversion to touch. But what happens when that person craves a hug, when that person knows it needs a hug but has no idea how to ask? And if it gets one, what happens then? It doesn’t know how to react and what to do.

After being struck by lightning we saw a parade of people worried about him and whiling to be there during his recovery and Buck was done. One would think he will take advantage of the situation and will let them shower him with affection, but it was quite the opposite. The concept of this kind of love made him uncomfortable.

And then he had people reminding him that he actually died –for 3 minutes and 17 seconds, mind you- when he clearly was trying to downplay what happened.

So yeah, Natalia really ignited something new in him, because since the lightning she was the first one who looked at him without worries and fear. Quite the contrary, she was fascinated by the fact that he died. She literally was the getaway car for these traumas, so he saw an opportunity and took it.

I wasn’t really that surprised when he said to Eddie that she really sees him, because from his point of view that may be true. But the thing is that she’s only seeing what he wanted to show, which is this version of him that’s running away from his trauma. Meanwhile, the people in his life who are a constant will see that too but also, eventually, will dig deeper and will force him to see and face what he is purposely avoiding.

At the end of the day, he was looking for validation that what happened wasn’t that bad and that it was not worth the fuss, and he found that with Natalia.

So, sure. Being with her was easy for about 2 seconds. Then she runs away, pretty much in the same way Taylor did. Because people are right, is not hard to see the parallels between how Taylor and Natalia happened. Both after major trauma.

In my head, I could see Natalia coming back so they can give it another shot, but Buck will have realized by then that he reached out in the first place for all the wrong reasons. He would have to face his mortality and grow from it. Maybe he would work on himself and put his energy into growing at the job since he was having doubts before, and rightfully so.

I’m serious when I say that I’m in charge of pushing the Evan Buckley lieutenant-era agenda.

And with the couch metaphor, what can I say? In my perfect fantasy world, Buck would have realized the couch was Eddie and then we would have had Buddie canon. But since that’s virtually impossible as long as Kristen Reidel is the showrunner of 911, I thought the season was gonna end up with Buck buying the damn couch by himself since he realized his own worth, and that he as “just Buck” is enough and him knowing himself and seeing himself for what he is, is the most important relationship he has. An open and hopeful ending. A full circle with the moment back at the beginning of the season when he realized what the couch represented in his life.

What a send-off.

And maybe, in another season that now we know is a sure thing, after the trauma and growth, he can reconnect with Natalia and really see if he wanted to be with her because of how she treated his death or because there was something real there after all.

But no, they decided to go with the safe route and have him ignore his trauma and have him dive into a romantic relationship, which according to 911 is the cure for everything.

I was mad at the beginning of the second half of season 6 because I felt they made him forgive his parents way too easily. I know they went to therapy together, but it felt like all the damage and the hurt were overlooked in favor of giving the Buckleys the redemption arc they didn’t deserve. It was the show invalidating Buck’s trauma and that didn’t sit well with me.

And also, when I saw the promo for the finale I thought they were going to do the full circle thing with Buck taking charge at the scene and proving that he can act as interim captain. The parallel between the first episode of the season and the last would have been beautiful. Him buying the couch by himself and acting in charge at the house meanwhile Bobby is getting better.

That would have been a great way to say goodbye to Evan Buckley. Showing us he is more than his relationships. He, by himself, is more than enough.

What did I say before? Lazy writing.

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that they have him delivering “his baby”, which is not really his, and having him act all professional even when we saw the moment he broke his own heart for a second there right before he passed the baby to Cameron, and they still managed to left us with the feeling that there was no growth for the character.

One step forward and 150 steps back.

Anyway, I really hope next season something change with the showrunner or in the writing room, because we’re going in circles with Buck and people are getting tired.

My takeaway from the season is that Evan Buckley died for 3 minutes and 17 seconds and didn’t learn a damn thing.

Give that man a breakdown and have him go to a therapist. He desperately needs therapy.

Finally, I hate to think they had the opportunity of a lifetime to give closure to a character as complex as Evan Buckley and they decided to reduce him to a romantic interest.

Thank god that wasn’t the last episode of 911.

There’s still room for redemption.

On another note, Eddie realizing that Pepa was wrong and that in order to be happy you don’t need a romantic relationship; that would have been a good ending too. I understand where she’s coming from, but in this day and age, being alone is not a sad and pathetic thing as she made it look.

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 10: The First Trial - Pt 1

Ao3 Masterlist

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Time had a way of doing that, Elain supposed- slugging along endlessly when you wanted something to happen, and speeding by when you dreaded what was coming.

Thankfully her increasingly demanding coursework had prevented her from focusing on the trials ahead- or, if she was honest with herself, on what had happened with Lucien. Every time she remembered their kiss she was hit with a fresh wave of embarrassment. He seemed as reluctant as she was to address what had happened, and they hadn’t so much as shaded a glance in the last two weeks. No doubt he must think she was insane, or flaky at best. But how to explain what had happened?

Oh sorry, I had a horrible vision while we were kissing, and after thinking about it for a few sleepless nights I came to the conclusion that it might be a clue about our upcoming trials? Oh, and also, I think my patronus materialized as a werewolf and I have no clue what to make of that?

She’d spent the last two weeks poring through textbooks and practicing every defensive spell she could think of, all the while refusing to believe Professor Spell-Cleaver would actually let them face off with a werewolf. Surely that wouldn’t fit within their new parameters of what was deemed safe?

Surely?

But then, how else to explain what she had seen? It was either a vision or a hallucination, and she had only ever experienced one of those before.

Elain hadn’t told anybody about her suspicions, and by the time the morning of the first trial rolled around her dim unease had grown into full fledged panic. Not to mention a gut-wrenching guilt at not warning any of the other champions. She’d had enough time to come up with a plan, but would the other champions be able to think quickly enough on their feet?

After hours of deliberation she had settled on using her patronus (also a werewolf- oh god) as a diversion technique. Hopefully the real werewolf would be so distracted that she’d be able to cast a stunning spell to incapacitate it.

Hopefully.

“You should eat something,” Nuala said gently as Elain sat at breakfast in a state of rising panic.

From her other side Cerridwen pushed a plate of buttered toast towards her, and Elain bit into one wordlessly. It tasted like ash in her mouth.

A head popped out of the center of the table, and the Fat Friar appeared, a wide grin on his face. “And how is our champion this morning!”

The ghost winced a little at whatever panic must be etched on her face. “Oh dear. A little case of the nerves, it seems!”

Before she could reply (or vomit, which seemed more likely) a flash of red caught her attention. Elain dropped her toast, her mind suddenly made up. “I’ll see you in class,” she told her friends before grabbing her bookbag and hurrying out of the Great Hall.

“Don’t worry dear!” the Fat Friar called after her. “You’ll do great, I can feel it!”

Elain scanned the crowded Entrance Hall, her heart dropping as she spotted another red-haired figure next to Lucien. Vassa was someone else she’d been avoiding these last few weeks. She had almost decided to turn straight around when Vassa spotted her walking towards them and poked Lucien hard in the ribs, nodding towards Elain.

Lucien’s smile slipped a little as he spotted her, and Elain again felt that now familiar wave of guilt. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Vassa looked back and forth between them, her eyebrows raised so high they had practically disappeared into her hairline. “Well, I’m incredibly late for something very important. I will see you both later.” And with a wink at Elain and a rather stern look in Lucien’s direction she disappeared into the crowd.

Lucien looked at Elain expectantly, his hands shoved in his pockets. Right. The last time they’d been together she’d shoved him away and practically ran out of the room. She should probably be the one to start this conversation.

“Can we, um. Can we go somewhere to talk? Somewhere…quiet?”

Lucien’s expression was carefully neutral, though it looked like he was fighting back an amused grin. “Oh! Sure, um.” He looked around the crowded Entrance Hall and motioned for her to follow him up the marble staircase.

Elain followed as he led them up the stairs and then into a mostly deserted hallway. He peered into an empty classroom and held open the door for her. As she brushed past him his spicy, masculine scent assaulted her senses, and the memory of his lips on hers flashed in her mind.

Focus, she chided herself. She could agonize over that later. For now they had more pressing problems.

As the door clicked shut behind Lucien, Elain took a deep breath, not letting herself second guess the wiseness of what she was doing.

“So-”

“I think I know what one of our trials is going to be.”

Lucien blinked, his russet eye widening. “Really? How?”

Elain chose to ignore that part of now. “I’m pretty sure they’re going to have us fight a werewolf.”

The silence that fell was deafening. Lucien went wholly still, as if she had just stupefied him. Even his golden eye stopped its usual soft whirring as it fixed on her.

“What did you just say?” he choked out.

“A werewolf,” Elain repeated, wringing her hands.

“What…” Lucien swallowed thickly, his chest suddenly heaving from his ragged breathing. “What could possibly make you say that?”

His voice was strange, so strained it was almost unrecognizable. Elain almost felt bad for making him panic like this, but it was better that he knew so he could be prepared.

“Um…” She hadn’t had time to fully think this through. How would she explain this? “I heard some of the teachers talking about the trial.”

A choked noise came out of Lucien, half a laugh and half a groan. “You…” he cleared his throat, breathing deeply. “You heard some of the teachers say something about a werewolf at the tournament?”

“Yes.”

“Which ones?”

Elain stepped back at his sudden anger. “Um…I don’t remember.”

“Which teachers, Elain?!”

“I don’t know! What does it matter? Why aren’t you worried about having to fight a werewolf?”

Lucien whirled towards the door, as if to make sure it was still shut. “Keep your voice down!” he hissed.

Right. They weren’t supposed to help each other with the trials. But really, you’d think he’d be more grateful that she was helping him.

“We are not…” He let out another choked laugh. “We are not facing off with werewolves during the tournament, Elain. I can guarantee you that.”

Elain tampered her irritation. It was easy for him to say. He hadn’t been living with the memory of that vision for weeks now. “What makes you say that? I told you, I heard…”

“I don’t care what you think you heard, Elain, there is no way in hell that werewolves are part of any of the trials…”

“Why not? You said yourself we might have to fight some sort of magical creature…”

“Creature!” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I said we might have to fight a magical creature, Elain! Werewolves are not creatures! They’re people! They’re humans who lose control of their humanity once a month without being able to do anything about it. They’re not dragons or…or trolls, some stupid beasts who can be chained up and dueled for sport!”

Lucien’s hands had curled into fists, his anger so palpable he was almost shaking. Elain stared at him in shock, until something clicked in her memory. The article about his father, all those people being sent to Azkaban, Lucien setting the newspapers on fire and arguing with Briallyn Skeeter. Of course this would be a sore subject for him- he was fiercely against his father’s policies, it made sense that he wouldn’t want werewolves treated as mindless creatures to be fought against.

“But I saw it…” she mumbled, more to herself than to Lucien.

“You saw it? You saw what?” he asked in alarm.

Shit. How was she going to explain this now?

“You saw a werewolf?” he prompted, his voice strained.

“No! I mean, yes. But…not really.”

“Elain,” he choked out. “Please. Tell me exactly what you know.”

He looked so wretched that Elain hesitated. She had never told anybody about her visions. But then again, she’d shared other secrets with Lucien before, and he’d kept his word, hadn’t he? At least, as far as she knew.

“Fine,” she said, sagging slightly. “I’ll tell you. Just…promise me you won’t tell anyone?”

“Trust me, Elain,” he said with a strange laugh. “I won’t be telling anyone about this.”

Elain walked towards the rows of desks and sat down, if only to give herself a few moments to think of another way out of this. Lucien sat down next to her and looked at her expectantly.

“I, um…this is going to sound very strange.”

Lucien’s expression indicated he doubted anything she had to say could get any weirder.

“I know you think Divination is a bunch of bullshit, and that Seers aren’t real, but…it’s not bullshit. And they are real.”

“Ok…” Lucien said slowly, his brows furrowed. He looked completely baffled by the turn the conversation had taken, and she couldn’t blame him. “What does that have to do with…”

“I see things,” Elain blurted, cutting him off. “When I sleep. Well, usually when I sleep, once when I was awake, but usually it’s when I sleep. That’s why it’s hard to tell if it’s real or if I’m just dreaming.” She forced herself to slow down at the look of alarm on Lucien’s face.

“You…see things?”

Oh God. She sounded like an absolute nutjob.

“Visions. I have visions.”

Lucien’s mouth fell open but no sound came out. Elain fiddled with the cuffs of her robes, unable to keep looking at the baffled look on his face.

“It started when I was young. I would dream about things, specific things, and then they would happen. I’d see something on the news, or I’d hear about it. Eventually I realized that I was seeing the future. I didn’t have an explanation for it for a while, of course, but then Nesta got her Hogwarts letter and it all made sense. That’s when I knew that I was a witch, too.”

She chanced a glance at Lucien. He was still staring at her, thoroughly immobile as he had been earlier, almost unnaturally so. Like an animal assessing a threat.

“Say something,” Elain urged, loosening a breath.

Lucien seemed to rouse himself, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “You’re…you’re a Seer.”

“Yes.”

“And you have visions.”

“Yes.”

He sounded like he was talking more to himself than to her. Like his brain couldn’t wrap itself around what she was telling him. Still, the fact that he hadn’t laughed at her or dismissed what she was saying made some of the tension ease from her shoulders.

“And these…visions, they usually come to you when you sleep.”

“That’s right. Except…except for one. Recently.”

Realization dawned on his face. He swallowed thickly, the movement making his throat bob. “And by any chance did this happen when I kissed you, and you panicked and said you had a migraine?”

Elain bit her lip, feeling herself flush at the mention of that kiss. “Yes.”

Lucien huffed a laugh, a relieved grin spreading across his face. “God, Elain, why didn’t you say so? I thought I upset you, I’ve been kicking myself for two weeks wondering what I did wrong.”

“So…you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you!” he replied fiercely. “Why wouldn’t I?” Something seemed to dawn on him then, and his grin was replaced by a look of pure horror. “Oh god, Elain. Are you saying that you had a…a vision about a werewolf?”

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to tell you, and the others, too, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t hear any teachers talking about it, I made that up…”

“Have you told anyone else?” he asked, voice filled with alarm.

“No,” Elain replied, once again baffled by his reaction.

“Not even Nesta? Or the twins?”

“No! I wanted to tell you first. Because of…you know. When it happened. I felt so bad, running out on you like that, I promise it had nothing to do with you…”

“Tell me exactly what you saw,” he demanded, cutting her off. “Every single detail.”

Elain frowned at his urgency, unnerved by his change in attitude. “Um. Not much, really. It was night, obviously. A full moon. There was a werewolf standing in front of the Whomping Willow. It…it almost looked like it was staring at me. But that’s how I know it was on school grounds, because of the Whomping Willow.”

“And that’s it? Nothing else, no other…animals?”

“No. Just that.”

Lucien seemed to sag slightly. “Ok. And you’re sure you haven’t told anybody else about this?”

“I told you already, I haven’t….”

“It’s important that you don’t tell anybody else about this, Elain.”

“But, Nesta and Rhysand…”

“Nesta and Rhysand do not need to know,” Lucien said firmly, “because it has nothing to do with the tournament.”

“How can you be so sure?” she pressed. “I don’t want to believe Professor Spell-Cleaver would do this, but…”

“He wouldn’t.” His tone did not invite further argument. “And besides,” he added with a strange smile, “it’s not even a full moon today.”

“Oh.” Elain immediately felt idiotic. Why hadn’t she checked that? “Well, maybe it’s the second trial…” But even as she said it uncertainty started to take hold where before she had been so certain.

She desperately wanted to believe Lucien, but if he was right, it would mean that at some point in the future there would be a werewolf roaming around the Hogwarts grounds unchecked. It was infinitely better than having to fight it, but still.

“Did you see any people anywhere near the werewolf? Any…I don’t know, audience?” Lucien asked with a slightly bitter laugh.

“No. Just the werewolf. By itself.”

“So it sounds like all you saw is a rogue werewolf loose on the Hogwarts grounds, at some point in the future. And if it was sniffing around the Whomping Willow, then it sounds like he’s going to learn his lesson about trespassing.” His russet eye shone with humor as he said this, and Elain gaped at him.

“Does this not bother you? That I saw a werewolf wandering around school grounds?”

Lucien gulped, some of the humor vanishing from his gaze. “Of course,” he said gently. “But…it sounds like there’s not much we can do about it. Professor Spell-Cleaver and the teachers will take care of it.”

“But…”

“As long as you don’t go wandering around outside during the full moon then there shouldn’t be any danger. Right?”

“Right,” Elain agreed, still uncertain. “Don’t you think I should tell someone, though?”

“Definitely not,” Lucien said quickly. “It’ll just raise more questions. They’d probably end up grilling you about your visions…”

“Definitely not, then. You’re right, I just…” How to explain this fear? “Don’t you find it strange that my patronus looked like…that, and then I have this vision right after? What if it means that I…”

“No,” he said firmly. “Don’t even finish that thought.”

“Then why?” she prompted.

He was looking at her strangely now, his expression completely unreadable. He stared at her for so long that Elain started to squirm.

And then the door to the classroom burst open as students started filing in, and the spell was broken. Elain jumped to her feet and hurried out of the classroom, the second years looking at them in awe as they walked past.

“Good luck with the first Trial!” one of them squeaked.

“Thanks!” Lucien grinned broadly and waved at the younger students, ever the showman.

Once they were back in the hallway he grabbed her gently by the elbow, his expression once again serious.

“Look,” he said, taking what sounded like a shaky inhale. “Let’s not worry about this right now, alright? Let’s focus on the first trial, and then we’ll figure this out.”

His use of we was somehow reassuring, and Elain found herself nodding, even if she knew for a fact she wouldn’t be able to let this go.

Especially as she watched him walk away, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t asked him how he had known so certainly that today wasn’t a full moon.

---

Somehow time seemed to speed up even more, Elain’s dread growing along with it. Whatever relief she had felt at not facing a werewolf was quickly replaced by panic as she realized that once again she had absolutely no idea what she would be facing. The only information she had been given was that the first Trial was to start at sundown (which, if she hadn't spoken to Lucien about her suspicions, likely would have made her panic even more).

At dinner that night she once again stared at an empty plate, unable to manage even one bite. Nuala and Cer had given up trying to get her to eat, settling for a few sips of pumpkin juice that immediately set her stomach churning.

Elain started as a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder, so lost in thought she hadn’t heard anybody say her name. She turned and came face to face with Professor Alis, who looked like she was brimming with excitement.

“It’s time,” her Head of House said. “The champions are gathering on the grounds for the first trial.”

Elain’s stomach gave a spectacular lurch.

“Ok.” Her voice was somehow breathless and squeaky at the same time.

“Good luck!”

“You’ll do great! We’ll have snacks waiting for you after!”

“Thanks, guys…” Elain mumbled, letting her friends sandwich her in a sideways hug.

“At least beat Lucien,” Nuala whispered wickedly.

Elain let out a puff of laughter and stood on slightly shaky legs. Professor Alis wrapped an arm around her shoulders and escorted her out of the Great Hall. Heads turned as they walked by- some smiling encouragingly, others sneering.

As they passed by the end of the Slytherin table someone fell into a fit of violent coughing. Elain could have sworn she heard the word cheater through the coughs, but if Professor Alis heard, then she didn’t let on.

“Don’t worry about any of that, dear,” the teacher said fiercely. “Just do your best and prove to them you’re as much a champion as the others.”

Elain wasn’t convinced but she appreciated the vote of confidence all the same.

“Professor,” she started uncertainly as they walked down the front steps and into the darkening grounds, “is it very dangerous, what we’ll be doing?”

Professor Alis squeezed her shoulder. “Of course there’s an element of danger.” Elain’s stomach somersaulted again. “But you’ll all be monitored the entire time, and if you feel like you can’t complete the task, or you end up in a situation you can’t handle, a teacher will be there to remove you right away.”

“Remove us from what?” Elain asked in alarm. The more she asked the less she was reassured, she decided. But her Head of House only smiled, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

As they rounded the Herbology greenhouses a shape loomed in the distance at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Elain realized they were stands, facing the edge of the woods.

They were going into the Forbidden Forest?

Professor Alis came to a stop in front of a tent that had been erected behind the stands. “Here you are,” she said brightly. “Eris Vanserra and Mr Koschei are inside, they’ll be filling you and the other champions in on the details. Good luck!”

Before she could ask anything else the teacher had given her shoulders another squeeze and had disappeared towards the stands. Elain took a shaky breath and walked into the tent. All three other champions were already assembled, though nobody spoke. Lucien was standing next to his brother, who winked at her as she walked in. Rhysand looked as unruffled as ever, though he seemed unable to stop pacing.

Nesta rushed over, her cheeks an uncharacteristic shade of grey. “I think they’re making us go into the forest,” she mumbled, swallowing thickly.

“I know,” Elain whispered back with a glance at the two ministry members. “Have they said anything?”

Nesta shook her head. “They’re waiting for the students to assemble first.”

It seemed to take an eternity. The sound of hundreds of footsteps and rumbling laughter trickled in through the tent, its occupants still standing in tense silence. Finally the noise faded towards the stands, and Eris came to stand in the center of the tent.

“Looks like the time has come!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “Everyone ready?”

“It would help if we knew what we had to do,” Nesta grumbled.

Elain reached for her hand and squeezed, as much to reassure Nesta as herself.

“Your first Trial,” Eris continued, “will test your problem solving skills, as well as ability to think calmly under pressure.”

Problem solving. That didn’t sound so bad- perhaps they wouldn’t have to duel anything after all…

“Your task is simple: you are to go into the Forbidden Forest and find a unicorn hair. Note that you will be judged not only on how quickly you complete your task, but also on how you deal with any obstacles you might encounter along the way.”

“That’s it?” Rhysand asked. “We just go in and find a unicorn hair?”

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Nesta spat. “Do you have any idea what lives in there?”

Elain silently agreed with her sister, though she liked this task infinitely more than the one she had been envisioning. She glanced at Lucien, standing uncharacteristically quiet behind Eris, and saw he seemed to be suppressing a smile.

“You’ll be going in staggered,” Mr Koschei cut in, ignoring the interruption. “We’ll be drawing names to determine the order.”

He retrieved a small velvet bag from his robes and held it out. “Ladies first.”

Elain heard Nesta gulp beside her as she reached into the bag, pulling out a small black marble with the number “1” etched into it.

“Well, less time to overthink it, I guess,” she said, setting her jaw in a determined line.

Elain reached in with slightly shaky fingers. Her own marble was a golden yellow, marked with a 4. She wasn’t sure whether to think of it as a blessing or a curse. Rhysand went next, picking out a blue marble marking him as second, leaving Lucien with a red marble and the second to last spot.

“There will be teachers on brooms monitoring the forest,” Eris continued. “If you find yourselves in trouble and wish to be rescued, simply send up red sparks and someone will come get you right away.”

She could do this. Just walk in, find some unicorn hairs, and walk out.

Right?

“You’ll be going into the forest ten minutes apart. Nesta, when you’re ready.” Eris held open the flap on the other side of the tent. Elain spotted the Forbidden Forest looming beyond it, silent and menacing and utterly, impenetrably dark.

“See you on the other side!” Nesta gave her hand one last squeeze, and then she was gone.

Rhysand went next, looking almost bored. And then it was just her and Lucien, with Eris looking back and forth between them with a wicked grin.

“See?” Lucien mumbled under his breath, flashing her a grin. “Told you it’d be something fun.”

Elain loosed a laugh. “If this is your idea of fun you need some new hobbies.”

A gust of wind blew open the opening to the tent, giving them another view of the eerie forest beyond. Elain shivered despite herself.

“Just remember,” Lucien whispered, so low she could barely hear him. “Unicorns prefer open spaces with fresh water. Look for a clearing or something with a stream or a pond.”

Elain blinked at him in surprise. “How do you know that?”

Lucien winked at her. “I pay attention in class sometimes.”

“You’re up, baby brother!” Eris called from the edge of the tent.

“One more thing,” Lucien whispered hurriedly. “If you need someone to light the way…just call Moony.” And with that he disappeared into the night.

If the last few weeks had flown by, then somehow the next ten minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly. There was nothing Elain could do but stand at the edge of the tent, shuffling nervously and wracking her brain for any knowledge about unicorns, the Forbidden Forest, or the many creatures that resided in it. The creatures that made it so dangerous that it was deemed Forbidden.

She could still back out. She could claim an illness, or say she couldn’t do it, and she would simply not receive any points. But then Hufflepuff House would once again be the losers, overlooked and mocked, and she’d be the coward who made it happen. The cheating coward, no less.

So Elain gritted her teeth, and when Eris held open the tent for her she walked out into the dark.

[personasintro]

Dear Mimi,

This isn't intended to be an ask, but perhaps by the end it will be. I've been enjoying reading your works for the last few months but NEVER comment and very rarely will vote or like any content (sorry about that). I have severe social anxiety, and unfortunately it seems it has gotten worse and is seeping into the land of internet also.

I've been writing stories and fanfic for as long as I can remember but have never been brave enough to post online. I guess one of my biggest fears is that people will acknowledge my existence or worse yet expect me to acknowledge theirs.

I don't know why or what it is going to achieve even posting this to you to be honest.

I just guess I wanted to say I appreciate all your effort, hard work, the time and everything else. Looking forward to reading Milfed, as a single mother to a 13 and 3 year old it would be great seeing a mumma find someone even if it is just for a good time 😆

Anyways thankyou again and sorry for my ramblings. Hope you have had a great start to 2023!

Ps: How is the weather? Sorry, I felt like I needed to ask a question after all that after all.

Awe, I’m sorry to hear that! I’m very grateful that you decided to reach out to me, it doesn’t go unnoticed and I truly appreciate it! Thank you! 🫶

I’ll always encourage readers to support their favorite writers, there are so many other ways they can do that and it makes a huge difference 🤧 there are so many writers who leave because they feel like they’re not getting enough love and support. Don’t forget guys, even reblogging on tumblr and voting on wattpad makes a big difference! 💘

What I wanna say, if interacting with others doesn’t make you comfortable, you can always just reblog and I can promise you, any writer would be very grateful for that alone!

When it comes to you writing, you can still write and have zero interaction with readers if that’s what you prefer! Don’t feel bad because of it 🫶 Just explain your feelings beforehand. You don’t want readers who are disrespectful and not understanding anyway 😌

Weather today is very lovely here hahah! Hope your day is just as lovely and warm 🥰

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

✨✨✨✨✨ANGEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! ✨✨✨✨✨

Okay hiii ~~ I’m dumping all these thoughts on you so be prepared 🤭

So like I said in my last message, I’ve been a very dark place recently where everything seems like it’s constantly hitting, but after asking for your advice, I took it to heart and really followed if, finding it really did help taking it one tiny step at a time with the simplest things. Life is still throwing every little shit it can find at me, but I’m dealing with it much much better, and I feel like I owe you some thanks to that, so again, I don’t think I can ever tell you how much I appreciate you and enjoy your presence!! I never got to respond to it, but I read your post recently and felt like this was more important to respond first.

Two, I’m so saddened to hear you’re feeling a bit lost about the writing and fandom. I haven’t been on much trying to focus on my self so I don’t know much, but when I do check in every now and then, it does seem… quiet? I hope and think it’ll liven up the closer it comes to June. But regardless of that—

I ADORE YOUR WRITING. Your writing is some of the most thought-provoking, emotional pieces I’ve read, and it truly shows and reflects just how much heart and soul you put into it. I’ll be honest, there’s some times when I can’t read certain fics of yours because I’m not mentally in the right headspace for some, but— to me— it just reflects on how great and impactful your writing is!!! Idk if u remember, and this was when I newly started following you so I was like extra super nervous and shy lol, but the person that requested the jealous Ettore was me. I think I remember sending an anon back and thanking you bc I was impressed and thankful you accepted it, but also I was so shy my hands were shaking the entire time so it was a bit blurry lol. I remember literally fangirling and gushing to my two friends (one who doesn’t even care about Ewan lmao) about how I was so impressed and blown away by it!! Your Ettore series had me hooked (AND IM STILL NOT OVER HOW IT ENDED— I WILL NEVER RECOVER. I will sue you for my emotional damages 🥺)! The Aemond one where after a toxic relationship, the reader tries to escape and he doesn’t let her literally made me want to wallow in the despair. And the Michael Gavey one where I basically wrote an essay of how much I loved it is still one I think about way too much for it to be healthy— plus it’s given me some really crazy dreams 🤭 Those are just my top three! Much to say, I adore your writing. I adore the commitment and dedication you give and feed us. And most importantly, I adore you. Although selfishly I hope you continue, I hope you know no matter what you ever decide to do, I’ll always support and follow. I am a la loyal after all 🤭😂

In all seriousness, I hope life is treating you well, and i hope you’re being kind to yourself. I’m sending all my love and support!! Please stay safe and healthy. Much much much love to you, Ange 🩶🩶🩶

-Hannah Montana anon.

Post Scriptum:: this was insanely long and completely manic-produced, I am so so sorry !! ✨

I am so glad that my advice has helped a little and things are starting to improve for you. I hope they continue to get better!

I had no idea your were my jealous Ettore anon! I had so much fun writing that, thank you for sending it! And thank you for the kind words, they truly mean a lot. You have never been anything but kind and supportive to me, and I hope you realise how appreciated it is!

I've no plans to deactivate this blog. I enjoy reading other people's fics, and looking at all the pretty gifs. I just need to do something for myself that makes me feel better about my own creative output. I've no idea what that is yet, but I will figure it out!

Thank you for taking the time to check in. I hope the rest of your week is a good one. Sending so much love to you! xoxo

[jongbross]

an open letter to kim jongin...

yesterday, i posted this letter, answering such a deep question a dear anon sent me: "what makes jongin so special to you?"

i felt conscious about this, as i've written in such a delicate time, so i decided to delete it right after. but i realized that i shouldn't be scared, or worried, or conscious about people reading what i feel about jongin. every feeling is valid and we should all respect each other - and those who doesn't, you can fuck off.

thank you guys for providing me a space where i can be true, where i'm at least the slightest comfortable to post this. it means a lot <3

so please, consider this an open letter to kim jongin...

"i keep staring at the keyboard. like, i know i have so much to tell you, jongin, but i just don’t know how to express myself?

i’ll give it a try anyway.

well, i just wanted to say you thank you for coming into my life. i still remember so vividly the moment i saw you - like, actually saw you, noticed you for the first time. i remember being so overwhelmed by your dancing and by the mv itself. i remember the feeling, the 'damn i gotta see more of that' building up inside of me. i remember talking about you and people being like 'yeah, he’s great'.

they were right, you are. the greatest, the prettiest, the most talented. i don’t care that you might not be confident with your voice, because i love it; i don’t care that you don’t think you’re cool, cause you’re the coolest to me. it’s crazy how much i love you and how much i care about you. 

you see, i always had idols in my life. being a fan is such a big part of my life and i didn’t regret stanning anyone up to this day (got disappointed, yeah, but never regretted). i always loved my idols with such a passion and some of them are still here with me while others drifted away naturally from me. somehow, for some reason, i was so sure you would drift away too; i was so certain that i would fall in love with you, get obsessed and then move on with my life but, i gotta say, you surprised me, jongin-ah.

it’s so weird how my eyes always look at you first, how my ears listens to your voice first, how you pull me towards you every time. and it’s so weird how i feel every time i see you, how happy i get and angry too because it shouldn’t be normal to love someone like this. it isn’t real, this feeling. it’s way too big to be true.

and i kept feeling that - i still do, to be honest -, but something so curious happened. i remember being so down and so sad after everything happened (you know what i'm talking about), and i was looking for comfort. i blamed myself for becoming your fan, and my guides told me that you were meant to be in my path. now, i don’t know if it was truly them or it was just wishful thinking, but i remember i cried so hard and my heart ached so much but i felt like it was true - you were meant to be in my path. our roads would cross no matter what, it was destiny that brought you to me or me to you, whatever.

and gosh, i’m so glad it did. i’m so glad i found you at some point and that you took my hand and showed me exo’s road, too. i’m so glad i let you. i’m so glad to be here today, writing this even though no one may see it. because i love you so fucking much, jongin, and no one can get this. i’m happy because of you - and then i see you and feel like i’m sharing this happiness with you so that feeling gets even bigger and it becomes a cycle where i’m never truly sad anymore, because even when i am i feel you with me ready to hold me and bring me up again so i can keep walking with you down this road and i can keep being happy and seeing you be happy too.

i love you. words can’t describe how much, but i love you. songs can’t come close to how much, but i love you. measures of time and space can’t explain it either, but it is forever. i will always be grateful for you. i love you so much, and i thought it would pass, i thought that maybe it wouldn’t last forever, but it will. i’m so sure of it now. because when i picture my future, you’re there with me. you’re in the back of my head, with your perfect smile and baby eyes, cheering for me and telling me to keep going, to keep looking for my true happiness.

so i will, i promise.

love you, kim jongin."

[david3096]

Even if I wanted to.

I wrote a Tyrus fic! Here´s the link to AO3 if you want to read it there 😁

“Do you really have to go?” He doesn't quite know how to answer that question, he can see in his boyfriend's face a combination of sadness and sweetness, the two of them are lying on the floor of his house, with too many pillows around them, the TV is playing Cyrus' favorite music.

“Do you mean now or on the trip?” TJ asks with sincere curiosity before giving his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. “Besides, wasn't spending all day together enough for you?” It's more a question to tease him than anything else and by the pout his boyfriend makes, he knows he's succeeded.

“No.” He answers, almost serious. “You know I never have enough time with you.” And okay, maybe that's one of the cheesiest things his boyfriend has said to him since they met, but, if he hadn't felt a rush of warmth start in his stomach and spread throughout his body, he would have teased him about it.

“I don't want to leave, Cy.” The truth is, it's a complicated situation. It's one of the last weekends they have off before going back to school, they had planned to go to the movies, eat at The Spoon, spend the afternoon making out and pretending to watch another movie... the ideal day for TJ.

But out of the blue, his grandmother decided to celebrate her birthday a month before her actual birthday. He thought it was kind of funny at first, but now he finds it annoying, he wants to spend as much time with Cyrus as possible, before school and other projects force them to see each other for an hour or two a day.

“I know.” That's his boyfriend's response, neither wants to admit how much the whole thing hurts. “It will be the first time we'll spend so many days away from each other.”

“I'll spend four days without you.” If TJ is honest, it didn't seem like such a big deal at first, but now that he has his suitcase packed and knows he has to go and not see his boyfriend for four days, plus put up with his relatives, he finds it boring and unbearable.

“We're kind of ridiculous, aren't we?” Cyrus has a big smile on his face as he says those words and TJ can do nothing but laugh and kiss him again.

For a few moments nothing is important, not the trip, not his family, not the time they'll spend apart, how cheesy they are, how sad it makes them. The only thing that matters to him is to feel and enjoy the touch of Cyrus' lips on his. Feeling his hands run over his body and him doing the same on his. All that matters is enjoying this moment to the fullest.

“Are you sure your grandmother can't celebrate her 75th birthday until next year?” That's the first thing his boyfriend says to him when they stop kissing and it only reminds him that he's the funniest guy in the world. Or maybe he's just in love but it's been over two years since they've been dating, so he thinks he's truly funny.

“I blame my Uncle Jack.” It's the only reason his grandmother has decided to bring her birthday forward, his Uncle Jack has lived in Spain for as long as he can remember and, truth be told, he's never spoken to him for more than an hour in his 16 years of life. So he's a little upset, but, his grandmother wants to have his whole family together and his father is excited to see his brother, so there's not much he can do. “I don't know him, but right now I hate him a little bit.”

“Don't hate him.” This is a good reminder that his boyfriend is the sweetest, most empathetic person he knows. “It will probably be a good opportunity to get to know him.”

“Or to get bored while everyone laughs and I text you telling you that I wish I was with you.” It's not the first time TJ has had to go out of town to a family reunion, but it is the first time he'll last more than two days with his dad's family so he pretty much knows what will happen.

“Honestly? That helps my self-esteem.” They both laugh and Cyrus surprises him by kissing him again and everything stops being important again, the only thing he wants to focus on is his boyfriend.

“You know?” TJ asks when his boyfriend ends the kiss. “I'm surprised that after two years your kisses still feel like the first one.”

“Like the very first one?” Cyrus arches his eyebrows and a wicked smile plays on his lips, he knows he shouldn't have said that. “You mean when you almost threw up from excitement and nervousness and we had to try again five days later?” He laughs too, it's one of those things he never thought would happen and it's also a situation he never thought could make him laugh, but with Cyrus anything is possible.

“You're never going to let me forget it, are you?”

“Nope.” He affirms, still with a smile on his lips. “I'll make sure Buffy mentions it when she makes her toast at our wedding.”

“Our wedding?” Now it's his turn to grin mischievously. “I didn't think that...” Before he can finish, his boyfriend kisses him again. It's unfair, he also wanted to tease him a little bit, but to tell the truth, he's not complaining. He wants to kiss Cyrus as much as possible, it's going to be a long four days.

For a while they remain silent, they look at each other without saying anything and TJ looks again at the clock on the wall of the living room of his boyfriend's house, it's almost ten o'clock at night, he should have been home an hour ago.

“Muffin...” He pauses, he doesn't want to say goodbye, he never wants to leave, but it's time. He knows it and he hates it. “I really have to go now.”

“Just...” Cyrus makes a funny gesture, as if he can't bring himself to say the words. “Give me five more minutes.” He decides not to say anything, he prefers to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek and hug him tight, his head rests on TJ's chest, he really doesn't want to leave.

They spend 15 minutes cuddling, he doesn't care much, he wants to stay with Cyrus as long as possible.

“Cyrus...” His voice is barely a whisper, he tries to sound calm and sweet.

“I know, I know.” Cyrus breaks the embrace sadly. “You have to go.”

“Yeah, but that's not what I want to tell you.” He decides to put his hands on his boyfriend's cheeks, they both stare into each other's eyes. “I just want to remind you that I love you.” Two months ago, it was the first time TJ confessed to him that his feelings had reached a new level.

“I love you too.” He decides to give him a small kiss on the lips, if someone had told him three years ago that he would be kissing the cute boy he met one day on the swings in the park, he would never have believed it. And not only that, the cute boy on the swings loves him back. Life is full of good surprises.

Cyrus stands up, gives him a smile and offers him his hand to help him up, he accepts it without second thoughts.

They walk slowly to the door, his boyfriend steps forward and takes his leather jacket that he left on the wooden coat rack between the window and the door, gives it to him and he puts it on in an automatic movement, then takes out of the jacket pocket the military green beanie that Cyrus knitted for him when they celebrated six months of being boyfriends and puts it on.

“You look so handsome with the beanie.” Cyrus looks like he can't wait to kiss him again and they might, they're used to this ritual, spending too much time trying to say goodbye, taking advantage of every second to allow themselves to linger a few more minutes.

“So without a beanie you think I look gross?” He jokes, to avoid another such long kissing session, he really has to go, he has to finish arranging his backpack, check his suitcase, chat with his parents and hope they're not furious. Cyrus laughs, loudly, he'll miss hearing his laugh, the way he wrinkles his nose when he tries to be cute, feeling the warmth of his body against his own, his lips touching his and sometimes, running down over his body.

“You got me.” Cyrus replies, putting his hands on TJ's shoulders. “I only accepted to be your boyfriend after I imagined you wearing a beanie.” He laughs, but falls to temptation and kisses him again, it seems to take Cyrus by surprise, but soon they are in the same rhythm as always.

They finish kissing and stay like that for a while, their foreheads touching, Cyrus has his hands on his neck and TJ's hands are on his boyfriend's waist.

He knows there's no way that in four days he'll forget the way Cyrus smells, the way he touches him, the way he cares for him and loves him. Nor the things he likes, the quirks that drive him a little crazy, there's no way he'll forget that in four days.

But he knows he will miss him, he will miss him in a way he has never missed before.

He breaks away again, it's time to go, he can't put it off any longer.

“Muffin, take off that sad face.” He says sweetly, with his index finger on his boyfriend's chin, forcing him to look him straight in the eyes. “We'll send each other lots of pics and we'll talk all day long. I promise.” He kisses him on the cheek. “You won't even notice I'm gone.” He knows it's a lie.

“Neither I or my lips agree with that.” He cannot help but laugh and gives him a small kiss on the lips, so fleeting that it could only have lasted two seconds. It's probably the last one they'll have for the next four days. “Try to have fun at your family reunion, okay?” He can't help but groan, he'd almost forgotten how boring and tiring these days would be, he loves the effect Cyrus has on him.

“I don't promise much.” By the face Cyrus makes, his boyfriend also knows he's not kidding. “I'm going to miss you so much. I love you Cyrus, don't forget that.”

“I love you too TJ.” This time, they don't kiss, they let go completely, Cyrus opens the door and watches him walk through it. “Don't forget that either.”

“I couldn't, not even if I wanted to.” He doesn't say a joke even though he's dying to. “See you Tuesday.”

“See you Tuesday, I love you.”

“I love you too.” He starts walking home with the cold January wind hitting his face, the feeling of regret creeping in without warning, he wishes he could tell his parents that he doesn't want to go, that he wants to stay with Cyrus for as long as possible. He knows he still can't, besides, he wants to see his grandmother.

He sighs, but before sadness and homesickness can take over, his phone buzzes three times, it's texts from Cyrus.

I love you TJ.

I miss you already.

Don't forget to bring me a gift when you get back.

He can't help but smile, the same warmth as always appears in his stomach and runs through his whole body, Tuesday can't come fast enough.