#She is a pretty and well-fed horse now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elsweetheart · 2 years ago

Text

what’s the worst that could happen to a girl that’s already hurt?

🎀 when your best friend ellie stands you up, the man who raised you both swoops in to save the day.

🎀 kittie??? using capital letters?? well i never. i present the much awaited father figure joel fic! it’s also a bff!ellie fic! double homicide. warning: it’s pretty angsty in some places, mentions of your birth father being a shitty guy, mention of alcohol (unrelated to your dad), all around daddy issues, ellie’s kind of a dick in this, fem!reader, reader is a woman luver, this is NOT hate towards dina she is simply just there, lemme know if i missed anything! p.s i’m trying out adding little cover pics to my fic, tried to make this one have the same vibes as like a journal / diary entry with stickers n stuff ? ok bye

Ellie was an everywhere kind of girl. She was strong, capable, intelligent, and always knew what to do. To you, she was truly a superhero around Jackson, always making sure that everyone was safe and doing her best to take on the jobs she thought was too dangerous for everyone else. Her selflessness was what drew you to her in a romantic sense in the first place, not that she had any idea. In her eyes, the two of you were long time best friends who grew up together — experiencing just about everything together, and you were certain to her that’s all it was. You’d liked her since you’d met.

For the most part, it didn’t suck. getting to be close with Ellie made it worth it, smoking together, laughing, and sometimes even playfully flirting (the butterflies in your stomach can attest to this.) There were hard times of course, Ellie getting with other girls and telling you all about them, the fact she probably saw you as a little sister, and most recently — she’d gotten super busy. So busy, that you had to start going out of your way just to say hi to her each day, always running about Jackson to find her. To you, it was worth it. You missed her.

“Boo!” Two hands grabbed you from behind as you swept the hay in the barn making you yelp and turn around with a wide eyed expression. “Totally got you.” Ellie smirked, backing off. She wore her khaki green jacket that you loved over her hoodie, done up with her jeans and her backpack on.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked softly, chest swelling with affection. She stepped around you, going to pat one of the horses as greeting.

“Thought I’d stop by, about to head out on patrol.” She took a carrot from the feeding tray and fed it to the horse.

“You always seem to be on patrol.” You smiled, and you cursed yourself at how it came out. It sounded kind of bitter, and shit — maybe you were a little bitter— but you knew it wasn’t ultimately her fault that you felt neglected. Perceptive as ever, Ellie turned her head towards you quickly wearing guilt on her face.

“I’m sorry, dude. I miss hanging out.” She took a step towards you and you let yourself sulk, turning your back to her and continuing to sweep. “I do.” She took another step closer.

“Don’t call me dude. I’m a girl.” You were being a little pathetic now, punishing her when she didn’t fully deserve it.

“Since when?” She chuckled and you whipped your head to her in shock, a look of anger and disbelief accidentally showcased in your expression. “I mean since when did you care about me calling you dude?”

When you didn’t respond, Ellie sighed— stepping up directly behind you. “Alright, I didn’t wanna have to do this. But I’m gonna have to call in reinforcements from the tickle monster.” She spoke seriously, and before you got the chance to protest this her hands were jabbing into your waist, fingers wiggling up and down your ribs as you squealed, a smile making a breakthrough onto your face as if despite everything your body couldn’t help but enjoy her touch.

“Ellie stop!” You chortled, your hands falling loose on the broom. Before it fell, Ellie reached around and caught it before swinging it round and hiding it behind her back. You spun around to her, lurching forward to try and grab it but instead just stepping right up close into her space.

It seemed like everything froze, just like that. Your faces were close and her eyes were boring into yours — the green of them almost painfully bright today, her cheeks looking like they’d caught a bit of sun, hair jostled in her messy half bun from all the commotion. You blinked up at her, collecting yourself as she smiled back smugly.

“Give my broom back.” You breathed out, confidence slightly lost at the close proximity.

“One condition.” She whispered and you leant on your hip with an attitude, tilting your head at her as if to say ‘what?’. She sucked in a breath, and you swear her eyes flickered to your lips for just a second but you might have imagined it. “Stop being mad at me. Let’s hang out.” She proposed and your heart fluttered. Finally.

“Alright.” You muttered with a shy smile and she tilt her head, grin widening.

“Yeah?” She seemed equally excited, and you felt elated. You had gotten in your own head a little with Ellie being so busy, thinking that maybe she’d been busy for a reason — trying to politely get you off her back. This was the confirmation you’d needed that you were overthinking, as usual.

“Remember how you said you were gonna teach me about skin… care…stuff? Let’s do it. It’s about time I start acting like a girl.” She chuckled, stepping back and breaking the tension of your closeness a little. You stepped back too, a little flushed from the moment and nodded happily. Footsteps approached the barn, capturing your attention for a moment before you rushed to organise your little hang out session.

“Tonight? At mine?”

Ellie’s head was turned towards the door, distracted by Dina poking her head around and realising she had been keeping her waiting. Her head snapped back to you as she wiped her hands down on her jeans nodding.

“Yeah, cool. I gotta get going but I’ll see you, yeah? It’s a date.” She rambled out, walking backwards for a moment to face you before turning around as you bid her farewell. You tried not to overthink the ‘it’s a date.’

Night time rolled around, and you were cringing at yourself in the mirror. It was just going to be a chill little night in with Ellie, the same way it always was since you’d had your own place in Jackson— but you’d put in a little extra effort to look cute, despite wearing just a tank top and pyjama pants. You did your hair all pretty, applying a little bit of makeup you’d made yourself from ingredients, which you’d learnt how to make from a book about female prisoners. You felt cute, and you were hoping Ellie might think the same— but you didn’t wanna get ahead of yourself.

A knock at your door sounded a little while into the night, and you tried to quell the relieved butterflies tearing through your stomach by taking a deep breath, heading out your room to answer it. You swung the door open, expecting Ellie — only to be met with Joel. Your smile faltered for no more than a second, wondering how long Ellie’s patrol was going on for before fixing your face, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

Joel was what you thought every man should be. You’d first met him and Ellie a few days outside of Jackson when they were trying to find Joel’s brother, Tommy. You were headed to Jackson too to find the only person that might’ve been alive in your family, your dad. You were no more than a year younger than Ellie, out there all by yourself and Joel couldn’t let you continue on that way. You were headed to the same place, so he let you tag along — plus, he figured Ellie might want a friend. So it turned out, your dad wasn’t the greatest guy. He was just as neglectful and angry since the last time you’d seen him as a child. After causing more damage, he packed up with his new family and left the safe haven of Jackson to live in a warmer climate (for whatever reason.) You were just a kid, a damaged and lonely kid — and Joel being the man he was, stepped up. He wasn’t just caring for Ellie, he now had you on his hands— making sure your needs were met and you were living comfortably in your new residence. The two of you had grown close over the years, he was the closest thing to a father you ever had.

“Y’asked to borrow sugar for those cookies you said you’d make for Maria’s thing?” He drawled, swinging his backpack off his shoulder to dig through it— having remembered the favour you’d briefly asked of him a week ago. “Got a whole tub of it, right here. Don’t let anyone else see that, they’ll come knockin’ and you’ll be out again in no time.” He presented you with a wooden tub, filled to the brim with brown sugar. Your expression softened, taking it in your hands as you looked up at him gratefully.

“Knew I could count on you, old man.” you grinned, the nickname you and Ellie had so kindly gifted him never losing its charm. He nodded, shy of affection but smiled anyway — your sweet ways poking him right in the soft spot. He stepped back to walk away, and before he could go any further your voice cut through, stopping him in his tracks.

“Joel.” you shot out, almost urgently. God, you felt a little desperate.

“Yeah?” He gruffed, and you paused for a moment, brows furrowed as you started to realise how late it was actually getting. Was Ellie coming at all? He saw right through your expression, knowing that something had to be bothering you. Joel stepped a little closer, tilting his head at your far away expression. “What’s up, kiddo?” Any other time you’d smile at the nickname. Ellie was kid, and you were kiddo. That, or ‘thing one’ and ‘thing two’ from that old Cat in the Hat book he’d shown you.

“Have you seen Ellie tonight, at all?” you gnawed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your concern and failing. Joel seemed to falter, his eyes skimming from you to behind you, noticing how you’d set up your living room. Jars of the skincare, face masks, the lot of it — laid out on the coffee table. Bowls of snacks sat out, untouched, with blankets strewn about to make the couch look comfy and fun. You’d even hung up some fairy lights that had been a pain to find batteries for if he remembers correctly, you begging him to always look for them on his hunts. He was piecing things together a little when your voice dragged his attention back to you, your frown deepening. “It’s just, she said she was gonna come round and hang out with me tonight. ‘Was gonna teach her about skin care. We haven’t hung out in ages and I guess… I just thought…” You trailed off, Joel’s eyes dropping down to his shoes briefly.

“Yeah, uh.” He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, unsure how to approach the situation that he was realising to be more delicate than he thought. “Saw ‘er at the bar with that Dina on the way over here. They… were gettin’ pretty wasted.” He sounded apologetic, like he knew just how pathetic you were and you couldn’t stop your face from falling — rejection and humiliation swiftly settling in making your cheeks heat up.

“Oh.” Your eyes widened, before they dropped away from Joel’s pitying gaze. “Yeah, makes sense I mean they were just on patrol together.” You rushed out a chuckle, hand resting back on your door like you wanted to close it. “Well thanks for stopping by with the sugar Joel, you’re the best.” You hurried, backing up so you could send him away, not wanting to give away how upset you were. It was no use though, Joel knew you. He knew the look on your face all too well, that same look of rejection on your face that he’d seen when your dad was still around. You had tells, your face would go all tight and rigid like you were afraid any display of emotion might send you hurtling over the edge into tears. Joel placed his hand on the door before you had even made an attempt to shut it, gazing at you for a moment trying to find the right words to say. It wasn’t often he had to do this kind of thing, a dad duty.

“You uh— you got room for me in there? I’m startin’ to look a little old, maybe I could… benefit from this typ’a thing.” He suggested, voice serious like it always was with a softness to his expression. You stared back at him, slightly surprised but considering it. You could send him away, spend the rest of the night in tears and eating all the snacks you’d prepared, or… “Until Ellie decides to show her sorry ass, of course.” He added, throwing in a jokey smile at the end. Joel smiling was rare, so when he did smile you always found it contagious. You pushed your door open wider, stepping aside.

“Welcome to my spa, mister Miller.”

Before long, Joel’s coat and boots were kicked off at your door and he was sat on your couch, your cold hands smearing your home made face mask over his face.

“You really need to shave. This beard is what’s making you look old.” You joked, the pink goo narrowly avoiding his beard hairs as you rubbed it into his cheek.

“Yeah yeah, you try findin’ a razor that’s worth shit around here.” He shook his head making you tut at his movement obstructing your application. “This supposed to burn?” He frowned, pointing to his face. Your eyes widened, pulling back. You were sure you had made it hypoallergenic, but the book you learnt how to make it from was pretty dated — maybe it was wrong. He chuckled at your expression, relaxing. “m’fuckin with ya, kiddo.”

You scrunched your nose angrily, scooping out some product and smearing it over his mouth so he couldn’t talk, his reaction to this making you burst out laughing. He wiped it off with the back of his hand, glaring at you, scrunching his own face up in disgust.

“Tastes like shit.”

“Well that’s because you’re not supposed to eat it, it’s to replenish the moisture barrier in your skin.” You enunciated, repeating what you’d read in your book proudly.

“To what?” He sarked and you rolled your eyes playfully, prodding his cheek gently to get him to turn it.

“No more questions. Let me finish this, grandpa.” You concentrated, applying the rest of the face mask to his skin. You leant back, admiring his glossy pink mask, all done. “Well, don’t you look pretty.” You held back your laugh, and he reached up to gently touch the sticky layer over his skin.

“What, you ain’t got no cucumbers for my eyes?” he leant back in his seat and you laughed at the imagery as you picked up your hand mirror, beginning to apply the face mask to your own skin.

“C’mon now Joel. You know that cucumbers are a luxury this time of year, I’m not wasting them on you.” You scooped out product, smoothing the refreshing slime across your cheek. He chuckled, raising his eyebrows as if to say ‘fair enough’ before falling quiet. You glanced his way, nodding at the popcorn bowl on the table. “Help yourself to the snacks, or i’m just gonna eat them all.” You chuckled lightly. He didn’t, as expected— arms crossed over his chest.

“So what do I do now? Just wait?” He looked around, taking in the way you’d decorated the place with hopes to impress Ellie. His heart was old and damaged, but it twinged in sympathy for you — knowing her repeated absence was probably weighing on you, the pair of you once joined at the hip.

“Yeah, it’ll dry and then you can peel it right off.” You smiled, your focus now centred in on making sure you didn’t get the mask in your eyebrows.

“Kiddo, I’m sorry you got stood up.” He turned to look at you and your movements froze, turning to look back at him caught off guard.

“Really, Joel— it’s okay, and I really appreciate you being here.” You smile, trying to convince him that you weren’t hurt by Ellie ditching you for Dina, the pure existence of the dark haired girl filling you with nerves and slight insecurity.

“But you’d rather her be here, right?” You wanted to put your defensives up, but his thick comforting accent made you sigh— putting down the jar and mirror, finished on your face. It was hard not to tell Joel the truth, maybe it would feel good to talk to someone about it. You opened your mouth to speak, and he cut you off. “You like’er.” He stated, and your words died in your throat. Surely he wasn’t calling you out like that?

“Of course I like Ellie, she’s my—”

“Not… like that. You love her.”

Your throat closed up and you blinked, how the fuck did he know? You said nothing, confirming his suspicions with your silence and your eyes got a little glassy, sure that this ordeal was making you look even more pathetic than before.

“And, hell— I want you to know it’s alright by me. Not that you need my permission or anythin’ but— i’m… i’m good with the gay stuff, always have been. N’ you two make sense together. I think i’ve always kinda known.” His forehead line deepened as he tried to word things sensitively, being gentle not exactly his forte.

“Well… thanks Joel. i’m sure i’ll just… get over it.”

“What I’m sayin’ is… You can talk to me. Alright?”

“Alright.”

You’d helped Joel peel off the mask, and now you were applying a cooling moisturiser that you’d made to his skin that was a little pink from the peel. “Now you’d better not go around tellin’ anyone I’d had a spa day with you. Don’t wanna damage my reputation.” He weakly threatened you as you smoothed the pearly product into his rough skin. Times like this, when he was going back and forth with you in such a humorous way made it easy to forget what he was capable of, how many people he’d killed effortlessly.

“And what’s your reputation. Grumpy old man?” You raised an eyebrow making him chuckle.

“Watch it.”

You moved on to apply the product to your own face, and he picked up your hand mirror, checking out your handiwork. To him, he looked the same — just a little shinier, though he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. A comfortable silence fell over you as you smoothed the product into your skin, reaching forward with your other hand and stuffing some popcorn into your mouth. His chuckle faded into a fond smile as he watched you miss your mouth with some of the kernels, giggling to yourself.

“You and Sarah would’a got on.”

Maybe he was feeling sentimental, it was always harder not to face your emotions later on in the night — and perhaps the ambience of your home that you’d made was reminding him of old times. You slowed your movements, as if you’d move too fast and burst his bubble of reminiscing. You wanted Joel to feel comfortable like he’d made you. You even chewed slower to be quieter, staying silent to let him speak as he stared into space at one of the lit candles on your fireplace. “She always liked doin’ this kinda thing. I always said no. Was too much of a manly man.” He scoffed with a sad smile at the silliness behind his reason, shaking his head slightly in regret.

“I would have liked to know her.” You admit softly, staring at his profile— still glowy from the product you’d applied.

“She was all girly, like you. Always wearin’ pink n’ purple. Would’a been the best of friends.” He finally turned to look at you, his eyes a little sad and glossy at the distant and lost possibility. Yours were too, you couldn’t imagine his loss— Joel never spoke about Sarah. You realised now, that he was sharing something vulnerable with you because you’d been brave enough to fess up to something vulnerable too that night, which made your heart expand in size by ten. For tonight, your Ellie wound was patched up by Joel. You touched his arm, and you shared a smile.

Joel stood with his boots on, pulling his coat on at the door — having just reached midnight and he figured it wasn’t appropriate to stay any longer.

“You feeling like a new man after that facial?” You jabbed with a grin. He chuckled, buttoning up his thick jacket preparing for the snowy weather.

“Damn right.” He went along with it making you laugh. He stood up straight after pulling his backpack on his back, looking down at you with more sincerity now. “You gonna be alright kiddo? Can talk to her if you want but I reckon you… got it handled.” He trailed off knowingly when your eyes widened at the suggestion.

“No, I’m sure me and her will talk… and i’m okay, thanks Joel.” You nod at him with more meaning than you’re both willing to address again and he nods back.

“I’ll see you.”

Jackson was quiet that time of night, watching his step as to not slip on melted ice. Joel’s eyes flit up from his boots to the figure fumbling away from the bar on the path towards the living spaces. Ellie, drunk as a skunk hobbling home, Dina in the distance stumbling her separate way.

“Ellie.” Joel greet, stepping up behind her and she swung around, gleefully throwing her arms up.

“Joel!”

“Let’s get you home.” He nodded, stepping by her side to make sure she didn’t fall and hurt herself. He wasn’t mad at her, she probably didn’t even know — but he couldn’t help but sigh at her thoughtless, joyful mood.

“Why’re you out so late, old man?” Ellie slurred slightly, head bowed to watch her step carefully.

“Don’t you worry about me kid.” He took a hold of her arm when she stumbled lightly, having lost the card game one too many times with Dina. Dina had needed cheering up after a spat with Jesse, and Ellie had stepped up to help being the good friend she was. It was mainly to get her to stop whining about it on their shared patrol trips.

“You had plans tonight. Shouldn’t’ve been in there gettin’ wasted. You know that.” His voice was quiet but meaningful and Ellie’s head rose from its position, staring ahead with a confused expression before it settled in realisation, saying your name.

“Shit.” She swore, wiping a hand down her face as she arrived at her house, right beside Joel’s. The thought of blowing you off so badly seemed sobering and she climbed the porch step, fumbling for her keys and turning to look at the man stood before her, even in her drunk state recognising the fatherly look of disappointment on his face. “Was she mad?” She squint and Joel stepped back.

“No.” He confirmed and she sighed, watching him for a moment. “Make it right, Ellie.” He nodded, before departing to his own house. Ellie sighed once more. She’d fucked up, bad.

♡ ♡ ♡

#platonic!joel #fatherfigure!joel #bff!ellie #ellie williams angst #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

941 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 6 months ago

Note

I need rhett or jake to teach me how to ride a horse

I feel like you already sent me a jake one (which i wanna save for my princess au) so I've gone for Rhett (this could be read as Waiting For The Sun Reader but I'm not specifying)

Horses weren't supposed to be scary. Rhett had never thought so, but, then again, he'd grown up around them. His girl, though, she hadn't grown up around horses.

She looked so cute, in her jeans, white shirt (that said Cowboy Pillows over the tits), and his Stetson. Rhett wore one of his caps as he tacked up Pumpkin. Pumpkin, who acted like she didn't know him when he walked up in his cap. That was his lovely, overdramatic mare.

Her ears were pinned back as he brushed her back. "Seriously?" He asked and pulled his hat off, revealing who he was. She calmed down after that, ears moving forward as she realised it was his dad. "Are you gonna be nice for my girl?" He asked and fed her a treat.

Pumpkin snorted.

He placed her saddle on her back and cinched it. As soon the girth tightened around her belly, Pumpkin put her ears back went to bite him, but he just pushed her away.

She was all talk. Rhett knew she was gonna be the best girl for his girl. He placed his cap back on his head, grabbed her reins, and walked her out of the barn.

That was the thing about Pumpkin. As soon as she had her tack on, she was like another horse. She was calm, almost like she was high.

And there she was, thumbs hooked around her belt loops as she watched him with Pumpkin. Rhett sucked in a breath. He placed the reins over Pumpkins neck and walked towards her.

"Cowboy pillows, huh?" He asked as he grabbed her hips and pulled her into him.

She licked her lips, keeping on hand on the back of the Stetson as she looked up at him. "Yep," she said, popping the p. "You can lay on them once you teach me how to ride.

"Darlin', I already know you can ride."

She rolled her eyes, but kissed him anyway. "C'mon, introduce me to your noble steed."

Noble steed. Pumpkin had never been called that before. He took her hand and led her over to Pumpkin. Rhett was so calm and patient with her, telling her where to put her hands. He helped her get her foot into the stirrup (something he knew he'd have to adjust as soon as she was sitting) and helped to lift her into the saddle.

"Sit straight, Darlin'," he said as he took her foot from the stirrup and made them shorter. She did what she was told, sitting so pretty for him. Rhett held her leg as he placed the stirrup back on her foot and patted her knee.

He looked up at her. "Fuck, c'mere," he said and pulled her down to kiss him.

"Rhett!" She cried, slipping slightly. But he got her back into the saddle and passed her the reins to hold.

It was only her first time on a horse. Rhett led Pumpkin around the pasture as she sat there in the saddle. "You're doing so good, darlin'," he said to her. "My two girls together."

"Can we go faster?" She asked.

Rhett had her let go of the reins. He placed her hands on the pommel. "Just sit as best you can, Darlin'," he said and stepped back.

He waited until she gave him a walk before he began running. Well, it was more of a jog really, with Pumpkin trotting behind him. Periodically he looked back, make sure she was still with him and that she hadn't slipped from the saddle.

They slowed back to a walk and Rhett had her pick up the reins again. He had her walk back without his assistance, hands shoved into his pockets as Pumpkin followed her back to the barn.

As soon as they were there, Rhett helped her to jump down into his arms. "You did so good, pretty girl. A regular cowboy out there," he said, hands around her waist as he pulled her closer.

She swapped their hats, placing his Stetson on his head and his cap on hers. "You go take care of Pumpkin, and I'll get the cowboy pillows ready," she said, reaching back to unclasp her bra through her shirt.

(Welp now I wanna write a fic about Cowboy Pillows)

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range #outer range imagine #outer range x reader #outer range fic #outer range fanfiction #or #lewis pullman #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman x reader

134 notes · View notes

hypnoneghoul · 7 months ago

Text

Sundown: Chapter 4

WC: 2,6K

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, First Time, Bottom Swiss, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cuddles, Love Confessions

...and boobies

“Do you wanna go back to bed?” the barmaid asks and Swiss’ jaw quite literally drops at the intention glinting in her eyes. “You–you wanna…?” he stutters dumbly.

Notes: Thing are finally getting spicy! This chapter is another commission for my bestie @jazz-bazz <3

Read chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 4 under the cut or on AO3.

Three months in Sundown. The happiest and most peaceful Swiss has ever been and somehow it only keeps getting better.

His horse is finally well fed and properly taken care of, even he himself is eating well—he’s even got a little bit of a tummy already—he’s got friends, and a comfortable bed to sleep in, with the most precious little bed warmer included. He’s got his girl and Swiss still can’t believe it’s not all just a dream.

It’s just barely afternoon, the saloon is empty except for him and Mounty behind the bar. She’s just busying herself with wiping down some glasses and rearranging bottles on the rack—humming as she does so. Swiss, as usual, is being a creep sitting in one of the boots with his legs crossed and sipping a drink as she stares at her. Though, he supposes, he’s got the right to stare after those two months of actually being together.

The barmaid seems to get bored with the pointless tidying up of the already tidy bar and she wanders up to Swiss. He grins as she gets closer, hoping she’d sit next to him and let herself be pulled in by him, but instead she wipes that smile off of his face, turning it into a stunned expression as she pulls her skirt up to straddle his lap right there.

“H–hi,” Swiss stutters.

“Hi, cowboy,” Mounty replies before leaning down to kiss the shock off of his handsome face. He huffs into her mouth and regains a tiny bit of composure, just enough to kiss his girl back.

He has no idea what possessed her but he is not going to complain.

Swiss wraps his arms around her, hands wandering down to squeeze her ass through the long skirt now covering them both. She does the same to his biceps, digging her little claws into his light linen shirt.

Swiss is pretty sure Mounty sucks his brains out through his mouth, because he has absolutely no idea what’s even going on around them; all he can think of is his girl nestled right over his chubbing up cock and her soft lips glued to his.

Mounty latches her mouth onto his neck and all Swiss can do is whine as his cock kicks pathetically in his pants. He nearly forgets they’re still in the open, that someone can come in at any moment and even though everyone knows they’re together—and even though they are both clothed—Swiss doesn’t particularly feel the need to be walked in on by some random person. Or worse, Dewdrop.

“Do you wanna go back to bed?” the barmaid pulls back and asks and Swiss’ jaw quite literally drops at the intention glinting in her eyes.

“You–you–you wanna…?” he stutters dumbly at the idea alone. Mounty grinds down on him as she grins.

“Mhm.” She nods simply. “Think it’s time, don’t ya?”

“Uh-huh, y–yeah.” She giggles at him as she climbs off of his lap and Swiss could cry. Not for long, though, because in the next moment she’s grabbing his hand, pulling him up and dragging up the squeaky stairs to their bedroom.

The next thing he knows he’s being pushed onto the aforementioned bed and Mounty is crawling over him to kiss the breath straight out of his lungs again. She settles himself over his lap, but keeps hovering and not making contact besides their lips. Even though Swiss’ arms feel like they’re covered in lead he moves to place them on Mounty’s thighs and tries to pull her down.

“Nuh-uh, wait,” the barmaid tuts at Swiss before playfully snapping her teeth at the tip of his nose. “So eager, cowboy.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart, you–you’re–”

“Already got you so stupid? I didn’t think you’d go down so easily.” Mounty pulls her hands away from Swiss’ face and stands up. She digs under her skirt to fumble with her panties and the man’s eyes widen when they get thrown at him—he doesn't know if them landing on him was the barmaid’s intention. He fights the urge to grab them and bring closer to his face, instead staring at them laying on his chest in near horror as their owner continues getting rid of her clothes piece by piece.

Swiss is able to look away from the discarded underwear only when expanses of bare skin catch the corner of his eye and somehow they widen even more. Mounty’s left only in her skirt and a tiny piece of a flimsy fabric covering her tits. Swiss has never wanted to shove his face into anything more than those.

She smiles at him and takes a step in his direction to take care of his own clothes. The shirt he’s wearing is mostly unbuttoned and so loose it’s more off him than on him, but the pants are tight. They’re tenting anyway.

Mounty takes a moment to run her pretty hands over the bulge and pull a breathy grunt out of the man before she gets to freeing him from the leather prison. She pops the button and drags the zipper down with a smirk on her face. Swiss is out of his mind and his pants aren't even off yet.

But not for long, because—even though he’s not very helpful—Mounty gets them off of him soon, and it’s him who’s cock is being left on full display as the barmaid is still clothed where it matters. She wraps a hand around him, just to feel, and her skin is so soft Swiss chokes on his own spit trying to simply breathe.

“That good?” she asks and he nods so fast his ears start ringing. His jaw is still hanging open and he might just be drooling.

“Sweetheart, please, can I–can you…boobies?” Swiss begs dumbly and Mounty can’t help but snort. She’s really got him wrapped all around her little finger. She’s not cruel, though, so she pulls away to get rid of yet another piece of clothing. The barmaid lets it fall to the ground and that’s when Swiss really does start drooling—just a small trickle from the corner of his open mouth.

She chuckles at him and deems him messed up enough to finally get rid of her skirt, too. She’s not ashamed of what’s under it and she isn’t worried about Swiss thinking less of her in any way. He knows what she’s got—since the day they met—and they wouldn’t be where they are if he had any reservations. The light blue fabric pools around her ankles and she steps out of it with grace.

Swiss is pretty sure he’s dying. He doesn’t know where to look, because Mounty’s tits are the two most beautiful perky little things on Earth, but her cock is just gorgeous. It’s not big by any means—it’s rather small, actually—but Swiss wants to drool on it anyway. Which reminds him–

“Sweetheart, I don’t–don’t know how to say it so it’s not weird,” Swiss starts—sobering up a little bit—and it fades out into an awkward little chuckle as he scratches the back of his neck, “but I’ve never done anything with…with another dick.”

Mounty snorts loudly again–so loudly she embarasses herself a little and quickly puts a hand over her mouth. The man raises his eyebrows in offense, painfully turned on and equally enamored. “Sorry, sorry. Well, you have a dick, too, so you should know what feels good, yeah?”

“Uh-huh…I guess,” he mumbles.

“I can show you…more. But only if you want.”

“I want to…I want whatever you have to give me.” The barmaid walks back to him, steps in between his spread legs and kneels just on the very edge of the bed. Swiss’ eyes divert again when she leans over him and her tits bounce slightly right in front of his face. Seconds ago he was drooling, but now his mouth goes dry. “Please, sweetheart.”

Mounty smirks; Swiss may just regret saying that in the future. Today, though, it’s all for him. She will show him everything.

She moves to kiss him again and fully pull his shirt off so she can press their chests together. Truth be told, Swiss’ own boobs aren’t much smaller than hers, but neither of them seem to mind—or even notice. The man moans into the kiss and grabs at her bare waist, gasping at how soft her skin is all around. Maybe it’s just that he hasn’t touched anything so delicate in years, but Swiss knows he will never, ever, touch her without reverence.

Mounty drags her hand down the man’s torso—playing with the hair covering his chest and stomach on her way—and to his cock. She strokes him lightly a few times, gentle movement up and down, and just then she gathers some of the precum that’s beaded on his tip to smear it on her palm.

Swiss is lost in her mouth as the barmaid wraps the same hand around both of their shafts and squeezes to stroke them together. They moan in unison; although Swiss’ is way louder.

“Oh, fuck, oh, sweetheart, that’s–” he whines. Mounty understands

It's not what she has planned, though, and she doesn’t want to run her man down too fast, so she gives up on the slow petting soon enough.

“Do you want to top or try bottoming?” the barmaid asks him and even though the question makes sense, Swiss feels so high he can’t make any of it.

“Wh–what does that mean…exactly?” He’s flushed so deeply he feels like he’s on fire, and Mounty doesn’t tell him, but to her it makes him look impossibly more attractive. Or maybe it’s just her perversion.

Still, she explains. Rather bluntly. “Do you want me to put my dick in you, or do you want to put yours in me?”

“Oh, I–I think I…uhm…” Swiss stammers, suddenly flooded with performance anxiety.

“Hey. It’s okay to want it. To want to try.” Mounty both senses and sees his doubts and can easily imagine all the gears in his head working in overdrive. “It won’t make you any less of a man if you like it, too.”

“Uhm…o–okay.” The man has no idea how just a few of her words can be so soothing and reassuring—enough to instantly calm his mind. He lets out a shaky breath. “Okay, I want to try.”

“Tell me. Tell me you want me to fuck you.” The barmaid smiles brightly and Swiss’ stomach twists. He’s never been so fucking turned on.

“Please, sweetheart,” he mumbles. All quiet and weak. “Please, fuck me.”

Mounty nods and pulls back just to reach up and put three of her fingers into Swiss’ mouth. “Make ‘em wet, cowboy.”

Swiss wraps his tongue around the digits and tries to obey and not choke as Mounty shoves them down his throat to the third knuckle. He drools—all sloppy—and he supposes that was the barmaid’s plan.

She did want them wet and she does pull them out soon enough, satisfied. She uses her clean hand to hook one of Swiss’ muscled legs over her hip and give herself room to work, but before she does anything else she leans back down to kiss the man again.

“I’m gonna put my fingers into you. Is that okay, are you ready?” She asks—right into his mouth—and the sheer gentleness in her voice makes Swiss shake. He nods frantically, and reaches out for the barmaid’s free hand. She smiles as she takes it and squeezes it reassuringly before bringing the other hand down between Swiss’ legs.

Mounty keeps her eyes on the man’s face as she circles his rim with the tips of her finger before slowly and gently pushing her index finger in. Swiss breathes heavily, but there’s no discomfort showing on his face, so the barmaid thrusts it further in, until it’s buried in him up to the third knuckle. “You doin’ alright, cowboy?”

“Uh-huh,” Swiss murmurs, staring right into Mounty’s soul with wide eyes. She nods and pulls the finger back a fraction before pushing it back in. She doesn’t curl it yet, focusing on making the man used to the feeling of having something inside him and stretching him out gently.

Soon enough the barmaid deems him ready for another finger, then another, and Swiss all but blacks out as she pets inside him like that. It’s maddening and it’s so good he can’t even feel embarrassed about the fact that his girl has her pretty fingers up his ass. Especially when she–

“OH,” Swiss moans loudly and his whole body jerks as Mounty finally curls her digits and finds a spot inside him that makes him truly see stars—that he didn’t even know he had. The barmaid chuckles, clearly proud of herself, and pulls her fingers out. Swiss can’t help but notice how empty and cold he suddenly feels.

Not for long, though, because Mounty settles herself over him properly and the tip of her cock is kissing Swiss’ hole and he is shaking. “Please, sweetheart, gimme, I–I need you.”

Mounty kisses him when she pushes in and Swiss’ mouth falls open as he cries out in pleasure. She can’t help but beam at how it’s her who this big, strong man moans for, who he falls apart under, who he let show him the world.

The barmaid starts to thrust slowly—a gentle pull back and forth, but every move still knocks Swiss’ breath out. He’s absolutely out of his mind, he doubts he’s ever felt so good. He’s truly floating.

He wants to warn Mounty that it’s not going to be a long ride, but his tongue feels too heavy and too light in his mouth all at once. He holds her hand with an iron grip and he’s so lost in her beautiful eyes he’s not even looking at her tits swaying with her every thrust. Gut-punched noises keep spilling from his lips and when they get loud Mounty drinks them all up from the source.

Swiss gets close embarrassingly fast, but neither of them cares. Mounty isn’t far behind; drunk on all the sweet reactions she’s pulling from the man. She knows it’s time when he starts clenching around her uncontrollably and when his cock kicks where it’s trapped between them. The barmaid latches her mouth onto his own again and thrust that little bit harder. It doesn’t take much more for Swiss to go right over the edge.

“Fuck, oh, fuck, I love you, oh god, I love you, Mounty, I love you, I love you, I–” Swiss babbles deliriously and the barmaid freezes—for just a split second—at what’s falling from his lips. He cums, spilling pearly white between their stomachs and goes boneless right there under the other.

Mounty grunts as she pulls out and strokes herself once before she cums, too, staining the sheets between Swiss’ legs. The man heaves for breath with his eyes wide and pupils blown and Mounty smiles. She did him good.

She pulls the dirty sheets out from under Swiss and uses them to wipe down his stomach and herself before throwing it onto the floor. Mounty grabs a blanket and crawls up the bed to curl up against Swiss’ chest, covering them both with the soft fabric and it doesn’t take long for the man to come back down with her soft, warm skin plastered to his.

He wraps his arms around her to return her embrace and Swiss shudders.

Mounty has to ask, though, “Was that… You love me?”

“Shit…” Swiss curses as she reminds him of his babbling. A bolt of dread shoots through the barmaid at his reaction, but the man isn’t done. “I’m sorry, it ain’t how I wanted to…but I do. Yes, I love you, girl. I love you so much.”

“Good,” Mounty grins, “‘cause I love you, too, cowboy.”

Swiss sighs deeply with relief, before promptly blurting out, “Thank fuck.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #swissalps' sundown #hypnone's commissions

73 notes · View notes

saeransangel · 2 years ago

Text

Cinnamon Girl

REPOST BC COMMUNITY LABLE

Summary: You and Ellie are both so stupidly head over heels for one another but Ellie is convinced you're not into girls.

A/N: No bc me too. I always get hit with the "you don't look gay?" It's so sad bc no muscle mommies come up to me at the gym:( like bae I'm trying to look good for uuuu!!

CW: None, just swearing

WC: 1k (sorry this is kind of short omg)

It was an everyday struggle with you and Ellie. Having to pretend you were just friends. It was so painfully obvious to everyone around the two of you that you liked each other. Both of you were in denial.

"She likes dudes. I'm telling you." Ellie exclaims to Dina. "Look at her."

They both look in your direction, one of them with major heart eyes for you.

You worked in the stables taking care of the horses, so Ellie and Dina saw you almost everyday when they went out on their routes. Your long, pretty hair was tied into a braided ponytail that came over your shoulder. You had on a light pair of jeans and a purple tank top. Plump lips stretched into a smile talking to some guy you were helping saddle up.

"See." Ellie sighs. "She's a dude lover."

Dina laughed at her dramatics. "Ellie you never know. Maybe stop being a little bitch and ask her out. See what happens."

"And get totally shut down and embarrass myself? No thanks." Ellie huffed.

"Who's embarrassing themselves?" You butt in, walking over to the girls. That same gorgeous smile plastered across your face. Ellie nearly choked on her words as Dina let out a small laugh.

"Hey, Y/N/N." Dina smiles.

"How's Shimmer doing?" Ellie asks you, trying to change the conversation.

"Super good!" You exclaimed. "I made sure to give her all the best feed for ya and gave her a good brushing. Wanted her to be well rested and well fed for my-" You stopped yourself from saying 'my girl'.

Dina raised a suggestive eyebrow at your almost slip up. She glanced at Ellie who just let that comment go right over her head. Dina rolls her eyes and rests a hand on your shoulder and Ellie's. "You two are so stupid," She laughs. "It's cute." With that she walks away towards her horse's pen ready to wait for Ellie.

"What is she talking about?" You laughed nervously, scratching the back of your neck.

"Nothing. Just Dina being Dina." Ellie explains, still trying to play it cool.

It was hard to stay calm and collected when you were looking at her like that. Eyes looking up at her all pretty, slightly biting your bottom.

You were 100% admiring her. You had the biggest crush on Ellie and you tried to make it obvious but you were starting the think maybe she just didn't like you. Especially because she got so short and flustered when you came around.

"Well I hope it goes well out there today," You said as you began to walk away. Ellie groaned under her breath. She had made it awkward again. It had been weeks of this back or forth. She decided to take Dina's advice. If it made it more awkward between you two... oh well.

"Hey, wait up!" She called out to you. She caught up to you and grabbed your wrist, turning you around. You looked surprised at her sudden action.

"Yes..?" You questioned playfully. You noticed she still hadn't let go of your wrist. You looked down at her hand then back up at her.

She let go, flustered and tried to get her words together for what she was going to ask you.

"So," She began. "I was just wondering i-if-" She stopped herself. I must sound like an idiot right now was all she could think.

You laughed slightly. "Is this you not 'being a little bitch' and asking me out?"

Ellies eyes widened and she felt like her mouth went dry. You had 1000% overheard a part of the conversation with Dina about you. She decided to just take this as her in. She let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah I guess this is." She said, sounding a bit more confident.

"Well then congratulations, you just earned yourself a date with me." You winked. "Come find me when you get back. I'll be here."

Ellie's face flushed a bright red seeing you wink at her like that.

"You know I mean a date-date." She said cautiously. "Like not friends."

You gave her a playful side eye. "Of course I know it's a real date. I've been into you for months! Have you not noticed?" You asked.

"I just didn't think you were into girls." Ellie admitted, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck.

You lightly punched her shoulder. "Just because I look all girly doesn't mean I'm not into girls idiot."

Ellie starts laughing. "Hey, hey, okay! I'm sorry. Now I know. Super pretty girls can like other girls too."

You blushed at her compliment. You decided to be bold and press a soft kiss on her cheek. You felt her face heat up under your lips.

"Just get out of here before I change my mind, hot stuff." You joke and shove her towards Dina.

Ellie turns around with a new found pep in her step. She makes her way over to Dina who was leaning on the fence waiting. She had of course witnessed the entire thing.

"What did I fucking tell you!!" She exclaimed.

Ellie shushed her. "Dina she heard us talking earlier that's like the only reason why because you were too loud." She fake scolded.

"Well you're welcome." Dina remarks sarcastically. "And I can't believe you said she was a dude lover."

"Oh my God. Shut up." Ellie rolls her eyes as she begins to mount Shimmer.

Ellie was playing it cool on the outside, but all she could think about now was getting back to you as soon as she could for the date. Now she just needed to plan something for you guys. Maybe Dina could help with that too.

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader #ellie williams #lesbian #request #request open

409 notes · View notes

ohtobeleah · 1 year ago

Text

Before You & After You // Mickey Garcia

-> A Jekyll & Hyde Official Prologue

Summary: Fanboys got a crush on the knew Hard Deck Barkeep. But when he’s still getting over the traumatic loss of his wife, crushes and new beginnings aren’t always so ease.

Warnings: Car Accident resulting in death. Family tragedy. Mickey Garcia x F!reader. Mickey Garcia x Original Character.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Note: Day Twenty Two of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Greif. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

We cover up injuries with tape and gauze to protect the injury and prevent infection, to save ourselves from further suffering. The hard part though, that comes when you have to rip the bandage off.

Because that? Well—that can hurt like hell.

“So the word on the street is that Hyde has a crush on you.” People say that there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. For Mickey Garcia? He sat somewhere between anger and depression any given day of the week. “That’s gotta feel good.” But somewhere between the depression and acceptance, sat you. Hyde.

Jake Seresin had known you for the better half of his life. He was the boy next door, the slightly older but far less mature brother who’d walk you home from the bus stop just to trip you over to see you face plant into the dirt at the same time. So when you had reached out to see if there was any work going in his corner of the world, he jumped at the opportunity to get you behind the bar of the Hard Deck.

Penny had been looking for a new barkeep, and hell, you fit right in.

“Hyde’s pretty—“ Was all Mickey replied with as he fed Logan, his eight month old, a bottle. “And nice, Hyde’s nice.” Was all Jake got out of the clearly distracted Weapons System Officer.

“That’s all? Pretty and nice?” Jake stared down at the little boy who was clearly getting milk drunk faster than Jake was getting real drunk. “Dude—don’t you think—“

“Don’t start.” Mickey snapped harshly, it had been a day and a half and the last thing he needed was Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin pestering him about when he was gonna get back on the horse. “I said she’s nice, now drop it, Hangman.”

Before Jake could say another word, he caught the sight of you sauntering over with a pep in your step and a smile plastered on your face. You brought the sun into any dreary situation, you lit up rooms with your smile and that infectious laugh that sounded like the gates of heaven had opened up truly brightened any person's mood that was blessed enough to hear it.

“Can I get you flyboys anything else to drink while I collect empties?” You asked politely as you stood holding the empty round collection tray. “Another bottle for Logan Mick?”

“Oh he should be good, thanks Hyde.” Mickey changed up his attitude real quick while you were around and Jake wasn’t one to not take notice. “But if you don’t mind I’ll grab another beer for Hangman and just a ginger beer for me thanks.”

“Sure thing.” You hadn’t been in North Island for very long, but in the time you had been you’d come to develop a pretty sincere crush on the back seater with the black curls and the cute kid. “I’ll be right back.”

Jake wasn’t gonna say anything as you walked away but Mickey beat him to it regardless.

“She’s got nice eyes too.” He mumbled as he rocked Logan in his lap. “They’re beautiful, just like her smile.” Jake hadn’t ever heard Fanboy say anything along those lines about anyone ever. “She’s a good person—“ He added before he pressed his lips together in a fine line. “But I’m not ready to move on.”

“I get it.” Jake sighed, he sympathised, truly he did. But Jake Seresin was always in favour of playing the devil’s advocate. “But if there’s anyone who’s going to understand it’s Hyde, she’s good people man, start slow and maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

“Slow for me is just saying that another woman is beautiful out loud.” Mickey mumbled as he looked down at a now sleeping Logan, every bit the image of the mother he’d never truly know.

“Who’s beautiful?” You asked as he came back with Jake's beer and Mickey's ginger beer. “You got your eyes on someone, hey Fanboy?” It was an innocent dig but deep down you hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was talking about you.

“Oh—no I was just—“ Mickey didn’t know what to say or how to play it off. All Jake could do was watch, he could have thrown a lifeline out to the poor man but the sight of Mickey Garcia fumbling the bag was just too perfect. “I was just saying that I uh—you’re—” He couldn’t get himself to say it, and all you could do was simply try to hide the smirk that wanted to creep itself across your face. “I think that someone’s waiting for you to take their order.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide your disappointment but ultimately Jake could see right through your faked smile. “My bad, I'll get back to it then.” As you placed your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, Mickey watched with a painful twinge in his heart as you turned around and headed back towards the bar.

“Smooth romeo, hella smooth.” He teased as Jake took a sip from his beer. He wasn’t trying to push anything, he just thought you’d be good for Fanboy. He needed someone to be friendly with, someone who wasn’t navy to hang out with. Someone to help him heal from the trauma he’d been through.

Mickey though, he just took the opportunity to throw a single peanut Jake's way. He wasn’t ready to move on, he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. But as he watched you work and laugh with patrons who crowded the bar—he felt his heart flutter.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I’m driving!” Sophie Garcia was the light of Mickey's life and for the last nine months, she’d been pregnant with their first born. “God please let me drive, I’ve been doing nothing but feeding our son for the past two weeks and I need to feel like something more than a dairy cow.” The college sweethearts couldn’t have been any more in love.

“So a chauffeur is what you go for?” Mickey chuckled as he strapped little newborn Logan Reece Garcia into his car seat. “Honestly Soph, I don’t mind driving, but feel free if you wanna.”

He should have driven.

Mickey hadn’t even finished strapping their fresh out of the womb son in before Sophie was clipping her seatbelt in and turning on the engine of the BT-50 the pair had both gone in for earlier on in their marriage. Five years and going strong. “Alright, well that answers that, doesn’t it buddy.” Mickey cooed to his sleeping son before he made his way to the passenger seat, a seat he hadn’t been in since before Logan was born. “You remember how to drive?”

He should have driven.

“I gave birth, I didn't have brain surgery—“ Sophie laughed as she put the truck into gear and pulled out of the driveway, the two of them were going on their first family outing—to home depot for bubble wrap and boxes for the big move. “Yes I remember how to drive.”

“Okay good, I was just checking.” Mickey strapped himself in and checked his phone, the Garcia family were set to move from Maine to San Diego in just under a week and still not a single person in Mickey's new squad knew he was a new dad. Not Bob or Payback, Coyote or Hangman, Rooster or Phoenix. No one. Not a single one knew about his wife or kid and not a single one knew he was married to the love of his life. His best friend. The human embodiment of true beauty.

“When should we head around to your mums for dinner?” Mickey asked as Sophie drove the open road boarded by paddocks and empty fields. They lived right on the outskirts which meant farms and the quarry where local contractors got their materials from. Sophie never did like the quarry, it gave her the heebie jeebies every time she drove past, like it was calling to her. An unknown force pleading with her to come closer, to look over the edge.

“Maybe just after six when Logan goes down for a—shit!” In the blink of an eye Sophie was overcorrecting the steering wheel, Mickey only caught a glimpse of the stray horse that had shot out onto the road right in front of their truck as his wife swerved but managed soon thereafter to regain control. It was unlike any horses Mickey had seen around the farms that boarded his little slice of paradise. After having grown up in an apartment in Brooklyn he wanted his family to know fresh air and grass.

This horse was different though, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Holy shit—“ Sophie sighed as she kept both hands on the steering wheel and felt her heart hammer into her chest. “That was close.”

“Too close.” Mickey added as he turned around to check on little baby Logan. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“No no I’m okay.” Sophie was adamant about it, she wanted to contribute to the team. “It was just a freak occurrence, Amor.” As soon as Mickey turned around to face the road, Sophie’s eyes trailed from the road to her husband’s for five seconds, no more no less. “I love you.” She had control, she was totally in control of the car her family were driving in. Everything was totally fine.

He should have driven.

“I love you too—“ Mickey managed as he drank in the sight of his glowingly beautiful wife, the mother of his child. As his eyes trailed back to the road he saw it, the massive pothole that was just completely unavoidable. “Sophie!” Mickey gasped as she hit the hole head on and overturned on the steering as they ran off the road. The plastic water bottle that had been sitting stagnant in the centre console cup holders became dislodged when they slammed through the quarry fencing and rolled right under the breaks as Sophie tried to hit them. “Hit the breaks!” Mickey shouted as he held on for dear life as the quarry edge approached. Holy shit they were gonna go over.

He should have driven.

“I’m trying, I can't!” Sophie tried repeatedly as the truck approached the cliff face of the quarry ditch. “Oh my god oh my god!” As soon as Sophie was able to pull the handbrake in a last stitch effort to stop the truck her little family were in from careening over the edge of the quarry—the two front tires went over the edge as dirty scrapped along the bottom of the cab—stilling the vehicle on a near vertical tilt.

Airbags designed to protect the occupants deployed and in the process, broke Mickey's nose. He wasn’t prepared for the sheer force of the deployment before it smacked him right in the face.

“Oh god!” He groaned as he pushed the sea of deflated airbag down into his lap as the view before him came into clear sight. All he saw was the quarry as they teetered on the edge of the embankment. If the truck slid any further forward? They’d fall to their deaths.

“Holy shit, we’re okay.” Logan had never cried so hard before in his two weeks earthside, the tiny little human in the backseat was just sleeping soundly before all this. Now he was up and hungry and crying out for his mum. “We’re okay—“

“Mickey.” Sophie could barely speak as her hands clutched the steering wheel, her own airbag sat deflated in her lap as fear all but consumed her very soul. “Oh my god.” The car rocked slightly as the wind rushed past and Sophie let out a whimper in fear. “Help—“

“Okay, alright—we’re okay.” Mickey was trying to think about how to get out of this mess without making the car move. They couldn’t stay like this, not trapped on the edge of a ledge that would surely give way. “Can you open your door?” Mickey asked through a shaking voice as he unclipped his seatbelt and opened his car door very, very carefully. He needed to check on Logan, needed to get him out of harm's way. But as he popped the door handle the car slid slightly forward. “Fuck.” He could taste blood but that didn’t matter, what mattered was his family.

“Uh—“ Sophie shook her head as she tried to open her door. But it didn’t budge—the fencing post had jammed the aluminum framing in as they ran through the fence. “No, no I can’t open my door.” Logan wasn’t settling as his cries got louder and louder. “Mick, please you have to get Logan out of this truck, please—“

“Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise—just try and stay still alright.” Mickey was moving as carefully and as slowly as he could to get out of the truck. Once he was out, Sophie really began to cry as she covered her mouth with her hand and moved the deflated airbag to see her knees and thighs were cut up and jammed right up under the steering wheel column.

She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Hey—“ Mickey cooed as he slowly but surely opened the back door of the truck to unclip his son from his car seat. He was being as careful as he could be to not rock the truck. “Hey little guy you’re alright aren’t you buddy.” Logan was a mess, his little cheeks were red as red could be as his little lungs ignited with oxygen to fuel his cries. “I’ve got you, daddies got you, I’m here, you're alright.”

“Is he okay?” Sophie cried as she tried to remain perfectly still, only moving her hand to slowly press the window button. “Miguel is Logan alright?”

“He’s fine.” Mickey replied once he had the two week old out of his car seat and crying on his chest. “He’s fine, I’m gonna put him down by the tree and I’ll be right back okay.” Before Sophie could protest, Mickey was racing over towards the tree that wasn’t far away—he knew there was a rope in the back of the truck he could tie to tow bar off to if he couldn’t get Sophie out, that was plan B. Plan now was to get her out.

“Shhhh I’ve got you.” Mickey tried to soothe his son as he placed him down on the ground as gently as he could. He took the jumper off he’d been wearing to make a little makeshift bed before he placed Logan in the comfort of his father’s scent. “You’re okay, I’ll be right back.”

When Mickey returned he saw the full extent of his wife’s predicament and knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but they had to try.

“I’m never driving again.” Sophie tried to crack a joke but all Mickey did was try to open the door. It wouldn’t budge for love nor money. This was bad, very bad.

“Okay, I need you to try and move your legs.” He could see how jammed up in the column they truly were but it was one of the only hopes left. Maybe if Sophie could get herself unstuck Mickey could pull her through the window or help her out the passenger side. “Come on Amor, you have to try.”

“I can’t move them.” She sighed through a whimper as she tried to set herself free, the truck slipped a little further and Sophie froze in fear. She was looking death right in the eye now, it was a long way down to the bottom of the quarry. “Mickey—“

“I’m right here, I’m gonna get you out, I just need to buy us some time to figure out how.” He explained. “There’s a rope in the back, I’m gonna tie the truck off to the tree okay, I’ll be right back.”

Sophie Garcia knew she wasn’t getting out of the truck the longer she stared out into the abyss that was the quarry threatening to consume her. She could hear her baby boy crying out for her but there was nothing she could do but accept reality, accept the hand she’d been dealt. All she hoped in that very moment was that her college sweetheart, her best friend and father of her very first and only child would find someone who could love him like she did, or possibly more. She wanted him to be loved forever because Mickey deserved all the love in the world and more. He didn’t deserve this, to lose the love of his life.

And perhaps Sophie wasn’t the love of Mickey's life, perhaps she was just his first, maybe there was some greater love waiting for him around the corner. It brought her a calming sort of comfort as she sat there teetering on the edge of nothingness, trapped in the wreck of her actions. She should have been paying attention.

Mickey grabbed the rope from the back of the truck and tied it around the back of the tow bar, making sure it was secure before he took off running right towards the tall tree that he knew was strong enough to hold the weight of his BT-50.

But when he felt himself stopping, being pulled back by gravity as he fell to his arse, Mickey's heart sank into the very pit of his stomach.

“No—oh god no no no no!!” The rope wasn’t long enough. The rope wasn’t fucking long enough. “Oh god no, please no.”

Mickey felt the truck shift forward as he let go of the rope and raced back to his wife’s side. There wasn’t enough time, he needed more time to get her out, to think, to understand why this was happening. But there wasn’t any time.

“I love you so much.” Sophie cried as Mickey reached in to try and free her legs from being trapped up under the steering wheel column but he was doing more damage than good. “So much Mickey.”

“I need you to pull your legs out right now!” At this point Mickey was a wreck, he didn’t know what else to do. “Pull your damn legs Sophie!!” Her bottom lip quivered as the truck shifted forward again, it was tipping. It was about to go. “NNOOOOOO!!” Mickey shouted as he held onto the door and tried to pull it open. He couldn't do anything else to help his wife.

“Please look after Logan for me—take care of him always.” Sophie cried as Mickey reached in to try one more time to free her. “I love you.” Was the last thing she ever said before Mickey felt two hands on his body before he was being shoved away. The second he fell back onto the ground the truck his wife was still trapped inside of went careening over the edge of the quarry.

“NOOOO!” It felt like time stood still as Mickey watched the love of his life fall to her death over the edge of the quarry cliff face. He laid on his stomach and peered over to see the crumbled aluminum at the bottom—all twisted and broken and shattered. “NNOOOO!”

Logan continued crying even when Mickey had found the courage to pick himself and his son up off the ground to try and find a way down. He probably circled that particular part of the quarry for the better half of half an hour before the next car came down the road that was barely driven on. They saw Mickey walking along the edge and stopped when they saw the skid marks kicked up in the grass but no car in sight.

“You alright there bud?” An older looking gentleman asked as Mickey turned around to face him. Only then did he let himself crumble to his knees when reality set in. He’d just lost the love of his life.

“My wife and I were in an accident—I think, I think she’s—she’s trapped down in the quarry.” He cried out through painful tears. Mickey didn’t have the courage to say she was dead. “Please help me.”

“I’ll call an ambulance.” The older gentleman nodded as Mickey sat with his now soothing son on the ground, rocking back and forth mumbling to himself.

“I should have driven, I should have driven, I should have just driven.”

Until he saw the same white horse, staring at him from across the broken fence he and Sophie had smashed through. Just watching the man who lost it all in the blink of an eye unravel in the mid afternoon glow.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Are you heading out for the night, Fanboy?” Mickey was one of the last patrons left in the Hard Deck, but he hadn’t taken any notice of the time that had passed as he thought back to the day he lost his wife. The damned day.

“Uh—“ He was going to say yes, going to head out and make sure Logan got to bed because it was way past his bedtime. But he was sleeping soundly in his arms as Mickey approached the bar. “No actually I was uh—I was gonna see if you needed a ride home actually.” It was the boldest Mickey had been since he met you and had started to develop some sort of feeling or two. “Or if you might just want the company while you shut up shop.”

It hurts to tear that bandage off, we don’t wanna see what’s underneath. But maybe it’s not the fear of the pain that holds us back, but maybe it’s the fact we’re afraid to see if the wound underneath is still open.

“I’d love a ride home.” You smiled softly with a nod as you felt the heat in your cheeks rise. “And the company seems pretty good to Flyboy.”

Or if it might actually be healing.

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~**

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #jekyll & hyde // mickey garcia #mickey garcia angst #mickey garcia whump #mickey garcia x reader #tw: car accident

144 notes · View notes

calisources · 9 months ago

Text

𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍, 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄.

All these quotes are taken from many materials from George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, from members of House Targaryen. You can change location, names and pronouns as you see fit. Some of these are little spicy as well might mention the typical topics of the book like inc*st.

I mounted him and took him for a ride, and I mean to do the same tonight. I love to ride.

Red maidens, the two of us, but now we've both been mounted.

You were made for battles, and I was made for this.

As soon as I am well, let's make another. I want to give you twenty sons. An army of your own!

But you are far braver than me. I would sooner fight a dozen battles than do what you've just done.

He's either brave or mad, that one.

You will be a great king, even greater than your father.

A ruler needs a good head and a true heart. A cock is not essential.

If your Grace truly believes that women lack the wit to rule, plainly you have no further need of me.

My uncle Maegor was cruel, but age is crueler.

No mother should ever have to burn her child.

I am old as well, but I am still younger than you.

She was his most trusted counselor and his right hand.

Dark Sister was made for nobler tasks than slaughtering sheep. She has a thirst for blood.

The war will end when the heads of the traitors are mounted on spikes above the King's Gate, and not before

Prince Daemon had been the wonder and the terror of his age.

The archmaesters call you the Conciliator, I have heard. It is time that you conciliated.

I have my own kingdom here.

Such a fierce little thing she is, they say, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.

She has no interest in kissing games, nor boys. She plays with them as she used to play with her puppies.

I have seen the way she preens and prances around Baelon. That is the husband she desires, and not for love of him.

She wants to be the queen.

How can he rule the Seven Kingdoms when he cannot rule his brother?

Your guards are slow and lazy.

If any man questions my son's right to the Iron Throne, let him prove his claim with his body.

When the sun sets, your line shall end.

A king should never sit easy.

Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice.

Do you think we would name him Aegon the Conqueror today if he had not had dragons?

But we will come again, Princess, and the next time we shall come with fire and blood.

I fed my last husband to my dragon. If you make me take another, I may eat him myself.

We can go back to the ends of the earth together. But I'll get there first, as I'll be flying.

Brother, if it please you, we have brought your new queen.

The sound of the queen's laughter was like music to this fool, so sweet that even the king was known to smile.

The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeron's bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn.

Daemon Blackfyre loved the first Daenerys, and rose in rebellion when denied her.

A hundred years ago, Daenerys Targaryen came to Dorne to make a peace. Now another comes to make a war.

Too many dragons are as dangerous as too few.

I have done my duty by you, and given you an heir.

When Viserys sold their mother's crown, the last joy had gone from him, leaving only rage.

Whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor in the night.

The queen your mother was always mindful of her duty.

I want to be with you, I want to sail the seas and have adventures.

Every knight needs a squire. You look as though you need one more than most.

omeday the dragons will return. My brother Daeron's dreamed of it, and King Aerys read it in a prophecy.

If you cannot manage a horse, fetch me some wine and a pretty wench.

Why did you throw your life away? For this whore? She's scarcely worth it. A traitor. The dragon ought never lose.

She bathes in blood to keep her beauty.

You've known queens and princesses. Did they dance with demons and practice the black arts?

Duels were fought over the right to sit beside her.

She gave him her bed, but never her hand. It amused her more to make him jealous.

I want him dead, the traitor. I want his head, you'll bring me his head, or you'll burn with all the rest. All the traitors.

But a man does not marry his heir to his servant's daughter.

Aerys was mad, the whole realm knew it.

There have always been Targaryens who dreamed of things to come, since long before the Conquest.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt

39 notes · View notes

eirinstiva · 4 months ago

Text

Recursus et tactus

Hullo-ullo-ullo! Last night I received a letter from Jeeves, something that really surprises me. The fact that the story is tittled "Bertie Changes his Mind" surprises me more. Let's see what Jeeves wrote:

It has happened so frequently in the past few years that young fellows starting in my profession have come to me for a word of advice, that I’ve found it convenient now to condense my system into a brief formula. “Resource and Tact”⁠—that is my motto.

If someday Jeeves receives a peerage and needs a coat of arms, this should be his motto. It resumes Jeeves philosophy and is short enough to be written on a coat.

Bertie is sick and bored, poor baby~

“Every night, dash it all,” proceeded Mr. Wooster morosely, “you come in at exactly the same old time with the same old tray and put it on the same old table. I’m fed up, I tell you. It’s the bally monotony of it that makes it all seem so frightfully bally.”

As Shakira said "No fue culpa tuya, ni tampoco mía. Fue culpa de la monotonía".

It's interesting to see how Jeeves is afraid of Bertie getting married. What does he fear? To be separated of Wooster, and he knows that's common to get rid of the vallet.

Something to look after, if you know what I mean. Jeeves, I wish I had a daughter. I wonder what the procedure is?” “Marriage is, I believe, considered the preliminary step, sir.”

I agree with Jeeves on this case. Bertie needs a bit of sea breeze and extra time to think about parenthood.

Employers are like horses. They require managing. Some gentlemen’s personal gentlemen have the knack of managing them, some have not. I, I am happy to say, have no cause for complaint.

Peggy Mainwaring is a good chance for Bertie to know more about girls. probably he studied in an all-boys school so women and girls are a mystery to him. Yes, I know Bertie has a sister and three nieces but they are so far away that probably he barely meets them.

“Well, you are a sportsman!” observed the young person, with great enthusiasm. And she proceeded to kiss me⁠—in connection with which I have only to say that I was sorry she had just been devouring some sticky species of sweetmeat.

“He told me nothing about himself, except that he was a friend of Professor Mainwaring.” “He did not inform you, then, that he was the Mr. Wooster?” “The Mr. Wooster?” “Bertram Wooster, madam.”

I know that Bertram Wooster is a fancy name but the way Jeeves use that on their favour is priceless.

So that's how Jeeves and Wooster ended at a girl's school. As someboy who studied in that type of school I suggest you to run away as fast as you can. Trust me, I'm a scientist.

I drove round to the stables and halted the car in the yard. As I got out, I looked at it somewhat intently. It was a good car, and appeared to be in excellent condition, but somehow I seemed to feel that something was going to go wrong with it⁠—something pretty serious⁠—something that wouldn’t be able to be put right again for at least a couple of hours. One gets these presentiments.

(heavy breathing)

#letters regarding jeeves #jeeves and wooster #bertie changes his mind #MIND #bertram wooster #reginald jeeves #bertie wooster #letters in the underground

16 notes · View notes

dwobbitfromtheshire · 7 months ago

Text

Whatever It Takes

A/N: It was longer than I thought it would be because I tried to squeeze everyone in and still call it a one-shot. I didn't get Will in as much as I would have liked to. It was a challenge, especially since it was supposed to be much shorter than this. I let my fingers do the walking.

Dustin and Jonathan were trapped. They were separated from the others, and a hoard of demodogs surrounded them. They were also separated from Steve, but there was a way out for him.

"RUN, STEVE! YOU HAVE TO RUN!" Dustin screamed.

"STEEEEVE, RUN!" Jonathan yelled.

"NO, NOT WITHOUT YOU!" Steve yelled.

He raised his bat and swung, but not before a demogorgon took a swipe at his leg. Steve landed on his back, the demogorgon taking the opportunity to crawl on top of him. Jonathan and Dustin froze, unable to get to them. Suddenly, another demogorgon came charging through to pull the other demogorgon off of Steve. Someone was riding on top of it, clinging on to its neck.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" A feminine voice screamed.

Dustin, Jonathan, and Steve rolled away as she threw a grenade amongst the hoard. There was a loud explosion as the grenade went off. The woman threw another, lighting the hoard on fire. The demogorgons howled in pain, and what was left of them ran off to lick their wounds. Dustin and Jonathan ran to Steve’s side as the woman slid off the demogorgon's back.

"Vickie?" Steve asked in surprise.

"Hey, Steve! Are you okay?" Vickie asked.

"Well, I could be better. Did you make friends with a demogorgon? I'm not surprised. You could make friends with anyone," Steve said.

"Aw, thanks, Steve. . .wait, demogorgons. . . Like from D&D?" Vickie asked.

"That's just what we've been calling them. . .Do you know D&D?" Dustin asked.

"My cousins play," Vickie said, and then she stroked the demogorgon under its chin. "I found this guy early on. I threw him what I had in my pocket because I panicked. It was a Three Musketeers bar. When another demogorgon tried to attack me, this guy saved my life. I've been trying to get to the hospital to get to my dad, I crashed my car, and that's when the whole thing happened. I couldn't have gotten this far without him."

"Oh my god!" Steve exclaimed.

"Dart?" Dustin gasped.

The demogorgon turned toward Dustin before leaping at him, knocking him to the ground. He opened his mouth and unrolled its long tongue. Dart began to lick Dustin's face like he was a dog, and Dustin started giggling madly.

"He has a name?" Vickie asked.

"I thought he was dead! Dart, buddy!" Dustin squealed and hugged him.

"Is it like D'Artagnan from the Three Musketeers?" Vickie asked.

"Yes! I fed the candy to him when he was a baby," Dustin smiled.

"So, I'm guessing you've all been through something like this before. . .except on a much smaller scale?" Vickie asked.

"Yeah, it's a long story, and I would tell you, but I'm kind of bleeding out here," Steve said.

"Shit, sorry, baby," Jonathan said.

He he took off his outer shirt and wrapped it around Steve’s leg.

"How are we going to carry him?" Dustin asked.

"Oh! Watch this!" Vickie exclaimed and pulled out the remains of a chocolate bar. "Dart! Sit!"

Dart sat, and Vickie threw it. He caught it easily and swallowed it. Dustin gaped at her.

"How?"

"I don't know, he's pretty smart. Picked it up pretty quickly. It's easier now that I know his name," she said. "Anyway, put Steve on his back."

Jonathan and Dustin helped Steve onto Dart's back.

"All fours, Dart," Vickie said. "All fours."

Dart went down to all four limbs so that way Steve was riding him like a horse.

"Okay, well, I think we lost the others somewhere up ahead. Let's go find them," Jonathan said.

He kept a hand on Steve’s lower back as they walked. Dustin talked with Vickie for a while before walking around to walk by Jonathan. Every so often, Dustin would look at him, open his mouth, and then close it again.

"You've got something you want to say, Henderson?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, are we going to talk about the fact that Jonathan called you baby?" Dustin asked.

Steve and Jonathan shared a look before opening their mouths to say something.

"JONATHAN!" Will's voice called out.

Jonathan's head snapped up. His brother and sister were running towards him. He let go of Steve and met his siblings halfway. They were soon joined by Hopper and Joyce. Argyle, Nancy, Robin, and Mike followed after them.

"Jonathan, why is Steve on a demogorgon?" Will asked.

"His leg got hurt," Jonathan said.

"That really didn't explain anything, honey," Joyce said.

"Vickie?" Robin asked.

"Robin?!" Vickie exclaimed.

They ran towards each other before skidding to a stop. They clearly wanted to hug each other but they were still pretty awkward. Finally, Vickie just threw her arms around her neck, hugging Robin tightly. She pulled back but still held onto her and began to ramble on about what happened.

". . .and can you believe it? They know Dart, which is incredible," Vickie said with a grin as Robin stared at her in amazement.

"Oh, I wish I could have seen you ride in on a fucking demogorgon," Robin said.

"Where did you get the grenades?" Hopper asked.

"They were just lying around in the police station. I was on my way to the hospital because my dad works there, and the station was right there - oh my God, am I going to get arrested for stealing them and setting them off?" Vickie asked.

"Relax, kid, you did good," Hopper laughed.

"Holy shit, weren't you dead?" Vickie asked. "I really thought it was a rumor that you were alive. People kept saying they saw you around town but honest to God, I thought they were just shitting me."

"Oh my God, stop being cute!" Robin exclaimed and slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Only if you stop first," Vickie replied, flashing her dimples at her.

"Well, let's get Steve to the hospital," Joyce said, smiling.

"We lost track of Creel anyway," Hopper said.

"Besides, we need to check in on Lucas and Max," Dustin said.

"Does El - sorry, Jane, have a pet demobat on her shoulder?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, apparently, she found it. It was a lone one who tore itself free from the pack," Will said.

"Cool, I have a demogorgon, and you have a demobat. Maybe after this, we set up a little playdate," Dustin said.

Jane grinned as she cooed at the demobat on her shoulder.

"He would like that," Jane said.

"Maybe after this, we trade them in for normal pets," Hopper replied.

"I am not normal. You and Joyce kept me," Jane said.

"You're not a pet, Jane, you're our daughter!" Hopper exclaimed. "It's different!"

"How?" She asked as she inflated her big brown eyes.

Hopper stared her down, his jaw clenching. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine! Fine! I am not cleaning up after them and Dustin, you're explaining it to your mother," Hopper said.

"Dart, buddy, we're going to have to keep the whole killing Mews things to ourselves," Dustin said, and Dart tilted his head to the side. "Yeah, I think he understands. I'm afraid you're also going to have to be an outside demogorgon. You're a little bit too big for the house now. Also, no eating anymore cats."

Nancy rushed to Steve’s side as they started walking towards the hospital. Meanwhile, Jonathan moved to hug Argyle and started to talk with him. Every so often, he would look back at Steve and Nancy. Vickie and Robin walked together, their hands brushing against each other's slightly.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked.

"I'm fine. I can still move my leg, so I guess that's something. It hurts like hell, though," Steve said.

"You have to stop getting hurt," Nancy demanded.

"Okay," Steve said with a goofy grin.

"What am I going to do with you?" Nancy asked with a smile.

"Protect me?" He asked softly, batting his eyelashes at her.

"Done," Nancy said, smirking. "That's a tough job, though."

"Hey, Nancy," Dustin spoke up. "Do you know why Jonathan would call Steve - "

"We can talk about that later," Steve said, his cheeks red.

"What?" Nancy asked in confusion. "Did Jonathan call you something? I thought you guys were getting along."

"We are. . .it's nothing bad, I promise. At least I don't think it is," Steve said and sighed. "Starting to get a little woozy."

He nearly fell backward until Nancy climbed up on the demogorgon behind Steve. The monster was pretty fucking sturdy and didn't flinch at all when another person climbed on. She wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist, holding him up. Jonathan and Argyle moved to walk beside Dart. Vickie and Robin moved to the other side with Dustin. The others continued walking in front of them. Mike, Jane, and Will seemed to be in the middle of a rather serious discussion. Every so often, the demobat squawked as though it were trying to join in.

"I like your friend, Robin," Dustin spoke up. "And Dart seems to like her. You could come over to visit whenever you like."

"That would be great!" Vickie grinned.

"Ooh, we could share custody!" Dustin exclaimed.

"That's even better!" Vickie squealed. "My dad and I have been wanting to get a pet. It hasn't been the same since mom left. Robin, Dustin is so sweet!"

"Yeah, he's like the little brother I never wanted, and somehow he convinced me otherwise," Robin said, smiling fondly at the both of them.

"Thank you, by the way, for saving them," Nancy said. "The three of them mean a lot to me. . .to all of us. You're officially my new best friend."

"Really?" Vickie asked. "I don't really have a whole lot of friends. They think it's annoying that I talk a lot."

"Well, stick with us, my dude! We love that shit around here!" Argyle grinned. "Welcome to the club! I'm kind of hoping the parties are better than this."

Vickie giggled.

"You're definitely going to fit right in, Vickie," Nancy said in agreement.

"You're not the only new one here, though. I joined only months ago," Argyle said softly. "I think if we team up, we can get through this together."

Vickie laughed again as Argyle raised his hand for a high five. She slapped his hand with hers, letting him pull her into a hug. They all fell into silence, though, as they walked towards the hospital. Dart had found a dead deer on the way there, so they all had to stop and wait for him to eat it. It was disgusting, but at least Dart wasn't trying to eat any of them. The demogorgon burped loudly, and they continued moving. When they finally made it, a man who looked a lot like Vickie was helping another doctor bring a patient inside while cops and soldiers guarded the hospital. There was no doubt that this man was Vickie's father with his red hair, his long face, and his dimples. When he spotted Vickie, he glanced at the other doctor who motioned for him to go.

"Vickie?!" He sobbed.

"DADDY!"

She ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck tightly, letting him lift her off the ground.

"Oh, baby, thank God, you're safe. I was a complete mess. I had no idea if you were okay or if you were lying somewhere bleeding out," he cried.

"It's okay, Dart saved me!" She exclaimed cheerfully.

"Dart?"

Vickie pointed at Dart, and Steve waved awkwardly at him.

"Remember how you said we could get a pet?" Vickie asked.

"I meant like a german shepherd or something," he said as the blood faded from his cheeks, his eyes wide.

"All these guys got me here, too," Vickie said.

"Chief Hopper? I don't know if you remember me, but I'm - "

"Matthew Fisher, the only doctor I like," he replied. "Anyway, Steve here needs help."

Matthew immediately got Steve off the demogorgon with Hopper's help, and they carried him inside. Nancy slid off the demogorgon and followed them inside. Dart continued walking down on all fours through the hospital doors and crawled into the waiting room with the remaining members. Joyce and Hopper went with Mike, Jane, and Will to see Max. Nancy and Jonathan followed the doctors, leading Steve away. Meanwhile, Robin looked torn between staying with Vickie or going with Steve.

"It's okay if you want to go with your best friend. I'll be okay with Dustin and Argyle," Vickie said.

"Thank you!" Robin said, kissing her before taking off.

"Oh!" Dustin said.

A moment later, Robin came skidding back into the living room, her eyes wide.

"Oh, God, I just kissed you in front of everyone for the first time!" Robin exclaimed.

"Well, not everyone," Dustin said. "By the way, totally cool with it."

"It's okay, I liked it. Thank you! We should definitely do it again," Vickie smiled.

"You're more than welcome!" Robin exclaimed as she ran out again. "Steve! I'm coming, babe!"

Steve pulled through his surgery while everyone talked about their next plan of attack. Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin were the first ones in his room when the doctors brought him out.

"Thank God, you're alright," Nancy said.

"You have to stop getting hurt, man," Jonathan said, looking relieved at sight of him.

"Yeah, Nancy told me that, too," Steve said sleepily. "But you do know what we're in the middle of, right? Plus, I think it is just attracted to me like a goddamn magnet."

"Well, you are very attractive," Jonathan said with a sigh, and Robin raised an eyebrow.

"Very magnetic," Nancy agreed.

Steve gave them a goofy grin.

"Good enough to eat?" He asked.

"Definitely," Nancy said.

"You know what? I'm going to leave you three alone. See what Vickie is up to," Robin said. "By the way, I accidentally kissed her, if you care. Toodles!"

"Wait, no, I want to hear about that!" Steve exclaimed.

"You've got two people you really need to talk to!" She yelled back.

"I want details!"

"Right back at ya!"

"Great, I've been dying to know what Jonathan called you," Nancy said. "He hasn't told me a damn thing."

"I called him baby," Jonathan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I liked it," Steve said softly.

"You did?" Jonathan asked.

"When you guys were in California, I told Nancy that we all should hang out. . .you, me, Nancy. . .and then I added Robin in because I panicked a little because I've been afraid to say it out loud. . .how much you mean to me," Steve said softly.

"You were asking if Jonathan and I wanted to go on a date with you?" Nancy asked, somehow making her eyes bigger.

"Yeah," Steve said, swallowing loudly.

"Um, well, you know the last few months back when we were in California, and you started calling to check on Will, and we've been talking. . ."

"Okay, that's brand new information," Nancy said.

"Shit, sorry, Nancy, I just didn't tell you because I thought it would be weird that your current boyfriend was developing feelings for your ex-boyfriend," Jonathan said. "And we have been talking since we came back months ago. I just didn't know what to make of it, especially since we were trying to deal with all of this."

"I mean, it's a little weird but a good kind of weird," Nancy said. "It makes things so much easier now. I want to be with both of you. So, yeah, I think we should definitely all hang out after this. . . Minus Robin."

"That work for you too, baby?" Steve asked Jonathan, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Definitely, baby."

When Jane managed to find Henry again, they decided that the kids should stay here this time except for Jane. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will hadn't been too pleased about that. Dustin hadn't been too pleased about them bringing Dart along with them either, but Vickie promised to look out for him. Nancy wasn't going to stay behind while they tried to bring her sister home without her. Robin would be staying behind with Argyle to look after the others. Vickie kissed her, not caring that everyone had been watching. It had soothed some of Robin's worries. . . Briefly. The sight of it caused Nancy and Jonathan to slip back into Steve’s room again.

"Try not to get hurt again," Nancy said softly and kissed him.

She moved aside for Jonathan. He cupped Steve’s face and kissed him deeply.

"Good luck," Steve said softly.

Jane, Joyce, Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy, Vickie, and Dart all set off toward Hawkins lab before Matthew could find out that his daughter had volunteered for a dangerous mission. They all set out in a borrowed vehicle this time, a military vehicle that could easily drive over the vines. Vickie road beside them on Dart, with Nancy and her gun behind her. More exposure to the demogorgon helped a lot, Nancy had said. Plus, they looked completely badass, and Dart was really fast. They made it to the lab, and everyone stared at it for a minute. Jane stared at it the longest. . .this was where it started for her. . .where it ended for the other kids and Bob. Nancy slipped off Dart and walked beside them as they entered the building. Hopefully, it would be the last time anyone entered here. After this, it was going to be burned to the ground.

The group followed Jane as she used her senses. Maybe this was a trap, but they had to try, right? Especially if it saved little Holly Wheeler and the entire town. The world, actually. They followed Jane to the first place the gate had been opened and found Henry waiting for them. Vines were everywhere and up on the wall with a vine down her throat was Holly Wheeler. He had plans for her to raise her as his own, to mold her into his sidekick like he wanted Jane to be. Messing with her boyfriend's family was his own sweet revenge and also a way to lure Jane out to convince her to join him still. The fight broke out, Jane not even waiting for him to finish his villain monologue.

Demogorgons and demobat came out to defend Henry. Dart threw himself into the action immediately while everyone else joined in with their guns and their homemade flamethrowers. The fight was quickly over, though, when Henry brought out his puppets. Chrissy sauntered out first, her eyes a bright red. Fred and Patrick also came in, their eyes just as red. He had faked their deaths and their bodies. The proof was right there before them all. He used their grief and their trauma to make himself more powerful. He had used Nancy's grief for Fred, Eddie's trauma over Chrissy, and Jason's need to be the hero. . .no matter what. He played them all like they were puppets.

With his power, he slammed everyone into a wall, letting the vines wrap around them. Dart lay unconscious on the ground. Henry squeezed their throats with vines as they struggled against them. Suddenly, a black figure flew into the room like a bullet and knocked into Henry, causing the veins to loosen. It stood in front of him, its wings spread wide. The wings lowered, revealing the furious gray face of Eddie Munson.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at the hospital," Henry growled.

"I'm no longer your puppet, Henry. You can't control me anymore," Eddie said. "My whole life, people have been trying to put into a fucking box and there have been many times where I almost gave in but no, I'm not going let you pull my fucking strings. Let them go!"

"Pretty words, but that's all they are," Henry said.

"Chrissy? Chrissy, wake up!" Eddie yelled.

"She can't hear you," Henry said.

"You rely too much on your powers, Henry. Can you even take me in a physical fight?" Eddie asked as he released his claws. "Your biggest mistake was trying to send me to kill Dustin. That kid keeps me fighting."

Eddie threw himself at Henry and stabbed him in the side with his claws. Henry howled in pain. He stabbed Eddie in the side in retaliation. This time, it was Eddie who was yelling pain. While Henry and Eddie were rolling around the ground, Jane managed to free herself from the vines and approached Henry from behind. He roared, whirled around, and slammed his claws into Jane's stomach. Hopper and Joyce yelled as they fought against their bindings. They were both crying, as was Nancy and Jonathan. He was fighting furiously like his parents as the monster cradled his sister in his arms. Vickie was crying, too, and fighting against the vines.

"NO!" Henry yelled.

Eddie growled as he clutched his bleeding sides. He moved to stand up, but he froze when someone else walked into the room. A short young woman with wild dark and purple hair. She was dressed all in black, and her eyes were smeared with black eyeshadow. Kali Prasad, Jane's sister.

"I wasn't sure if I could get into your head, but it turns out it was quite easy. I just had to get through to your victims. Chrissy helped. She was already awake and fighting to break through. She held the door open for me," Kali said.

"I'm wide awake," Chrissy's voice broke through. "And pissed as hell."

She held out her hand and raised it at Henry. He started to rise in the air. Fred and Patrick turned on him to help Chrissy, raising their hands in the air.

"What is this?" Henry growled.

"They're using you just like you used them. Now, you're their puppet, Henry," Kali said.

Jane's body disappeared, shimmering out of existence. It had been an illusion. The real Jane removed herself from the vines as well as the others, and she raised her hand up at Henry. She screamed as she used all of her power against, welcoming the others' help. They tore him apart, shredding him completely until there was nothing left. . .absolutely nothing. There was no gate that opened up. There was no way he could disappear into another dimension. Henry Creel was dead. Fred, Chrissy, and Patrick plopped on the ground, their noses bleeding heavily.

"I wasn't sure you got my message," Jane grinned.

"My sister needed my help," Kali said. "Of course, I got it."

"Holly!" Nancy shrieked.

Jonathan and Vickie rushed over to help Nancy pull Holly from the wall. Nancy pulled the tube like thing out of her throat and started doing chest compressions. Holly woke up with a gasp, and Nancy burst into tears.

"Nancy?" Holly asked.

"I'm here," Nancy sobbed.

Holly hugged her as tightly as she could, and Nancy picked her up in her arms, squeezing her back.

"Do we get to keep these powers?" Fred asked.

"Yes, but we need to close the gates and send the others back through it. It might take all of it," Jane said.

"Whatever it takes," Patrick said.

They drove the others back to the hospital with Nancy riding in the car this time with Holly secured in her arms. Chrissy had jumped into Eddie's arms immediately when he offered her a ride, so he flew above them with Chrissy hanging on tightly. Kali used her van to bring the others. When they pulled up to the hospital, Dustin had run out immediately and threw his arms around Eddie, sobbing. Ted and Karen had arrived at the hospital shortly before them. They had been waiting rather impatiently inside. When Nancy carried her inside, they swarmed her immediately and hugged both Nancy and Holly.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Holly exclaimed.

Ted and Karen were both crying as they hugged their daughters tightly. Ted had to take his glasses off he was crying so hard. Mike had skidded down the hall, running at break neck speed as he flew into them. They stumbled, chuckling, as Karen hugged their son.

"VICTORIA!" Matthew yelled.

"Oh, shit, he full named me," Vickie whispered. "Daddy, I can explain - "

Matthew didn't say anything, just sighed and hugged her tightly again. Jane, Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, Eddie, Kali, and Hopper didn't stay there long. They left as soon as everyone else was dropped off and secured. They were going to close the gate once and for all. They also had to make sure that everyone was prepared for another earthquake. Joyce hugged her daughter tightly before sending her off with her father, promising her that she would look over Max and the others. Will and Jonathan had hugged her tightly before she had left as well. Dart waited with Dustin and El's demobat. She had named it Michael, much to Mike's displeasure, but Will had agreed that it was a lovely name. Meanwhile, Argyle had to be stopped by Jonathan from following Kali out the door. He had been mesmerized, and judging by the blush on Kali's cheeks, she didn't hate the attention.

Steve had requested a room next to Max's, so now when people weren't in Max's room, they were in his or filtering out in the hallway. Lucas hadn't left Max's side, and his parents hadn't left his. Erica was guarding Max just as much as Lucas was. Mostly, from the demogorgons but Jason's goons were on the loose and out for their blood. They weren't stupid enough to attack them in the hospital. According to Erica, that was a disappointment now that they had a demogorgon and a demobat on their side.

"So, Eddie's really alive, huh?" Steve asked as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Yeah!" Dustin grinned, his head tilted back.

They were watching Michael the demobat fly around the room. Dart was moving his head like he was watching, too. Finally, Michael landed on top of Steve’s head, curled up in his hair, and went to sleep.

"Seriously?!" Steve asked.

"Steve, buddy, Michael's sleeping," Dustin cackled. "Shh."

"Dart," Steve sighed. "Do you want my salisbury steak? At least, I think that's what this is."

He picked up the mysterious meat and tossed it to Dart. He caught it, chewed on it for a moment before spitting it out.

"Not even Dart would eat that shit," Robin said from her spot on the floor.

Vickie was curled up against her, her head on Robin's chest as she slept. Robin had placed her jacket over her and nestled her chin on top of her head, rubbing Vickie's back as she did so. They were all tired but Vickie just couldn't fight it anymore. Suddenly, the ground began to shake.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" Vickie screamed as she sat up, reaching for her bag of grenades.

"Babe, babe, leave the grenades," Robin said.

"They did it. They fucking did it," Vickie whispered.

She leaned forward and kissed Robin on the mouth. Robin laughed and returned it eagerly. Nancy and Jonathan rushed into the room once the shaking finally ended. Vickie and Robin were still attached at the lips.

"Is everyone okay?" Nancy asked.

"Some more than others," Steve grinned at Robin. "How's Holly?"

"She's being examined by Dr. Fisher. I don't think she's planning on leaving mom and dad's side any time soon. I don't think mom and dad are planning on it either," Nancy said. "She was asleep the entire time, so I think for her it was the worst nightmare in the world."

"I'm glad you guys got her back," Steve said. "I'm glad you're here. . .judging by the earthquake, I think they did it. Maybe we should take take a leaf out of Robin and Vickie's book."

"Maybe we should," Jonathan grinned.

Nancy moved over to him and kissed him deeply before her lips down to his neck so Jonathan could have access to Steve’s.

"Okay, I think everyone's forgotten there's a goddamn child in the room. . .my girlfriend isn't here to kiss me," Dustin pouted, and Dart moved closer to him so he could lick his face. "Dart, buddy, I wasn't talking about you!"

Dustin couldn't stop the giggle that escaped him and hugged Dart's neck. Suddenly, Jonathan pulled away from Steve.

"Jesus, how did I not see the fucking demobat in your hair, man?" Jonathan asked and Steve laughed.

"Distracted by my pretty face, I guess," Steve winked.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Erica came running in.

"Max is awake!" She yelled.

They others hurried as fast as they could into Max's room. Nancy and Jonathan were last as they wheeled Steve in.

"Lucas?" Max asked.

"I'm here, I'm here," Lucas said.

"You look like shit," Max said and then she grinned.

"A blind joke? Seriously?" Lucas asked, half sobbing, half laughing.

"Well, I see that I didn't die," Max said.

"Yeah, but you're still a sight for sore eyes," Lucas said, and Max burst into laughter.

"I can't exactly do it myself. Get down here and kiss me, stalker," Max said.

Lucas kissed her, sobbing in delight. He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.

"Mad Max," he whispered.

"I'm alive," she whispered.

"Yeah, you are. . . Jane is on her way back from closing the gate for good. She killed Henry. . .with help from the others," Lucas said.

"Jane?" Max asked.

"She insisted on it after she got word a few months ago that her mother passed away. It's the name Terry had given her," Lucas said.

"Months? How long have I been asleep?" Max asked.

"Almost a year," Lucas said. "At first, nothing happened for a while. . . Just the particles appearing then came the vines. We weren't sure when Henry would make his next attack. We spent the last year preparing ourselves, and then Holly disappeared. We got her back, though. Eddie, Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick came back from the dead. Well, Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick weren't really dead. They were Henry's puppets."

"Eddie died?" Max asked.

"Yeah, but he's like a vampire bat now so it's okay," Lucas said.

"Okay, I'm starting to feel like maybe I'm still in the coma," Max said and paused. "Okay, I know your tongue isn't that long, Lucas. What the fuck's licking me?"

Dart had wedged himself into the room and was now licking Max's face.

"Oh, that's Dart," Lucas said.

"Dart?! I thought he was dead," Max said.

"Yeah, we did, too. He's been a huge help now. Vickie, uh, Robin's - " Lucas trailed off.

"Girlfriend!" Vickie exclaimed and turned to Robin. "Right? A whole lot of people saw us make out, I just thought - "

"Definitely girlfriend," Robin giggled.

"She rode in on Dart, saving Dustin, Jonathan, and Steve," Lucas said.

"Holy shit!"

Dustin was about to say something when someone announced over the loudspeaker that his mother was at the front desk. Nancy and Jonathan wheeled Steve after him while Dart walked on all fours beside them.

"Everyone's giving us weird looks," Steve smirked.

"It's just the demobat sleeping in your hair, Steve," Dustin said.

"Knew it."

Claudia threw her arms around her son the minute she saw him, hugging him tightly. She immediately fussed over him and then Steve. She screamed at the creature sleeping in his hair and then at Dart.

"Mom, it's okay, that's Dart. I told you about him. Turns out he's alive," Dustin said. "Go ahead and pet him on the head."

Timidly, Claudia reached out and stroked the top of his head. Dart started purring.

"Oh, he purrs! He's kind of ugly but also kind of cute," Claudia cooed.

"You purr? Why didn't you tell me?" Dustin asked Dart, putting his hands on his hips.

Just as Jonathan was about to say something, the others came through the open door. Eddie came through first, holding hands with Chrissy.

"Eddie! Shit, you're really alive!" Steve grinned.

"And you're hurt again," Eddie cackled.

"Yeah, everyone keeps stating the obvious, but I don't know why," Steve rolled his eyes. "Get over here, man!"

Eddie laughed and leaned down to hug Steve.

"Good to see you too, big boy," Eddie said.

Jonathan cleared his throat loudly and gave Eddie a pointed look as he pulled back.

"Jonathan, I think Eddie's pretty but nowhere near as pretty as you and Nancy," Steve said. "There's no need to be jealous, baby."

Michael woke up and took off towards her when Jane walked into the hospital. Jonathan pulled Steve’s hair back and leaned down to kiss him. Steve grinned against his lips, winking at him when he pulled back.

"Noted," Eddie giggled as he wrapped his arm around Chrissy. "I'm taken now anyway."

"It's so cute when you get possessive of our Steve," Nancy laughed at Jonathan.

"We should have a double date, though. . .or would it be called a triple and a double?" Eddie asked.

"Don't think too hard about it, man," Steve said. "Let's just call it a double date."

"I'm definitely looking forward to that though and having sex with Eddie," Chrissy said cheerfully, and he nearly choked on his own saliva.

"Well, he's a vampire, so you already know he's a biter," Nancy giggled.

"That's true!"

Soon after that, the skies started to clear, and dark clouds took their place as heavy rain came to wash it all away. Everyone separated into three hospital rooms and the waiting room. Their bodies relaxed where they sat, and they all fell asleep into a deep slumber when they realized that Henry Creel was officially gone for good. The clean-up wasn't going to be easy, and the healing after was going to be a struggle, but for now, as they all slept close to the ones they loved, knowing that there was nothing that they couldn't face if they faced it together as a family. . . All was well.

20 notes · View notes

echoandreflections · 2 months ago

Text

Behind The Scenes

Chapter 2:

One day before the start of filming, Los Angeles

-"So what happened to your hair exactly?" Jason asked, an arm thrown over Piper's shoulders as he leaned back in his seat, raising an eyebrow as a waiter put down their drinks on the table.

Annabeth looked up from her phone, eyes darting between Hazel and the couple sitting in front of her in the booth .

Unconsciously, she touched her newly cut bangs. The length slightly longer than she would've wished for.

-"You mean the bangs or..?" Annabeth cut herself off, realizing how dumb her question was. Of course he meant the bangs. "Well," she sighed, "I am mourning the loss of my vacation time." She answered as if it was the most reasonable of things and wouldn't be the talk of the internet for the next few days.

Honestly she didn't get it. Why was a simple haircut such a big deal to everyone around her? Sure, the internet would probably psycho-analyze this and come up with a crazy conclusion as always.

Last time she took out her hair from it's usual Iconic curly ponytail before a red carpet appearance, she had gossip website saying this was her way of admitting she was pregnant to the whole world (She doesn't even know how something this small led them to this conclusion and she has long given up on trying to understand).

Knowing that, Annabeth still decided to give herself bangs. A decision she doesn't regret because if she was honest for a second, these bangs looked damn good on her. The way it framed her face and made her eyes look bigger was definitely something she wasn't complaining about. The only thing is that she wished she thought of her hair before doing this. Because as it turns out, curly hair stays curly whether it's short or long. What she expected to be straight bangs (yes, she thought cutting her hair would change it's texture. Move on. The wine had fed into her delusion) turned out as curly as the rest of her hair. It made her look softer than she expected, not that she was complaining. It very much gave her a country girl look. Which gave her ideas for the concept of her next album. She had been on break for less than a month and she was already thinking of work again. She really needed to stop, she chastise herself in her head.

Hazel coughed next to her, catching everyone's attention.

-"Anyway, Annabeth?" Hazel turned toward the blond girl, her dark curly hair kept away from her face thanks to a white headband with flowers Piper had embroidered for her the year prior. A thank you gift for having let her and Jason have their wedding reception at her winery.

Piper had tried to pay her, she really had. But all Hazel accepted in the end was the handmade gift, finding it had way more value than any other things she had been offered.

Well she had also gladly accepted the horse Jason's family had gifted her, but that was beside the question. "Did Grover tell you who else would be on the show or is he still keeping it a secret?"

Grover, as it turned out, was pretty secretive about the whole making of "Baking with Olympus''s new season. She remembered seeing her friend pace around the room in stress a few days after accepting the offer to become the new director in chief of the franchise. The poor man was so stressed he could barely keep anything down. It was only after Annabeth had volunteered to be in the next season that he started relaxing slightly. "One less celebrity to find" he had said after she signed the contract.

At the time, nothing was really definitive. She hadn't even gotten the filming schedule before signing the contract. In other circumstances, she would've never signed something so sketchy, but this was Grover she was talking about. She trusted him with her life and if there was a way to take a bit of worry off of him, she had no choice but to do it.

But now, two years later, all she knew about the show was the filming schedule. She had no idea which other celebrity she would be co-starring with, nor which baker she would be assigned as teammates. Leaving her with nothing to do but wait patiently for the first day of filming. Usually, she would have done a chemistry reading with the rest of the cast ( or whatever they do on tv shows), to make sure everyone got along well. But this was a reality show first and foremost. Disagreements and conflicts were both wanted and needed to make it interesting.

Annabeth shook her head, glancing at Hazel "I still have no idea. I think he's scared someone might accidentally leak the cast before the premier. I don't see why else he would be so secretive about all of this." She answered with a shrug.

Piper pursed her lips, leaning forward, away from the arms of her husband. He pouted slightly, but kept his mouth shut.

-"Do you think it's because of what happened to 'Hearbeat' last year?" She asked, a suspicious glint in her eyes.

Annabeth thought about it for a second.

Heartbeat had been last year's most anticipated reality show. The whole premise had been that celebrities from all over North America would be paired with each other and put on blind dates while their heart rates were monitored. The goal was to make the other participant's heartbeat spike.

Unfortunately for everyone working on the show, the identities of multiple celebrities working on the project had been leaked before the official release date, leading to the discovery of many affairs happening in the behind the scenes of the show. It was no surprise the show was canceled before it was even able to air its first episode.

-"I don't think so," Hazel disagreed. "Heartbeat was doomed from the start with that concept. Grover is hosting a baking show, not a dating show."

-"And Baking with Olympus has consistently made numbers with each of its seasons. I think it's the only baking show everyone has watched at least once. I doubt leaking the identities of the cast would harm the show in any way." Jason added, tugging back his wife at his side by her waist. A smile tugged at Piper's lips as she laid back into her husband's shoulder.

Annabeth and Hazel couldn't help but smile too at the view of the happy couple. It was thanks to them that they had met after all.

Jason's family owned the ranch next to Hazel's winery. Meaning he would often come visit the winery on days he needed to walk off his worries. Hazel never really minded, especially since it meant he always let her pet the horses in exchange.

It was during their mutual agreement that while visiting, Annabeth saw Hazel's hot neighbor for the first time. She was surprised to see how much he fit the description of Piper's ideal man, a description she had discovered after hearing her drunk friend rave about her ideal other half.

It took less than five words to convince Hazel to help her set up Piper with her neighbor.

The next day, Annabeth was careful to lose Piper where vines were the tallest after catching a glimpse of Jason going on a walk. A very lost Piper was found by him and the rest was history.

Hazel and Annabeth had kept the secret of their secret arrangement until their speech at the couple's wedding years later.

"All I know right now is that filming starts tomorrow." Annabeth admitted, "If I am not wrong, it's also tomorrow that the cast will be revealed to the public." She finished.

-"On the same day?" The couple asked in unison.

-"Looks like everyone will discover who's casted in this at the same time" Piper mused.

"I just hope nothing is gonna go wrong," Hazel said solemnly.

Annabeth could only agree.

#ao3 #percy pjo #percy and annabeth #percabeth #pjo #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase

8 notes · View notes

aconflagrationofmyown · 2 years ago

Text

A Whole Man is Hard to Find - chapter 12

An Elvis Presley Fanfic AU

I posted the AO3 link before and thought why not plop the chapter here as well. Much love ♥️

“Now, now hear me out, it’s a sensible plan but it’s got a major catch.” Elvis mumbled into Bean’s withers and got a derisive snort from his horse in return, “Nah, don’t call me a coward boyo, I’m just sayin Nevada Territory is a long ways away, Lord knows what’s even out there. What if there’s no water, huh? What would you do then?” Beans just nuzzled his leg with his impossibly soft muzzle, “Yeah, you’d look to me to get ya water but I’m not the Almighty, I can’t make something outta nothin, and then you’d die on me like er’ybody else, yes you would, don’t argue the point, you would. These are the things ya gotta think of before ridin into the sunset like you suggested. Sunsets can fry ya up, ya do know?”

Beans stretched his magnificent self lazily as he laid on his side, hoofs kicking out and shuffling round the hay they were both sat in. Every time his horse nearly drifted off to sleep he’d startle awake as if Captain Presley’s constant, four hour long monologue of romantic, spiritual and monetary woes intrigued him too much to snooze through. Or maybe it was the way the Captain’s hand would stall in its petting when he really got himself worked up recounting one betrayal or another. Either way, Beans would then shake his mighty neck in Elvis’ lap until Elvis remembered what was truly important in life and went back to braiding his mane.

“I know, I know I keep you shut up in here all the time and death in the great big desert sounds nicer than another day here, I know, I know and I’m sorry. I’m rather shit at taking care of anybody, aren’t I? Keep ‘em alive and fed but are they happy? Hell no, don’t know a single happy person or horsey in my acquaintance. Would you be happy in the desert Beans, hmm?”

Elvis let his head fall back against the rough wooden post he had his back against. He heard shuffling in the adjoining compartment next to the stables, in the boiler room, and in a few minutes voices raised.

Hymn sing. Had to be dawn by now.

His right leg was numb where Beans rested the weight of his neck, his mouth was dry as dust and his hands shook with chill, but he felt sober, rational, as much as he ever was which had always been a matter of contention with folks -was Elvis Presley naturally mad? Beans said he was, Beans said it was nothing to take to heart either. Beans understood him, except about the logistics of eloping with nothing but a horse and the shirt on your back. Beans was an idealist who didn’t think about where hay and water and the next brushing down would come from. Beans had never had to go in and apologize to a lying woman for being cruel to her. Beans didn’t know what it was like to love somebody ya didn’t really know.

Elvis ignored the pins and needles in his leg and gave himself five more minutes on the stable floor. Besides, he wasn’t finished with the braiding and you can’t leave a pretty fella like Beans half undone.

Five minutes turned to ten and he wondered idly if now that his pulse no longer ricocheted in his skull that perhaps he might catch a wink of sleep.

The swish swish of a skirt displacing hay caught his ear and he opened his eyes, raising his head to find Sister Rosetta approaching gingerly through the hay and dung, moderating her usual commanding gait as she picked a path across the stables, balancing a jug and greasy brown bag such as confectioners used.

“You sweet woman.” he murmured as he spied her goodies and she startled a little at him being awake, then smiled in gratification at the clear eyed greeting he gave her.

“How are you feeling, Captain?” she asked, gently kneeling down at Bean’s head and reaching for his shoulder.

“Lil better.” he assured her but his voice sounded like a croak.

“Did you manage any sleep?”

“No.”

“You need this.” she pushed the jug in his hands and he greedily drank down the melon water in it, his shakes calming for a minute. “And you’d best eat a little, so as to keep your strength up and your temper down.”

He wasn’t hungry but they both knew that wasn’t the point. He had removed himself from you last night in a bid to regain some fraction of sobriety and rantional before hearing a confession he was pretty certain he could recite beforehand -verbatim. But it had seemed the wise, kind, just thing to remove himself until he could hear it in a steady frame of mind. Even if it had felt a little cold to close the door on your tear stained face and “Elvis, Elvis please, don’t go!” echoing down the hall after him as you scratched at the door, sounding every bit the child he used to play with.

The half gnawed biscuit stuck to his throat and he had to gulp in more water to force it down. That alone took energy out of him. He flicked idly at the rest of it, tearing pieces and fiddling with them till they crumbled before they could reach his mouth.

“You are going to go to her, aren’t you?” Sister Rosetta asked and he was too tired to play dumb or tell her to mind her own. In fact he could use some womanly advice at the moment.

“Yeah.” he whispered.

“Jerry sent me to find you,” she went on, “the Colonel was about ready to break down the suite door, thinking you were in your room and unconscious since no answer came out. One assumes Miss Beaumont has either fainted inside or simply won’t deign a reply.”

“Oh Lord!” he exclaimed making to rise, puffing in effort to extricate himself from under Bean’s sturdy neck.

“Before you go,” she laid a delaying hand on his arm as he brushed off the hay from his trousers, “I’m not one to divulge a trust, and what that little woman told me as I dressed her last night was in strictest confidence despite her emotion, but seeing as how I have a sense you are about to make a very heavy decision in her regard, I think it excusable that I tell you a secret in her favor.”

“What’s that?” he whispered, fear and hope warring in his eyes.

Ten minutes and the damn brute still pounded on the suite door, rattling your overwrought nerves with every barrage and fruitless clamor of Elvis’ name. “My boy, my boy” again and again in that loathsome accent. You sourly hoped the Colonel’s deafening assault against the hinges stemmed from fear that he’d overdrawn the bank of life and killed his cash cow at last, as he truly almost had. You sat at the rickety vanity chair, not a bit of your outfit touched since the Captain had left you hours ago, only your boots taken off and the pretty pistol from them laying cold and heavy in your lap, pointed at the quivering door. If you were to be killed or rejected or taken to prison, you might as well have it done in the prettiest dress you had ever worn, bought by the kindest man you’d ever known. And if you killed Parker with the pistol Elvis had won for you, there was a poetic justice to it, even if he wouldn’t give you time enough to explain it.

Suddenly, there was quiet behind the door. Then the murmur of voices. You stood up and tip toed to it, pressing your ear to the wood in hopes to catch a snippet of conversation or a clue as to who had pacified Parker. You could not hear the voices clear enough, you could not make out if the pitch belonged to Elvis. You strained and held your breath, closed your eyes and tried to focus on the murmur outside, to give you some hint if he was coming in or not, if he was even there. If he was even alive.

A rattling from the famous shutters covering the windows opposite startled you out of your skin. You yelped and spun round, back pressed to the door and pistol raised at the hidden intruder currently picking the shutter’s lock after raising the window with remarkable quiet. The shutter kicked open and in streamed early morning daylight, painting a golden backdrop behind Elvis as he crouched in the window sill, hands raised and a look of pleasant surprise on his face,

“Don’t shoot, please don’t shoot.” he actually laughed.

You dropped the pistol to the floor in your shock, needing to clutch at the door handle lest you crumple to the ground on seeing him again, looking remarkably alive and whole, “I didn’t know it was you.” you explained hoarsely.

“Course, course.” he nodded, “Good girl, be it anyone else and I do expect you to blow their heads off.” he looked you up and down and took in the gala finery still laced tight and the pale color of your face, the way you stared dully at him as if you had not expected conversation to be made. Neither of you had done any sleeping, it would seem. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight on the sill, “May I come in?” he asked gently.

You frowned in confusion, “Of course.”

“Thank you.” he murmured and let himself down, knees creaking as he straightened out. “I went round the deck on the back way so as not to get caught, whole damn crew is after me with one thing to tell or ask. A-a-and I wanted to get here first.”

He was alive and stutteringly polite and your exhausted heart did not know what to make of it. While he looked like hell in many ways, he carried himself soberly, only dead beat weariness detectable in his red rimmed eyes. You had some flicker of hope that maybe he’d hear you out. A whole night to prepare and you still had no set speech, but you had an idea of how to begin it.

“I don’t deserve it,” you settled on as beginning while wringing your hands, more a gust of breath than a true voice coming out your throat, “but would you be so good as to hear me, as there was something I wished to tell you last night, and it can no wait.”

“I’ll hear ya out.” he replied gravely, his eyes had not met yours since he stepped down from the window into the room, they kept roving from the bed to the vanity to the double rataan doors. There was not an unstoried inch in the whole suite. “But first, you’ll hear me out, no, no really, you must.” he put his hand up as you went to protest and you folded meekly, too scared and tired to risk angering him. “Move dear, I wanna see that we’re alone for this.” and he motioned you away from your place by the door as he strode up to it and unlocked it with his key, flinging it open.

Seemingly satisfied that there was no one lurking, he shut it again gently and locked it once more. He picked up your pistol from the floor, putting it and the key on the dresser, his discarded overcoat flopping atop it. You now stood where he had by the windows, and he took to leaning on the dresser in his shirtsleeves, one hand rattling out a nervous staccato rhythm on its shiny top, while the other shielded his smarting eyes from the light.

Every time he looked at you it was as if his voice dried up, he wished now he had left the shutters closed, so as not to be tempted to make an inventory of the year’s toll on your face before he could get out what he needed to say.

“It’s come to my attention,” he cleared his throat gratingly, “that, that, I,” he coughed again and then straightened up, taking his hand down from his eyes and giving you the courtesy of meeting your startlingly famillair eyes, a penance for his sins he thought, “that I owe you a heartfelt apology for my horrid behavior last night.”

“You needn’t-“ you assured him in a hurry,

“No, no, I-I really must say I’m ever so ashamed, and I’m sorry.” his fingers stippled faster, “For all of it. Handlin you so rough a-a-and I dunno what all I threatened but Sister Rosetta informs me I’m an awful sorta man, t-t-to ya, and I’m sorry. I’m real sorry-“

“What did she say?” you paled, and made an aborted motion to go to him before thinking better of it, “I didn’t complain of you to her! What did she-“

“She said enough.” he ignored you gravely, “She said enough and I recall enough that I-I-I am real sorry for it, and I want you to know I didn’t mean it, that weren’t me in my right mind. I never,” his voice shook and his hand flew up to his mouth to force his lips to stop their trembling, he went on after a minute, “I’d never in a million years want to see you nothin but loved and cared for, none of that awful shit I said.”

You swallowed hard, torn between holding your peace, taking his unexpected gentleness to heart and using it to bolster your failing courage to confess, or assuring him that savage as he had been in his jealousy, you were not so deeply wronged as he thought. You were not so good as he yet maintained. You had wanted him, too.

“And for that…thing…with the Binder fella,” he interrupted your thoughts as he looked over your head, unable to keep eye contact, “I’m sorry to have embarrassed you like that. A-a-and for anything else I’ve omitted, i-I-i‘m real sorry.”

His sins were nothing, all things considered, not when measured against what you had done against him, and you felt a fool being made to listen to the apologies of a man who knew you had wronged him deeper.

“Are you -mocking me?” you asked in confusion, unable to make sense of it.

“What?” he startled, “No! Hell no, I-I-I’m very sorry. I’m askin ya to forgive me, if you can.” he added, giving you that strangely effective look from under his lashes.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” you muttered.

“There is, goddamn it!” he pounded his fist on the dresser top and you flinched, “Those days of you putting up with no good men and bastards are over, I’ve told you that! Now why won’t you listen to me? I done told you before to slap the next fella that was disrespectful to you! Why didn’t you?”

“I did.” you cringed backwards.

“You did?” he repeated comically, then looked spooked at the notion he had forgotten more of last night than he thought, “You slapped me last night?”

“Yes.”

“Well -good, good that’s, that’s good.” he rubbed his jaw nervously.

“Can I say my piece now?” you asked, timid and impatient all at once.

“Yes.” he agreed sullenly, leaning back against the dresser again, “Though we needn’t engage in dramatics or a listing of your goddamn family tree nor a drum roll reveal that you are who you are.” your heart pounded in your throat and you watched as his soured mirth turned shrewd, “Cause I know exactly who you are, Cricket.”

The shock you voiced at hearing that old nickname drop from those once familiar lips sounded closer to a sob gusting out than any word, forced out by melancholy sentimentality and a shaking relief at being known. “Oh Elvis.” you whispered, unable to think a damn thing except ‘I’ve missed you, my old friend’.

“Must've been real hard not to laugh every time you felt me trying to puzzle together why Savannah Beaumont would look so shockingly like the late Miss Maddy Hodgkins.” he went on, his cold tone and the bitter twist to his mouth stamping out your initial relief, “Bet you barely held it together every time I looked at you, asked you bout your folks, my folks, made goddamn fervent love to you, and only you knowing I was bein’ had every fuckin second of it.”

“No!” you wailed, and shook your head frantically, “No, no it wasn’t -I, I was only shy and terrified, it had been so long I didn’t know you any more!” you pleaded with him.

“You once told me you’d lost all your friends when MY women died.” he jabbed a finger at you, “What was that but a goddamn joke? MY women? That was your sister! Your mother! Those were your folks every bit as much as mine, more in fact. And my mother too, who loved you dearly a-a-and you stood there and lied about it! Said I was the one with the greater grief! Hell, you told me anythin I wanted to hear, this whole goddamn time I thought you understood and you did, oh you did but you played it, every step of the way, every hour or the day you played it.”

“No.” you moaned, “No, not, not after-“

“After what?” he demanded fiercely.

“I don’t know when! Helena maybe, or the bath, I don’t know, but I-I, when I stopped being scared, I stopped lying about, about, about the things that mattered!” you stammered.

“Oh?” he mocked, “Tell me, Miss Hodgkins, what things matter to a woman like you?”

“You!” you near screamed at him and that shook him out of his derision. You watched him swallow hard. “You, I have not lied in any of my sentiments in regards to you.” you swore solemnly, “And there has not a single passing moment I did not regret my choice to lie to you.”

He squinted hard at the full, formidable, womanly shape of you and the glare of sunshine behind you, and it was near unbearable to reconcile it all. He wanted to cry and fight and scream at heaven for making it all so warped. That this sweet child of memory should be so cruel and beguiling a lover. He had left you behind him one day a barefoot child and not thought of you since. You were stuck there, grinning and muddy in a daffodil patch, waving him farewell. His mind had buried you there, you couldn’t be the woman who saved him and goaded him and cared for him and stirred his blood.

“I’ve got this memory I’m tryin not to recall but,” he spoke up after a heavy silence, “but it’s got ya in pigtails, tooth missin so your words whistle when ya talk, barely coming up to my hip ya were, and you’re fussin over my scrapes and I-I-I shoulda seen it. Shoulda seen it the minute you couldn’t even manage to hide behind your fear that mornin I first l-I, ya just had to tend to me didn’t ya? God, I shoulda seen it, seen that lil girl in you, but see, no, no. That little girl was supposed to grow up and cause her father a little worry and her mother much pride and she was gonna make a feisty wife for some good man and she was gonna be good! Life was gonna be good to her, she was gonna have it good. She, she, she, she’s not you. She’s not this!” he swooped his hand up and down your rumpled glamor. “Not even life would be so cruel.” his voice broke and he sobbed, “God wouldn’t be so cruel, not to her.”

“Captain,” you hushed him, an impotent hand stretched out to stay his heartache though you dared not take the liberty of touching him, bewildered by the turn this had taken, “you needn’t lose your faith over this, over her. She’s happy now, can’t you see that? She has you, if she has you, then she has it good, life has been good to her at last.”

He took his fingers from his eyes and drug them down his cheeks, stretching his face into a wane pantomime of his exhaustion. “I’m sorry that I did not take more care to search for you when I returned to Memphis,” his voice shook terribly, “that I accepted your death. What’s one more? -I had thought when I heard, seemed like the world was gettin cleansed of all that I’d loved and all my kin. I just, I didn’t think of ya then. ‘Cept that, least you’d been spared growin old in this cruel world.” he laughed, mirthless and sharp, “God! God!” he screamed and thudded his fist against the dresser with each invocation.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, “I’m sorry but I’ve done alright,” you soothed, “I’m alive and I am here. I’m safe here, you’ve given me that!”

“Done alright?” he repeated in disbelief, “You’ve lived a lie and you’ve done murder and been sold and been defrauded and you’re so fucked in the head from it all you think that fallin in with me is a goddamn heaven sent reprieve. Ha! Fuck!”

“You didn't deserve what happened to you either, what you had to do to be here now, but I don’t see your faith crumpling in the face of it.” you struck back, miserably.

He shook his head as if trying to shake out your logic from his ear canals.

“You needn’t have lied! My god, not to me, not to me!” he looked like he was pleading with you now, as if you could go back in time and choose honesty. “I’m your, your, -Elvis.” he whispered, defeated, as he thought of all the times you’d called him Captain, never used his name even when he’d needed to hear it, even from the stranger he thought you were.

“Even if, upon being bought at a auction block, I had been tempted to tell you, to trust your hideous reputation with so demanding a truth I-“ you balled your fists and pounded them against your hips in futile frustration at your inability to impress upon him your rotten form of sincerity, “even then, Captain, I would not have been speaking much of a truth! You can call me by my given name all you wish, you can sentence me to any judgment you see fit with it written in damming ink but the truth remains that I have not answered to it in nigh on a decade! A decade! All this time you have been playing at whatever life you call this circus I have been embodying a corpse! I did not concoct this lie to hurt you, I was nearly a child when I took it on, and all I have learned of life has been in Savannah Beaumont’s skin. Who I am now, who you found in that brothel was no more the child you knew than the next whore.”

“That can’t be,” he whispered like he personally found it insufferable that you should have no recollections as clear as him, “that can’t, you must -you do- remember some of it.”

“A little.” you agreed. “But it is as if it happened to someone else. And I had not thought of it, of you as I remember you, until that afternoon in Helena. I am not myself and I am not miss Beaumont but, I-I,” your lip shook so badly you had to pause, salty tears running onto your tongue, “I I-I , or rather you, gave me the one firm notion of who I am. I am your Rosey.” you said simply, “And even if you no longer keep me, I’ll be yours all my days now you’ve made me into someone at long last. Can’t be undone, once someone’s born you can’t send them back. You cannot! Don’t, please don’t take that from me.”

You stretched your hands out to him, begging him to hear you. Understand. He looked at you through a sheet of black hair that had fallen across his forehead and into his glittering eyes. He was terrified he’d not met a mate but a mirror in you, and he didn’t know how to tell you his own soul was cracked beyond repair. The stupid, glimmering hope that maybe you were still repairable had him gentling his expression and murmuring in tender warning lest you come nearer,

“I need a reason, Cricket, give me a reason for all this, the lies, not to me but the world.” he sniffed hard and pointed towards the chair at the vanity, “Sit down dear, you’re shakin.” he commanded gently.

Obeying took you further away from him but you found it easier to breathe with the distance, and sitting felt a little less like standing before a firing squad. He was still being kind and it gave you hope for this last little test of his limitations. You forced your hands to uncurl and lay limply atop your lap. “They were going to blame Savannah Beaumont’s murder on an innocent freedman.” you summarized simply, relief palpable from sharing the weight of that truth that had been carried alone for all these years. “Not by accident or any proof, but because one of their own had done it, and they did not expect a soul to appear in his defense. They did not expect Savannah Beaumont to show in court and exonerate her supposed murderer.” it was your turn to laugh mirthlessly.

Elvis had taken to breathing out his mouth, his weeping having clogged the other route. His bottom lip shook with every inhale. “Who is ‘they’, honey?”

“Memphis City Council, a judge who was in on it, even the Secretary of State, I was later informed by Mr. Moore.”

“Why, why would you though-“

“I was asked.” you whispered simply, “The whole plantation came to the front steps and begged me to step in her place, for his defense and to keep Belle Mead. It was so outlandish it worked, all the women folk had been reclusive, none recognized her by sight save my father, the overseer. He pointed her out for slaughter in her own foyer. So you see, with the entire plantation swearing as my witnesses, those councilors looked like fools.”

“Bet you felt real clever.” his voice was flat but his eyes showed a memory of the precocious little girl you had been.

“I had a brief moment of elation when they ceded that the coloured man was to go free.” you bit your lip savagely, “Yes, yes it was very clever and I thought maybe heaven had blessed my efforts, to protect them and the place. That was before I learned the price.”

His squint eyed stare lifted and he looked suddenly gentle, worried, fearful, “And what was that?”

“My father, sir.” you stuck your chin out and smiled bitterly, “I killed my father, by my testimony if not by my own hands. You see, I had seen the murder, I saw Savannah be beaten to death by a Carpetbagger working for one of those northern investment firms, he stated his name and his occupation on the front steps as he crowed over taking away the roof and floors and last shred of hope we had. My father was with him, made me go and rouse the young heiress dying of consumption to make her come downstairs and cede the family property in person. Savannah came downstairs, sure enough,” he watched your eyes waver and then unblinking your mind went far away, “she came down and plopped all those due taxes in his hand. He’d been over hasty. My father said she was gonna die anyway, they could wait the two or three months the tuberculous needed to finish the job. No heirs to the place, it would be auctioned. But the man was in a great hurry, so many appointments, so many business ventures. I’ve never seen something so, so sudden, so unprovoked. Before or since. And when I went to stop him, I got a pair of hands around my throat for my trouble, and my father telling me over that demon’s shoulder that I could live if I would just cooperate. You may recall that is one thing I was never very good at.”

His laugh was watery and forced. This was familiar territory now, not that he knew this story, but he and countless others had lived their own version, peppered always with corruption and bribery. He nodded for you to go on, finish this, like the last death stroke to a dying pet.

“The man I meant to accuse, the man who did the deed,” was on this boat, was his friend, “he was nowhere to be found, but they had the freeman in his stead. There had to be a culprit, I had gone into that courtroom in a flurry of shock and applause only to find no one to accuse. Save one. One who had nearly let me die at the hands of a brute, who’d held me back as he turned Savannah’s brains to a melon.” you realized you’d picked your fingernail bloody when it smeared on the white silk in a pinkish stain, you met Elvis’ eyes and found him looking about as hollow as you felt, “So I told them my father had done it, for he had done enough. And you should have see the Judge’s look of relief at having scapegoat.”

“I bet.” he muttered.

“I thought I had not done such an abominable thing as it took two witnesses to hang a man and there was only me.” you began to plead, the weight of unconfessed guilt finally tumbling free. “I thought he’d only be confined!”

“But they offed him in prison, didn’t they?” he murmured in realisation, “Mr. Moore said so, but you knew why. You knew it was so they could cover the tracks of their botched scheme.”

“Yes,” you scrubbed under your nose miserably, “and they covered mine while they were at it. A mercy, that is what they called it back on the Plantation. A kind act of Providence.” you scoffed, “And so it was for all of them. Nearly ten years I lived the lie of a damned woman so they could be free, unbothered, diligent, prosperous even -once we had worked ourselves to the bone for it. And at times,” you stared hard at the floor, all of it out now, nearly all of it out, “at times I fancied God may have forgiven me, understood me, took into account the good I’d done. But, believe me, I never felt sure of it until you, you were forgiveness and reward and understanding all at once. Now I think you, after this, or life without you, that would be the cleverest judgment ever imagined.”

Sunbeams, reflecting off the river's surface, were dancing and cavorting and intertwining along the polished wood of his floors, slicing golden and playful through the rich carpets near his feet. It was the farthest your eyes could make up his figure as he stayed leaning against the dresser like a man cast up from the sea onto a rocky beach. Your eyes retreated to your own feet, pink toes sticking out from under silk. You stuck a toe out to catch a sunny fairy dancer, all it did was cast a shadow. Your lip wobbled in disappointment, then fear as the precious silence was cut by the heavy clunk of his boots closing the distance, a faint tinkling of spurs suggesting he gave some thought to fleeing in the night. As he came close and closer you watched as he trampled the sunny dancers on the carpets and then on the wood and then dark, worn cavalrymen’s boots were beside your pink toes, just short of crushing them, too.

You thought then of the princesses and the queens you’d read of who held their heads high when the executioner's ax sliced quick and cruel. You did so wonder where all your strength had gone. If you swayed forward one tiny bit you’d have your face pressed to the warm planes of his lean belly, you’d be anchored to the earth again. It was as if you spoke it into existence,

manifesting your weakness, suddenly it was a fact, your nose buried in the body warmed cotton of his shirt, the unmistakable poke of wiry hair separated by fabric coming to the fore at the wet ghost of a sob from your mouth. If you had any strength you would have wrapped your arms around his hips and clung. You wondered if his loneliness was so strong he’d take even a wretched sort of company like yours.

Your body nearly convulsed with the strength of the shudder that ripped through you when his warm hand engulfed your jaw, gently but inexorably tilting your face away from his body and up, upwards to his face, to the mirror of his feelings and my god, his face was morphing ceaselessly and his eyes churning in tormented unsurety until he saw yours. Yours was the look of a woman in pain, resigned to losing the man she loves. He would know that look, he had put it on Maddy’s face when he’d gleefully gone off to war and then found she’d had the right idea all along, nothing awaited him but strife and a dreadful weight of loss.

Here was something he could mend, could fix -that was his own intention with you all along, wasn't it? When had he gotten sidetracked and fell in line with you saving him instead? You were sent for him to mend, to forgive too, it seems, -if he could wipe away the bitter taste of seeing himself in you. That weak and sickening feeling of undeservedness in forgiving some part of his own wretchedness if he were to forgive yours. His hand spasmed against your jaw in his inner struggle, tan and elegant fingers digging into creamy plushness. To forgive you would be to forgive himself, to forgive what was necessary. What was necessary. He had never been ashamed of what he had to do, but my god he had not forgiven it. Suddenly that seemed very cruel, very childish, very lonely. He bent down, blue eyes locked on yours, closer and closer, his gripping palm searing your cheek.

He meant to say something, some absolution or assurance, but he could only choke and heave on his breaths as he bent and descended. And then his lips were slotted against yours, vigorous and unmistakably intentional. A kiss, searing and deep, his hands gripping your skull, bending your delicate neck back as he devoured you from above. A kiss of life it felt, this first interaction of your real self with another soul, and to be met with want and unashamed gusto? Your arms grew strong again and you grabbed him to you, elongating your body in your seat to push back into the kiss. Back and forth you two were grappling and kissing and plunging into the other's mouth, a near constant fight of “no, no, no you too! you too must know you are wanted!”

The chair creaked with the force of your passions, his knee pressed to the seat between your legs and you squeezed the muscle between yours, engaging every part of yourself in pouring out your devotion. He was shaking once he pulled away, just far enough to heave in necessary breaths and grip onto the back of your chair for support instead of snapping your shoulders. Your head lolled back, faint without his support. You gazed up at him dazedly, feeling small and nostalgic as he loomed over you. You savored it. Your hand, on its own accord it felt, raised to his face and you touched the gorgeous curve of his cheekbone, trailing down his jaw, his throat and down, down to his collarbones and the heaving width of his chest. You spread your palm out over the tacky skin guarding his heart.

“Is this really you, Cricket?” he took a shaky hand from the chair back and hovered it over your face, the face of a woman, the face of an old friend. He blinked rapidly. Clever and brutal and beautiful you were to him all at once. “Oh, you, you, you -you terrifying, magnificent, irresistible creature.” he thundered, hand descending to your throat and pulling you back in for another kiss.

“You see,” you gasped between his plush lipped assaults, “you see what kind of men I am used to? You see why I though I should fear you?” you had to know he understood, you had to get the whole of it out. He was pouring into you the very strength to land the final blow.

“Yes, yes I do.” he panted into your mouth, nearly crouching over you in your chair as not only his mouth but his body sought yours, “Gimme their names, and if there’s any left I’ll make ‘em scream for ya.”

“One of them is aboard.” you whispered into his ear as he attacked your neck with fervor. He went stock still. His lips pulled away from their suction listlessly. His hand tightened round your neck then dropped. He stood up in confusion.

Bleary eyes blinked down at you as his exhausted mind tore through possibilities and came up with nothing but a sinking feeling of being had.

Again . “What’s this?” he asked in a low and wounded voice, “Some goddamn riddle? Gonna quote some scripture and tell me ‘thou art the man’, hmm? Do you mean me?”

“No, my darling!” you sprang up from the chair and clasped your arms around his middle, pulling him close, “no, no never you!”

“Who then?” he asked wary, stiff in your embrace, watching as you fought with which expression to donn while delivering the truth. “No pandering or fudging now, goddamn you! Who?”

“Your benevolent colonel is the murderer, sir.” you got it out and the relief it gave you was soon replaced by dread as he looked very much as if he knew what you meant but did not agree. “Colonel Parker is the one who ought to have been hung in my father’s stead, but his contacts, your contacts, saved him. Made him vanish from the reach of justice. Ask Mr. Moore, he’ll tell you of it. The strange case of the vanishing man.”

The Captain’s eyes flitted over your face contemplatively, trying to see if he could yet define which expressions of yours were lies, truths and half truths. You had proven shrewd, and he could forgive you for that, but trusting you? That was a bit much to ask, right and good as it felt to have your arms around him. At worst you might be vindictive over the Colonel’s distaste for your presence aboard. More likely, or what he hoped was more likely, your head had been turned by the event, your memories muddy, recollections bending under the horrid strain of it. One tiny reminder and suddenly you thought you had your culprit, one stout foreigner was as likely to earn your accusation as the next.

He knew how it worked, an entire portion of his own life’s memories were very resolutely kept under lock and key, only when the Colonel hinted or Scotty accused did a searing flash of some nauseating recollection flash vibrant and unbearable across his mind and he was quick to shove it down. Many times over the years as he passed through the streets he thought he saw faces of men from hazy memory who were always faceless until they weren’t. The men had been strangers, blameless of the horror with which he recoiled from them on the sidewalk. He had learned the mind keeps back what it needs in order to go on, but it’s a delicate wardenship. He no longer recoiled from innocent pedestrians, and one day you too would grow strong enough not to suspect every foreigner of being the man who haunted your dreams.

Something of this thought process must’ve shown on his face since you began grasping at him frantically again, even as you kept a moderate tone when exclaiming, “You don’t believe me.”

“Honey,” he began, trying to keep his own voice light and pacifying as he patted your cheek, “I-I-I didn’t say that. It’s a lot to process, alright? Just, calm down and yeah, calm down, sit down.”

You let him back you towards the chair and sat yourself down again with childlike compliance. You kept your hands on his hips, loath to be separated after the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. Every gentle touch and kind word of his had you startled, so certain had you been of his inability to forgive. After some amused deliberation on his part, looking from your hands on his trousers to your fretful face, he sat himself in your lap, sideways, as he had last night. The crushing weight of him was welcome, as was the sweet grin he gave you as he wiggled into a comfortable recline. You buried your face in his chest and tried to bite your tongue, allowing him a minute to ponder what you said. You tried to focus on breathing, on his gentleness and the heavy thud of his overworked heart beneath your ear. He rubbed your arms over the rough lace of your sleeves, just holding you and letting himself be held, biting his tongue as well.

“What on earth am I to do with you, child? Hmm?” he murmured into your hair at last.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” you observed again, miserably, forgetting why you cared now you were being stroked and petted.

“I-it’s not like that, honey, really it’s not. Time and pain -they muddle things, darlin. And I’ve known that man for the better part of a decade and now -here you come wantin me to believe somethin entirely uncharacteristic of him. This fella you’re after, why he weren’t with you for more than a few minutes! And I’ve had an entire decade with the colonel. So no, no, it ain’t a matter of believin it’s a matter of actin on it. And I can’t just act on it yet. I can’t.”

“I’m not after anyone!” you insisted, “And I don’t except you to trust me implicitly after all i've done-“

“-well that’s real sensible of you.”

“-don’t joke! Please don’t!” you begged, “I’m not after anyone, he is after me! He sat in that carriage last night and threatened my life and Cal’s!”

“What’s that now?” he pulled away so he could look down at your face and study you closely. You figured he thought he had mastered some trick to tell if you were lying or not. You were not, you had run out of lies, for good.

“He knows me, he admitted as much! And threatened Cal if I were to expose him to you!” you watched the Captain as he bit his lip and studied you, a thousand different puzzle pieces swirling in those stormy eyes, “Elvis I wouldn’t be so impertinent, so insistent that you believe me after what I’ve done if it weren’t so dire.”

“This is why you told me to watch the boy.”

“Yes! You have, haven’t you?”

“Calm down honey, yeah, checked him last night and then charged Jerry with the same. He’s fine. Now, you say the Colonel said he knew ya?” he pressed the point.

“Yes.”

“Well, darling don’t ya think,” he worried his bottom lip between his fingers and gave another moment to formulate his theory, “ain’t it likely he meant he knew who you were, that you were responsible for killin the dug up Yankee buried in your arbor? -speakin of, that case will rain down a heap of investigations on my head.” he added in a disgruntled mumble.

“No I- I don’t think he meant that.” you sighed, stroking his thigh absently, “it was all very metaphorical and shrouded but the threat was real! He knows me.”

“We don’t know what he knows!” Elvis grunted, “No, no you can’t hand me riddles an’ shit and say that you’ve been found out. You existin on this damn boat is enough reason to piss the colonel off, makin’ you a purser was sure to send him into a rage. I was hoping to give a few weeks to cool him off but then, sweet baby Jesus, you just had to have a Yankee buried in a shallow grave behind the house! Look honey, I’m real sorry he was an ass to ya but you aren’t the first, and I’d think a lil knife wielder like yourself wouldn’t be so shook by it.” he tried to tickle your neck but you reared back, you fear stoked by his maddening nonchalance.

“He threatened Cal!”

“Tell me what he said, word for word.” he asked, patient but in the manner of a professor about to explain that it isn’t the math that is wrong, but your own calculations.

You focused on his hand swooping up your arm in its comforting pace, the grounding weight of his body in your lap, the musky smell of him after a night of revelry and no soap. “He said he knew about your little causes,” you began, “and that Cal was a bright boy and that he suspected that if anything were to happen to him I’d be crushed. He then suggested that were the boy to witness some untoward behavior of the Colonel’s he counted on me to tell Cal that he did not see what he thought he saw.”

“The hell does that mean?” his eyebrow quirked in frustrated bewilderment,

“It was a threat! To put me off confessing to you.”

“You got all that outta…all that.” he waved his hand around.

“Do you not?” you cried.

“I dunno what the hell to make of it!” he declared, “After all, you two are the only ones aboard the damn boat carryin on in metaphors. You don’t see me an’ Jerry talkin in goddamn parables whenever it’s time to drop the anchor chain. A-a-and it ain’t no reason to start dreamin up threats and makin up fuckin history that you don’t share with him!”

“I didn’t make it up! You don’t have to believe me then.” you huffed resignedly, “But for god’s sake spare an eye out for Cal.”

He could see you were in a state about it, and that alone assured him you were not creating a narrative against his partner for mere vengeance sake. Your muddled little mind truly believed your own tale and he knew the Colonel well enough to fully accept that the fellow had probably tried his damndest to scare you off. This had been a long-standing habit, the Colonel running off women who got a little too comfy, domestic, protective of Elvis and he’d been successful up until now.

There were the occasional cases when Elvis himself had finally ground down their patience to nothing, and then they had gone. And that was that. Loyalty to your stalwart, though deceptive, attachment to him made Elvis more inclined to give some credence to your fears, if not your narrative. But it wouldn’t do to be hasty in a judgment of the situation, not with a cotton filled head like his own this morning.

“I’ll look into it, I will.” his tone suggested that this was the end of the discussion, his gentlemanly soothing only serving to drive you near batty with his seeming insouciance, “Now, how bout breakfast?” his grin was bright and you wanted to scream in frustration over it, “I can’t overemphasis how badly I need a half a dozen eggs and some sausages to mop up all that tonic and the maudlin display we just engaged in. Gonna take some grease to counterbalance that shit. Whadda ya say, hmm?”

“I’m not really hungry.” you admitted, watching him in a heartsick daze as he clapped his hands and rose from your lap, the topic of your greatest secret and terror shelved in favor of breakfast.

“Well, that’s cause you’re laced up within an inch o’yer spin. Get up dear, let’s give ya your stomach back.” he wagged his finger in command for you to give him access to your back lacings. “Y-you don’t mind me doing this after…ya know -after last night?” he added very softly when you turned your troubled face towards the window to give him access.

You flung your hand behind your back and grabbed one his own, bringing it over your shoulder to kiss his knuckles.

-I spent most of the night weeping over the fact I could have been a mother at this moment if I’d just allowed you- seemed too heavy a confession after all he had sustained this morning, so you held your peace and kissed his knuckles, savoring his heavy exhale that ghosted against your neck. As he worked on your fastenings you thought of that first night aboard, how tall and strong and virulent he had seemed. The way you’d braced and waited for ravaging, the way he had hummed a hymn instead.

“That first night,” you whispered, cool air hitting your back as more and more of the fancy dress began to slip off your shoulders with each of his tugs, “I thought you were going to take me, every day after I’ve been wondering when you would. And I went from dreading to wanting it. Because I’ve realized I was wrong, you’re no stranger, you’re still you.” the dress fell to your ankles and you yanked open the fastenings of your corset, taking the first full breath since last evening. You used it to tell the him, “I still love you. After all this time, I learned that I still love you, how could I not?”

Not a peep of sound came from behind you at this admission. Strangely this felt like the greatest confession of all, acknowledging you loved him. Peace came with having said it. You shucked your bloomers with more haste than decorum, leaving you in just your shift and turned to face him.

The bow of his lip was trembling in an effort to keep his mouth firm, blotchy red splashed across his face and that old pinched look around his sapphire eyes that betrayed an effort not to let the gathering tears spill. He hadn’t expected love. Not for the way he was now. A sentimental fondness and a perverse interest perhaps. Not love. Captain Presley was as little like the Elvis of your memory as Cricket was akin to Rosey. He had not expected to be loved for it.

“Child-“ he warned in a rough voice, stepping backwards.

“Elvis,” you stepped out of the pool of fabrics and followed him, hands outstretched and latching into his forearms, “I love you, I do, please, please look at me!”

Looking at you was to look at a woman, ripe curves faintly veiled through finely woven linen, cherry dark nipples always peaked when close to him, that mouth he’d taught and that throat he’d used and that face that belonged to a dead girl. He shook his head and turned his face away.

“Elvis, call me Rosey.” you demanded, fingernails biting into the meat his arm and he shuddered from it, “Please, I’m not a child, please don’t muddle this up, it’s me! Me!” you took his hand and tried to pry the stubborn fist open, to bring his hand to your breast in that old familiar way, “Please touch me.” you settled for that, voice trailing off in a whine.

You sounded like a child, desperate and petulant. If he’d just touch you would know you were forgiven. You needed him to touch you. In that way. That particular way that only he had. “You can’t teach me a language then tell me not to speak it!” you accused.

“D-don’t! I know but I-, please don’t-“ his voice sounded so near a whimper when he finally spoke you let go of his arm from pure, maternal instinct that somehow you were hurting him, “I will, if you ask me I w-w-will d-do anythin ya ask, I’ll t-t-touch, so please don’t. Please d-d-don’t ask me that. N-n-not now. N-not yet. Please, darlin. I-I-I just…” he scrubbed his face viciously, “I just want some goddamn breakfast.” he cried out into his hands.

“Of course!” you repented your selfishness ardently, backing away from the bed you’d chased him to in your wantonness. “Breakfast yes, yes, you need food. Rest, too.”

You couldn’t bear to stay staring at his shaking form and those elegant hands as they covered his face, you turned and hauled out the first sensible frock in the wardrobe and a day corset with it, intending to dress and leave him in peace. He had borne enough. And he knew you loved him. It was enough for now, it had to be.

You heard him crossing the room, away from you towards the door and your head swiveled to watch, fretful that he was leaving without another word. He opened the door with lethargic clumsiness and poked his head out again, “Bill, what’re you doin out here?” his tone was full of surprise at finding his friend in the hall, “Be a good fella an’ fetch Rosetta for me!”

“EP, you gotta listen to me, Mr. Schilling sent me to fetch you!” you heard Bill Black explain from the hall, “Says a couple of government officials are aboard and the Colonel's been giving orders to unload half the staff from the boat! Bastard just told me I won’t be needed for the coming trip, something bout not needing a House where we’re going? The hell does that mean? It’s pandemonium up there, boss.”

“You been drinkin, Bill?”

“Wha-? No man, really, all hell is breaking loose up there without ya, been trying to find you for the last hour. Thought you weren’t in here last night.”

“Who gives a damn where I was, none of y’all’s business.” Elvis snapped, “Well go on now, ya found me and delivered your message, go on and tell Rosetta to come down and dress my girl. And if Crudup doesn't have breakfast ready in fifteen minutes I will rethink his position aboard. Go!”

He shut the door with a pointed briskness and thunked his forehead against the wooden panel. He was going to need more tonic in order to endure whatever fresh hell today had in store. His stamina couldn’t take it at this rate. First few hours of the day had shown him that he’d spent that past month violating a childhood friend, how could it possibly get worse? He had a sinking feeling it could.

“You don’t need to bother Rosetta or yourself, I can dress on my own -go eat.” you whispered, already in the process of yanking up your own laces behind your back.

“No you ca-“ he turned round and his expression morphed comically from sullenness to an impressed admiration at the way you managed it solo with practiced deftness.

“I’ve been dressing myself all my life till I came aboard.” you admitted, and you saw his face fall and he rolled his eyes.

“Course ya have.” he muttered before starting to shuck his own party clothes hastily, hopping on one leg and strewing the materials about as he searched for fresh linens, “I want her down here all the same. Want her to keep an eye on you, and I want you to cooperate. You hear me?” he barked, wheeling round on your as he shimmied on fresh trousers -you couldn’t help but notice that he was finally flaccid, “If you’re sorry and if you really give a single shit about me, you’ll behave and you won’t do nothin rash, yes?”

“Yes.” you swore vigorously.

“Swear it!” he insisted, tucking in his shirt tails.

“I swear.”

“J-j-just try to stay outta trouble and d-d-don’t get killed on me, alright?” he begged, as he shrugged on a rather demurely embroidered waistcoat -silver fleur de lis on cobalt this time-, “If what you say is true, then I can’t do a damn thing about it right now, do you understand that? I can’t do nothin, my hands are tied and if I try anything hasty then we lose everything, got it? So if you wanna help, you’ll let me do it my way, test him as I tested you, and you will keep playing your part. Didn’t hurt you to do it all this time, what’s a little more, hmm?”

That stung but it was warranted. Bereft of his touch or the warmth of his spend in your mouth or the explicit admittance of his love, you were left to find contentment in his compliment of your impressive deceit. It would have to do. It was far better than you expected or deserved.

“I understand.” you murmured.

“Good.” he muttered, fully dressed now and with a hand pressed to his stomach as he tried to regulate his breathing. He picked up your dropped pistol from the sideboard and walked over to you, that same stalking gait he had when he came and kissed you earlier, but now he kept a respectable distance. “And keep this on ya,” he said, “just know, if you shoot my friend, ill not only be mad as hell but I’ll be in so much goddamn trouble with the law I might as well turn myself into the police right now, you understand?”

“Is he really so powerful?” you took it with a solemn nod, “Everyone nearly ignored him last night!”

“Liking and being beholden to are two different things, honey.”

“And to which camp do you belong?” you asked with a sad smile. He gave you one back.

“Both, I reckon, never was stupid enough to test it.”

“So he threatens you?” cold and bitter validation settled in your gut.

“He don’t have to.” he raised an eyebrow at you, “I-I-I wouldn’t speak of this to anyone else, but since you’re on the damn warpath and since you already know so much, I-I-I think you know…” his voice trailed off and his eyes flitted away from your face to, “Darlin, you gotta understand, men who’ve been where I’ve been, we don’t pull ourselves up and manage all this alone. Without him I wouldn’t have a cent to my name or the ability to hold my head up in the street. I don’t know how to disentangle that obligation, never wanted to before, not really. And I don’t know how to now, not now that I’ve got all these people who depend on me keepin on the course I’ve set. There ain’t no court of appeal! I’m sending Scotty down to Memphis to free daddy but I’m sending him with a fuckin chest of gold instead of legal arguments cause that’s the only language those damn judges speak. And that gold won’t come without what the Colonel does. And he could skip one month of payin them and arrangin contacts with them and off I go to prison -it’s simple as that, darlin. He don’t need to threaten me, he ain’t my enemy. We’re both two outsiders trying to squeeze the better folk.”

His mouth turned up in a winsome little smile, trying to prompt you to understand, but those soulful eyes were glazed and hopeless. You understood, you truly did, and it made you angrier than you’d ever been. “I’ll hold my peace.” you murmured.

He took a great breath in his relief at your submission and rubbed his eyes, “We’re gonna need him for Daddy and for the case of your Yankee buried in the arbor, we’re gonna need him real obligin and generous, you understand?”

“I’ll behave.” you insisted.

“I-I-I know it’s hard to let go, honey,” he conceded softly, as he stepped away, “but we all done things we regret, even the colonel. Maybe him more than most, but he’s done a lotta good.”

“He gambles the money you give him to do good things with.” you laughed scornfully, “And as for his job you think he does so well -Scotty says he’s keeping your father imprisoned.”

“Sweet Jesus, of course he does, he’s always had a chip on his shoulder over him.” Elvis groaned, “I’ll thank ya to behave yourself as promised, to mind your own business and to refrain from listening to Mr. Moore, ya hear me?”

If the Captain were not so exhausted and hoarse you were certain he would be shouting at you by now, his hands shook by his sides all the same.

A knock on the door saved you from a full outpouring of his wrath or the rash decision to press your point.

“What?” Elvis yelled at the harmless intruder through the door.

“There’s a Mr Binder coming up the gangplank, sir, Mr Schilling told me to send for ya!”

You and Elvis stared at each other with wide eyed horror for a good few seconds upon hearing this, both curious if the other fully remembered all the events of last evening.

“I could speak with him in your stead!” you gasped out, heartsore for him, “You need breakfast.” you added as if meals were not commonly skipped by adults weighted with responsibilities such as his.

“Sweet Rosey.” he murmured and your expression perked up hopefully at the affectionate moniker. He let out a ghost of a laugh at how easily pleased you were, “Nah, nah I’ll handle him, then I’ll eat breakfast. Ya never know, the delightful Mr Binder might have my girl’s pardon with him.” he pointed out cheerfully, though his expression suggested he doubted that to be the case.

You gave him a watery grin in return, feeling a fool for continually underestimating how easily he could multitask, how effortlessly he wore his own mask, provoking you with his unperturbed geniality when he was plotting his own rebellion all the while. It had been so long since you’d had a comrade in scheming, forever trusting only your own company on the plantation, that meekness and trust when the stakes were so dire was hard to manage. But you could see now that while he did not include you into his thoughts, Elvis was not so benign as he appeared.

“Godspeed then.” you commended him, chipper tone hiding the fear of knowing full well that Mr Bidner might be just as likely arriving with an arrest warrant.

Hands on your hips, dressed in sensible cotton with that familiarly brave grin on your face -he thought he must’ve known who you were all this time, just couldn’t stomach it until a month’s worth of gentle touches and cheerful care had somehow worn him down to this magnanimous fool who was about to risk his life to get you that pardon.

#elvis fanfiction #mine #a whole man is hard to find #austin butler elvis #elvis x you #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis presley

86 notes · View notes