#and John :( he’s just so good. too good. it really could be him to and that sucks so bad

[thewalrusespublicist]

omg can you speak more to your latest post about the reverse happening in 1980, I’ve never about the coherence of the narrative actually :O

Yeah an alternate universe would be crazzyy because our main narrator and star witness of the Beatles would be resident shit stirrer … John Lennon.

John

Fucking

Lennon.

The thing with Paul is that he’s kept to a pretty consistent narrative for the past 40 years or so: John broke up the Beatles cause he wanted to move on, army buddies, they loved each other etc. You can criticise it (I certainly do), but it’s coherent. It’s also one that has allowed John grace and promoted love and community as a core message, something that the other last surviving Beatle Ringo is more than happy to support. It works, we get it, it's a good message in many ways.

Whereas John … wooo boy. The only idea we have of what John would have been like is the 70s where he couldn’t even make a narratively coherent sentence.

If you take his comments and put them together, the Beatles break up was because the guys were blokes he got bored of but also the temple he loved too much but also a marriage that had to end but also a mistake in many ways. Simple, right?

And who was Paul again? Oh, well he was his closest friend ever but also someone he was never very close to and a genius but also artistically dead and yeah, he talks to him often but hasn’t spoken to him in a decade and could talk about him for days but also never thinks about him and is his dear one but also a straight and his ex-coworker who he didnt really work with much … wait no fiance/brother that he would do anything for. Whatever emotion John felt at that moment was his new forever truth/cope and that was the shit he was sticking to on record for those five minutes.

 And that’s John in normal factory mode. Now imagine the nuke that would be losing Paul, his Paul. Imagine every extreme feeling and every defense mechanism under the sun all going off at once and right in the interviewer's face like a deranged grief firework show. Then the added mess of Paul being seen as a saint and Paul the person not being there to reality check John’s view of him … chaos. On top of all that, if Yoko is right and John did contemplate an affair with Paul, you think he wouldn’t have spouted that at some point AMONGST OTHER THINGS WE DON’T KNOW ABOUT? 

Trying to work out the whole Beatles saga would be like trying to find Bigfoot but the compass is pointing in every direction and through several detours through an inexplicable amount of orgies, scandals and psychosexual drama.

 Who were the Beatles? God knows, apparently only the best band ever of bffs/coworkers who were so overrated and boring that John couldn’t wait to leave/never wanted to quit. Who the fuck was Paul McCartney? Duh, the most beautiful perfect wonderful genius man who had ever lived, one of the great loves of John’s life whose memory will stalk his dreams and waking hours until his dying day and has seances for on the reg. Oh he's also a sheep fucking devil who was hated and who intentionally and maliciously slept with half of London and wrote 'nogoodsongsshutup' in an evil plot to trick John to make music with him until Yoko freed him from his spell. What was their relationship? ????????? (okay maybe not everything would have changed lol but we would have so many more details on John’s side). There’d be no message from the Beatles tale, no story, no cohesion. Just a free-for-all pile of disparate tales of love, hate, treepanning and heartache to sift through.

In any case, I would love to see the madness that would be their version of Beatles tumblr.

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: thank you so much for all of the love and support for fourteen entire parts of this story ! hugs and kisses, xoxo

Nervously biting your lip, you waited for the phone to answer your call. The wrinkled napkin was even more wrinkled and you hoped that the slightly smudged numbers were accurate to the ones that you have digitally imputed.

A man picks up the phone, asking who this person is calling him for.

"Hi. Can I speak to John?" you say, trying to rid your voice of any type of nervousness.

"This is he. Wait.. I know this voice... Let me think, don't say it. I will get it right....Y/N? Right?" he says.

You chuckle and confirm. He asks you how you've been. Fall is starting soon and your schedule was clear enough to give him a phone call.

"So, I'm really glad that you called. I really think I should introduce you to somebody that you will go crazy for." he explains.

"Mhm." you say as he then continues after he hears your acknowledgment.

"I think you both will go crazy for each other actually. Both of your minds seem to be a lot alike. I showed him your work and he found the other work that you have posted, he like went crazy." he says and chuckles as you join in.

"So. Have you been to New York before?" he asks.

"Never." you say almost in shock. That was the very place you would love to go. Art seemed endless there.

"All I need is for you to tell me you would like to visit and a ticket will be in your email inbox before the leaves touch the ground." he says and you take a moment to think.

Paul wasn't there at the moment, making his rounds with Sam.

"Yes, I would love to but-"

"Good! I'll uh.. keep in touch and I'll see you soon." he says, his voice being much lighter since you somewhat accepted such an offer. He saw so much potential and wanted to introduce you into a deeper world.

The line goes dead as you rack your brain of how this conversation could go.

As the fork clinked against the plate, Paul chuckled to himself as he swallowed his food. He finally takes his eyes that were on his plate and directs them to your pupils.

"You must have to either tell me something or you want something."

You playfully roll your eyes, "If I want something, you know what I would do." you tell him. He gives you a look that makes you blush but you quickly recoup yourself before things go too far off track.

"Don't freak out please." you tell him carefully as your held your own fork.

He glanced at the dish that you served him, it was one of his favorites. You barely cooked it because you expressed how tedious it was. He thought you found the lost time.

"I wont freak out if its bad." he decides.

Knowing you're not going to get the promise you wanted, you nod as you just let the words roll off of your tongue.

"I'm going to New York soon."

"When?" he says immediately back.

"Soon, before the fall."

Smiling a bit but no intent of humor, he is a bit taken aback.

"That's... very close." he says.

"I just found out today while you were gone." you say defensively.

He doesn't say much as he furrows his eyebrows and looks back down at his plate. He's thinking.

"What are you thinking about?" you softly ask as you place a touch on his hand.

"Nothing."

"Liar." you say in a hushed tone.

"How long are you going to be gone?" he asks.

You slowly shrug, feeling a bit shameful for not knowing the definite answer. You felt it was a bit childish.

"And you accepted- wait. Who is in New York again?" he then asks.

"The guy who bought my painting." you explain.

"Oh." he drags out as he scrapes the last remainder of food that was on his plate, bringing it to his mouth, saying it as if he pieced the final piece to a puzzle.

"Do you think Sam will let you go?" you ask as you fold a napkin, over creasing it.

"Sure he would. If hell froze over." he answers.

"Plus, you don't know how long you're going to be gone." he says with his hands out.

Looking down, "I don't know, I thought you would think this is a good opportunity for me." you voice out.

"Y/N, it is. There's just no way in hell he's going to let me go miles and miles away from La Push for god knows how long." he says, if you didn't pay attention, you would’ve missed that there was a hint of somberness in his voice.

Getting up from your seat, his head is now in your arms as you hold it against your stomach. "I really wish you could come."

He doesn't say anything for some time but his arm fits snug around your waist. Once you are about to let him go, he surprises you with, "You're going far. I know I can't go. Can you at least ask someone to go with you?"

You intake a breath for a response but he adds in, "I would feel better knowing someone is going with you at least."

"I can see but..." you say giving him a knowing look. Sam admitted to checking up on Emily while doing errands. It was comical to think they would be able to handle being without each other for long.

He laughs a little, "I know."

"The idea of someone being with me doesn't sound bad, you know. You have to promise me to come with me the next time I go back." you tell him.

He leans up as you lean down, "Deal." he agrees. Instead of shaking on it, you both touch lips on it.

Another day came around as you woke up in bed alone. Covers were tucked tight with you, Paul didn't want you to be cold due to your lack of clothing. The weather was starting to show signs of change. The summer wave is blending into an end. You really had to wear a jacket for temperature purposes and not by fashionable choice.

Sliding it on, you closed the front door as you made you way to return the rest of your checked out books to the local library. You brought the almost finished Wuthering Heights, texting Bella since it was a public place.

"I'm at the library. I wanted to give you something."

You weren't a heartless person. It kind of made you feel bad as you read previous missed texts from Bella, asking you if you can talk on the phone or if you were free.

You tried your best to give Paul the stress free mentality of not dealing with her. Knowing the danger that she was constantly around, you were a bit scared of it rubbing off on you.

She immediately texts back. Not hearing from you in a long time, made her not want to miss an interaction with you.

"Okay. I'm omw"

You waited as you looked around. She didn't take long before she pushes open the clear entry door and have her chocolate eyes searching for yours.

What surprised you was the hug that she gave you. She pulls back with a nervous chuckle, "I'm sorry. I haven't heard from you in a while, that's all."

"Yeah." you say bringing a nervous chuckle of your own. You extend the book in her direction as she softly smiles.

Her smile fades as she notices that you haven't finished it. She echoes her observation.

"You haven't finished it."

"I know. I'm going out of town and I don't want to lose it or anything." you explain.

She vocalizes two tisks as she looks back at the returned book, "Y/N, give it back to me when you’ve actually read the entire thing."

"I don't even know when I'm coming back." you say, bringing your shoulders up a bit.

Her eyebrows furrow a bit, "Did you change your mind? Are you leaving for college?"

You shake your head, "The power of art."

She smiles again, "That's good. I'm happy for you."

"At least keep it until I get back." you tell her, trying your best to convince her.

"No way. You might need it for the trip going there. Wait, where are you going?"

You hesitated as you thought of her immortal boyfriend finding out.

"Y/N?" she asks again when she doesn't get an answer, but cautiously.

She didn't have to know the exact city or place. Just the state.

Her eyes grow big, "Wow. That's awesome. I've never been."

"Really?" you ask her as you both walk out of the library.

As much as her mother moved around, you were surprised.

"Yeah." she says as a lock of hair moved with her fingers to rest behind her ear.

As you walk her to her truck, she then says, "I'm sure Paul is going to miss you like crazy."

"Yeah. I shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

You hear her sigh as you watch her open a cab door.

"What's wrong?' you ask.

She takes a moment, before continuing, "Do you think.. Never mind." she says.

"What? What is it?" you press on.

"I mean.. It would be nice if I got to get away like you. I really don't want to spend my birthday here. Then, you’re leaving." she says with gloom as she looks around.

"But, you get to spend it with Edward. Besides, I'm sure it's going to be all work with no fun anyhow." you say, trying to shrug it off.

She doesn't say anything but you could easily tell she wanted to.

She instead decides to sit in her driver seat.

"I can drop you back off if you want me to." she says, noticing you don't have car keys.

"The air feels good today."

"Y/N, get in." she says.

Your heart thuds almost out of your chest at the thought of her finding out where you and Paul lived. Afraid of the information she would tell Edward, you decide to play with flipping the script.

"What were you up to? I don't really feel like going home. Paul is out right now." you say as you close the passenger door.

"Doing chores. Fun, huh." she says with dry humor but her eyes still light up.

"Very." you say and both share a series of chuckles.

"Do you want to come over?" she offers. There was hope in her voice. Bella hasn't really made a genuine friend, let alone a human friend, enough to ever ask this question. It felt good to willingly ask this question to someone.

You nod. It was way better than explaining to Paul on why Bella Swan knows where you both live.

Driving on the highway, you both soak in the comfortable silence. For some reason, you felt like you had to get inside of this chick's head.

Sitting crisscrossed on her soft bed, your eyes wander around her bedroom.

You caught sight of the pictures that hung up, kids that definitely went to her school. A picture of her and her father. "Cool mustache" , you thought to yourself. Bella being hugged tightly by Renee as you could feel her carefree nature just by one glance at the picture. A long haired boy next to her was muddy as blush was painted on Bella's cheeks with the boy's arm slung around her shoulder. Taking an extra glance, you notice that she was muddy in the picture as well. A picture that stuck out like a sore thumb out of all of them, was the one with the Cullen boy. If you hadn't seen him in person with her, you would've thought she cut him out of a magazine and glued him next to her.

"So, that's why you were in Seattle." she says as realization hit as you tell her the full story of how this opportunity came about.

You nod your head as she chuckles, "Edward was trying to take me to something fancy, I convinced him to let me eat there."

"Wow." you say.

You then change the subject, “What was your first impression of Edward?”

“Perfect.” she says with a blush.

“You both met a school?” you ask. She nods.

“What about you?” she ask as she jerks her head a bit.

You shrug as you shyly smile, “I thought he was out of my league to be honest.”

A small laugh comes out of her throat as she says, “No, same. I still wonder how Edward finds me interesting.”

“Come on, it’s easy. You’re a pretty girl with a…Pretty guy to match. I’m sure this isn’t your first rodeo.” You say to not let herself feel low standard.

She gives you a look, “He’s my first boyfriend. Plus, guys didn’t look my way. In places like Arizona and California, I’m just another girl.” she explains.

You raise your eyebrows a bit at this. Understanding the rush, “Paul’s mine as well. I guess we’re experiencing relationships for the first time…together.”

A small smile doesn’t leave her face, “Okay, I’m shocked at you. You’re so easy to get along with.”

You shrug.

"I still haven't forgot that you told me you were going to let me peak into your sketchbook."

"I didn't forget." you say you say sweetly and a muffled knock appears at the door.

"I'll be back." she says as she gets up. Not thinking anything of it, you stretch your legs out in her spot until she gets back. Except, she doesn't come back right away.

You move closer to the cracked bedroom door as you hear voices beneath you. Almost being a pro at eavesdropping, you don't let your footsteps touch the ground hard under you as you sit close.

"They're dangerous, Bella." you hear a male voice, almost sounding like bells chiming.

"Well, Y/N's not. She's human. Like me."

"Who's dating someone dangerous, Bella. Who loses their temper faster than we do." the voice says, in that same bell like voice.

It was entrapping, it made you want to hear him speak a long speech, knowing you would never get bored. It was unnatural.

"Edward, that’s not fair. Plus, you won’t even explain why."

"What wouldn't be fair is if something were to happen to you." he says and silence fills the air.

You brace yourself to move, thinking he must've figured out that you're listening in, but luckily, he continues, "I know you're a selfless person, but Alice has been dying to spend more time with you."

Hearing her frustrated and impatient sigh, "Edward, I like spending time with people who have the same interests as me. Being Barbie Bella is tiring." she says.

"I know. You can just talk to her." he says.

"I have. I seriously don't believe for a second that you think she listens."

Silence then trickles into the air again as you give up, not even letting your position be known. It seemed like as soon as you sat on the bed, Bella came back in.

"Who was that?" you ask her.

"Just Edward. Are you hungry? I went shopping this week." she says as if nothing happened.

Wanting to know if your curiosity serves you right, you nod. Following her down the wooden steps, the perfect male is sitting stiffly in the kitchen chair.

Glancing at Bella, she opens her mouth, "Y/N. Edward. Edward, this is Y/N."

It was as if he tried to figure something out, as you kept your eyes on him. You didn't say anything. It reminded you of the look of concentration that he displayed when you saw him and Bella in Seattle.

"Hello." he says politely, but something in his actions felt like he wanted to say more.

"Goodbye." you say and you turn to Bella, "I should get going."

"You just got here. Please." she says, her eyes screaming for you not to go. Her hand even takes the extra length to be placed on your arm as you try to turn on your heels.

Sighing, you hated being in uncomfortable situations. You definitely didn't sign up to be a third wheel.

"I'll just be in the living room." you tell her. She's pleased with this.

"Cool. I can um.. Start dinner for Charlie then." she says with a small smile.

Giving her a tight smile you drop it as your back is faced towards her. Flopping on the couch, you press the buttons on the remote. Not knowing what to put on, you just let Animal Planet run its course. You didn't have to think.

The narrator finishes up the showing of the son of a lion being kicked out of the pride. The melodramatic music begins as the son has no choice but to leave and wander along the edges of established territories.

"They do it. If there's potential competition." the melodic voice speaks out, you jump a bit as you didn't hear him come in the living room. Out of you peripheral vision, you catch a glimpse of him as he sits stiffly on the other end of the couch.

You could still hear Bella tinkering about in the kitchen.

"I would say cool but.." you say as you impatiently wait for the commercial break to end.

"All it is, is nature." he says back.

You take a quick look at him. You wished you didn't. The amber eyes stared back at you with so much focus, it was uncanny.

You look away. You weren't afraid. It was just unnerving. His gaze was both pierce and intense. You weren’t used to something like this since the first time that you met Paul.

“Your eyes.” you just say as you watch the screen advertise paper towels, in a volume that you know only he could hear. You said it with such obvious clarity. The last commercial smoothly transitioned into the next animal’s day in a life.

“What about them.” he says slowly but steadily.

“They’re a bit..” you say and then smirk but shake your head.

“They’re a bit, what?” he pressed on but still coated with detectable persuasion.

“Unusual.” you say square at him and watch as his lips purse a bit at this. His eyebrows wrinkle a bit.

You then take your eyes back to the television screen. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything with Bella right in the kitchen.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks with great curiosity as the animal’s day on the screen is paced slow.

“It’s an unusual thing.” you say as your eyes follow the vibrant colors of the safari scenery but to your surprise he chuckles a bit as he coolly says, “Hypothetically, you have something about yourself that’s unusual.”

You go silent as you just shrug him off. He then rises as Bella meets him halfway as she entered the room, her face filled with happiness to see him as she forgets her surroundings.

“Never again.” you sigh internally in your head as you rest your knuckle on your cheek as your arm rests on arm of the sofa. It almost felt more intrusive than Sam and Emily.

“I will leave you both be. Your friend is getting bored.” he says with humor but it was also as if he couldn’t wait to have something pinned on you. The smug smile that he tried to hide wasn’t unnoticeable to you. Bella just looked up to him with longing, but Edward held her close with such delicacy. It looked like a hint of a renaissance painting.

You didn’t expect the look of Edward’s face as he caught your eyes, the smugness slowly died down. It was as if he was reading or watching something in your eyes but you feel very unsettled, casting your glance to just Bella.

Bella then catches your eye and has a sign of remembrance as she then takes a shy hold of your hand as she walks you in the direction of the kitchen.

You felt safe in Bella’s grip but Edward’s eyes burned your skin. He literally watched you the entire way.

“Thank you.” you tell Bella as you politely take a baked treat of hers. She wanted you to try her dinner, but your stomach just couldn’t handle the heaviness of the food due to the lasting effects of Edward. A small desert was passable. It would let you buy time to think of responses if needed be.

She passed your welcomes and you both sit confortably at her table.

“He’s gone and I miss him already.” She says as she chuckles and nervously run a hand through her hair, “Is it like that with you and Paul?”

The fact that she acknowledged Edward’s absence, your tense shoulders dropped as you nod. It was true, you did miss him even at that moment.

Thinking of him, shuddered a wave of confidence through you. You were tired of tiptoeing.

“Do you both have a supernatural connection?” you ask.

She blinks as she looks at you with a wave of shock.

“Bella. It’s okay. I know Edward is not really human.” you carefully say as she still try to peddle through the river of denial.

She stutters out, “How? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are so not leaving me here by myself in this world.” you say to her and it shuts her up.

Her face goes even as she then looks down and then around. She shakes her head a bit as she lets out a small breath, “So, is Paul..?”

You didn’t want to deep dive into his abilities with someone who was dating his opposition.

“Something of that sort. But promise me something please.” you say.

She nods.

“Don’t tell Edward that…I know.” you say.

She nods again but speaks, “He can’t read my mind anyway.”

You make a gesture of not knowing what she’s talking about. She makes it crystal clear. You then wondered, what did he see in your mind? It shouldn’t have been too much since you spoke out to him directly, but you just didn’t know for sure yet.

“Lucky you.” you say as she lightens her mood, feeling relaxed and at ease again.

“I feel like it’s good that we’ve met. I mean it’s nice to know someone who’s like me, a human, who just knows what it’s like to keep secrets. Especially, about stuff like this.” she says with great relief.

You give her a smile as she has her feel of gratefulness.

Her hand stayed on the steering wheel as she looked over to you. Not only did common interests overlap with one another, she liked having you around a lot. You felt bad about the idea of completely cutting her off.

“Text me.” she says as you push open her truck door.

“Okay.” you say back as your feet touched the pavement of the beach parking lot.

Sitting on the rocks, your mind wandered free as dusk began to settle in. You call Paul but there’s no answer. He’s still not home by the time you walk back.

You felt a sense of lonesome, the shower that you took didn’t soothe you. Stealing Paul’s pillow, you clutch it close to you as his faint smell of him dance in your nostrils.

It was very dark but there a luminary light that pushed your footsteps forward. Walking towards it, you felt a strong hand try to pull you back but one hand started to multiply. Soon, hands were trying their best to keep you from going into the light that you were walking in.

You woke up with such urgency, you almost didn’t notice Paul smushed into you. Sighing in relief and tracing your hand on his cheek, he stirs in his sleep. As you let your mind play a supercut of your dream, Paul’s eyes slowly but tiredly blinks open as he catches a glimpse of your unsettled demeanor.

Reaching to kiss your jawline, he makes sure that you’re okay.

You nit pick at the breakfast in front of you. Paul watched your movements without saying anything.

“I think I’m going to stay back.” you say to the silent air.

“What?” he says, as if you were crazy. You don’t say anything as you watch your breakfast instead of eating it.

“Look, you don’t have to take someone with you I was just-“ he starts, but you didn't like the way that his eyes showed how he blamed himself, you cut him off.

“It’s not about that. I don’t know. I just feel like….” you say but sigh out as your shoulders hunch a bit.

“What is it?”

“I really want you to be the one to come with me.” you just quietly say.

He takes your hand. “Believe me, I feel the same.” he says.

Your mind goes to thinking again. You really want to tell Paul that Edward has an ability. It scratches at your brain. You wondered if this was something that he knew. But, the millions of questions would come and he’s been trusting you more. If he found out that you were around Edward to know, things would go back to square one.

“I'm so fucking tired.” he comments. You look up and see that he’s telling the truth. The bags under his eyes show proof of his claim.

The hand that he still had in his, rose to up and your lips place a kiss on the back of his.

"Can we trade places?" you say to make him feel a bit better.

"No way. Let your passion be the only thing that stresses you out." he says seriously. He rises as he announces his departure. Crushing you close to him, you gladly drink him in to the point where he had to be the one to unwillingly pull away.

Sitting at the kitchen table, you doodled in your pad to blow off the thoughts in your head. Barely paying attention to the direction of your strokes. It wasn't until you reached for your eraser, is when you look at the small picture that you drew.

The eyes were very familiar and striking. You tear out the page as you crumble it tight and toss it in the trash. All it did was bring out the memories of what those eyes held. A certain face floated in your head so you tried your best to distract yourself.

Calling Emily, you find out that she’s home. You smile at this. Your smile fades when she then drops, "Kim is here."

Retracting your interest, "Okay, well, I guess I will talk to you later."

Hanging up with her, you figure fresh, cool air should help you take your mind off of things.

You walk outside, the wind blowing as you take your time with your steps. Headphones were snug on your ears as you listened closely to the lyrics. The song, you and Paul’s song, came on and soothed you. You both came a long way since then. Your mind travels as you sit on the cliffs.

As you let the piece of charcoal glide in your small booklet, a quote stuck out to you.

“Hypothetically, you have something about yourself that’s unusual.”

Whatever that means. But what did it mean? Was it just a get back for your comment? The color was unusual. But most of all, you felt frustrated that all you wanted to do was clear your head but your mind kept going back to your interaction with Edward Cullen.

You scribbled frustratedly on the page, cursing for him taking up the space in your mind. It started to slowly turn into bitterness. Even his smug demeanor that he displayed the previous day was even on loop. As badly as you wanted to shake him off, you just couldn’t.

Sliding your headphones off while they were leaking with music, you let out a deep sigh. You definitely weren’t going to stay here and miss out on leaving town.

“Can you please at least come for dinner? I haven’t seen you in so long :( “

You read Emily’s text as you made your way down the cliffs. You were there for a while. Not responding, you just walk to her home.

Opening the door, the aroma of the supper that she cooked, smacked right into you.

Her body soon followed as she hugged you tight. “It’s been so long!” she gushes, happy to see you. Hugging her back, you squeeze her to let her know that you missed her as well.

Sam says hello to you as you touch his shoulder in passing. Moving into the living room, you find Paul sitting on the same sofa as Jared.

Wrapping yourself up with Paul, Jared jokes how a hello to him would be nice.

“Sorry.” you replied with nervous laughter. You didn’t get a chance to talk much after, Paul’s finger guides your face to his as he gets a taste of you.

“The bedroom is that way.” you hear an unpleasant voice suddenly say.

Ignoring it, you didn't even notice Jared telling her silently to stop.

You rise as you take Paul’s hand with you to sit at the eating table next to you.

Thank goodness the conversation was light but you were still silent, besides laughing at Paul’s humorous remarks that he would throw out.

You stood at the sink as laughter was floating out of the living room. Taking the dish out of the soapy water, you began to scrub with a sponge as the headphones softly sang songs in your ears.

With the dishes done, you go into the living room to join everyone.

Your phone drops out of your pocket as you move to sit next to Paul.

Kim moves to pick it up, she steals a discreet look at the notification that came across your screen. This action goes unnoticed as she stretched her phone out to you.

As much as didn’t want to, you mutter out a thanks. Paul moves your body to plop you onto his lap.

“Congratulations, by the way. Paul told us about your upcoming trip.” Jared tells you with a supportive smile. You gladly tell him thanks.

“What trip?” Kim asks. You say nothing as Sam just says, “She’s been a graced a wonderful opportunity.”

“How come no one’s told me?” she questions but the looks that went her way let her know that she couldn’t have been serious.

“Because we didn’t.” Paul impatiently says to get to her to be quiet so he can focus back on the television.

She scoffs a bit as she says, “I’m sure she told Bella Swan all about it.”

“Are you serious right now?” Jared asks her. You felt a bit bad that he was feeling irritated. Noticing the slight change in his normal vibrant self, he seemed defeated and had no ounce of optimism left.

“I am. She drops me for some vampire lover. I’m offended.” she explains.

“Kim, if you’re not going to control yourself, you have to go. We’re choosing peace tonight.” Sam tells her.

Kim sits back with her arms folded like an immature child as the only thing that was left to be heard in the room was the action on the television.

You volunteer to fill the popcorn bowl to escape the tension. You missed being over here a lot and you tried your best to not let a certain someone ruin it for you.

You check your notifications and it was a proposition from Bella.

“My birthday is in a few days and was wondering if it could be just us if you’re still here. I don’t want to do anything over the top.”

You type back, seeing indeed that the month of September had arrived.

“I honestly would have to let you know.”

The microwave beeped as you pulled the hot bag out and carefully rip it open. You shuffle out the contents into the bowl and hold it as you make your way back into the living room.

You hand Emily the bowl as you let yourself fall gracefully onto Paul’s lap.

Paul’s hand had a mind of their own as the darkness hid him circling your belly. Leaning back further on him, you thought nothing of it.

His hips did one smooth shift as your body rolled with him, an electrifying feeling, shot through you.

It was a bold move as his hand never leave the spot he had it placed but you sit up a bit, still feeling him beneath you.

You catch a peak at his face when he stares back at you with audaciously.

“I think we’re going to head out. Paul could barely keep his eyes open.” you say as you watch his face slowly turns into a smirk.

“Aw? Already?” Emily asks crestfallen.

You “help” him up with your hand as he rises from his spot.

“You know the time for tomorrow, right?” Sam asks Paul.

Paul stretches his limbs out as he nods.

It was your turn to stretch the limbs of your arms. Your hands were filled with the wrinkled sheets that were tight under your grip.

Paul’s hands caressed the skin of your back as your body rocked back and forth on his sleek stiffness. It scraped deliciously in your insides as your breathe out as name. His grunts were heavy as he then whispered out, “Shittt.”

He pulls back and emptied himself on the sheets as his hand couldn’t catch all of himself.

As you fit a clean sheet on the bed, you speak out with mellowness, “We shouldn’t do it raw anymore.”

He takes a glance at you as he speaks back, “Why? You don’t like how it feels?”

A heated feeling in your cheeks scorched as you smooth out the side that you tucked, “N-no. I mean, I do.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he chuckles a bit as he tosses a pillow onto the bed.

“You almost came in me.” you tell him in a small voice, you both have been intimate many times but talking about sex with him still brought shy, fluttery feelings.

“I always pull out in time.” he says with confidence.

“It only takes one time. And you didn’t …One time.” you say as you remembered the time when you woke up to both of you still intertwined. You’ve never felt so amalgamated with him. As vice as it seemed, it felt so good.

“I can smell when you’re ovulating.” he says casually and lays back on his side of the bed, looking to you to join him.

“I just don’t.. Want any mistakes.” you tell him cautiously as you cover yourself with the large cover.

“Do you want any mistakes, someday?” He asks as he pulls you to snuggle against his warmth.

“I don’t know. At least, not now.” you tell him with gentle shrug. You then look to him to watch his face, which was full of contentment. “What about you?” you ask him.

“To be honest, yeah.” he says and you feel trapped in his gaze as the honest truth shone through. He then reached over to turn the lamp off.

Early the next morning, you decided to take it easy by staying in. It was raining hard and the wet leaves stuck to the sidewalk and the streets.

It’s been a while since you’ve used your good paint and just went to work on a wooden canvas that you forgot you had. Halfway through making the inchoate, rainy, autumn scenery, you’ve decided to give this as a gift to Bella.

After you spread clear varnish onto your work, you decided to check your email.

A subject message stops you dead in your tracks.

The name alone stopped you in your tracks.

ALICE CULLEN

SURPRISE PARTY INVITE !

Not even clicking on it, you scroll. There was just no way you were going that deep.

Clicking on another inbox message, John had sent your ticket. You check the dates and see that you’re going to be gone for an entire week. You’ve also seen that you were leaving two days after Bella’s birthday. Sitting back with your arms crossed, you look at her gift.

[sissylittlefeather]

Loyal & True

A/N: I wrote something a little unorthodox, but it's been stuck in my brain like a splinter for over a year now, so I had to do it. This is a modern AU where Elvis is in a fraternity. This one is purely my fantasy, but I hope at least a few of you will get a kick out of it. It's pretty entertaining, if nothing else.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, typical smut, kissing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, but also they drink a lot of alcohol and smoke at one point.

Word count: ~4.4k

“Hey, honey, are you new here?” Elvis takes a sip from the beer he's holding in a red Solo cup. He cringes a bit at the taste. It doesn't matter how long he's in the fraternity, he'll never get used to the taste of cheap beer and he'll definitely never like it. You, on the other hand, he likes immediately.

“Oh, um, yeah. I'm thinking of going through rush, so my roommate thought I should experience a frat party as a means to convince me.” He smiles and it almost takes your breath away. How on earth is he so attractive?

“And are you convinced yet?” He takes another sip, but you suppress a giggle. It's obvious he doesn't like what he's drinking.

“Not really. The beer is cheap and the music could be better.” He laughs, appreciating your honesty. He's so used to girls who fall all over themselves to try to sleep with him that your bold truth is refreshing. Setting his cup on the counter, he nods.

“The beer is cheap, I'll give you that. We'll address that at the next chapter meeting, I assure you.” He's kidding, but you don't know enough about Greek life to know that.

“Y'all really talk about beer at meetings?” He laughs.

“Not at all. It was a joke. You really are new here, aren't ya?”

“I really am. I'm not sure this whole scene is for me.” He steps back and looks you up and down.

“You look like you fit in. But you also don't look like a freshman.”

“I'm not. I spent two years at a junior college and this is my second year here.”

“Why are you thinking of going through rush now?” You take a sip of the beer and then set yours next to his on the counter, making a face.

“That really is bad. I need friends. And I've heard it looks good on a resume.”

“Well, you're not wrong about that.”

“Just not sure I'm ready to buy my friends.” He clicks his tongue and looks at you disapprovingly.

“That's not what this is at all. You're paying for opportunities. The rest is up to you.”

“Mmm. That's an interesting way to think of it.” There's a small lull in the conversation, but he's not ready to move on from you.

“What kind of music would you prefer?” He asks and you laugh.

“I'm more of a classic rock girl. Think like Kansas, Boston, the Eagles, Elton John, things like that.” His eyes go wide and he tries not to smile like an idiot.

“You're a girl after my own heart. I agree. But this music is better for a party.”

“Why do you say that?” He smirks.

“Come on.” You raise your eyebrows and take the hand that he offers you, following him out to the dance floor.

“I really don't-”

“Just try it.” He puts his hand on your lower back and pulls you in close to him. Thankfully, the music is loud, so he doesn't hear you gasp a little when he puts his hands on your hips and starts to move you with him to the beat. You've never danced like this in public before, much less with a guy. “You're too stiff. Relax, baby.”

“I'm trying…” He pulls back and looks at you.

“Here, come with me.” You take his hand again as he leads you to the kitchen. It amazes you how many people say hi to him as you walk together. He introduces you to everyone, but there's no way you'll be able to remember all the names. The first time he realizes he doesn't know your name, but once you say it, he doesn't forget it. Eventually, you get back to the kitchen and he goes to a cabinet, pulling a bottle of liquor down from the top of it. “We need shots.”

You smile and nod. That sounds like exactly what you need. He comes up with two shot glasses and pours one for each of you.

“What is this?” He grins.

“Peanut butter whiskey.” Your mouth pops open. You didn't know there was such a thing.

“It's good, I promise. Cheers.” He taps his shot glass against yours and then throws back the brown liquor. You nod and do the same. You're no stranger to shots and this one is actually really good. “I was right, huh?”

“Yeah, it's really good.”

“You want another?”

“Hell yeah, I do.” He grins again and pours two more shots. This time, you do them together and put your glasses down at the same time. “That stuff is dangerous.”

“Why? You feelin’ like you might make a bad decision?” He smirks down at you mischievously. The whiskey is starting to go to your head, so you giggle.

“Mayyybe. Come on, let's dance.” He's surprised, but he doesn't argue as you take his hand and practically drag him back to the dance floor. Truthfully, you just want an excuse to press up against him again.

When you get back to the dance floor, it doesn't take long for you both to settle into a rhythm of grinding against each other to the beat. You start out facing each other, but before too long he turns you and you go to work rubbing your ass against his crotch. You're not sure what's come over you, but it's like you've been living for this moment and you've had just enough alcohol to lower your inhibitions. He holds your hips and guides your motions against him. As the tension builds, his lips find your neck and he starts to press soft kisses just below your ear. For a bit, you reach back and grab the back of his hair as he continues kissing your neck. Before too long, though, you turn to face him. He looks into your eyes for about half a second and then dives in, crashing his lips into yours in a wildly passionate kiss. He pulls your hips in tight against his and you feel his hardness where it strains against his pants. Your arms are around his neck and somehow he still sways a little to the music as his tongue explores your mouth. His hands start to roam as the kiss reaches a fever pitch and he pulls back breathlessly.

“Air. We need air.” You're a little disappointed, but he leads you off the dance floor again and out to a large patio. He pulls a small cigar out of his pocket and you pull out a cigarette. Wrapping himself around you from behind, he lights yours first and then his. You take a drag and lean back against his chest.

“You didn't want to dance anymore?” You ask, wondering why he'd stopped you when he did. He blows out a puff of smoke and whispers in your ear.

“A gentleman doesn't fuck a lady on the dance floor.” You giggle as he kisses your neck before taking another puff of his cigar.

“No? But he’ll fuck her on the patio?” Now it's his turn to laugh.

“No, baby. Not out here either.” You smoke for a bit in silence, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

“What's your major?” You ask, just wanting to hear the sound of his voice again.

“Audio engineering. Yours?”

“English literature.”

“Ah. Music and lyrics. We make sense together.” You're a little surprised that he'd mention anything about you being together, but the idea intrigues you.

“Hey, how does everyone know you?” You ask, finishing your cigarette and turning in his arms to face him. He takes another puff of his cigar, before putting it out and slipping what's left of it back into his pocket.

“I'm the president.” Your mouth drops open.

“You're shittin’ me.”

“I assure you; I'm not. I'm the president of the fraternity.” You laugh a little.

“Wow. I have university royalty wrapped around me right now.” He chuckles.

“That's right. You better enjoy it.” You smile as he leans down and kisses you gently. He's more tender than you expected. You really thought these frat guys all had one thing in mind, but he's so sweet and soft. Maybe it's all an act, but it feels real. You kiss him deeply and roll your hips against his. He moans softly and holds you tight for a second. “Honey, I'm happy to keep just kissin’ you on the patio. But if you want more, we need to go to my room.”

“Sir! I am a lady.” You protest, feigning innocence. He smiles and kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear.

“My apologies, dear. I guess I got confused when you kept rubbing yourself on me.” You giggle and snuggle into his chest in a gesture that's far too intimate for your circumstances, but seems appropriate nonetheless. He obviously doesn't mind as he sets his chin on your head and wraps his arms around you a little tighter. “I'm not usually like this.”

“Like what?” You pull back to look up into his face.

“Affectionate. I mean, I am, but not to this extent. I'm usually more… goal-oriented…” He tries to hide a smirk.

“That's a cute way to say you're usually focused on sex.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Well, I'm just usually not this content to cuddle on a patio, we'll say that.” Somehow, your eyebrows go even higher.

“So you don't want to have sex with me?” He closes his eyes and leans his head back.

“Man, I really set myself up here.” You giggle and he bites his bottom lip, looking back down at you. “Honey, I'd take you upstairs in a heartbeat if that's what you wanted. But if it's not, I'm not walking away. And that's the different part. I'm not walking away.”

He leans into you and presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes and revel in the closeness, confused by how you can feel this connected after an hour at a noisy frat party.

You're in this position when one of the guys sticks his head out the door and hollers.

“Yo, Presley. We're up on beer pong. You ready?” Elvis grumbles a bit and then unwraps himself from around you, hollering back at the guy at the door.

“Shit. I forgot I signed up for that. Yeah, I'm comin’!” He turns back to you and smiles. “You wanna play? You can be my partner. Scotty can play with someone else.”

“I've never played before, but sure, I can try.” You look up at Elvis sweetly. The guy that you're assuming is Scotty laughs, gesturing to both of you.

“Awesome. I'll play against you two.” You take Elvis's hand and make your way back into the party behind Scotty. The guys get the cups set up and fill them with beer and you wrinkle your nose.

“I'm not drinkin’ that.” Elvis grabs you around the waist and kisses your cheek.

“I'll drink it, baby.”

“She has to drink something! House rules. Everybody drinks.” Elvis rolls his eyes at Scotty and then looks back at you.

“I made that rule. I guess I have to follow it. What do you want?”

“Bring me a glass of whiskey and I'll sip it.” Elvis looks at you like he could kiss you and Scotty laughs again.

“Damn, sweetheart, you keep this up and he's likely to marry you.” You giggle to cover up the way your stomach flip-flops and Elvis pushes Scotty's shoulder. He doesn't contradict him, though, as he walks into the kitchen, leaving you in the room with the guys. You make small talk until he comes back with your drink. He hands it to you and then goes into game mode.

“Okay, honey, now just focus on the cups and try to get a nice arch on it. If you feel like you can keep the ball out of the cup by blowing on it, try it. You can swat it if they bounce it and if you make a bounce that's three cups. We get two re-racks.”

“Yeah, I'm never gonna remember all that. I'm not even sure that was English.” He laughs and kisses your forehead.

“Let's just play. I'll help you.” The game begins and you're surprised both at how good Elvis is and how competitive he is. He tries so hard to be patient with you as you learn, but it's clear that he's in hell when you're losing by two cups. They're down to one cup and you have three left and Elvis is about to pull his hair out.

“I'm sorry…” You whisper. He turns and wraps you in his arms.

“No, baby, it's okay. I'm okay.” You pull his mouth down to yours and kiss him softly. He smiles against your lips and relaxes significantly. The guys all look at each other with their eyebrows raised. They've never seen their president like this with a girl.

“Y'all gonna shoot, or just make out?” Scotty asks sarcastically. Without taking his eyes off of you, Elvis bounces the ping pong ball on the table and it goes directly into the front cup. The room goes crazy as the guys clap and cuss and cheer.

“Okay, now baby if you make this, we win.” He looks you in the eye and you nod. You turn and he puts his hands on your hips, pressing himself up behind you. “Just relax. You got this.”

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, open your eyes and shoot. It feels like the ball moves in slow motion as the whole room watches it. And then, to everyone’s shock, it lands square in the same front cup that Elvis's did.

You'd think you had won the Olympics with the way the guys lose their minds. Elvis grabs you and spins you around, peppering your face with kisses. When he finally puts you down, you have to high five pretty much everyone in the room, including Scotty, who gives you a nod of respect. After what feels like way too long, the guys calm down and start to set up for the next game.

In all the commotion, Elvis grabs your hand and drags you back to the living room where everyone is dancing and settles you onto a couch in a corner of the room. It's too loud to talk and between the whiskey and beer, you don't really want to anyway. He's been dying to get his hands on you again and you'd be lying if you said you weren't craving him like a drug. You sit next to him and turn, throwing your legs over his thigh. He tips your face up to his with his finger and looks into your eyes before leaning in to press his lips against yours softly. After a few more soft kisses, he runs his tongue along your bottom lip and you part yours, deepening the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, tasting you, and before you know it, you're straddling his lap, grinding against him as he has one hand in your hair and the other creeping up your thigh, his fingertips under the edge of your skirt where it has ridden up. You moan softly as his thumb grazes your inner thigh, just inches from where you really want him to touch you. He pulls back for a second and just looks at you before burying his face in your neck, kissing and sucking and nipping the sensitive skin there. In this moment, you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and he's overwhelmed with the desire to keep you. It's an urge he's never felt before, but it's strong now as he works a spot on your collarbone with his mouth. You spread your legs wider and press your dripping wet center against his hard cock, moaning with the pressure and friction. Both of his hands run back to your ass and pull you in tighter against him. You whimper as you rub your clothed pussy on him, desperate for more. You've never wanted anyone as much as you want him right now. He moves his mouth back up to your ear and moans.

“Fuck, baby. We gotta go upstairs.” You nod frantically as he kisses you again, his thumb running over the wet spot on your panties. “Before I fuck you right here on this couch.”

“I wouldn't say no.” You whimper and nibble on his earlobe.

“You can't say shit like that, baby.” He squeezes your hips with his hands and then lifts you a bit. “Come on.”

You back off of him and stand up as he adjusts his dick under his belt and then leads you to the stairs. On the landing at the top of the staircase, he kisses you again, grabbing the back of your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to the door at the end of the hall and then kicks it open, slamming it behind himself. You moan loudly as he turns and presses you up against it, rolling his hips so that his cock is rubbing on your center again. The whole time, his tongue is in your mouth, sliding against yours as you kiss wildly. Your hands are in the back of his hair and he holds your ass in both of his palms.

“I need to taste you, baby. Can I?” You whimper and nod as he puts your feet back on the floor and sinks to his knees. He lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach while you roll your hips forward sensually. You've never been this turned on in your life and you're desperate for more of him. He pulls your skirt and panties down and removes your shoes, leaving your whole bottom half naked. “Mmm… let me see this pretty little pussy.”

He puts one of your thighs on his shoulder and looks at you dripping with arousal.

“So pretty.” Without another thought, he leans forward and licks you, pushing his tongue in you as deep as it'll go.

“Fuck. Elvis…” You gasp and moan as he goes to work licking your clit and fucking you with his tongue. Eventually, he brings his mouth up to focus on your sensitive bud and slides two fingers up into you, curling and then pumping them. You feel your orgasm gather in your hips as he sucks lightly on your clit and then licks over it in tantalizingly slow circles.

“I can feel you, baby, you're so close. Let go and cum for me.” You've never had a man bring you to a climax this quickly or this easily before and something inside you reaches out to him as your release hits you, flooding your body with electricity and ecstatic pleasure. He groans, tonguing you through your orgasm as you shudder and pulse on his fingers. The look on your face, the little sounds you make, the way you taste, it all makes him want to do this for you forever. “You're so pretty, baby, so sexy when you cum for me. Was that good?”

“God-fuck-Elvis, yes!” You struggle to make words happen and he pulls back, smiling, his lips and chin glistening. He stands up and strips off your shirt, yanking your bra off and tossing it across the room. For a second, he just lets his eyes run over your body before he reaches out and gently drags his thumb over your nipple.

“So beautiful.” He murmurs, drinking you in and holding you in his mind. There's something particularly sexy about being naked while he's fully clothed. It makes you feel like some kind of nymph or goddess as he stares and touches you softly.

“I want to see you.” You run your hands up under his shirt and he lets you push it over his head and off. He drops it on the floor and you press soft kisses to his chest. Your hands drift to his belt buckle and he sucks in a breath as you undo it and the button and zipper on his pants. It surprises you that he's not wearing underwear when you see the tufts of brown hair in the opening of his slacks. Now it's your turn to drop to your knees, pulling his cock free and pumping it with your hand a few times. He groans and leans his head back.

“Feels good, baby.” He whimpers as you lean forward and lick a circle around the exposed head of his dick. When you pull him fully into your mouth, he damn near doubles over on top of you. Your oral skills are impressive and he bites his bottom lip and moans, trying not to completely lose control. “Fuckkkkk.”

You bounce on his cock and then press your nose into the tufts of brown hair as you take him deep in your throat. It makes your eyes water, but the strangled sound he makes when you do it is worth it. You continue working him with your hand and mouth for a bit until you feel his stomach tense and know he's getting close. That's when you pull back and stand up, kissing his chest again. He pushes his pants off the rest of the way and kicks off his shoes until he's as naked as you are. For a bit, you just stand there taking each other in. You've both had sex before, plenty of it, but something about this feels special and important. Finally, he reaches out and takes your hand, walking with you to the bed. Suddenly, he feels very vulnerable, like this is his first time again. He settles you on the bed and then lies down next to you, running his hand over your stomach.

“I'm sorry. I just got suddenly nervous.” He chuckles a bit and kisses your lips.

“Me too. Why does this feel so…?”

“Important?” He finishes your sentence and you nod.

“Yeah, that's exactly it.” You look into his eyes as he presses his hand to the side of your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek.

“I think maybe this matters, maybe we matter.”

“I think so.”

“I don't wanna fuck you, baby.” Your eyebrows pull together in concern. “I want to make love to you.”

You relax into him as he moves on top of you, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks. He grinds his hips against yours and you feel the tip of his cock on your clit. You moan softly as he rearranges his hips a bit to line up with your entrance. Spreading your legs a little, you grant him access and give him permission to push into you. He slowly moves his hips forward, entering you gently, almost lovingly. You arch your back as he groans with the sensation of your tight wetness wrapping around him.

“God, baby. We fit together like a lock and key.” He rests his head on your shoulder as he fills you fully, stopping to give you time to adjust. But it's not really necessary as you do seem to fit together perfectly. He pulls his hips back, sliding out of you, and then rolls them forward again, pushing deep inside you.

Sex has never felt like this before for either of you. The physical sensations are heightened by the emotional connection you've created in the time since he first approached you. It's happened fast, but there's something a little undeniable about the two of you.

“Elvis… this… I…” You can't seem to find words to express what you're feeling as he picks up a slow and steady rhythm of sliding in and out of you.

“I know, baby.” He captures your lips in a deep kiss and then rolls onto his back, pulling you with him. You sit up and arch your back, swirling your hips around so that you push his dick even deeper inside you. His hands go to your breasts and he squeezes gently before running them down your sides to your hips. You let him guide your movements for a bit and then lean forward, kissing his cheek as he starts to fuck into you from underneath. “Feels so goddamn good, honey. I never wanna stop.”

“I wish you wouldn't.” You kiss over to his mouth and dip your tongue between his lips. His pace becomes more erratic as his body tenses again, pulled tight as his climax builds in his balls.

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum. Can I-”

“Yes. Don't pull out. I'm on the pill.” He nods and kisses you again as his hips snap upwards to meet yours over and over again.

“Shit.” He whispers through gritted teeth just before he slams into you one last time and his cock throbs and twitches, filling you with his release. You lay on his chest and he wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead. “That was incredible, honey.”

“It really was. Elvis…” He looks down at you inquisitively.

“What is it, baby?”

“Nothing. It's nothing.” You look down and he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tipping your chin to look into his eyes.

“It's not nothing. I think I know what you're trying to say.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and it's insane.” You nod and settle into the crook of his arm as he kisses each of your fingertips. At first, you're a little hurt that he'd call you insane, but that quickly changes with what he says next. “It’s crazy, but I don't care. I love you.”

You look up at him with your eyes wide and wet and he caresses your cheek.

“I love you too, Elvis.” You snuggle in as close to him as you can, your fingers rubbing over his chest hair gently.

“Will you stay with me?” He whispers. You think to yourself that he'll never get rid of you now.

“Tonight?” You ask innocently and he nods, still kissing your fingertips.

“Yeah… or… like… until we die?” He says the last part quietly, like he's not sure he wants to hear your response. You giggle and kiss his shoulder.

“Until we die. I like that idea.” He relaxes a bit and kisses your neck.

“Good. Me too.”

******

The End

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

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[millieisawriter]

Too much to handle

micah bell x reader

summary: you find micah sitting alone during jack's return party and decide to mess around with him

wc: 1.4k

warnings: suggestive content

♡the pic in the middle belongs to @missusarthurmorgan and this fanfic was in general inspired by this post♡

pics on the right and on the left are taken from pinterest

The gang had been in a gloomy mood when Jack got kidnapped, and they did everything they could to get him back. Dutch, as crazy and erratic as he is, took the kidnapping very seriously, and a few days later Jack was safe and sound in Abigail's arms. It seemed even as if John started to care, finally taking up the role of the father.

Of course the safe return had to be celebrated. Any reason was a good reason to get at least a little tipsy on whiskey, so no one complained about the idea. At first, all of you gathered around the fire, Jack in his mother's lap, everyone singing while Javier played a cheerful melody on his guitar.

Eventually it got really late, and Abigail decided it was the time for Jack to sleep, against the little boy's protests that he wasn't tired at all. And as the two of them disappeared inside Shady Belle, the rest of the gang continued opening new bottles of whiskey, and the songs got more and more inappropriate, one worse than the other.

You were never the one to shy away from this type of activities. With a bottle in your hand, you shamelessly sang the lyrics, "The ring dang doo, now what is that? It's soft and round like a pussycat. Got a hole in the middle and it's split in two and that's what you call the ring dang doo!"

Javier sat by the table, strumming the melody, and other seats were occupied by Uncle, Karen, and miss Grimshaw. You had to stand, holding Karen's shoulder for balance support, but you didn't mind.

"A dollar for each, and three for two to take a crack at my ring dang doo!" Because there was nothing that could stop you from belting out those dirty lyrics in your not-the-most-sober state.

But as you looked away, your gaze landed on Micah sitting alone by the campfire. He seemed relaxed, leaning back against one hand, a cigarette in the other, and his hat tipped slightly to the side as he smoked.

Ever since Micah became a part of the gang, you never really saw him make any effort to socialize. Even as a gang member, he was a lone wolf. Partly because he chose to, and partly because his aura was so... unpleasant that others just didn't desire to become his friends. And now, even though the campfire was usually the place where a bunch of gang members would sit and talk, Micah was sitting there alone.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the thrill of getting on his nerves, but you decided to abandon the singing group at the table and wander over to Micah.

"Is the lone wolf too good for our little sing along?" You asked, your voice playfully teasing. "You're missing out on all the fun, but I guess it ain't nothing new."

"Not the kinda fun I'd like to have," he scoffed, "you seem to be enjoying it for the both of us, though."

You couldn't help but sigh as you plopped down next to Micah. "Quit being so grumpy, old man."

"I just don't find amusement in singing about... pussycats and ring dang doos."

You watched as he brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a drag. He didn't let the smoke leave his mouth before he spoke again.

"Like, really? Ring dang doo?" He coughed. "Who comes up with these names?"

He was annoyed by your presence. Every time you talked to him, it was too much to handle. In a way you were a tease, whether consciously or not. The tone of your voice alone was enough to get Micah's imagination working. And the fact that you very often chose the dresses that were rather revealing on top only made it worse.

Even in that moment, he found it hard to focus on your face. Not like your pretty face with slightly smudged makeup did any help at all with distracting Micah from his imagination.

"It's just a silly song!" You giggled drunkenly. "Don't tell me you're too high and mighty for the good ol' ring dang doo."

The song didn't speak to Micah's soul. Even if it did, he wouldn't admit it. However, the thing the song talked about was something he could say he had an interest in.

"Doesn't take much to be too high and mighty for a song about how a girl became a whore. Seems to be your personal favorite, I wonder why."

"I just like having fun!"

You took him by surprise when you took the cigarette from between his fingers and brought it up to your own lips. And he took you by surprise when he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he just watched you taking a long drag. And you made sure to keep eye contact with Micah, even if your gaze was a little hazed with alcohol.

And then he was sure. You were doing it on purpose, every time. You were a tease, always giving him enough to keep him wanting more. Like in this moment, when he wished you'd look up at him like that with something way bigger between your lips than that cigarette.

"Having fun, huh?" Micah's voice was laced with slight frustration. He didn't want to take care of it on his own again, or having to pay for a cheap whore just to tell her to shut up so that he can visualize you in her spot. "Does having fun also mean playing with men like they're your little toys?"

You exhaled a cloud of smoke, it lingered lazily between the two of you. "And what if I do?" You asked, smiling mischievously as you tilted your head to the side. "Maybe I just like the attention."

That earned a chuckle from him. Of course you liked the attention, this was obvious.

"Can't say I blame you. But see, that's the thing about playing games... eventually someone has to call the bluff. Keep that up, and one day you'll find yourself in trouble."

"That so?" You teased him further, liking the reaction. "Let's hope one day I'll find a man who can keep up with my games."

That struck a nerve in Micah. He wanted to grab you, and show you how easily he could be that man. "I could keep up with you just fine, but the problem is you're too damn scared to follow through with any of that teasing, ain't ya?"

It wasn't a question you were simply supposed to answer, it was a challenge you were supposed to take up. And maybe alcohol made it just a little easier. "I ain't too scared."

"I'll believe it when I see it." He leaned in closer, enough to make your pulse race.

There was a heat in his gaze you haven't seen before, and everything that was happening outside of that little bubble you and Micah were in didn't really matter anymore.

"And I've been waiting too long already." He whispered, his hand finding your chin, and his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

You wanted to believe it was the alcohol that made you take his thumb in your mouth, tasting the lingering flavor of nicotine on his skin. You looked at Micah through your eyelashes, and he had to shift in spot to hide a certain emotion you woke in him that was easily visible in the sudden tightness of his pants.

He looked at you entirely captivated, letting his thumb linger in your mouth as you softly sucked on it, using your tongue in barely visible movements.

He spoke, "I think you're ready to stop playing games with me."

You pulled away, your mouth making a quiet pop sound. "Maybe I am, or maybe I like to lead you on."

It was infuriating and electrifying, the way he looked at you as if he already knew he could easily have you in seconds. But before any of you could say anything else, laughter coming from the table you had left shattered the tenstion, and you heard Karen calling out your name.

"Come on!" The girl waved at you from the table. "You ditchin' us for Micah?"

You smirked, standing up. "Guess we gotta leave it for another day." You stated, turning around to return to the table. Micah's gaze lingered on you for a long time, even when you were out of reach, his eyes remained locked on you.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Hey, just today I've decided to stop seeing my parents and siblings for an indeterminate amount of time, and to possibly even break off all contact if it has to come to that. They refuse to acknowledge me as the person i really am and I can't keep sacrificing my mental health and me up for that. Will you please pray for me? And if it's not too much to ask, do you perhaps have a bible passage to strengthen me during this time? I still want to stay close to God, because I know the way God created me was correct and good. Thank you

~Micha (they/them)

Hi Micha,

What a difficult, courageous thing you've done. I will absolutely hold you in my prayers; I pray you will find relief in having finally made the hard decision, and continue to live into flourishing.

The Bible story that comes to my mind is a strange one, only told by Mark (3:20-35):

Very early in Jesus's ministry, as he gathers followers and gains attention, his family is apparently very concerned.

Perhaps they know this path puts him in danger; or maybe they just worry about his "lifestyle" reflecting badly on them. Either way, they know they have to "take control of him;" after all, he's clearly "out of his mind" (v. 21).

So his mother and siblings hurry to a house where Jesus is teaching, but it's packed so full they can't get inside. So they send a messenger in and also call for him from outside (vv. 31-32). I can just imagine their calls: "Please honey, this isn't like you! Who influenced you to go this way?" "You're the man of the house, you can't just abandon us to hang out with queer friends and say edgy things!" "What will the neighbors say?"

But when Jesus is told his family is out there calling to him, he answers, “Who is my mother? Who are my siblings?” Looking around at those seated around him in a circle, he said, “Look, here are my mother and my brothers. Whoever does God’s will is my brother, sister, and mother.”

We know Jesus's love for his mother. I am sure he loved his whole family with the infinite depth of God. Yet he risks losing them, says hard words he know will probably hurt, because if they make him choose between them and living out God's will, he has to choose God's will.

We don't know whether he ever reconciled with his siblings; they don't appear anywhere else in the Gospels. Maybe this was their last encounter, not even face-to-face. Maybe his brothers could not abide his abnormal lifestyle and chose to cut him out of their lives.

But we do know Jesus reconciles with Mary, the mother who proclaimed divine revolution as a newly pregnant teen (Luke 1:46-55) — yet who seems to waver now, either out of fear for her son or failing to understand that what he's doing now is the revolution.

But I like to imagine when Mary hears what Jesus says about family, the implication that she is only mother to him if she continues to help him in living God's will, she immediately corrects course. She will keep supporting him, even when she doesn't fully understand.

Sure enough, Mary supports him all the way to the cross, all the way to the grave. They are present for each other, comforting each other through the worst moment of both their lives.

[Jesus even fuses his biological family and his found family together from the cross. Now that he will no longer be the "man" in Mary's life who offers her legal and social protection; and now that he won't be there to love on his Beloved, he offers John to Mary, Mary to John. "Woman, here is your son. John, here is your mother!" (John 19:25-27)

Is that queer or what?? As his final act on this side of the tomb, Jesus essentially makes his mother and lover mother-in-law and son-in-law! ...I can't not think of the AIDS crisis, where dying partners would pass their beloved's care over to surviving loved ones.]

___

Jesus always prioritized chosen family over biological family. A biological relative can be part of your chosen family, but belonging to that family is no more automatic for them than for anyone else.

Jesus shows us that when family fails to support us in doing God's will — in this case, taking up the invitation to co-create yourself with God, to commit your own small rebellion against the status quo, to prophecy resurrection as embracing your queerness brings you to new life — they cease to be family in the way that matters most.

That rupture can be mended at any point, if and when those who did harm seek to make amends — and receive consent to do so. Whether or not reconciliation ever takes place, we seek out others who will celebrate us and support us in our efforts to glorify God with our lives.

___

God of love, Hold Micha close in this time of loss and and changed relationships. Comfort them in the knowledge that this rupture is no fault of theirs, but caused by parents and siblings refusing to embrace all they are, and failing imagine a fuller Kin(g)dom, a vaster love, a more colorful Image of God.

Spirit of courage and wisdom, guide Micah towards those who will delight in all that they are. Help them build a family founded on love, equity, and mutual support. Wherever their journey takes them, make your unconditional love, your unwavering presence known to them.

Amen.

[zeb-z]

jrwi riptide 115

So the elephant in the room. Grandberry traitor. It’s Caspian or John right? Those are the two we know, the two we are attached to, it’s not just gonna be random new recruit #7 out of the unnamed folks they’ve picked up. It’s not that one healer from Joaldo who joined them that I can’t remember his name right now.

John has made it clear since he revolted from the Navy that he’s kept up with the Grandberry pirates, that all he wants is to join them. That could be a flag. The fact that he was part of his own “special unit” or something along those lines before going outlaw. There’s the journal of his they found back at Zero that they never truly read through and tossed after reading the first poem, which might have had definite answers. And this is small, but he was really protective over keeping the pin from Jayson Ferin.

But the block throws a wrench in it, because why would they throw him in their highest security prison and let him freeze? Unless somehow John was sure without a shadow of a doubt they would have come back for him, and they weighed the risk and reward. The Ferin family drama could have thrown a wrench in their plans enough to have thrown away any plans on easier escape. It’s plausible, but it just is too much of a discrepancy. And John wears his heart on his sleeve, since episode zero he has, it’s hard to think of him as the traitor.

Then there’s Caspian, who has been with Lizzie since almost the beginning, from Shadowbeard’s crew. It’s where they met, and they both survived and escaped Shatter Skull massacre together. But that means he was there for the fall of Shadowbeard, and Ava Ferin’s death. And while it’s pretty much said by Lizzie she thinks it’s Ava who betrayed her, with everything else said, and with what Jay remembers and loves of her sister, it just doesn’t quite track. There was an ulterior motive to kill Ava in the same fight, ordered by someone higher up, playing into the propaganda and fear mongering against pirates and pro Raft agenda. And he knows Edyn Tidestrider, he was the one to reunite her and Gillion. He has her number. And she is gills deep in double-triple agent Raft bullshit.

But could he have been such a double agent all this time, since Shatter Skull? After all his blood sweat and tears, all the weight he’s lifted for Lizzie? All the Edyn stuff could easily be a coincidence, considering their Undersea connection. And he’s not quite heart on his sleeve honest as John has been, but he’s chill like that, he’s kindhearted and patient. And after everything, and I mean everything, he’s done - for Gillion especially - giving him his sword, reuniting him with his sister, daily phone calls, teaching him spells and moves, being the first friend especially from the undersea and reconnecting him with their culture - it’s so hard to think of him as the traitor.

There’s proof enough for both of them. But everything considered, with how undercover and long term the black book missions are, how even Jay had been a spy at one point - Caspian makes the most sense, doesn’t he.

[stevethehairington]

okay but i need ALL of the fics that take place during crozier getting sober. like i feel like there is SO much potential here bc it is THEE biggest turning point for him! esp with regards to fitzjames and their relationship. like fitzjames seeing crozier's choice to sober up as this huge defining moment, one that ultimately and unequivocally earns his respect (back, really, because he DID have respect for crozier at first, before he met him. and now he sees that that respect wasnt misgiven, not really). and like the way this choice is what causes the first crack in james' mask around crozier! ugh it's just DELICIOUS.

[good-to-drive]

The thing is that none of the beatles could be trusted to water your house plant for a week. They'd all accidentally kill it, the difference among them lies in whether they would a) admit what they did and apologize, b) replace it with a near-identical plant and try to gaslight you into thinking it's the same one, c) try to convince you the plant died of natural causes and it wasn't their fault, or d) skip town and start a new life in a new country and never speak to you or anyone else from their old life ever again.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

though i eventually got to read some, in earlier years goosebumps books would be the kind of series where i'd just ponder the cover art, and i always liked the drama of the monster blood illustration (the lighting/colors....sure nothing's happening in it but i felt it evoked the drama of "what if you're downstairs and something's upstairs" much like "what if you're upstairs and something's downstairs") like well too bad i guess i never got around to reading i at the time. but as of a recap yesterday i'm surprised to now be at least 90% sure i read part if not all of it, and thinking i hadn't may be due to how kind of nothing happens in it

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, Bruce gentle parenting the fuck out of the Justice League is literally such a funny concept. Like, the only reason it works so well is because of the overwhelming amount JL Daddy Issues; they’re all secretly desperate for some parental affection and Bruce is so naturally a Dad that he can’t help himself.

That gold star thing he used to do with Dick? Where he gave him a little star every time he kept himself safe during a patrol? Same thing works perfectly for Clark. He’s literally indestructible (but Bruce worries) so whenever he comes out unscathed from a battle (which is most of the time) he’ll hand Clark a little golden star sticker. Clark collects those things like they’re priceless artifacts and sticks them on his laptop.

The anger management therapy he did with Jason? Where he’d run through katas (a series of choreographed martial arts movements) whilst doing breathing exercises? Works like a charm on Diana and Dinah. They’re both super powered, so anything Bruce puts in front of her they’ll destroy, so going through a good old fashioned kata before a big mission will help them both focus without risking the destruction of the Watchtower.

The mindful meditation he did with Tim? When they’d sit in silence until Tim’s brain finally trained itself to know rest? It’s the perfect thing for Barry. He’s a speedster so his brain moves at about the same pace as Bruce and Tim’s (though maybe not quite as analytically); the post-mission meditation sessions are the perfect thing to help him calm down.

The art therapy he did with Damian? Where they’d paint memories that brought them pain/loneliness/loss/sadness because talking about it was too hard? Surprisingly, both John and Hal are into it. (Must be a Lantern thing.) Neither of them are great artists, but John paints about his time in the army and Hal about his time in the Air Force. They’ve both lost friends and comrades, have seen the worst of humanity up close, and just can’t always verbalize that feelingly of powerlessness even though their the galaxy’s greatest warriors—but they can paint it.

The silent chess games he’d play with Cassandra? Where’d they’d sit there and pick each others brains without having to say a word, could communicate an immense amount of emotion with the slide of a pawn? Great for Jon. He can’t talk into Bruce’s mind (not without considerable effort) and he can’t really talk to Bruce about everything that happened to him on Mars, but they can sit and play chess until they both have a mutual understanding of one another’s trauma.

All the crocheting he’s done with Steph? Where they’d sit in front of a fireplace in Wayne Manor and discuss their similarly complex relationships with their parents? Loved to do this with Arthur, of all people. They have to get waterproof Atlantean yarn, but the efforts worth the creations they make during Monitor duty, and it’s one of those rare time when Arthur can really vent about all of his troubles leading a life above and below sea, being a king, his love life—anything. Bruce will always listen.

And then, all of the soccer that he’s played with Duke? Where they’d let loose and just be competitive? Cyborg similarly appreciates this, but prefers football, naturally. Now, Bruce is too old to tackle a Mother-Box-Enhanced human, but that doesn’t stop him from covertly setting up pick-up football games on the front lawn of the Hall of Justice every other week.

So yeah. Bruce and his gentle parenting.

[amandabbbbb]

summary: rafe who protects maybank!reader from luke bc jj is too busy finding gold to protect his sister

tw: parental abuse, mention of drugs, rafes sweet but kinda demanding

word count: 526

you covered a shift working at the wreck because kie could never be bothered to take a shift at her dad’s restaurant, too busy running around the island trying to find whatever gold bullshit that john b has got your brother’s friends and him hung up on. you call jj, overwhelmed from the morning of dealing with your father luke’s fit of rage.

“are you gonna be home tonight? dad just bought a bunch of drugs from barry’s and i don’t want to be alone. i’m scared.”

“sis, you know i love ya, but do you want our lives to get better or not? i’m tryna get us out of this hell, alright? so just stay in your room and don’t come out. love ya, bye.”

he hung up before you could squeeze in another cry for help. just as your salty tears fall, rafe cameron motions you over to give him his bill. you wipe your tears away and give him the fakest smile. he orders you to sit in the opposite empty chair.

“are you alright, sweetheart? i heard that. you know, i know your dad’s a druggie dick. i’ve seen him at barry’s. I gotta get you out of that house. i see your bruises. you know all that makeup doesn’t cover it.” he grabs your arm and rolls up your sleeve, showing your bruise from your father. you, flustered, pull away as his tone was demanding.

before you could even respond, kie’s words ring in your ears: “rafe cameron wouldn’t be caught dead eating here, especially alone. he usually spends his time at the country club. to a kook like him, the wreck is a dump. but ever since you started working there, he always sits at the same table almost every day, staring at you your whole shift, and if you aren’t his waitress, he makes a huge fuss. he’s so sweet to you, always.”

“rafe, really, i’m alright. don’t worry about me.”

“stay at mine tonight, y/n. i’ll take care of you.” he sets 1000 dollars down on the table. he usually gives you a 100 or 200 dollar tip but never this much. you barely know rafe.

“rafe, no. i can’t take this. i don’t even know… uh, uh, rafe, i can’t.”

“stop mumbling and take it. your dad spends all his money on drugs and your brother’s too goddamn worried about god knows what to even be home to take care of you. so i’m going to man up and protect you, okay? so shut up.”

that night after your shift, you stay at rafe’s house. he lets you stay in sarah’s room since the camerons are away. for the first time in ages, you finally relax, safe from your abusive father. you fall asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the stress. rafe makes sure you’re comfortable, checking on you throughout the night. when you wake up in the morning, you find a note and breakfast waiting for you. the note reads:

“good morning, sweetheart. had to run some errands. i know we’re very different but i know what you’re going through. stay as long as you need. you’re safe here. - rafe.”

[manapeer]

I'll call my dad

The justice league was in disaray. They had failed to stop the summoning, and already the demon was stepping out of the portal. The last standing heros didn't have the manpower to stop a whole thrall army and the magic users certainly hadn't the power to deal with the demon himself. They needed a plan, or a miracle, or the earth was doomed.

Suddenly, Constantine braced himself, and strode right to the beast.

"Don't step further, or I'll have to call my dad."

The heros were baffled. The demon too.

"Your... dad ?"

"That's right," he was sweating bullets but he continued "I'm John Constantine and Phantom is my dad. He cares a lot about Earth. He will not take kindly your little invading stunt."

"Who is Phantom ?" wispered Flash to Zatana.

"I don't know."

The league didn't know if he was bluffing or not. Zatana had recently heard rumors about Constantine's father, but it was all vague, shrouded in secrecy.

The surprised past, the demon laught.

"Alright," he mocked, "Let see what your 'dad' think of that."

Constantine took a deep breath and reluctantly put out a piece of paper form his inner pocket. As he put it in fire with a spell, the cave they were in was breifly plunged in freezing cold and supernatural darkness. A thunderous ice crack resoned, that they could feel in their chest as much as they heard. The shadows sleethed into the form of a titanesque being, and suddenly big, bright, lazarus green eyes opened. And they didn't look happy.

"John."

He gulped.

"Hi dad."

"It's a school night."

"I know," the magician cringed, "I swear I have a good reason."

Now the being looked downright pissed.

"Damn, I would hope so ! Do you have any idea what time it is ?"

"He wants to destroy the Earth !" defended Constantine almost petulantly, waving at the confused demon.

The green eyes looked at the demonic being, then the leaguers in various states of injuries, then the demon again. The demon didn't seem like he wanted to be here anymore. He was proved right when he received a monstruous fist in the face.

The entity grabbed him by an ankle, threw him back to hell, then slammed the portal shut as if it was a door. Constantine visibly relaxed.

"Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it," grumbled the being. "Anything else you need ?"

"No. And I'm really sorry, I know it's late."

"Just don't make it an habit. See you on sunday."

And just like that, he was gone. Wally had to sit down.

"What the fuck."

---

Hi everyone ! I was reminded of that post a while ago where Danny inherited of Connie's soul and decided it counts as adoption (can't find it now) and this is what came to my brain.

[phantomrose96]

I could say more if I did a proper character analysis here but, for now, I’m just musing on how John Gaius absolutely captures a very specific kind of It’s Never My Fault guy.

And John is SMART and he’s good at talking and so he weaves it in so smoothly and like. His uninterrupted monologues in NtN absolutely make you want to be frustrated for him! That dude got put through the wringer!

And these parts are so Good to me because like, if you pay just a little bit of extra attention the patterns emerge. Everyone external to him and his group is an idiot, and can only be cast as such. And they’re stupid and scared and they Wrongly demonize John when he was only trying to help and wait John what was that part in the middle. Repeat that part in the middle. You did WHAT to the cops exactly.

HE never wants to be the Guy Who Says It. He wants to be liked too much. So he relies on people like P— and G— and A— and M— to say it for him. Negotiating for a nuclear warhead but HE John didn’t really wanna be a jerk about it you know? That was everyone else. The cows the cops the people who die on his compound are all brushed over or mocked. His sleepless mad actions, his raising of the dead, his setting off the nuke these are all just, actions. Unfortunate. Necessary. Of a guy who’s been having a REALLY hard time and has been victimized by EVERYONE and he really just wants to save the world, guys, if you’ll just LISTEN.

He’s gotta be the Funny Guy. Everything’s gotta be a Joke because, oh, was that bad? No, I was just joking, you’re taking it too seriously man chill out. He needs to be Liked he needs everyone to Like him and the biggest injustices he faces, in light of nuclear warfare and the eradication of humanity, is that people are being so mean to him.

And the closest he gets to letting flashes of his wrongdoing through are when it challenges his ego to deny it otherwise. Because he’s Smart and he’s Competent and you need to know and recognize and worship this. He didn’t kill all those cops by accident. “Come on, love. Guys as careful as me don’t have accidents.”

He’s just! He’s so! He’s entirely This Guy and he’s GOD. He’s bisexual he’s depressed he’s an obsessive Funnyman he’s blinded by his own ego he’s immortal he’s never to blame he’s more tormented than Jesus if you ask him and don’t ask the people he’s victimized in ways so much worse and he’s. LITERALLY. MADE HIMSELF GOD. I’m obsessed with him.

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse