#even if i am still salty that they were a thing to begin with

[hazmatmaid]

i know probably nobody gives a shit about it anymore, but i'm high key so fucking glad that Queen showed up in Ch2 perfectly alive, finally putting to rest all those fucking "died in childbirth" headcanons that were rampant back in the Ch1 days to explain where Lancer's mother could've gone if she wasn't present.

somehow that was like the only explanation people seemed to care about, which made absolutely no sense if they were going off of Jevil's "THE QUEEN RETURNS" line.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 05. ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH

a/n: i am apologizing now and a chapter early because this will be the last bit of happiness before the real angst settles in. i'm talking absolute pain. but for now we get to indulge in logan being content and happy with having his honey exactly how he wants. this chapter wasn't supposed to be this long, but i'm feral for this man. so here we are. enjoy the equivalent to a beach episode in a tv show before the real pain begins!

summary: when the world grows silent and time seems to stand still, you and logan find a reprieve in the serenity of your apartment.

OR nasty fucking him all over the small space until he sees god.

word count: 8k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), sloppy toppy to the highest degree, p in v sex, choking, cumplay, spitplay, dirty talk, wade being a peeping tom, just wade, squirting, slightly dom!logan, accidental edging, face fucking, creampie, logan being a freak and his honey matching him entirely.

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He slept. For the first time in near a decade, he slept long after the sun rose in the morning sky. He resided in a vast emptiness of nothing but darkness. No nightmares, no screams, no fear that ate his heart bit by bit until all but a shell remained. Merely the echo of your breaths as you lay sprawled across his chest—naked skin pressed intimately atop his.

The curtains on your bedroom window remained open from the day prior—allowing the sun to stream in. Catching across your face and forcing your eyes to open with a squint of displeasure. You stirred gently, a sigh pressed to the hard chest against your cheek. The one that rose and fell in time with his heart beat.

Surprisingly he didn't snore as often as you expected. The first night he spent in your bed he was rigid. Unsure of where to lay, or how to curve around your body. Now he remained a heavy mass that slumped into your soft mattress, one arm spread to your side of the bed and the other a weight on your back.

Even in sleep Logan was adamant on keeping you right there. Pressed tight enough to feel every shift, every deep and sated breath.

A sore ache built between your thighs as you turned your head to look at him—admiring the way his face was devoid of a frown. After the fifth orgasm (three around his cock and two from his mouth) you had no choice but to shove him away. The promise of more on the tip of your tongue—as long as you got a chance to rest.

Although you were positive if he tried to fuck you right away you'd be screaming. And not from pleasure. The raw pain of your still leaking cunt is what kept you from shuffling up his body to sit on his now hard cock. It stirred against your stomach, pressed deliciously on your warm skin. You could feel it begin to drip, pooling against the trail of hair that led downward.

Moving slowly, you managed to maneuver yourself down his body—checking with each shift to see if he remained asleep. The sight made you smile; knowing he felt safe enough to find some solace in a dreamless night here in your bed. You watched him toss and turn on Wade's couch long enough.

For now he’d get a chance to actually breathe peacefully. His body no longer at the ready for a fight that would never come.

"Pretty," you sighed, eyes trailing down his stomach to the patch of hair nestled at the base of his already hard cock.

A pearlescent drop slipped down the vein, his chest a steady rise and fall even as you carefully peeked your tongue out to lick it up. You froze when his body shifted, a heavy sigh falling past his lips. Waking him up was the last thing you wanted—given the state of unrest he found himself stuck in for two weeks—but the thought of finally getting to taste him kept you going.

The salty tang of him spread along your tongue as you licked at his cock again. This time less afraid of feeling his body shift. He seemed to be on the very precipice of consciousness. But sleep would hold him captive for just a bit longer.

You moaned softly when your lips wrapped around him fully—hand gently holding what you may not be able to fit in your mouth. If last night told you anything, it’s that James Howlett was not a small man. In fact you had proof to uphold that statement. Yet that alone wouldn't deter you from taking him as deep as you could; even if you choked.

The stuttered breath that left his chest made your heart race the further you went. Pulling off quickly, you let your spit drip out of your mouth, coating his length to help you slide down a bit easier. The wet echo of your hand filled the room—his breaths deep and raspy as he started to feel the tendrils of pleasure take hold in his body.

Biting back another whine, you swallowed him down until he hit the back of your throat. Your hand a steady rhythm along what you couldn't fit. He pulsed on your tongue; precum dribbled down the back of your throat. The taste made your head spin—his cum now leaking from your spent cunt. Coating the inside of your thighs with a combination of you and him.

A match made in the entanglement of two universes. Colliding into one another without mercy.

"F-fuck," he groaned, hips shifting forward and choking you on his cock. You spluttered for breath as he caused you to gag—spit leaking down to his pubic hair.

Even through your gasps for air and soft breathy whimpers, he remained asleep. Lost in a dream of you sucking his cock greedily back into your mouth. Eyes overflowing with tears and lungs begging for just a bit more oxygen. He fucked your mouth gently, hips thrusting unconsciously to stay in that wet heat. To feel just a bit more of a white hot ecstasy you helped him chase.

Cupping his balls, you felt your spit coat them in a sticky layer. You wanted them in your mouth. Ached to feel them on your tongue. And with a gasp of the crisp morning air, you shifted—sucking on them with a soft moan of need.

Your hand pumped him rapidly, building his high until there was no denying what was happening. Scraping your teeth along the soft skin of his balls, you felt them draw up tightly. Logan's eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air, his face tilting to see you between his thighs—your chin and mouth covered in a mix of your spit and his precum.

His mouth opened to speak, to give you a filthy comment you'd no doubt feel down your spine. Only for you to take him down your throat in one swift thrust. Tugging sharply on his pulsing balls to draw him right over the edge.

He came with a raw shout of your name, spilling into your mouth with enough cum to choke you. Until it began to leak out around your spread lips—trailing the sticky mess down your hand. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe—head pushed back into the pillow and back arched with the force of his release. And you kept going.

You licked up every trace of his spend with an eager tongue and sighed out moans. A hand yanked you up his body, fingers gripping your chin to keep your mouth open as you looked at him with eyes glazed over—your body covered in a sheet of sweat.

"Share," he rasped, tugging you closer.

Smiling, you cupped his chin and guided his open mouth towards yours. Allowing whatever cum remained on your tongue to drip down onto his awaiting taste buds. The shiver that ran down his body caused you to clench around nothing—empty and aching for this to continue.

He moaned, pulling you in for a kiss that had you clambering into his lap. Your tongue sliding against his and fingers delving into his bedhead of hair. The passion from last night still lingered in your veins. A silent plea for his touch to drag down your naked form; for him to consume you entirely. Yet you remained content like this—in his arms, lazily kissing until you had no choice but to come up for air.

"I can make us breakfast," you murmured, running your thumb along his cheek—your breath a warm caress on his face.

A hum purred in his chest, hands cupping your ass and kneading the flesh with a sleepy grin. "That sounds good."

"Got anything in mind?"

His eyes trailed down your throat to the way your breasts were pushed up against his chest. You felt your nipples tighten at the heat from his gaze. The want in his touch that left you craving for more. Vanessa really wasn't kidding when she told you he'd lock you in this apartment. Ravishing you every way he knew how; showing you everything he learned in his two hundred years on Earth.

"I do," he replied, voice low and thick with sleep.

"Yeah?" He nodded, an air of serenity lighting up his eyes. The sight felt new—unlike the Logan from last night—but you could feel the warmth of it slide down your spine. Encasing you in a cocoon of domesticity that thrived in the afternoon sun. "Pancakes?"

"Mm." Lips trailed along your jaw, tracing the line of your neck with gentle bites that were soothed by his hot tongue. "I've got somethin' else in mind honey."

Heat pooled between your legs, slicking your skin with a fresh wave of arousal. You felt his nostrils flare—your scent thick in the air and drawing out a side of him that begged to take a bite out of your plush form. He wanted to eat you alive. It sent a thrill of fear through his body.

You longed to explain that you felt the very same way about him.

A low growl emanated from your stomach, pulling him free from the shackles of lust that clamped on his neck. The flutter of your heart was only furthered by his soft laugh; hazel eyes now a bit clearer as he listened to the cues of your body.

"Actual food then," he said, tapping your ass lightly to shift you when he clambered out of bed. Searching for the jeans that were thrown to the side.

You tried to swallow the flare of disappointment that soured your stomach and Logan could tell. He knew you wanted to stay there tangled beneath the sheets. Your bodies stuck to one another long enough to cause discomfort. Fuck he'd never wanted anything more. He could sense the danger in letting his heart be filled by you—the fear of this going a different way.

Silencing it was near impossible when all he wanted to do was listen to it.

Pressing a kiss to your furrowed brows, he handed you his flannel. Watching in adoration as you struggled with the buttons. Similar to him twenty four hours prior.

Not bothering with his belt, he walked out into your living room—seeing the trail of clothing left in your wake of need. He gathered what he could, tossing your robe to the back of the couch. His boots placed by the foot of the coffee table. While you stumbled behind him on unsteady legs that still shook from last night's activities.

Pride flared hot in his chest at the sight; his cock twitching in interest at your messy state.

"I can make the pancakes," you announced, trying your best to walk to the stove without your knees buckling beneath you.

He laughed, reaching an arm around your waist to tug you back and into his chest. "I know how to make pancakes bub."

"And if I don't believe you?"

His lips pressed to your ear, teeth biting at the lobe. "I used to be a teacher honey. Who do you think kept those kids fed most of the time?"

"The other X-Men," you huffed, though the smile on your face told him you were more than happy to stay in his arms. "Weren't they professors too?"

"Yeah right," he scoffed. "Jean was considered a fuckin' fire hazard and forget Scott. He couldn't even find the kitchen if he wanted to." He walked you both towards the counter, turning you to sit you on it with a messy kiss that had his teeth digging into your lip—pulling at it gently with a groan. "Storm was better. She knew how to handle the little shits when they came up with strange food demands."

You smiled, curling your arms around his waist. "I like hearing you talk about them."

A flicker of grief filtered through the joy, reminding him of what he once had. But as usual, he smothered it with a puff of air—craving the taste of a cigar between his teeth he could bite down on. Something to let his pain sink into other than you.

"It's been awhile."

"Well you should talk about them. They're your family Logan."

His body went stiff, hands pressed flat to the counter, and you let the words sink into his skin. You watched his mind come to life with old memories long past. Good memories. Ones that involved cooking in a kitchen full of students and jokes with the people he loved most. He felt the weight of grief begin to lift off his chest with each moment of laughter, each piece of love he once forgot.

All the horrors he'd endured buried the good under a wave of bleak nothingness.

To have them back brought a light he forgot once belonged.

"They uh..." He cleared his throat, moving to grab a mixing bowl you stored somewhere deep in your cabinets. You weren't one for cooking often; the dinner with Logan being an exception. "I forgot how it feels."

"What?"

"Havin' them back. Even if it's just through this." He smiled—more to himself than anything—and flicked the stove burner on.

A part of you knew that was the end of the conversation for now. After spending decades avoiding his past mistakes—his trauma that might never heal—he finally felt safe enough to open the door. Even if it barely remained cracked enough for you to peek through. This was him taking a step towards keeping true to the promise he uttered against your lips last night.

The intent of staying no longer an echo of words that held no weight behind them.

There existed—between you and him—a sense of fulfillment that sprouted from the seeds of the you he knew before. A version that was capable of handling his grief, because you shared in it. You mourned his family for one sole reason: they were your family too.

If you could give that to him now, you would. Offering him a place of serenity despite the chaos he lingered in was enough. You could see it on his face—the peace he'd been searching for...now in his grasp. He'd be damned to let even a sliver of it go now.

The scent of batter being poured onto a grill filled your apartment, setting the hunger in your body alight with a new vigor. He moved with such fluidity and ease. As if he already memorized the layout of your kitchen from the last time he was here; his hand reaching for things in drawers you forgot were there. You traced your gaze along his bare back, down the curves and sinews of his muscles that rippled beneath his skin.

Skin you clawed at with need; that ripped beneath your nails and healed over seconds later. You longed to place your mark on his body, to see a trail of hickeys lead down into his jeans. But that remained a disappointment you could live with. As long as he let you try over and over again.

"Careful honey." His hand pressed to the counter, back hunching as his nostrils flared. "I gotta feed ya before anything else can happen."

"I'm not-"

He turned, eyes narrowing at the way your thighs pressed together to alleviate the growing ache. "Then spread 'em."

Your breath grew heavy, eyes lidded as lust washed over your body with a demand you couldn't fight again. The sight of you practically panting at the sight of his grin—so sure that he'd find you dripping onto the marble counter—left you clamoring for some semblance of control. Surely you could wait until he'd finished cooking. You needed food more than him.

But the longer he watched you—scrutinizing every part of your trembling form—began to shift that truth to something else entirely.

"C'mon bub. Show me the mess you're makin'." A whine echoed in the small kitchen as he flipped another pancake onto the plate. "Be good and I'll reward you."

Fuck.

Your legs parted, flannel pulled up, as you revealed the slick lips of your cunt that begged for his attention. A groan rumbled in his chest, his eyes greedy in the way he devoured the sight of you so ready for him to slip right in. The spatula nearly bent in his hand—the smoldering scent of a forgotten pancake became an afterthought as he stepped closer.

"Logan the stove," you breathed.

He flicked it off without looking, the small pile of pancakes slid beside you with a fork. "Eat."

"But-"

The pointed look shut you up within seconds, his hands parting your thighs to spread you even further. Until he was standing before you with intent hammering in his heart. Cutting through the pancakes, you moaned at the taste as it hit your tongue. Only for Logan to drop to his knees—his thumbs pulling you open for your slick to pour out right onto the counter.

"What are you—oh-" you gasped, a hand digging into his hair as his mouth sealed over your cunt with a husky moan.

He watched you while his tongue licked over every part of you. Plunging into you as you swallowed down the buttery pancake—your mouth parted with another heady moan of his name. The challenge was clear enough for you to understand without further questioning. You were meant to eat. As he indulged in devouring a breakfast of his own.

The tip of his tongue flicked at your clit, drawing a whine from your throat—the fork nearly slipping out of your hand. Only for him to grasp it and drag it back to the plate. He stopped, keeping his mouth directly over your throbbing center, yet never touching you. The action was enough to drag even a sane person to madness.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, the burn of tears stinging your eyes as you cut another piece and placed it on your tongue.

He continued with a growl. Sucking at you lewdly until all you could hear was the echo of his mouth moving over you wetly. His thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit, tongue thrusting deep enough to drink down every drop of you that poured out.

Having managed to eat two of the smaller pancakes, you felt the tendrils of pleasure begin to rush through your body—pulling and tugging at each nerve with a familiar heat you'd grown to love. He moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he ate you with a drunken hunger. An urgency to feel you pulse around his tongue.

"Logan I'm gonna-" You gasped, fingers yanking on his hair.

The fork clattered to the counter—your hips dragging along his mouth with a cry as you broke for him. Unlike before this felt like a rush of fresh air. An echo of love that lingered in his tongue, in his promise to keep you. Your chest heaved, legs trembling over his shoulders, and the ache of want still stuck to your skin like the humid air of summer.

He didn't quell your hunger.

He merely lit the match for something stronger.

"Good job," he murmured, catching your lips in a kiss that had you wrapping your body around him, arms twining around his neck. "Mm. Think I found somethin' better than fuckin' syrup."

The skin of your cheeks burned hot as he smiled; his tongue licking at your open mouth. Words were lost as you kissed him with an eagerness that threatened to break you. This is what you longed for. The promise of a life overflowing with small bits of joy. Pieces of a future that echoed with what you built together.

Certainly not a perfect Polaroid, but you supposed that's what made the sun spots so endearing. It captured the truth of what still had to be figured out. The pain that you'd one day have to face head on. But as he kissed you slowly, hands grasping gently at your flesh, you felt certain that things would be okay.

Because he would be there, standing beside you with his hand in yours, ready to face it with you.

The midday sun cast shadows along your living room, turning dark spots into shade you now lounged in. Logan sat at your kitchen table with a plate of food you'd made an hour after your kitchen escapades. The quiet of having him there, watching you with a warmth in his eyes that burned lovingly against your skin, left you craving more of this.

"I like you in my shirt," he said, pushing the now empty plate to the side.

You smiled, leaning against the edge of the table as he kissed your bare thigh. "I like you in no shirt."

"Yeah I bet bub," he chuckled.

The heavy press of his palm to your leg kept you still—even as you continued to burn from an hour ago. You didn't rush him into the act, because if anything you had an excess of time. One more day off from work left you with the knowledge that you would have Logan more times than your body could handle.

He was quickly turning into an addiction you held no intention of kicking. How could you? When the sweetness of him spread along your tongue like the finest whiskey known to man. When you were so devoted to a relationship that barely started to bloom. Yet you felt as if you'd known him your entire life. Your heart was waiting for him to appear—claim you without question—and you could do nothing but respond with a desperate yes.

"Still needy for me honey?" he teased, standing to his full height with a soft grunt, his hands spreading along your hips.

You scoffed, pushing at his chest; even if he did resemble a brick wall. "You're imagining things Howlett."

"Oh it's Howlett now huh?" He nipped at your jaw, smiling at your soft bubble of laughter that burrowed its way into the depths of his heart. "Thought you liked callin' me James."

The breath caught in your throat when his tongue slid along your throat, heat pooling in your stomach. "Logan," you sighed, fingers tangling in his hair to draw his face up.

"That's better," he growled, cupping your chin to connect his lips to yours.

The raw needy ache of last night reared its head in your body, screaming out for him as he licked into your mouth with a purr. One you felt reverberate through your chest and down to the very tips of your fingers. He was yours to kiss, yours to love, and without knowing it you managed to tame the lonesome Wolverine that begged for a hint of your affection.

"Can't fuckin' get enough of you," he mumbled against your neck, sucking at the tender skin as his hands kneaded at your ass. "Got me goin' feral honey."

"I don't mean to."

"I know." He pushed his hips into yours, dragging you along his jeans with a stuttered breath. "'M gonna fuck you."

Your eyes met his gaze—a pool of slick now staining the dark denim he leaked into. "Here?"

He nodded, teeth bared in a ravenous smile. "When you eat dinner here without me..." Tugging the flannel open, he sucked at the top of your breast. "You'll remember me bending you over this table."

No words could counter what he just uttered as if he was reading straight from a novel of your life. His hands guided you to turn around—your palms flat on the wood and breath heavy in your chest. The audible echo of his zipper sent a flare of want through your body. Slick now coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down for him to see the slight shine of it in the sunlight.

He grunted palm sliding along your cunt and jolting you with a shuddered breath. Though he'd already eaten—twice—he was intent on indulging in a dessert so sweet he would go to the grave thinking about it. His cock—hard and throbbing—slid along the lips of your cunt. Coating him in your slick with a soft puff of air that blew across the back of your neck.

"Press your cheek down for me honey," he said softly, hand gripping your neck and guiding you until your back had no choice but to curve—ass presented to him with a soft moan. "There we go. Lookin' like a damn goddess."

"Oh fuck-" you sighed, the ache between your legs now a searing burn that could only be put out by him.

"You want my cock?"

You nodded, a stray tear falling to the table. "I do."

He huffed, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. "Begging so sweetly for me. Can't believe you thought I'd leave willingly."

The comment was more for himself than you, but you mewled for him, hips pushing back into his until the head of his cock tapped your clit. Drawing a high pitched cry from your parted lips still shiny with his spit.

"Please," you gasped, nails scratching along the wood. You'd see the marks later and be placed back into this memory with a visceral shove. As he intended

"I know, I know."

Lining himself up, he pushed forward with a broken gasp—his face buried against your shoulder. The stretch was divine. Last night's pain dispersed the second he slid into you with one thrust, your walls clamping down around him tight enough to choke a moan from his throat. The breathy grunted fuck had your head spinning, another gush of slick pouring out of you until it leaked between you.

Yet he held himself there, panting against your back as his cock twitched inside you. Begging him to move. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, to find something in your mind to latch onto. Yet what remained when he already sent you to the stratosphere? What could you attach yourself to when you were floating above the clouds?

"Need you to move," you whined.

He kissed your ear, grinding against you with a rasped grunt. "So fucking tight bub. 'M tryin’ not to cum."

"But I want you to-"

Pulling back he thrust into you with a stunted shift of his hips—cutting off your words as you moaned. Your eyes rolled back when he began to move in earnest. His hips slapping against your ass and hand bunching the fabric of his flannel to pull you back along his cock. And you took it.

You were reduced to a moaning wet mess when he fucked into you with a growl. Searching for the place that would draw you over the edge with ease. The cry that wrenched from your throat—your body trembling in his grasp—told him he'd struck gold. A smile curved over his lips as he kept that angle. Thrusting into you with a needy growl you heard bounce off the cabinets and walls.

"That it?" His hand gripped your throat, pulling you up and off the table. "That's the spot huh bub."

A sob fell past your parted lips, tears spilling down your cheeks when his other hand found your clit—fingers pulling up the hood to press right against the nerve. A burning sensation began to build in your stomach. Unlike what transpired in the times before.

This felt like more. All encompassing and treacherous enough to split you right down the center.

Your fingers scrambled to clutch his wrist. Unable to discern if you wanted to push him away or keep him there.

Logan merely chuckled, going faster with ease. You choked on your spit, your knees buckling, but he merely clutched you tighter. Keeping you right where he wanted as he fucked you within an inch of your life. The wet squelch of his cock plunging into you only made the fire burn brighter. You swore you could feel the flames lick along your skin—eating you alive.

"Got no words for me honey?" he grunted, teeth biting at your jaw. "Don't tell me I fucked 'em all out of your head."

"Hngg-"

"What was that?"

Nails dug into his skin and a cracked sob ripped from your raw throat when you came. Your walls pulsing around him as something wet gushed down your thighs. It splattered against the table, causing Logan to feel as if all the breath was punched from his lungs. His fingers still moved, spreading the mess and pulling every last drop from your spent body.

Even as he fought to ram his cock into you without mercy—desperate for his own high. You whimpered with each shift of his hips, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open with gasped breaths. And Logan had never seen a prettier sight than this.

He felt his heart clench, breath aching for lungs, as he fucked you through it. Until your body sagged against his with a sigh—eyes fluttering open to reveal your dazed expression. His heart twisted at the sight, cock throbbing with a needy ache he could no longer ignore.

"Y-Your turn," you panted, reaching up with a shaky hand to draw his lips to yours.

"Yeah?" His hips shifted forward and your mouth dropped open. "You want me to fill you up honey?"

The quick nod was all he needed to start chasing the built up high that threatened to strangle him. But the shrill echo of your phone across the table killed him like a shot to his head. He bit back a snarl of rage when your eyes lazily dragged to the face down device. Your heart picking up speed at the thought of who might be trying to contact you.

"I can ignore it," you mumbled.

The temptation to murder whoever was on the other line built up like bile in the back of his throat. But like a better man, he swallowed it down with a grunt. Pulling himself free with a hiss as his cock slapped against his stomach—covered in the sticky white cream that was your cum and aching for a release that would have to come later.

"Might be your work." He tapped your ass, carefully placing himself back in his jeans with a pained grunt. "Go on bub. I'm okay."

A glimmer of disappointment flared to life in your eyes before you were answering without checking the screen. The soft hello barely audible over the rush of blood that blared in his ears. He knew he wouldn't die from this. But fuck if he didn't feel like his body might combust at the sensation of being edged so hard his chest hurt.

"Wade?"

His head whipped towards you—a look of blistering fury crossed his face as he ripped the phone from your grasp. "You motherfucker," he snarled.

"You should really fuck with your knees Log. Save that adamantium skeleton." His voice was light, cheerful, and Logan had never wanted to rip him to shreds more.

"Are you watching us?" Your eyes widened and before Wade could give a snarky response, you were facing the still open window.

Wade stood across the street in his living room, waving with a knife. "Gotta give you pointers peanut. I've never been so hard in my life."

"Oh god," you sighed, covering your face. You reached for the phone; Logan gave it over before he could crush it in his fist. "Wade!"

"Whoa sweet angel! Don't go screaming my name after your man just made you see Natasha Romanoff in the afterlife. Did you tell her I said hi by the way?"

"It's rude to spy on people Wade Winston Wilson." His face fell as Logan snickered behind you. "Now I want an apology. Or I'm calling Nessa."

Though you couldn't see him well, you caught the way his face paled. "Right. I'm sorry. I won't be a perv next time. Even if you do have your window open and are screaming Logan's name so loud they can hear you on Knowhere."

"I wasn't-"

"And for your information FYI, I didn't spy. I just happened to see him and you bent over a table and assumed." He smiled, toothy and proud. "Can't fault me for being right on the money."

In an attempt to control your breathing (so as not to ask Logan to cut off Wade's limbs) you smiled through the flicker of annoyance. He was your friend. The person who was there for you in times when you needed someone. You couldn't really stay mad at Wade—even if the actions did call for the anger.

Especially not when you were still in the throws of recovering from the greatest orgasm of your life.

"I'd say I could do better, but now I'm not so sure angel face. I think Logan's won this round."

Surprisingly, you laughed. "He definitely won this round."

Logan stepped in closer when he was mentioned—his head dipping to hear Wade's voice through the phone. Unconsciously you found yourself leaning into his warmth—your body seeking out the gentle aftercare from the man who held your heart in his hands. His arm went around your waist, lips placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, and Wade groaned audibly in completely disgust.

"Would you get a room. God it's like watching an episode of WandaVision. Only this time it's the deleted scenes where they were allowed to actually fuck." He smiled, fingers forming a faux gun as he winked.

"We all know the robot dicking her down extravaganza exists Marvel. Don't lie."

"Your fault for peeking in on the show Wade," you replied, eyes fluttering shut as Logan fixed the flannel to cover as much of you as possible.

"I get it. I'm an unpaying customer. Therefore not wanted." He sighed, gesturing to no one in particular. "I mean what about those guys? They get a free show!"

"Wilson," Logan bit out, his claws sliding free to cover the top of your thighs.

Another weary (yet dramatic and totally Oscar worthy) sigh came through the phone. "I'll just dance the Lonesome Tango tonight. Don't mind me, taking all of the domesticity in so I can vomit."

You smiled when Logan nudged your cheek with his nose. "Goodnight Wade."

"Hardly good! Ness is out for the day and what about me? Don't I have needs? Am I not just a boy looking at the couple he's going to third wheel someday saying: please save some pancakes for me?"

The gasp that flew from your mouth was loud enough to be heard through the open window as Logan ripped the phone from your ear. Cussing out the man who stared at you with a Cheshire grin big enough to fill up an entire room. He waved, tossing his phone to the couch as he leaned out the window.

"Turns out you are gonna dance again peanut!"

Before you could shout a response, Logan was slamming the window shut with a growl. His claws slicing through the already fragile wood at the base of it as the lock slid into place. The middle finger he offered was all Wade got before Logan was dragging you back towards the bedroom; the decision to buy you some fucking curtains now solidified in his mind.

"Favorite movie?"

He groaned, dragging your legs over his lap as you curled into his side. "I've been alive too fuckin' long to choose honey. Tell me yours."

A wince overtook your features as Logan ran his hand up and down your bare leg—his gaze determined to trace every detail of your face a thousand times over. Hoping that over time he'd find new things to fall in love with. New pieces of you he'd grow to cherish. He settled on the shape of your lips—watching them move with each words you spoke.

"Okay don't laugh at me. It's a good movie." You toyed with his fingers, thumb tracing the spaces between his knuckles where his claws broke the skin to come free. "The Mummy."

His eyebrows pulled together. "Isn't that the one where they...fight a fuckin' mummy?"

You nodded, laughter falling on his perked up ears. "Listen! She's a librarian who gets to go on an adventure and fall in love. I'm an archivist who...well meeting you has been an adventure and..."

You fell in love.

Saying the words out loud felt wrong. Misplaced. Yet you'd never felt something sit in your chest so perfectly and feel like it belonged. Love had always been a complicated formula that felt impossible to crack. After all, no real theory ever mixed well with something so convoluted.

But nothing else could possibly make the same amount of sense with you as those three words did.

Logan watched every thought cross your face; every problem you struggled with now on full display for him to see. He willed himself to say them aloud. To simply let them fall free and settle in your heart with ease. But the last person he said them to now hated his very existence. They held an entirely different heart yet wore the exact replica of your face.

That only seemed to complicate the matter further.

So he pressed a kiss to the space between your eyebrows until the skin smoothed, and pulled you out of the internal battle you seemed to be losing.

"Tell me about your family bub."

You perked up, eyes alight with the joy that lingered from hours before. "My sister?" He nodded. "Oh well she's a teacher. Works at a high-school in the city."

"Guess you were bound to have another teacher in your life huh?" His heart twisted when you laughed, your fingers curling into his hair—toying with the sides without even realizing it.

"I guess so." You sighed, settling against his body. "It's funny, because I'd have never met Wade if it wasn't for her. This used to be her place before she—ya know—got married and stuff. Wade actually sold her the car I borrowed the day I met you."

His hand traveled higher, slipping to the curve of your hip. "Sneaky little fucker," he muttered.

"Although I think nearly killing me in the street is what really made me like him."

Logan jolted, his hand pinching your chin to face him. "What the fuck do you mean nearly killing you?"

The smile on your face did nothing to appease the fresh wave of anger that filled his body. If anything he only felt it eat away at him faster. Like a parasite with no cure. You were so calm about the entire situation. So nonchalant as you explained to him what actually happened.

That alone terrified him.

What if one day something like this happened again? What if the person who would cause you harm was someone he couldn't save you from?

Dread weighed heavy on his stomach like a rock he never intended to swallow. Even as you spoke he could feel the way it pulled at him. Dragging him into a darkness he'd never escape. He endured it once before, swam to the shore and climbed his way out, but to lose you was to put an end to his existence in this universe.

Logan couldn't die.

But he'd sure as hell find a way to if you were no longer by his side.

"I know he didn't mean to almost hit me with his knife. He was aiming for the guy behind me." You placed a kiss on his wrist, right above his pulse point. "Anyways we laugh about it now. Wade calls it fate. And since I met you...I kinda feel like he's right."

The breath caught in his chest. "Honey you got no idea..."

Lips trailed up his arm, sending chills down his spine as you placed kiss after kiss along his body. Right to his chest. Your tongue licked along his nipple—sucking it into your mouth and drawing a stuttered moan from his parted lips. His cock twitched in his jeans, the lost orgasm from earlier now raring to life with each delicate brush of your mouth on his skin.

Scraping your teeth on his pec, he felt his hips shift in an effort to find even a brief second of relief. You smiled at the feeling of him hard and aching against your thigh.

"You didn't get to cum earlier," you murmured, kissing along his jaw, nose brushing his cheek. The slight brush of your hand dipping along his stomach and down into his jeans drew a ragged groan from his chest. "Fair's fair baby."

Soft skin of your palm met his still leaking cock and the surprise that flickered across your face at the knowledge that he'd been dripping all night for you turned his mind numb. His kiss seared your entire being as you stroked him slowly. Logan shoved his jeans down the best he could with you blocking his way, simply to feel your palm drag down his length to cup his balls still covered in your sticky cum.

A breathy whine you never heard before slipped past his lips—his head falling back when your mouth latched onto his throat. Teeth and tongue sucking a mark that would fade within seconds. But catching a glimpse of the purple bruise made your heart flutter.

The wet slide of your hand filled the room with each pump. His hips canted up into your fist, fucking the slick hole you formed around him with panted grunts of nonsensical words.

It didn't build steadily like before where he held the capability of holding out. Now he felt helpless to the burn that forced its through his veins. The tension pulling taut in his stomach.

Only for you to pull away.

"W-What?" he rasped, his eyes flying open to see how you fell back on the bed—fingers popping open the shirt button by button.

"Come here," you breathed, hooking your foot around his hip. "Don't you wanna fuck my face baby?"

His mind went blank. Eyes dazed and mouth open as he watched you smile up at him—mischief shining bright in your gaze. You were an angel sent from who knows where bestowed upon him like a gift. An apology for all he'd gone through.

If the light he saw as he took his last breath was your face, he'd die a happy man.

Beckoning him forward with your hand on his thigh, Logan knelt above your chest. He could see how you longed for him to press weight against you—the feel of your palm against his ass telling him enough. But risking it would never be an option. He knew how much his skeleton as a whole weighed; you would not survive five seconds of it atop your body entirely.

"So pretty," you cooed, wrapping a hand around his cock as he shuddered. "Can I taste you Logan?"

He nodded dumbly, hand cupping the top of your head to keep himself grounded. Only for his soul to leave his body at the feel of your lips sucking him in. The wet heat of your mouth felt like a death to his heart. He'd never recover.

Yet one truth remained ingrained in the back of his mind.

He didn't want to survive.

"Fuck," he breathed, canting his hips down and into your waiting mouth.

The second his tip brushed the back of your throat, Logan knew he'd never last. He was a man lost in the depths of your body. Finding his way back to himself was never an option. You suckled on him with a whimper, letting him slowly thrust into your mouth as your fingers dug into the flesh of his ass.

Moans fell from his mouth with ease; words eventually following suit. "You fuckin' like this huh? You like me sitting on your face?"

Another muffled sound vibrated against his cock. His balls began to draw up slightly—thighs practically numb with the pleasure that consumed him. He sunk deeper, fucking your throat with a wet gasp, his body curving over yours and hand pressing to the mattress for stability.

"Fuck your mouth is heaven." He panted through the flames that licked at his spine, fighting to stay with you. "Gonna make a mess of you."

A jolt of lightning echoed across his skin when your hand slipped between his legs to fondle his balls, massaging the tender skin as tears dripped down into your hair. Whatever sanity he held left would wither away with the tendrils of his oncoming orgasm. But this isn't how he wanted to finish.

Ripping himself away, you barely got out half a question of what he was doing, before you were yanked into his lap—his tongue invading your mouth in a messy kiss. Spit spread across his cheek, but you seemed to get the hint when he grinded up into your dripping cunt.

"I promised to fill ya honey," he grunted, guiding your hand to wrap around his pulsating cock. "I don't break my promises."

With a sigh of his name pressed to his mouth, you guided him to your entrance, sinking down slowly to engulf him into your throbbing walls. A rough noise tore from his throat at the feeling—his body barely giving him enough time to comprehend that he'd been on the edge for far longer than he realized.

"Shit!" His thumb found your clit, working you over with quick circles that had your body curving into his. "'M not gonna last. Need you to fuckin' cum for me bub."

"Let go," you mumbled, dragging yourself up and off his cock. Only to sit back down hard enough to make him go blind. "Fill me up baby. Make it spill out."

His teeth set into your shoulder, claws sinking into your already ruined mattress to steady himself. He clutched you to him with a hoarse shout of your name as he came. Rope after rope of his spend spurted into your waiting body, drawing a soft breathy moan out from your swollen lips. You held him close, lips sliding along his neck, and talked him through it.

"Thank you baby," you sighed, grinding your hips along his lap. "Feels so good. So warm."

The lilt of your words bled with the adoration you felt for him in the center of your chest. The fact that you didn't finish didn't feel necessary when you had him like this. Entirely wrapped around you—face pressed into your chest and soul desperate to brush against yours.

"One of these days I'm gonna die like this bub."

You smiled, dragging your lips along his temple. "Would that be so bad?"

"Mm." Teeth scraped your skin as he slowly fell back onto the bed, taking you with him. "Probably not."

What lingered in the space between was a silence you reveled in. A peaceful kind of calm that created a bubble of warmth for the both of you to exist. Not completely in the world, yet never out of it entirely.

His body practically overheated beneath your skin, but you didn't mind the closeness. In fact, you found that you craved that above everything else. How he held you, allowed you to see the soft side of him that would normally be withheld.

This was the memory you'd hold close to your heart over the years. The one that'd always remain to give you a sense of peace in an otherwise crazy world.

"I'm really happy I met you Logan." The words weren't exactly what you wanted to say. But they felt close enough to exhibit the same emotion—the one that clawed at your heart, looking for a way to break free.

He hummed, dragging a hand down your spine. "Me too honey."

Settling atop him fully, you rested your ear where you knew his heart lay beneath layers of muscle and a cage of adamantium. The steady beat lulled you into a tranquil state. Where time no longer felt real and comfort became your only option.

Oh how you longed to remain here with him. Bound to nothing and no one, but each other.

note: i'm so sorry for what's about to befall these two.

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 2

James Potter x Reader

Summary: After receiving a mysterious letter left under your door, you begin to search for the culprit…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, reader plays hard to get without intending to, idiots in love, potentially a slow burn, oc!friends, lovesick!james x salty!reader, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.7K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Has anyone got any better ideas?” James asked, slumping against the wall of his dorm room with desperation plastered across his face. An hour into the school year and the Marauders were already failing in their attempts to woo James’ crush.

“I don’t know, Prongs. We’ve established that you can’t just approach the poor thing and ask her to marry you, THAT would be a horrible attempt at a relationship. You also can’t stalk her the entire year, that’s illegal.” Peter pondered, looking concentrated in thought. “James,” Remus broke his silence, “You’re a smart boy under that flirty exterior. You get good grades and you know how to write. Why don’t you just write down how you feel and pass it along?”

“Remus…you genius.” James replied with complete sincerity, dashing to hug the boy who might have just saved his chances with you. “That’s perfect! She won’t feel expected to respond, I can say all I need to say without tensing up around her, and I don’t even have to expose myself if she doesn’t like me back! It can be anonymous, yes!” James rambled as he searched his desk for a spare sheet of paper and a quill, ignoring the silent glances his friends gave to one another, teasing him mentally.

A sweet baby blue envelope was retrieved from his stack of correspondence material, lined on his desk as he began to write. “Looks like we don’t need to tell you what to say then, Prongsie?” Sirius commented to the quiet room as all four of them attended to their own business. James hummed in reply, tongue sticking out from his lips in concentration as his eyebrows dipped together. “Just have…to get this…right…” he murmured, pouring his heart out onto the paper.

Not too subtle, but refined, like a gentleman. Not too pushy, but still explicit in his feelings. Anonymous, but hinting at who your new secret admirer could possibly be. A flourish of shifting paper filled the quiet air as James tucked his note into the envelope, finally scribbling your name on the surface.

Stood in front of your dorm room, James shifted his weight from his left foot to his right as he weighed his options. Your uncharacteristic chatter could be heard from behind the wood, though all he could make out were his friends’ names and an unmistakably annoyed tone hung on your words.

“James” you continued, and his heart began to swim laps around his chest. You sounded confused and frustrated as you rambled on, allowing James to take a beat as he collected himself.

Your voice softened, and he took this as his call to action. He slipped the note beneath the door and pursued the safety of his own dorm before he could get caught.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“EHEM! ‘To the only creature I could ever admire,’” Charlie began her dramatic reading of the mysterious note left under your dorm room door. “I have the greatest honour in being met with your stunning eyes, soft skin and quiet personality everyday when I pass you in the hall. The classes I share with you are moments in which my heart flutters at the sound of your gentle voice. The intelligence you hold and your refined sensibility could never be matched by a boy like me-’ ooh it’s a boy!! Ehem, sorry…‘but this is my best effort at showing that I am worthy of your love. I’ve seen the beauty you hold behind those guarded walls and I would sell my soul to bathe in its light. Make me yours, and I’ll give you the moon, the sun, and the stars in the sky.’ Oh! And it’s signed, ‘Forever yours…’”

You were stunned into an impression of a statue, barely showing the rise and fall of your chest. Hope smirked at the deep blush hovering over your cheeks while Charlie caught her breath from her award-winning performance. The room was still, a curiosity lingering in the air as all three of you began to silently ponder, who could this mysterious suitor be?

“Well, it says here that he thinks you’re out of his league- oh, damn! That doesn’t narrow it down…” Charlie joked to ease the tension and a fit of giggles erupted from the surface of your bed. “If it were up to me, dear, I’d start crossing names off of a list!” Hope laughed, though her smile fell as you and Charlie looked at her with faces of realisation.

“That’s what we’ll do.” You spoke for the first time since the note arrived, “We’ll write down every boy who could fit this description and narrow down the options!” You said with a glint of determination in your eye.

“So you’re interested in this secret admirer?” Charlie smirked, though her face emitted a sense of hope. “If he can speak so honestly about all of this,” you gestured to the note, “then I believe his maturity might just be worth it.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Four pairs of eyes locked on you as you entered the Great Hall for breakfast. James was visibly more flustered than the others, but the rest of them were equally as invested in your reaction to the note.

You and your friends sat down with quiet whispers and glances down the table. As your eyes passed over the group of trouble makers they immediately paid special interest to their plates of food. Sirius began to pick at his eggs, Peter at his fruit and Remus stole quick sips from his juice. James gulped around nothing as he stared at his reflection in his plate, willing the bright flare of red occupying his face to fade away.

Once the three of you had moved your focus to a small huddle around your breakfast, the selection of Gryffindor boys immediately returned to ogling. “Can any of you see what they’re doing? Is that a quill in her hand?” Peter questioned. You shared quick giggles with your friends that disrupted the secrecy of your activity. The Marauders couldn’t quite place what you were doing, but they knew it would have something to do with the letter.

“An eye for mischief that one has, Prongs, what a cheeky couple you’d make- Ouch!” Sirius was interrupted by a sharp kick from his best friend under the table, though James’ eyes never left your frame.

Suddenly, your group took on faces of empathy, severity and concern, glancing at each other from your hunched positions. You trained your gaze on the boys who were discussing you, once again causing them to occupy themselves with the activities of breakfast.

After a lingering stare, you shifted back to the safety of your team and resumed your actions with a resolved expression.

“What do you think that was all about- Ow Prongs, what the bloody hell did I do?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You gently opened the doors to the Great Hall, quill and notebook tucked behind your back. Charlie and Hope accompanied you to seats by the Gryffindor table, glancing over the potential perpetrators of last night’s events.

With a final look over your eligible bachelors, you sat down and began to work, sheltered by your friends. “I think this is pretty much the entire male cohort of Gryffindor…” you giggled breathlessly, pondering the dense list of names placed in front of you. Charlie and Hope joined in on your humour, scanning the list to double check your memory, then glancing around once more.

“Oh…um, w-well,” Charlie started, “there is one group we haven’t quite considered yet…” You and Hope turned towards the girl, who glared at you with an uncharacteristically subtle, mental comment. All three of you turned to face the Marauders, who were busy devouring their plates full of breakfast.

Your gaze lingered on each one. Sirius was no match for your intelligence and humility. You were certainly out of Peter’s league. Remus could convey that quiet poeticism that made you blush when the note was read out. James was always unpredictable. He did succeed in classes and he could potentially feel intimidated by your presence, or he could just be a dickhead. Either way, all four boys were, unfortunately, eligible suspects.

You returned to your coven of secrecy, hunched forms plotting over your notebook. You listed the boys below the pre-existing list of Gryffindor inhabitants that you shared classes with. ‘Sirius, Peter, Remus, James.’

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Potions class finally arrived as the sun threatened to set in the faded sky. James rushed to his seat, close enough to you to feel sickeningly sweet without making it too weird. He wasn’t being too weird about all of this, right? No, the note was the right approach.

You drifted airily to your seat a few minutes later, resting on the chair as you retrieved your equipment. James felt his heart fight against his chest, pushing to be released from his lovesick body. A goofy smile captured his expression as he gazed at the back of your head in a daze, eventually interrupted by the beginning of class.

Potions came and went, with James struggling to keep his good grades with you just grazing the edges of his eye line. As the class began to fizzle away, and books found themselves tucked in bags or hugged towards chests, James decided this was his chance. Making his way to the front of the class, he smirked with confidence as he attempted to ask for his grade on the most recent assignment.

As he approached the teacher’s desk, he quickly dropped a folded note on your desk as you leaned into your bag on the opposite side. He promptly began his banter as you returned upright, watching as you curiously discovered the note in his peripheral vision.

“…Potter, you’ll get the grade at the same time as the rest of your class. Have some consideration for my free-time the next time you think to ask.” The professor’s words draw his attention back to their discussion, excusing himself with “Apologies, Professor! Have a good evening!” unusually happy for someone who just discovered they wouldn’t know their grade for at least another week.

As he swiftly moved towards his own belongings, a little bit too cocky for his own good and high on the success of his plan, he met a classmate’s back with a thump.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” He realised who he had run into, your sweet fingers pinching the note you had yet to open as you swivelled around to face him, curiously. “Um, I- I’m sorry!” He rambled as he inched past you, scooping up his belongings and dashing out of the classroom.

Bollocks.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A/N: TYSM for all the support on the first part! This chapter should hopefully move the story along so we can get to the real fluff >:3 As always, likes and reblogs are immensely appreciated! Comment for part 3 <3

[postcardsfromheapside]

I need to be salty for a hot second about people who are upset about aspects of Lucanis' romance.

I'll put everything else under the break for spoilers, but in general, I am so disappointed in a large portion of this fanbase who apparently thought "disaster" meant "romantasy," but also it's in keeping with how a lot of people seem unable to put things in context.

One of the complaints I keep seeing run past is that the scene where you commit to a relationship with Lucanis seems pefunctory, or out of the blue, there's nothing really romantic about it, it's too similar to the platonic route, etc, etc, ETC.

I romanced Emmrich, but I've seen other people's versions of romancing Lucanis. I'm just going to kind of word vomit here, and hope I can come up with something cohesive.

As someone who id's with Lucanis for "generational abuse" and "dumpster fire disaster bi" and "using socially acceptable drugs as coping mechanisms in place of addressing your problems" reasons, it's been really fucking annoying watching the almost deliberate misinterpretation of his character even after Mary Kirby dropped several explanations on social media. It's like a large part of the fanbase saw all that and turned into the "yes yes, very sad...anyway!" meme and went right on fetishizing him...then got mad when he didn't turn into the seductive Dom with wings they were hoping for.

You commit to Lucanis after (what I consider) a very intense scene inside his "mind prison." He's struggling so much internally that Spite wrests control of his body from him in front of witnesses and begs Rook to help them. Lucanis would never ask Rook to do so on his own, he's terrible at asking for the help he truly needs. Spite drags Rook into the Fade Ossuary and demands they free Lucanis from his self-imposed prison. And whether you're a friend or would-be lover, Rook slowly talks Lucanis out of a host of self doubts regarding his family and friends. Can he trust himself not to hurt other people, now that he's saddled with this affliction? Has he disappointed the people he cares about most? Do these new people he's coming to care about actually trust and care about him? The rooms are filled with fragmented thoughts that peter out into regrets. You're literally seeing Lucanis' fractured and complicated emotions.

One of them tore a hole straight through me: "You'd have to kill me...And Spite would die."

You'd have to kill him to get rid of the demon. And he'd regret the death of the demon that's protected him and given him strength, through a brutal year of betrayal and torment. I don't know if y'all remember the scenes in the Ossuary of the failed experiments and the corpses you had to pass to get to his jar of blood. It wasn't fun.

When you break out of the mind prison after helping him bond with Spite, it's intimate and momentous, even on a platonic route. You've seen desperate and lonely parts of him he'd never willingly show anyone.

As you're convincing Lucanis that it's okay to leave his mind-prison, you tell him you understand that it's easier to deal with problems like the Ossuary and Zara than healing and living with Spite, potentially hurting people he cares about. But he wants to. It's Rook's job to help him see a path out, a way for him to make the struggle easier so he can begin to heal himself.

I need to stress: you aren't "fixing" him. You're acting as his lighthouse, regardless of whether you're a friend or a lover. Sometimes people need help. He's still going to have to do the work to get there.

As a friend, it was extremely rewarding to come back to the kitchen and see him doing exactly as I'd hoped: moving on with the business of *living*. He made a nice dinner for everyone he's come to care for, and a special dessert for Neve. Cooking is where Lucanis finds creativity, and comfort, and connection with his friends and family. He isn't very good with words, but he will note everything you consume, and try to make you feel loved by expressing it that way.

Which is why I think it's important you don't dismiss the commitment on the romantic route. He remembers YOUR favorite drink and makes YOU a special dessert if you're romancing him. Lucanis isn't going to get poetic. You've already made him feel raw. You've seen the ugly, embarassing parts of him. What is he supposed to say? Usually it takes Spite reaching through his body to actually be direct. Instead, Lucanis reaches for food, his favorite medium, to try and apologize for inadvertently showing you those things, to thank you for helping him despite seeing what he considers the most shameful parts of him. Your commitment is letting him know that you value him, that he has nothing to be ashamed of, that you understand what he's trying to express with his struggling communication skills, which appear to get better as your relationship progresses from there.

It's weird that some of y'all don't feel that this is heartfelt and important, because you'd rather him act out some sensuous fantasy trope. It's also weird that some of you haven't figured out that many scenes in RPG's can be similar on platonic and romantic routes with tweaks to shade context.

(Also just in case this comes up: cooking is not his "love language" - that whole concept was invented by a misogynistic weirdo and we should remove it from our ideas of communication)

Anyway, this guy is my Rook's bestie and I'll go down swinging for him, you should appreciate the fuck out of him and stop acting like his writer didn't craft a perfectly funny little weirdo who is bad at showing people his tender parts and terrible at interpersonal relationships.

[catcherintheryuu]

𝙲𝚘𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚏𝚝. 𝚈𝚎𝚓𝚒

1.1k words | barely smut

A/N: Just a little something I wrote in collaboration @i-am-lifeform24 and the other writers. Check out the whole thing: https://www.tumblr.com/i-am-lifeform24/755507436706807808/curated-companions?source=share

It falls, droops past the horizon - and now it’s a blackout. It happens too fast for some people with how cooped up they’ve been: surrendering their time to serve others, earning their keep. It builds up. It stresses them, pushes them over the edge of the barricade, set by whomever, to prevent what's currently happening: them careening on the rocks, skin and flesh tearing at the slightest impact as they get closer and closer to terminal velocity - through impossibility and then some. 

And here you are, braving through the settling dusk, arriving only when the moon’s set itself atop your head - smart to procure your services at the dead of night. 

Just like always, you perform one last check of yourself - there’s a certain standard that you uphold to yourself; after all, you are being paid and this is the least you could do for these troubled individuals. 

It rings, the same annoying, unending, and inevitable ringing that started this escapade. No answer. You check your watch - you’re not late - It ticks and ticks. And for some reason, it mimics the scrambling behind the door of your destination. Enter… well, exit Hwang Yeji, ITZY’s - yes, that ITZY’s - group leader and also your most prominent client so far. 

The sight of her prompts you to turn away. “It was me,” she says with the slightest attempt of hiding her chagrin, “I was the one that called for you and… your services.” 

Chalk it up to collective karma but somehow the Hwang Yeji is in front of you in all of her glory. Keep calm. She’s not exactly who you had in mind as your first booking for the night but certainly not someone you’d decline - not like you have a choice to begin with. 

“Ma’am? Miss? What would you like me to call you?” you say as she lets you through the gate. No response. You’d think she didn’t hear you but you were at arms length with her. And so it was, your words have gone on deaf ears, Yeji’s ears as a consolation, but not what you’d call welcoming, so you decide to take matters into your own hands - aka doing your job. “Yej-” 

Her dainty fingers meet your lips - salty and shaking. Yeji pulls you to the walls, narrowly avoiding the lighthouse-of-a-light from the windows. “Look,” she whispers in the most breathy way possible like she’s got a finger sticking through her rib, “don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not exactly allowed to be seen with a man… especially in hours like these.” 

“Yeji,” you take her by her wrists, “colour me rude, but my time isn’t exactly cheap. You should know that.” 

“Of course!” Yeji gets a bit too defensive, accidentally flaring her voice out, “fu-” She mumbles, spits even, as your hand interrupts her expletive, something you didn’t expect would come out so naturally from an idol’s mouth - both the word and bodily fluid. 

“Really? Is this what the Hwang Yeji is capable of?” 

Yeji pouts, craning her neck down, putting her eyes on full display as they take shelter under her furrowed brows. 

“Got something to say?” You’ve laid your hands on her already, albeit not sensually so why not go further - trace a finger on her chin, your nail skating along her nerves, dropping further until you start to thumb her collarbone.  Her jaw slacks and she tries to let a word out, however, you’ve sucker punched her, taken the wind out of her sails - your finger a hurricane that stirs something inside her.

Her string of words - not even - are barely able to make it through, “Y-you… I want you.” 

Yeji is as upfront and direct as one can be, and it still somehow takes you aback. “M-may I ask abou- what about me -” you pause, recompose, “- in particular has got you wanting me?” You’re stumbling on her stairway. 

She goes a step too far - a step too close - Yeji leans, places her body weight on your shoulders, pushing you through her door. She props herself up on your shoulders and whispers, “Are we really going to waste time on this?” Caught up in the moment, you couldn’t help but stare - how this creature of myth nuzzles its way to the crook of your neck, how it looks up at you with this unmarred admiration, the same unquestioned look lemmings have before they go plunging down the cliffs..

Yeji debunks it all - an urban legend - with just her lips, the coming to blows of your lips. She’s kissing you, the soft little tug on your clothes, that little look of a successful leap of faith. It’s needy, messy as her tongue slips through your slack jaw. It’s this heavy intoxication that has you feeling like you’re at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, like you’ve just woken up from a heady herbal mix of a concoction. 

It takes a few minutes - a few minutes of lips locked together, tongues wrapping around each other - before you realise the gravity of the situation. Your lips part, instead you take her by wrists, feeling her ramping pulse, and turn her around, back to your torso. “Is this what you had in mind when you called?” you say, thumbing her jaw.

“Ok, don’t judge,” Yeji starts, pausing for a slight moment of repose, “but I… I was looking for something rough, you know? Some stress relief, maybe? Nothing beats getting thrown on the bed with no regards, have my hair pulled, oh God…” 

“Hell, you could have had me gagging on that cock of yours,” she bundles herself tight into your arms, rubs her dainty ass on your cock, “maybe even filled to the brim with your hot cu- Sorry…”

Two, maybe three, hours ago, this person in your arms was yet to be Yeji, and now you’ve eased yourself into her ribs - being the lingering annoyance that could either get her smiling from cheek to cheek or satisfy her more masochistic side.  

You wrap around her with a tad bit of desperation, perhaps realising that your time is running out. “Hey,” you dip your lips into her nape, “I’m not objecting.” Yeji’s head falls back, “God, you’re cute…” She flushes pink - plum - her ivory-like teeth spilling at the corners. 

She draws the vowels out, “So you’d ruin someone cute? Someone like m-” 

“Yes. Someone like you.” Your eyes meet, and you give her one last kiss. “Fuck - sorry - this is nice but I have other clients to attend to. I gave you an extra hour… just cause, but I really would have loved to meet your expectations. Why don’t you book me again tomorrow?”

“No,” a giggle escapes her lips, “no way you thought I was that much of a cheapskate?” 

“Sorry?” You tilt your head quizzically, brows furrowing.

“I booked you for the whole twenty four hours, dummy.” 

ps: idk why I posted this so late

[alwaysmicado]

Sink or swim

12.3k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 8

WARNINGS: 18+, no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, flashbacks (toxic relationship, bad mental health), mention of miscarriage & surgery, smut (nothing too graphic), Tommy Miller x f!reader SUMMARY: You reminisce about the late-night conversation that changed your life forever. Joel shares a secret. A/N: Guys, it’s finally here!! This part was hard for me to write, but I’m beyond happy with how it turned out. We learn so much about reader’s past and her relationship with Tommy, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to share it with you. Have fun reading (even though it’s a bit sad) and please let me know what you think! I wanna know all your thoughts!! 🤍 Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics.

series masterlist | main masterlist

The ocean stretches before you like a vast expanse of liquid silk, its rhythmic waves kissing the shore with a gentle insistence. The sun, now in its descent towards the horizon, casts a warm glow, painting the water and sand in hues of amber and gold.

You’re perched on a weathered bench, sneakers softly tapping against the sand, lost in thought as you watch the waves roll in.

Dressed in yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt, with an ice cream cone in hand and sunglasses shielding your eyes from the brilliant rays of the setting sun, you blend seamlessly into the serene scene before you.

You appear inconspicuous, just another person soaking up the sun and breathing in the fresh air. No one can see the anguish gnawing at your heart, the tumult in your head, or the pain in your hand that makes you want to scream.

No, no, you look far too calm for that, too composed, too happy.

Besides, what would someone like you possibly have to feel bad about? Seriously. You just love to wallow in your own sadness, don’t you? You haven’t changed at all. You’re still your insecure, annoying, unlovable self. God, even your inner voice is irritating. Do you hear how pathetic you sound? Of course he wouldn’t lov–

Shut up. 

You focus on the waves as they dance and sway, their melodic rhythm a soothing balm to the cruel thoughts echoing relentlessly in your mind.

The ocean’s song, a symphony of calming whispers and gentle sighs you’ve loved ever since you were a little girl, envelops you in its embrace, drawing you deeper into a state of quiet reflection. The cool breeze dancing through the air brushes against your sun-kissed skin, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean and the promise of new beginnings. 

With a gentle tilt of your head, you take another lick of the strawberry soft serve you bought at the ice cream stand near the boardwalk, feeling the familiar comfort of the cool creaminess dance across your taste buds. It’s been a few months since you last indulged in this particular treat, sharing it with Joel after a rough day at work.

As the cold sweetness melts on your tongue, bittersweet memories of that afternoon flood back with vivid clarity. You can almost hear Joel’s infectious laughter as you scarfed down the icy treat a little too eagerly, his eyes crinkling with amusement at your inevitable brain freeze. But it wasn’t just the shared laughter and playful banter that made this memory so special. 

It was Joel’s genuine interest in hearing about your day, about you, his calming presence grounding you and making you momentarily forget all your troubles. He provided you with a warmth that seeped into your bones, a connection that felt effortless yet profound. Like it could be more.

Reflecting on it now, perhaps that should have been a hint that things were more serious than you wanted to admit right from the beginning. Oh well, dwelling on it is futile now. Because you did finally admit it, didn’t you? And not only that, you basically shouted your feelings from the rooftops last night, laying your soul bare.

Fucking embarrassing.

How are you supposed to come back from that? How are you supposed to ever look into Joel’s eyes again? 

There’s a reason why you stopped psychotherapy after a few months, there’s a reason why you don’t have any close friends beside Tommy, there’s a reason why your dating life has consisted of a series of superficial hookups over the past couple of years.

“Fear of intimacy,” your therapist called it. “A response to sustained trauma.”

You walked out of that session and, fueled by defiance, decided to fuck the first guy who caught your eye, just to prove to yourself, and to your therapist, that you were very well capable of intimacy.

Lying in bed that night, lonely and empty, you couldn’t shake the truth of her words. You hated her guts for forcing you to confront your inner demons, but she did have a point in everything she said.

It’s an uncomfortable truth.

There’s nothing in the world you fear more than people knowing what’s going on inside your head, knowing what you feel, knowing your vulnerabilities and weaknesses—knowing the real you.

And last night, that fear came true.

Your innermost thoughts and feelings were on display for Joel to see, leaving you exposed and raw. The memory of your outburst, of his shocked face, weighs heavily on your mind and heart, filling you with a deep sense of shame and regret.

For a moment in that bathroom, you felt yourself transported back to all the times you’d scream at Simon for whatever he did to fuck with your feelings that day, just for him to laugh in your face or call you manipulative when you’d inevitably start crying tears of hurt and frustration. 

Does Joel see you differently now, knowing the depths of your insecurities? Will he even want to look you in the eye after witnessing what the real you is like? Have you lost your chance with him, and, did you ever even have one?

You sigh deeply and lick around the top of the ice cream cone to catch the drops threatening to run down, humming at the deliciousness.

You haven’t eaten anything else today, too nauseous from your meds and the knot in the pit of your stomach to find food appetizing. You haven’t slept for more than two consecutive hours, too agitated to find any real peace. You also couldn’t stay home this morning, as your apartment suddenly felt like a cage threatening to suffocate you.

Instead, you’ve spent your day off window shopping, aimlessly wandering from one coffee shop to another, your hands now jittery from too much caffeine on an empty stomach. You’ve ambled down the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds surrounding you, before finding yourself drawn to the familiar comfort of the ocean.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the display on your phone lighting up with Joel’s name, the device resting on the bench beside you alongside your bag.

You know you’ll have to take his calls and talk to him like an adult at some point. And you will. But this moment, this moment right here, belongs to you and your thoughts alone.

And to the hermit crab making its way through the sand just a few feet away from you. Your lips curl into a smile as you watch the determined little creature, impressed by its resilience in such an unforgiving world. Maybe you would’ve been happier if you’d been born as a hermit crab. Who knows.

As you swallow the last bit of your cone and lean back, feeling the sun’s gentle warmth on your skin, you can’t help but think of the first time you found yourself on this bench, watching the sunset. It feels like that was an entire lifetime ago, and yet, you vividly remember the overwhelming exhaustion that weighed you down, the sense of loneliness that engulfed you—how utterly lost you felt.

You allow your thoughts to drift, captivated by the soothing cadence of the waves lapping against the shore.

Three years earlier

The sun is down.

Staring into the void, you’re consumed by solitude, the cool breeze coming from the water a thin barrier against the weight pressing on your shoulders. The world seems distant, the murmur of the ocean a mere backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your troubled mind and the beat of your empty heart.

This is it. This is where you were always supposed to be.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, quietly drifting through the corners of your memory. With each passing moment, you meticulously comb through the fragments of the past few months. They offer no solace, only a stark reminder of how you reached this point.

In the stillness of the evening, you find a strange sense of calm, a numbness that dulls the edges of your emotions. Tears refuse to come, leaving only the echo of relief at the resolution of it all.

You open your eyes again, fixating on the endless mirror of the sky before you. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart. The salty tang in the air, the rhythmic melody of the waves, the laughter of birds mingling with the gentle lull of the breeze—everything.

You dig your naked toes into the sand, relishing the connection to the earth beneath you. The sensation is grounding, peaceful, almost–

“Hey there, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

A man’s voice, rugged yet gentle, breaks through the silence, interrupting your thoughts. His words dance in the air, pulling you reluctantly back to the present.

Are you kidding me?

With a slow and deliberate movement, you lift your gaze from the horizon, meeting the eyes of the stranger who has disrupted the sanctuary of your thoughts. You rest your elbows on your knees and sigh deeply.

“Oh my fucking god,” you murmur, rubbing your temples in annoyance and disbelief. “The sun’s been down for two minutes, and the first creep’s already here.”

“Wha–” 

You look up at him. “Do you have like a radar or something where you get a notification every time a woman sits alone on a bench somewhere?”

The dark-haired man blinks in surprise, his expression caught between confusion and amusement. His brow furrows, his mouth slightly agape as he processes your words. After a moment of absorbing your outlandish accusation, his lips curve into a wry smile.

“Darlin’, I’m just–”

“Look, dude. If you’re here to murder me, could you at least spare me the whole blah blah you’ve got planned and just do it? Thank you.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s not entirely sure if you’re joking, but your sarcastic tone tells him you’re at least not scared of him.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I assure you I got no such plans. Just thought I’d check in on a fellow soul contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his attempt at humor. “Yeah, well, I prefer to contemplate in peace.”

When he doesn’t budge and just…stares at you with those big, dark eyes of his, you take a moment to size him up. 

Your gaze drifts down from his eyes, tracing the contours of his muscular chest visible beneath a fitted white t-shirt. It lingers briefly on the obnoxiously large belt buckle adorning his waist, then travels down the length of his denim-clad legs to his cowboy boots. Despite the surreal encounter, you can’t help but notice how incredibly attractive he is. 

God, what’s wrong with you?

“Look, sweetheart,” he says calmly, his voice a blend of warmth and reassurance. “I’m not trying to get into your business or anything, but it’s gonna get pretty chilly out here soon.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks. “We could go grab a bite to eat if you want, and my place is right arou–”

“How subtle,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’m not going home with you, dude.”

“Fair enough, but at least let me call you a cab and wait with you until it arrives, hm?”

His soft voice and patronizing tone are starting to grate on your already frayed nerves. You’ve been sitting here, not taking up any space, minding your own fucking business, and even that wasn’t good enough, apparently.

Okay, world. Hint taken. 

“What the hell is your problem?” you blurt out. 

“What do you mean? I’m just–I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” The question bursts from your lips like a dam breaking under pressure, laced with frustration. “Do you see me holding up a sign where I’m asking for your help? Huh? Or is this more about you and some, I dunno, bullshit white knight fantasy you’re acting out?” 

Your eyes narrow, fixing on him with a challenging glare, daring him to justify his intrusion into your solitude.

“No,” he responds calmly, his furrowed brow adding gravity to his words. “It’s because I’ve seen enough shit in my life to recognize when someone’s in need.”

The sincerity in his gaze catches you off guard, rendering you momentarily speechless. It’s as if this…stranger is peering into the depths of your soul, seeing past the walls you’ve erected to protect yourself. 

His face softens, the lines around his eyes relaxing as he meets yours. “Mind if I take a seat?”

You shrug indifferently, though a flicker of curiosity dances behind your eyes. “Suit yourself.”

He smiles warmly as he settles beside you. “I’m Tommy, by the way,” he offers, extending a hand. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually, you decide to reciprocate by telling him your name and shaking his hand with a soft sigh.

As his hand envelops yours, there’s a brief surge of something unspoken deep inside you, a connection allowing two disparate souls to briefly intertwine before returning to their separate paths again as soon as he lets go.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, darlin’,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, his mustache curling slightly as he smiles at you.

The faint scent of his cologne drifts towards you, mixing with the salty aroma of the sea air. As you gaze at him, your eyes trace the lines etched around his eyes and mouth, evidence of a life fully lived. Strangely, there’s something comforting about his presence, something that makes you feel a little less alone. 

You give him a subtle smile before turning your head back towards the ocean, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy watches you silently, noticing the vacant look in your eyes and the way your gaze seems to be fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. He furrows his brow slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he contemplates how lost you appear in that moment.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?” Tommy’s voice breaks the silence, his tone casual yet curious, as if striking up conversations with strange women on the beach is a regular occurrence for him.

Well, it probably is, you think to yourself.

“I, uh, wanted to watch the sunset,” you answer softly.

“Hm. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Should’ve been here and seen it too instead of wasting my time at that damn bar.”

“Oh? How did you waste your time? Can’t have been that bad, judging by the lipstick stains on your face,” you murmur.

“What? Where?” Tommy blurts out, his eyes widening in surprise as he hastily rubs at his lips and cheeks, searching for any traces of lipstick on his fingers.

You stifle a laugh. “I’m just fucking with you,” you deadpan, shooting him a quick glance. 

He stares at you in mock offense for a moment before his lips curl into a wide grin. “Touché,” he says, thoroughly entertained by your dry humor. “But yeah, things didn’t go the way I would’ve liked them to.” 

“What, she didn’t wanna go home with you either?”

“Very funny. But no, things were going well.” He sighs dramatically and rubs his forehead. “But then her husband showed up and kinda threw a giant monkey wrench into our plans.” 

“Wow, tough break,” you scoff, shaking your head in mock sympathy, “not getting to fuck a married woman. I hate it when that happens.”

Tommy chuckles. “Alright, alright, I didn’t know she was married, for the record. She wasn’t wearing a ring or anything.”

“Sure,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you cast a skeptical glance in his direction.

“What are you up to, then, darlin’? Hm?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Besides not making out with married women?” You hear Tommy’s laugh beside you and wiggle your toes in the sand. “Just enjoying the ocean, I guess. I’ve missed it.” 

“You’re not from here?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Hm. You’re gonna love it. There’s lots of cool things to see and do, especially for young people like you.”

You furrow your brow. “Why are you talking like you’re ninety years old and I’m your estranged grandkid?”

“I dunno,” he sighs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess…turning forty did something to me.”

“Married women apparently still throw themselves at you. You’re gonna be fine.”

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that seems to echo across the beach. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, punctuated by the gentle sound of the ocean and the occasional cry of seagulls wheeling overhead. 

“What brings you here, then?” Tommy asks, observing your profile. You look tired.

“I told you, watching the sunset.” 

“No, I mean what brings you into town? Vacation or family or something?”

You turn to look at him, tilting your head slightly as you study his expression. “Why do you care?”

“Just making conversation,” he says with a smile, a glint of genuine curiosity shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me. We can talk about something else if you want.”

“Like what?”

“Like did you know it’s illegal to own just one guinea pig in Switzerland?”

Your bewildered look amuses him. 

“It’s true. You’re required, by law, to get your guinea pig a little guinea pig friend. They won’t sell you just one. Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. “What kind of women do you pull if this is how you flirt?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Who says I’m flirting?”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a smirk, then turn your head back towards the water. “But what if they want to be alone?”

“Hm?”

“What if you get a guinea pig in Switzerland and you have to buy a second one to keep it company but the first guinea pig actually just wants to be alone on a bench and then some other guinea pig with a mustache shows up and asks weird questions? What then?”

“Well,” Tommy starts, happy that you’re seemingly warming up a bit. “I think the first guinea pig would quickly realize that the other, dashingly handsome guinea pig isn’t that bad and just wants to be friends. And then they’d be friends and run around together and eat hay or whatever.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and you know, I think us humans aren’t that different from them. I don’t think we’re meant to be alone either.”

You look at him. “Is that why you came to talk to me? Because you don’t want me to be alone?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I guess not,” you murmur softly, your gaze drifting to the patch of dry skin on the back of your right hand. “And I’m, uh, not here for any special reason. I just…needed a break from home, I suppose.”

“And you have a place to stay, darlin’?” Tommy’s voice carries a gentle concern as he leans slightly closer, trying to see your eyes. 

“Yeah, I booked a hotel room a few minutes from here,” you lie smoothly. “With sea-view and everything. Just haven’t checked in yet.”

“Where did you put all your stuff?” 

“My stuff?”

“Yeah, your clothes and teddy bears and whatnot.” 

You nudge the backpack sitting on the ground next to you with your naked foot. “This is my stuff.”

“Oh.” You must have really wanted to get away if you traveled this lightly, Tommy contemplates silently.

He used to do the same, packing a bag and escaping, seeking solace in the open road. But he learned the hard way that you can’t outrun your problems. They always find a way to catch up with you, no matter how far you go.

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Have you had dinner already?”

“I had a bagel at the airport this morning,” you say nonchalantly.

Tommy’s brows furrow slightly, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” If you had even the slightest bit of energy left inside of you, you’d find his shocked face amusing.

“Okay, that’s just unacceptable. Wait.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens a food delivery app. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want pi–”

“Yes, you do. I’m not gonna have you starving on my watch.”

You raise an eyebrow. “On your watch?” 

“Yeah, on my watch. Now, what kind of topping–”

“Pineapple.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pine. Apple.”

“Oh, but I’m the weirdo,” he mutters, shaking his head and giving you the side-eye as he reluctantly adds pineapple as a topping to your pizza. “Anything else? Anchovies? Corn? My tears?”

“Jesus, don’t have a heart attack. Are you Italian or something?”

“No, just not a complete monster.”

You can’t help but chuckle, your smile lighting up your face for the first time in what feels like ages. Tommy’s eyes linger on you a moment too long, captivated by your sudden radiance, before he tears his gaze away as your smile fades once more.

Clearing his throat, he shifts his attention back to his task, fingers tapping away as he types the description of your location for the delivery.

“Should arrive in twenty minutes, the app says.” 

You nod and lean back, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you watch the waves again. 

“When did you decide to fly out here?”

“Last night.” 

“How? Why?”

“Simple. I took out a map, closed my eyes, and this is where my finger landed. And as for the why…well, home just didn’t feel like home anymore, you know?”

“Hm. I know that feeling.”

You turn your head and look into his warm eyes. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. It took me almost a decade after retiring from active duty to feel home again, or like I was safe, or like I belonged. It’s, uh, not easy to get that feeling back once you’ve lost it. I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Tommy says with a somber tone. He really is sorry. 

You look at him for a moment and give him a tired smile. “It’s okay,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “It wasn’t home to begin with. Not really.”

“Whatever your reasons are, you’re brave for leaving.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure, I’m brave for running away.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Look, it’s okay. You don’t need to try and make me feel better ‘cause I’m not sad. But I’m also not gonna act like I’m not a coward who accepted far too much shit for far too long ‘cause I’m very much not brave.”

You sigh deeply. “I should’ve gotten the fuck out of that miserable town and relationship years ago. But now it’s too late.” 

Tommy furrows his brow and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“Are you married?”

“No, darlin’, I’m not married.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“So there’s no one special in your life right now?”

“Nothing serious, no. No attachments for me.”

“Hm. No attachments,” you murmur. “That sounds nice.” 

Tommy nods. “It is, most of the time at least. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss being in love.” 

“You’ve been in love before?” You tilt your head and look at him with genuine curiosity. 

“A few times, yeah.”

“And the women you were with…they loved you?”

“Yeah, they did.” The soft smile lighting up his face tells you he has pleasant memories of his former partners. How nice that must be. 

“Do you ever wonder why it didn’t work out?”

Tommy’s expression turns introspective, his gaze drifting towards the horizon as if searching for answers in the distant waves.

“I have,” he admits after a pause, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. “But I guess that’s just how life goes sometimes. People drift apart, circumstances change, life changes...”

“Do you think it’s possible to hate someone you love?”

Your question catches him off guard, and the look in your eyes concerns him. “Well,” he says calmly, carefully choosing his words, “I can’t say I’ve ever had that experience, but I could imagine that’s how my brother felt about me back when I was spiraling and he had to watch me make bad decision after bad decision. He loved me, I know he always has, but he also hated me for what I was doing.” 

“Sounds like a good brother,” you say, mustering a smile. 

“He really is. Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, but I don’t talk to them,” you say, your tone betraying a hint of sadness before you quickly mask it with indifference. “My, uh…best friend was like my sister though.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, you know,” you murmur, the smile on your lips not matching the bitterness in your tone, “that friendship kinda ended after I saw her sitting on my boyfriend’s lap, shoving her tongue down his throat.”

“What the hell? When was that?” 

“Hmm, about a month ago. And you wanna know the real kicker? They’ve been fucking for like half a year. My best friend and my boyfriend. Laughing their asses off behind my back. Hilarious, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’. They’re shitty people for doing that to you. You didn’t deserve any–”

“How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“How do you know that I didn’t deserve it? You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I may not know you,” Tommy says gently, “but I know that no one deserves to be treated like that, especially by the people they trust. It’s hard sometimes to see things objectively because we’re our own worst enemies, but I’m telling you, you didn’t deserve that.” 

“I’m not sure that’s true.” 

“What makes you say that?”

You look into his eyes, and the pain he can see in yours breaks his heart.

“Because, I fucking loved it. Everything he did to me, all these years. I loved it. I could’ve left him after he cheated on me for the first time, the second time, the hundredth time, but no. I loved how he came crawling back to me time and time again, promising me the world, telling me he only loved me.”

You pull away, hands resting on his chest as you try to find your words. Simon’s intense gaze has your mind swirling with conflicting emotions, and your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your body trembling as he presses you against the wall with his body. “You–you say you’ll change, you say you’ll never do it again, you say you regret hurting me. And I forgive you. Every time. But nothing ever changes. You do it again and again, not caring how much you hurt me.” He places a hand on the wall next to your head, pushing your shirt up around your waist with the other, his touch on your naked skin sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down at you with a hint of amusement, a devious smirk appearing on his face as he searches your pleading eyes. “I’m serious, Simon,” you insist, unsuccessfully trying to convince yourself of what you’re saying. “I’m done.” Leaning in, he traces your neck with his nose, your heavy breathing and the way your tits press against his chest making his cock twitch in his jeans. “Is that so?” he murmurs against your skin before softly sucking and kissing on your flesh. “Why are you doing this?” you breathe, instinctively wrapping your arms around him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you draw him closer. His leg between yours presses against your core, and you can’t help but whimper desperately at the feeling. “I love you,” he whispers, his warm breath gently caressing the curve of your ear, his words piercing your heart like a poisonous dart. “No, you don’t,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sadness, your eyes betraying the turmoil raging within you. Despite the ache in your heart, a part of you still yearns for the comfort of his touch, the familiarity of his presence, the illusion of affection he gives you. You need him, need to feel him, need him to love you—even if it kills you. In this moment of vulnerability, you surrender to the torrent of emotions flooding your senses, pressing your lips against his in a desperate attempt to drown out the pain, to silence the screams that plague your mind—eagerly drinking his poison straight from the source. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer, offering yourself up to him with each rough tug, fervent kiss, and harsh bite to his lips. He matches your energy, gripping the back of your neck with a bruising hold as he hastily opens his jeans to free his cock. “I hate you,” you choke out, the words laced with bitterness and the raw intensity of your need for him as your heart races and your vision blurs. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, baby,” Simon murmurs with a smirk, his words a cruel reminder of the tangled web of emotions that binds you to him, even as you struggle to break free. With a deft movement, he pulls aside your panties, sliding his hard cock through your wet folds as he holds your leg up around his waist. “Oh fuck,” you moan as he pushes inside you in one harsh thrust, your fingernails reflexively digging into his scalp. Overwhelming pleasure mingles with the anguish of your body betraying you, even as your mind screams in protest. Your walls clench around Simon with fierce intensity, his repeated thrusts against your G-spot having you close to orgasm within a minute. “Tell me, baby,” he pants, his eyes gleaming with triumph and satisfaction as he watches in real time how his poison travels through your entire body, your mind, intoxicating your very being with his essence. “Tell me how much you hate me while you come on my cock.”

You tilt your head and give Tommy a tired smile. “Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?” 

“No, sweetheart, you’re not pathetic for wanting to be loved. You’re human and our feelings can be…complicated, irrational, dangerous. But you got yourself away from a toxic situation despite your feelings and that takes a lot of strength.”

“Hm.” You draw shapes into the sand with your toes, your heart heavy in your chest.

“Is he…why you left? You had to get away from him?”

“Surprisingly, no,” you say pensively, lost in thought as you fold one leg beneath you on the bench. “Things weren’t that bad after I decided not to care anymore. You know you can just wake up one day and realize it hurts a lot less to just not care about anything? Amazing. So yeah, that’s what I did.” You shrug and rub your left thumb with your right one.

“Of course, he didn’t like that at all, not being able to emotionally drain me anymore. He even told me I was depressed or some shit, acting like he cared, when all he actually missed was me giving him the reactions he wanted,” you scoff, bitterness dripping from your lips. “Coincidentally, that’s when he and my best friend started fucking.”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, that’s beyond fucked up. Do you, uh, have someone to talk to about all this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean apart from handsome cowboys in too-tight jeans late at night?”

“Did you just call me handsome?”

“Don’t think so,” you give him a playful smile, then turn your head to watch the waves doing their mesmerizing dance. Despite the light-hearted banter, a hint of sadness flickers across your face. “But no, I don’t have anyone left.”

Tommy’s expression softens, his eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and concern as he listens to your words. He reaches out, but catches himself before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Why did you leave?” he asks gently.

“I saw her.”

“Who?”

“Laura. My best friend,” you say, shuddering at her name. “I came out of the hospital yesterday, stood at a red light, and then I saw her. Looking right at me from the other side of the street. We hadn’t talked since before I almost died a month ago, ‘cause she never bothered to answer any of my calls or texts…and there she was. Daring to look at me with those fake-ass tears in her eyes like she isn’t a fucking sociopath.”

“What did you do?”

“I just…looked at her, knowing I could never see her again. I walked away, went to mine and Simon’s apartment, grabbed a few things, and went to the airport.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here.”

The weight of your experience hangs heavy in the air, casting a somber shadow over the conversation. Tommy nods thoughtfully as he absorbs your words, until he suddenly shakes his head, chastising himself for his own stupidity.

“Okay wait, I’m sorry, but did you just say you almost died? What the hell happened?”

“Oh,” you scoff, a wide smile spreading across your face, its brightness contrasting sharply with the dullness in your eyes, “it’s nothing. One of my fallopian tubes burst ‘cause my dumbass gynecologist failed to diagnose an ectopic pregnancy, so I was hemorrhaging and had to have emergency surgery to get it removed.”

Tommy’s reaction is visceral: his eyes widen in shock, and his mouth falls open slightly, a silent gasp escaping him as the gravity of your words, spoken with horrifying casualness, hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’...”

“But hey, the doctor said I’m completely fine at the check-up yesterday, so I guess that’s what I am.” You shrug and smile at him, but your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat.

“Darlin’, I’m so sor–”

“Don’t, please. It’s okay,” you interrupt softly, shaking your head. “My ex told me to have an abortion when I told him I was pregnant, and I wouldn’t have been a good mom anyway, so it’s best for the baby that it wasn’t born into the shitshow that is my life.”

“Dar–”

“I swear to God, Tommy, if you say ‘darlin’’ in that stupid, sexy accent of yours one more time,” you cut him off with a playful glare. 

He smiles at you, though worry lingers in his eyes and tugs at his heart.

“I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean,” you muse, welcoming the breeze cooling your hot face down. “It’s kind of poetic that my journey ends here.”

“It really is beautiful here, I’m sure you’d love livi–” Tommy starts, but you’re not hearing him.

“You know, I have this recurring dream where I drown, but instead of feeling panicked or scared I just feel peaceful, light. Like the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders. I don’t thrash or struggle, I just…let the water take me under and I can finally breathe.”

Concern flashes in Tommy’s eyes, but he quickly masks it with a calm expression, not wanting to alarm you.

“That sounds intense,” he responds gently, choosing his words carefully. “Dreams can be strange sometimes, but that one sounds like it’s trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s your mind’s way of processing all the heavy things that’ve been weighing on you."

He shifts slightly closer to you, his tone soft and reassuring. “But you know, maybe it’s worth exploring with a therapist or someone who can help you unpack it. Sometimes talking about these things can bring some clarity and relief.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say absentmindedly. 

“Darlin’, please look at me,” Tommy’s voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, his gaze penetrating through the fog of your mind. If you had any tears left to cry, the sincerity in his eyes would surely coax them out right about now. 

“About what you said earlier…you–you don’t deserve people treating you badly, or any of the bad things that happen to you. You never did, you hear me? You were supposed to be loved, protected and cared for, but you weren’t, and that’s not fair, and most certainly not your fault.”

You tilt your head, studying his face intently. Why does he care? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? But hey, he’s trying to be nice, and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again. So, you’re trying to be nice back. 

“Thanks,” you say softly, mustering a smile. “But enough about me and my dumpster fire of a life.” You shift in your seat, untucking your leg and stretching it out in front of you. 

“I’d rather hear about you and how you get your hair to be this healthy. I can never get mine to look that good. Do you think it’s because I just eat garbage, don’t drink enough water and don’t get enough sunlight?”

Tommy chuckles and nods understandingly, recognizing your attempt to shift gears, and decides to play along until you both hear the pizza guy calling for you.

Your insistence to pay for your own pizza and drink falls on deaf ears, so you begrudgingly accept Tommy’s invitation and thank him for ordering food. Surprisingly, you find yourself ravenously hungry after taking the first few bites of your pineapple pizza—that you originally only wanted to mess with Tommy. But even he has to admit it isn’t half bad after you make him eat a slice.

As you’re eating together and the night deepens around you, the street lamps along the boardwalk spending enough light, you ask Tommy about his life. 

He shares his journey of enlisting in the army as a teenager, grappling with PTSD upon his return, and navigating through troubled times. He tells you about the unwavering support of his brother and how therapy helped him cope with his demons. You delve deeper, asking him about his wishes for the future, about his hopes and dreams.

You enjoy hearing about his life, about his experiences that are so different from yours. It’s comforting to get lost in someone else’s story for a bit. It’s a refuge, a welcome escape from your own tiring existence. 

Pizzas devoured, you sit side by side, enveloped in the soothing melody of the ocean’s whispers. Time seems to lose its grip as you share both laughter and quiet, the minutes and hours slipping away unnoticed like grains of sand carried by the tide.

As tranquility settles between you, the world around you seemingly forgotten, a question gnaws at your insides, its weight palpable in the silence. It’s a question you’re reluctant to voice aloud, knowing it will rupture the delicate bubble you and Tommy have found yourselves in. Yet, it persists, demanding acknowledgment, refusing to be ignored.

You take a deep breath.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He gives you a reassuring smile. “Of course, darlin’.”

“Why won’t you go home?”

Oh. Tommy looks deeply into your eyes, his own filled with turmoil, and finds that he can’t lie to you. 

“I can’t,” he admits softly, turning his gaze towards the distant horizon.

You nod slowly, turning your head towards the water as well. “You know why I’m here.”

“Yes,” he says simply, his acknowledgment laden with a quiet understanding.

You steal a glance at him, your eyes searching for comfort in the weary lines on his face. With a tentative gesture, you place your hand on the bench between you, a subtle invitation for connection.

Tommy, sensing your unspoken plea, catches the movement from the corner of his eye. His gaze meets yours as you turn your head, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, he understands. Without a word, he responds, reaching out to cover your hand with his own. 

His touch is protective, a silent promise that you’re not alone. 

“Do you…do you think that makes me a bad person?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you lay bare the depths of your fears.

“No,” he responds softly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “You’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

For the first time since your miscarriage, tears glisten in your eyes, shimmering like fragments of shattered dreams under the moonlight. Tommy’s words offer a glimmer of solace, touching your broken heart. 

Silence settles between you two, heavy with shared pain. You sit like that for a while, two strangers finding kinship in the gentle embrace of this summer night.

Gently squeezing your hand, Tommy turns to look at you after a few minutes. “I need you to do something for me,” he says, his voice tinged with urgency. You look into his eyes, finding comfort in the warmth of his presence.

“Please stay with me tonight,” he pleads, his fingers tightening around yours, anchoring you to the present moment as if afraid you might slip away into the night. 

“We can stay here, we can go for drinks, we can go dancing, we can break into the zoo—whatever you want, sweetheart. We don’t have to talk about anything, and I promise I won’t bother you anymore if tomorrow you decide that’s what you want, but please give me a chance to show you that I ca–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Okay.”

As the gentle breeze around you whispers secrets of hope and renewal, you find yourself nodding in agreement, a silent promise to give him the chance he so earnestly seeks—to let him show you the light that flickers within the darkness. 

Tommy is momentarily stunned as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation. But there’s none to be found—only a quiet resolve that speaks volumes. A wave of relief washes over him, and he can’t hold back the wide grin spreading across his face.

“So, there’s a place a few minutes from here where we could dance, or there’s the bar I went to earlier, or we could–”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I’m tired. Could we maybe…could we go home?”

Tommy’s face lights up even more. “Yes, yes, of course, darlin’. My place is right around the corner.”

“Great,” you say with a small smile. 

You put your socks and sneakers back on, your movements slow and unsteady after hours of sitting. As you stand up for the first time, your legs wobble beneath you, but Tommy is quick to react, reaching out to steady you with his hands on your waist.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you realize your hands are gripping his shoulders for support.

“That’s alright, darlin’. I got you.”

“You’re so cheesy, you know that?” you say with a playful roll of your eyes before removing your hands and taking a step back. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not working,” he teases back with a smirk.

“Whatever. Can we go?” You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“After you, my lady,” Tommy says with a gallant flourish, gesturing for you to go first. You shake your head with a theatrical sigh, but play along and start walking.

He falls into step beside you, eager to lift your spirits with an array of random animal facts he’s accumulated over the years, and, much to your amusement, with some particularly funny stories about failed hookups, like the one from tonight.

As you draw closer to his apartment, he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and comes to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask if you need anything.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, tampons, make-up wipes, solution for your contacts, hair conditioner, lotion—I don’t think I have any of that at home, but there’s a convenience sto–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, touched by his consideration. “I got all my essentials in my backpack and really don’t need anything fancy. Thank you, though.”

“Are you–”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you interrupt softly. “Thank you.”

Arriving at Tommy’s apartment, you’re struck by its elegant yet welcoming nature. It’s spacious and tastefully furnished, with a modern aesthetic that speaks to Tommy’s discerning taste. You can’t help but wonder if his job as a contractor affords him such a nice living space or if he’s secretly a trust fund kid—or a very successful drug dealer.

“Must be nice,” you think to yourself.

As Tommy ushers you inside, you’re enveloped in a sense of warmth and comfort as the space feels distinctly homey, with its wooden furnishings and cozy accents that evoke a rustic charm. The polished hardwood floors gleam under soft lamplight, casting a warm glow throughout the living room.

Tommy assures you that you’re welcome to make yourself at home as he heads into the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

Despite its hominess, the apartment remains impeccably clean and organized—a testament, perhaps, to Tommy’s meticulous nature. Every surface is spotless, every item in its proper place, reflecting a discipline that may well stem from his army training.

As you explore further, you do notice small touches that hint at Tommy’s personality—framed photos of him and his friends, a worn but well-loved armchair and couch positioned opposite the TV, horse figurines on the sideboard, and a few potted plants scattered throughout, adding a touch of life to the space.

Your eyes are eventually drawn to the record player nestled in one corner, surrounded by a collection of vinyl records. The sight brings a smile to your face, appreciating the nostalgic feeling it gives you. You’re pretty sure you used to have the same model in your childhood home.  

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you hear Tommy’s voice behind you as he hands you the glass of water with a knowing smile. “You like Jazz?”

“Thanks. And yeah, I guess?” 

“Okay, wait a sec.” He moves with practiced ease, flipping through his collection of vinyl records until he finds the one he’s looking for. With a gentle touch, he carefully removes the chosen record from its sleeve, handling it delicately as if it were a precious artifact.

You sip on your water and watch in fascination as he places the record onto the turntable, the soft click of the needle finding its groove. As the first notes of a smooth jazz melody fill the air, you can’t help but smile, the music enveloping you in its warm embrace.

Tommy catches your eye and grins, nodding in approval as if to say, “See, I knew you’d like it.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his arm with your elbow. 

“Want me to show you around?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so this is the bedroom,” he says, leading you down the hallway and into the room where you’ll be sleeping. The bed sits neatly made, its dark sheets promising a restful night ahead. “I’ll change the sheets for you in a bit, okay? And I’ll be sleeping in the living room on the couch.” 

“I, uh,” you murmur, but stop yourself, shaking your head. “No, forget it.”

“What is it? It’s okay, you can tell me.” He searches your eyes as you meet his gaze, waiting patiently for you to answer him. 

“Could you maybe…not change the sheets?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Instead, he nods understandingly and immediately assures you, “Sure, I’ll leave the bed as it is then.”

You offer him a grateful smile and as if sensing your need for comfort, he asks, “Do you need a shirt to sleep?” Without waiting for your response, he retrieves one of his shirts and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, taking the shirt from him and holding it close. It’s soft and smells nice.

“And here’s the bathroom,” Tommy continues, leading you through the space. “Feel free to take a shower if you want. Spare towels are here, and there’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet here. Toothpaste is over there. I even got fancy face masks if you wanna try, they’re in here. You think you got everything you need?”

“I think so,” you smile at him before leaving the bathroom to grab your backpack. 

As you’re about to head back, Tommy slips in ahead of you. You watch as he discreetly removes all the razor blades, a silent but clear gesture of concern for your well-being. You understand what he’s doing, and although it stirs a pang of humiliation and shame inside you, you don’t say anything and act like you didn’t see it.

After he leaves the bathroom, you take a moment to compose yourself before closing the door, peeing, taking off your clothes, and catching a glimpse of the small surgery scars on your belly. They appear to be healing well, already looking much better than even a week ago.

With a deep breath, you turn on the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over your body, soothing away some of your tension. As you lather up, enveloped in the steam and the rich scent of Tommy’s body wash, there’s a knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts.

“Darlin’?” Tommy’s voice sounds through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to check if you were okay.”

“I’m okay. But you seriously need to start buying body wash for adults, dude. I’m gonna be smelling like a fourteen-year-old boy now, and I don’t know how to feel about it,” you tease. 

“Ha ha, you brat. Enjoy your shower.”

You smile to yourself and appreciate how clean Tommy’s shower is as, in your experience, that is not something you can count on with men who live alone.

As you lather shampoo into your hair, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of peace amidst the chaos of recent events. It’s all so surreal.

Once rinsed, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in one of Tommy’s plush towels, the soft fabric hugging your body in a tight embrace. With the steam still lingering in the air, you take your time cleaning your face, brushing your teeth and detangling your wet hair, these simple acts of self-care something you’ve neglected in the weeks prior.

Luckily, your past self decided to pack a fresh pair of panties and a pair of soft yoga pants you can change into now, Tommy’s shirt completing your pajamas for tonight. 

Slowly, you step out of the bathroom, the soft light of the living room floor lamp casting a warm glow on the scene before you. Tommy’s sitting on the couch, bathed in the gentle ambiance of the record player’s music.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, he seems lost in thought, fingers rhythmically tapping against the glass, his eyes focused on the spinning vinyl. As you approach, he looks up, a small smile gracing his lips as he welcomes you to join him.

“Okay yeah, I get it,” he quips, his tone playful as he notices how perfectly his shirt accentuates your eye color. “You look better in my shirt than I ever could. There’s really no need to rub it in.”

Chuckling, you settle into the cushion beside him, feeling the warmth of his presence. It feels oddly comforting to be close to him again, his cologne a familiar scent.

But as you sit beside him now, something shifts in the air, a subtle change that you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s as if a newfound awareness has settled between you, casting a different light on the space you share. And as you steal glances at Tommy, you start to feel restless, your heart rate quickening.

Oh.

The realization dawns on you slowly, creeping in like the first light of dawn, illuminating the depths of your emotions. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, mesmerized by the way he sits on the couch, his posture relaxed yet undeniably confident. 

Your eyes trail over the breadth of his shoulders, down his strong arms, his sculpted torso, and settle on his spread thighs, the subtle flex of muscles visible beneath the fabric of his jeans. Each movement, each shift of his body, only serves to deepen the intensity of your attraction to him.

You’re in trouble. 

His handsome face holds a certain allure, drawing you in with its rugged charm—especially with those warm eyes and the beautiful facial hair. As you look at him, really take him in, you can’t deny the flutter of arousal stirring deep within you.

A flutter that’s enough to urge your scrambled brain to make a move.

Tommy catches your prolonged stare, and his brows furrow slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. You gather the courage to ask for a sip of his whiskey, unwittingly biting your lip as you wait for his answer. 

“Of course, darlin’,” he agrees, leaning in with a broad smile, bringing the glass closer to you.

As your fingers brush against his on the glass, you feel a surge of electricity pass between you. His pupils dilate ever so slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. You take the glass from him, your fingers lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a slow sip, relishing the smooth warmth of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. Your eyes never leave his as you lick your lips, the gesture not lost on Tommy as he watches you intently.

The flicker of desire in his eyes tells you that he’s captivated by your silent invitation, but as Tommy accepts the glass back, a faint frown tugs at his brow, his expression suddenly tense.

“Darlin’, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice husky with restraint.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as you ask, “Why not?”

“Because,” he breathes out, “it’s making me want to do things I shouldn’t.”

“Hmm, but what if I told you that I want to do those things, too?”

Tommy swallows hard as you scoot closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours. His pulse quickens, evident in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, unsure of what to do or say next.

When your hand lands gently above his knee, his body tenses at your touch. His lips part slightly, as if he’s about to speak, but all he manages is a heavy breath.

“Tell me to stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean in slowly, searching his eyes. You can see the conflict raging within him, desire warring with restraint, and you wait for his response.

With a shaky exhale, his gaze drops down to your lips, his entire being filled with longing and uncertainty. But as your palm wanders up his thigh, drawing closer and closer to his growing erection, his resolve begins to crumble like sand underfoot. 

Unable to resist any longer, he leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet fervent kiss. His hand instinctively finds the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your wet hair as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet urgency.

Feeling you so close, feeling your soft lips against his, he surrenders to the moment, to the sweet sensation of your embrace, letting himself be consumed by the taste of you.

And yet, in the back of his mind, he’s painfully aware of the circumstances of your meeting.

“I don’t think…this…is a good idea,” Tommy mumbles breathlessly against your lips as you whine needily for more.

“I don’t care,” you breathe, pulling back for a moment to hold onto his shoulders and straddle his lap. His cock twitches in his jeans as you scoot forward, your warm core putting delicious pressure on it. Smiling, you put your hands on his chest and lean in to kiss him again. He cups your face with his hands, kissing you back deeply before nudging your nose with his. 

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, his pupils so dilated his brown eyes are almost completely black. 

“Let me look at you, baby” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. With a smile, you straighten up and place your hands behind you on his thighs, giving him a great  view of your spread thighs and torso.

“Is this okay?” Tommy asks softly as he traces your thighs with his palms, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body.

You nod your head yes, and his lips curve into a smile as his eyes roam your body and face with adoration. His hands wander over your hips, under the shirt you’re wearing, along your waist and further up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing yours as his hands come to rest on your waist. 

“I’m sure you say that to every girl willing to sit on your lap,” you tease with a smirk, putting your hands on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm. 

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.” His words carry a weight of sincerity as one hand reaches out to tenderly caress your cheek, while the other glides over the soft skin of your back. “C’mere baby.”

As you lean in, his lips capture yours with an almost desperate hunger, his kiss rough and deep, as if he fears you might vanish if he doesn’t hold onto you tightly enough. His hands glide to your lower back, hovering just above your ass, hesitant to go further yet craving to pull you closer, to feel every inch of you pressed against him, to consume you whole. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle. I won’t break,” you say softly, leading his hands down to your ass. You hum in satisfaction as he grabs it, feeling the strain of his arousal against your aching pussy.

“Tommy,” you whine quietly against his lips, begging him to understand how desperately you need him.

Lost in the moment, you both sink deeper into the kiss, the world around you fading away until there’s only the heat of each other’s bodies and the rhythm of your shared desire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands roam your back, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch.

But as the intensity of your kiss grows, so does the weight of uncertainty. Tommy pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy as he searches your eyes for reassurance.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers. “We don’t have to…”

“I want you, Tommy,” you purr, your eyes glazed. 

Your hips rock against him, trying to relieve the tension that has grown between your thighs, eliciting a deep groan from him. His hands move to your waist, helping you grind against him. 

“Oh shit,” he pants, reveling in the needy moans leaving your lips. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” he admits with a soft shake of his head, looking at you with wide eyes, still moving you against the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss and suck at his sensitive neck, leaving purple marks behind. You feel his grip tighten, his restraint slipping as he responds to your touch with a low groan.

Lost in the overload of sensations—feeling your warm body, your soft lips and wet tongue, your urgent movements on him, hearing your moans and whispered pleas—Tommy is ready to give you what you both want.

But right as he’s opening his belt with deft fingers, he inadvertently turns his head and catches his reflection in the window. Watching you writhe on top of him, clutching his shirt, his own face twisted in ecstasy, a sharp pang of guilt shoots through him.

This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be doing this.

You move to kiss his lips again, but as you do so, you catch the concern in his eyes, and your heart sinks. “Hey,” you whisper, your brow furrowed, an anxious smile on your lips. 

Your fingers trail gently through his hair, seeking reassurance, but when his movements cease and his touch withdraws, panic floods your senses.

“No, no please don’t stop,” you beg, your desperation evident in every word. You press against him, your hips moving with urgency, aching for the connection you crave so deeply. “I need you.”

Your hands gently cup his cheeks, your pleading eyes flitting between his. 

“Please? Tommy?”

Feeling something bump against your leg, you’re called back to the present.

“Oh, hi there, buddy,” you coo, looking down at the toddler who just faceplanted in front of you. You lean down and offer your hand to help him up. “What are you up to, hm? Just running around?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his face breaking into a toothy grin. “You wanna sit up here and wait for your mommy?” You lift him up, putting more pressure on your bandaged hand than you should, and set him down beside you. “Great view, huh?”

He babbles something unintelligible, his little arms flailing as his excited laughter fills the air. “You’re so right, buddy,” you agree, following his gaze to the sparkling blue, “the ocean is beautiful.”

“Benji? Oh, there you are,” a lady in a swimsuit calls out, walking towards you with a relieved smile. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she says to you, her tone apologetic. “Benji, how many times have I told you not to run away, hm?”

The toddler giggles in response to his mom’s reproach, his little arms reaching out for her. You can’t help but laugh along with him. 

“Think twice before you decide to have kids,” the lady says with a deep sigh, lifting her son onto her hip. “They’re not always as cute as they look.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckle.

“Say bye to the nice lady,” she prompts, her voice warm and gentle.

Benji turns to you, his eyes bright with innocence, and waves enthusiastically with his chubby little hand.

“Bye Benji,” you coo, returning his wave with a big smile, your heart warmed by his adorable gesture.

You sigh and look at your phone. You have two new messages from Tommy.

Maria says she can’t wait to see you tomorrow. And that she’ll personally drag you here if you decide not to show up. 

You’re family and there’s nothing you can do to escape us ;)

You swallow hard and can feel your puffy, irritated eyes starting to water behind your black glasses. What the fuck did you ever do in your insignificant life to deserve this kind of love?

Your phone lights up with another text from Tommy. 

just accept it <3

You snort and shake your head. You’re so grateful for his friendship. It has changed a lot over the last couple of years, of course it has, especially after he started dating Maria, and more recently since you started…seeing his brother without telling him. 

But the fact that you’re still honoring your yearly tradition to have your late-night talk on this very bench, is a testament to the depth of your bond. It’s a cherished ritual, marking the anniversary of your first meeting. You meet here, under the evening sky, exchanging stories and laughter, and indulging in pizza after sunset.

Two years ago, Tommy told you he met someone before you left his apartment the next morning. 

“Sweetheart?” “Yeah?” “I, uh, I got something to tell you.” “Shoot.” “I met someone.” Your fingers halt as you’re tying your shoes, the world around you suddenly still as his words sink in. You stare at the floor, tension building in your heart. “We’ve only been on two dates, but I–” “Really like her,” you finish his sentence as you tie the laces into a knot, straighten up and meet his gaze. “Yes.” That’s it, then. You’ve been replaced. “Does that,” you clear your throat that feels incredibly tight now, your voice shaking, “does that mean we can’t hang out anymore?” Tears well up in your eyes as you feel a rush of panic flood through you. You look down and try to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. “Of course not,” Tommy says, his tone gentle yet firm. “Nothing and no one in the world could ever keep me from spending time with you.” “Okay,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper as you hastily wipe away a tear with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry for crying, I–I don’t mean to.” “Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Tommy says softly, closing the distance between you two. His hands find their place on your shoulders, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Darlin’, look at me.” You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes brimming with fresh tears. “I mean it,” he says with a comforting smile, looking intently into your eyes and cupping your face with his hands. “I promise I’m not going to leave you. I will always be here for you.” You study his face and tell the nagging voice in your mind to shut the fuck up. This is Tommy. He deserves love, he deserves happiness, he deserves someone who can give him everything he wants.  And that’s not you. You give him a kiss on the cheek and a sincere smile. “I’m really happy for you, Tommy.”

You did continue spending time together—Tommy kept his word and didn’t abandon you—but as more and more time passed, you would see him less and less as his relationship with Maria deepened.

You expected that to happen, it didn’t hurt any less though.

One year ago, he told you he was going to propose to her, and you spent all night brainstorming ideas on how he could do it. After she’d said yes, they both let you know one day over dinner that they were going to elope, just the two of them, and you were the only person they’d tell beforehand. 

A few weeks ago, Tommy beamed with pride as he shared that they were trying for a baby, the twinkle in his eyes warming your heart. Despite the joyous news, you couldn’t resist teasing him for planting that image in your mind.

After you’d shared your stories, and your pineapple and pepperoni pizzas, he very casually asked you if you were seeing anyone, and you said, “No.” 

“You’re a horrible liar, darlin’.” “I’m not lying. I don’t like anyone except you.” “Stroking my ego’s not gonna get you off the hook, baby.” “Hmm, I’m pretty sure it’s working though.” “The longer you deny it, the more obvious it gets, you know.” “I’m not seeing anybody, Tommy.” “You really wanna play semantics with me?” “Alright, alright. I guess I’m…kinda seeing someone.” “Why just ‘kinda’? Does the guy not realize what a lucky bastard he is?” “It’s not him. It’s, uh…you know me.” “Yeah, and that’s why I know you’ve caught feelings.” “Ew, don’t say that.” “Well, it’s true. It’s written all over your pretty face.” “You suck, you know that?” “Yeah, it’s part of what makes me so charming. Does he know?” “I dunno, probably not.” “Are you gonna tell him?” “Uhh, I don’t think so.” “Why not? All this time I’ve known you and I’ve never seen you in love before. You can’t just…ignore it.” “Tommy…” “Don’t even try it with the puppy eyes, I’m immune to them.” “Liar.” “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t tell him.” “Easy. If I never tell him, it’ll never hurt.” “That’s not how it works.” “You just couldn’t let me live happily in my delusions, hm?”  “Sweetheart. I know you’re scared, and you have all the reason to, but…sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith, you know?” “I’m not sure I can.” “What does your gut say?” “My gut says he’s too good for me and that he wouldn’t like me if he knew who I really am.” “As someone who does know who you really are, I can assure you that it’s a privilege I wouldn’t miss for the world.” “I just…don’t wanna mess things up, Tommy.”  “Look. Nothing lasts, but nothing is lost if you try. Everything changes and everything is alright.” “Wow, that was beautiful…you’re really starting to feel that rum and coke, huh?” “You know I’m right, baby.”

It’s funny, really. 

You actually entertained the idea that Tommy might be onto something, that perhaps opening up to Joel could bring some semblance of peace, that perhaps you could be happy together. Yet here you are, back where you started, the familiar ache of loss settling in your heart, whispering that everything is far from alright.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforming into a canvas of vibrant colors,  reflecting off the rippling surface of the water, you take your shoes and socks off. You sink your toes into the soft, grainy sand, relishing its comforting texture. 

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, allowing the rhythmic sound of the waves to soothe your racing thoughts. With each exhale, you remind yourself that you’re safe, embracing the tranquility of the moment as the colors of the sunset dance across your eyelids. 

You feel grounded, peaceful, almost—

“Hi, darlin’.”

“Jesus, you scared me,” you startle with a gasp, snapping back to reality as Joel’s voice unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you saw me,” he says with an apologetic smile on his lips, his big puppy eyes looking puppier than ever.

You sigh exasperatedly and take off your sunglasses. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his words stumbling over each other, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just...I thought I–I mean, I wanted to...”

“Joel,” you interrupt him, too exhausted—physically and emotionally—to beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His brow furrows slightly and his heart plummets as he sees your bleary eyes, a pang of concern settling heavily in his stomach. “I wanted to see you, darlin’,” he confesses softly.

Your gaze sharpens with curiosity and suspicion as you ask, “But how did you know I was gonna be here? And can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

Joel hesitates for a moment, then sits down beside you, his movements cautious as if afraid to spook you. With a nervous glance in your direction, he clears his throat, his voice low and hesitant.

“I, uh,” he begins, his words faltering slightly, “I went to your place after work to see if you’d maybe talk to me in person. But you weren’t there. And then I went to your office to see if you were working late, but I saw Kristen and she said it was your day off. You could have been anywhere at that point, so I went to Tommy’s and…told him.”

His eyes flit between yours, anxiously searching for your reaction. 

You blink slowly, processing Joel’s words with a sense of resignation rather than shock. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you realize that, at this point, nothing surprises you anymore. With a tired nod, you acknowledge Joel’s actions, feeling too drained to muster any significant reaction.

“How’d he take it?” you ask quietly.

Joel exhales deeply, a wry smile on his lips. “He isn’t too happy with me right now, but I think he’ll get over it.”

“Hm.”

“Darlin’, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice wavering with emotion. “I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but after last night, I just…I couldn’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to me.”

As Joel speaks, you keep your gaze averted, unable to meet his eyes, your focus fixed on the sand beneath your feet. You hear every word he says, each one echoing in the silence between you, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your reluctance to face him, Joel’s unwavering gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes silently pleading for understanding.

In the midst of the tense silence, a sudden clarity washes over you, and your heart speaks before your mind can catch up. Just as Joel opens his mouth to apologize again and explain further, you interject with your own question, the words tumbling out softly into the stillness.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something missing...like a piece of your heart is somewhere else? And no matter what you do, you’re always gonna be incomplete?” 

You meet Joel’s gaze, your eyes searching his, peering into his soul with a vulnerability that lays bare your deepest feelings. 

“I don’t feel like that when I’m with you,” you whisper.

Joel’s brows furrow in a mixture of surprise and tenderness as your words sink in. His lips part slightly, his expression softening with understanding as he processes the weight of your confession.

“Would you, um,” you clear your throat, “would you hold my hand and just sit with me for a bit?”

Joel’s eyes beam with adoration as he gently envelops your hand that’s clutching your shirt, delicately prying it away and intertwining his fingers with yours. With a soft, reassuring smile, he places your entwined hands on his thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

As you both gaze out at the vast expanse of the water, the waves lapping against the shore in a mesmerizing dance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you like a warm blanket.

You still carry the weight of unresolved issues and uncertainties in your heart, acknowledging that they loom on the horizon, demanding attention. But for now, they can wait.

Your hand in Joel’s feels right, and in this shared moment right here, that’s enough.

Thank you for reading! 🤍

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tag list: @dugiioh @eviestevie-14 @koshkaj-blog @jupiter-soups @mattmurdockstateofmind @missladym @paleidiot @pattwtf @runningmom94 @serenadingtigers @staywildflowahchild @the-orange-tabby-cat @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods @yassspose let me know if you want to be added

[jintaka-hane]

It's my birthday!!!! 🎉🥳

Yesssss! Another turn of the globe! 🌎 And I want to celebrate it with you all. 🪩 I want to gift everyone here (and myself 🙆🏻) a fic with my three favorite things in the world:

bratty reader ✅

enemies to lovers ✅

and Eustass fucking Captain Kid ✅

Life hasn’t let me finish it in time for today, but at least I can share the beginning because, honestly, I can’t keep it to myself!! 🦾❤️

Summary: You are a prisoner aboard the Victoria Punk. You have found and hidden a treasure that Kid's pirates were searching for, and with the intention of interrogating you, they keep you chained in the ship's brig until you confess its location. Poor Kid. He has no idea who he’s playing with. And he’s going to end up getting burned, obsessed with a very different treasure. Notes: very much NSFW (not now, but will), bratty reader, Kid does not what to do with you, Kid is obsessed, you have experience manipulating men, cocky Kid, even cockier reader, provocation, seduction, poor self control, short tempered Kid, the tables turn, he is wrapped around your finger.

Your eyes snap open and you blink a few times, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

In one corner, a lantern casts a soft glow on the wooden floor and walls. The smell of brandy is strong, probably coming from a nearby wine cellar, and mixes with the salty, humid atmosphere. And there's a soft wood creaking with each gentle, rhythmic sway of the room.

You’re on a ship. 

A metallic clink cuts through the quiet as you try to move your hands, and your gaze drops down to your dirty forearms, following the length of a heavy chain secured around your sore wrists. The chain crisscrosses, ending in iron rings anchored firmly to the wall.

Yes. You are in the ship’s brig.

You chuckle wryly, shaking your head in amusement. This again, huh? What debt had you racked up this time? Or who’d you try to swipe from that actually managed to catch you? You’ve been in plenty of cells before, but not this one. 

The bitter, metallic taste of blood lingers in your mouth, and you flick your tongue to wipe away a small trickle the corner of your lip. Smirking, you recall flashes of what went down a few hours ago. That blonde brute in the mask, pinning you to the ground with that burnt-up tree trunk of an arm. The tall idiot dressed like a cockroach in fishnets, kicking you square in the face.

Amateurs. You grin to yourself, thinking about how they held back. Clearly, they had no idea what you’d been through before. These rookies didn’t even come close to the worst of it.

The iron lock of the cell door creaks open and the silhouette of an imposing man is outlined against the light. You squint, trying to make out your captor’s identity beneath the dim lantern glow. The hulking figure looms at the entrance, arms and chest bulging with intimidating muscles straining against an unbuttoned black shirt. His wild red hair spikes upward like a flame, and beneath a pair of studded leather goggles, sharp orange eyes glint over a crooked, broken nose.

Eustass Captain Kid, you think immediately.

Alright, so maybe your captor isn’t the idiot you were expecting... but still, you don’t flinch an inch. Your survival instinct kicks in, and your brain starts working to assess the level of threat you’re facing. With a single glance, you study his attitude, stance and outfit, and it doesn’t take long for you to reach your verdict. Arrogant and cocky. With those ridiculous yellow pants with purple frills screaming overconfidence.

Nothing you can’t handle.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid <3

[conchcronch]

I Could Never Forget You

Sanji x You

He was there, he saw you. Reality begins to sink in and you panic, hoping you can talk to Sanji and maybe, if you're lucky enough he could find it in himself to forgive you. This was not how you expected the conversation to go, but you certainly don't mind the new direction the evening has gone. A/N: While you don't have to have read the first part in this series, it would likely give you a bit more idea as to what's going on. But let's be real, who reads smut for the plot. Here is the first part in the series if you're interested!

Tag List: @onepiecemasterlistblog

NSFW Below Cut

When Sanji returned to the crew after everything in Whole Cake, he was different. You chalked that up to processing the events; the broken off engagement, seeing his siblings and father again, and just trying to return to normal day to day life. The two of you hadn’t really spoken since his return, you stayed by Zoro’s side the vast majority of the time, and remained quiet when he wasn’t around. 

You were worried about him, but at the same time you didn’t want to be the one who approached him first. You were polite, always saying thank you and receiving a curt nod in response. It wasn’t until you were recovering after a training session with Zoro that you realized why he was treating you this way. 

“He saw us, y’know.” He was leaning against the railing of the deck, drinking a bottle of water as the sun was just beginning to dip. You had gotten into the habit of training on the deck after dinner when everyone else was doing their own thing inside, the lack of people around meant you got quiet moments like this where you could just enjoy being together without having to think about what conclusions the crew might jump to. 

“What do you mean?” Your voice wavered, you half didn’t believe him, half internally begged for him to be joking. 

“You know what I mean.” It had happened again, several times. But that was all it was, just a friends with benefits type situation. 

“No he didn’t.” You said mainly to ease your mind but he took it as though he needed to defend it. You felt like you were going to be sick, bile beginning to burn your esophagus as you leaned your head over the railing, trying to take deep breaths of the salty sea air in hopes it would help it pass. 

“You give a shit?” He stepped closer to you, a hand pulling the hair that was dangling around your face back so if you did throw up it wouldn’t get in the way. 

“Yeah I give a shit!” You said, your head dangling loosely. 

“Why?” You looked up at him as best as you could in your current position, despite his close proximity, his attention was directed towards the sun slowly sinking below the horizon.

“Because I liked him, Zoro. And even though he hurt me, I don’t want to hurt him back. That’s not who I am.” 

“Do you still like him?” You sighed, not wanting to think about the fact your feelings were still lingering. You were happy in this situation-ship with Zoro, loved the attention he would give you and the way everything felt so effortless with him. But you were struggling to ignore the sour tugs at your heart whenever he would drop his gaze to avoid meeting yours. The way his hand would dart away at the very brush of your fingers against his, every interaction you had with him made you want to pull him close. But you weren’t ready to have that conversation with Zoro.

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is I didn’t want him to find out that way.” You and Sanji had never discussed what you were, which until this moment you had used to justify your actions since that night. But you knew it was unlikely that Sanji would see it as anything other than what it was. And despite the ‘you were engaged’ argument you couldn’t refute the claims even if you tried.

”Find out what, that we fucked?” His nonchalant tone made your stomach lurch, but not in a way that forced your dinner to make a reappearance. The railing of the ship was digging into your soft stomach, surely leaving a bruise if you stayed hunched over it much longer. 

“N-no…” You pull yourself up, Zoro’s hand retracting from the hold it had on your hair. “I mean y-yeah I guess that’s part of it.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, opting to stare out at the water lapping at the sides of the boat, forcing a clawed hand through your bangs. “I just wish I could have told him in my own time.” 

“Why do you care, he was the one that got engaged.” 

“There’s two sides to every story.”

”You didn’t much care for that ‘two sides’ shit when I had you bent over the bench press last night.” 

“Well maybe I’m beginning to regret some of my past actions.” He hummed in acknowledgement, a silence stretching on between the two of you until the anxiety blossoming inside of you became too much. Without another word you grabbed your bottle of water and headed towards the door inside, your gate that of someone mid anxiety attack, completely unaware of the man on the other side of the door.  Just as you grab the knob to head in, the door is pushed outward by someone on the other side, catching you completely off guard. Before you knew it, you were staring into the sea blue eyes of the last person you wanted to see at that moment. 

“S-Shit sorry I-“ He looked just as surprised as you, the cigarette clenched tightly in between his teeth. He stepped around you, holding the door open so you could pass though, never uttering a word to you. You stomped through the halls, weaving your way around crew members, none of which dared to speak to you, clearly seeing you were in no mood. You open the door to your bedroom, sitting on your bed with arms crossed. Your brain going a mile a second, replaying all the times you begged for Zoro, begged him to make you feel good, all the times you went out in search of him despite the fact Sanji was around, despite the fact you knew he had seen you looking for the swordsman he hated so much. 

“I need to find him.” You said to an empty room, determined to go find Sanji and put all of this to bed. To explain your side of things and hope that he can find it in his massive heart to forgive you. You left your room in the same panicked way you had entered it, navigating the halls expertly while you tried in vain to map out your discussion points as though it were an essay. 

Before you knew it, you were standing in an empty galley. “S-Sanj-“ Your stammer fell on an empty room. Here you were, prepared to throw yourself at the whim of a man you had pined after for years only to see an empty room. You stood there dumbly, hoping that if you were here long enough, he would show up. Rarely did he go anywhere besides the men’s room and here, his showering schedule remained consistently as part of his morning routine.

The wind blown from his sails, your energy chewed through by your anxiety, you felt there was nothing left to do other then return to your bedroom and mentally agonize over things. The short walk back to your bedroom felt long and your body heavy, turning the door knob felt the equivalent of pushing a boulder up a mountain. 

The lights remained off, you didn’t want to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You wanted to shower, to clean the anxiety and emotional muck off your skin knowing you were unable to get rid of it mentally. You pull open a drawer, searching for your favourite oversized shirt to put on after your shower, hoping the little bit of comfort it would bring would help you get through the rest of the night. But then you froze, something feeling off.

Your room, it didn’t smell the same. It wasn’t an unfamiliar smell, in fact quite the opposite, it was a smell you had grown accustomed to before it was quickly forgotten about and replaced with a much more earthy aroma. This smelled of expensive cologne and tobacco smoke. Then you become hyper aware of the feeling of eyes on your back, the sound of someone’s even breathing. 

How had you missed him? He was sitting perfectly still on your bed, his gaze downcast and the familiar glow of a lit cigarette peeking out from his bangs that hid his face. “S-Sanji?” He barely reacted, his hand came up to grasp the cigarette, pulling it from his lips to allow a puff of smoke to be forced from his lungs. 

“Why?” His voice was quiet, and if you hadn’t been waiting for this question you would have almost missed it. “Why of all people, why him?” 

“S-Sanji, I have so much to explain.”

“Why him?” His tone was more demanding this time, venom in his voice. “There has to be a reason.” 

“He was there for me.” Your voice was unsteady, your statement ending as though it were a question.

”When I wasn’t.” 

“You left me” His head moved just enough that you could see his eyes through his bangs. You had said it before, he had left you, you had felt abandoned that day.

“I didn’t want to!” 

“How was I supposed to know that in the moment?” 

“I came back.” It was your turn to deflate. “I saw you.”

“I-I…I didn’t know about that until today…” 

“Do you know how hard it was for me to slip out long enough to get back here?” He pushed himself to his feet and cleared the distance between the bed and where you stood, looming over you. “And I come back to see you like that.”  

“I-I know…It wasn’t my intention.” He sucked on his cigarette hard, holding it in his lungs before blowing it out directly into your face. 

“I wasn’t even gone for three days.” 

“I know” You didn’t know what to say, even though you had just spent your entire walk carefully mapping all the points out, now that he stood in front of you you were completely amiss. 

“What did he do that I didn’t? 

“It’s not like that…I mean it was in the moment, I was hurt Sanji, I thought you had chosen to leave me.”

“Sexually, what did he do that I didn’t do?” His tone was impossible to read, it was masked better than his face which was mostly hidden by the shadows of the dimly lit room and his bangs, making him difficult to read.

“What?” Confusion and slight shock evident in your voice.

“You’ve never looked or sounded like that with me.” 

“S-sanji it’s not a-about sex, not fully I mean…That’s not how it started at least.”

“But it’s partially about sex.” You could see his jaw tighten, biting down on the cigarette that had found its way back between his teeth. “So tell me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. There was a drawn out silence between you both, your lips sucked into a tight line before you finally sighed.

“Sometimes I want to be handled…differently than how you do it.” He sighed heavily from his nose, smoke enveloping you. 

“I don’t understand.” His voice was quiet, slightly cracked like a glass that had been dropped one too many times, but was too strong to fully shatter.

“You’re so gentle, which is nice. But sometimes I want there to be some urgency, some spontaneity.” You sighed, bringing your hands to your face to rub at your eyes. “It just started to feel too much like a routine.” You could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, you hated how this conversation was going, it felt like you kept digging a deeper hole for yourself, while simultaneously hurting someone you do really care for. “Fuck Sanji, I’m so sorry. In the moment it felt like it was justified. Like I was entitled to feel like this, but then I f-found out you saw and I-I just didn’t want you to th-hink I stopped caring about you.” You hiccuped a sob, wanting to sink to the ground but resisting. “I’m sorry I am so fucking sorry.” 

Sanji had tried to be blank, tried to act like he didn’t care. And he had done a pretty convincing job if he did say so himself, but the moment he heard that broken sob his resolve shattered. His arms were around your waist before you could fully realize it, he pulled you into his chest, one arm holding you close, the other bringing a hand and cradling your head as you cried into his suit jacket. “I swear it was never my intention Sanji, I was just so hurt.” You tried to pull your head away but he held it firmly. “I never meant to hurt you, I-I…I don’t know, I’m just s-so sorry.”

“You shouldn't be sorry, I’m the one who’s sorry.” You could feel his lips move against the top of your head. “I should have figured out a way to come sooner, you should have heard the news from me, not from her.” He sighed heavily “And I-I was the one who agreed to marry her…Not at first, but when I saw you and him like that…I just convinced myself that things would be better if I left you here with him.” You felt your heart shatter, erupting back into broken sobs, your body rattling as he held you tightly against him.

“How can you even stand to be around me?” You managed to get out between gasps for breath you couldn’t catch and broken sobs. 

“I made mistakes too.” You didn’t want to know what they were, but something about knowing you weren’t the only one who was far from your best self through this whole situation quieted your sobs. 

“I don’t think I want to know what they were.” You sniffed, his finger pulling your chin up so he could see your puffy, tear stricken face, a small smile on his chapped lips. 

“Why don’t we start over?” You nod, his smile widening. “Can I make it up to you?” You furrow your brow, wordlessly questioning him. 

“If we’re starting over, there’s no need for you to make anything up to me.” He shook his head, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. “You don’t have to do anything for me.” You couldn’t resist cupping his cheek, the tip of your thumb swiping a tear that was just about to fall. 

“Please,” You couldn’t help but smile at his plea. “I-I just don’t think I can…” His eyes darted away from yours “I don’t think I can be dominant like him.” 

“Oh…I didn’t realize you meant make it up to me like that.” 

“I don’t have to, I just thou-” You shook your head, unable to fight the smile off.

“No no Sanji, I just thought you were offering to bake me a cake or something.” 

“I can do that too, or instead if you’d prefer.” You shook your head and pulled his face closer to yours. “After seeing you like that, it’s all I can think about. I need to see it again, I need to be the one who makes you sound like that. But I-“ He leaned forward, his lips against the pulse point in your neck, “I don’t think I can treat you the way he did, to h-hit you like that.” Memories of Zoro’s rough hand spanking you as his orgasm approached came flooding back, your thighs clenching around nothing at the thought. You could feel him breath in your scent, something he had gotten into the habit of doing for comfort. His soft lips trailed from your neck, up your cheek and finally they were inches from yours. 

“I don’t need you to be like him, I want you to be you. I can be the one in charge if that’s easier for you.” Your lips were a hair apart and just before you closed the gap a whine slipped past his lips, clearly you weren’t the only one who was withholding some turn ons. 

Your whole body melted into his hold the moment your lips met. Every kiss with him was always a whirlwind, breathtaking, and perfect in every way. You had loved the way Zoro dominated your mouth but there was something in the way Sanji kissed that was unmatched. His hands were clawing at the back of your shirt,  moaning into the kiss. He had always been needy, maybe even a bit whiny, but this was on a whole new level.  It was like he had been starving for this, for you. And now that he finally had you in his grasp he could let loose. 

You had to push his chest in order to get him to pull away from your lips, he was already straining against his trousers and all you had done was kiss. “P-Please.” The words came out as though they were a breath. “Use me.” 

“Wha-” Both hands cupped your cheeks, as though he thought you would look away. 

“Use me for your own pleasure, take what you need, please. I need you to use me.” He guided your head to the side so he had access to your neck, pressing needy kisses on every inch of skin he could get to. “You tell me what to do, where to sit, how to touch you, fuck please, I’d do anything for you. I just want to hear what he got to hear.” His words were punctuated by kisses and nips at your skin. Despite his hands barely even touching you, you knew you were already wet. 

“You’re sure?” He moaned at the question.

“I’ve never wanted something so badly.” His lips made their way back to your lips, meeting in a sloppy kiss that you both needed more than air in that moment. As your mouths were busy you managed to pull your workout shirt off, his hands shoving your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely bare to him. You could tell by how he was grabbing at your skin he was trying to be rougher than normal, trying to mimic how he had seen Zoro manipulate you. Your lips slipped from his, moving to kiss along his cheek until you could nip at his ear lobe. 

“So you want me to use you?” You hadn’t intended for your voice to be so sultry, and by the wanton whine that slipped from his lips you knew that was a yes. “Can you get on your knees for me?” Before the sentence had fully left your mouth he was kneeling in front of you, his hands on the outside of your thighs with his gaze trained on you waiting for your next request. The sight of him fully dressed in front of your entirely bare body was never something you thought about, never something you expected to turn you on half as much as it clearly did. You held out a hand, he quickly put his in yours and allowed it to be brought to your lips where you greedily sucked on his middle and index fingers, that tasted of metal filled your mouth as you lapped drooled around his rings. Such a simple act was making your slick begin to seep to your outer lips, you could tell he wanted to delve in, press his face between your folds but yet he remained, patiently awaiting your next instructions. 

When you were finished with his fingers you allowed his hand to slip from your grasp, his eyes remained trained on you, waiting patiently despite knowing where this was going. “Go ahead.” He moaned at the permission, his tongue was the first part of him to touch your, followed shortly by his lips as he moaned into you. ”N-Now I want you to finger me at the same time.” It took all your focus to get those words out as steady as they were. He slipped his middle finger in with ease, you were practically dripping already, he had many skills but you were confident that next to his cooking skills his next best skill was his ability to eat you out. The way he would somehow simultaneously suck on your clit while gathering your slick with his tongue was inhuman. But the way he moved his finger inside of you at the same time already had you racing towards your peak. “G-gods you’re doing so good.” You silently wished there was something behind you to put some of your weight on, but the second he used his free hand to guide your leg over his shoulder any thought of suggesting a change of position died. He added another finger without instruction but your brain was so far gone you didn’t even realize it. Your fingers knotted themselves in his golden hair, tugging harder than you ever had before, helping him maintain the pace you craved. It got to a point where he just extended out his tongue and allowed you to manipulate him however you needed, grinding against him desperately. His moans got louder, begging for your cum without words . His fingers were moving inside of you the same way Zoro’s had, and while Zoro’s fingers were thicker, Sanji’s managed to reach so much deeper. Your grip somehow tightened even more on Sanji’s hair, your hips ground even harder against his mouth when you finally came, your head lolling backwards as a drawn out moan slipped past your loose lips. 

You came down slowly, releasing Sanji’s hair but never telling him to stop. His fingers slowed as did his tongue which had gone back to lazily lapping at your clit. Once you had come down from your orgasm, your body feeling limp and the cringe of over stimulation finally hitting you, you whined, grabbing his hair looser this time and pulling his face away from your mound. He looked up at you, his eyes glassy and your face absolutely covered in your slick, watching as his tongue ran over his lips tasting as much of you as he could. “You did so good.” He moaned at your words, “You’re such a good boy.” You knelt down, meeting his lips as he moaned at the pet name. You could clearly taste yourself on his tongue, arms wrapping around you and his hands slipping low enough that he could dig his fingers into the meat of your ass. 

“I missed your taste so much.” You're fairly certain he didn’t intend to say that out loud, the words muffled by your mouth against his before finally pulling back. “I thought I’d never get to taste you again.” You ran a hand over his cheek, your thumb brushing over his lower lip. 

“I’m not done with you, you know that right?.” Your hand slid down from his cheek until you could begin working the buttons of his blue and black striped dress shirt open.  It didn’t take long before you were straddling his lap, surely leaving a damp spot on his pristine slacks. The feeling of his soft, warm chest against your hands was something you had never quite experienced with anyone else but him. Zoro’s skin has nothing on Sanji’s. He breathed a curse, his nails digging into your hips trying to stop you from grinding against him, something you hadn’t been conscious of. You eyes met his, “I-I’m sorry.” he looked away from you, “I-I just…I’m really close…” His cheeks flushed pink, the blush even blooming on his chest as you pushed his shirt off his shoulder. “Aw, do you need more attention?” He nodded, still refusing to look at you. With the amount of teasing Zoro had put him through regarding his stamina you knew it had become a bit of an insecurity for him. Despite it never really being an issue in your experience you knew that he got worked up fast and if you kept going he would finish without much help, but you had no intention of ending this prematurely. You slipped off his lap, pushing yourself up to stand up straight before nodding towards the bed. “On the bed, sit on the edge.” He scrambles to his feet, staggering the short distance from where he had been kneeling on the floor to pull himself onto the plush comforter. “You’ve been so good Sanji” You ran a single finger along his jaw, his eyes glued to you waiting in anticipation for your next instruction, but little did he know, you were taking a break from instructing. “I think you’ve earned yourself a reward,” You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, being careful not to graze his straining crotch with your body. “Don’t you think?” He nodded, trying to move his head to catch your lips in a kiss but you move your head before he’s able to. “But I need you to do something for me,” 

“A-anything” his voice is as rough as it is first thing in the morning, a sound you always loved but rarely got lucky enough to hear. 

“You won’t like it.” With a finger under his chin you lead his lips to yours, stopping when your noses brush. 

“I’ll do anything, as long as you like it, it doesn’t matter.” You slid your face along his, your lips going as far as being able to brush against the shell of your ear. 

“I want you to cum in my mouth.” You heard his breath catch in his throat followed shortly by the hint of a whine. “I know you don’t usually li-“

“Please!” He interrupted you mid sentence, “Please let me” You trailed a few kisses from him ear down his neck, no longer having the fabric of his shirt to block your descent, kisses turning to playful nips as they got lower. Taking a second to dart your tongue out and feel the way his stomach tensed when you swiped it over his pebbled nipple before going lower. 

“You’ve been such a good boy for me tonight, it only makes sense for me to make you feel as good as you made me feel, don’t you think?” You looked at him as you pulled at the button of his trousers, watching as he nodded repeatedly. You pulled his pants open, barely giving him a chance to push them down before you were fishing his cock out. He raised his hips enough to push his pants down, letting them pool at his feet as you wrapped your hand around him. 

You always loved how reactive he was on the few occasions he allowed you to touch him. Not to say he was ever not reactive for you, there were a number of nights you wished you could have shoved his face in a pillow to get him to quiet down. But when you had his cock in your hand he was almost limp. Slowly you stroked him, kissing along his inner thigh the way he always did to you, going from the side of his knee inward until his leg met his body before repeating it on the other side, only met with frustrated moans when you pulled back. “P-please” You almost missed it, confusing it for a particularly shaky sigh rather than a plea.

”Please what, my pet?” You rubbed your cheek against his cock, feeling the precum that was leaking from the tip smear across your skin, watching him moan from his open mouth. “You know I’ll do anything for you, all you have to do is use your words like a good boy.” You could barely resist his cock anymore, his smell was almost intoxicating. 

“I need to feel you” You rubbed your face against him more,

”You can feel me like this.” You loved playing dumb with him.

“I need to feel inside of yo-u” His words hiccuped as you ran a hand up his thigh.

“Well why didn’t you just say that.” Keeping your gaze trained on him you swallowed his cock in one go, giving him no time to process or get used to the warmth of his mouth. A high pitched moan ripped from his throat, his hands grabbing fist fulls of your hair on instinct, but your moan at his reaction convinced him not to move them. 

You wanted to tease him more, break him down until he was begging. But you had missed him just as much as he missed you, you had just forced yourself to ignore it. You loved how Zoro fucked you, loved the way he’d force his cock down your throat at the drop of a hat, and then pound into your mouth like you just an object to be used. But something about Sanji got you so wet, maybe it was the way his cock felt in your mouth, the fact that your jaw didn’t get sore from the sheer girth, or how his body curved over you, almost to the point where you could feel his chest every time you pulled off him. “I-I f-fuck I’m alm-most there” His wordless were pleas, as though he thought at any second you were going to pull off and leave him like that. You doubled down, swallowing his cock over and over, making sure to moan around him as you did so. His hips began to buck up into your mouth, pushing his member into your throat once, twice then he came, his seed running down your throat as though it were water and you had been dehydrated. With every pulse he pushed back into your throat, each thrust weaker than the last until his body fell backwards and he whined, begging you to stop. 

God even his taste was different then Zoro’s. You accredited the slightly bitter taste to his habit of chain smoking, you didn’t dislike the flavor nearly as much as you did the vice. You pulled off his cock, watching it quickly deflate as you run your hands up and down his thighs. Your knees crack as you stand, only on your feet for a second or two before you crawl on the bed, manoeuvring yourself so you can lay next to him, quickly getting pulled so your head is on his chest. “We’re not done, I know you can go again.” He did something that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan, his hand holding you tightly against him. 

”I could never forget you.” The words seemed so out of place in your mind but yet tugged at a memory you had pushed far back. Even when you were concentrating on recalling it, you struggled, only able to remember it had something to do with Zoro and that forsaken night. 

“How much did you see?” The question fell from your lips before you even realized. That and other variations of the question had been plaguing your mind since you found out he had been there for even one second, and you silently hoped he had been there for even less. 

“Enough to get the picture.” The silence between you stretched on, and part of you thought you weren’t actually going to continue. “I heard more than I saw.” 

“Okay, what did you hear then?” 

“You begged.” 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Did you let him cum inside of you?” You nodded against his chest, clearly able to hear his heart beat faster. 

“You never let me-“

“You never gave me the choice.” You cut him off. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted someone to do that?” you pushed yourself up, moving to straddle his waist, not at all surprised when you felt his semi erect member nudge against your ass. “I never had a say in our sex life.” His gaze averted from you “And that’s not to say it wasn’t good, sometimes it was great. But there were things I wanted to try, wanted to try with you, but I never got to speak up.” Your hands were on his chest to keep yourself up, his hands wrapping around your forearms for the extra support. “Even things I liked to do, you didn’t want me to do. This might come as a surprise Sanji, but I love sucking your dick.” His cheeks were burning and you could tell he was fully hard again. “I love it so fuckin’ much, I love when you cum in my mouth. But you never let yourself, you were just so stuck in the routine that you wouldn’t listen to what I wanted to do to you.” It felt like a weight was lifted off of you, for the first time since this whole thing, you felt like you and Sanji may actually have a chance if he was willing to give it another try.

”I just…I didn’t want to be one of those guys who never makes their partner finish.” His words were unsure, and he still refused to meet your eye line again. 

“You’ve never been one of those people, Sanji.” You cupped a cheek in your hand, gently guiding him to meet your gaze. “For all the things you may not have done, you always made me cum.” You leaned down, pressing your lips to his for a moment before pulling away. “Sometimes, I just want to return the favor.” 

“What about being rough?” 

“If you’re not into that, you don’t have to do it. I'm never going to force you to, or not want to have sex with you because there’s something you’re not comfortable with. But, that being said, you don’t need to hit me to be more dominant.” His lips tightened into a straight line, you could tell he was thinking very carefully about his next words, deciding whether or not to say it, so you kept talking. “I don’t need you to be rough, I just want us to be able to talk about things. Because Sanji, when it gets down to it, I like you for more than your cock.” You brought your lips down to his again allowing yourself to melt into the kiss as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you down against him. ”I’m really sorry”, your words were swallowed by him, the only sign that he actually heard them was the way he tightened his arms around you.

”What if I hurt you?” His sentence was punctuated by the sloppy kisses he was leaving along your cheek and down to your neck.

“Maybe I want you to hurt me a little.” You shrug, your breath hitching as he nips at your collarbone, doing it again to the same reaction. He begins to sit up, pushing you back so he could have more access to your chest. You allow him to kiss and lap patterns along your chest, surely littering hickies all over you, he’s so lost in the moment he doesn’t even register the way you guide his swollen cock between your legs. He only seemed to register it when he felt the head of his cock rub between your slick folds, moaning into your breast as you sank down onto him at a painfully slow pace. You cradle his head against you, running your fingers through his silky hair breathing in his scent when he’s fully inside of you. You feel him let out a shaky breath, clearly trying so hard to last, already on the edge. “Look at me” You let go of his head but when he doesn’t move you bring a hand back into his tresses, grabbing them and yanking his gaze up, a whine coming from his bitten lips, “I said, look at me.” His eyes were glassy and his cheeks flushed, but god he looked amazing. 

You had never thought yourself to be dominant, but something about how willing he is to do anything you ask, and those sounds, gods the sounds he makes really did something to you. Everything he did only managed to stoke the fire that was raging low in your stomach. “See my love,” You let go of his hair, dragging your hand down and along his cheek, “Did that hurt?” You could see the cogs in his brain attempting to turn, clearly clouded by the fogs of lust. He shook his head slowly, “Did it feel good?” He nodded. “Do you want me to do it again?” He nodded quickly, his lips parting. You couldn’t resist his pink lips anymore, leaning down to kiss him roughly both hands cupping his cranium, knitting your fingers through his hair and tugging every so often, your hips moving as you kissed. 

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t have parted your lips from his. You were fucking yourself on him, his hands running down your back and grabbing your ass harder then he had before, clearly getting a sense for what you were asking of him. It wasn’t until you felt him trying to pull away from your lips, his hands grabbing your hips hard enough to still your movements. “Do you want me t- How should I finish?” You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips, the fact that he was asking what you wanted was all you had ever wanted. You pulled away, a hand on his chest pushed him back on the bed, his hands releasing his hold on your waist so you could sink down fully on him. 

“I want you to do exactly what I tell you, okay?” His expression was priceless, you’re confident that if he hadn’t been actively fighting the urge he would have cum at the sentence alone. 

“P-please.” His voice was a sigh more than anything. 

“Hand,” You put your hand out in front of you, quickly he placed his in yours which you pulled forward, manipulating it until you could press the pad of his thumb on your clit, the rest of it splayed out on your lower stomach. “I want you to keep that right there, you don’t need to move it or anything just- just the pressure.” Having his finger right where you needed it was already ushering you towards your edge and you weren’t even fucking your self on him yet. “Can you do that?” With an expression of amazement he nodded, “Then, I’m going to fuck myself on your cock, okay?” 

“God yes” 

“You better not take your eyes off of me.” You leaned forward, your hands rubbing along his chest as you did so. “Not until you cum inside me, got it?” You knew he did, you knew he was going to be such a good boy for you and do exactly what he was told. “Think you can do that?” Your lips moved against his, swallowing his moans whenever he tried to answer. “Hmm what was that?” 

“Y-yes I can, shit I can do that f-for you mm-o-“ His sentence was broken off by a long moan.

”That’s my good boy.” You pushed yourself back up before he could try to kiss you, your eyes never leaving his as you began to fuck yourself on him. You ground your hips against him, the sound of skin slapping and both of your moans intermingling echoed off the walls of your bedroom. You grabbed his free hand, bringing it to your lips and pressed kisses to it before moving it so he was grabbing your breast, a moan falling from his lips as he toyed with the soft fat. 

“I’m n-not g-“ His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second, but you were feeling generous and opted not to point it out, feeling yourself nearing your climax for the second time tonight. 

“Move your finger, in slow even circles.” You were surprised by how even your tone was, watching as he nodded slightly before doing exactly as instructed.

“God you’re so good for me, Sanji” Your voice was wavering now, shaking as your thighs began to tremble, your hips speeding up as you chased your mounting high. “My good boy, always m-making me cu-um” You wished you had been able to keep your eyes open when the wave of your orgasm crashed into you as though it were a welcomed tsunami. Your hips sputtered, stilling for a moment as his fingers never stopped. Your eyes opened to see his brow furrowed and his lips caught harshly between his teeth. 

“C-can I cum, p-please?” You pulled his hands off of you, your hips stilled as you lean down, chest against his. 

“You want to cum now?” He nodded, whining when your lips pressed to his neck, his hands sliding up your thighs and around to dully scratch at your hips. “You’ve been so good for me, but I need you to use your words.” You lifted your hips, bringing them down quickly once, a long drawn out whine escaping his open mouth. 

“P-please- '' You repeated your action, the same way Zoro had done to you when he was punctuating his sentence to prove he was better than ‘good’. 

“Please what, baby?” You nipped at his neck, sucking hickies. 

“Please, I need to cum, p-please l-let me-e.” 

“I think you can ask nicer than that.” You pushed yourself back a bit, supporting your weight on either side of his head, his eyes going from yours to your hanging breasts that were just out of his reach. ”Just ask nicely and I’ll give you exactly what you want.” His gaze moved back to meet yours, his pupils were blown out and his eyes glassy. 

“M-mom-mommy please,” Oh… As though he realized what he had just called you his face went bright red, breaking your eye contact, his hands balling on your hips. You watched in real time as he began getting in his own head, but you weren’t going to let that happen. 

“Does my baby need to cum that bad?” You used a hand to pull his chin back to look at you, shock written across his face. “Maybe just this once I’ll let you cum without asking nicely, what do you think?” You nodded his head for him, moving your hand back to support your weight while moving forward so he could finally reach your breast which had been just out of reach virtually all night. 

You knew the pace he liked towards the end, and you did your best to replicate it without his guidance, but when it proved quite difficult to do in this position you sat up fully, his tit falling from his mouth as you bounced on his cock. 

You knew this was about him, but when you felt the burning coil start to tighten in your loins for the third time that night you couldn’t stop yourself from rubbing your clit as you fucked yourself. You leaned backwards, your free hand supporting yourself on his knee, his cock hitting you at such an angle you thought you might be able to see his outline in your lower stomach. “S-Sanji I-I want you -to cum-m inside” 

His hands on your thighs tightened and he began thrusting up into you as best as he could, sitting up suddenly to make it easier to fuck you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him allowing you to focus on getting yourself off. He only managed a few thrusts before you felt a rush of warmth inside of you. You managed to time your own, weaker climax to correspond with his, your stomach tightening as you rolled your hips against his, moaning loudly into his shoulder. 

Both of you tried to catch your breath, heads resting on one another’s shoulder. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, even to your back. You could feel his cum begin to drip out down his softening cock which was still nestled between your walls, but despite that slightly uncomfortable feeling, neither of you moved. 

Neither of you knew that on the other side of the very thin wall that you shared with the guy’s room, the door had been locked and a certain swordsman was leaning against it. He would never admit to it, he would rather swallow his swords then admit it, but the moment he had seen you come outside long enough to go in the direction of the kitchen he knew where this was going. He had gone into the shared room, pleading it was under the gauze of an evening nap but when he flicked the lock his shirt was off, his pants followed closely behind. For what felt like half an hour he laid there in wait, almost falling asleep when he thought he may have been wrong. But when he heard your startled yelp when you noticed Sanji in your bedroom his cock began to stiffen. Since that moment he had been working his erection, cumming twice, the sound of your moans reminded him of the first night you two were together. He had been chasing those sounds every time he fucked you, but they were never the same. But as soon as Sanji’s tongue touched your engorged clit your first whimper was exactly the same. 

He had to be the one to make those sounds again, no matter what it took.

[bloody-cupcakes]

please please PLEASE some scary 11 x reader? I‘m a SUCKER for scary 11. when he gets angry, and invades ppls space, yells in their face? he can be so dark…. (swoons.)

what about him intentionally scaring the reader, to get them to be obedient for him? almost driving them into a panic attack, just so he can be the one to comfort them? 😳

Honestly I also have an unhealthy attraction to the Eleventh Doctor when he's acting all scary so-

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, implied kidnapping/Stockholm syndrome, the Doctor purposely upsets the reader using degrading words just so he can be the one to comfort them, the reader ends up distressed because of the Doctor and cries because of it, very brief shoving from the Doctor that could be seen as physical assault, gaslighting/manipulation

"What in the hell is wrong with you? I told you to stay on the TARDIS where it was safe so you wouldn't get hurt!" The Doctor didn't get truly upset often, but if there was one thing that was sure to bother him it was the thought of you getting hurt, or worse yet, getting away.

"I- I'm sorry! You weren't back when you said you'd be, I thought that- that something awful had happened!" You were visibly close to tears, but that didn't stop him from getting closer to you and shouting some more.

"I can regenerate, unlike you." His tone was cold and patronizing, the usual childlike mischief in his eyes replaced with a much darker look. "I'm also not stupid enough to ignore a few simple instructions left for me."

Despite the guilt you had for ignoring the one command he'd given you before he left, you still had enough of a defiant spark left in you to feel indignant over his words. "I am not stupid," you insisted with a glare while clenching your fists.

"Oh, really?" He scoffed as he moved forward, that single action causing you to shrink back and cower in fear. "You could've fooled me."

"I- I'm not," you reiterated, your voice not sounding nearly as confident as before. In fact, it was a little shaky, the fear that was beginning to build up within you spilling over into the way you spoke.

He noticed the change in your demeanor, feeling proud of himself for how easily he was able to get to you. Now all he needed to do was put the final nail in the coffin. "Maybe I should just take you back home to earth if you're going to insist on disobeying me."

A sudden gasp of disbelief left your throat when he said that. There was absolutely no way he'd actually leave you behind... right?

"No, Doctor, please, I'm so sorry, I'll never disobey you ever again, please-" Tears freely dripped from your eyes and down your face in salty streams as you reached for him, only to have him roughly yank your wrists back and use them to shove you away.

"I never should've brought you along with me in the first place. You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, and an even worse companion." He didn't raise his voice this time because he knew he didn't have to. He had you right where he wanted you to be, and that was in a fit of hysteria, reduced down to nothing more than a crying mess at the idea of him abandoning you.

"No... Doctor, please..." You sank to the floor in a heap of sobs, covering your face with your hands as you choked out apologies in a quivering voice. "I'm sorry... I'll never, ever disobey you again... please, Doctor, don't leave me..."

It was hard for him to keep from grinning at just how pitiful you looked, but he didn't want to mock you any more than he already had. "Oh, you poor thing." He knelt down beside you, the sadistic side of him that took pleasure from upsetting you now concealed behind his usual caring act.

"Don't leave me..." You begged while reaching out for him a second time, letting out a sigh of relief when he allowed you to cling onto the front of his jacket. "I'm sorry, Doctor..."

"I know you are. It wasn't your fault, dear. You were just feeling a little more anxious and worried for me than usual, which caused you to act carelessly and without thought." He rationalized your sudden emotional outburst as if he hadn't been the one to cause it in the first place. You were too focused on the kindness of his words and the warmth of his touch to notice.

Burying your face into his chest, you inhaled his scent, glad that he no longer seemed to be angry. "Yeah..." You mumbled out an agreement, too tired to do much of anything else.

The Doctor smiled at the docile way in which you were acting, pleased at just how easy it was for him to break you down into little pieces for the sole purpose of being the one to build you back up again.

[klaineharmony]

Why We Ship: Neo/Trinity (The Matrix)

I have not felt compelled to write one of these posts for a long time, but I watched The Matrix: Resurrections again while I was working this afternoon, and Goddess, I have so many feelings about these two.

I think it's hard to convey how utterly capitating the original Matrix was, back in 1999. And I could not have said, then, everything I can say about it now, because I didn't have the knowledge of myself, or the vocabulary, or simply the experience to be able to articulate why Neo and Trinity (and Trinity especially, but that's a separate post) felt like everything. Even apart from the incredible worldbuilding and commentary on society that was The Matrix itself, they were something special.

A lot of people got really salty and irritated with Resurrections because they felt like it was "less about the Matrix" and "more just about Neo and Trinity." And god damn, if that doesn't say everything about two different audiences who watched the original trilogy. If you didn't see that the whole trilogy was about Neo and Trinity's love from the beginning, then we were not watching the same films. Neo is The One because Trinity loves him; that is established in the first movie. He cannot be The One without her; he cannot believe in himself as The One without her and her love. "The Oracle told me that I would fall in love, and that the man I loved would be The One. So you see, Neo, you can't be dead. You can't be . . . because I love you." She literally brings him back from the dead with her love; she makes him The One because she loves him. She is the driving force behind all of it. And it's not a coincidence that Neo does the same for her in Reloaded; he catches her in midair, he pulls a bullet out of her body and keeps her from dying because she is everything to him.

And here I am, still writing a post that is more about Trinity than about Neo and Trinity together. But this is what still strikes me about them after all of these years: their love is complete and beautiful and all-consuming, but it is also grounded very firmly in the grim reality they are living. They are not blind about the fact that they could die; they know that every minute of every day, and every minute the spend in The Matrix, could be the last one. They do everything they can to keep that from happening, and they train with everything they have to try and prevent it, but they know, all the time, that one of them could lose the other. They cherish every moment they have, because they are living in this terrible world where another day is never a certainty. But even with all of that, and all that they feel, they are willing to fight, to do whatever needs to be done to try and bring down the machines and the Matrix. They do not shy away from what they see as their mission and their duty to others, even while they are so anchored in each other.

And it's part of what makes Revolutions so tortorous (I hated that movie when it came out; it broke my heart). They know. They've known it's coming; they've been waiting for it, and they go to die together. They still hope that somehow, they will make it, but if they don't, their entire intent is to die together. Because they love each other, they have literally saved each other's lives and brought each other back from the dead, and they have spent their entire time together trying to dismantle the Matrix. If they have to give up their lives to do it, then they will. And I think the thing that hurt so much, when I watched Revolutions as a much younger person (and who am I kidding, it still hurts) is that they still died apart. Trinity died first, and then Neo, and while Neo was with Trinity when she died, he had already been blinded and couldn't see her, and he died alone. And it felt like a betrayal of everything they were in the most gut-wrenching, soul-destroying way. Their love not only changed the world, it saved the world and destroyed the Matrix and altered the relationship between the machines and humans - and they still died apart.

I remember being emotionally devastated by that last film, so much so that I couldn't watch the trilogy again for years. I was so shattered by the ending, it hurt so much, that I couldn't bear to revisit it. And again, I don't know that I could have said that at the time, but I felt it.

When the trailer for Resurrections came out, I was so emotional the first time I watched it that I felt a little blindsided. I had packed away everything Neo and Trinity meant, because their ending hurt so much - and then there they were, on my screen again, getting another chance. Getting the second chance and the ending they should have had - defying the odds with their love one more time, and in an even more epic way. Neither of them is living, in the Matrix. As Thomas and Tiffany, they're existing. They're brainwashed. They barely remember who they used to be - Thomas is convinced it's all in his head, and Tiff is only Trinity when she's working on and riding her bikes. It's only when they find each other that they start to find themselves again. And even when Neo escapes and he's back in the real world, the hope of Trinity and his love for her is the only thing that keeps him strong enough to keep fighting, the only thing that allows him to access his former powers as The One.

They help each other survive. And it's complicated and difficult and not always pretty, and it's always in the midst of a world that is against them and trying to destroy them - but they survive because their love survives. They love together and fight together and survive together, always.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.22 Boys Club

Later that evening we arrive at the restaurant. I feel a bit awkward at first; after all, I’m having dinner with my boss. We’ve been pretty friendly lately and I wouldn’t want anyone at work to get the wrong idea. With her husband there, though, it feels less intimate.

Her husband’s name is Christopher and he seems pretty laid-back. I can see that he and Lucy are well balanced, and they have an ease with each other that leaves me longing to find the same.

Lucy’s phone buzzes and she checks her notifications. “Matt says the boys are having a blast with their cousin and not to worry about rushing back.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Christopher laughs. “I’ve barely even sipped on this glass of wine."

“You have kids?” I ask. “I guess I don’t know much about your personal life.”

“Yeah, 2 boys. One of my brothers is babysitting for us,” Lucy explains.

“One of your brothers? How many do you have?”

“4. I’m the only girl.”

“Get out! I have 4 sisters and I’m the only boy!” For some reason this mundane similarity excites me.

“Finally, someone who can relate to my pain! Nah, I’m kidding. My brothers are great. We all get along for the most part.”

“I’m pretty close to my sisters, I guess.” Last year I wouldn’t have tacked on that last bit, but my siblings were still a little salty about my summer of sin. “Sometimes we get on each other’s nerves, but it’s all love. How old are your kids?”

“We have 2-year-old twins. They’re pretty much inseparable.”

“Especially when they’re fighting! They’re really hard to separate then!” Christopher joked.

“I bet! You know, I have a twin. Her name is Chantal.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that! That’s so cool!” Lucy takes a sip of wine. “It was definitely unexpected, but we feel blessed. I guess I’m destined to be surrounded by boys.”

“She wouldn’t have it any other way,” Christopher tells me.

“Yeah, I’ve always been able to hold my own around the boys club. I guess I’m more comfortable with what I grew up around. Is it the same for you? I noticed most of the people you talk to at work are women.”

“Are they?” I hadn’t really thought about it, but I suppose she was right. “Hmm, I guess I am close to a lot of women, and I don’t really have any guy friends that I hang out with regularly.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re not big fans of gender norms ourselves,” Christopher says. “That’s something that factors into our parenting for sure.”

“Yeah, I have 2 dads and one of them is a drag queen, so gender norms weren’t really a thing in our house either,” I explain. “I lived with my mom until I was 14, though, and that was a different story.”

As soon as I mention my mom’s house a familiar chill starts spreading up my spine. My breaths get shallow and unsteady and my heart begins to race. I know what's coming and I try my best to stave it off. I grab my water and shift my focus to the coldness of the water in my mouth and how the glass feels in my hand. Luckily, this is enough to ground me.

After a few seconds of silence, Lucy leans in and says quietly, “Well, it’s good that you had some positive influences.” I can tell from the concern on her face that she knows the topic upset me, but she doesn't pry. Still, I feel exposed. “If you want, I can invite my brother so there will be at least one other guy there.”

“Cool,” I reply, still unsettled. Lucy reaches over and silently squeezes my hand. I can imagine her doing the same to one of her sons when they're upset and it comforts me. “Thank you,” I tell her softly.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For inviting me to dinner, and…everything, I guess.”

A woman approaches the table, smiling warmly. She’s around the same age as my parents with golden blonde hair that almost matches Lucy’s exactly, save for some silvery strands woven in. “How was everything?” she asks, placing her hands on Lucy's shoulders.

“Mama!” Lucy exclaims as the woman leans down and embraces her. “I was wondering where you’ve been, I haven’t seen you all night. Johnny, this is my mom Lucinda. Johnny is my assistant.”

“Nice to meet you, Johnny!” Lucinda tells me. “I hope you enjoyed your meal.”

“Oh, it was terrible,” I joke, grateful for an opportunity to change the tone. “Just awful! I definitely didn’t eat way too much of it and give myself indigestion.”

Lucinda laughs heartily. “Oh, you’re a little smart ass! I like you.”

I can tell she has good taste. “I’m glad someone appreciates it!”

“I do, and I want to let you know that your meal is on the house. Since it was so terrible and all,” Lucinda says, winking.

“Well, thanks! A good cook and generous, too. If you’re looking for another son, my parents would probably be glad to have someone take me off their hands.”

“I think I’m good on sons for now, but I’ll keep feeding you if you keep coming back.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[albatmobile]

I need another fic where jayroy x reader is in the league for… reasons 🫣

I also now need this 😫

the other fic (x)

a conundrum of redheaded proportions

next: [2] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4k includes: misunderstandings, confessions, selectively mute!reader, blow jobs, vaginal sex, deep throating, praise kink, spitroasting, begging, lots of smut y'all ur welcome, voyeurism, jealousy, Justice league AU

𓅪 previous hookup fem!reader x jason todd, eventual fem!reader x roy harper, eventual fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

my Hero OC! Cardinal comes from this series: tumblr [1] [2] | ao3

It's a well-known fact amongst The League that you like redheads.

From your first fling with Wally, drunken kiss with Kori, to your summer romance with Kate and that one-time thing with Jason back when his locks were more fiery than his personality, you’ve always seemed to gravitate towards red. 

Hell, he’d even heard rumors that you’d been in a threesome with Babs and Artemis on your mission to Themyscira a summer or so ago. 

What Roy can’t figure out is why you’ve never even talked to him let alone looked at him.

Is he a defective redhead or something?

Just approach her, they said.

Just introduce yourself, they said.

Well, he’s fucking tried.

You aren’t one to talk in uniform and only the redheads in the league, excluding Roy, know what you look like underneath your infamous, skin-tight burgundy vinyl. 

And then, there you are.

Right in front of him.

Roy doesn’t realize his breath’s stopped until his head begins to feel faint and he’s forced to gulp in air desperately like Spongebob in that one episode.

And then you’re walking toward him.

Jason shifts beside him, but Roy’s more focused on you.

Your hips sway hypnotically with each purposeful step you take closer, pulling Roy deeper into your unforgiving trance.

Your hand makes a tiny wave, so tiny Roy’s sure if he blinked he’d miss it, right at him.

No fucking way.

Roy’s hand shoots up with a nervous wave back that stills as soon as you shoot him a questioning head tilt. He hears the leather of Jason’s jacket shift from behind him and looks just in time to see his friend finish waving at you.

Roy isn’t salty.

“There’s no way she’s hot under that shit,” he mutters lowly to his friend once you’ve passed by.

Roy’s salty.

“I fucked her,” Jason says the statement like it’s an actual response and not just a blatant brag.

“Yeah,” Roy huffs, focusing back on packing up his gym bag, “so?”

“So,” Jason quirks a knowing brow, “you dissing my taste in women?”

“No!” Roy cries out, then slumps back against the locker room bench with a groan. “Is there something wrong with me, Jay? Am I the ugly one?”

“What does your mug being a mess have to do with her?” 

Jason’s never had a quiet voice. His baritone growl always demanded attention whether he meant it to or not. Unfortunately for Roy, this time it seems to have attracted your attention because your usual confident gate stutters just slightly enough for Roy to take notice.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Roy smacks Jason in the arm, yelping slightly when he retaliates with full force. 

“Jesus, dude. You tryin’ to kill me, or something?” Roy groans.

“You tryin’ to offend me, or something?” Jason mocks him.

Roy finishes zipping up his bag with a dramatic zip and huff, “Course not. Sorry, Jaybird.”

Another quick hit to Roy’s already undoubtedly bruised arm.

“Not here,” Jason chastises him, his nose wrinkling easily at the offending nickname. 

Roy watches as he looks towards all the hidden cameras in the room, something they’d both mapped out within the first few days of being welcomed aboard the Watchtower.

“For sure,” Roy agrees distractedly as he catches a glimpse of Barry’s outfit and briefly mistakes it for you. “Sorry, I’m just out of it today.”

“So I see,” Jason says, raising an easy brow. 

“Nothing gets passed you now, eh?” Roy tries to joke but Jason only returns him with a knowing, read: asshole-ish, look like he’s already figured Roy out and, hell, he probably has. He catches a whiff of his uniform and winces, picking distastefully at the fabric on the chest of his sweaty Arsenal getup. “Fuck off, man,” he huffs. “Let’s just eat so we can get the fuck out of these monkey suits.” 

𓅪𓅪𓅪

The cafeteria is nearly empty at this hour, Roy notes with a pleased hum. He quickly becomes distracted, however, by the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen.

Algie and Rita are behind the counter again tonight, so Roy knows the food’s going to be fire. 

“Ladies,” Roy greets playfully with a waggle of his brows at the elderly women. As a result, they award him with an extra scoop of mashed potatoes. Score!

Jason greets them politely before following behind Roy to the closest table.

It’s always quiet around this hour, though it doesn’t mean heroes are necessarily holed up asleep in their rooms. Mission stragglers, graveyard shift Watchtower workers and heroes zeta-tubing in for their debriefs are constantly ongoing. In quiet moments like this, though, Roy really does feel like it’s just him and Jay in space.

“So, you going to tell me what’s been bugging you tonight?” Jason asks though Roy thinks he already knows.

Roy glances around the empty cafeteria, save for a single table taken in the way back, before leaning in to whisper anyway. “It’s that chick.”

Jason shoots the redhead an unimpressed look. “Chick, seriously?” he admonishes Roy.

Roy sighs, pushing around the mashed potatoes on his tray, “I’m not gonna say her name when you already know.”

Jason simply hums in response as he unlocks and removes his helmet to eat.

Roy has never been quiet when it comes to the people he’s interested in and, sure, that’s how it started off with you, but you’re different. 

No, literally, you don’t speak. 

Not that you can’t, per se, just selectively and never to Roy.

Except one time. Your first mission alone with him.

Roy was usually unable to understand your movements, signals and signs outside the costume (not that you were ever caught dead on the Watchtower out of costume). After all the years of battling side by side on missions, Roy knows your battlefield code like the back of his hand. Slight shift of your head to the right: back you up, shift to the left: back up, all the way down to your cute little hand movements that call out battle strategy. 

Quiet but mighty. Never one to mess with. 

Roy knows firsthand.

The one thing he’d never known until that one time, though? Your voice.

It was during the midst of a battle with Enchantress and Gorilla Grodd. You and Roy had been put in charge of reconnaissance for team Alpha when a henchman strayed way too close to the tree Roy was stationed behind. 

You’d clicked your comm button three times to alert Roy, but it was already too late. 

The guard startled and went for his radio, forcing Roy to draw an arrow. Though the hit itself was quiet, the thud of the man’s armored body was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the general vicinity. 

Cutely enough, you turned to Roy, watching as he drew his bow and nodded to you as you got into a defensive position. 

He then proceeded to watch you take on tens of henchmen at a time, disarming their guns before they could even aim them. It was a shame that Roy’d been so preoccupied with your safety, no, namely distracted by how the shiny material of your suit stretched across your huge ass, to focus on protecting himself.

Up until that point, everything had been going smoothly. That is, until-

“ROY!”

You weren’t supposed to use names other than alias’ out of the field, but your slip-up had seemed so unintentional he didn’t need to see underneath the mask to know you were panicking. He could hear your regret in your loud silence for allowing your voice to slip through and leak into the chilly night air.

Your body crashed into his with such a ferocious force, that he had no choice but to shift out of the way. He hit the ground and you landed on top of him just in time for him to avoid the deadly ray of Enchantress’ incantation. 

You, however? Not so much. 

By jumping in front of Roy, you’d taken the brunt of the attack practically head-on.

The shock of hearing his name from you lasted mere milliseconds before you were on the ground, screaming bloody murder under the intense pain from the spell you’d just saved Roy from. He’d never thanked you for taking a proverbial bullet of kinds for him, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t at least tried. You’d been conveniently absent from the post-mission debrief and, after checking out the empty med bay, Roy hung around outside the women’s locker room long enough to get booted by a wary Supes. 

Eventually, Roy gave up trying to catch you and, thus, his ‘thank you’ went unsaid.

And now, here you are. Again.

Seeing you twice in one night, Roy feels like he’s hit the jackpot. 

Jason, being the asshole he is, waves you over as soon as his eyes catch yours.

Your thick thighs move languidly, shifting from side to side with each tantalizing sway of your perfect figure. You’re stunning.

Roy clears his throat, coming back down to the present moment just in time for Jason to… introduce the two of you to each other. Huh?

Jason and Roy are the only ones in the cafeteria, Algie and Rita having reverted back to stirring pots in the back kitchen. 

It’d be weird if they made you sit alone, right? 

Right? 

That has to be why Jason is doing all of this.

Your flashy red stops right in front of him before he has a chance to think further on the topic. At this point, you’re close enough that your enchanting perfume has slowly started to invade his senses. Your scent quickly takes complete hold over him, making you the only thing he can focus on.

At Roy’s silent staring, Jason clears his throat, “Roy, meet Cardinal. Cardinal, Roy.”

Even behind the security of his domino mask, Roy can practically see the mirth in the outlaw’s emerald eyes. 

Roy’s completely lost for words. 

Luckily, it doesn’t seem to be an issue with you very much being in the same boat. 

He watches your every minute movement diligently so as not to miss this crucial moment. His eyes openly flick over your curves while your attention is diverted toward the raven-haired man next to you. 

It’s been years since Roy’s been this close to you and he can’t help but greedily drink your hypnotizing presence down to the last drop like a fucking dog. If Elastic Man and Booster Gold hadn’t been occupying the only other table in the cafeteria, Roy would take you right here and now, Jason’s voyeur-ass be damned. 

Roy watches as you huff slightly and shoulder his best friend’s arm lightly. Jason laughs easily at the cute contact, leaving Roy to wish he knew you well enough to be in on the joke, too. Well, to be honest, he just wishes he knew you period.

Roy clears his throat, going along with unnecessary niceties by extending his hand out to you with a false confidence he definitely wasn’t feeling. “What’s up, babe?” he greets overly casual.

Your head continues to face him head-on. He’s pretty sure if he could see anything under the mask you’d be wearing a deadpan stare. The two of you have known of each other for years, working alongside each other the entire time- so, why are you being introduced to Roy and why is he acting like a douche?

He watches you turn to Jason and point at yourself, then your head, then Roy and Jason seems to understand immediately. 

“Yeah, well, I figured I’d just properly introduce you guys,” he says, running a sheepish hand through his grey streak. “I don’t know,” he trails off with a sexy laugh that has even Roy fawning over him.

Roy really doesn’t stand a chance with Jason here. 

Fuck.

Roy supposes you shoot him another deadpan glare because Jason, honest to god, giggles. 

Fuck.

How is Roy supposed to compete with Jay’s rugged attractiveness when Roy’s shorter with half the game?

What happened to the awkward Jason Roy’d met all those years prior?

No, seriously, Jason had always been an awkward fuck, but for some reason, it seemed to work for him. Roy, on the other hand, was spontaneous, loud, over-the-top and seemed to drive off every promising prospect in sight, namely you.

You give Roy a timid wave that has Jason raising a brow, but Roy just responds earnestly. “Big fan of your work, Cardinal,” Roy says, leaning in across the table to get closer to you before he can stop himself. “Even bigger fan of that suit, beautiful.”

The redhead watches as your arms subconsciously move to cover your stomach and instantly backs off when Jason pushes him back into his seat.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” Jason says. “He hasn’t gotten laid since he got sober.”

He hears your tiny “oh” whispered into the quiet of the cafeteria and nearly loses it.

He wants you.

He needs you. 

“It’s true. I’m pathetic,” is what he ends up choking out.

Your head tilts at him with your hand floating to where your mouth is hidden under your vinyl confines. You look Jason’s way again before Roy hears your melodic giggle. He swears the gates of heaven have opened. He can practically hear the harps now as he watches the little shakes in your shoulders move in time with the angelic noise.

Saint Peter, Roy pleads with whatever fuckers are out there, please call my fucking name. Preferably soon… No, preferably now while you’re still amused by his obnoxious, whore-like behavior.

“Would you want to sit?” Jason motions to the chair you’re standing behind which sits right between Jason and Roy. You glance down at your tray which has a grab-n-go sandwich on it from one of the fridges right next to the food counter then back up at Roy. “It’s cool if not. I know idiot over here can be a lot.”

“Hey, I resent that.”

“I’m sure you do, buddy,” Jason says, picking lightly at his chicken before finally taking a bite. 

Jason always said the food here was good, but Roy knows it’s nothing compared to Alfred’s cooking back home.

Your giggling cuts off their old-married couple banter just like that. In fact, your laughter draws the attention of both men at the table so instantaneously that neither has time to cover up their reactions to the unfamiliar sound they’ve been lucky enough to hear twice now tonight.

Jason’s fork freezes momentarily on the way to his mouth before he quickly moves as if it’d never happened. Roy, on the other hand, remains completely stupefied by your captivating, seemingly effortless charm.

He knows deep down that there’s no way you’ll actually stay, though it doesn’t stop him from fantasizing about you ripping off your mask for him to take in what’s been forbidden for all these years. Part of him still holds out hope that, because it’s just him and Jason, you’ll actually do it, that you’ll actually give in and stay. Maybe the ripping off the mask is a bit too extreme, Roy mentally berates himself. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll lift the mask up past your nose and, at the very least, maybe you’ll just stay.

He watches with bated breath as you glance down at the seat, only to have his stomach sink seconds later when you shake your head. You pick up your sandwich and motion with your head toward the exit. 

Your continued lack of verbal response further proves there’s no way you’d ever even think about lifting up your mask to eat with Roy here. 

He is defective. 

“No worries,” Roy says as he waves you off with a jerky, then overly casual nature. 

Holy fuck, why can’t he just act normal around you?

“We’re usually in here around this hour if you ever do want to meet up,” Jason adds helpfully. Roy’ll be sure to thank him later for it. That is, right after he finishes kicking his ass for putting him through this embarrassment. “It’s usually just us down here at this hour, anyway. It’d be nice to catch up.”

You nod eagerly at both of them, leaving Jason to laugh. 

Roy watches you rub anxiously at your forearm, only to spur into action when your tray nearly goes tumbling because of it. You catch the sandwich easily and Roy catches the tray before it can even get close to the ground, but that doesn’t stop you from bending down, too.

At the sight of the tray safe in his hand, you, still bent over, look up, causing your noses to bump. 

“I can take care of you,” Roy’s grave voice is nearly a whisper in the quiet of the large room. You gasp slightly and startle backward, causing Roy to backtrack in a slightly higher-pitched voice. “They tray, I mean,” he clears his throat until his voice reaches its normal timbre. “I can take care of the tray for you.”

You seem to be momentarily frozen, much to Roy’s surprise, though it doesn’t last for long. Soon, you’re nodding distractedly, backing away from their table all the while. 

With your wrapped sandwich in one hand, you use the other to give a hasty thumbs up.

Roy waves you off with a defeated smile, bidding you a cursory goodnight.

Then you’re turning on your heel, speeding for the exit at a pace even Wally wouldn’t be able to keep up with.

He fucked up.

Neither he nor Jason can pull their eyes off you as you saunter away. 

Roy bites down harder on his chapped, bottom lip with each stomp of your heels as it jiggles your infamous cheeks in the process. Damn, what Roy wouldn’t do to get his hands on as much of your ass as he could manage. He knows there’s no way your ass would fit in the palms of his hands, but damn, if the thought alone doesn’t leave him drooling.

He doesn’t even notice the tent forming in his lap until Jason shoots him an unimpressed stare. 

“You’ve got it bad, bro,” Jason mutters into his water glass. 

𓅪𓅪𓅪

Roy does have it bad.

So bad that he makes his best friend take care of the raging boner you’d left him with.

Jason wasn’t lying when he said Roy hadn’t been laid since he’d sobered up around two years ago, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t jacking it almost every night. He’s found that the showers between the hours of four and five am are a safe haven for him to quickly get off, but tonight he needs something more.

Tonight’s different.

Roy presses Jason against the tiled wall and fucks into his tight ass all while imagining your wet pussy and fucked-out face. Roy comes embarrassingly fast, something Jason doesn’t let slide. He puts Roy to work, forcing his dick down his throat with a rough hand gripping his fiery hair until he comes all over Roy’s freckled face with a grunt.

It’s good and fine and whatever… Jason’s extremely attractive- that’s not the issue. 

The issue is that he’s not you.

Jason takes one look at Roy’s constipated face and sighs, wiping gently at the remaining beads of come on the tip of his cock with Roy’s discarded boxers.

“Just talk to her,” he says before leaving Roy to drown under the stream of his post-nut misery.

𓅪𓅪𓅪

He’s rounding the corner to his dorm room in his towel when he runs right smack into you and you’re…

“Holy shit,” Roy can’t help the airy moan that escapes at the sight of you in a loosely tied silk robe- only a silk robe.

You’re breathtaking. 

Your billowing hair, gleaming eyes and, overall, sinful features leave Roy’s mouth hanging open. Speaking of mouths, your supple, pouty lips are screaming at Roy to slip his dick between them and choke you with his length until he sees tears in the corners of your sex-doll eyes. 

Even in the fluorescent lights of the Watchtower hallways, your skin softly glows, radiating deep down into Roy’s bones. 

He needs to get his hands on you. 

Your features all meld together perfectly in a way that makes sense and he wonders how he ever could’ve imagined you to look any other way.

You tilt your head at him but don’t make to pass. It’s like you’re captivated by his captivation and, if anything, it only serves to captivate Roy further. 

You seem somewhat startled, though it’s obvious you’re trying to hide it. Roy wishes he could control his reaction; he really does, but you don’t know what you’re doing to him. Your startled face steadily shifts, leaving Roy to wonder if maybe you do. Maybe you know exactly what kind of effect you’re having on him. 

The teasing glint in your eyes seems to point to the latter and it’s making Roy weak in his already wobbly knees.

The sight of your costumed-self in the past has been enough to render him speechless. Now you’re here, standing in front of Roy’s rabid form with your robe steadily slipping from your silky shoulder and further down your bicep. 

Needless to say, the one-on-one contact with you is dizzying. It’s as if he’s drowning in the thick syrup of your honey-sweet figure without you ever having uttered a word other than his name. 

A succubus of sorts, for sure.

You’re hypnotizing and Roy knows he’s yet to pick his jaw up off the floor but can’t bring himself to stop. 

A steady breeze tickles at his mid-drift and it’s then he realizes he’s also forgotten to pick up his fucking towel in the process.

While Roy’s been completely stupefied by your ethereal features, you’ve been staring at his half-mast cock with an unreadable look. Roy inwardly groans when he realizes that Jason would probably know what it meant but erases the thought as soon as it pops into his head.

Roy looks down at his freckled, pink-tipped dick, then back up at you, then back down again and back up.

“Jeez,” he spouts, scrambling to the floor to snatch up the Justice League embroidered towels they supplied in the locker rooms. “Sorry,” his voice is thick with want as he squeezes his words out from behind a lump in his throat you’ve conveniently caused. “Didn’t see you there,” he says once he’s popped back up and secured his towel. “You alright?”

Your eyes flick down to his now completely erect cock that’s covered once again by his towel, then back up to his light green eyes. He follows the motion self-consciously, eagerly awaiting your next move. 

You’re a wild card to him. He can truly say you’re one of the few people he’s unable to read and one of the only people that he never knows what you’re going to do next. 

You’re a captivating mystery, an enigma for Roy’s puzzle-loving brain to tirelessly work at. And here you are, revealing almost everything to him while still revealing absolutely nothing. 

You nod and he watches as a magnificent blush coats your cheeks, though not the ones he’s been carnally craving.

“Sorry,” Roy sputters again as you continue past him like nothing had even happened. Like Roy hadn’t been staring at you for two minutes straight. 

You shake your head easily as if to say you don’t care, but Roy hopes you do. 

You continue past him with your usual confident stride, leaving Roy to wonder how you can possibly expect him to move at all with the trance you’ve put on him. His wobbly knees struggle to remain upright as your silent padding grows more and more distant.

Your scent lingers in the air around him like a cruel reminder of what could’ve been.

When he’s finally able, he turns around to watch your ass jiggle further and further down the hall with a heavy heart and even heavier blue balls. His heart nearly stops when you actually turn around to see if he’s still there, only to blush and duck your head back around on account of his blatant staring.

And so, the chase continues.

A/N: i’ve fully fallen in love w my characterization of roy and i’m absolutely WRECKED about it ok? i hope u feel the same and let me know if u do! ALSO ok I wrote this back in March (before I broke my pinky lol) but I did edit recently, but if it sounds a bit off from my current stuff that’s why :,P

Important: Cardinal is not usually mute, I take a lot of her hero design from Black Bat and thought it would be cool to include another aspect of Cassandra's character, hence this!

[next] || ao3 || pinned || ways to support

[helshollowhalls]

I have some thoughts. On Mysta's graduation. And the current state of Nijisanji in general.

At the end of the day, I am not surprised. I expected someone else to graduate first, hell I even expected Niji to keep more of an iron grip on their money makers aka Luxiem in order to milk them for more cash, but I digress.

Mysta is graduating and it only goes to show that their 'money first, talent... third? last?' approach comes back to bite them in the arse. This might be the potential wakeup call for everyone who has yet to realize that the entire English branch of Nijisanji is crumbling away in record time because of the absolutely abysmal talent management and treatment of the livers.

I refrained from speculating who would be the next ones to graduate after Nina - simply because I will leave that job to the anonymous leakers on the site/platform that shall not be named here. Apparently Shu and Vox were brought up as the potential next people to graduate (this is according to a recent Depressed Nousagi stream but he didn't show any screenshots so take that with a massive bucket of salt.) Mysta was allegedly also mentioned down the line, but he seemingly wasn't the first choice.

Honestly, if you think about it the entirety of Luxiem must be so done mentally. They didn't know what to expect when they signed up to become Nijisanji's first male English-speaking Vtuber group. They waltz onto the scene, explode in popularity all over the world out of nowhere basically and suddenly they're Niji EN's favorite child. The company is milking them for all they have because OH BOI do they rake in the cash - not to mention from a target audience that was completely ignored before in the EN corporate sphere - female viewers.

In a lot of things the boys weren't given any choice. Jazz On The Clock? The first ever second unit song in Niji EN ever and it was released even before their anniversary. With Luxiem being the fourth EN wave in total it felt a little counterintuitive - Wouldn't they start another potential wave of unit songs with LazuLight, their first wave? Well, now that Light Me Up is out and Pomu talked about the entire fiasco of LazuLight basically fighting management tooth and nail to be allowed a second unit song, I think most of us can guess how things are going at Anycolor. And in case you're not entirely convinced, just look at the amount of Luxiem merch Niji has put out compared to any other EN wave.

It's not just JotC, but their anniversary/irl Japan meetup stream as well. That stream was something that personally really rubbed me the wrong way because it felt very inauthentic. It felt like the five of them were just shoved into a room at the Niji HQ to play Smash and do some batsus while the executives and managers proceeded to lock the doors and breath down their necks for the entirety of the stream. The stream had a very different feel to it - Comparing it to other Luxiem collab streams or even other anniversary streams. Management didn't consider it necessary to order Obsydia or Ethyria to Japan and record their anniversary streams at the Niji HQ - Well, that would be because none of them make the company as much sweet sweet cash as Luxiem - Closest would maybe be Selen. And even she has been public about the management fuck-ups - I am talking about her outfit design contest here, of course.

But back to Luxiem. I don't follow them as closely as I used to in the beginning, infact I am only subscribed to Shu out of the five, so let's start from here.

The entire wave collectively tweeted very salty and sarcastic remarks about the official announcement of the EN 3D Live Concert being "postponed due to COVID" earlier this year. But out of all of them, it seemingly hit Shu the hardest. I noticed that he was streaming less and less, infact he still isn't streaming as much as he used to.

Ike... oh boi, where do I even begin. Judging from his spontaneous irl hangout with Vox recently and the amount of projects he has been involved in as a vocal mixer, not to mention his two recent songs of which one is an original, this man seems to be working 30 hours a day and is stressed to the max.

Mysta made his personal situation and his ongoing burnout/lack of goals to work towards very clear in his graduation announcement stream, so I won't go into detail.

Vox has also been streaming less frequently. During the course of his employment at Nijisanji he got diagnosed with ADHD and PTSD (I believe), started therapy and medication, had a panic attack during an ASMR stream, started new projects and also some personal issues in his private life to deal with.

I have to be honest about Luca - I don't really know anything about what is going on with him apart from the fact that he planned to move again and got a puppy.

In conclusion, I could see reasons for anyone of them graduating anytime soon. Management isn't treating them well - Management isn't treating anyone in EN well, it seems - and at some point that fact doesn't warrant staying with the company anymore. Plus, money isn't really an issue for any of them at this point I assume - Especially Vox and Mysta. Both of them have enough money to fulfill their potential aspirations as indies or under another agency or manager.

Infact, apart from a couple of livers I can see anyone graduating next because of how Nijisanji handles things.

Some may argue that it all started going downhill when they kicked Yugo or when Zaion got terminated - Regardless of what you think, at the end of the day, the entire branch is seemingly falling apart right in front of us and Nijisanji's reputation is tanking, especially with the English-speaking fanbase, while Hololive idly sits by and watches the drama unfold.

The consequences of Mysta leaving and the message it sends about Nijisanji and how they treat their livers can't be understated.

[whumping-valentine]

Content: Ocean Whump, Bloodloss, Shipwreck aftermath

       The air was warm and the winds blew cold against the skin, carrying with it specks of sand and the smell of the salty seaside. Whumpee laid dazed on the shore, squishy wet sand seeping through their squeezing fingertips. The waves crashed against them, lapping them over and over, until they finally woke up, grains of sand uncomfortably covering their whole body. In their hair, clothes, and even eyes as they attempted to wipe them out.

       They painfully blinked their eyes open, sand and salt not doing them any favors. The skies were dark and cloudy with not a speck of light shining through them. The grey heavens rumbled with thunder, soon to storm. Though that didn’t make much sense. It already did rain, the sailor thought as memories returned. They were shipwrecked in a sudden seastorm, a bit too sudden if you ask them. Whatever, it didn’t matter. The only thing that did is the now; they were alive.

       They took a breath, and with shaking arms they pushed themself to their stumbling feet, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Their head was pounding, keeping it low, their eyes squeezed shut as they held their hand to their forehead, limping across the beach in bare feet. They could feel raindrops begin to hit against them, so they opened their eyes and lifted their head. They jumped back in surprise, letting out a yelp. Directly in front of them stood a tall figure, wearing a cloak, face covered, pale knuckles clutching onto the wooden pole of a lantern they carried.

      The sailor furrowed their brow and blanked, wondering if it were some kind of hallucination. “Wha- who- who are yo—?”

       “You’re bleeding.” The figure said, cutting them off. Despite the lapping waves and falling rain, their voice sounded loud and isolated.

       “Wha- what? N-no I’m n—” The sailor refuted, but the figure used the stick end of the pole to pull back their black coat, revealing a large gash across their stomach.

       “There’s also a trail of blood behind you.” They said, and the sailor turned their head to look at the bloodsoaked shore, then back at the figure,  “You’re going to bleed out.”

Whumpee simply fell to their knees, too shocked at the sight of blood to process it. They fainted, and when they awoke a second time, they were laying on a firm, springy mattress, their wounds bandaged and soaked with blood. They moved, and winced at the pain in their abdomen, the shock wearing off as their body throbbed with various aches and pains.

"Careful now." The cloaked figure spoke, putting a hand to their chest as they pushed them back down, "Don't hurt yourself any further, you need to rest. You had a lot of nasty marks after that wreck. You're very lucky I was there."

"Where... where am I?"

"In my lighthouse. I'm the keeper here on these shores, and these shores have many stories to tell."

"All sailors, pirates, and lighthouse keepers have stories to tell. Such is the sea."

       “Mm, well I'm sure you have no stories like mine. Each storm here tells one. And they're much more than mere stories."

"How so?"

"The weather of this coast is caused by the merfolk. They rest in these waters, and can control the skies. They like to sink the ships of those who sail too deep into their turf. Like you."

       “Merfolk?” Whumpee scoffed, “Ah, great. My life is in the hands of a crazy lighthouse keeper.”

       “Lighthouse keeper, yes, but I’d think twice about calling me crazy.” They said as they proceeded to lay an old quilt overtop them. “For one, I ain’t crazy. For two, it’s as you said, your life is in my hands. I could leave you to bleed out on that shore if I really wanted to, it makes no difference to me. Though then again, I quite appreciate the company.”

       “Hmph. Well, thanks, I guess. No, just— thank you. I- I’m still a bit… dazed. That storm came out of nowhere.”

      “It’s as I said, sweet sailor. Merfolk don’t take too kindly to humans out here. They’re actually a kind of fairy, you know? Yeah. They ain't all what they appear to be. You can never be too careful out here. What’s your name, may I ask?”

       “Whumpee.” They whispered weakly, “What about you?”

       The lighthouse keeper pulled their mask down, and smiled, “Whumper.”

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Another bad episode. A numerous callbacks to got (with zero subtlety), and of course, TB had 90% of screentime. Funny how in supposed TG centered episodes (1-4) the blacks still had a decent amount of screentime and relevance, just remember the aftermath of B&C. But this? Oh, someone counted and apparently aemond appeared for... 93 seconds. In the whole episode. It's official now, he actually was more relevant and present in s1 (unless he gets like 20+ minutes in season finale which won't happen). I just don't understand why was he promoted as a main character this season. It was such a dirty marketing trick. Not to mention other things they relentlessly pushed during promo, like his loyalty, scenes with helaena... It's not about subverting expectations, it's straight up lying by giving false answers to the questions of the people and journalists who actually correctly predicted what was going to happen from the beginning. Oh well, fool me once, I'm just happy this mess is over next week. Bye bye s3. Still salty they made me hate something I was passionate about for years, though.

Hello!

I understand you completely. This episode was one giant ball of boredom. The only two times I woke up a bit were for Tom's brilliant portrayal of pain and for the final scene with Aemond in Vhagar. Never in a million years coud I imagine that the highlight of a HotD episode for me will be a character mounting a horse.

And Aemond... Well. I still feel very angry about the way the show treated him this season but at the same time I'm already kind of numb to it. It wouldn't even be that surprising for me amymore if the writers have him abuse Helaena, of all people, in the finale, either psychologically or physically (or both). Then it will officially became a complete circus.

On the one hand, I am happy we got as much Ewan in the promo as we did - but I sure hope he will wind a way to use this goddamn show in his own interests just as HBO used him.

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 5: Salty Lips

Warnings: Tarot misinformation, penetrative vaginal sex, manipulation, fluff, smut, then angsty tears. 18+ Minors DNI.

Apparently I don't know how to schedule things so I am posting earlier than expected. Please file your complaints accordingly.

Word Count: 9.4 K

Summary: Becky has settled into the rhythm of life at Graceland over the first few days there, though she still has not had a full tour. Luckily, her hosts finally get it together to show her around. She goes to visit her sister, but encounters an unexpected guest. At least for her.

I need to first thank my alpha, @whositmcwhatsit for reading the first draft and giving me feedback as she corrected my grammar. Which is generally bad. Thanks Jade, I some how fooled you into hanging out with me and I would feel guilty for asking you to read my stuff, because it takes you away from your own writing which is necessary and needed for the good of the fandom. But you always make my work better so I cannot feel guilty at all. No, I selfishly will take every glance and glint and comment you give me.

Also thanks to my fellow Elvis sister wives for all their morale support and brilliance. Just being in your orbit is a gift: @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love

If you need to catch up first:

Chapter 4: Kaleidoscope

or start from the beginning: No One Walks Out On Big Daddy Masterlist

Chapter 5: Salty Lips  

11:45 a.m. Thursday, June 19, 1975

Graceland Estate, Memphis, TN

A cardinal twittered loudly, joined by a chickadee, and Becky was so ensconced in the bubble of idyllic life at Graceland that she wondered if this musical rendition wasn’t just for her benefit. Lisa gave an excited hum where she sat next to Becky on top of the picnic table by the pool and slapped down another tarot card.

“Alright, Becky, ‘Page of Swords’, what does this one mean?”

Becky looked closely at the drawing, closing one eye and squinting nearer for effect.

“Well, babt,” Becky mused, trying to stifle a grin and pronounce the girl’s fortune with complete confidence. “They all go together.” She set it next to the other cards they had drawn: Strength, The Chariot and The Moon. Becky was not sure how many cards you were supposed to put down when reading tarot, but four seemed like a good number.

”So?” Lisa slapped her hand on the table.

“Well, so, Page of Swords, as we can see here now, obviously means you are gonna live on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and you’ll have yellow tights, and a pretty pink dress, and a big ol’ sword that you’ll be very good at using,”

“I’m already pretty good with my daddy’s samurai sword, wanna see?”

“Hmmm, maybe later.”

Becky thought of her shooting lesson the other day and decided against more deadly weapons. Getting through the day without letting Lisa kill or be killed would count as a win for bonding with the kid of her new  - lover? fling? friend? - whatever Elvis was to her. She decided to go with fling. A short fling. They were two grown adults having a casual, fun, very short fling. Well, one rock star and one adult. 

Was she even an adult? She had spent most of the last three days playing with a seven year old until the late afternoon, and then playing with Elvis into the night. She felt like she had wandered into a strange, enchanted land where all the adults acted like children and all the children acted like adults. Water fights, target practice, ice cream for breakfast, and impulsive shopping sprees. 

Not having a schedule or others depending on her had been freeing at first, but now, on day four of life at Graceland, Becky had started to feel somewhat unmoored from reality away from the structure of her daily life back home.

She looked down at the table, where Lisa was tapping on the next card, and continued her tarot reading. 

“Ok, see here, Strength, that’s an angel with a lion. Of course, now, that is just symbolic. The angel is your conscience telling you the right thing to do, but you won’t have this moral confidence until you own a lion. They can be very difficult pets, I hear, I recommend getting an ice locker for all the gazelle meat you are going to need to feed it.”

“You’re silly, Becky, no one owns lions as pets.”

“No one yet, but hey baby, according to your fortune, you are gonna change all that. There’s nothing you can do. It’s in the cards. That means it has to happen.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, her lips betraying a smile. “Ok, what else?”

“Well, here, The Chariot, clearly one day you will go to Egypt and meet a prince -”

“And marry him?”

“Well, that depends. On whether you like him or wanna feed him to your lion?” Becky growled and gashed her teeth playfully as if she was going to eat Lisa’s shoulder. Just as Lisa shrieked and hit Becky, the back door slammed and they glanced over to see Elvis’ aunt Delta stagger out.

“Alright, Lisa Marie now, s’getting to be round lunch time. I just got Ma settled out in the rockin’ chair, so it’s time for you to come eat.” Delta looked Becky up and down as she spoke. 

“Whatcha y’all got goin on?” she said, and Becky noticed Lisa stiffen and gather up the cards.

“We’re just playing Old Maid, Aunt Delta.”

Becky raised her eyebrow at Lisa, who just shook her head with a crafty smile. Becky turned to the older woman. Hmmm, I guess these older ladies don’t approve of mystical practices. Or maybe they only let one resident here get away doing whatever he wanted. 

She thought of Elvis’ grandmother, who had turned to her after he had left the dinner table the night before, taken her arm and whispered low:

“I hope ya don’t break his heart, like all the rest. That young boy ova there has been through so much. Don’t know why he canna find a good woman. Guess they just don’t make us like they used ta.” Minnie Mae had then released Becky’s hand and spit part of her chew into the tea cup next to her dinner plate. 

Becky only had a moment to feel uneasy before Elvis swooped back in and pulled her into the den and onto his lap, where he cajoled Lisa to perform “Crocodile Rock” for the group on top of the coffee table. 

No, I reckon these good ole girls who sit around bemoaning the lack of any good women left would probably not go in for tarot cards, Becky thought, as she looked at Elvis’ aunt.

“How are you doing today, Ms. Presley?”

“Hmmm, it’s Biggs. And it’s Mrs. And never you mind, you can save it, I don’t care for you kissing up ta me. I know your kind.” 

Becky tightened her smile at Delta’s grimace, wondering if that was the faint odor of vodka wafting off the older woman. Just then, Delta weaved towards her and gripped a nearby chair to steady herself. Her eyes narrowed at Becky in judgment. 

“You are like all the others, waiting around for your payday. Out for all you can get. Bout as useful as gum on a boot heel. Humph.”

“Oh brother, here we go!” Lisa jumped up and walked past Delta. “C’mon, Becky Butt, let’s go get some chocolate cake.”

Becky smiled even wider at Delta as she followed Lisa, and watched the older woman scan the pool area, before tottering back to the house behind them.

“Chocolate cake? That doesn’t sound like a good lunch.”

“Oh, it’s the best lunch, don’t worry, I told Nancy before she left this morning, so it’s all ready.”

“They - they  let you have that for lunch”

“Let me?” Lisa grinned a devious grin and her eyes sparkled. “I’m the boss round here when Daddy’s asleep. If they ever give me any guff, I just lay down tha law an let ‘em know how it is, jack.”

“Oh? And how is it?”

“Get with the program or git!” Lisa held the door to the kitchen open for Becky, and grabbed the milk out of the fridge.

Sure enough, there in the middle of the counter was a tall, chocolate cake adorned with a circle of pink frosting rosettes. Lisa poured two tall glasses of milk  and carefully set out china plates with all the hospitality of a true, Southern hostess.

“Don’t worry, Becky, it’s vegetarian!” Lisa announced, grabbing the biggest knife Becky had ever seen, almost the length of the short, seven year old’s arm, as she proceeded to carve two large, unwieldy pieces from the beautiful dessert.

*********************************************************************

Becky was certain that her chocolate cake was about to make an encore appearance as the golf cart whipped around the bend. Grabbing the top of the seat, she looked over at Lisa as the little girl pushed her foot harder on the pedal and yelped with glee while she steered them down the grass behind the carport.

“I didn’t realize golf carts could go this fast.” Becky gripped her seat tighter, her knees jostling up and down against the metal bar at the front.

“Oh yeah, these are top o’ the line, Becky. Watch, I can get it to go even fast—” Becky put her hand up in protest.

“Nope, not necessary, this - this is great. Very refreshing in the heat.”

Lisa pushed her feet down a little further and Becky held on for dear life as the air whipped through her dark curls and reminded her very much that she was alive and wanted to keep it that way.

“Ok, so this is the stable,” Lisa pointed to a large white building coming up on their left side. “It’s called House of the Rising Sun, and most people think it's after a song, but actually, it's named after Daddy’s horse, Rising Sun. Though I always say he should be named Setting Sun, on account of the fact that the sun is usually setting before Papa gets up and goes riding.” Lisa slapped her thigh, as if making a rimshot on a drum set, and Becky realized this was her cue to laugh, so she let out a chuckle and rubbed Lisa’s hair.

“Yeah, that is a much better name. Or Sleeping Bear, hmmm?” Lisa giggled. 

“Or Grumpy Sleepy Bear.”

“That one sounds perfect, what do you think? We have time to paint a new sign?”

Lisa laughed as she drove them on, showing Becky the trailer where her daddy’s nurse, Tish lived, and the other where Billy, Jo and their kids lived, and they wound their way around the back of the paddock.

“That’s where Daddy likes to race his horses with the guys.”

“For special occasions? Or just for fun?”

“Oh, he does it to show off for the fans.” 

Becky snorted down a laugh and and attempted to catch her hair and pulled it back up as it escaped into the wind. 

“Um, ha - how do you know he does it for the fans? He tell you that?”

“No, my mama told me; he likes to race the horses round for no good reason, just to show off for the fans cuz he’s a big show off and he’ll never really be a true questrion.”

“Well, I don’t know, I mean your mom may not know —”

“Oh, she does, she knows everything. Daddy’s always saying my mama’s the biggest know-it-all you’ll ever meet. And hippo cat. Why would he call a woman a hippo and a cat?”

“Hmm.” Becky grabbed the side rail as the golf cart swerved back around towards the mansion, trying not to laugh at Lisa’s casual description of her parents. “I bet he meant something else and said it wrong, cuz you’re right, doesn’t make any sense.”

Lisa seemed to agree, nodding her head. And on to the next point of interest, her proud, confident tour guide voice explained that the house butted up to fence over there used to be her granddaddy’s. 

They drove past the throng of fans at the front gate near the bottom of the hill they were coming up and Lisa asked Becky if she needed any money or a new camera. Becky wasn’t sure exactly how this related to the crowd, but she had some suspicions as she looked over her shoulder at the people mulling aroun down at the gate. So, instead, she rubbed the sweat off her forehead and complained about the heat. 

Parking the golf cart back at the side of the house, Lisa led the way back inside, suggesting they cool down in the pool. Becky didn’t have a bathing suit, but jumped in wearing her tee shirt over underwear, letting her feet push off the rough, concrete bottom of the pool. She felt an almost instant sense of relief and rejuvenation as she sprung up weightlessly through the cool water and floated to the top, rubbing the chlorine out of her eyes. This was, of course, a futile exercise, as more chlorine water was in her face almost immediately, followed by the sounds of Lisa laughing from where she was splashing Becky a few feet away.

“Oh, you are gonna get it!”

Lisa’s screams ricocheted through the patio as Becky swam over, grabbed her and threw her playfully back into the water.

They raced each other like this for a bit, and then played catch in the water. Lisa particularly liked trying to aim directly in front of Becky, and shrieked with delight when Becky let the ball hit the water and then dramatically flustered about in the wake of the splash, uttering out a loud, affected:

“Now heyyyyy! That’s not fair!”

After a while, Mary brought them out some lemonade, and ham and cheese sandwiches, and they dangled their feet in the side of the pool, eating. Becky pulled the ham out of her sandwich, and Lisa opened her mouth, motioning for Becky to drop the cold cut in, chuckling.

“Hmmm, we make a good pair, huh?” 

Lisa nodded, speaking with a full mouth:

“Mmmm choww nuhff.” She swallowed, and took a sip of lemonade. “How’d you get to be such a good swimmer? You don’ all kinds of fancy moves out there, I never seen anyone swim sideways like that or stay underwater so long.”

“I was on my high school swim team. Then I used to lead canoe trips down the Cahaba, that’s the big river where I’m from, over in Birmingham.” She ruffled Lisa’s hair. “And I was a camp counselor for a while in Mississippi, we spent most of our summer in the pool. I reckon I was a fish in my past life, that’s what Helga used to say.

“Your nanny?”

“MMhmm. You have a good memory, kid, I can tell. You’re whip smart.”

Lisa giggled and splashed Becky with her foot. Water was violently flying up in the air as they commenced in an epic foot splash fight when a loud, deep ‘Ahem’ made their feet still. Lisa’s lips were pursed, emitting a nervous laugh and Becky met her eyes with frightened giddy trepidation as they turned in unison to see the tall, broad silhouette of Elvis behind them. Becky coughed nervously.

His thumbs hung down from the belt at his white trousers and he tilted his sunglasses down to look over them, adjusting his stance.

“MMMM what's - a -a - ahappenin’ ova round these parts, mhmmm?” Elvis tried unsuccessfully to keep his lip from quirking into a smile as his voice boomed out comically deep.

Lisa giggled, and pointed. “Becky started it!”

Gaping, Becky pushed her into the pool with a whispered, “Thanks a lot, Lisa Marie Benedict Arnold Presley!” Then jumped up to say hi to Elvis.

His face beamed with a grin but then, as she got closer, his lip tightened and his chin tilted out as he took in her swimsuit.

“Becky, what the hell are ya wearin’, girl?”

Becky pulled her shirt down, and Elvis went to grab her hands to stop her, as it just made her nipples more pronounced through the thin, wet fabric.

“Elvis, I don’t have a bathing suit, I didn’t think it was that big of a differe—”

“Honey, I can see your hair through your panties,” he whispered gruffly, wrapping Becky in the thick, white, suede jacket he’d been wearing. As part of his outfit. Outside. In June. In Memphis. Becky rolled her shoulders, trying to shirk it off, looking into his eyes imploringly.

“Elvis, I’m all wet, it will ruin this suede and get it all dirty. It’s so humid, too, I just th—”

“Becky, don’t worry about the jacket.” He pulled her in, unable to resist flicking her over her nipple imself as he scolded her to cover up. “Anyone could see you out here.”

“Baby, no one is out here.”

“But they could be, boy, they could be.. ‘Sides, think now what if a band of drugged-out commie burglars jumped the back fence, and I, I had to send you running to safety at that motel across the street? You don’t wanna be waiting for me and the boys and the police in public like this.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Elvis, that’s ridiculous - what is the likelihood tha—”

“Now, c’mon on, you never know, it’s getting rougher every day out there. These are the things ya gotta consider.”

Becky was about to argue with him further, that he was being paranoid, and where did he even come up with this stuff, commie drug dealer burglars? She thought of Elvis doing some of the karate moves he had taught her as a band of crazy-eyed youths scaled the back wall, and almost giggled. However, she was suddenly distracted by the fingers tracing over her hips, underneath the suede jacket, and she shivered as she felt goosebumps rise up on the back of her neck, still chilled from the water. Elvis leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes with a low gasp, feeling his belly press into hers.

“Good thing you got me around to think of every angle.” Elvis clicked his tongue and point to his head. ”Go on upstairs and get cleaned up, wanna give you a tour of Graceland.” He patted Becky on the butt as he turned her to the house.

Shuffling forward in the comfort of her new mobile suede sauna, Becky heard Lisa pull out of the water and ask her dad if they could have a bonfire tonight with hot dogs and baked potatoes and corn and s’mores and coconut cake and ice cream.

“Course, baby, jus let Mary and Charlie know how you want it.” 

Becky opened the door at the side of the house, she looked back to see Elvis kneeling and smiling as he wrapped Lisa in a towel. 

“You’re the boss, booger, I jus’ work here.”

Becky could feel the brightness radiating from Lisa’s broad smile as she went inside, and she shook her head as she mused to herself how sweet they were together. The way Elvis spoiled his daughter was charming when Becky pushed aside her own parenting philosophy, which she had always considered to be overly permissive until spending this last week at Graceland. 

She frowned at the prospect of having to parent with someone like him, and felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Priscilla, a woman whom Becky had always regarded as a bit of a cold Yankee. As if you could ever know what someone is like from reading gossip magazines, silly girl. 

Getting dressed, Becky chided herself for not telling Elvis about her earlier tour of the estate. It was just that he had looked so intent as he told her what they were doing, and the sound of his voice gently commanding her made her agree with whatever he said, take whatever he offered, do whatever he wanted to do. 

Yeah, a long term relationship with this man is trouble. Becky reflected on how relieved she had been when Lisa didn’t wake up and come get her until 10:30 that morning, instead of 8 a.m., like she had the first day, and felt a bit disgusted with herself. Ugh, Elvis’  lifestyle is warping your judgment. Sleep all day, play all night, and now I have to go pretend that I haven’t already seen the grounds of Graceland.

*********************************************************************

The dirt shifted under Becky’s Keds as she walked beside Elvis towards the stables, holding his hand as he squeezed it tightly and turned to look at her, eyes soft and bright as he spoke. Becky summoned a look of awe as if seeing the building for the first time.

“Right, now this is the House of the Rising Sun, on account of my horse, Rising Sun. Though I reckon I shoulda named him Setting Sun, because, ya know, that’s usually when I’m getting up.” Elvis looked at Becky expectantly, and she forced a giggle, leaning into him as they walked into the building.

The sound of horses’ snorting and whinnying greeted them, and Becky followed Elvis as he grabbed a handful of sugar cubes from the front counter and leaned against the white gate of the first stall, waggling his eyebrows at Becky as she cautiously stepped forward. He took her hand, unrolling her fingers and putting a piece of sugar in the middle, then clicking his tongue as the large palomino nuzzled into him, nickering and searching for treats.

“Now, go on, he won’t bite ya - much.” Elvis smirked, watching as Becky rolled her lips in and put out her hand, shrieking at the tickle of the horse’s chin hairs on her hand.

“Is this one yours?”

“MMhmmm, this is Rising Sun,” Elvis told her, turning to ruffle the blonde tuft of hair between the golden horse’s ears.

Becky cautiously stroked the white blaze down the middle of his face, stopping to rub his muzzle as he sniffed her hand for more sugar. She looked into Rising Sun’s large brown eyes, wondering how such a majestic creature could be tamed, and how quickly he would trample over her for more sugar.

“He’s beautiful. And terrifying.” She said, then looked up at Elvis. “Just like you, I suppose.”

Elvis’ fingers caressed over Becky’s dress, stopping at the small of her back to rub into her tenderly. 

“Oh now, don’t tell me ya afraid of me, now honey. Or these horsies, are ya Becky Butt?” He moved behind her, his hand trailing slowly over her arm, down from her shoulder, until it was over the back of her palm. He slowly guided her palm up to smooth over the side of Rising Sun’s face and cheek, leaning into whisper into her neck. “See, now, now, see? He’s a good boy, gentle and well trained as can be. Ain’t got nothin ta fear from hims.” 

Elvis kisses warmed her skin, and Becky shuddered as his lips crushed into her. Moaning, she dropped her hand and turned into him, biting her lip in anticipation as Elvis rolled back on his feet and then forward, pressing her into the white pole that separated the stalls. Rising Sun grunted at them and blew his nose, and Becky squealed at the feeling of his large, gummy mouth chewing at her hair. Elvis' mouth quirked into a smile, but his hand rubbed her side more intently, and a fierce, starved look animated his eyes.  

“Get now, silly horse, that ain’t hay.” He gently pushed Rising Sun away, and pulled Becky into him, gripping her tightly.

A tingle burned in Becky’s belly and she breathed out in hushed desire.

“Huh. How - how does my hair look?”

“Looks a a a, a whole lot better than it's gonna once I’m through wit ya.” Elvis said softly, through a high breathy giggle. Then he looked down, bashfully, his hand rubbing Becky’s waist up and down then pinching her on both sides. Becky giggled, pulling herself into his frame, her hand working up over his chest as she kissed his jaw. 

“Why, Elvis Presley, I declare, are you - are you trying to seduce me? In the barn?”

He shook his head, a goofy expression pushed his lips into a pout.

“Depends.”

Becky arched her eyebrow, her fingers toyed with the high blue collar of Elvis’ shirt. “Mmmmmm? Depends on what?”

Elvis withdrew, blushing, his jaw tightening, suddenly changing his mind from whatever he had been thinking about doing,  “Neva mind, baby. Here, let me introduce ya to the other horses.”

Becky followed him, brushing her hand over the top of his belt and sweeping along his back. 

“Ok darlin’, you’re the boss.” Pushing her hand around him, Becky leaned into Elvis, and he drew her tighter into his side, looking ahead to give a large, black horse a sugar cube.

“This here, now, this boy is special, this is Ebony’s Double, come from a real champion stud, Ebony Masterpiece.”

Becky put her hand up to the horse’s neck, feeling his muscles ripple under his silky black coat as she rolled her hand over him. Breathing in, her eyes locked with Elvis as she caught him looking down at her, and she thought about reaching up on her tiptoes to try and kiss him, but instead kissed his shoulder. It was easier, and she relished the way he squeezed her into him in response. His bottom lip dropped down with his chin, and his voice came out in a raspy croak.

“Hey there, lil’ girl.”

Becky nuzzled in, and shifted the rubber soles of her shoes to pivot and bring her closer into Elvis' chest.

“Hey,” she whispered into his armpit.

Elvis brought her chin up and leaned down, his hand moving to cradle her neck as she curled her fingers into his shirt. Gentle kisses became more fervent as his hands crept lower until they cupped her bottom and Elvis was holding Becky up. Notched above his tummy, Becky’s knees bumped up awkwardly against his elbows, and Elvis chuckled as he carried her towards the back of the barn, almost dropping her with a mild stumble. That would have been the end of the white suede suit. But he quickly recovered, grunting as he jostled Becky up and smiling at the sound of her breathy chuckles as she held onto his shoulders while they staggered to the back of the barn. Becky could hear the sound of horse’s hooves, grunts and neighs, but they were peripheral to the sound of the heartbeat pulsing through her ears.

Becky felt the edge of the workbench where Elvis placed her atop. They were at the back of the stables, next to a saddle presumably left for repair. Beckys legs hitched on either side of Elvis' body, and she dragged her thumb over his cheek, moaning out as his lips found that spot on her neck once more and his hands moved under her skirt, slowly, carefully, tugging on her underwear.

“Hey,” she murmured. Elvis cheeks reddened above a smirk as his dark blue eyes looked down at the ground.

“Hey,” he breathed out in a deep voice.

Becky fell back on the table, resting on her wrists.

“Hey.” she waggled her eyebrows and dangled her legs, then tightened them at his side.

He shook his head, unbuttoning his trousers and moving over her, his lips feathering above her as he whispered: “Heyyyyyyy.”

Becky gasped as she felt him thrust slowly upwards into her, moaning out into his mouth. 

“Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

She wrapped her legs around him, rocking her hips to meet him in the slow, gentle cadence of their love making. His eyes narrowed on hers as his movements became more deliberate, and his thumb found the slick over her clitoris, swirling in time to their needy rolls back and forth over the workbench. Heat coiled in her belly, and Becky leaned back as a guttural cry escaped her mouth.“Heeyyyyyy fucking ohmygod heyyyyyyYYYYYY GODDAMMMIT” as her climax overtook her.  

Elvis leaned forward, peppering kisses over her collarbone and burying his head in her bosom where he continued to slow move in and out of her until he came with a vehement grunt and remained there, head in her chest, panting through the final thrusts before stilling completely. 

Becky relished the weight of his body pressing down on her, insistent, immediate, she wanted it to crush her forever. His shaggy swath of black hair moved as Elvis’ chin protruded forward, and she met his blue eyes, looking up at her from his smug, boyish expression. She melted in the radiance of his smile. “Hey.” Elvis blushed, again, then grunted as he pulled himself up and grinned at Becky’s playfully shove.

“Hey is for horses, Presley,” she gasped, and he laughed as he zipped up, bending down to restore her panties to their rightful place.

She wondered if she had made the wrong first impression on the horses, as they ambled out of the stable and back toward the house.

“Hmmm, so that was the tour huh?”

“I think that’s all the tour I can manage right now, lil girl.”

“OK, well, Lisa already showed me the smokehouse, and I’m definitely not having sex in there.”

“Hmmm, well, figured you should know by now, telling me something isn’t gonna happen just about guarantees I havta try.” He slapped her bottom  and she shoved him away, only to have his arm instantly around her, drawing her into the warmth of his body as he kissed her head.

“Just so you know, Becky, I did not intend to get busy back there.”

Becky nestled into his shoulder as they walked. She could still hear the sounds of twenty horses behind them if she focused, joined by the sound of crickets and cars on the far off roads buzzing into the twilight of early evening. Above it all, she could feel the grain of Elvis' voice as it rumbling into her ear, heating the side of her neck with each word.

“I, I  - I just, well, suddenly couldn’t help myself. Don’t feel that way very often, honey, I think - ” He stopped talking abruptly and turned Becky in to face him.

“Honey, now stop walking already, I’m tryin’ to tell ya something.”

As he looked at her, he noticed that her hair really had come half out of the up twist she had styled it in that evening, and he paused to take out her hair pins, freeing her curls and arranging them over her shoulders.

“There, better.” He nodded with satisfaction. “What was I sayin’? Oh yeah. OK. Here it is. I think I’m starting to really fall for ya, baby. I think, well, I think you should move up here. Can’t bear ta think about taking you back to Jackson next week.”

“This week,” Becky muttered, crossing her arms. “Sunday.”

Suddenly the buzzing, post-coital glow disintegrated and she stood still trying to process what he had said.

He took her shoulders in his hands. “Think about it. Didn’t you say you have a sister here in Memphis?”

Becky nodded, her mind still swimming, wondering if there was any way in hell she could, would, should pursue this. Looking up into Elvis’ eyes was like diving into a sea of endless optimism where everything was possible.

“Hey, I got a business meeting I gotta handle tomorrow night, maybe you could go visit your sister? I was thinking you probably would want to while you're up here anyway. And you can think things over. How it would be, if I got you a place up here, come live with your lil girl in Memphis?”

Becky stood there, nodding again, looking back down at the house. Elvis started to walk.

“Don’t just stand there woman, get in here. The most handsome man in the world just asked if you’d be his baby, least you can do is give him some sugar and say thank you.”

Becky leaned back into Elvis' open arm and kissed his chest. “Hmmm, just took me by surprise is all. I, um, I need to think about it, that’s a big deal, Elvis, I , well, I feel strongly about you too.”

She tickled his side as they walked, and he jerked back with a, *Hey, now.*

“You’re right, though, I should try and see my sister. Tomorrow night, I guess.”

*********************************************************************

6:15 p.m. Friday, June 20th 1975

Still at Graceland, for now…

It was one of the new dresses Elvis had bought her that week, a purple, jersey halter dress, that Becky pulled over her head, before asking Lisa to help clasp the simple, diamond drop necklace around the back of her neck. Lisa jumped back, and put out her wrists for a spray of perfume as Becky doused herself and twirled around.

“How do I look?” Lisa put her hand to her chin, thinking carefully. 

“I think you need more eye make-up.”

“Ha, maybe, but trust me, my sister is the opposite of glamorous. She’s a judge. And I’m crashing a dinner party, so I think modest, simple, less-is-more sort of look is what I want.”

“Well,” Lisa sighed, ”you definitely nailed the less part. You’re hardly wearing any diamonds. Sure you don’t wanna borrow some of mine?”

Becky fidgeted with the ring she was wearing, the gift Elvis had given her that first night at Graceland. It was almost too large and gaudy for her style, let alone her sister Deborah’s taste. But it had come to be a comforting talisman, something she felt and twisted when she felt nervous or out of her element here with Elvis, doing whatever she thought she was doing. *Acting like an immature teenager who just discovered what sex is*, she thought to herself. 

Becky also sensed Elvis would be hurt if he saw her without the ring, because he’d mentioned how nice it looked on her several times, usually taking her hand and kissing the ring there before turning her palm and kissing the center of her hand. And pulling her in for a kiss. *Ughhh, these kisses*. Even the way his dry lips bumped over hers at first touch caused a burning electricity to electrify her face and she became instantly incapable of reason. 

Becky sighed, she had this impending sense of doom, her inner Cassandra, as Ida would say, always on high alert to call out trouble at the slightest provocation. Just trust him. This is fun. This feels right. Everything is ok. Wear the damn ring to Debbie’s dinner party.

Becky’s dress swished around her legs as she carefully walked down the staircase, trying not to trip in the orange platform heels Elvis had picked out at the boutique during a late night shopping spree on Wednesday. As she descended, she saw him whispering with Charlie, then the two men heard her and turned around, smiling in an eerie unison. Elvis was somewhat dressed up for his business meeting, in a dark red suit with a light blue dress shirt with a high, starched collar framing his face.

“There she is, Charlie. There’s the most beautiful gal in the world. And the smartest. And the funniest.”

Becky teetered on her platforms as she put her foot down another step.

“And the most graceful woman in the world.” He let out a low guffaw with out, and Becky narrowed her eyes at him

“Oh, keep laughing, Elvis Aaron Presley, I’mma get you for that. Buying me mile-high shoes an then laughing at how I walk in theses unnatural torture devices!”

Becky ran down the rest of the stairs and leapt onto his waist, ruffling his hair as Elvis chuckled.

“God, crazy woman, tryin’ ta kill me?” Becky kissed his forehead as he jostled her up and down, then placing her safely on the ground.

“Mhmmm. Just wanted to give you a kiss for good luck with your business dinner.”

Elvis kissed her back on the cheek as he ushered her and Charlie out of the door with a swat to the butt and a “See ya later, sweetheart.”

Charlie’s white Pontiac was waiting in front for them and they walked around, Charlie leading to open her door. Just as Becky was about to duck into the passenger seat, she saw the long, black snout of Elvis’ Stutz Blackhawk rolling up the driveway, Jerry at the steering wheel. Next to him sat the thin, blonde frame of Linda Thompson outlined against the dark, red leather interior. Jerry was a statue, stoic and serious as he pulled up and Linda burst out of the car to stride over.

“Charlie Hodge, you handsome man, where you runnin’ off to this evening? And who’s your friend?”

Charlie let out a shrill, high-pitched laugh, wondering to himself how Jerry had managed to arrive twenty minutes earlier than he had been told. Becky smiled awkwardly as she watched Linda give Charlie an air kiss on each side of his face, and then turned to Becky and her tight, wide forced cheerful smile.

Charlie stammered quickly, “Ugh, Linda, this is my cousin Becky, from Birmingham, come up to visit while her kid is at summer camp. I, ugh, well I -”

“He promised me I’d get to meet Elvis while I was here,” Becky gushed, summoning all of her energy to force her tongue to sound excited. She watched Jerry get out of the car and walk to join them. His lips were pursed, and his shoulders were stiff.

“Oh, well, it just dills my pickle to meet Charlie’s family, I feel like we’re practically family ourselves, seein’ how much time I spend with this good ole boy.”

Becky tried very hard not to tense up as Linda threw her arms around her to squeeze her tight. Linda wore a red, satin evening gown with cutouts along the side that emphasized her the curves of her sveltetorso and the wide hips below. Becky felt as though her tall, awkward fleshy figure and bust overwhelmed Linda’s body completely.

“Gosh, I just love that dress,” Linda exclaimed, adjusting the layers of Becky’s hair off her shoulder. “Though I don’t know if I could pull that color off, mhmmm, don’t know if that would be my choice, but it's so you, isn’t it?”

Becky smiled. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“So, Charlie, the old boy been behaving?” Linda winked at Becky, then whispered conspiratorially. “You know, Elvis is a good, Christian man, s’just that the devil is mighty powerful, hmmm, know what I mean?”

“MMMhmmmm.”

Becky nodded. It was like she was back in high school and one of the popular girls had waltzed up to her desk at the school newspaper, indirectly ordering her to do a story about the committee decorating the homecoming game bleachers. Ughhh.  Becky steeled herself, falling back on the niceties that she was well versed in.

“I can’t even imagine! Gosh, it’s so exciting to meet you, I’ve seen your pictures in the paper and, of course, Charlie has told us about you. But you are just more precious in person, you really are.”

Linda gave Becky another hug. “Well bless your heart, Becky. Aren’t *you* the sweetest.”

Jerry coughed. “Hm, yeah, we better get going.”

Linda shrugged her shoulders. “Ugh, I know, we got this Police Charity Dinner to go to, I flew in from LA just for this. I guess the Lord saw fit for me to make it. And meet you! I hope I get to see you again while you are visiting, are you staying here? With Charlie?”

“Oh God no.”—“No she aint!”

Charlie and Becky both answered together. Becky smiled big again, hugging Linda one more time. From the big, wide-eyed puppy dog look on her face, Becky felt she seemed to expect it. “No, no, I’m staying with my sis - sorority sister from college, who lives here, we’re actually just heading there now, for dinner. In fact, we better scoot, eh cuz?” Becky looked at Charlie, and sat into the car.

Charlie closed the door, a big  smile at Linda as Jerry led her up the steps into the house, and Linda waved goodbye. “I hope y’all have a the best night, see you again real soon!”

A tense feeling pushed up from Becky’s tummy and seized her shoulders in a tight anxious grip. It was one thing to know you were spending the week with a man who was seeing several women at once. It was another thing to come face to face with one and have to lie about who you were and what you were doing. Becky felt dirty, dirty and sick. She didn’t know how she could possibly face her perfect fucking sister, Deborah, and Debbie’s husband Steve, another lawyer, and the various lawyer professional type guests she expected to be at this dinner party. Charlie patted her thigh, seeming to intuit her thoughts, at least in part.

“Ya know, he’s not a bad guy, the boss man. He carries a heavy burden. And Linda’s moved out to LA to try and break into the movie biz. She had him buy her a home here in Memphis. It’s like they both know it’s over but neither one can bear to pull the trigger. And she knew how it was to date someone like him.”

Becky nodded, telling herself not to cry, and leaned against the window, hitting her head on the cool glass a few times as she swore under her breath at how stupid she was to be here. She muttered to herself in yiddish: 

“Ugh, whenever you have choices, oy vey, my sheyna maidel, boy oh boy do you somehow always manage to pick the worst. Your picker is broken, that’s what it is. When you go home, you are turning your love life over to Ida and her yenta brigade. There is a reason they used matchmakers in the old country. People are incapable of making good choices in men when left to their own devices. Stupid, foolish, idiot girl!” She hit her head on the window one last time, and then realized they had pulled up in front of Debbie’s house.

Charlie rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll be out here waiting when you’re ready. I - he - I - he’s gonna be dropping Linda off at the other house. It was, it is, all part of the plan. You see, her brother’s in the police force here. It, ugh, it just made sense that she would be his date for this big charity ball fundraiser for the cops.”

Becky nodded, half in a daze, trying to mentally prepare for her sister, for the dinner party, and for Elvis later.

“Hmmm, yeah, no, totally makes sense, absolutely.” She breathed in, then looked over at Charlie’s apologetic face. “Wait, you’re just gonna wait here?”

“Yeah, the boss, he, well, he wanted me to look after you. On account of all the druggies running wild these days.” Becky nodded. 

“Right. The drugged out commie burglars, those are clearly the biggest threat to my livelihood right now. Not Elvis Presley and his selfish manipulative ways. Not his powerful girlfriend, or her cop brother. Not my family and their judgment. No, no no, it’s the invisible commie drug criminals supposedly lurking everywhere. Well, thank god you’re here Charlie, I feel so much safer.” 

She slammed the car door, knowing it was unfair to take it out on Charlie, but the look on his face when she bent to the window made her heart sink even further before she uttered one word of apology. Because his goofy, winsome smile told her she was not the first woman to yell at him like this. Not only did he seem to expect it, he had mentally braced himself for it. Becky’s face softened apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, for that. I’ll try not to be more than an hour.”

“S’ok, we’re family now, cuz.” 

Becky knew that Charlie’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but it made her stomach drop even more as she turned and braced herself for a night at the Hoffman - Blumfeld’s (very intentionally hyphenated modern family of the 1970s) Dinner Party.

*********************************************************************

To say the night was uncomfortable and embarrassing would have been generous. Everyone else at the dinner party was dressed in jeans, khakis or linen pants and some sort of comfortable blouse or semi-casual shirt, and Becky felt she stood out like a Vegas showgirl at a library full of nerds. Which was probably the best way to describe Debbie, her husband Steve and their social circle. She was grateful it had been Debbie who opened the front door, so she could walk Becky into the side room and they could make their flustered hellos alone. 

Debbie wore a pair of sensible khakis and a tasteful floral button up top tucked in. As predicted, Debbie wore no make-up. And all judgment, though she tried to repress and be loose and fun.

Six years older than Becky, Debbie had always been half friend/half-parent to her, and this was a characteristic she inhabited calling out “Rebecca, please come in!” when she greeted Becky at the door.

Thank god for wine, the Hoffman-Blumfeld intentionally hyphenated household had some very good bottles of wine on offer and, after sipping one glass gracefully, and the another quickly in the kitchen, Becky was able to exhale and confront the evening with a blundering fort of confidence. She decided to pretend the meeting with Linda never happened, and stumbled confidently through her description of her relationship. She was dating a man who worked in the music business, after meeting him with Danny at a radio event fundraiser for the tornado in Mississippi. Was it serious? Well, sort of, he had invited her to Memphis for the week to meet his daughter, and he was trying to persuade her to move there. But her very successful life managing Saul and Ida’s store, and all her f.’

riends, made her reluctant to leave Jackson.

“I’m just taking a day at a time.” Becky winked and sipped her wine, before taking another mouthful of salmon.

After dessert, Debbie cornered her in the kitchen and asked if they could talk somewhere. Putting up her finger while she poured another glass of wine, Becky nodded and followed Deb to a bedroom, where she sat on a tasteful quilt blanket and had a tasteful restrained conversation about the impossibility of letting her father see Ruth secretly the next time she was in Birmingham.

“She is his only grandchild, Becks.”

“Well, they should have thought about that possibility when they kicked me out. Three months pregnant. Pronounced me a shonda, and disowned me.”

“Do you really want to have Ruth grow up without her grandparents?”

“I didn’t make that decision, Debbie, they did. Maybe, maybe, maybe if Papa was willing to admit how wrong they were, and stand up to Mama, and if he had any backbone at all and publicly welcomed me home for everyone to see, for Ruth to experience a true family, maybe.”

Debbie responded with a knowing look. “Well, I told Papa I was gonna see you when he called earlier, and I promised to ask, but I don’t blame you. I wish Ruth was here now, it’s been too long. And this guy, hmmm? Sounds promising. He wants you to move here?” Becky gulped her wine down first, rubbing her sister's arm. 

“Yup, yes, mhmmm. Oh yeah, finally, right? Everything’s coming up Becky. I can’t wait for you to meet him, because I’ll definitely be back up here with Ruth after she finishes camp. Ah, yes, mmhmmm.” She downed the last sip of wine, smiling so enthusiastically she almost laughed at how absurd the charade was. “I feel like, ugh, finally, right? I’m finally getting that happiness I searched for, for so long. ”

*********************************************************************

“You are never going to find happiness.” Becky said to the fork of coconut cake as she brought it to her mouth, letting the sweet, sticky crunchy sugar do its work comforting her momentarily as she chewed it and swallowed it down with some chocolate milk. The door to the kitchen opened, and she jerked her head up to see little Lisa Marie poke her head around.

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, late night cake?” Becky answered.

“Have you been crying?” Lisa asked as she stepped closer, getting herself a plate and a piece of cake.

“No, honey, no, it’s just been a long day.”

“Is it cuz of my daddy?”

Becky shook her head, too vigorously perhaps. “Npoooo no nononoo. No. It’s just been a long day.”

“You’re a bad liar, Becky Butt,” Lisa said, taking a big bite of cake, and then rubbing Becky’s shoulder. It broke her heart to see Lisa’s genuine look of pity staring up at her as she tried to comfort Becky. “Why is he like this? Mommy says he ruins every relationship and he’ll never truly be happy.”

Becky laughed at Lisa’s matter-of-fact statement. “Oh, my dear, I think your mama is very wise, but who knows what the future will bring. I do know your daddy loves you, that’s a relationship that makes him happy. Trust me, my parents never openly showed me love the way I see him show you. He’s a good man. There are just some things I might do differently if I were him.”

Lisa looked up at her. “Like what?”

“Well, for starters, I’d carry around less guns, I guess, that's dangerous. And maybe wear less jewelry, probably out there blinding people with all those dazzling gems and diamonds all over his person.”

Lisa laughed out loud as she finished her cake, and let Becky walk her up the stairs where she tucked Lisa back into bed and then returned to the kitchen.

Becky was down on her knees, looking through the drawers under the phone when she heard the door behind her slam shut. Glancing up, she saw Elvis’ broad figure swagger slowly toward her in the dimness of the kitchen lit only by one of the lights under a cabinet. He sighed and stopped, hands bracing the front of his hips, spread out fully extending his fingers as they tapped a little ditty over the sides of his belly. 

With his jacket pushed back at the hips, he looked even wider and more intimidating than usual. His lips were pursed in a frown at the sight of Becky in the jeans, converse and Destin tee shirt she had been wearing when she left Jackson the previous Sunday.

“Huh, hey.”

Becky turned back to look up at him. “Oh, hey!”

He adjusted his stance, pivoting his feet and twitching his left knee, his thumbs tapping over his belt.

“Watcha doin’?”

“You don’t know where the yellow pages are, do you? I’ve been looking for a phone book for the last fifteen minutes.”

Elvis sucked in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses. “Why, uh, why ya looking for the phone book?”

“Well, maybe you can help me.”

Becky returned her attention to the kitchen drawers in front of her, trying not to flinch as she heard the thud of Elvis boots walk closer and stop directly behind her. She chose not to twist back around and look at him, afraid she might cry or be dramatic, so she decided to speak directly into the drawers as she continued to look through them.

“You see, I’m trying to find a number for a local cab company, so I can get to the Greyhound station.”

“Mhmmm. I noticed your bag in the foyer.”

“Oh yeah, that,” Becky sighed, shutting one drawer and then opening another. “Well, you see, it just dills my pickle to be all prepared and ready to go when I call up a car to come get me. Although I had rather hoped I would have been gone before you got back, I didn’t want to bother you. But, since you’re here, maybe you can make yourself useful and help find the phone book?”

Elvis bent and leaned over the island that jutted out of the counter at the front of the kitchen.

“Honey, I have absolutely no intention a helpin’ you find a phone book.”

Becky stopped and fell back against the cupboard next to the set of drawers, her legs stretching out over the dark, burgundy carpet that covered the kitchen.She banged her hand back and closed her eyes.

“Why? Why can’t you just give me the phonebook?”

Elvis walked over and stood above Becky, his hand reaching down. “Cuz I don’t want you ta leave, honey. Not like this. C’mon, let’s talk. If you still wanna go home, why, I’ll drive you back to Jackson myself, like I promised.”

Becky glared up at his hand. “No.”

“What, you just gonna stay there on the ground?”

“Mhmmm.” She crossed her legs and her arms and tilted back into the cabinet. “Yup, yessiree. This is my home now, til I get a cab, I reckon.”

Elvis meandered over slowly and groaned as he lowered himself next to her on the floor. He moved his hand out to touch hers, only to be rebuked by their swift retreat back under her breasts in a huff of crossed arms and limbs. He rolled his neck to meet her gaze against the wooden cabinet.

“Honey, you are actin’ like a child. This is all one big misunderstanding. Now, c’mon.”

Elvis put his hand over her thigh, but Becky swatted it away, so he grabbed the foot she had criss crossed over her knee, and rolled into her shoulder as he scooted closer, squeezing her foot.

“Becky, look, you know I have other friends —”

“Girl friends, yes, I know about them, but apparently they don’t know about me. Do you have any idea how horrible that felt? Lying, looking at your beautiful beauty queen girlfriend, pretending to be Charlie’s cousin?” She pressed her face against the cupboard and let the tears come pouring out. “Ugh, I am so stupid, I know this isn’t me. I am not cut out to be the other woman.”

“Sssshhh.” Elvis put his arm around Becky’s shoulder, massaging her as he drew her body into his, bringing her head to nuzzle in his chest, where she gave up and grasped his shirt, letting the sobs come out as she cried into him. “Sshhhh. S’ok, s’ok.”

“No, s’not ok, ugh, I’m a horrible person, a traitor to my sex.” Her fist bumped tepidly into Elvis’ chest. She looked up at his chuckles. “What, why are you laughing at me?”

“Baby, you are too pretty to cry. Now, come on. Linda is not my wife, she knows it, I know it, things haven’t been going well and our relationship has been sorta peeterin’ out. But I have to do things my own way, ok? Her brother is on the police force, it made sense, right now, for me to take her as my date. But I swear, nothing happened. I’m here with you. At my house. Would I have a mistress at my house, where I lived, if I was keeping her a secret?”

Becky wiped her eyes. “You think she knows about me? She knew when she met me?”

Elvis sucked in his breath. “Honey, I don’t know, and frankly, right now I don’t care who knows. I-I, I didn’t wanna get into it tonight. But Linda knows well enough how it is with me. Look, I want to be with you, here, now. So let’s be together, and let’s go to bed.”

He said this with finality, and stood up, groaning slightly and steadying himself against the sink,  and Becky followed, exhaling loudly as she pulled herself up on his outstretched hand and walked with him out of the kitchen, still sniffling and wiping her eyes into his silk dress shirt.

“Ok, but only because the floor was starting to feel uncomfortable. And I couldn’t find the phone book.”

Elvis smiled and Becky watched his cheeks twitch above the pout of his mouth, and she couldn’t help it, she led herself into his embrace.

“There now, lil girl, why you go get yourself all worked up like that?”

Becky looked down, blushing trying to just calm herself and feel good about making peace, or whatever it was she was doing. Giving in. No, you are having fun, she told herself. It’s silly to be upset over Linda, and was the use of fighting? This is a short, fun, little fling. Somehow his logic made sense at the same time that it made no sense at all. Becky’s head ached trying to sort it out, she decided that she was tired and exhausted and still a little tipsy, and needed to stop fighting and let herself fall forward into Elvis’ pliant, warm belly. He took a silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and wiped her eyes, then softly pressed his lips to Becky’s mouth.

 “Mmmm, baby, those are some salty lips.” 

Elvis lifted his hand, thumbing over her lower lip slowly, it made Becky gasp and she watched him respond with a smirk. He leaned in slowly, and Becky shivered when he breathed on her, watching with anticipation as he  licked his own lip and hesitated with a wider smirk before pressing his mouth into hers. More forcefully this time, his hands soothing up her sides. 

“S’alright now, s’alright, no more cryin, ok, lil girl? Too pretty ta cry like this. Goin’ on and making my favorite lips all salty. "

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