#even though it didn’t taste good and had to have someone else fix it for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jarofstyles · 8 months ago

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The Favor 3

hey... :) I know I've kept you waiting and I'm ready to hand her over to you. Here is the long awaited part 3!

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The Favor Masterlist

WC- 10k

Warnings-dom/sub dynamic, oral sex, sprinkle of degradation, soft Dom h, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, h's filthy mouth, cumplay, etc.

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Y/N still had shaky knees by the time she got home that night. They hadn’t gone much further than that, his lips giving her a reward of kisses on her lips and neck as he had her lounge in his lap. To get used to his touch, he had claimed. It didn’t matter to her considering she felt like she was a bit touch starved and he was happy to supply his fix.

Danny wasn’t a bad boyfriend. She didn’t want to paint him in a bad light- but he didn’t do all the things she had originally expected. He didn’t cuddle her as often as she’d liked and claimed he ‘slept hot’ so he didn’t hold her in his sleep when she slept over. A year into their relationship and she was thinking maybe he was just getting a bit too comfortable.

She was trying not to let it go to her head, how good it had felt to have Harry’s big hands on her body and little kisses pressed to her. How he had been gentle but dominant with her, reminding her to give her his eyes, his words, her lips. He’d kissed her like it was his job and made her head spin, but she figured he must have a lot of good practice on how to be a good kisser.

When the phone rang the next day and she saw it was Danny, part of her didn’t want to answer. She still felt off about the fact he was okay with someone else touching her so intimately and made her feel so bad about wanting things in the bedroom, but the thing that bothered her the most was just how much she liked Harry touching her. She didn’t know much more about him but he had planned on her coming over to see him this weekend. They were going to actually play a little bit and that excited her to no end. There was no idea on what it was exactly they were going to do, but she knew she would do it for him.

“Hi.” She said when she finally picked up on one of the last few rings. “Sorry, I’m making food.” It wasn’t a lie. The water was on for pasta.

“It’s okay. I was just calling to ask how it went.” He said easily. It stung a bit, honestly. She clenched her jaw, unsure how he could be okay with her sleeping with someone else. Did he not know how intimate it was? How safe she had to feel? Clearly not, or she doubted he would let her do this.

“Went good. He’s really nice and patient.” She mumbled.

“Oh, good. He’s a good guy, even if his tastes are questionable.”

The girl felt herself stiffen. What the fuck? That wasn’t nice to say. Not about Harry and not about her. She was going to him for her ‘questionable’ tastes, and he never made her feel bad about it.

“Yeah, well. I’m seeing him this weekend. We’re taking the learning thing slow.” Her fingers picked at the hole in her jeans. “I just wanted to let you know. I’m not really… Comfortable sleeping with two people at once. So I think we need to hold off on our sex together while I do this.” It made her feel icky. Not that there was anything wrong with it, per say. But she didn’t like the idea of him touching her right after Harry.

“Oh.” He paused. “Okay. That’s fine. Are you still coming out to the bar this weekend though? Or are you and Harry going to be in his sex dungeon.” Now she was irked. Part of her had hoped for maybe a tiny smidge of jealousy. Maybe showing that he cared that she would be spending a lot of time with another man- but nothing. He breezed right past it. He also talked about Harry in a way she didn’t like the more it happened. Reducing him as solely a man who was a sexual deviant wasn’t nice, or true. He had a dog, he did woodworking, he had a nice house and obviously a good job. He liked music, had vintage band posters in immaculate condition hung up in his hallway. It wasn’t just about who or what he did in the bedroom.

“Don’t know. I’ll ask Harry.” She mumbled. Since she seemed to be his fucking girl for the time being. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, yeah?”

There was barely any time to hang up before she sniffled, eyes closing as she tried to fight the tears. She’s really hoped that maybe she would get an inkling of care or jealousy out of him. He must not have a clue about any of the things they were going to do, the trust it involved, the intimacy. Harry was teaching her slowly and he was gentle and kind while also keeping the dominant persona up. It made her melt.

So instead of calling her boyfriend back and crying to him, she took her phone out to text Harry.

Y/N: hiiiiii.

H: Hello.

Y/N: I had a question if that’s okay?

H: I have an answer, hopefully. Shoot.

Y/N: what exactly did you have in mind for this weekend?

Y/N: am I staying multiple days?

Y/N: trying to figure out the packing situation. :-)

Harry smiled down at his phone in his office. He was doing some emails but had abandoned them when he saw her name flash on his screen. He was thankful to hear from her, even more so that she was thinking about this weekend. She wasn’t having second thoughts.

H: Yes, multiple days. I was thinking you sleep at mine Friday and Saturday, spend some of the Sunday with me.

H: it’s up to you ultimately. In this situation, you’re in charge with how much or how little time you want to spend with me. It isn’t all going to be whips and chains, perhaps some food breaks in between.

Y/N: he’s got jokes?

H: a few. Don’t tell anyone. I can’t lose my mysterious persona.

Y/N: my lips are sealed.

Y/N: I told Danny I wasn’t going to have sex with him while I’m doing stuff with you.

Y/N: we didn’t do it a lot anyways but it feels wrong to do that when we’re doing the things we do. Is that okay?

Was it okay? Harry could feel the smirk on his face, painted there without his permission. It shouldn’t feel so good that she cut him off in order to spend time with him, but it did. He was still astounded that he was willingly letting this happen but now that he’d had a taste of Y/N, he wanted to continue. He’d teach her everything there was to know.

H: It’s perfectly fine. Anything that makes you comfortable, remember?

H: it’s probably best, anyways. You went for your testing, yes?

Y/N: yes sir 🫡 bright and early. Should have the results by Friday!!!

H: perfect. I’ve got mine done up too. You’re still on birth control too?

Y/N: mhm, I’ve got an IUD.

H: ouch. I heard those hurt to put in. But thank you for telling me.

Y/N: it sure isn’t fun. We should probably be put to sleep but they don’t care lol

H: I know. It’s a shame. I’m sorry that it hurt.

Y/N: it’s okay :-) no oopsie baby for me!!!

Y/N: are you planning to… you know… inside me?

That was something she hadn’t thought about, but the thought was making her hot now. She’d never not used a condom before, always heard it was messy to not, but something about it felt… erotic. Like being marked and claimed. Something that he could play into when they were doing a scene.

H: if you’d be comfortable with it, I’d love to. But it’s up to you. It’s your body and I respect what you want with it.

Yep. He had decided that he wanted to do that with her. Already he was breaking his normal limits but the idea had a strong hold on him. Especially knowing now that she wasn’t going to be sleeping with anyone else while they were together, it made him feel even more inclined to bend the rules he usually made for her. It was just… he wanted to give her everything. Let her experience the true intimacy of it. Plus he couldn’t deny the idea made him hard as stone.

H: though… overshare? I am partial to the idea of watching your cunt drip with my cum.

Y/N: I hope you know I’m blushing.

She was more than blushing. She was starting to get wet from the mere mention of it. Harry seemed to like to be blunt that way and there was something so hot about it, he had no fear of saying what he wanted. No matter how crass it may be.

Y/N: I think I’d like that, though. If everthing is good with my results- which they should be fine- I’m okay with that. I’ve never done it.

Harry felt himself twitch in his pants behind his desk. A groan audibly left his mouth as he placed his phone down for a moment, running his hand over his face. He shouldn’t like the knowledge he would be the first one bare inside of her. He would be the first one to cum in her. Fuck, he hated how much he loved the idea of it. This wasn’t his girl, wasn’t his to keep, but he was playing pretend like she was.

H: good to know, pet. I’m excited to explore with you.

H: you’re a lot of fun, you know that?

Y/N: I didn’t know that :-) thank you for telling me. I’m really looking forward to seeing you this weekend.

H: the feeling is mutual, darling. Very much so.

—-

Y/N felt the familiar tingle of nerves when she pulled into his house. He’d given her the gate code this time, which she punched in and drove herself through as the house took away her breath again. What she wouldn’t do to live in a house like this. It was a Pinterest dream.

Parking her car to the side, she grabbed her duffle bag and rounded the side to find Harry waiting at his garage door once again.

God, he was handsome.

He wore an open baby pink button up with a white tank top underneath and black trousers sitting higher up on his waist. His smile was soft as he watched her approach, stubble a bit more grown out than she remembered and his hair tousled in a sexy off hour type of vibe. To put it lightly, he looked like a model off duty and she felt a bit intimidated. This man found her attractive? She wasn’t insecure that way, but it was admittedly a stroke to her ego.

“Hi, Darling.” He hummed, reaching out to take her bag from her. “Drive alright?” His eyes scanned over her in appreciation. A dress, one that flirted over her thighs. A soft pink with a subtle floral pattern, cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, flat shoes and a little pearl necklace. “You look adorable.” She really did. The picture of flirty innocence, making him heat slightly when he realized she wore this for him. She had to of, considering he was the person she planned on spending the day with.

“You think?” The girl beamed, looking down at her outfit. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what to wear or what the plans were. I wanted to look… presentable.” She could feel her cheeks warming from how intently he looked at her. It was unlike what she was used to, like he was drinking in the details. If he looked at her like this now, how would she feel when she was completely bare? “The uh, the drive was alright. Thanks for asking.” She looked at her bag on his shoulder. “You didn’t have to take the bag, I can carry it!”

“Cute. No, my mother raised me right. Shouldn’t be carrying a thing, especially when you’re coming to stay with me.” He extended a hand. “C’mon, so you don’t catch a chill. Buttons is waiting for you.” The way her face lit up at the mention of his dog made something in his insides soften, her delicate hand slipping into his own and trusting him to lead. Harry knew he was lucky to spend this sort of time with her, and he wasn’t going to risk wasting a moment. All he’d been able to think about during the week was how she had felt under his palms.

As expected, his hand was dropped as they got inside and he said the release command for Buttons, letting her say hello to the excited animal. He whined and went in circles as Y/N giggled, brushing her hands over him and telling him in a soft voice that she had missed him so much. He had to check himself when he found it a bit too cute. Seeing her be this sort of soft was beyond attractive. “Do you want me to put this away on my own, or did you want to come with me?” He said after a few moments.

“Oh! May I come?” She looked up at him with soft eyes, kneeling on the floor. The vision was marred by his own filthy vision, imagining this exact scenario with a vibrator tucked inside of her needy pussy, tears in her eyes and his cock slipped from her mouth. He felt himself twitch in his trousers, trying to clear the rasp he knew would follow.

“There she goes. Asking for permission already.” His hand came down to stroke her hair, watching her eyes widen as she saw exactly what it was that she said. Her mouth opened to apologize, but he merely shook his head. “I like it, sweetheart. You look good like this.”

Y/N was burning between her thighs. It was the fastest she thinks she’d ever been aroused in her life. There was an intensity that radiated from him and a heat that crackled between them at her body reacted to his words. She hadn’t meant it like that, no. It was her trying to be polite, but this view was to her favor, too. Seeing him tower over her, his hand stroking her hair like she was the pet, feeding into a bit of a fantasy she had barely explored. That was the point of them, wasn’t it? It was just…. Y/N hadn’t expected for it to feel so good right off the bat. Had tried to write off their kisses and exchange last time as just initial excitement. It was clear now that it was far more than that. “Sorry.” She peeped, unsure of what else to say.

“None of that.” His scold was gentle as he twirled a lock of hair around his finger. “No apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong. You’re being a good girl for me already, Y/N.” The praise was sweet falling from his lips, smirk growing as he watched her clench her thighs in what she thought was probably a discreet manner. Buttons had ran off to his toy basket to play, losing interest once Y/N’s hands had fallen from him, but she stayed in her position. Did she even realize what a natural she was at this? When she’d expressed concerns about ‘not being good’ at this last time after this kissing had slowed, he’d been positive she was the perfect person for it- but this proved it.

The girl took a shaky inhale, smile painting her lips as she looked up at him with hesitancy. “May I get up?” Testing it out. It was difficult because all she wanted to do was please him, and she knew he’d written out terms but… she’d just walked in. It hadn’t been her intention to fall right into it, but they had. She wasn’t quite sure what to say about that.

Raspberry lips twitched as he let out a breathy laugh, nodding his head. “Very nice. Yes, you may. C’mon.” His hand was extended to hers and he helped lift her up, steadying her as she blinked at him. He merely gave her a comforting look before taking her hand in his again and leading her up the stairs. “Now, I’ve got two options. You can stay in the guest room, settle in there… or you can stay in my room, with me.” It was a loaded question, he knew. “You’re welcome to change your mind about either at any time, of course. It’s up to you.”

Y/N hadn’t expected the option to actually sleep in his bed with him. That felt… intimate. More intimate than she would have thought, but from what she had been taught so far? The whole thing was intimate. They weren’t doing just a scene, he was teaching her about this lifestyle and she felt excitement bubble in her tummy at the prospect of waking up next to him. He treated her so nicely like this. Surely, he was going to be a bit mean when they played and she craved that- but she had been craving that sort of intimacy desperately. Was it wrong to get her fill whilst she was here?

“May I sleep with you?” She asked with slight hesitation. It was also up to him, and though he had offered, she wanted to know his own preferences. “Is that something you’d like?” It was his house, she didn’t want to put him out.

And truthfully? Usually, he didn’t really care either way. Sometimes he got a bit itchy for alone time when it came to other arrangements he’d had but the man really couldn’t imagine being sick of Y/N. Not wanting to rub his hands all over her and have unadulterated access to her. To see her sleepy and soft in the morning light, see how he could mold her into his own body and possibly have a bit of morning sex. “I’d enjoy it if you did, yes.” He hummed, trying not to show his bias too much. Ultimately it was her decision to make.

“Okay.” She looked at him cautiously. “Then… I think I’d like to do that. Please.” Adding in the extra manners surely seemed to work in her favor, his smile brightening at it. It made her tummy flip flop, watching him look at her like that. It made her want to get more of it.

He’d shown her the guest room she could use anyway in case she wanted time apart from him- though he hoped that wouldn’t be the case- before opening the double doors to his bedroom.

It was a bit of a grand show off way, but he’d always liked the look of a suite. The doors opening and a tiny mini foyer before a hallway, opening up to the large bedroom. Hardwood floors and cream colored walls, a walk in closet to the left and the bathroom to the right as they walked through the hall, which he pointed out. His actual bedroom was quite large, with a fireplace, television, bookcase, large windows… the bed was on an elevated platform with four posters at the end. Her mind buzzed, knowing it was the perfect set up to tie her up. Leave her helpless. The dark red bedding popped against the cream and hardwood, somehow fitting his personality perfectly. It was clean, comfortable, but lived in.

“Wow, Harry. It’s gorgeous.” Her hand left his as she walked further into the room and looked at whole thing. The loveseat by the windows and bookcase, the incredible view over the hills. It was hard to imagine what this house would cost, but she had to think it was way more than she could fathom. He walked up to the bed and placed her bag there, arms crossed as he watched her pad across the room and take in details.

He liked the sight of her here. Her hair falling down her back and bouncing as she moved, she enjoyed the decor he put up and told him so. Harry did wonder if it was smart, keeping her in here with him. If he wasn’t going to set himself up for something painful considering he already felt a bit more for the girl than he should, but he couldn’t stop himself. Rationally he knew that she would probably go back to Danny after this was over and she had her ‘fill’ but… part of him hoped she wouldn’t. Even if she wasn’t with him, but someone who would give her what she wanted. What she needed. All without making her feel poorly about herself.

His hands itched as he watched her bend over to look at a photo frame on the bookcase, eyes falling down to her dress as it rode up and exposed the softness of her thighs. It was short, the dress, and he wondered if she’d done it on purpose. What she was wearing underneath all of it. Part of his mind wanted desperately to call her over, taunt her about the fact she was teasing him and fuck her throat as a ‘punishment’- but he didn’t want to scare her by moving too quickly. Instead, he would give himself a reward for his self control.

“Y/N? Come here please.” He stood by the bed and watched as she perked up, trotting over to him with a questioning look on her face. She didn’t do a thing to stop him as his hand cupped her chin, tilting her face up so he could look at her. “You’re still happy to be here, yeah?” His voice was soft as he tried to read her reactions.

It was hard for her to think when he held her this way, but she nodded insistently. “Of course. I’ve… I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” She admitted. It had been the whole week of texting and check-ins to make sure she had good days at work and it had become a routine she really liked. Their kissing and his firm tone had haunted her mind the entire time, making her crave more of it.

“Yeah? You have?” He hummed. “Should have known. You’ve been a sweet girl since I’ve met you, but… I didn’t expect this out of you.” His thumb ran over her bottom lip. “It’s a welcome surprise. Though I never thought I’d find myself in this position with you… I’m glad you’re trusting me enough to help guide you.” It made him feel really fucking good, honestly. Yes, Danny may have suggested it but she was the one with the choice. “I just want to remind you that if you’re ever uncomfortable, you safe word for me. If you want me to stop, tell me. If I’m too mean and you’re hurt, if anything I do hurts past the point of pleasure, if you’re panicking? Stop me. I’ll never, ever be angry with you for doing that.”

Y/N seemed to be the type to try and push through true discomfort to appease people. He didn’t want that with him. Of course, he would be pushing many limits. Physically and emotionally. But he didn’t want to cross those. It was a large responsibility any time he took a sub, but this was the biggest one yet. Someone he already knew and cared for, even if it was minor- and it was her first time dipping her toe into it. He was setting the tone for her experiences. It was a bit scary, though he’d never tell her that, but he was up for the challenge. “Promise me you’ll do that. For me. Not just as a dominant but as your friend and someone who cares for you.” He sighed, giving her a firm look.

“Promise. I promise, Harry.” She murmured, understanding the gravity of what he said. He took her safety seriously and he cared for her. “I’ll be a good girl for you. Swear it.”

Harry grinned, nodding his head. “I know you’ll be a good girl for me, pet. Knew it since you’ve walked in. You jus’ want to make me happy, don’t you?” His tone shifted, just slightly enough to make her body buzz. It was smooth, something reminiscent of last time she was here. At her nod, he let out a breath and smeared his thumb over her bottom lip again. “Good. You know…. Been thinking about these all week.” Her mouth, she realized. Something turned in her stomach and erupted into butterflies, eyes on his face as she tried to decipher what was going on in his mind. “M’gonna feed you and make sure you’re comfortable in a moment, but can I taste you again?” He hummed. “Do I need permission to kiss you this weekend, or is it something you’ll let me take as I please?”

The butterflies melted in her stomach, settling lower and heated her body up in a way she knew was arousal. Excitement. He was still so careful with her, tender, but she couldn’t wait until he was… less so. Until he took what he wanted, like he said, made her bend to his will. Told her what to do. Boss her around. But she understood he couldn’t read her mind and how she was fucking gagging for him to use her, to touch her, so she nodded.

“Words, Pet. Remember?” He raised an eyebrow and made her breathing catch as his grip on her face tightened.

“Sorry- sorry. Yes. You can… you can do whatever you want. I like when you kiss me.” She peeped, knowing that she was handing herself over to the man on a silver platter with all the dressings. “I want that.”

“There we go.” He cooed. “So good. Thank you for correcting that- don’t make me remind you again.” His face got closer to hers. “I’m glad our wants seem to be in agreement.”

Y/N’s brain went haywire as his lips pressed to hers before it went quiet. So quiet, so smooth as his mouth sipped at hers ever so gently before applying a bit more pressure. Her face was still firmly held between his fingers as he kissed her, her hands falling to his button up and curling into the fabric as she did her best to return the kiss the way he wanted. She’d never been kissed like this, where it was so abundantly clear that he was in charge. There was no fighting for dominance- Harry owned her mouth.

When he pulled away, the whimper fell from her mouth and she pouted as he chuckled, wiping his thumb over the corner of her mouth to clean her up. “S’okay, darling. Don't want you too worked up yet.” He brushed his nose against yours. “M’gonna take good care of you and your needy cunt. Don’t worry about that. But I’ve got to get you unpacked and some food in your belly before I can make you cum. Need your strength.” He sighed, pressing one last peck to her lips before pulling back. “C’mon. I’ve got a drawer cleaned out for you and the second sink is yours.

Y/N followed him on wobbly knees, wondering just how fucked she was going to be when this is how she felt from mere kisses.

—-

Dinner was eaten with a comfortable chatter between the two of them. It was surprisingly easy to just…. Be. Harry was a comfortable person to be around and she thought maybe that’s why she felt the way she did for him. Preening at his praise for her new project she shared with him, like a pup waiting for a biscuit. She’d trailed him around the house, going outside with him to take Buttons on his walk after he ate dinner where he had shown her around his yard. His pool, jacuzzi, garden, the tennis court and rock climbing wall- he seemed to have the works, and she was very jealous. What she wouldn’t do to live in this sort of house. Thankfully she was spending time here now, getting to pretend this was her life.

Standing on the deck, he whistled for Buttons to come back to them before turning to Y/N. “Think we’re getting close to having our fun together.” He hummed. “Tonight we’ll play a bit, get a feel for each other. Tomorrow, I’ll take you out for lunch. Then I was thinking…” he crossed his arms over his body and Y/N gawked at his arms. He was incredibly fucking hot. “I’ll take you to the toy shop. Let you pick something out to try. S’that something you’d be comfortable with?”

Y/N had to admit she didn’t expect him to do any of that. Not take her out, nor to a sex shop to get a toy for her, but the thought made her dizzy. It was so nice of him, so thoughtful, and still slightly dirty. She loved the idea, really, especially to spend time with him. “Yeah! I’ve never… I’ve never been to one of those before.” Her admittance was quiet. “Always been too nervous to go on my own. He never liked the idea of going even just to look, so I’m excited that you’d be willing to take me.”

God, Danny was a pussy, wasn’t he? You didn’t even have to be into kinky shit to go to a sex shop. Harry felt for her. Having that urge, that itch to scratch, and feeling like no one around you would accept you for it had to be an uncomfortable and lonely feeling. “Well I have a favorite shop and money to be spent. So allow me to treat you this weekend, yeah? More than happy to do it and let you experience new things.”

Y/N felt guilt at the prospect of him spending money on her, but he didn’t seem to be the type to take no for an answer. He’d had dinner ready for them, had helped her unpack her bag, ultimately taken care of her since she’d walked into the house. Even wiped the corner of her lip when she’d gotten a bit of sauce on it. It came so naturally between them that she knew she should probably be a bit concerned but she couldn’t be. Not with how good it felt. “Okay. I can- I hope you don’t feel forced fo pay for me. I have money I can spend too.” She peeped. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage or anything. You’re the one helping me.”

Harry clicked his tongue, brushing it off. “Well you’re the one letting me get wrapped in that snug little cunt eventually, yeah? Letting me throw you around a bit and have fun with you… so, that’s enough reason for me to want to do it.” He turned to her and pulled her against him, making her meet his eyes again. “For the time you’re alone with me, you’re mine. You told him he can’t touch you while you’re with me, yeah? M’the only one getting access to you like this?”

“Yes, sir.” She breathed, feeling herself melt in his grip. His tone had changed and she felt it between her thighs as he held the back of her neck.

“Then that settles it. I take care of what’s mine.” His mouth pressed to hers, stealing a kiss from her lips. “You’ve been doing well tonight. I think I want to play with you a bit now. Go upstairs to the bedroom and sit on your knees, right next to the bed. Hands in your lap.” The visible perk up made him want to smile, but he kept his face straight. Y/N was the prettiest thing, and he was more than looking forward to touching her now.

Y/N was more than eager, pushing past the nerves and nearly jogging up the stairs as she made her way to his room. He’d lock the house up and settle Buttons for the night, and she would wait patiently for him.

The hardwood was cold against her knees, but she did as he asked. Kneeling with her hands in her lap, she tried not to let her mind wander. Instead, she looked around the room and bought time as it rolled by. It was a bit uncomfortable, she couldn’t lie. She had to shift around, but the pain excited her a little bit. Her eyes had kept going to the clock by the bed, watching as 10 minutes passed. Each one made her more and more squirmy with the anticipation, but by the 13th minute she could hear his footsteps approaching and she settled into the final position, watching him walk towards her.

The man looked tall. Powerful. Someone she had to give into. She craved it. He stopped right in front of her, a gentle hum leaving his lips as he looked down, his hand coming over her head to caress her lightly. “Look at what a good listener you are, pet.” He murmured, fingers finding her cheek and brushing over them as she gave him her eyes. “This is a beautiful sight to walk into. S’where you belong, isn’t it?” His voice was… different. It held a different tone to it, a cadence that he didn’t have when speaking in other instances. It made her wet. “Belong on your knees, waiting for me to tell you what to do. Gorgeous”. He sighed, appreciating the view he had.

“Yes, sir.” She whispered, mouth suddenly dry as her hands itched to grab his belt and pull him closer so she could feel more of his body heat.

“You remember your safe word, sweetheart?” He asked, watching as she nodded. When she didn’t say anything else, his hand fisted her hair and tugged back, making her gasp loudly at the slight sting. It only made her feel hotter, mouth opening but failing to say anything. “What have I told you, hm? Told you to stop with the nodding and use your words, like a good girl.” He warned.

“M’sorry, I’m sorry sir. Yes, I remember.” She winced as the grip on her hair lessened, missing it a little bit as his lips twitched up. Why had she liked that so much? He’d stolen her breath with that move, and they’d only just begun.

“There we are. Don’t make me ask you again, or m’not gonna be as nice.”’he smoothed her hair back, taking a step forward. “I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to do with you. It’s exciting, you know? Having free reign over your body. A big responsibility, but it’s one I welcome.” Harry loved it now, seeing her reactions to him. She was doing her best to be good already. “It’s hard to plan when there’s so many things I want to show you. But I think we can have some of the basics now. Make use of those hands and take off my belt.”

Y/N’s shaky hands gripped the belt and slipped the tongue through the loop, the metallic sound filling the otherwise quiet room. Getting the latch undone, she began to pull at it and watched as the leather ran through the loops until the accessory was off of his body. He didn’t say anything, merely stepping closer to her. So close that her mouth was inches away from his groin, making her excitement build. He was hard. She could see it, the print of him through the fabric, and she wanted to touch.

“Look what you’ve done to me, darling. Got me hard just thinking about the filthy things M’gonna do to you.” He murmured, using his grip on her hair to pull her closer to him. Her nose brushed against his cock, Harry pressing her face against his pants with little effort. “Give me some kisses. Show me how much you want it.”

One thing was certain- Y/N was eager. The man watched as she nodded, lips pursing against the fabric as she kissed from the base all the way to the tip. Her breath was warm and leaked through the fabric, making his stomach tighten a bit. What got him was the fact that he could tell she enjoyed this, even being nervous. She continued, keeping her hands in her lap like the good girl she was for him. “There’s my good girl.” He cooed. “Do you want to take them off? Want to make me feel good and wrap those puffy lips around my cock, suck me down?” He mumbled, watching as she nodded- though she paired it with words this time.

“Yes, sir, I’d really like to. I want to make you feel good. May I?” She was a dream, really. Looking at him with pleading eyes, making him want to groan at how lucky he was to get such an eager little thing. He got to explore her fantasies with her and that was an honor.

“You may. Go ahead and take my pants off- but don’t touch my cock until I tell you to.” Harry was impressed thus far. Y/N was doing an incredible job, and he could see it on her face. How she was leaning into this, that she was a natural at it. Like she was slipping right into a roll she was made for. Her hands were shaky as they pulled his zipper down, fingers gently tugging at the waistband and leading them down his hips. He didn’t offer much help, watching as they were quickly pulled down to his ankles and she looked back up at him, making him lift his leg to let her slip them off completely. “Excellent.” He praised, watching as her fingers went to his briefs but stopped, eyes widening as she caught herself. He hadn’t asked her to take those off.

“I’m impressed.” He smiled, watching as she stayed where she was. “You were about to do something I didn’t ask for but you remembered. M’glad you caught that.” He could feel himself throbbing in his briefs though, and he desperately wanted her mouth on him. He’d been dreaming about it for days. “Go on. You can take those off.” Harry was arrogant at times, but the swell of his ego was massive as she pulled the fabric over his cock and her eyes widened at the sight of him. Her motions of taking the briefs off were even more hurried than the trousers, a little chuckle leaving his mouth. “Take me in your hand, give me a few tugs.”

Y/N was gentle with it, her warm hand shaking slightly as she curled it around the base of his cock. It wasn’t often she would call a dick pretty, but if any she had ever seen deserved that title? It was his. Thick, slightly curved with a ruddy pink tip. Leaking a little bit, making her pant. She wanted it in her mouth. The deprived girl wanted him to push her down on him until her nose brushed the groomed thatch of hair on his groin that led up to a little happy trail. Never in her life had her mouth gotten wet to the point she thinks she could drool over the sight of something, let alone a person. “You’re so pretty, sir.” She whispered, giving him a stroke. He was hot in her hand and she could feel him twitch in her palm, scooting forward on her knees so he was directly in front of her face.

“You think so?” He grinned. “Thank you, baby.”

Baby. Baby. Baby? Y/N liked that nickname a lot. Of course she had been called that before, but something about hearing it from him in this context made her whine. Audibly whine, embarrassing the fuck out of her as she hadn’t meant to do it out loud.

“Oh, you like that then? Sweet little baby.” The man crooned, stroking her hair back. “I have to admit… I didn’t expect you to be gagging for it like you are. But I’m pleasantly surprised.” He watched her pull his cock again, stroking with a gentle squeeze that made him exhale harder. “Prettiest baby, gagging for my cock. Are you going to let me down that throat, hm? Choke on me a little bit?” He purred, watching her eyes widen. “I know you will. But first, I want you to give me some kisses.” He was taunting her a little and he knew that, but he wanted to watch her squirm.

“Yeah- I, I really want it Sir. I wanna make you happy.” She rubbed the tip over her lips, his precum wetting them in a filthy vision that had Harry wanting to curse. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll listen.” Soft, hot lips began to kiss up the length of him. Wet kisses, her lips curling around the sides as she pulled back and kissed the other side as well. She wasn’t precise with it, choosing instead to let herself be a little sloppy with her kisses and watch his reaction.

“You are. Doing so fucking well, pet.” His praises made her smile against his length, which really was the filthiest, most lovely thing he’d ever seen. “You really are dirty, aren’t you? Don’t want to pull away from my cock so you smile on it. Do you think you can do it with me stuffed in your throat?” Realistically he knew she couldn’t- but her answer pleased him anyway.

“I’ll try anything for you.” She blinked up at him, resting the tip at her lips as she smattered kisses around the sensitive area. It took everything in her not to peek her tongue out and lick over the slit, but she had to be good for him. That’s all she wanted.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He mumbled, watching her give him her best pleading look. “Since you can’t safe word with me in your mouth, pinch my thigh if you don’t want any more. I’m going to let you start, but I’ll take control shortly after.” There was a pause. “M’gonna be gentler because it’s your first time with me, but in the future I’ll push you to your limits. Remember what I told you.” He’d never be angry or upset if she wanted to stop.

Y/N took the permission though, quickly pulling the head of his cock into her mouth and humming in relief. She’d been dreaming about this all week, just as he had. When he’d initially put her on her knees for him the first time they’d met up, she had hoped this would be the case/ but it was worth the wait with his fingers carding through her hair and taking a handful at the back of her head, loosely waiting as she sucked.

She loved oral. Really, she did, but there was something about Harry that made her all the more excited to do this for him. Perhaps it was the praise or just his energy, but she could feel the dull throbbing of her clit as she took a bit more of him down.

“Pretty mouth.” He mumbled, wiping the corner of her stretched lips was she got a bit messier. “Been thinking about it, having you here. Love that you’re eager for it. Are you this much of a cockslut for everyone else?” She tried her best to deny it, a muffled ‘mm-‘mm’ leaving her throat as she tried to take more of him down. “No? Only for me?” This was easier to confirm, bobbing her head a little bit. Harry let out a hiss as he watched her take more, the first tear slipping from her eyes without permission. He was making her eyes water already.

“M’glad to hear that. This is going to be your favorite cock, I bet.” He started to take over now, pushing her hand away. “Behind your back- good, perfect listening.” He praised, slowly pushing her further down on his length. “This is where you’re going to dream about being. On your knees for me, a bit helpless. But I think…. Fuck.” His eyes clenched shut for a moment as she gagged on him. He watched for any sign to stop, but she merely opened her wet eyes and looked up at him. “I think you like being a helpless little thing. You want me to use you.” He was getting down to it now, thoroughly impressed- but he felt her hand come up and tap his thigh, immediately pulling back. The girl let out a choked noise, Harry pausing and stroking her hair back, looking down in concern. “Okay, baby?” He whispered, watching her wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. “Need a break?”

“Y-yeah I’m okay. We can keep going but...” Her voice was hoarse. “I just- I couldn’t take anymore.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry. I wanted to take all of it. I tried-“ she was immediately cut off with Harry cooing at her, lifting her head up and his face bent down to look at her.

“None of that. It’s okay, darling.” He smiled. “M’just a bit too big for you to take yet. I know. It’s disappointing but…. You’ll learn.” He thumbed away a tear. “We can work on training that throat to take what it was made for. Okay?” Despite how dirty his words could be, he was still comforting her. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’re only just now learning how to be the little whore you’ve always wanted to be.” He got down further, pulling her face up for a messy kiss before straightening up. “How about this. You’ll let me fuck your mouth, but I won’t try and make you take it all. Really want to cum on this pretty face, been aching for it all day.”

Y/N was burning from his words, the lack of air, her throat. All of it felt good, though. She loved how he spoke to her, the zip of the degrading ruining her panties. She’d been so disappointed in not being able to take all of him, but she liked the idea he proposed. Training her. It made her think about spending more time with him. Sure, it was supposed to be a short term thing but… she was going to take her time if this was the only shot she had of living out her fantasy.

“Sound good to you, pet? You think you can handle it?”

“Yes, sir. Please fuck my mouth.” She whimpered, aching for him to get back into it.

And he did. Fuck, he really did.

Harry was gentle at first, scooping her hair up into a makeshift ponytail. She was kneeling on the bed platform, giving her more ease to suck at the level she was at and him the ability to move her as he pleased. At first he pulled her down onto his prick, easing her into it. Giving some semblance of choice- but when she proved she could take him, he began to truly fuck her mouth.

He wasn’t brutal, no. It wasn’t exactly what she expected- it was better. Firm with his strokes but only pushing her to the limit, making he drool around his cock as her hands were held behind her back. Her arms were starting to ache a bit from holding the position but she liked the burn. She liked that he held her head still while she laid her tongue flat and let him thrust into her mouth, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back in. Even more so, she loved how he talked to her.

“There she is. This is what my greedy pet wanted, isn’t it?” He purred, eyes dark as he looked down at her. “Taking it so well. Messy little thing.” His gaze was hooded as he pushed her down as far as he knew she was comfortable, pushing a bit and making her throat flex around him as he let out a deep groan that went straight to her cunt. “Fuck, yes. Work that little throat for me. Fucking perfect.” He hissed.

It was hard to see with her eyes tearing up but what she did see was perfection. Seeing him lose that control as he watched her swallow his cock, her lips strained from being wrapped around it. Her jaw was going to ache something fierce but it was worth it.

“Look so innocent, but you’re a deprived whore behind closed doors. Fucking love it, you know that?” He breathed. “Letting me show you how good it feels… how it’s good to let go and be the brainless slut you want to me. Just hand all that control over to me, open that pretty mouth and do what you were born to do. Pleasure me.” He was testing the dirty talk, giving her a glimpse of the degradation she had asked for but not go too hard into it. With each sentence he could see her clenching her thighs, he could feel how she sucked harder over him as he spoke. She liked it.

Harry was in heaven. Of course he’d expected a bump in the road, multiple really, considering no dynamic was perfect right off the bat- but Y/N was taking to it really well. He’d been impressed with how much of him she could take, the fact she wanted her mouth fucked, and to be honest? She was good. Sloppy, her inexperience in this showing, but really fucking good. He’d happily train her mouth and throat to take him all the way, but this was just as good. His head was swimming in pleasure, her hair tight in his hand as he watched her saliva drip down her chin and onto her poor dress, how she took it without complaining. The girl was a goddamn dream, and he knew this had been the right decision.

“Messy little baby. Making a fucking mess on my cock and your dress. It’s a good thing you’re not going to need to wear it for much longer.” He smiled, looking a bit drunk.Y/N loved being the one to make him look like that. “Really, you’re not gonna… not gonna need much clothing with me. Doubt you’ll want to wear any with how needy you are. Gonna bend over and offer yourself up to me.” He is breath hitched as he pushed deep, letting himself hold it there before pulling out and letting her cough. Y/N, the filthy thing, smiled at him with her wet eyes and soaked chin.

“Yes, Sir.” She breathed. “I want you to cum. Please…” she moaned as he rubbed the wet head of his cock over her cheek, painting it with her spit and his precum. She knew she had to look a mess, but Harry was giving her a look that made her feel like she was going to be devoured. “Please, I’ve been a good girl. I took you, I’ll keep getting better- I want your cum.” Her voice turned that tiny tinge whiny, just like he had predicted.

“You really are a cockslut. Should I add cumslut to your list of names too?” He chuckled in disbelief. His hand stroked firmly over his prick, smearing it over her face as her lips pursed to kiss it as it passed over. “Fuck me. Where did that shy little thing go? She’s gone away and left me with a filthy excuse of a pet.” He lowered his voice. “Love that. I think I can give you my cum. M’so close.” He head tipped back slightly as he pushed back into her mouth, taking a few dips in the wet heat. The only thing that could beat this was cumming in her cunt. Watching it drip out- but this would be a very close second.

“Beg me for it.” He ordered, pulling out and stroking right in front of her face. The dominant could feel it it in his balls as they tightened, watching her genuine need. “Be a good little pet, ask me for my load all over your pretty face.”

There was no acting here. “Please, please give me your cum sir.” She whined, panting as she pleaded. “I want it so much, I was a good girl and I- I need it. I want to be messy with your cum, I want to taste it.” She stuck her tongue out for a moment, letting him smack the tip over it a few times before he pulled back again. Wasn’t good enough.

“I’ve been thinking about it and touching myself imagining you all week- and, and I really really want you to cum on me. Make me dirty. I’ll do anything.” Her eyes watered again, “please? Please, sir.”

Harry liked that a bit too much. Y/N was a vision on her knees for him, with her wet face and teary eyes, a glow on her skin that only reminded him of how lucky he truly was to be in this sort of position. He was the first one to give her the things she’d been craving for god knows how long and she truly looked desperate for it. The poor thing was tearing up, falling slightly into that space he had been curious to see just at the prospect of his cum. He couldn’t hold back on her anymore, not when she had been deprived of most of the other things she wanted.

“Tongue out. Stick your fucking tongue out, and give me your eyes.” His words were chased through clenched teeth as he felt his stomach tightening, her pink tongue laid out and her breathing erratic as she nearly whimpered for him as he rubbed the head of his prick over her tongue. His eyes were glued to her, watching a single tear start to slip down her flushed cheeks- and that was it. He’d always been good at holding back his orgasm before but he couldn’t control this one, a heady groan echoing in the room as one hand held her head still whilst the other milked himself of his load. Watching it paint the pad of her tongue, some dripping down her chin as she tried her best to keep it all in her mouth.. She was such a good girl. It was in her nature, he could tell, and he had been the one to experience her first appearance. Her first bloom as she puffed against his cock, staying still while he fisted himself, making sure to drain every last drop from her balls on her waiting tongue. She deserved it. “There we are… there’s my pretty pet. Keep it on your tongue. Don’t swallow.” He could feel his legs slightly weaken as he regretfully pulled himself away. He needed a minute before he could do something else, but already he could feel his heat seeded in his tummy just by the view.

It was hard not to be obsessed with the image.

“Do you want to spit it out, darling?” His voice was softer now, hand that clenched her hair letting go to gently stroke her surely sore scalp. She whined in her throat though, shaking her head as her brows furrowed looking up at him. Christ. “You want to swallow it?” A nod. He’d underestimated just how dirty she was. “Alright, baby. Swallow it then, you were good. Can have what you want.”

Y/N looked up at him obediently, keeping their eye contact as he watched her swollen lips close and her throat bob from her swallowing. Gingerly tipping her head further back, he thumbed the spillage from the corner of her mouth across her lips and pressed inside, dragging the cum over the pad of her tongue and smiling as she gave him an unsure look. “Suck for me. There you go… M’so proud of you.” He cooed, gently pulling her body up to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling, hm? Throat a little sore?” The dominant kneeled between her now split legs, thumbing over her bare knee as he checked in on her.

To be honest, she looked incredible. And he wasn’t just saying that because a dribble of his cum had gotten on her tits. She looked happy. A shy smile on her flushed face and a glow to her skin, eyes hazy and soft, this was the ideal he had for anyone he played with. Happy. He’d gone easy on her to start, but he could only imagine how fucked out he could get her later on down the line. When he pushed her to the limits and she became even more proud of herself for pleasing him, drunk on orgasm and giggly in that space only someone like him could get her to.

“M;okay.” She peeped, cautiously laying her hand on top of his. “Can I hold your hand? Is that okay?”

Harry felt his heart grow a little, smiling fondly as he flipped his hand over to intertwine their fingers. Their joined hands were brought to his mouth and a spattering of kisses was given to her knuckles, a show of appreciation for her and fondness over the cute little shit she did. “Fucking adorable. Y’know that, darling?” He chuckled under his breath. “Need to check in on you though. Make sure you know just how incredibly you did, that you were okay with everything that just happened, if you need anything to change. I went a bit easy on you for our first time.”

Y/N’s head was swimming in a good way. Of course it had been far more intense than any blowie she had ever given but that was the point. Harry had been the one in control all while giving her a little leeway. Her face had been fucked, albeit not as much as she had hoped. Her body was still hot over the idea of him training her throat to take him. There were so many things that should be floating through her head right now but it was hard to think further than Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. He’d been so good to her, given her that taste she had been gagging for and now she knew she wanted more. This feeling was addictive. Maybe her head was swimming from the slight lack of air, but maybe that meant she’d be even more into breathplay than she imagined. Either way, she was happy.

“M’so happy.” She admitted, the rasp of her voice making her toes curl. He had done that to her. “I liked it all. Liked how you pulled my hair, how you talked to me a-and that you just… you fucked my face. I’ve wanted it for ages.” Her face felt hot even admitting that but there was nothing but acceptance and pride on his face as he nodded, lips brushing against her hand. His stubble was scritchy and she liked that. “Was a little disappointed I couldn’t take it all though. You’re… you’re bigger than anyone i’ve been with.”

“Didn’t expect you to.” The man laughed. “I know it’s a lot for your throat, sweetheart. Hasn’t been properly fucked before. Stroking my ego a little with that, but I’m patient. I’ll make sure you can take it soon. Just takes a little practice.” his face leaned closer to hers. “Luckily, I’m full of that when it comes to teaching you. You’re a lot of fun.” His lips pressed against hers chastely, pulling back with a pleased look on his face. “I know you’re probably wanting a little bit of relief, throbbing for me to touch you, aren’t you?” He hummed, watching as she eagerly nodded, blinking at him in hope. However, he wasn’t going to make it that easy for her. “But I think…” The evil little smile on his face made her nervous. “This would be a good time to show you your own bit of patience.”

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curtsycream · 10 months ago

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My Greatest Love, My Greater Enemy

James Potter x F!Reader

endgame is Remus x Reader but it’s still James centric for the angst. I love that trope where one falls first but the other falls harder yet it’s too late to do anything about it. Not proofread, oops

No one tells you when it’s too late how much it hurts. No one warns you of the pain in your heart when it happens. No one tells you that you’ll spend many days and nights worrying about why it happened. No one does…

Her eyes followed his as he looked across the hall at her. The way his smile changed from being subtle to a full blown grin. Yet she didn’t falter remembering his mischievous nature.

But it didn’t stop her from comparing herself to Lily Evans. The redhead was an image that lingered in her mind at night. Sometimes she took up too much space and all she could think about was how much it would hurt if he loved her.

Though that thought was just an idea one that wasn’t true until it was. As she sat in the common room beside her friend she couldn’t think of anything to say. But he could, he always could when she was around.

It was a bittersweet feeling being happy for someone while also dreading that you weren’t the reason for it. Though it was her own fault she never had the right words to use. She never knew how to tell him just how much he meant to her.

Until it was too late.

Standing in front of James she looked anywhere but at him. The confession still fresh on her tongue as she waited for him to say something, anything really. But as her eyes found their way back up to his face he looked worried.

It took everything in her not to crack a smile and tell him it was just a joke. But she knew better than that, he would know better than that.

“I’m sorry dove, but I just don’t feel the same.”

Those words when he spoke them didn’t hurt as much as she thought. Maybe it was the way he looked at her as if she would break on the spot. Or the way he said those words as if she was fragile and needed to be held onto.

“It’s okay, Jamie.”

He found it odd the way his heart sank when she didn’t hang off every word he said. How she no longer waited for him after quidditch practice to tell him he did well. Or even when she would offer him one of her many baked goods because she was curious of the taste.

But what he found the strangest is how his heart ached when she began to do those things with someone else. He wasn’t upset when she hung off of every word Remus said or how she would sit in the common room and read with him. Or even how she would go up to Remus and offer him those same baked goods.

What he felt for Lily was spurred on by his many years of playfulness. But what he felt for her was something much more what he felt for her made his heart pound in his chest.

It left him anticipating seeing the way she would laugh to herself when she read. How her eyes held a tiny hint of mischief when he would talk about pulling a prank with the other marauders. But most of all he just missed having her treat him the way she used to.

But he was too late as he watched Remus kiss her forehead as she handed him a cookie. The look in their eyes was mutual and it pained him even more. It continuously reminded him of how his eyes were filled with something different when she confessed to him.

Hesitation.

‘If only’ rang deep in his mind as he finally looked away from them snuggled up together. In another universe he would probably be laughing and smiling and nothing bad would have happened to them. But in this universe he had no one but himself to blame for hesitating.

But oh how the universe will always be his greatest friend and his biggest enemy.

Expect a Regulus, James, and Robin Buckley fix soon. I have three or four lined up. I also have a few requests to get to before I do a few more smut fics

#james potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #marauders #marauders era #angst #xreader #x reader #James blurb #f!reader #James fic

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yoomiwrites · 7 days ago

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Missing Ghost²

Summary: After losing her memory in a storm, a young Marine remembers only the name “Mihawk” and sets out to find him, convinced he holds the key to her past. As she sharpens her skills and follows his trail across countless ports, Mihawk is always just out of reach. Finally, she arrives at a port where his ship waits, knowing her answers are close.

Note: Since a lot of you enjoyed the first part —or rather the Trailer???— of Missing Ghost, I'll give you the second, which explains a little more. However, this story here won't get a fixed update scedule. But I promise, whenever we hit the 30 reactions, the new chapter will follow soon. Anyways, we got some skips here and there in this chapter, which might confuse you (sorry for that) but the next ones have a smooth flow. Gotta explain her side as well before we jump into our dramatic slow-burn.

The scent of saltwater clung to the breeze as I awoke, the distant murmur of waves steady and comforting, yet unfamiliar. It felt as though I’d drifted through a dream, a long, unbroken night I couldn’t remember. The first thing I saw was the kind face of an old woman bending over me, her hand resting on my shoulder as she whispered to someone nearby, "Thank heavens, she's alive."

For a year, the faces of this little coastal town became my whole world. These people—strangers at first, though I’d come to see them as family—had found me washed up on their shore after a heavy storm. They cared for me, helped me heal. They told me I had come in on a rough tide, barely breathing. My past was blank, a black slate, as empty as the horizon.

Yet there was a restlessness within me, a flicker of something left undone. I would catch myself watching the ocean, feeling a pull toward its vastness, like an anchor somewhere deep within me, half-forgotten and buried in the depths.

I tried to ignore it, forcing myself into a routine, helping with the nets, mending sails, doing small, clumsy chores around town. The villagers laughed at my mishaps, good-natured and warm, and I laughed along with them, though a part of me always wondered why everything felt so… wrong, somehow. Like wearing clothes that didn’t fit.

And then, one evening, as I watched the sun dip below the horizon, something strange came over me—a memory, slipping into focus for just a heartbeat. It was of a man, standing tall, his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s gaze, cutting through everything they touched. His form was shrouded in darkness, yet I could sense the weight of his stare, the cool indifference he wore like a cloak.

Dracule Mihawk.

The name surged through me, as if pulled from the depths of the sea itself. It tasted familiar, filled with fear and awe, with a reverence that felt misplaced, yet urgent. His voice echoed in the back of my mind, words as cold and biting as steel: “You’re supposed to be watching me, not getting yourself killed.”

And then, like a fragile thread slipping through my fingers, the memory faded, leaving only the faintest trace, like footprints in the sand washed away by the tide.

Days passed, and I could think of little else. The name haunted me, a specter hovering at the edge of my consciousness, tugging at some long-buried duty. I tried to bury it, to shake off the strange yearning, yet each time, it returned stronger, more insistent.

Then, one night, as a storm rolled in, I felt a reckless determination rise within me. I had to know who I was—had to know why the name of a Warlord carried such weight within me, why it felt like my life had revolved around that solitary, distant figure.

As the storm thundered above, I knew what I had to do.

I packed what little I owned, slipping away before dawn. I didn’t know where I was going or if I’d even find what I sought, but I knew I couldn’t stay here, not anymore. I had to find Mihawk, to remember why he haunted my dreams. And maybe, just maybe, I’d find myself in the process.

In my heart, I could still hear the echoes of my own laugh, wild and breathless, lingering in the back of my mind like a fragment of the past I couldn’t quite grasp.

The small boat cut through the waves, though each crest grew higher and stronger, rocking the vessel with an intensity I hadn’t anticipated. For a while, I managed well enough, adjusting as the water slapped against the sides, my hands tight on the oars. I’d learned to fish out here, enough to know how to read the currents, to feel when the sea was ready to turn against you. But now, as I looked out at the dark, churning horizon, I felt a prickle of doubt.

My mind kept drifting back to him—this elusive figure who seemed to haunt my memory and my purpose. I couldn’t shake the feeling that finding him would somehow explain everything, that he held the key to the pieces I couldn’t remember. Mihawk. The name itself felt heavy, burdened with something I couldn’t name. And each time I tried to recall him, his face slipped away, features blurring into the shadows, like he was some phantom my mind had conjured.

But even though his image stayed frustratingly vague, the feeling was as sharp as ever. I knew it was real. And I knew I had to find him.

The waves rose higher, and I braced myself, leaning into each swell with a determination that was half instinct, half desperation. The salt stung my skin, the chill of the ocean seeping into my bones, but I pressed on. It had been around a year since I’d woken on that lonely shore with no memory, no past, nothing but the kindness of strangers who didn’t ask questions. And yet, beneath the surface, this pull toward something—someone—was always there, like a silent tide that had finally dragged me out to sea.

I tried to picture him again, forcing myself to concentrate. A flash of his eyes—piercing, unyielding—came to mind, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. I could almost hear his voice, cold and amused, saying once more: “You’re supposed to be watching me, not getting yourself killed.” There was no warmth in those words, yet something in them rang familiar, almost comforting, like I’d heard them countless times before.

A hard wave broke against the boat, yanking me from the memory. I gasped, feeling the boat tip precariously before I steadied it. Every time I focused on Mihawk, on those fractured glimpses of the past, the sea seemed to rise in response, as if testing my resolve. I wondered if he was as dangerous as the ocean itself, as indifferent to life and death, sweeping in and out of people’s lives without a trace. And yet, if he truly was that figure, why did I feel this pull to find him, this sense of trust mingled with wariness? It made no sense, but here I was, risking everything on a memory as thin as smoke.

Ahead, I could see the faint outline of an island, its shape barely visible against the steel-gray sky. Relief mixed with fear as I realized I was getting closer to my goal. If I could reach a port, I could ask around, maybe find someone who knew his name, or knew where he could be found. Mihawk was a Warlord; surely, someone, somewhere, would know something about him. At least that was what the kind people of my island had told me.

But as I rowed, a single question lingered, haunting me as much as his name did: If I found him, would he remember me?

I couldn’t shake the image of those intense, unreadable eyes watching me, studying me like I was some strange creature that had somehow stumbled into his world. And though the image was as unclear as the horizon in a storm, I felt a flash of defiance, of determination. If he didn’t remember me, I would make him. He was the only link to who I had been, to everything I had lost. And if I had to face the storm to get there, then so be it.

Another wave crashed against the boat, nearly knocking me back. My hands ached, but I held on, fighting the urge to look back at the safety of the shoreline far behind me. I kept my eyes forward, fixed on the island.

The dock was bustling as I arrived, my clothes soaked with sea spray, exhaustion settling into my bones. But my heart was pounding as I scanned the horizon, hoping, daring to believe that maybe, just maybe, this time he would actually be here.

I had been on his trail for what felt like forever. Each time I thought I’d caught up to him—whispers in taverns, rumors in passing, a hushed mention of “Hawk Eyes Mihawk”—I’d find nothing more than empty docks or vague traces of his presence. It was as though he was always one step ahead, a shadow slipping through my grasp. I grew used to the strange, half-maddening cycle of arriving somewhere, just a few hours too late. There’d be an empty mug in an inn, a murmur of a cloaked figure sighted in a nearby town. But never him.

At first, it had been simple enough to pick up his trail. I found myself listening intently to sailors’ tales and buying drinks for anyone with even the slightest hint of information. But as months turned into years, I learned quickly that mere words weren’t enough. I couldn’t rely on others. So, I fought. I survived, tracking down pirates and mercenaries who owed their lives to Mihawk—or feared him enough to give me scraps of knowledge, little more than breadcrumbs. With every fight, every encounter, I grew stronger, a clumsy, scattered style slowly becoming something sharper, something that could almost be called technique.

I could almost feel Mihawk’s ghostly disapproval as I fumbled my way through fights in the beginning, wielding a blade with a mixture of grit and inexperience. He was an image, a goal I couldn’t quite touch, and as time passed, I wondered if he’d simply vanish again like the dream I couldn’t remember. But something in me wouldn’t let go. He was out there. And the small memories I had of him felt realer, more vivid, as if he were watching, aware that I was on his trail, though always staying just out of reach.

Sometimes I wondered if he was avoiding me, if he had no intention of ever meeting me again. Perhaps, to him, I was nothing more than a ghost, something easily ignored and forgotten. The thought gnawed at me, but I kept going, surviving each storm and each struggle, clinging to the hope that I would find him, that I would finally learn who I was and why he haunted my memories.

And now, as I stood at the edge of this crowded port, I felt a surge of hope—and fear. His ship was docked here, the enormous black vessel unmistakable, casting a shadow over the water. People whispered in awe and fear, as if his mere presence filled the air with a kind of sharp, electric tension. There was no mistaking it; he had to be here.

I took a shaky breath, trying to ignore the thrill of adrenaline mixed with exhaustion. After all these months, all these years of following nothing but a rumor, I was finally close. Somewhere in this town, he was here. I could almost hear his voice again, cold and distant, watching me with that sharp, unreadable gaze, reminding me of how far I still had to go.

This time, I wouldn’t let him slip away.

#one piece x reader #one piece #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk

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onyourhyuck · 1 year ago

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Popular. | N.JM | PART 3

— Prologue: “Tell me how I can fix this” + “You can’t. Everything is temporary, this was merely one of those things.”

— Summary: Revenge becomes love? Old faces become new faces? Where you enroll back to your old school where you got bullied, to get revenge on Na Jaemin but he cannot recognise you.

— Genre: Popularboy!najaemin x goodgirl!y/n. Revenge plot with romance and smut. Mention of bullying. Plot twists. Very sensitive subjects no minors. School sex(?) exhibition. Jaemin’s obsessed with y/n. Enemies to lovers (kinda)

— Notes: Popular — The Series Masterlist.

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“Let me get this straight, Y/n.” — “And I’m not straight at all so this is going to be hard.” Yunjin said matter of factly right after.

The voice of your best friend Yunjin was rather bleak and still trying to figure this all out. Yunjin is a young girl who you knew since a very young age. The two of you grew through all the odds; thick and thin. And even the situation that happened two years ago at the school. It caused your mental health to go down the shit hole and what more you suffered a lot. Yunjin was the only friend you had by your side through all of that and ever since you enrolled back into that school she’s been trying to peruse your judgement to turn away and forget about revenge.

But you can’t forget about the pain they caused you. You won’t ever feel at peace unless you put them in their place and show them what their actions did to someone like you.

“You’re invited to the party with the people who bullied the shit out of you?”

When Yunjin found out on message that you’re going to a party tonight. Ningning’s party you left out purposely for her but somehow your best friend managed to find out! And what else? Yunjin is now forced to see you change in your bedroom looking through your closet.

The two of you recently became roommates so you guys feel a lot closer than before. None of you have a bedtime schedule or whatever. But that doesn’t mean Yunjin will just let you walk into a party thinking you can do whatever you want.

“You. You are going to a party? Y/n you hate parties! You used to call them the gateway of slackers who don’t do anything to contribute to society.”

“Y/n are you even listening to me right now?” She terribly sighs seeing you picking out different dresses.

Okay that was the old you, the old you who didn’t care for popularity at all. You sigh throwing back the summery flowy dress. This won’t fit Ningning’s dress code: you need to look expensive like you’re someone rich daughter. You can’t go to a party sticking out badly. You need to stick out in a good way. You’re already getting unwanted attention because you’re the new girl. You might as well look nice and presentable.

“Yeah well… what do you think of this?” You force a smirk turning around with a red dress putting it in front of Yunjin who stares at you with an eye roll.

You’re now trying to change your best friends worrisome nagging. You need her help, you don’t need her to be worried and mothering you right now. It’s why you moved out.

So you can escape your own mother’s advice. You don’t need Yunjin doing the same to you now.

“Makes you look like slightly older than you already look, pass.” She didn’t approve of that red dress and it was quite an old dress. You throw it away on the floor sighing.

Instead you found that your best friend opens her wardrobe now and brings out a white dress that looks quite expensive. Yunjin always had the most expensive taste but what can you say? She was like a sister to you. The sister you asked for but never got. The girl turns to you putting the dress in front of you and pushed it on your chest with a smile.

“Go wear this, show them what you’re made of.” Yunjin now said slightly more encouragingly even though she spend the last hour and a half saying to you how bad of an idea this was and that you should’ve moved on and lived a happier life.

You wanted to say no, this was her dress. You couldn’t accept something this big and precious to Yunjin. But your best friend gave you a stern look when she saw your expression that she already knows you’re about to reject her dress.

“No, no, close your mouth and go change.” Yunjin said with a laugh and pushed you towards the bathroom so you change in peace. “Ugh fine fine.” You grumble with a little smile that you appreciate her so much. She does a lot for you.

You don’t know what you’d do without Yunjin.

The moment you step out wearing this slit on open white dress you feel like a princess out of a fairytale. Yunjin looks back at you for a moment, she couldn’t recognise you. You look different when you’re dressed up and happy. For once you look like you are determined and you feel great. Yunjin gave a little smile before pulling up in front of you.

With hands going around your neck Yunjin gave a small golden necklace around your neck to make the outfit stand out more. She loves styling you up you can tell.

You smile putting a hand on the chain at your collarbones where it rests. “Yunjin, this is your necklace.” You said with a sigh.

She rolls her eyes. “I know. I’m only letting you borrow it. Don’t worry.” She smirks and now passed you matching white heels. “You can’t go without heels.”

You knew she was right, you cannot pass up on those heels before you start to leave for the party. You have a ride coming in less than a few minutes and it’s a taxi you’re taking to the location that Ningning sent you formally.

You just pray you don’t get lost. But you doubt you will since the party will be probably loud and obvious.

Your eyes glance back at Yunjin once you were done putting on the heels and you are standing by the door, with your purse as you saw that Yunjin was smiling ear to ear watching you look very beautiful. Your hair was done in a neat bun and everything. You look glammed up and ready to go, which scares Yunjin too because well she doesn’t trust them lot of people. Not after what they did to you.

But who has the power to stop you? No one but yourself.

“You need to call me.” Yunjin firmly tells. She’s so protective it can make your heart beat so much faster.

You chuckle nodding. “Got it. I’ll call you once I’m outta there and in there. You happy with that?” You tell your friend hoping she was now feeling less stressed or worried. Yunjin smirks at your words and you and her make a last eye contact before your taxi pulls up to your house waiting for you to get in.

“Yeah.”

The taxi driver pulls up on the empty dark road. You get out carrying your purse in your hand and you take your phone out texting Yunjin that you arrived at the location.

Music was coming from the direction where the house was. It wasn’t even a house to you considering it looks like a villa. You sometimes forget that Ningning isn’t exactly from a decently normal family background.

You were always slightly envious because of that. You never got invited to the parties she hosts because back then, you were a nobody. No one, just a problem. Maybe even a nuisance.

Your thoughts are running wild so you try to calm them and just tell yourself why you’re here and what you’re here to do. You’re here to dig up something, anything. That something can be anything. Just a weakness to destroy Ningning enough so you feel satisfied. You pray you don’t have to take too long to be at this party but then again you’re here to build a name for yourself in the process.m

Maybe sparing a hour or two hours at this party won’t be so bad, you thought.

Slowly you bring yourself to the party where it all begins. You are in the spotlight. The moment you came there was people staring you down, whether it was the design of your clothes, your posture, your heels or your hair; people were judging you from head to toe trying to find a flaw. You see these cliques take dressing like it was the hungry games. You thank Yunjin for giving you expensive clothes for tonight to wear otherwise you wouldn’t of last. You’ve always been low maintenance. Preferring comfortable clothes and shoes. These people don’t understand comfort. They bleed beauty from inside and outside.

They were eying you with hunger or admiration. You can’t tell what they are thinking but you chose to move forward.

People always think the rich parties are amazing but now that you’re at the party seeing it and experiencing it; you have to say you’re left with a clump of nothing in your stomach. Everyone is too concerned with their so-called-status and you are left watching people get drunk and dance around to the disco music. The house was so huge you swore it can fit an entire country of civilians in this house the host owns. So many people would be begging on their knees and selling their soul to stand on these floors, to walk and hangout with them no matter if it’s fake friendship or not. To you you’re doing it for revenge but others would die for this.

And you’re here left wondering why? You see some kind of sadness in Ningning. She was a perfectionist. Wanting and striving to be the best one and if anyone was better than she was, it would be the end of the world for her.

Coming across the pool where the main attraction was happening. You see ningning sitting on the sun bathing chairs with black bikini set, sunglasses on her head when she saw you.

Ningning’s expression sours when she saw you but of course she cannot let her jealousy get to her when she saw what you’re wearing. You look beautiful and it’s definitely ruining her night.

God why must you get on her nerves so much?

“Y/n you arrived.” She said with a bland tone watching you come closer and you gave her a small nod with a short awkward smile.

Now that you’re thinking about it you see Chenle with swimming trucks on. The beautiful young boy sitting on the poor edge dipping in his calves and legs soaking inside the pool water, he saw your eyes on him and he smirks at you with a handsome expression as he pulls the black glasses away. The hair was lightly damp and you feel your eyes moving from Ningning to Chenle side to side.

These two are always together so you kept a mental note of that. If Chenle disappears then Ningning is gone too.

“New girl you’re on everyone’s eyes so far. I can understand why. You’re glowing tonight.” Chenle comments as he lifts the lemonade in the glass sipping it with the purple small straw.

You feel your mind wander off when Chenle gave you a compliment. That’s so uncommon you weren’t sure how to feel hearing it. It was both nerve wrecking but you’re glad — it means it’s working whatever you’re doing right now.

You’re gathering popularity little by little. Chenle sits up with a phone in his hand now pushing it in front of you as he smirks. “Mind giving me your instagram so I can post you on it? I have a feeling we will be getting along.”

You see Ningning giving you a glaring side eye. You look back at the black phone that looks like the grandest new addiction phone you ever saw before. You put on a small smile nodding. “Alright.” You thought this was working out perfectly. He’s posting you on his story and at this point you feel like the amount of followers he has they will double to your account.

Writing your account on the search bar on the app you find your account and you press the follow button. Giving the phone back to Chenle who smirks seeing your username.

“Thanks.” He grins. “I’m getting a drink Ning. You want something?” He now shouts turning to the girl laying down with a scowl.

“Martini, Lele!” She demands as her best friend went away to gather the drink she wanted meanwhile you’re now stuck sitting with Ningning in silence by the pool.

What do you even do at a party now that you think about it?

What do you speak about too? You don’t drink. You never danced. You’re not the type to even attend parties but now you’re having to pretend like you know what you’re doing over here so you don’t seem too suspicious. But you’re so stiff.

Everyone here was dancing moving their bodies to the music letting their worries out of their heads but you, you can’t let loose like that. You can’t have fun in this setting. It’s just not your scene I guess, never was but you came for another reasoning than to have fun.

Ningning’s glare made you even more on the edge. “So Y/n. What do your parents do?”

‘Ah she’s trying to dig information to use against me.’ You thought. Of course she is.

“Business.” You say quick trying to makeup a lie on the spot. You can’t have them thinking you’re from an average background family otherwise it would make them think less of you.

They thought of you less in the past because of it so why say the same answer when you know the truth? You decide to make a white lie. Not like they will try to figure out more than that.

Ningning’s body stands up and she now sits next to you as she became intrigued when you said business and she raised her eyebrows up. “Oh really? What type of business?”

You clear your voice. “Fashion business. They do it overseas too.”

You’re going based on the fashion you’re wearing tonight. You’re thanking your best friend Yunjin for majoring in fashion right now.

You fake a smile. “How about your parents, Ningning?”

The girl starts to now boast. Of course why wouldn’t she? Ningning is proud of her family jobs and so much more it’s why she had do whatever she wanted in this house. “My family are doctors.” She smirks watching your reaction and you gave a small nod. They must make a ton of money you thought. And they probably don’t have any time for Ningning at all. It was kind saddening for you. “Everything you see is out of my family’s money.”

“But don’t let it get to you. This is their money not mine.” Ningning’s condescending tone really put you in a tough spot as she makes you laugh a bit under her breath to lighten the mood at least.

The girl was flexing you knew it but what can you do? You’d flex it too if you were in her position. Ningning smirks seeing your small laugh but she looks back at the pool area which was more of a lounging thing. Silence became a thing until Chenle came back with the martini and a beer of can in his other hand that he was sipping from casually. He sometimes looks like the most ordinary guy but you knew that deep down, Chenle was probably the most outstanding guy you can meet. He was lavish.

Chenle coos to Ningning handing her the martini. “Here you go.” He sat down sipping the beer but now you stood up. “I need the toilet. Do you know where it is?” You ask the girl with a short smile.

Ningning looks back at you as she sips the martini slowly taking the olive on the toothpick off as she bite into it. You hate to admit it but she’s quite beautiful when she isn’t glaring at you, especially while sipping the martini.

“Ugh. It’s upstairs on the left. You’ll see it immediately just keep your eyes open.” You slowly nod while listening to Ningning giving you directions, you walk away going inside the house leaving them two now.

As you walk upstairs your eyes slowly look over scanning the different rooms. Your hands brush over the single handed doors peeking in. You see multiple study rooms and the bathroom like Ningning said where it was but you don’t actually need the toilet. You look away and quickly brush over a specific door on the right corner going inside it.

The room smells of perfumes and you sniff around. Ningning’s perfume was overflowing the entire room you can definitely tell this was her room now, you don’t even need anything to clarify it.

Your body walks around the bedroom and you go over to the computer desk turning on the pc. You realise that there was in need of a password and you turn your head to the side when pushing your elbows on the side suddenly catching your eye was a picture frame.

“Hm… password.” You thought as you search around the bedroom now for anything can be the password. You see it’s quite obvious to figure it out once you think in simple ways.

9 out of 10 chances of a password being a word you keep close to you around all the time so the chances of remembering it was higher. You need to find a word that was very close to the girl otherwise you won’t find the password

You pick the picture frame up thinking. It was a picture of Chenle and Ningning at a private beach house with fireworks in the background they set up in the past.

“Don’t tell me…” you say having a moment of realisation as you put the picture back down on the desk so you can type the password you are taking a wild guess what it could be.

You press the words ‘Lele’ in the password bar and then pressing enter you see a green check appear and you smirk ear to ear finding yourself to be quite smart for a moment.

“I’m a genius.” You whisper to yourself proudly for a moment as you start searching her files for anything you can use against Ningning. Anything.

Who would’ve guessed Chenle was her password? You think it was a lucky guess of yours from earlier. You search her computer until you bring yourself to go to the delete trash bin app on the computer. You found nothing saved but perhaps, perhaps the trash bin has something right?

And you were right. People never empty their computers thinking no one would get on them. Well Ningning you are in for a catch, you thought deeply. The pictures you see in the trashbin was something forbidden.

You grin downloading the pictures on your phone. You airdrop them up on your phone and then you slowly start to take all of them in.

Ningning is going down after this, you vow. There’s no way she will recover from this at all.

Then outside you heard the steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widen in panic as you slowly turn around listening but the music downstairs was muffled and the footsteps got more and more closer. You start to slowly shut down everything and you move out the chair.

Your feet slowly walk out of Ningning’s bedroom and you creep inside the bathroom door as soon as possible but then a hand stops you from going there. The smell of a wood musk inhaling your nostrils makes it flare. Your eyes widen as you look up and the man stopping you was looking down at you with a wide grin.

The sight of you was heavenly. You look beyond beautiful tonight and you found yourself feeling small when trapped by a long hand stopping you going to the bathroom.

“There you are, Y/n. Where are you off to?” The deep voice strikes you. Jaemin was staring you up and down and you look at him with a scowl. “Toilet. Why? Am I not allowed to go now or what?”

“No, no of course not. I know what to not ask a lady.” He smiles laughing while he pulls his hand back and you want to already leave the party at the sight of the annoying clingy man back again.

Thank god you got what you needed. You try to now leave past him but Jaemin grabs your wrist pulling you back in front of him where he can see you for a little longer.

He can’t get enough of you, and tonight he wants to savour it more. “Y/n what’s the rush?” He says with a small chuckle seeing your annoyed gaze again.

You sigh. “Jaemin what do you want?” Jaemin smiles when you asked him this finally. He waited to tell you what he wants right now.

“I want you. Come dance with me?” He now offers giving you his hand forward and you stare at him in a slow moment of thoughts.

You don’t know how to dance.

“I rather not.” You state blankly.

Jaemin comes forward slowly closing your bodies gap while begging you as his voice drops to whispers. “Please? Why won’t you dance with me.”

You try to avoid him as much as possible but it’s quite hard when he’s pleading you in that voice it makes you weak slightly. Weak to your knees. You can’t tell if it’s because he sounds attractive when he’s begging you, or if it’s the heels you’re wearing.

“Jaemin, I can’t dance.” You murmur in soft embarrassment.

He smirks hearing you admit it. Is this why you rejected him? He was expecting you to say something more life-ending. “That’s okay, princess. I’ll help you.” He reassures and it somehow made you feel better.

It shouldn’t make you feel better. But it did and does make you feel so much lighter than before.

Pulling you back on the dance floor downstairs. He and you were in the crowd slowly dancing, it takes you a while to loosen up but he wraps a hand by your waist pulling you closer while his fingers brush against your bare back. You feel your breath being held in and you don’t realise it while he was dancing and moving your body along the moves. You and him are overtaking the crowd and as he was grinding by your body keeping you close as if he was possessive of you at the same time he wanted to show you off that he was dancing with you, he is the one dancing with you and no one else.

He didn’t want anyone else to see you but at the same time he didn’t want you to be hidden away from the world so what he does is to show you off while having his hands all over you while he teaches you to dance.

“That’s it Y/n, You’re getting it.” He told you against your ears as Jaemin’s face were brushing on your cheek while holding your hips on the side while you are dancing back and forth.

Jaemin saw your eyes waver from his eye contact and he twirls you around suddenly, bringing you back to his chest while holding your hand with a small smug smile.

He saw your surprised expression with a heavy sigh coming out of your mouth. “You look beautiful tonight by the way.”

You heard his voice tell you with sincere honesty and you smirk a little hearing it. Jaemin slowly adds. “Is it for me you’re looking this beautiful?”

“Keep dreaming.”

“It was worth asking.” He laughs a bit as you really cut him where it hurts the most but he doesn’t mind it. He finds your short blunt responses to his flirtatious comments to be very entertaining. Never once did he think he would become so obsessed with a new girl like you, but here he is.

He’s clinging on the bare minimum moments with you, like a lost puppy right now.

You slowly pull away from the dance. You saw Ningning eyeing you from across the dance floor as she’s dancing with Chenle now, somehow you feel like she’s burning the entire city down to ash when you’re around Jaemin.

In fact it’s Jaemin around you. You don’t really find yourself searching for the boy because he always finds you.

“I’m getting a drink.” You say while turning around going to find somewhere to find a glass of water anywhere at least.

You leave Jaemin at the dance floor while you do this you walk to the groups of people crowding the area without many thoughts you find your heart pacing super fast and your breath was caught in your throat when you walk bumping into another man and his partner arm in arm. They spill their drink over your dress and the other girl was also getting drinks spilled all over her dress while screaming. You let out a soft gasp.

Shit, you thought.

Yunjin’s dress was completely wrecked now. Stained by the alcohol drink spilling over it and you look over at the girl and the man who look quite pissed off right now.

The girl glares. “You did that on purpose didn’t you?” She shouts catching the people around attention and you stand there shaking your head about to say no but the girl pushed back pushing you against the wall as she was going to slap you over but then in the process of pushing you her nail got stuck to the necklace.

You gasp a bit catching the necklace on the floor while you push the girl away so you can grab the necklace on the floor. You can’t lose the necklace, not the necklace that Yunjin gave you.

Her boyfriend reacts when you pushed his girlfriend away to grab the necklace and when he approached you to go and do something worse, you thought he was going to hurt you badly, but the hand raising to hurt you was grabbed by a shadow overlooking in front pushing between the man and you.

Jaemin stood there grabbing the hand and pushing the man back to the ground before he looks over at you on the floor with spilled drink all over you. He kneels down grabbing your arm helping you slowly up. “Y/n are you okay?” He asked in concern.

You look back at the angry man and the woman too when he asked if you’re okay. You are but you’re completely overwhelmed. You’re shaking and right now you feel like old memories are coming to haunt you.

He feels you shaking in the hold. Jaemin pushed away when the people at the party started gossiping and recording. To take you away from the spotlight he brought you outside the house party now and sat you down by the nearby stairs in the front garden of Ningning’s home.

The tears running down your cheeks as you wipe them away. You can’t believe you’re crying right now in front of your own enemy.

You hate it, crying. You always hated it but what you hated the most was showing your tears to someone else it felt so pathetic.

You don’t even know why you’re crying? Maybe it’s because you know how much this dress and necklace met so much to Yunjin and she trusted you to wear it out tonight and you ruined it. You feel like it’s your own fault for not looking where you were going and Jaemin sat down next to you by the stair as he looks at you wiping your tears from your eyes with the back of your palm.

You look even more beautiful when crying. Jaemin was distracted by your beauty but he was checking you for any injuries.

“Y/n are you hurt?” He softly asks you.

You don’t reply as you’re looking at the broken necklace now too. You ruined her necklace. God you are going to be the worst friend ever when you return back home to your roommate.

He slowly moved a little closer. “Y/n why are you crying? Are you hurt? Show me where it’s hurting.” He demands now a little from you as you shake your head in response. “No… I’m not hurt.”

The boy hearing your words feels more relieve to know you’re okay but then why were you crying? He thought you were maybe scared or shocked by the fight earlier. You didn’t deserve it after all.

Your hair was slightly messy now and he moves strands of it behind your ears while he watches the tears staining your cheeks, just like how your dress was stained by the drinks dropped on you.

“Tell me how I can fix this?” He now asks you. He didn’t want to see you like this and it’s not even close to what he was feeling.

Seeing you cry like this makes him look for ways to destroy everything in his way right now.

Your voice between the sighs as you calm down slowly while your tears pushing back to your ears so they don’t fall out. “You can’t. Everything is temporary, this was merely one of those things.”

You try to sound tough and that this wasn’t bothering you. You don’t want to show that you are stressing over how you ruined this dress and it’s not even your dress. It’s your friend’s dress.

And you ruined it.

“If it was temporary why are you crying y/n? It must be important to you if you’re crying.” He says softly with a little smile while he puts an arm around you so you can now rest your head on his shoulder while he is running his fingers down your arms slowly. You knew Jaemin was right. If it was temporary you wouldn’t be crying like this.

You slowly whisper. “This dress and necklace, someone gave it to me. Someone that is very special to me.”

Jaemin listens to your words and he slowly nods. “Is that really why you’re crying so much?” He chuckles a bit he found you slightly cute when you cry over these things.

He found your empathy to be surprisingly… beautiful.

“How much do you need? I will give you.” He now said bringing his arm back while he faces you and your reaction falters at his words.

He will give you money to get your dress fixed? You can’t believe he would do something like this for you. Jaemin looks at you as if he was serious, serious on his words he just told you and you have no choice but to accept this.

“It’s okay Jaemin you don’t have to.” You state bluntly you don’t want to owe him anything but Jaemin ignores your words despite hearing you say this. He won’t accept a no as an answer.

Jaemin leans closer putting his finger softly against your lips shushing you up immediately.

He smirks pulling back his finger as he saw your silence. “Y/n I want to do this for you. It wasn’t even your fault what happened back there so let me repay you with that?”

You look at him with glistening eyes. They’re glistening because you cried so much and Jaemin liked staring at them. Your eyes were so big he could see his own reflection in them and you were so dreamy looking.

“Fine, but I don’t owe you anything.” You say with a mumble.

Jaemin smirks. “No but you might owe me a kiss?”

He saw your glare at him and he sighs. “Come on not even one? I protected you back there Y’know.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to protect me.” Jaemin chuckles. “No you didn’t you’re right, but that’s what a gentleman does.”

You wanted to throw a sarcastic comment but you’re so drained right now and Jaemin saw right through your disguise seeing how low on mood you are. He grabs your hand slowly comfortingly rubbing it with his thumb and he gave a kiss at the back of your hand.

“Cheer up. I’ll buy you a new dress, new necklace. You won’t have to worry.”

“Thanks… but you still won’t get that kiss.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow me for more on my pinned masterlist!

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years ago

Text

Darlings - ao3

Summary:

“Clarity would not work to fix Chifeng-zun,” Lan Wangji opined.

Nie Huaisang resisted the urge to kick him – Lan Wangji wouldn’t stick his foot in somewhere it wasn’t wanted if he didn’t actually have relevant information – but even Lan Qiren frowned at him.

“You seem remarkably certain about that, Wangji,” he said. “But why not? While it’s not appropriate for every circumstance, it’s an extremely powerful song. I would think that it would be at least worth an attempt.

”Lan Wangji looked distinctly shame-faced, though perhaps only someone who knew him very well would recognize that particular flavor of it.

“I see,” Lan Qiren said. “And what exactly has your brother done that he doesn’t want me to know about?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m bored,” Nie Huaisang complained, and his brother’s eye twitched. “And don’t say ‘go train’, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood,” his brother said, his voice harsher than it usually was. It was often too harsh these days; the version of his brother that Nie Huaisang liked best, teasing and thoughtful and amused despite himself, seemed to have gotten rarer and rarer in appearance. “That’s the problem.”

“Not the point,” Nie Huaisang said. “The point is more fundamental than that. The Unclean Realm is boring! All these years, we’ve kept to ourselves because of the war – limited visits to friends, only going to places that are safe, that sort of thing. But the war’s over, right? So I should be able to go visit whoever I want.”

His brother grunted. Still unamused, when normally Nie Huaisang’s nonsense arguments amused him more than anything else.

Annoyed, Nie Huaisang changed his original plan, which had been to wheedle out permission for a visit to the Lotus Pier to see poor Jiang Cheng who was all alone now that his sister had married off, and instead said, “I want to go visit Wei-xiong!”

“Absolutely not,” his brother said, unsurprisingly. “He’s an outlaw for a reason, Huaisang. He murdered those Jin sect cultivators without warning, didn’t he? Who’s to say he wouldn’t murder you, too?”

“All sorts of reasons,” Nie Huaisang argued back. “Listen, what if –”

“I said no,” his brother thundered, leaping to his feet and slamming his hands against the desk. “You will listen to me, Huaisang, and if you don’t –”

“Why are you always yelling?” Nie Huaisang shouted back, losing his own temper. He was a Nie as well, after all. “Why do you always take everything so seriously? I was just suggesting –”

“It was a stupid suggestion –”

“Even if it’s stupid, you don’t have to hit things –”

“You wouldn’t be so afraid of me hitting things if you’d actually train the way you’re supposed to –”

“I shouldn’t have to worry about it at all!” Nie Huaisang screamed. “You’re my da-ge! You’re not supposed to act like – like – like Father!”

His brother, who was about to yell back, stopped, stricken.

Equally stricken by what he’d just said, Nie Huaisang stared at him.

“It’s not like Father,” he said, because it couldn’t be. It wasn’t allowed to be. Nie sect leaders died young, yes, everyone knew that, even (especially) him no matter how much he pretended that he didn’t, but – but their father had been older than his brother was now, and he’d been fine right up until the time he’d been murdered. If it hadn’t been for Wen Ruohan, they would’ve had him for another decade or two, easy, and he was nearly as good a cultivator as Nie Mingjue was…though he hadn’t had to fight a war on that sort of scale, either. Nie Mingjue’s cultivation had gotten scarily good the past few years. “It’s – it’s not, right?”

His brother said nothing for a long moment.

Then, at last, he sighed and sat down heavily on his chair with a thump.

“We can go visit the Lan sect,” he said, which wasn’t what Nie Huaisang had wanted at all, but for some reason the thought of arguing any further tasted like ashes in Nie Huaisang’s mouth.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go visit the Lan sect.”

The one good thing about visiting the Lan sect, Nie Huaisang thought bitterly, and in fact the only good thing was Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen was nice and friendly and gentle, indulgent the way a big brother ought to be, always thinking first about Nie Huaisang’s comfort and happiness. He would buy him thoughtful gifts, he would take him out on outings to new parts of the mountain where there were beautiful views, he would sit and paint with him and listen to him very seriously even when he was talking nonsense. He would even avert his eyes if Nie Huaisang brought out one of his own books to read during study time, smiling and blushing a little in a very fetching fashion – Lan Xichen wasn’t the most desirable bachelor of the cultivation world for nothing, his face earned all its accolades fair and square in Nie Huaisang’s opinion – and they had long conversations that covered everything and anything.

Fewer these days, since Lan Xichen was busy with rebuilding and with Jin Guangyao, who apparently needed quite a lot of support even as he managed to talk his sect into providing the Lan sect with support of a more financial nature, but Nie Huaisang had been sure that a nice visit to the Lan sect with no politics behind it would give him the opportunity to finally have Lan Xichen all to himself again.

Except, of course, that Lan Xichen wasn’t there.

“Off to the Jin sect again,” Nie Mingjue grumbled acidly under his voice as they walked up to the center of the Lan sect from the gateway where they’d received the bad news from one of the door guards. “Big surprise.”

Nie Huaisang, in an equally bad mood, agreed wholeheartedly. It wasn’t like he’d come here for the food or anything…but now that they were here, there was nothing for it but to grit their teeth and bear it. They hadn’t sent word in advance of their arrival, like a bunch of barbarians, even though they really should have. But the decision to go had been very spontaneous and in all honesty Nie Huaisang had been a bit worried that his brother would change his mind if they didn’t follow through on the decision right away, so here they were, visiting the Lan sect, and it was on their own heads that the main attraction of the Lan sect was not there to greet them.

Instead, they were going to have to deal with…the rest of them.

Nie Huaisang tormented himself briefly by wondering if they’d be greeted by Lan Qiren, that terrifyingly stern and rule-abiding teacher that even Nie Mingjue was a bit afraid of, or if it would be that menace Lan Wangji, who everyone praised as the upstanding and noble Hanguang-jun, perfect in every way, but who when approached alone was definitely still that horrible little hellion Lan Zhan who when they were children used to bite Nie Huaisang any time he didn’t get his way.

The answer, it turned out, was both.

Actually, the answer turned out to be Lan Qiren loudly scolding Lan Wangji, who to untrained eyes looked obedient and submissive and to those in the know looked completely unrepentant.

Lan Qiren knew it no less than anyone else, of course, which was presumably why he was still scolding him quite so fiercely – so fiercely, in fact, that it was pretty obvious he hadn’t noticed any of the lingering Lan disciples who’d clearly come to give him the heads up that there were visitors. He was currently going hard on the subject of responsibility, whether to the sect and to the self, and not being impulsive, and also how going to dangerous places, especially without telling people first, was completely beyond the pale of impulsive, especially extremely dangerous places like –

“Hey, wait, that’s not fair!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, affronted. “Why does Lan Zhan get to go to visit the Burial Mounds and I don’t?!”

His brother glared at him even as both Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji twisted their heads to stare at their guests in surprise and unhappiness – Lan Qiren presumably because he’d been caught lecturing his perfect Lan Wangji in front of outsiders, and Lan Wangji presumably because Nie Huaisang had slipped up and called him Lan Zhan again, which he’d been banned from doing ever since Lan Wangji had turned ten and insufferable.

“He did not get to go,” Lan Qiren said, retreating into stiffness as he always did when he was embarrassed, but that just made the expression on Lan Wangji’s face change straight back into mulishness.

“There were no serious threats there,” he said flatly.

Lan Qiren promptly puffed up in rage again. “No serious threats – it’s the Burial Mounds! Even putting aside Wei-gongzi’s presence, the resentful energy in the air alone –”

“What do you mean there weren’t any serious threats?” Nie Mingjue demanded, overriding even his old teacher in a bout of rather uncharacteristic rudeness. “All the reports I’ve gotten is that Wei Wuxian has prepared the mountain as if for a siege, surrounding himself with arrays and corpses. Is that not true?”

Lan Wangji shook his head firmly.

That made even Lan Qiren started frowning. “Similar news had come to Xichen and myself,” he said. “The Jin sect said they sent several envoys seeking peace and were repulsed with violence, did they not? Wangji, are you saying you were able to go there with no difficulty?”

“That is correct, shufu. The greatest difficulty I encountered was Wei Ying forgetting to pay for lunch.”

“Good man,” Nie Huaisang said approvingly. “He always knew how to sponge a meal like the best of them. Did he manage to get you to pay for anyone else, too?”

Lan Wangji hesitated, which meant yes.

“One of the Wens?” Nie Huaisang’s brother asked, and his voice had dropped down to a forbidding register.

Lan Wangji straightened his back. “I will not apologize for associating with a child of two,” he said icily. “Regardless of his surname –”

“A child of two?!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, horrified, and even Nie Mingjue’s seeming ever-present anger broke for a moment, leaving him looking aghast. “In the Burial Mounds?!”

“Oh, woe is us,” Nie Huaisang said, delighted by this turn of events, which proved to be far more entertaining than what he thought was in store for him on a visit to the Cloud Recesses. “Clearly we’ll all have to go to see for ourselves, right? Right?”

When they got to the Burial Mounds, a lot of things happened in extremely rapid succession.

First, Nie Huaisang’s brother acted like even more of a beast than usual, getting irritated by the defensive arrays and deciding to just smash them open with his saber and march up the hill instead of listening to Lan Qiren’s perfectly reasonable suggestion of just knocking and seeing what would happen.

Second, the Wen sect’s camp on the Burial Mounds, and Wei Wuxian’s ‘fortress’, turned out to be a lot less fearsome than the rumors had advertised, with even the sign on the big cave that read ‘Demon-Slaughtering Cave’ being written in a jaunty and cheerful manner as if it were advertising a wine shop – and the sign was crooked, too. This was a matter of great displeasure to just about everyone, although Nie Huaisang suspected he was the only one disappointed in not finding anything more interesting rather than being upset about how they’d been misled about the dangers involved. Said dangers seemed to be limited to a bunch of elderly folk puttering about in a radish field, Wen Ning the Ghost General who would have probably been a lot scarier if he hadn’t consented to being buried in said radish field by the previously mentioned child of two and had gotten in so deep that he couldn’t easily wiggle out, and a shocked-looking Wei-Wuxian himself who looked as if he’d just been woken up out of an afternoon nap and who had come to yell at the intruders to go away.

Third, there had been an awful lot of yelling, mostly on the part of Wei Wuxian and, of course, Nie Mingjue, who was being awfully shouty even for him. Matters had very quickly deteriorated at that point no matter how much the Lans present (and Nie Huaisang) tried to calm the situation, with Nie Mingjue pulling out Baxia and Wei Wuxian responding by pulling out the Tiger Seal. It probably would have escalated still further – even Wen Ning had managed to crawl out of the dirt by this point, and he was hanging around ominously with white in his eyes – except that when Nie Mingjue stepped forward and lifted up his saber to actually strike his host, an overreaction of such massive extent that even Nie Huaisang couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it was actually happening, Wen Qing had come out of the cave, taken one look at what was going on, and shouted, “He’s having a qi deviation!”

Fourth, Nie Mingjue was definitely having a qi deviation.

Fifth, Nie Huaisang immediately had a panic attack in response to his brother showing symptoms of qi deviation, because qi deviations were what killed Nie sect leaders and Nie Huaisang remembered what they had done to his father in those horrible last few months of his life following his murder.

Sixth, Nie Mingjue’s concern over Nie Huaisang’s panic attack apparently managed to bring him back to himself enough that he apparently willed down the qi deviation, which, according to Wen Qing, was –

“Completely fucking impossible.”

“…Wen Qing, you just swore,” Wei Wuxian said, sounding dazed. “You never swear.”

“Oh, I swear all right,” she said, though her blush suggested she did not, in fact, make a habit of swearing even in the most extreme of circumstances. Not really a surprise, given that she’d been raised as a proper young lady. “At least I do when I encountered the utterly impossible. Advanced surgery that’s never been tried before? Risky, but within the realm of expectation. Reversing a qi deviation out of sheer brotherly worry? That’s just – just – it’s just weird!”

“Can we stop talking about how weird it is and focus on making my da-ge get better?!” Nie Huaisang demanded, clutching his brother’s sleeve. The second Nie Mingjue had put down Baxia and turned to focus on calming Nie Huaisang down, Wen Qing had gotten him in the back of the neck with four needles and he was now completely unconscious, which was probably for the best, really, but which was causing Nie Huaisang no end of distress.

“Nie Huaisang is correct,” Lan Qiren said crisply, and stepped forward towards Nie Mingjue, waving some sort of fancy array into existence that immediately got Wen Qing’s attention.

“That’s way more advanced than the usual diagnostic array,” she said, sounding affronted and also fascinated. “Wait – is that actually measuring the amount of spiritual energy in a given meridian? I thought everyone said that was impossible to track!”

“It’s a matter of resonance,” Lan Qiren said, with a slight melt to his usual frostiness towards all people surnamed Wen – quite justifiable in Nie Huaisang’s mind, given what had happened to the Cloud Recesses. Even Nie Huaisang, who considered himself an amiable and forgiving sort of person, wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the people who helped Wen Ruohan kill his father and, later, lots of his friends and also very nearly his brother. “A number of my sect members specialize in the medical arts, and they invented it while serving as battlefield medics. It’s not actually tracking the spiritual energy directly, which is in fact impossible, but rather tracking the effect of the movement of spiritual energy as it reacts.”

“Reacts to what? Oh, wait, is that what that low droning sound is for? I thought it was a side effect of putting in too much spiritual energy, as it is with most arrays. But instead you’ve actually harnessed the excess sound using your musical cultivation –”

“Can! We! Focus! On! Fixing! My! Da-ge?!” Nie Huaisang interjected. Loudly.

That got them to shut up and focus for a while. Lan Qiren had been the general leading the Lan sect’s forces and managing the back end for most of the war, so he had a lot of personal experience in playing battlefield medic, and Wen Qing herself had of course been well known for her medical skill even before everything had gone down, so the two of them put their heads together over Nie Mingjue and started up a very technical conversation that no one else understood.

In the meantime, the rest of them – Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Wen Ning – just looked at each other.

“Wei-gongzi, are we just going to stand here while they work?” Wen Ning asked Wei Wuxian in an undertone, ignoring (or maybe not understanding) the suddenly hostile tilt of Lan Wangji’s eyebrows.

“Yes we are,” Nie Huaisang said loudly, then glared at Wen Ning. “Anyway, aren’t you her brother? Don’t you know anything about medicine yourself?”

Wen Ning looked taken aback. “Uh,” he said. “Not – not that much? I was only ever her assistant –”

“Then what are you waiting for?!” Nie Huaisang demanded, and jabbed a finger towards where they were working. “Go assist!”

Wen Ning tried to look at Wei Wuxian for permission, but Nie Huaisang hissed at him until he picked up his heels and trotted guiltily over to inquire if there was anything he could do, then promptly got recruited to run errands – which showed he clearly had been needed, and therefore should have been there doing that in the first place.

“Hey, Nie-xiong, have you ever seen those animal traders that come from the far south?” Wei Wuxian asked. “The ones that sometimes have those long ferret-badgers, you know the ones, they always hiss at large creatures and they can fight snakes –”

“…the mongoose?”

“Yeah, the mongoose!” Wei Wuxian nodded, then grinned toothily at him. “Has anyone ever told you, Nie-xiong, that you sometimes resemble a mongoose?”

“This is definitely the first time, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “Definitely the first time.”

“Maybe that should be your nickname! You’re the only one who doesn’t have one, right? I’m the Yiling Patriarch, Lan Zhan here’s Hanguang-jun – you can be the Stubborn Mongoose!”

Lan Wangji’s eye twitched. Why he was getting irritated over Nie Huaisang getting a stupid nickname, Nie Huaisang had no idea, since he was pretty sure Lan Wangji didn’t want to be called ‘Stubborn Mongoose’ himself when he already had a perfectly good title.

Maybe he was just jealous of Nie Huaisang getting Wei Wuxian’s attention. Well, if so, Nie Huaisang was more than willing to throw it right back onto him.

“No thanks, Wei-xiong,” he said, and smiled (somewhat toothily) right back at him. “I’ve had a dislike for animal-related nicknames ever since I was a child – you see, I went over to visit the Lan sect a few times and their precious ‘little Rabbit Bun’ bit me.”

He tilted his head pointedly in Lan Wangji’s direction.

Lan Wangji gave Nie Huaisang a death glare.

Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, looked as if his entire life had been improved by at least six degrees. “Lan Zhan?” he gasped. “Your childhood nickname was Little Rabbit Bun? That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard! You must have been so cute!”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, his ears going red, and then glanced back at Nie Huaisang, who gave him a smug You owe me expression before saying, very virtuously, “Wei-xiong, don’t be silly. Wouldn’t you agree that our Hanguang-jun is still very cute?”

“No, he’s not cute, he’s handsome!” Wei Wuxian objected. “You can’t be ‘cute’ when you’re as dashing and bold as Lan Zhan is –”

“Being handsome doesn’t mean you can’t be cute at the same time! Haven’t you seen him when he’s smiling?”

Wei Wuxian looked stricken. “He smiles? You’ve seen him smile, Nie-xiong? Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, that’s not fair! You have to smile for me, I have to see it – you can’t smile at Nie Huaisang and not at me, okay, that’s just wrong, I’m the one who wanted to be your friend –”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth at Lan Wangji – see I’m still better at managing people than you! – and Lan Wangji gave him a half-hearted glare back, too distracted by the way Wei Wuxian was tugging at his sleeve to really put any real heat into it. Or maybe he really did like Wei Wuxian bugging him all the time, who knew?

(Actually, the last time Nie Huaisang had seen Lan Wangji smile, they’d both been at least a decade younger, but he wasn’t about to let facts get in the way of a good taunt.)

The entire thing probably would have continued in that vein for a while, only then Lan Qiren and Wen Qing suddenly got up and that got Nie Huaisang’s attention entirely; he promptly forgot about what the two idiots he was waiting alongside were doing and rushed over.

“Is he all right?” he asked anxiously. “Can you make him better?”

“It will be difficult,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Qing nodded.

“His meridians are in a bad state,” she said. “His situation was severely aggravated on account of the sheer amount of resentful energy in the Burial Mounds, and then driven into complete crisis when Wei-gongzi unveiled the Tiger Seal, but he was already doing quite poorly. You must have noticed his temper getting worse, less patience, more irrationality…”

Nie Huaisang didn’t want to hear about that. “We’re surnamed Nie, that’s not too weird,” he said shortly. “Anyway, can you fix it?”

“We’ve stabilized him for now,” Lan Qiren said. “There’s no immediate danger.”

Nie Huaisang exhaled. That was – not ideal, but still something. Better something than nothing.

“There are a number of techniques that can be applied to try to correct the deviation,” Wen Qing said. “Including surgery to straight his meridians out again, which I can do. But that’s a one-time fix, and he’s in a state of deterioration; even if I fixed him up, he’d only continue to spiral again, and all the fixes for that take a lot more time and effort and continuous supervision. If it were just me, I’d say there wasn’t anything we could do short of cutting off his access to his golden core for a while – and that’s incredibly dangerous in its own right – but Teacher Lan here says that the Lan sect has some extremely powerful music spells that might be able to do something.”

Lan Qiren nodded. “There is one in particular,” he said. “The Song of Clarity –”

“Clarity would not work to fix Chifeng-zun,” Lan Wangji opined.

Lan Wangji looked distinctly shame-faced, though perhaps only someone who knew him very well would recognize that particular flavor of it.

“I see,” Lan Qiren said, visibly resisting the urge to sigh and offer Lan Wangji a conciliatory candy the way he had when Lan Wangji had been young enough to still think that all problems could be fixed by biting. Possibly it was just Nie Huaisang that recognized that very particular expression, having seen it the most often out of all available non-Lan sect members – he’d been Lan Wangji’s favorite target, after all. “And what exactly has your brother done that he doesn’t want me to know about?”

“How did he know?” Wei Wuxian whispered to Wen Ning in an undertone barely louder than a breath, though not quite enough to escape being overheard by Nie Huaisang, who standing right next to them. “Did Lan Zhan even change expressions just now? Is there some secret sign language involved?”

Clearly Nie Huaisang needed to give Wei Wuxian a crash course in ‘understanding Lan Wangji body language’, Nie Huaisang decided – beneficently, of course. It definitely wasn’t so that Wei Wuxian could more effectively annoy Lan Wangji to death, no, absolutely not.

(Anyway, Lan Wangji seemed like he enjoyed being annoyed to death by Wei Wuxian, so maybe it really was beneficent after all.)

Facing all of their gazes, Lan Wangji squared his shoulders. “Xiongzhang has been concerned regarding Chifeng-zun’s health,” he said. “Particularly in regard to his family’s tendency towards qi deviations, which xiongzhang fears may be aggravated by Chifeng-zun’s powerful cultivation and the ravages of war. He has been playing him Clarity as a course of treatment.”

“As a course of treatment?” Lan Qiren asked, looking startled, and – oops. Had Lan Xichen not told his uncle about what he was doing? Sneaky sneaky! Yet more proof that Lan Xichen was obviously the finest and most superior of all Lans. “Impossible. A few times at full strength, perhaps…”

Lan Wangji was shaking his head in denial.

“It’s impossible,” Lan Qiren insisted. “As an actual course of treatment, he would need to play for him at least once every fortnight – every week, if possible. Xichen is sect leader now. He simply doesn’t have the time or the freedom to depart from the Cloud Recesses on such a regular basis.”

“Brother said a course of treatment,” Lan Wangj insisted back, stubborn as a mule.

“I would have noticed if your brother were slipping away every half-month, Wangji!”

“Anyway, it’s impossible for another reason,” Wen Qing put in. “If Chifeng-zun were getting regular treatment to help clear his meridians, we would have noticed that when we examined him in depth just now, and he definitely hasn’t been.”

“No, that’s wrong,” Nie Huaisang said, and now they were all looking at him, great. “I mean, he is getting regular treatment, and has been for the last few months. And, uh, sorry, Teacher Lan, it is the Song of Clarity. Only it’s not er-ge playing it for him – as you said, he’s way too busy to come to the Unclean Realm as often as that – but rather san-ge who’s doing the playing. Er-ge taught him how to do it…”

Judging by the color that Lan Qiren’s face just turned, Lan Xichen probably shouldn’t have done that, either. Nie Huaisang mentally apologized to Lan Xichen for the horrible scolding he was going to get when Lan Qiren got ahold of him again, but he figured Lan Xichen would forgive him – it was for Nie Mingjue’s health, after all! The people treating him had to know everything, after all, or else they wouldn’t be able to take proper care of him.

“Well, that’s still bizarre,” Wen Qing said. “Either your sect’s song-spell isn’t nearly as powerful as you think it is, Teacher Lan, which seems unlikely, or else whatever-his-name is playing it completely wrong. Judging from the evidence, Chifeng-zun’s state has deteriorated the past few months, not improved.”

She frowned.

“Actually, now that I think about it…” she said, trailing off, and turned to poke at the diagnostic array still hovering over Nie Mingjue’s body. “Teacher Lan, look here, at the lower levels – think of it as a way of mapping the evidence of what happened over time, the way stone does when it’s being worn away, like by a riverbed. His spiritual veins are strong, and then the deterioration is very slow, then faster but still not fast, and then, here, it suddenly starts going very fast all at once…”

“A few months ago,” Lan Qiren said, studying the array. “Yes, you’re right, that’s when the severe downturn began.”

“Hey, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said, sounding artificially light-hearted – extremely artificial, actually, and maybe Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have noticed except that he’d said the exact same words earlier when he was actually being light-hearted and the contrast between the two couldn’t be clearer. “When did you say Lianfang-zun started playing the Song of Clarity for your brother?”

“A few months ago…no, no, you’ve got it all wrong!” Nie Huaisang said quickly, realizing what Wei Wuxian was implying. “San-ge has been playing it for him for over half a year! He was getting better!”

Lan Wangji cleared his throat.

They all look at him.

“There is the matter of the Jin sect,” he said. “And their proposal regarding the position of Chief Cultivator.”

“Chief Cultivator?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking amused. “What’s that? How can there be a chief? We’re all different sects, aren’t we…? Well, excluding rogue cultivators like me, I guess.”

“That is how it has always been, yes,” Lan Qiren said. “However, in the interest of preventing another Wen sect and another Sunshot Campaign, the Jin sect has proposed creating a position of Chief Cultivator, which would act as an arbiter for the cultivation world – solving problems, settling disputes, that sort of thing.”

“My brother thinks the idea’s complete trash,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “He says that we didn’t go to all that trouble to make sure Wen Ruohan couldn’t make himself the lord over all of us using his armies just to let Ji– uh, to let Sect Leader Jin do it using his money.”

“Has he said this publicly?” Wei Qing asked, and Nie Huaisang gave her a strange look for a moment.

Then it occurred to him that she probably didn’t know his brother that well, or even his reputation, so he clarified, “Yes, of course. My brother isn’t the sort of person who says one thing in private and another in public. He’s very straightforward.”

“That’s not what I was getting at,” she said. “It was more…when did he say it in public? I don’t suppose – a few months ago?”

“Well, yes, it was – I mean –” Nie Huaisang hesitated.

“I get what you’re saying,” Wei Wuxian said, and his face was hard, back in the lines that had been cut into it during the Sunshot Campaign. “Nie-xiong, would you say that that whole argument happened right around – or maybe right before – the time your da-ge stopped getting better whenever your san-ge came to play for him, and started getting worse much faster?”

“Lianfang-zun,” Wen Ning murmured. “Jin Guangyao.”

“But – but – they’re sworn brothers!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “He wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t he?” Lan Qiren asked. He looked older, suddenly, and tired. “Are you sure?”

Nie Huaisang wanted to say yes, he really did, he really really did –

But he couldn’t.

“You know, when I said I was bored and that the Unclean Realm was boring, I really was trying to use it as an excuse to go somewhere else,” Nie Huaisang said. “Ideally the Lotus Pier, which has both good food and good shopping and Jiang Cheng, who is pretty funny sometimes – usually not on purpose – but I was willing to settle for the Cloud Recesses because then I’d get to see er-ge. But either way, I hadn’t intended for the end result to be to liven up the Unclean Realm. Or at least, you know, not quite so much, you know?”

“You’re getting exactly what you deserve, you noxious little brat,” his brother said. He was still lying in bed, although he had a desk on his lap that contained all his work. He looked a lot better now that he’d had the immediate intervention surgery Wen Qing had done to straight his meridians out and after both Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji had played him the Song of Clarity – the real Song of Clarity, not whatever messed up version Jin Guangyao must have been using on him – a half-dozen times over the course of as many days. He was even smiling again. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t enjoying it.”

Nie Huaisang was loving it. His home had never been so rowdy, not for as long as he could remember it, and it was already a pretty rowdy place to begin with – but anything got more rowdy when you threw in Wen Qing, who was there to supervise the aftereffects of the surgery, Wen Ning, who was there to assist her, Wei Wuxian, who was there to watch over the still-somewhat-unstable Wen Ning, the rest of the remaining Wen sect, who couldn’t be left on their own and undefended, and of course also Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji in all their grumpy majesty.

And it was going to stay that way.

Well, Lan Qiren, at least, was planning on returning back to the Cloud Recesses, since they were very firmly in the process of rebuilding and he was concerned that Lan Xichen couldn’t do the rest of the work without him, but Lan Wangji was being assigned to the Unclean Realm on a semi-permanent basis since both Wen Qing and Lan Qiren had agreed that Nie Mingjue needed to continue with a daily regimen of Clarity for at least a month, then shift over to three times a week, then two, then weekly, and eventually twice-monthly and monthly before finally, hopefully, tapering off for good. Lan Qiren planned to come back to visit on a regular basis to supervise the musical aspects, and Wen Qing wanted to remain on hand in the event of another crisis – and to study the medical implications of musical cultivation, which was apparently an area she’d completely neglected in her previous studies on account of the Wen sect not teaching much in the way of music.

And if Wen Qing was staying, then obviously Wei Wuxian was going to have to stay as well, a fact that very obviously delighted Lan Wangji to no end. The two of them were completely unbearable when together in a way that made Nie Huaisang pretend to gag and Lan Qiren start heaving long sighs and grumbling about not wanting to deal with matchmakers – which Nie Huaisang hadn’t gotten at first until he suddenly did, at which point he started pretend-gagging even more, just for the principle of the thing.

Possibly Nie Huaisang was also occasionally going and dropping a lit torch into a fire-starting array any time they were showing signs of getting boring, like how just that morning he’d oh-so-casually reminded Wei Wuxian that Lan Wangji used to like to bite people and how everyone used to say it was the way he showed affection, knowing that it would make the ever-competitive (though not as competitive as Jiang Cheng) Wei Wuxian start bugging Lan Wangji about whether or not he would have bitten him –

Nie Huaisang had hope that all that teasing would eventually make it through Lan Wangji’s otherwise impenetrable Lan sect reserve and he’d finally just drag Wei Wuxian into a bedroom and give him the biting he was asking for, but only time would tell.

“I admit to nothing,” Nie Huaisang said righteously, and hopped into the bed to curl up next to Nie Mingjue like he hadn’t since he was much younger. “You like it too. Don’t you?”

“I don’t like the political headache that comes with it,” Nie Mingjue pretended to grumble. “Not to mention that we’re now suffering an undoubtedly permanent infestation of those surnamed Wen – ugh.”

That complaint was probably genuine, Nie Huaisang reflected, since his brother had had to suffer the original Wen sect a lot more than Nie Huaisang ever had, but saving Nie Mingjue’s life meant they owed Wen Qing a life-debt. To pay it off, his brother, good and righteous person that he was, had officially buried his sect’s blood feud with hers, making them equal again, and now they had no grounds to be pissy with them or kick them out. The rest of the Nie sect loved their sect leader enough to begrudgingly forgive them as well, at least provisionally, but provisionally went an awful long way with the Nie sect. Unlike the Lan sect, they didn’t have a rule against bearing grudges, though they did it very well, thank you. It was just that they didn’t have the temperaments to do it more than once or twice in a lifetime, and the rest of the time they tended to forget about their wrongs pretty quickly and move on towards making friends.

All that, of course, meant that the Wen sect now had two places in the cultivation world that they could live – the rest of the cultivation world wasn’t exactly as incentivized to forgive them, obviously – and since the Burial Mounds were in fact pretty terrible, it was no surprise that they were much happier in the Unclean Realm.

“You can distract yourself by watching the Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian circus, like I do,” Nie Huaisang comforted his brother. “It’s really funny. And soon we’ll be able to host a wedding, won’t that be fun? And it won’t even have to be one for either you or me!”

“…that does sound fun,” Nie Mingjue allowed. “Everyone would enjoy that, and it’d be good for commerce, all the things you’d need for that – the Lan sect is still mostly investing in rebuilding, but I can’t imagine they’d allow their Second Jade to be married in anything less than the best.”

“I’ll paint them a nice couple set of fans as a wedding gift,” Nie Huaisang decided. “And you can make them a pair of supplemental spiritual weapons to match – you haven’t done that in ages, da-ge, and it used to be the thing you loved the most.”

Nie Mingjue looked seriously tempted, or at least he did to someone who knew him as well as Nie Huaisang did. His brother wasn’t actually an ascetic, the way Jin Guangyao had once or twice joked in a not-quite-joking tone he was; he just had different vices and hobbies than most men. No wine, women, or song for Nie Huaisang’s quixotic big brother, no – he liked steel, and forging, and sometimes dancing when he thought he could get away with it without losing face. Also those stupid overly complicated puzzles that Nie Huaisang needed to hunt up more of for him.

“I don’t know,” Nie Mingjue said, still hesitating. “My health –”

“I’ll get you cleared by Wen Qing,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “I’m sure she’ll say it’s good for you to engage in your hobbies more often, since you’ve been so bored without training Baxia so often.”

“I need to start doing that, too.”

“Ah, but you can only do that under supervision of doctors, and only in limited quantities until your qi improves. You need to fill your day with something that isn’t work, da-ge – doctor’s orders!”

Lan Qiren’s orders, to be more accurate. He’d been shoved into the role of sect leader, too, though he’d been older than Nie Mingjue was when it’d happened; he was now rigid to the point of unyielding on insisting that Nie Mingjue not allow himself to be swallowed up by it any more than he already had.

Anyway, his brother had already been very pointedly avoiding anything to do with sect business outside the sect, and in specific in relation to the Jin sect, and Jin Guangyao, which Nie Huaisang fully understood and supported. His brother might be tough on the outside, but he had a soft heart, and Jin Guangyao’s actions had broken it – it was better for Nie Mingjue’s health that he not think about it, at least for now.

Nie Huaisang had instead taken responsibility for external affairs into his own hands for the time being.

He wasn’t necessarily very good at it, he wasn’t good at much, but he was extremely capable of being very annoying and given the Nie sect’s current ascendant position in the cultivation world, that was all he needed to be to keep the Jin sect so busy guessing what he was up to that they’d (hopefully) be too busy to scheme any more.

And if Nie Huaisang had a scheme or two he was planning on trying back on them…well, that was his own business, right? Even if it failed, no one would be too surprised, he was just the stupid and useless second young master of Qinghe, after all.

No one broke his brother’s heart and got away with it. No one!

(Also, being in charge of external affairs meant that Nie Huaisang got to spend quite a bit of time sequestered with Lan Xichen, nominally ‘discussing sect business’, and it was great. They barely did any work at all!)

“All right, all right,” Nie Mingjue said. “You win, as you always do. Don’t you have anything better to do than attach yourself to me like some sort of parasite?”

“Nope! Cleared my entire morning just for this.” Nie Huaisang burrowed in more. “I’m going to steal all your heat away, da-ge, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Huaisang…”

“And later,” Nie Huaisang interrupted, marching all over his brother’s half-hearted protest, “you’re going to tell all the things you haven’t been telling me about our family’s cultivation style, and the saber tombs, and all of that.” His brother went very still. “You’re going to tell me, and then we’re going to figure out what we’re going to do about it together. All right?”

He waited to hear his brother’s response.

Instead, he felt the light touch of his brother’s palm on his hair.

“All right, Huaisang,” his brother said. “That sounds good. I’ll listen to you.”

“As you should,” Nie Huaisang said. “As you always should!”

“I’m not buying you any more fans, and you still need to train your saber.”

“Awww, but da-ge…!”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan qiren #lan wangji #wen ning #wen qing #wei wuxian #my fic #this is an old one from the vaults #I THINK I never got around to posting it #if it's actually a duplicate let me know #my fics

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translatemunson · 4 months ago

Note

Effie! I’ve been thinking… Since I know you love Taylor Swift and if you have requests open, can I request Brains and Buck + …Ready For It? 😊😆

casey! omg my first the tortured firefighters department request (and also my first writing request on tumblr!). i took a few days to elaborate this idea, and i really hope you like it!

touch me and you'll never be alone • ttfd

a blurb from the universe of the tortured firefighters department

| check the masterlist |

cw: i fear you might need to read chapter six of the series so you can better understand what's happening here, pov changes, fem!reader, afab!reader, no descriptions of reader, two oblivious idiots, mentions of drinking, mentions of going on a date, feelings talk, not proofread (lmk if i forgot something)

One day, Buck would come home and finally have the guts to ask Brains out. For a firefighter, it was odd to see him afraid of doing something. Rescuing people in tall buildings, walking through fire to make sure everyone was out of danger, putting himself in any danger just to get people safe and sound. But he insisted on tiptoeing around the girl he had a crush on.

He very briefly mentioned it to Maddie, and it was enough to have his big sister telling him he should go for it. Even though he didn’t mention Brains when he brought the subject up, she said that if he really felt something, he should risk it. Maddie believed the feelings were mutual — or maybe she knew something he didn’t.

Anyway, it was almost three weeks ago, just a few days shy from when Buck helped Brains during a crisis. His courage to ask her out was shying away, and he didn’t think a good opportunity would come up soon.

Buck inserted the key on his door and took one glance at Brain’s apartment. Her door unlocked and he held his breath. She ditched her usual clothes, and was wearing the same green dress she wore to that dinner at Maddie and Chim’s.

“Hey, Buck!” She waved. “Leaving for a shift?”

“Coming home, actually. Going somewhere, Brains?”

“Yeah, I’m,” she fixed her dress, “going on a date.”

Buck had to hold his reaction quickly, blurting a “He must be a catch if you’re switching your books for him.”

“We can talk about my books, so I think it’s a win-win situation,” she said, putting her keys inside her purse and walking to the elevator. “See ya, Buck. Have a nice rest.”

“Have fun, Brains!” He almost ran to get inside his apartment.

Fuck. He missed his chance.

+++

You dropped down on one of the beach chairs someone left on the rooftop — and never came back to retrieve them. You should’ve gone straight to bed, but you needed a moment alone, without the books and ghosts.

Stephen was a nice study buddy and the time would fly when you were sharing a table and notes in the library. You couldn’t say the same about the two hours you’ve spent together with him. Not that he wasn’t a nice company or only talked about statistics during the date, actually he was a pretty good storyteller and very polite. He just didn’t bring a spark in you during the date.

What actually really happened was that you couldn’t stop thinking about someone else. You sat down for two hours and had to force yourself to look at Stephen and imagine him as someone you would spend more than just study sessions together. And you couldn’t do it. Stephen’s face would never be the one on the dozens of scenarios that crossed your mind. Someone else had already claimed that spot.

“Date went well?”

Buck plopped down on the chair next to yours. He wore his lounger clothes, and you were surprised he wasn’t deep asleep by now.

“Wouldn’t say I’ll be going for a second one,” you admit, the taste of wine getting a little bitter in your tongue. “But it’s fine, tho, I wasn’t expecting much.”

“Do you need me, Chim and Eddie to give the guy a lesson?”

“Not necessary, but thanks for the offer.”

“So, do we know him?” You looked at him, pushing yourself to believe he was asking you about it. “Or her. I don’t judge,” he added, once your silence became too much.

“No, he’s someone from my classes. It’s just, yeah, no, nice classmate, I’ll give him that. But I felt nothing during the date. Not even that small pinch to jump head first, damn the consequences,” you explained.

“You’re really an adrenaline junkie,” he made fun of one of the very first things you talked about, months ago now. “No, but I think it’s fair because if there’s no spark, why commit at all?”

“Right? I mean, some relationships take the slow burn road, just like the books and movies, you know, but I only believe in that if the people involved have known each other for like months. Or maybe years. There’s a true bond in like being a friend first, lover second.”

“And you did that for your relationships? Because I didn’t.”

“Maybe the guy I dated after highschool, because we were friends, but after that I didn’t had much time to have a slow burn.” You played with the hem of your dress, pushing it further to protect your legs from the night breeze. “And also that brief relationship with Alex was a nightmare.”

“Oh yeah, Alex,” Buck laughed, the memory still fresh. “So maybe you’re not ready for a relationship right now?”

“No, I,” you measured your words, “I think I have someone else in mind, but it’s not like… nevermind, the wine is making me think too much about stupid things.”

“What do you mean by stupid things?”

“My feelings, I guess.” You kept shoving everything aside, trying to focus on your main goals. It wasn’t a crime to have you mind wandering a never taken road, but it was tough. “Sorry, I think it’s past my bedtime.”

That was a stupid excuse, and you both knew that. Buck gave you a puzzled look. Oh no, you were reaching a dangerous zone. As soon as you anchored your arms to get up from the seat, he reached out and stopped you. You were caught in the headlights — and the stupid siren lights down the street.

“I once had this idea that I’d have to be ready for a relationship, so I thought avoiding real connections was a solution.” He referenced his own addition, something he happily left behind. “But for the months I’ve known you, Brains, I can definitely tell you’re gonna find the relationship you’re looking for when you least expect it. Or maybe you already found it. Anyway, your feelings are not stupid, and I hope you understand it.”

“Thanks, Buck.” You smiled. He let go of your arms and you finally got up. “You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. And I know we were talking about me, but I hope you found someone who will love you as much as you deserve it. I’ll see you later, ok? Right now I really need to sleep.”

You squeezed his shoulder and left the rooftop, taking the stairs as fast as possible and locking yourself in your apartment. Your feelings creeping under your skin, making you feel like you were gonna be tortured by them for longer than you expected.

#evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #9 1 1 abc #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buck buckely #buck fanfiction #evan buckley imagine #effie writes #evan buckley blurb #evan buck buckley

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Lavender - Ch. 18

A night out at the speakeasy leads to an unexpected connection. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-17 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (broken up), Tommy Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT :D unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up!) and Tommy being an absolute flirt. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only!

Length: 4.8 k

Saturday, May 15, 2010 - Six Months Later

“I need more than a drink,” Lucy put her head on the front desk of the clinic with a groan. “I need at least 2. Probably five.”

“I think they have that,” Andrew said, smiling a little. “Pretty much the whole draw.”

“That one guy was such a dick,” she propped her chin on her fist. “Why did I decide to become a nurse again? Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Because you made career choices before the world ended and then stuck it out?” You said, sitting on top of the desk behind the counter.

“Yeah being a nurse wasn’t exactly a walk in the park then, either,” she grumbled. “This is my problem, I’m basically an addict, I get one REALLY GOOD patient and then I act like that fixes alllllll the assholes…”

“Sounds like dating men,” Marta joined your little group from the exam area. “Lee is finishing up with the final patient and then we’re free. We’re so close, guys. So close I can taste it.” Marta glanced over at you and groaned. “Aw, Doc, you got changed? You look all cute and shit? That’s not fair!”

“Hey,” you replied. “I have nowhere else to wear the cute dress. You have dates. I have speakeasy night with my coworkers, just give me this.”

“You could have dates too, if you wanted,” Jess was perched on the other side of the horseshoe shaped desk, Andrew squarely between you in his office chair. Her feet were in his lap. “All you’d have to do is just say yes to one of the guys who talks to you or actually ask someone out.”

“Yes but why should I when I have you lovely people, all our patients and Petri dishes in the lab to keep me company?” You smiled. Andrew and Jess shared a brief look. You tried to not roll your eyes. Mostly because they’d given you a lot of leeway in the past almost year since you and Joel had split up. Especially when you got back from your trip outside the QZ.

You hadn’t even bothered to go home that night. You walked straight to Andrew and Jess’ place, knocking on the door and trying to not cry until you were inside. Andrew was the one to answer and you fell into him, burying your face in his chest as it felt like you were cracking open with the pain of it.

“You were right,” you choked out as he pulled you inside. “About what he did out there, you were right…”

“Oh, honey,” he wrapped his arms around you the best he could with the backpack in the way, kissing the top of your head before tucking you below his chin. “I’m so sorry. I wish I was wrong. I really do.”

You slept there that night, Andrew sandwiched between you and Jess, other people and the safety that came with them the only thing that let you rest.

You’d managed to avoid Joel since you’d returned. It had been half a year since you last saw him that night at the QZ fence. There were signs of him, though. He was usually on your mind somehow, not that you were happy about it.

A few weeks after the trip, you passed Tess on your way to look for a few more books and CDs at the underground sellers’ shops. She didn’t notice you but you noticed her. It looked like she’d gotten into a fight, she had a black eye and gash at her throat. You frowned.

“Tess?” You changed direction to follow her. “Tess!”

She turned and looked surprised that you’d talk to her for a moment before meeting you in the middle.

“Doc,” she looked you up and down. She had a tendency to do that, you noticed. She liked to evaluate things. Like she thought you might have changed since she last saw you. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” you smiled. “Look, I’m happy I ran into you, I’ve been thinking…” You glanced around and tugged her off to the side of the road. “You and Tommy and… everyone, you’re still making runs, right?”

“Not taking you out there again,” she shook her head. “Joel was pretty firm on that…”

“No, that’s fine,” you waved her off. “I just… You know that saying ‘an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure?’”

“Sure,” she shrugged.

“Well there’s only so much I can do for you if you guys come back already hurt, down a lot of blood, all that jazz,” you said. “But if I gave you some basic trauma supplies, showed you how to use them…”

“You’d do that,” she said it more than asked it.

“Of course,” you frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” She didn’t say anything else, so you just pressed on. “Could you plan to come by my apartment sometime this week, late? I can put together some kits, show you what to do for common injuries…”

“Wednesday?” She asked.

“After 10:30,” you said. “Should give me time to get home from the clinic.” You were surprised to learn that you actually kind of liked Tess. She showed up to your apartment not long after you did. Wednesday had been a rough one and your shirt was still bloody, deciding to prioritize getting the blood out of your hairline instead of changing your clothes.

“Doc,” she said by way of greeting, her eyes drifting to the blood on your shirt and back up to your face, strand of bloody hair still in your fingers.

“Sorry,” you said, giving an apologetic smile. “Had to do a field amputation today without anesthesia, it was a mess… I’m making tea, want a cup?”

“I’ll take tea,” she said, coming in and sitting at the table. You got your still bloody hair out of the way and quickly pulled the shirt off before grabbing a t-shirt out of the drawer and pulling it on.

“Sorry,” you smiled apologetically again. “I just really needed to get at least some of that blood off me…”

You put the tea on the table and grabbed the kit you put together, giving Tess a crash course in trauma stabilization 101.

“So were you a military doctor when this shit started?” She asked after you packed the supplies back up.

“Oh God no,” you laughed. “No, I was a biology teacher. I was finishing up a pre-med degree though, and I’d always wanted to be a doctor so I was just reading everything I could find to get a jump on med school. I got here, they were setting up medical facilities with all of one doctor so he trained me.”

“And how’d you meet Joel?” She was sitting back in he chair, watching you. His name made your stomach clench.

“You could ask him,” you said, looking at the almost empty tea cup.

She scoffed.

“You are an off limits topic,” she said. “For both Miller men, as it happens. Joel doesn’t answer, Tommy says it’s not his shit to say. Joel got back from the trip with you, said nothing for three days and then pretended that nothing happened.”

You nodded slowly.

“And you don’t like not knowing,” you said. She smiled.

“Exactly.”

You signed, fidgeting with the mug.

“I met Joel in 1999,” you said. Her eyes went wide. “It’s why they called me Kid, I was just 20 back then, still in college.”

“Jesus, you were a kid. He still a grumpy asshole then?” She laughed. You laughed back.

“Very rarely,” you said. “Punched Tommy in the face at a bar once because Joel was being an asshole and Tommy called him on it. Though I made him watch ‘When Harry Met Sally’ and he actually liked it. Tried so hard not to laugh at the fake orgasm scene he choked on his beer.”

She laughed at that. She told you about some of her life before, too. Spending summer on a lake with her husband and son, a mishap when renovating their basement that left a giant splotch of paint over the new linoleum that they’d never been able to properly clean up. You got both of you beer.

“I was never sure who the outbreak was worse for,” she said. “People like me who had a life going that got ripped away or people like you who never really had a fucking chance at one.”

“We all got screwed,” you said. “Sometimes I think we all died back then, everyone who’s left is just a ghost of what they would have been otherwise.”

“And you still wear ribbons on your braids,” she nodded to your hair. You glanced down, the blue ribbon splotched purple where the blood had splattered it. You smiled a little.

“There are very few things that make life worth it anymore,” you said after a moment. “And life is too short to not wear the damn ribbons.”

You knew they were using the trauma kit supplies. Tess would show up every six weeks or so, asking for a resupply. She’d even asked for a new euthanasia kit once. You almost had a panic attack before she had the chance to tell you that it wasn’t Joel or Tommy, just a traveler they’d run into who couldn’t bring themselves to turn their gun on themselves. But you hadn’t needed to come pull a bullet out of any of them again, so you were counting their trips as a success.

“Alright kids,” Lee came out from the exam area, lab coat still on. “We are all set, they’re getting dressed and then we are out of here!”

“I’m going for the jukebox as soon as we get there,” Marta said. “No one try to stop me!”

“Oh God,” Andrew groaned. “You’re going to make us listen to the Backstreet Boys all night aren’t you?”

��Think they’re still alive out there?” She asked. “Just performing for some QZ on the west coast?”

“Imagine if they’re infected,” Jess said. “You’re just walking down the street and then bam, attacked by a Backstreet Boy…”

“This,” Andrew looked up at her. “This is why I love you.”

Walking to the Speakeasy with everyone reminded you a little of college. It helped that you were wearing a sundress like you’d worn so much in Texas. It helped that the weather was warm and the sky was clear. Mostly, it helped that there were people laughing. You weren’t sure if your memory was just selective but it seemed like people just didn’t laugh anymore.

There were some tables in the corner of the speakeasy that were open and you pushed them together, sitting down with your back against one of the walls. It just felt better that way.

“Beer?” Andrew looked to Jess. She nodded and he turned to you. “Beer?”

“I’m thinking a 1996 left bank Bordeaux, something with some good body to it,” you said, thinking.

“Yeah, so beer?” He smiled.

“Yes please,” you smiled back.

“I only put on two songs,” Marta sat beside you. “So, Andrew, Mr. ‘If it’s not rock and roll it’s not music,’ will only have to suffer for so long.”

“And if only we could get him to suffer in silence,” Jess mused.

You laughed and Andrew brought beer and you sat drinking with your friends, forgetting for a minute that it was the end of the world.

“Doc?”

You turned to see a slightly familiar face. You frowned for a moment, trying to place him when it clicked.

“Oh my gosh, Tim?” You asked. He smiled, nodding. “Holy cow, you’re so… adult!”

He laughed. He was a student from your first year as a teacher in the QZ, finishing high school in 2007. You hadn’t seen him since.

“Yeah, I’m 21 now,” he smiled proudly. “Doesn’t really matter much now but still, cool to say.”

Bitter Sweet Symphony started playing and he held out his hand.

“Wanna dance?” He asked. “I think the statute of limitations of you as my teacher are up.”

“Fuck it,” you shook your head. “Why not?”

“Yeah!” Marta whooped. “Getting Doc on the dance floor!”

You flipped her off and she laughed as you followed behind him.

Tim, you were happy to know, was doing alright for himself. He had a girlfriend he was crazy about. He was stuck working for FEDRA, of course, but he was doing some engineering work.

“All because you made me interested in science,” he said, one hand at your waist, the other in yours. “So, thanks for that.”

“You’d have gotten there eventually without me,” you smiled. “But I’ll take some credit for your success.”

The song changed to something you didn’t recognize, something fun and upbeat. His face brightened.

“Mind if I spin you?” He asked. “Always wanted to try that.”

“I am in the dress for it,” you smiled a little. “Go for it, kid.”

He clumsily twirled you under his arm until his fingers slipped out of yours and sent you spinning across the dance floor. You were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe and he took your hand again just as you saw Joel, watching you from across the bar.

Your laughter died and your breath caught in your throat. Seeing him was like seeing a ghost. It took you a moment to understand why but then you realized it. Since November, you’d thought of the Joel you knew as though he were dead. He’d died with Sarah, back in September, 2003. He’d never made it to Boston.

You’d mourned him in a way. You’d put the few clothes he’d left at your place into the floorboards with your stash - those weren’t his, after all - but left the picture of him, Sarah and you on your nightstand. That Joel wasn’t a killer. That Joel hadn’t blamed you for it. You’d taken to charging your old cell phone, reading back through texts with him and with Sarah that were still stored there every night before you fell asleep. There was a voicemail, too, one from a week before you visited the last time.

“Hey Baby,” he’d said. “Think I fucked up the time difference again, must still be out with Louisa… Anyway, missin’ ya. Call me when you’re home safe. Love you.”

That Joel was dead and the man he’d become was staring daggers at you.

“Doc?” Tim said.

“Mind if I cut in?” Andrew said.

“Good to see you, Tim,” you managed to turn and smile at him. “Glad to know you’re doing well.”

“Take care, Doc,” he smiled, leaving you with Andrew. He pulled you into his arms and put his mouth near your ear.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he said quietly, holding you tightly to him so you had no choice but to sway with him. “We’re going to stay out here for this song and we’re going to have a great time. And then we’re going to go back to the table and drink the beers that Jess is getting us right now.”

“I just…”

“Nope,” he cut you off. “We’re not doing that, we’re not going to run away because that fucker showed up. We’re going to stay here and we’re going to have fun in spite of his ass. Got it?”

You just nodded.

“Good.”

You weren’t paying attention to the music, the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you drowning out almost everything else, Andrew’s hands on you seeming like the only thing tethering you to the earth. You let him guide you back to the table, a fresh beer sitting in front of your seat.

“Hey Doc!” Jess said brightly. “So an amnesiac walks into a bar. He goes up to a beautiful blonde and says ‘so… do I come here often?’”

It took you a second and then you laughed, the spell of Joel’s eyes on you snapping. And life continued on. Until a Texas drawl appeared over your shoulder.

“Scuse me.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as you looked behind you, Tommy standing there. “I was really hoping I could get you onto the dance floor.”

“Me,” you said, incredulous.

“Well I try to make a habit of getting the prettiest girl at the bar to give me the time of day,” he smiled. “So I’m just hopin’ you’ll cut me a break for old time’s sake.”

“Look,” Andrew said, but you cut him off.

“Why not,” you said. He smiled - that fucking Miller man smile - and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you to your feet and toward the dance floor. Linger was playing. He put his hands at your waist and your arms went around his neck, swaying in time.

“So Kid,” he smiled. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you said cautiously. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you.

“I feel like you’re doubtin’ my good intentions,” he said.

“If Joel sent you to talk to me, you can tell him to fuck off,” you said.

“That asshole?” He scoffed. “He about ripped my arm off when I said I was going to ask you to dance, he doesn’t want me doin’ this. You think that’s the only reason I’d come talk to you?”

“Maybe not the only reason,” you smiled a little.

“Wasn’t joking about gettin’ the prettiest girl at the bar to give me the time of day,” he smiled back. “Got news for you, any bar you’re in? That’s you. I just have to talk you into it now.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head a little, smiling anyway.

“You’re still such a player, aren’t you?” You teased.

“Nah, just a charmer,” he said.

“How’ve you been?” You asked.

“Well as can be expected,” he shrugged. “Roommate’s a dick but…”

You snorted and he smiled broader.

“I told him he was a fuckin’ asshole for what he did to you, you know,” he said after a moment, face turning serious. “He was also a fuckin’ dumbass but he’s always been a dumbass. It’s the asshole shit I can’t stand.”

“Let me know if the message ever sinks in,” you said wryly.

“That’ll be the day,” he scoffed.

The song shifted, something soft and slow. He tugged you closer and your cheek leaned into his chest. You danced quietly for a bit.

“I wanted to ask you out, back in the day,” he said eventually, his lips close to your ear.

“Really?” You glanced up at him, not wanting to move your head.

“Joel told me you were ‘off limits,’” he laughed a little. “Course I didn’t know that was because he wanted ya but…”

“Damn,” you joked. “Dibs really put you off, huh?”

“If I’d known it was just dibs it wouldn’t have,” he replied.

The song changed to Black Magic Woman and he stepped back from you a bit.

“Now, see, I might have had some ulterior motives,” he smiled sheepishly. “May have put this on the jukebox in hopes I could get you to dance to it with me…”

“I don’t know how to dance to this,” you laughed, moving to head back to your seat, hand still in his. He caught you and pulled you back against him.

“I do,” his hand went to the small of your back, pressing your hips against his. You swallowed. “Just gotta follow my lead, pretty girl.”

He took the lead, his hips pushing against yours, moving in sharp rhythm. You could feel him through his jeans. His legs nudged yours in the right steps, your breasts flush against him. His eyes traced your face, lingering on your lips.

The song felt too short, the two of you coming to a stop in the middle of the dance floor, bodies still close together.

“How ‘bout a drink?” He smiled.

“Sure,” you smiled back. He laced his fingers with yours and led you to the bar, just catching a glimpse of Joel standing up and storming off as you did.

Tommy joined the table with your coworkers, pulling up a chair close to yours, one hand on the small of your back. Marta asked how you knew each other and immediately latched on to the “we’ve been friends for 11 years” thing to get stories out of him like the time he tried to teach you to grill and you accidentally set the thing on fire and seriously considered pushing it into the pool to put it out.

“We’re gonna head out,” Andrew said before he leaned in to kiss your cheek goodbye, whispering in your ear as he did. “You OK?”

You just nodded and he left with Jess. You realized then that they were the last of the party to leave.

“One more drink,” Tommy smiled. “Just you and me.”

“Well if you’re going to twist my arm about it,” you smiled back.

The bar was emptying out, just a few stragglers left on the dance floor. Tommy got you both a whiskey on the rocks, sitting next to you in a booth, putting his arm around your shoulders. You propped your feet on the chair across the table from you and leaned your head on his chest, swirling the whiskey in your chipped glass. The ice clinked.

“Missed seein’ you,” he said after a minute, taking a drink. “You always just… Made shit better. It’s all brighter with you.”

“You’re sweet,” you smiled a little, taking a drink. “And I’ve missed seeing you, too.”

Closing Time came on and Tommy laughed.

“We can take a hint!” He yelled over your head before finishing his drink. “We’re goin, we’re goin.”

You laughed, polishing yours off, too, before getting up. You could just barely feel the alcohol in your head, far from drunk and just on the edge of tipsy.

“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You know, I walk home on my own late at night most days,” you said, following him out of the bar, anyway. “Always ends up fine.”

“Humor me,” he smiled, holding out his hand. You smiled back, taking it. He tugged you close to him, setting an easy pace.

You talked about random things you missed about Austin, laughing when you mentioned your favorite second hand clothing shop downtown near campus.

“Isn’t that just shopping now?” He teased.

“Oh you know it’s not the same,” you laughed. “I got this great dress there once from the 70s. I think I only wore it once, to a wedding, but damn did it make my boobs look fantastic. One of life’s great regrets is the fact that it’s rotting away in my closet in New York.”

“Damn,” he shook his head. “Now one of my great regrets is not seeing that dress…”

You laughed, stopping at the door to your building.

“This is me,” you half smiled.

“How about I walk you up?” He asked. You raised your eyebrows. “I know I know, but how often do you walk home from the clinic with a few drinks in you?”

“I’ve treated you, do you want to know the answer to that question?” You teased. He laughed.

“Well those times, I wouldn’t have to feel guilty if somethin’ happened to ya,” he said. “Let me walk you up.”

“If that’s what will help you live the dream, Miller, far be it from me to stop you.”

You opened the communal door and led the way upstairs, stopping by your apartment.

“See?” You teased, after unlocking your door but leaving it closed and turning to face him. “So eventful.”

He leaned his arm against the door frame, caging you in on one side. His eyes dropped to your lips before going back to your eyes.

“Still think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said quietly, his free hand delicately lifting your chin toward him.

“Tommy,” you breathed. His hand slipped from your chin to the back of your head, his thumb still along your cheek.

“Want me to stop?” He asked, moving closer.

You swallowed.

“No,” you said.

“Good,” he said. “Neither do I.”

He kissed you then. Soft, gentle, his lips parting just enough that you could taste the whiskey on his breath. He leaned his body into yours, the hips that had been moving with yours on the dance floor pressing into you a different way now. A familiar ache sparked low in your stomach as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

You weren’t sure how long he kissed you, but after a moment, he pulled back, a little breathless.

“Why don’t we go inside?” He said softly.

“Yeah,” you nodded, opening the door behind you.

Things moved a lot faster then. His hands slid the straps of your dress down your arms before your door was fully closed. He reached to lock it while you fumbled with the buckle of his belt. His lips were on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, his hands ranging over every inch of skin they could reach before sliding your dress down to pool on the floor. You pulled at the buttons of his shirt until you were able to shove it off and he quickly unclipped your bra. He looked down at your bare chest, panting for breath a little.

“Damn,” he said. “Don’t regret not seein’ the dress anymore. This is so much fuckin’ better.”

He stepped out of his boots quickly and you unbutton and unzipped his pants. You kicked off your sandals and he tugged your panties down, leaving them on the floor as you pulled him against you toward your bed. He paused, your legs against the bed, his hands holding you gently.

“You sure you’re good with this?” He asked.

“Just kiss me, Miller,” you said. He wasted no time obliging.

You pulled him onto your bed with you, his weight settling easily between your thighs. He slid a hand down your body to your pussy, softly tracing your clit for a moment before pressing his fingers against you, working you in slow, longing circles. You moaned against his mouth, rocking your hips against his hand. You felt him smile against your lips.

Tommy slipped a thick finger inside you, exploring you, the tip brushing your inner walls until he found the spot that made your toes curl. He added another finger, working both of them against the place inside you, adding his thumb to your clit until your back arched and you came with a loud moan around him.

“Fuck, gorgeous,” he pressed his lips to your collar bone. “Gonna need you to do that again while I’m inside you… you’ve got me fuckin’ desperate for it…”

“Then get inside me,” you panted, reaching between your bodies to take his cock in your hand. He was thick, hard, not so long that you were worried about whether or not he would fit but long enough that you knew he would fill you. You worked him up and down, spreading the wetness from his tip over him.

“Tryin’ to kill me, I swear,” he said, slipping his fingers from inside you to himself, brushing your hand away. He lined himself up with your entrance, pressed his lips to yours and thrust into you.

The stretch was immediate, a sharp but pleasant burn as he sank into you. He moaned against your lips and you rocked your hips against him, making his movements stutter.

“You trying to make me cum before I’m even inside you?” He gasped. “Fucking hell, girl.”

He thrust the rest of the way inside you in one quick, hard motion, making your back arch, pulling a delicious moan from your lips. His arm slipped below you, pulling your torso flush with his as he began to fuck into you, his thick cock sliding out to just the tip before thrusting back against your back wall with every stroke. You clung to him as his lips found your throat, your breasts, his hard length moving faster, more forcefully every time. The tip of him was hitting the spot inside you with every movement, your second orgasm building fast.

“Fuck, I’m going to…” you managed. He thrust harder, your sentence ending in a strangled cry.

“Won’t last when you do,” he gasped. “Where can I…”

“I’m on the pill,” you said quickly.

“Thank fuck.”

He picked up the pace, holding himself deep inside you every few strokes, your body tightening and coiling around him until you felt the taught band of pleasure snap, your core pulsing around him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck…” he groaned, thrusting two more times before collapsing on top of you, both of you limp and gasping for breath.

He pressed his lips to your throat, still deep inside you, and you saw the picture frame with Joel and Sarah on your nightstand out of the corner of your eye. While he was distracted, you reached up and silently set it face down before wrapping your arms around the man in your bed.

A/N: THAT'S RIGHT GUYS SHE'S GETTING WITH BOTH BROTHERS AND JOEL FUCKING HATES IT. This has been building since literally day one of this story lol. Tommy has had a crush on her FOREVER and now it's finally paying off - for him and for us (because we get the drama of it)

I have a taglist, so if you'd like to be included, just comment below! Thank you so so much for reading and following along. I hope you enjoy the drama and the angst! Love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #tommy miller

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darcydarlingdabbles · 4 months ago

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One Last Round

♠ Hazbin Hotel ♠ RadioHusk ♠ Explicit ♠ 2.8

Husk always says that's the last time, every time the fucking Radio Demon comes to find him long after the bar closes. //I've never written a hate fuck...until now XD //

♠┈┈♦┈┈❤┈┈♦┈┈♠

Husker gathered up glasses from the now empty bar in the Hazbin Hotel lobby. His nails clinked against the cups in the echoing silence after everyone had gone to bed for the night, and he was just glad there wasn’t more clean up to do.

For a bunch of damned souls and the Princess of Hell, the little get together had been surprisingly calm.

No brawls, no property damage, barely any debauchery—though he could have done with a bit more drinking.

“Should be fuckin’ happy they didn’t trash this place.” Husk muttered, wiping down the sticky remnants of mixed drinks and cocktails from the polished wooden surface. “Or the radio fucker’d have me up all night scrubbin’.”

He longed for the comfort of his bed and its nest of pillows, his mind already on sleep…so he didn’t notice the shadows gathering across the bar.

The soft clink of ice in a glass made his ear twitch. Husk’s hackles rose—praying it wasn’t exactly who he thought it was.

Alastor perched primly on the last bar stool like he’d been there all damn evening. With the dimmed light glinting off those shark’s teeth of his.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Husk yelped, stumbling back into the shelf and sending glasses rattling like bowling pins. “Don’t do that to an old man, you creepy bastard!”

Alastor just chuckled softly behind that never-slipping smile.

The cat demon’s hair was still standing on end, but he quickly brushed down his arms. Hiding the evidence. As if Alastor needed anymore cause to dig right under his skin.

Damn smug Radio Demon.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Husk growled. “Party’s over. Go haunt someone else’s nightmares.”

“Oh, my dear Husker,” his voice purred with amusement, propping his elbow up on the bar and his clawed fingers under his chin. “Is that a confession—you do dream of me?”

Those red eyes glinted with mischief even in the dimmed light. Husk’s fur bristled and his slashing tail betrayed his agitation.

“Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself.” He grunted, turning back to drying the glasses, before remembering he hadn’t washed them yet. “Ain’t in the mood for your games, Alastor.”

The Radio Demon cocked both eyebrows above his smirk.

“Now, now.” He leaned forward on his stool, his voice taking a sing-song lilt.“You are a bartender, are you not? Fix me a drink, my good fellow.”

Husk’s ears flatted to his head. Gritting his teeth against the urge to tell Alastor exactly where he could shove his drink.

“What’ll it be?” He growled out instead.

The other man’s grin widened impossibly further, leaning over the bar as if he could close the distance that Husk was keeping between them.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I like, Husker.” Alastor’s voice dropped to a low, intimate rumble that shivered down the cat demon’s spine like a prickle of electricity.

His tail stilled before he could stop it, and he silently cursed himself and his boss.

“Ain’t happening,” Husk said gruffly, refusing to meet Alastor’s knowing gaze as he reached for rye whiskey and a clean glass.

He poured a generous measure, neat, just the way Alastor liked it. His eyes followed the glass sliding across the bar, picked up with an elegant twist of his wrist, and bringing it to his lips. Inadvertently locking with Alastor’s predatory gaze.

Husk’s ears flattened to his head.

“What’s the matter, old friend? Not fond of your own taste in drinks?” He raised an eyebrow before taking a delicate sip of the rich amber liquid.

Husk swallowed as Alastor did.

The Radio Demon let out a low, appreciative hum, his eyes never leaving the cat’s face as he set down his glass.

“Intensely bitter.” He licked his lips, too damn deliberate to be innocent. “Just the way I like it.”

Husk shook his head to clear it. He hadn’t had enough to be this damn cloudy. With a huff, he turned his back on Alastor and found anything he could grab to occupy his hands.

“Stop fuckin’ around,” he muttered to the imaginary stain in the glass he was cleaning. His wings twitched as he felt Alastor’s eyes burning a hole through his back. “Ain’t you got better people to torment?”

The air behind him crackled with static.

Husk froze, feeling his hair stand in waves—he knew what was coming, but he was powerless to stop it.

The Radio Demon’s presence leaned down over his shoulder. His hot breath ghosted over Husk’s flicking ears as he spoke in a deep, dangerous tone.

“Oh, my dear Husker. I assure you, ” Alastor purred and Husk’s spine curled with shivers. “When I begin to…fuck around, as you so eloquently put it…” Husk felt his heart stutter, waiting on the demon’s next word. “You will most certainly know it.”

The feathers of his wings puffed involuntarily as Husk stumbled forward, ignoring the surge of want that rushed through his blood as he turned around.

“I said it ain’t happenin’.” His gruff voice was weak even in his ears.

Husk searched frantically along the bar, fumbling with bottles and glasses, anything to keep his hands busy and avoid that burning red gaze.

But Alastor never was one to give up easy.

“Yes, of course,” he drawled, his presence looming right over the cat’s shoulder and his warmth tantalizingly close. “Just like every time it wasn’t happening, hmm?” He chuckled softly.

Husk felt his tail sway with interest—and hit into the other demon’s legs.

“Just like every time it didn’t happen. Right, darling?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” Husk snapped back, fighting off the memory of every time Alastor pulled out the honeyed words and sweet names.

His resolve was crumbling, like it happened, every time.

Husk opened his mouth to bite out some nasty insults, but the words died in his throat as he felt something terribly, wonderfully familiar. Alastor’s long, slender fingers threading through his fur.

The demon’s touch was gentle but deliberate, claws drawn perfectly down Husk’s back with practiced ease.

“What was that, my dear Husker?” Alastor grinned at his ear.

Husk bit into his lip, desperately trying to stiffle the purr building in his chest, but his back was arching into Alastor’s hands.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Husk growled without an ounce of venom. “Y’know exactly what you’re doin’.”

“Of course I do,” Alastor replied, his grin clear in his voice. “I know you better than anyone, old friend.”

Alastor’s fingers continued their ministrations, finding all the spots that made Husk’s resolve crumble. The cat demon’s wings twitched, feathers rustling as pleasure as a soft, rumbling purr escaped his throat.

This dangerous little habit he’d gotten into. But the high of giving into Alastor was as addictive as booze—a bet he thrilled in losing.

He should push the bastard off and tell him to fuck off.

“Dammit,” Husk gritted out.

Alastor’s ears stood straight up at the sound of the demon’s resolve breaking. His fingers drew up along the cat’s back, pushing the suspenders off his shoulders and letting them fall loose without a scrap of resistance.

Letting Alastor know he’d won.

The Radio Demon leaned down, his hand stroking down Husk’s chest and belly as he leaned to his ear, cooing heatedly. “There’s a good kitty.”

“Fuck—” Husk gasped out as Alastor cut him off with a bite to his sensitive ear. The cat’s body responded in an instant, a wave of arching arousal that nearly burned the rest of the fight out of him.“—you.”

Alastor simply chuckled, his breath hot against Husk’s neck.

His long-fingered hand curled around the tent straining at the other demon’s pants, dragging a strangled groan from the old cat.

“How about one last round for the evening?” Alastor hummed, gripping the nape of Husk’s neck as he palmed his arousal. “You know I will make it worth your while.”

Husk growled, but nothing in him wanted to resist the wicked treatment Alastor gave.

“Stop tryna be slick,” he growled as his hips bucked forward. “And get on with it.”

“Certainly!” Alastor’s grin was impossibly wider as he snapped his fingers.

Husk grunted as he was shoved forward by the shadow tentacles that had started to pool around his ankles. Suddenly, his bare ass was on the bar top, his pants gone, and his legs spread like a damn invitation.

The curses died on his tongue as Alastor leaned over him with a predatory grace, dragging his tongue in a hot, wet line down the pink skin of his cock.

“Slick, did you say?”

“Don’t fuckin’ tease—” Husk’s words dissovled into a choked moan as Alastor took his cock into his mouth.

The cat’s claws gripped the edge of the bar, leaving grooves in the wood as the other demon worked over his length. He never felt the edge of those teeth—but he certainly felt the slide of that silver tongue.

“Cocky bastard.” Husk huffed, wriggling against the tendrils that kept him still. Alastor’s laugh vibrated through him, making the cat shudder.

A slick tentacle materialized between them, sliding up between Husk’s thighs until it found his furled hole. The old man squirmed against the slithering, gasping as he felt the tip press inside and start to stretch him as Alastor continued his ministrations.

Husk slipped his nails into the demon’s hair, knowing full well he was taking his life into his hands when he pulled at the deer ears. Alastor snarled against him, but never drew his mouth back.

Even as his claws sank into the shelf behind the bar.

The tentacle writhed inside Husk—until it hit that spot that put every hair on end as pleasure rocketed through him. His wings flared wide, knocking Alastor’s forgotten whiskey glass across the room.

A shadow caught it.

“Careful darling,” Alastor chuckled, taking the glass the tendril brought to his hand. “We wouldn’t want to make a bigger mess for you to clean up, would we?”

The Radio Demon smirked, licking his lips as he took a casual sip of his whiskey.

“You’re a real smug son of a—”

Alastor cut his retort off by dropping his mouth back onto Husk’s cock. Until it and the tentacle were leaving him a gasping, trembling mess on the bar top. Desperate for more than the agonizingly slow stretch.

“You plannin’ on taking all damn night?” Husk growled, his tail thrashing wildly.

Alastor’s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as he raised the whiskey glass to his lips. “My, my. Impatient, aren’t we?” He took another leisurely sip, savoring Husk’s growing agitation. “Good things come to those who wait, dear Husker.”

“For fuck’s sake, Al,” Husk muttered, his wings twitching with each movement of the tentacle.

With a flick of the Radio Demon’s wrist, the neon green chain materialized around Husk’s throat, making his yellow eyes go wide.

Alastor wrapped the links around his fingers, and then yanked Husk forward.

Their lips crashed together.

The taste of whiskey flooded Husk’s senses, familiar and intoxicating, making him lean in desperately for more.

♠┈┈♦┈┈❤┈┈♦┈┈♠

As their lips parted, Husk panted heavily, his breath mingling with Alastor’s. The Radio Demon’s eyes sparked deviously, and the tentacle within Husk writhed in response.

“Ya gettin’ on off on bein’ a fuckin’ tease?,” Husk accused, his voice hoarse.

“I like it when you’re…feisty” Alastor smirked, his fingers tracing the edges of the chain around Husk’s neck. “And I’d be happy to let you go without, if you’d rather not play my game.” He said, with an air of faux sweetness.

Husk let out a sound of pure irritation, the tentacle still squirming inside him as others held his legs and wings in place.

He hated the way Alastor could turn him on and then toy with him like this.

Husk knew he was powerless against Alastor, and his wicked charms. A habit he couldn’t kick.

The cat let out a frustrated groan, his body tensing as the tentacle brushed his sweet spot once again. He knew Alastor wouldn’t let him come, not yet at least, even as he grabbed desperately for the man’s lapels.

“I can wait you out, Husker.” Alastor sang to him.

“Fuck you.” Husk gritted back.

“You wish.” Alastor intoned as he took another long, luxuriating sip of whiskey.

Husk hissed, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape. He didn’t want to give Alastor the satisfaction—didn’t want to give in to his game.

But every nerve ending was on fire, and the tentacle inside him was edging into him. As Alastor just sat back, and smiled, and smiled…

And Husk couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the glowing chain with both hands, and pulled the other demon flush against him. “Fuck me already.” He demanded in a desperate whisper.

“What was that, old friend?” Alastor taunted, inches from Husk’s nose.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Husk was about to rip his own fur out. He struggled against the shadows holding him, trying to tug the immovable Alastor forward. “Fine! I want ya to fuck me ‘til I can’t see straight. Fuck—please!”

Alastor’s smile stretched across his face. “With pleasure.”

The chain vanished, and the Radio Demon’s hand wrapped around Husk’s throat.

His yellow eyes went wide as his back was pinned against the bar, but he only struggled when he felt the teasing tentacle withdraw—only to let out a low hum as he felt Alastor’s cock slide inside him at last.

“Fuck…” Husk grabbed at the demon’s wrist, trying to steady himself as the other finally began to move.

It was slow, deliberate, dragging the bliss from him with every thrust.

But Husk wanted more.

“Fuck you and the things you do to me.” He tried to snarl through his husky voice and the hand just holding on to his neck.

“Always a pleasure,” Alastor chimed, his voice dripping with saccharine charm to Husk’s roiling frustration. “To hear such delightful vulgarity.”

Husk could feel his orgasm building, but he knew Alastor wouldn’t let him come yet. Not until he was good and ready.

“Faster,” Husk demanded, his voice strained.

And he hated the fucking laugh that answered him.

“Relax Husker,” Alastor purred, “We’re not done yet.”

With a snap of his fingers, Husk found himself face down behind the bar. Alastor’s cock was back inside him before he could protest the loss. Fucking him hard and fast.

Husk mewled. And he’d be mortified—if he could give a fuck beyond the feeling of Alastor’s cock hit his sweet spot again and again.

The Radio Demon’s claws and arms were elongate and caging him in, his wings and his legs still bound in shadows, and…ragged, panting breaths were at his ear.

Husk was surrounded. Consumed by Alastor. The sick fuck that owned every inch of him.

The cat demon cursed the last thought he had before he tumbled over the edge. He let out a low growl, his body shaking as he squeezed around Alastor’s cock.

Husk collapsed onto the bar, his body spent.

There were fingers running through his fur, soothing him as he caught his breath.

Husk lay there, panting heavily, still trembling from the bliss that had just ripped through him. He could feel Alastor’s own release, hot and wet inside him.

The other’s weight was still on top of him, the radio demon’s chest heaving against his back as he struggled to catch his breath.

Alastor’s fingers were running through Husk’s fur, gently tracing patterns along his spine. It was almost soothing, and Husk found himself relaxing into the touch.

“Don’t get sweet on me now.”

Husk let out a low growl, too damn tired to flatten his ears to his head—even as his tail curled around the man’s waist from behind. He could feel Alastor’s breath hot against his neck, the Radio Demon’s lips grazing his skin as he spoke.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, old friend.” Alastor chuckled.

Husk let out a huff of laughter. “Get the fuck off me,” he muttered, but there was no real heat behind the words.

Alastor chuckled, his fingers stilling for a moment before resuming their gentle stroking. “Always so charming, aren’t you?”

Husk rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest as Alastor continued to touch him. He could feel the Radio Demon’s length was still inside him, growing hard again—damn demonic powers.

And he knew that Alastor wasn’t done with him yet.

For now, he was content to lie there and let Alastor pet him like a cat. It was almost...nice.

And when Alastor was ready for round two, Husk would be ready to fight him every step of the way.

#Honestly #I get it now #that was hot af #Radiohusk #alastor #husker #Alastor x husk #husk x alastor #smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor hazbin #husk #rare ship #top alastor #bottom husk

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bluntlybetter · 1 month ago

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Just gonna say some stuff about the Dandy’s World situation regarding Qwel and Rox.

To make it short,

Do not buy from Qwel!

I feel it’s important to share this opinion and thought process, since some people seem to be celebrating Rox’s termination (Good Riddance), but not taking in other key facts that can change how you see the situation and Qwel. I still do not support them. Neither of them.

…

Qwel states that she had no idea of Rox’s behavior until the night before his termination from BlushCrunch. Though, this issue had been brought up ever since the popularity of Dandy’s World, and spread almost like a wildfire. Almost every Dandy’s World fan had begun to know about Rox’s disgusting behavior, with proof.

Not only that, but some people have said that Qwel would kick people after speaking out about Rox’s behavior while he was on the team. And while, she could have mistaken this for false rumors, it should have atleast raised an eyebrow, considering the amount of people that must have been talking about it directly.

More importantly, something that has been going on for awhile, that makes the story pretty difficult to rely on, Qwel was already attempting to defend Rox back then? Saying he felt guilty about the things he drew, never mentioning his victims, showing that they both didn’t care, at all? How could things be suddenly “brought up” or “called out”, when it had already happened that long while ago?

What I speak about next is more of my opinion and suspicion rather than something confirmed, though in my eyes, it seems very very probable.

The update comes out, and we’re shown the skins. We get a good taste, and things go bad. This only worsens the feedback on the game, people beginning to say they don’t have any control or solidity. After a few mess-ups and finally creating the first ever gamepass, the new skins, they realize.. that no one is buying it! Only very few are, those who don’t care about the situation, and those who may not know.

The green can be excusable, but the people in the red are wrong.

What could be the cause of all this lost profit? Well, the situation with Rox. No one wants to buy from someone who supports something that gross. So what does she do in attempt to fix it? Fire him. But its too late. Theres nothing for her to save, at this point, her actions already showing that she is a bad person aswell, supporting/indifferent from the act Rox had done.

I know its a little silly for someone like me to make a post like this, but the situation that has been going on right now is genuinely disgusting. I’d prefer if she gave an apology saying how she was wrong, but even then, would it even mean anything, considering how far she’ll go for some profit? The only way BlushCrunch could “save” Dandy’s World and Flavour Frenzy would be to get someone else to be the owner. Both Rox and Qwel are weird, disgusting people.

#dandy #dandys world #dandy's world #skins dandys world #roblox dandys world #dandysworldqwel #dandysworldrox #qwel #blushcrunch studios #blushcrunch #flavor frenzy #flavourfrenzy

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quinloki · 5 months ago

Note

Been re-reading yan wbp

here we go again

Reader sneaking something into the water while docked at an island basically putting the whole ship asleep. Sneaking out they have no need to be quiet and can grab everything they need because everyone is passed out. Right….? Nope. Someone wasn’t successfully drugged 😔

Marco: his devil fruit burnt off the meds around the 5 min mark and was walking the ship looking for answers. He’s upset, you put everyone at risk for your own selfish desire to be “free”. After everything they did you want to leave that bad?!? (It’s his responsibility to protect everyone as the ship’s doctor and no.1 division commander that’s why I think he’s mad ;))

Good thing his devil fruit can heal people, he can hurt you essentially all he wants. Breaking parts of you to fix it moments later just to break a different part of you.

Izou: he noticed something wrong with the water soon as he put it to his lips. He’d be more amused you tried something so big. He knows the island is safe enough.Seems like previous punishment wasn’t thorough enough for you. He’ll fix that.fast.

Ace: his devil fruit burnt it off, took longer than marco but he still wakes up way earlier than everybody else. He’s upset you’d betray him like that. He would likely be so upset and think it was a personal attack he’d hunt you down quick. Depending on what you grabbed and how long you took it would be relatively quick or painfully slow and long in your eyes. The island had a forest, ace grew up in a forest. He’d hunt and toy with you to show you just how helpless you are without him. Without the others.

Thatch: he would very likely not realize. He’d make everyone food and unintentionally be the one who spreads the drugged food to the whole crew. He’d be in the kitchen cleaning up and before he knows it everyone it asleep. Immediately his eyes scan the table checking on everyone and taking notice you’re not there. He hopes to god you didn’t do this because he’d have to be the one to capture you and now they’ll have to check if they have any water that’s not fucked AND restock. He’d be pissed and find you before you even get off the ship. Giving you a taste of your own medicine he’d easily put together a concoction of poison and paralytics to give you or force down your throat while he sits at the edge of the bed he tied you to with either a sick smile or a blank face. You’re not sure what scares you more

Im a bit rusty with writing but I had a terrible(amazing)idea and had to write it . : D

If most of this is jumbled up, oops

My dyslexia messed with my eyes on the second half so if the sentence are out of order my apologies

The fact it’s 1:17 isn’t helping either lol

-💧

Oh man the set up is already dark, but I’mma bury the gauge on this one:

Cw: non con, yandere, torture physical and emotional, dark content.

Marco finds you fast. You’re not being quiet because everyone is supposed to be out, and you’re the only noise on the ship right now. You had been impressively efficient though, if everyone had stayed out for as long as the medicine was meant to knock them out you could’ve been on a ship headed to who knew what island before he stirred.

By the time the others start to come around, you’re nude, tied harshly tight in a spread eagle manner, a gag stuffed into your mouth that has your jaw aching and forces a gag out of you every few minutes.

Not enough for you to choke to death, but there’s no comfort in your position.

Blindfolded, you can’t see, but you can hear and feel and you whimper uselessly as they begin to discuss your fate - hushed details keeping you in the dark as to what’s coming. But you hear enough to feel fear and guilt twist in your stomach.

It starts with someone eating you out. It feels incredible in the haze of coarse rope against your skin and the burning stretch in your limbs. You’re so fully immobile you can’t fight anything being done to you, but the pleasure is a terrifying thing.

You’ve done nothing to deserve it, and you’re painfully aware of that.

Awareness becomes understanding as the first orgasm builds. You’re expecting to be edged, trying not to let yourself slide into the need, but just as the wave crests and brings sweet pleasure and relief

Someone breaks one of your fingers.

Your body was tensed in orgasm when it happened and someone rips the gag from your mouth as you start to truly choke. The break is set, ripping another scream from you and you know the warm feeling of healing from Marco’s flames sinking into the break and sob.

Your fate is sealed.

And the hours pass.

Orgasm, break, set, heal. Again, and again, and again.

You beg, you apologize, you scream - you’re pretty sure you pass out a couple times. The only reprieve you get is when you lose control of your lower functions and they stop long enough to clean you and everything up.

Then it resumes.

It could be for days, the haze of pleasure, intense pain, relief, and complete silence from them makes it impossible to know how long you endure it. Every bone in your hands and feet were broken as far as you could tell. One by one. Set. And then healed.

But Marco’s healing isn’t perfect. So everything ached and throbbed.

Nothing was broken twice, but you don’t know that until later.

You are shattered at the end of it. There is nothing left of you but enough will to move a doll. You smile at your masters, and agree meekly, doing all they ask. You never look afraid. You’re always relieved to be guided by one of them, moved and slowly, oh so slowly, built back up piece by piece just as they wish.

It takes a few months for you to stop screaming in pain when you cum. A few more after that for you to ask for it.

Some part of you survived. Enough that they dont grow distant, that they don’t suddenly feel disconnected from you. Some stubborn thing in your heart that says you are you.

But it’s never enough for you to consider anything other than how you can love and please them.

#quin answers #reader insert #x reader #anon asks #💧#yandere #dark content #tw torture #tw broken bones #marco the phoenix #izou one piece #thatch one piece #portgas d ace

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katnisspeetaprim · 1 year ago

Text

Wedding Day

One shot version of the wedding for the Always, Us couple.

Warnings: established relationship, female reader, idol!au, swearing, alcohol, public sexual activity, oral (m receiving)

Word Count:1455 M.list

The big day was finally here, your wedding day. Well.... Technically you and Yoongi were already married, having eloped together much to the disappointment of your parents, so you wanted do it this way too, just as a formality.

Even though the ceremony wasn’t something you were rushing to do, getting the perfect dress was always a childhood dream.

You could already feel your emotions building up as you left the dressing room. Your mom and group mates gasped in excitement when you stepped in front of them, the attendant fanning out the bottom of the dress for you.

‘Oh honey!’ Your mom gasped out, tears already forming as she took you in. ‘You look beautiful!’

Your members all nodded in agreement, all too stunned to speak. You looked down, suddenly becoming shy.

‘I know it’s not a traditional wedding dress, but I love it.’ You ran your hands over the expensive material. It was baby pink, and was covered in a mesh adorned with flowers. Definitely not traditional , but you never were someone to follow the crowd.

‘Who cares if it’s traditional!? You look so amazing Y/N!’ Yuna stood up and excitedly grasped your hands. You were both practically jumping up and down at this point.

‘You’ve always had such good taste! I can’t wait to see our bridesmaids dresses!’ Chi and Mallory squealed in delight. Yoongi was going to love this dress you just knew it.

Hopefully he would feel the same about your wedding night lingerie set.

‘Aish.... Why am I so nervous today?’ Yoongi shook himself out in an attempt to calm himself. Usually he would be the one to keep it together, but that morning he’d forced everyone to get ready at the crack of dawn, when they didn’t need to be ready till at least 8AM.

‘Hyung, you’re already married! You weren’t nervous the first time.’ Hoseok shot the older man an unimpressed look, not even hiding the fact he was annoyed at his early wake up call that morning.

‘It’s not the same! That was just us...’ Yoongi groaned out as he fixed his hair for the hundredth time that morning.

‘Yoongi.’ Jin appeared behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Relax. Today is about you and Y/N.’ Yoongi looked at his hyung through the mirror, before taking a deep breath and nodding.

‘Hey.’ Jungkook knocked on the open door, drawing attention to himself. ‘It’s time.’

Yoongi stood at the end of the isle, with the other 6 BTS members at his side. Usually, weddings had the same number of groomsmen and bridesmaids, but it would feel wrong to walk down the isle with anyone other than your members in front of you.

Yoongi felt the anxiety bubble up again when the music started to play, but this time it was the good kind, butterfly’s.

He turned and his breath hitched in his throat when he finally saw you. You looked simply stunning as you walked arm in arm with your father. You were holding back your own tears as you focused on Yoongi doing the same.

As you reached the end of the isle, Yoongi bowed to your father who in turn, offered his hand to shake.

Your father was a hard man to please, but he’d always said you did good with Yoongi.

Yoongi took your hands in his and kissed your knuckles.

‘You look beautiful.’ He whispered in your ear so nobody else could hear him. You blushed deeply at the compliment.

‘You look handsome too.’

Your ceremony went by in a blur. Everything went off without a hitch, apart from some paparazzi apparently trying to get into the venue, but your security dealt with them before they even got past the front gates. You were now about halfway through the reception.

Your heels had long since been disregarded under one of the tables so you could go crazy on the dance floor.

‘Yoongi! Come dance with me!’ You’d bunched up your dress and ran over to Yoongi, who was sat down talking to Namjoon, glass of whiskey in his hand.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him. Yoongi whined in fake distress.

‘Yah~ I’m fine here.’ You took the glass from his hand and put it away from him.

‘Come on!’ he threw his head back and groaned, but smiled and got up anyway.

Near the end of the night, you and Yoongi had managed to sneak away to the gardens of the venue, so you could have a moment together.

‘You should have put your shoes back on before coming out here.’ Yoongi chastised when he saw you wince after stepping on a rock.

‘You try wearing heels since 8AM!’ You scoffed as you sat down on the bench, and started rubbing your sore foot. Yoongi sat close and leaned in for a kiss. You smiled into him and stroked his arm. Pulling away, you lay your head on his shoulder. He’d removed his jacket now, so he was just wearing his thin dress shirt.

His hand gently stoked your bare arm, goose bumps forming under the cool night breeze.

‘I’m glad we did this.’ You whispered, bringing your hand up to his chest.

‘Me too.’ He kissed the top of your head, your delicate hair having long since come loose.

‘Honeymoon time?’ You joked, moving to sit up. Yoongi laughed.

‘You and I both know we don’t have time for that.’

‘Well we still have tonight.’ You smirked, leaning in to nibble on his ear lobe. Yoongi shivered and threw his arm round the bench. You took the opportunity to pepper kisses along his throat, drawing out a low moan from the man.

He suddenly lunged and pulled you to straddle his lap. You could already feel his semi hard member pressing against you.

You eagerly leaned down and kissed him feverously. Yoongi brought his hands to cup your bum as your tongues meshed together. He moaned when you unconsciously ground down on his member. He trailed his hand up your body and slipped it inside your dress, squeezing your breast a few times before he chuckled lowly.

‘Shit... You’re making me so hard.’ Yoongi breathed out.

‘That’s the idea.’ You laughed breathily, gasping when he rolled your nipple between his fingers. Yoongi smirked against your lips.

‘We should stop.’ You groaned against him, but got off anyway.

‘Fuck.’ He mumbled, trying to adjust his member to a comfortable position. You smirked and licked your lips, before running your hand over his bulge.

‘You know, nobody will come out here. I could help you out.’ Yoongi knew he should say no, that you had a wedding to get back to, but a man has needs. You quickly unzipped his pants and pulled his dick free, instantly taking it in your hand. Yoongi hissed when the cold air hit him, but threw his head back at your touch.

Slowly, you jerked him for a few moments, before leaning over and licking along the shaft. Yoongi couldn’t stop his whines as you took him in your mouth, licking him with your tongue as you bobbed up and down.

He pulled your hair from your face as you sucked him, moaning into the air as you hit the sweet spot over and over.

‘Fuck. I’m gonna cum.’ You smirked around his dick, already knowing he was close from the way he was bucking his hips. When you didn’t pull away, he sped up his movements, knowing you would take it all.

‘Fuck! Yes!’ Yoongi cried out and held your head down as he came, his seed shooting down your throat. You choked slightly when he hit the back of your throat, but you still swallowed every drop.

You were still connected to Yoongi’s dick with a line of saliva when you pulled away, so you quickly wiped at your mouth and sat up with a smile. Yoongi looked fucked out. His arms were spread out on the back of the bench and his head was thrown back as he breathed heavily.

‘You always give the best head baby.’ You scoffed and pushed him jokingly.

‘Put your dick away. We’re in public.’ He flashed you a gummy smile as he began to laugh.

‘Oh so now you want to be modest?’ He cringed when he realized he would have to put his dick back into his pants wet. He needed to find a bathroom fast. Before that though, he turned back towards you and placed his fingers under your chin, before leaning in to kiss you.

‘And don’t worry.’ His sultry voice whispered in your ear, making you shudder. ‘I’ll take care of you tonight. In every way possible ’

#bts #bts x reader #imagine #one shot #scenario #reaction #drabble #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #smut #angst #fluff #idol!au

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its-monster-mash · 2 years ago

Text

Didn’t Your Momma Ever Tell You not to Talk to Strangers?

Bo Sinclair x Reader - Part One

WARNINGS: Fem!Reader, Gendered terms of endearments/insults, violent thoughts—but they don’t get enacted in this chapter, Bo is…Bo. Sexist Pig.

Part Two Part Three

Bo still thinks back on that first day he saw you.

The first thing he heard when that busted up old van rolled into town was a god awful rattling that told him the wheel bearing was beyond fucked and you were all lucky the wheel hadn’t popped right off and went careening down the highway without you.

You didn’t get his funeral act—he happened to already be hard at work when the rust bucket rolled in, so of course, he was in a pretty shit mood about having to deal with new arrivals right that second until you popped out of the window like a Dukes of Hazzard reject—your sweaty hair matted to your face and your ratty old band tee clinging to your body for dear life in the summer heat.

That lightened his mood right away—you’d look real pretty in his basement, and he was already running through all the ways he’d enjoy making you cry when he realized something awfully damn disappointing.

The rest of your little crew was packed into that van like a goddamn clown car, and judging by the outline of the knife in your tight little cut off shorts, you ladies weren’t fucking around.

But you were fuckin’ nice, weren’t you? All polite and shit. ‘Course, you couldn’t have been too awfully bright, asking the guy in the greasy coveralls if he’s a mechanic—no shit bitch; you think he just rolls around in motor oil because it smells pretty? Get fucked.

His momma would have thought you were trash—the way you were strutting around like that with all that ink in your skin—but god help him, it got him hot. Just the thought of slapping his own name down on you sent a rush through him.

He knows better though. As easy as it would be to grab you and drag you away—the way you were smiling at him like you fucking trusted him and the bullshit charming persona he was feeding you—but even he was smart enough to know that if he tried anything, your little pack of women would fall upon him like wolves—that’d be a fuckin’ stupid way to go out.

So he replaced the wheel-bearing on your friend’s shitty van, you paid him, and his eye twitched at the thought of letting you slip from his grasp when you’d been just about close enough for him to taste your blood under his teeth.

You called him a ‘Lifesaver’ before giving him a peck on the cheek and climbing back in through the window.

You had no idea how right you were—the fact that he let you walk out of Ambrose may as well have been the same thing as saving your useless life.

What a fuckin’ joke.

He didn’t figure he’d see you again after that.

~*~

That is, until two weeks later when he heard the most goddamn annoying custom horn he’d ever heard in his life, and in rolls the slutwagon—you were already leaning out the window with a big stupid smile, waving at him like you two were buddies or something.

Fuck, he was annoyed to see you—it was a goddamned tease—he couldn’t get his hands on you, and yet here you were, darkening his doorstep with that big fuckin’ smile. You probably thought you were so adorable.

He did have to hand it to you about your taste in music though—assuming you weren’t just some vapid bitch wearing someone else’s shirts.

More interesting though, was the shiny loaf of tinfoil you presented to him.

Banana bread—you’d told him—baked it yourself.

Like he was supposed to be touched.

He figured you’d stopped by because you needed him to fix something else on that rolling death trap, but no; all you wanted to do was stop by while you went on your road trip and bring him something nice—since he had been so good to you before.

Fucking freak; who does that?

That damn banana bread was fucking good though—maybe there was hope to make a fuckin’ woman out of you yet.

~*~

Week after week, he had come to expect your little visits—and the sweets you always brought with you. It was like tribute—and goddamn if he didn’t deserve it for being so fucking patient with you.

It was fucking rude of you, honestly, training him like a fucking dog to get all excited when you would come in to town. It had been an awfully long time since he was actually excited to see a specific person—been a long fuckin’ time since there was anyone outside of Ambrose who actually wanted to see him—and part of him hated you for the way your smile spread to his lips when he saw you.

The more genuine his happiness, the more he wanted to fucking punish you.

Honestly, how dare you? How dare you go and make yourself important enough to him that he actually misses you between your little visits?

And then you have the nerve to leave too?

Fuck you, Cunt. The least you could do is go ahead and chain yourself up in his basement, for all the trouble you’ve caused him.

Maybe then he could forgive you.

Fuckin’ doubt it though.

~*~

He hates this day—the day you’re supposed to visit always puts him on edge, and he spends the hours until you and your little pack of wolves actually decide to roll in pacing around by his shop—as if he’s got nothing better to be doing—because that’s where you always come looking for him.

And why not?

You’ve got no idea anything’s weird about Ambrose—you only ever come ‘round to fuck with his heart anyway.

He oughta let Vincent immortalize you in wax—that way you could never fucking leave him again—but then who’d bake him pumpkin bread with the little chocolate chips, just the way he likes it?

Seriously, somehow it was like the chocolate stayed melty even after the bread was long cooled—the bakery in the closest town over doesn’t even sell pumpkin bread. It had to be some kind of fuckin’ witchcraft—that’s it, you bewitched him with your cooking—it’s the only explanation for the for the way his heart stirs when he hears that goddamn horn.

Quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach after all—honestly—you must have done this to him on purpose.

“Hey Bo!” You call out of the window as that sad excuse for a van stops out in front of his shop.

He could have fixed that door of course, but he loves watching you climb out of that little window, so he’s never offered.

“Hey Pretty Lady, got something good for me today?”

“Your favorite,” you beam proudly, presenting a wrapped up loaf that better be fucking pumpkin.

He’d be awful hurt if after all this time you thought his favorite was anything else—not sure how well he could hold himself back if you managed to screw that up.

You are cute though, standing there expectantly, waiting for the hug that’s become a part of your little ritual. He likes the way your titties crush against his chest when you wrap your arms around him, and he lifts you off the ground just a bit for good measure—even he knows that girls love that shit, and to be honest, he’s not quite sure how he’d react if you just up and decided to never come visit him again.

So he’ll keep playing nice, even when it makes the bile rise up to the back of his throat every time your vapid little friends make immature little noises mocking you—and by extension him—for how damn cute you look.

He doesn’t hear the cacophony of hyenas this time though—no—this time it’s a man’s voice.

“So that’s my competition?”

Bo’s jaw goes tense immediately, and he’s not sure if he’s more angry with you for being a fucking slut, or the douchebag leaning out the window and eye-fucking you.

“Get fucked, Corey,” you hiss, throwing the bird over your shoulder without so much as looking at him.

Good Girl, he thinks. Don’t you fucking dare look at that yuppie little fucker.

But that yuppie little fucker is in the shitbucket van—the van you came in on. There’s a metallic taste in Bo’s mouth, and it’s only now that he realizes he’d been biting the inside of his cheek. Truth is, all he is to you is a fucking stop on your road trip—whoever the fuck Corey is, he’s part of your world.

The thought of that shrimpy little cuck bitch getting to fuck you makes him see fucking red.

You have no idea how much danger you’re in right now. There’s nothing Bo wants more that to smack the shit out of your pretty little face for making a fool out of him.

That would teach you—fuck you up so bad no one but him ever wanted to fuck you again.

But he deserves better—he likes your pretty face—so you’d better fucking make it up to him.

What stings the most is that he can’t do shit about any of it right now—and he knows damn well that maybe he never will.

He is not used to feeling powerless, and he is not a fan.

“Oh come on,” The dickprint whines. “You’ll fuck around with this hick but not me?”

So you weren’t fucking him.

That eases Bo’s temper a little bit—even in spite of the fucking rude bullshit the little shit is spewing—and his world stops falling down around him.

“Hey Cumstain, how about you shut your fucking mouth when you’re in my damn town,” Bo fires off, pulling you off to the side of him as he stalks toward the van—your stupid little friends actually look intimidated for once, and it fills him with a surge of pride.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not staying—unlike you I actually have places to go in life.”

“Corey,” you hiss, and the way your lip curls with rage is getting Bo hot under the collar—you look fucking good when you’re angry.

“Oh calm down,” he waves you off. “You’re not this guy’s type anyway—he looks like he gets all his action at the family reunion.”

Bo’s about two seconds shy of dragging this fucker out of the van and making him settle their differences like men—which is to say, he’d utterly pummel the much smaller guy—because God Damn would it feel good to bash that guy’s skull in until his brain matter is clinging to his fists.

But you get in the way.

You’re marching right back to that van with a fire in your eyes that makes Bo wonder if you might actually have more in common with him than he’d originally thought.

You take a fistful off the fucker’s necklaces, and drag him close to you. “You’re gonna fucking apologize to Bo, and you’re gonna do it right fucking now,” you snarl.

“No way, you fucking crazy bitch!” He squirms, but you don’t let him go until one of your usual group shouts your name a couple of times.

Bo kind of wants to rip her throat out for that—he was really looking forward to seeing what you would have done to that guy if he kept up his disrespectful mouth.

“Okay, Tasha, I’m not going one more mile with this piece of shit—so we’re gonna have to figure something else out,” you save Bo the trouble of snapping at her.

“We’re six hours away from home—what are you planning to do?” She huffs. “Walk?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” You put your hands up in exasperation, and Bo can’t help but watch you with baited breath—praying to God that this goes where he hopes it’s going.

Maybe, fucking finally, all his patience is about to pay off.

You turn to face him, and he slaps on a super forced looking smile to cover up the manic glee that’s threatening to burst through. “Is there a hotel in Ambrose?”

“Nah,” Bo shakes his head in a mockery of solemnity, before seeming to perk up with an idea that of course hadn’t crossed his mind before. “You can crash with me though if you want—I got plenty’a room for ya.”

He looks like such a fucking gentleman, and you just fucking nod, taking his hand like a fucking dumb slut who has no idea how much danger she’s getting herself into. “Thanks, Bo, I think I’ll have to take you up on that, if it’s not to much trouble.”

“If it were, I wouldn’t have offered.” That should have been fucking obvious—that’s okay though, he’ll have so much time to force some sense into you now—all the time in the fucking world.

“Are you crazy?” Tasha stares at you in utter disbelief, but you don’t budge—at this point, Bo’s not sure if he’d let you, not when he’s so close to finally bringing you home where you belong. “Come on, just get in the van, okay?”

“No, I’m staying—so don’t bother worrying about me.” You squeeze Bo’s hand a little tighter, and it takes all his willpower not to laugh.

He’s well aware that you’re at least partly using him to antagonize your friends, but he’s more than happy to indulge you right now—you’ll be indulging him soon enough.

“Fine, be that way,” she huffs, kicking the van into drive. “I’ll pick you up next week.”

“Fine,” you sneer, and with that, you’ve sealed your fate.

Bo had spent so much time wracking his brain trying to figure out how to separate you from your little friends, but you went and did all the hard work for him.

Stupid little slut.

He watches that rolling scrap pile leave, and the animal in his chest pants and whines and begs him to maul you like the savage dog you’ve made him—but not yet.

He’s the master of this kennel, and he’s feeling like having a little foreplay this time around.

Lucky you.

#Bo Sinclair #bo sinclair simping #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x female reader #Bo Sinclair x reader #good god I love this disaster man #dymetynttts #probably going to be at least a short series for when I need to decompress from work

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whositmcwhatsit · 2 years ago

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Summary: Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed.

Previous chapters

Chapter 5: Forgive me?

At the hotel, Chancy felt herself easing into the routine. The room was already set up by the advance crew. She stood beside Elvis while one of the Colonel’s people outlined the itinerary for that evening. Apparently, the Governor was coming to the show and wanted to meet him beforehand. There was also a couple of long-time members of a fan club who would be backstage.

Joe managed to usher the outsiders out by arriving with dinner courtesy of some all-night diner that the local police had recommended. Chancy picked at the burger- far too overcooked for her taste- as Elvis and several of the guys tucked in with gusto. Jerry was there, sitting in the armchair adjacent to the sofa, and she could feel the weight of his gaze. Whether it was fixed on her or Elvis, she wasn’t sure because she didn’t dare return it.

“You not hungry, baby?” Chancy shook her head and gave Elvis the same fake smile she had been hiding behind for most of the night. She offered him the rest of her burger and her fries. “Hell, I shouldn’t…” Even as he was speaking, he picked up her burger and took a large bite out of it.

The guys started to disperse as soon as everyone finished eating and Chancy helped Joe tidy up after them while Elvis used the bathroom.

“We got the appointment with the doctor at 4.15,” Joe said as they threw wrappers into the paper sack. “So I’ll be up to get you at about 3.30. How is it feeling now anyway?”

“Oh, just a little achy,” she shrugged. “Thanks for arranging the doctor and the x-ray and everything.”

“No problem.” His grin was always quick and bright. “It’s my job, the road manager needs a healthy crew.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Of course. You help keep the show on the road, right?”

“I don’t know how much I help with that.”

“You do, of course you do,” Joe replied smoothly, shaking his head in admonishment. The bathroom door opened and Elvis came out in his pyjamas and robe. “Anyway, I’ll see you at 3.30.”

“Call the room around 2.30,” Elvis said. Chancy fought a little irritation at the lack of a request, or a please.

“Yep, not a problem. You want me to let Ricky-“

“No, I need a break from that horny little bastard,” Elvis replied, rolling his eyes. “Cha-Cha’ll wake me up, won’t you, baby?”

The sudden responsibility filled her with horror, but they were both looking at her like it was nothing, so she could only shrug and nod.

“Okay, so I’ll call at two thirty, pick up at three thirty. Good night all!” They called their good nights, despite dawn not being far away, and suddenly the room seemed very still and quiet.

“You gonna get ready for bed?” Elvis asked softly at her shoulder when she couldn’t find anything else to fuss over. “It’s getting pretty late…”

“Oh, yeah. You don’t have to wait for me though, honey. You need to rest- I had that nap on the plane, remember.” His gaze weighed tons, she was barely able to keep her head upright from the pressure, and she could feel him prodding and poking at the borders of her mind, trying to force his way in.

“Go get changed,” he said quietly. It was clear from his voice that he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Someone had already unpacked all of their things in the bathroom. She didn’t know who or how. Her toothbrush was laid out next to Elvis’, her washbag and make up bag all arranged on the counter. It seemed so ordinary and domestic.

She glanced up into the mirror as she squeezed the toothpaste out onto her brush and, for a second, didn’t recognise the woman staring back. She looked haunted, hunted, ready to make a run for it.

It was a relief to wash off all the make-up. She didn’t tend to wear much during the day when she was home and the layers she was wearing now were reserved for special occasions and nights out. Her skin felt oily and yet somehow dried out, like it was begging for relief from the onslaught. A little like how she was feeling in general. Her hair, well, her hair was never very happy with her.

Finally, when she had no more excuses, she came out of the bathroom and into the muted light of the bedroom. Elvis was in bed waiting, and he threw back the corner of the blankets in invitation as she approached, a small smile on his face.

Before she had even settled herself onto the mattress, he was presenting her with a pill held between his finger and thumb.

“Here, baby, take this,” he instructed, like it was perfectly normal for him to administer her medication, part boyfriend, part pharmacist. He looked a little put out when she drew back slightly.

“What is it?”

“Just something to help you sleep. It won’t hurt you.”

“I’m okay, darlin’, I don’t think I need it.” She tried to smile like her refusal was nothing, but he was frowning intently at her.

“It’s like you said though, honey, you’ve already had a nap. This’ll get you good and sleepy straight away and then we’ll fall asleep together at the same time. That way I know you’re safe and sound with me where I can protect you.”

The idea of Elvis being able to protect himself let alone her when he was deep in his usual sleep coma was laughable, but she could tell that he wasn’t about to let it drop. Since the plane, he had been looking at her a little more intently as if he was aware of her growing ambivalence.

Feeling perturbed, but knowing that she would not be able to escape without causing another outburst, Chancy opened her mouth and let him place the pill onto her tongue.

“Good girl,” he murmured as she took a sip of the water he offered her. “You know I always know what’s best for you.” He followed up the water with his lips, pressing her back against the pillows. She sank pliantly, her good hand clasping his shoulder.

“I’m gonna take care of you so good that you’ll know that this is right,” he murmured. “By God, there ain’t nothing more right than this.” He moved down on his side so that his head was beside hers on her pillow and he slid his legs either side of one of hers, entangling them. “See how good we fit together?”

His words were already slurring and though she had no doubt he intended to be emphatic, his tone was actually more imploring. She laid her hand on the side of his face, stroking the contour of his cheekbone with her thumb as he smiled slightly at the touch.

“Shhh, baby,” she whispered. It was harder to talk than she remembered, her tongue felt thick. “Go to sleep for Cha-Cha.” She jolted slightly as he tightened his grip around her, squeezing her to him so close that she was no longer sure where either of them began or ended.

Fall 1954

Chancy crossed the lawn arm-in-arm with a girl from her English class. It was Friday and they were discussing their plans for the evening ahead. Barb inhaled, and Chancy already knew her friend was going to start in again about going on a double date with Vince’s cousin that night.

“C’mon, Chance, please? I’ll owe you a huge favour. Vince said that he’s a real catch with the girls back home. Think about it, a true-blue looker in uniform. And he flies a fighter jet, so you know he knows how to manoeuvre his hands.”

“You know I can’t!” Chancy giggled, as Barb yanked her arm up and down like she was trying to pump her into submission.

“Why not? You gotta sit at home and wait to see if one of your neighbours gets a phone call for you?” Barb tried to soften her caustic words with a smile even though they both knew they were often true.

“No, the boys are playing at a dance tonight, at a high school, and it’s not too far away.”

“So you’re going along?”

“Well…” In truth, Elvis hadn’t asked her.

“Chance-”

A loud, sharp whistle pierced the pleasant ambient hum of the afternoon and they, along with half the kids on the lawn, turned in search of the source. A grin spread across Chancy’s face as she registered the truck, even more when a long, lean figure leaned out the window, beckoning her.

“Oh well,” Barb sighed in resignation. “I guess I can try Jeanie. Hey, you want me to wait for you?”

Chancy shook her hand and waved her hand behind her as she hurriedly crossed the sidewalk towards the truck. She leant against the open window and revelled in the sight of her boyfriend grinning at her, his arm hanging from the steering wheel.

“Hey, pretty girl, wanna go for a ride?”

Chancy wondered if her stomach would ever stop flipping when she saw those hooded eyes and that shy smile. She was weak, a prisoner, but an enraptured one.

“Sorry, fella,” she replied, forcing her face to stop grinning mindlessly. “I don’t think my boyfriend’d like it.” He pouted and tilted his head.

“Aw, c’mon, baby, not even a teeny, widdle one? No-one’ll know. Your boyfriend the jealous type or somethin’?”

“Yup,” she returned, stepping back and swinging her linked hands slightly. “And he’s big too. Built like a gorilla, an’ covered in hair.”

“Heck, you better get in here ‘fore he catches us then!” He leant across and opened the door, barely waiting for her to step up before he was dragging her across the bench seat.

“Hmmm,” he murmured. His full, warm lips were a gift. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Chancy smiled and didn’t tell him that she had been doing the same; that she had probably failed her Math quiz because she had been thinking about how he had said goodnight to her outside her door the night before.

“Wait, what are you doing here?” she said instead, though her tone was warm. “Didn’t you get in enough trouble last week?”

Chancy had lost track of the times that Elvis’ boss had taken him aside and given him a stern talking to for veering off his delivery route to come see her, pick her up from school or for letting Chancy accompany him while he worked. Each time, Elvis would apologise and promise it would never happen again.

“I just made a delivery to a site near here,” he returned, looking overly innocent. “I swear it! And I thought I’d swing by and see if my sweet lil darlin’ needed a ride home. Gotta make sure she ain’t getting into another fellow’s car, don’t I.”

Chancy sighed and folded her arms, not wanting to go back through the horrible fight they had last week when Elvis had found out that a boy called Virgil from History class had dropped her at home because it was raining. He would have preferred her to be soaked through and then wrung out with pneumonia rather than accept a ride from another boy, even if she was not the only passenger in the car.

“Don’t pout,” he said, smushing his lips into her cheek and giving her lip-smacking kisses as he pulled her arms away from her waist. “I know I promised I weren’t gonna bring that up again.”

“Really, though, honey, you can’t keep getting into trouble over me. What if they fire you?”

“They won’t fire me, Cha-Cha! I do my work, I write out the paperwork good and I help out without complaining, even when I get all dirty and it damn near ruins my clothes. Besides, the way things are going with Scotty and Bill, we none of us’ll be needing our day jobs much longer.”

“You really think so?”

“I really knows so,” he returned, poking his tongue out at her playfully. “Big things are gonna happen, baby, I can feel it.”

Big things didn’t necessarily mean good things, Chancy reflected, and the foreboding cramp in her stomach seemed to agree with her. As much as she wanted Elvis to succeed, because she loved him desperately and knew how important his music was to him, she hated the thought of not being able to see him after work, and of those lonely weekends when he was away stretching into the weekdays.

Giving her one last noisy, wet kiss on the cheek, he started up the engine and pulled out into the traffic. When he was driving, she had more freedom to stare at him without him noticing, appreciating the way he watched the road so carefully, a little crease between his brows as he negotiated the traffic, his long fingers tapping rhythm to the music only he could hear.

“Hey, uh, you know, if we do come across anyone from work, you should probably duck down though, just in case,” he said, giving her a sideways look. She sighed and nodded.

Without looking, he reached across and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him like they were on a date rather than cruising around town in his work truck.

“I think the first thing I’m gonna do when I make it, after I pay off the bills and get Mama and Daddy a present, is buy you a ring,” he said casually, his eyebrow twitch belying his calm expression. “How’d you feel about diamonds, sweetheart?”

“I like diamonds,” she nodded, playing along. “They’re supposedly my birth stone.”

“Is that right? Huh. What’s mine?”

“Garnet,” she answered, far too quickly to pretend she hadn’t already looked it up. The smile that lit up his face as he noted that made her embarrassment almost worth it.

“Maybe we could find a ring that has both,” he said, shrugging and quickly extricating his arm so that he could shift gears. ”Me ‘n’ you together.”

“Forever,” she finished with a shy smile. He replaced his arm around her, squeezing her to him, and she gave him a playful nudge, not wanting his dirty overalls rubbing over her clothes. Though it was a hardship she’d endure for the warmth of him seeping through her skin.

“You gonna get all dressed up for me tonight, baby?” he asked, glancing at her as she rubbed at a dusty smudge on the shoulder of her blouse.

“For what?” she asked. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him, not when he hadn’t even asked her to come.

“For what,” he echoed in a high-pitched voice. “You forget about our show tonight?!”

“No, but I wasn’t invited so I didn’t realise I was going.”

“Cha-Cha, I don’t need to invite you!” he retorted. “You should want to be there!”

“I do, Elvis, but if you don’t invite me then I don’t know that you want me there!” She could hear her voice getting higher, turning her into a cartoon character that could be laughed at and dismissed, and her face flushed with anger. He didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the road ahead and his jaw set. All of a sudden, getting to watch him drive wasn’t as much as fun.

“Damn, there’s Mr Tipler, get down, Cha-Cha!” She was already dropping as he pressed his hand on the back of her neck, holding her head against his thigh. She adjusted her cheek against a crease in his pants and held her breath. A couple of minutes passed.

“Is he still there?” she asked, trying to turn her face against the heavy weight of his hand.

“Mmm hmm.” He sounded muffled and his hand flexed against her neck as she stretched it, trying to move her head along his leg to get more air. Another couple of minutes.

“Elvis, is he-” His hand was shaking. No, his whole body was shaking, convulsing almost with the force of his silent laughter. Mortification flooded through her as she realised that she was the source of his glee.

Rigid with fury, she slapped his hand away, swatting at herself in the process. She rose and slid back along the seat, her back smacking into the passenger door. Elvis reached out to her, but he was laughing too hard to apologise, or say much of anything at all, which infuriated her more.

“You tricked me!” she cried, hurt and embarrassed. “Now, why you gotta be so mean?”

“Baby, I- I was just playing!”

She smacked away his hand and he hastily pulled over, the truck bouncing against the kerb as he misjudged the distance, eyes barely watching what he was doing. A woman in a dark blue shirt-waist dress and matching cardigan jumped back from the edge of the sidewalk and gave them a dirty look.

Elvis grabbed Chancy by the waist as she opened the truck door and tried to scramble out.

“Baby, baby, no!” He was still laughing! “C’mon, I was just kidding around!”

Chancy slapped at his arm, finding that it helped make her feel a little better. When he grappled with her, pulling her back against him, she slapped a little harder. As he tried to turn her towards him, she raised her arm again and his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“No more, Cha-Cha,” he said firmly. Something in his eyes made her lower her hand, though she still didn’t yield to his grip.

“Look, I really thought I saw Mr Tipler,” he promised, his eyes shining with unspent mirth. “But then having your face in my lap like that-” A tinge of pink spread across his cheeks, emphasising the blue in his eyes. “-It just felt so good.” She inhaled sharply as he dove forward and pressed his face into the groove where her legs met beneath her skirt. She had no idea that people did such things to each other or why it felt so good. When he started shaking his head from side to side, her stomach clenched so hard she thought she might throw up or pass out.

“See how good it feels?” he asked shyly, his blush a deeper, dark red now and his hair falling from its very structured, carefully constructed style. She couldn’t look at him as she nodded brusquely.

“Forgive me?” he asked lightly, sitting up and cradling her cheek with his hand. “For all of it? I shoulda invited you, Cha-Cha. I thought I did, I swear.” Her face had already started to soften, it had no choice. “’Course I want my little baby out there in the audience looking up at me with her pretty little eyes-“ He pressed his lips softly against each of her brows. “And her pretty little nose…” He pecked the tip of her nose. “And her soft, pretty little mouth.”

Oh, his kisses. She felt him melt and become boneless in her arms as his lips kneaded hers, leading her by example as she sighed and succumbed to his wheedling. Every time she felt him sigh, she fell a little further in love with him, always dropping deeper into this never-ending hole.

A sharp tap on the window made them both start, teeth clashing, and they scrambled back from each other. A police officer was standing on the sidewalk, an ironic twist to his lips. He nodded his head slightly, telling them to move along. Elvis swallowed loudly and lifted his hand in acknowledgement as Chancy straightened her skirt over her legs and tried to smooth her hair back into its ponytail.

Back on the road, Elvis reached over and clasped her hand, squeezing it in a question. She squeezed it right back, because of course she forgave him, for the mean trick and the forgotten invitation. She forgave that, and everything that he would ever do, she imagined. That was the depth and breadth of her love for him. Didn’t mean that she wouldn’t make him suffer a little bit first though.

Outside her apartment building he left her after a brief, chaste kiss, mindful both of watchful eyes that would report straight back to her grandmother and that he should have been back from his delivery long before now. He told her that Scotty’s wife would be picking her up, which reassured her that he had apparently had it all planned, seemingly thinking that he had invited her.

A few hours later, she was waiting at the window when the glow of headlights lit up the flowery curtains she had made in Home Ec the year before. A second later, the horn blared. Chancy grimaced, knowing that Grandma would be complaining that all her friends in the building would think she was raising some loose woman the way that no one ever knocked on the door like respectful folk who were raised right.

The flinch in Grandma’s face as she skipped down the stairs in her tight new dress was all the confirmation she needed that she looked good. She clung to the bannister as she slipped on her heels, checking with her what time Mr Presley was picking her up. Usually, whenever she and Elvis would go out on a date, the Presleys would sweetly invite Grandma over for the evening to make sure she wasn’t lonely by herself. She got along well with Elvis’ grandmother and his mother, but had some reservations about his father which she expressed by saying nothing much about him at all.

Bobbie Moore smiled at her as she slid into the backseat and sweetly complimented her dress and hair, before going back to her conversation with Evelyn Black. The ladies were both older than her and had known each other longer. Chancy felt a little apart from them in the way that Elvis was a little apart from the band, except she didn’t have the benefit of being of any use to the women the way that Elvis, with his talent and front man good looks, was to the men.

“Oh,” Bobbie said over her shoulder during a lull in conversation, “Elvis told me to mention that he asked me to give you this ride last week. He said he set everything up but forgot to actually ask you to come to the show?”

“That’s what he says,” Chancy agreed with a closed-mouth smile.

“I’d be impressed he arranged anything,” Bobbie smiled. “He’s always going off at a hundred miles an hour, it’s a wonder he can get anything done. I swear Scotty has to wrangle him like a cross between a child and an excitable spaniel.”

The two women giggled in the front, but Chancy couldn’t quite muster a polite smile, it felt like a betrayal. Bobbie evidently noticed and quickly made a comment about how much he seemed to care for her.

The high school didn’t look much different from her own, same array of multi-paned windows across the front and pillars at the main entrance. Same yellowing lawn out front with worn tracks showing the most efficient footpaths to the external doors.

They melted into the throng of teenagers moving in waves towards the building, the air filled with the scent of aftershave, perfume and hormones. Chancy let the older women do the talking as they tried to find their men, feeling very young and strangely at home amongst the teenagers calling to their friends and talking loudly so that everyone could see how much fun they were having.

“Oh, thank God,” said Scotty when he caught sight of them coming down the corridor they had been directed to. “Tell me you brought the extra strings?” Bobbie rolled her eyes at the other women and fished a brown paper bag out of her purse.

“How’d you break a string before you even go on?” she asked, following him to the empty classroom they had been given as a dressing room.

“Not me,” Scotty muttered.

Chancy’s eyes fell on Elvis pacing at the back of the room, his back to them as he stared out the blackened windows at the lawn below. He glanced down at the floor, ran his hand down the back of his neck and then strode off in another direction for a few steps, before spinning and returning. It made Chancy’s blood bubble in sympathy at the anxiety he was exuding.

“Hi,” she murmured, weaving between the desks. He glanced up, eyes wide and mouth open in a way that made her heart clench, before smiling faintly.

“Hi.” He seemed paralysed in his loop and it wasn’t until she reached his side that he grabbed hold of her like she was his life preserver.

“You break a string?” she asked gently, trying to keep his attention on the room and not the swathes of people moving closer outside.

“Broke three. My fingers were shakin’ so bad I had to play that much harder to make a noise and, well, you see how that went.” She flattened his hand between hers, trying to press her faith in his ability into him, soothe him, but he couldn’t accept it. After a couple of seconds, he had to be on the move again too.

“The atmosphere is really good out there,” she told him. “They seem like a good crowd, they’re gonna love you.”

“Don’t-” He winced and stopped. “I got this pain up in my throat, Cha-Cha. What if I get up there and my voice is all but gone? I keep having that same dream over and over again, that I open my mouth and nothing comes out and everyone starts yellin’ and hollerin’. You know how sometimes some of my dreams come true and they happen-”

“It ain’t gonna happen,” she told him.

“But how d’you know?”

“Because I keep having a dream too. That I’m sitting in the audience at a show and we’re in some enormous auditorium, bigger than anything in Memphis, and you are on stage singing. Everyone in the audience is just crazy about you, cheering and clapping like you’re Frank Sinatra and Perry Como combined. And there’s little ole me sitting at the back, thinking about how I used to know you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he pulled her into his side to kiss her temple. She could see his skin glistening with sweat already and feel his body trembling.

“What do you think of the suit? It’s new.” She eyed the black jacket with pink lapels and cuffs and the baggy, pleated black pants with a pink stripe at the sides. Even his shoes had a small pink buckle.

“It’s real flashy,” she smiled. “It looks good on you.”

“Yeah, well,” he ducked his head, shaking his legs to adjust his pants leg, “I gotta wear something that gets their attention, you know. Especially after they hear me.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm, trying to hold him still.

“You look real handsome,” she said emphatically, her cheeks throbbing. “I’m gonna have to keep an eye on all those girls.”

They turned as Scotty called over. Even without looking at him, Chancy felt the electricity fizzling through Elvis, it made her own skin tingle. She squeezed his bicep hastily before rushing to join Bobbie and Evelyn as they tried to find their way through the labyrinthine halls to the school auditorium.

The auditorium had been covered in streamers and glittery decorations. There was a harvest theme with straw bales for seating and a big, painted, slightly blue moon that twinkled in the stage lighting. She wondered if that was how the boys had been booked, because of their name, and their record ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ so high in the country charts. She knew how those girls on the committees loved a theme.

Some high school kids who thought they were The Crewcuts were just leaving the stage after a mediocre cover of ‘Earth Angel’ and there was polite applause rippling about the space. Chancy clutched her hands together, imagining Elvis in the wings vibrating with adrenaline.

A young man, obviously popular from the catcalls and cheers from the audience, strode up to the microphone to introduce the group, calling them a ‘big up and coming act from the city that’s been driving the kids crazy’. There was a healthy level of applause and cheering as Elvis bounded out in his usual loose-limbed way, Scotty and Bill following. For a second, Elvis stood poised behind the microphone, looking up at the ceiling. Chancy glanced up, wondering what had caught his eye, but there was nothing but ceiling tiles.

“Well, have you heard the news, there’s good rockin’ tonight!”

It echoed around the hall like a siren. Chancy watched the looks on the faces of the kids as they started, they squinted, they frowned at the young man on the stage. There was a kind of pulse that was emanating from the stage and you could clearly see it rippling through the kids, who quickly began drifting closer, packing themselves together like they were drawn together by magnets.

By the time they got to Scotty’s first solo, some of the girls had begun to giggle and cry out, clutching at each other as if they couldn’t quite understand what was happening to them. The applause at the end was stronger and accompanied by a thick hum of murmuring. Chancy surveyed them with a small smile, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

With ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ it was the same thing all over again, since this song sounded so country that it threw the kids that thought they understood what they were watching. The girls got bolder and Chancy noted, ice beneath her skin, Elvis’ eyes darting down to the foot of the stage where they were congregating, his lip lifting into a gleeful sneer. But then she saw him as they did, this dangerous rockabilly rebel standing astride the stage above their heads, glistening like a god, and deigning to notice them. That look of adoration they were giving him, that unfocused want that was rising like steam from them, it just made him more beautiful, more otherworldly. They didn’t get to have him, because he was hers.

It was like a feedback loop, the more Elvis sang, crooned, and at one point growled, the more the girls shrieked and giggled. The more his legs shook and his baggy pants fluttered about his groin, the more the crowd bounced. It was always more, more, more. Chancy had seen it first, that vein of magic in him, and she felt vindicated now watching the realisation dawn in so many other eyes.

“Every time we see them it’s always a little wilder,” Bobbie remarked, gaze still on the stage. She definitely wasn’t looking at him like he was a cross between a child and an excitable spaniel now.

Chancy hesitated and then made up her mind, skipping towards the stage and ensconcing herself in the back of the close knit throng. She put her fingers to her lips and gave a whistle, joining in and adding to the chorus of screams that made Elvis’ smile spread wider as he bounced joyfully to the rhythm.

When he whirled off stage after the fourth number, half of the audience emptied out too. Chancy shot a look of astonishment at the other two, and they exchanged a glance before hurriedly following the tide.

Out in the parking lot, they found Bill and Scotty packing up while Elvis was held fast at the side of the car by a crowd of girls. He was scribbling autographs, hastily trying to keep up with demand and beaming. Some of the girls had little brownie cameras and Chancy snorted when she watched his smile drop into a sullen scowl as soon as they started to pose, doing his best James Dean impression.

Eventually, she drifted over to Scotty and Bill and their wives where they all muttered about who was going to be the one to break up the communion so that they could go and get something to eat.

After a while, Bill told the girls to head off to the diner because he was going to round up their errant singer and meet them there. As she settled herself in the back seat, Chancy watched Bill sail into the throng, a grin on his face as he reached over and mussed up Elvis’ hair. She winced and was glad that she wasn’t going to be around to see the outcome of that.

At the all-night diner back in Memphis, Chancy had already eaten a plate of fries by the time the bell tinkled and the boys entered in a bubble of loud talking and recklessly flailing limbs. Elvis’ hair was now falling over his face and he had Bill in a headlock, while Scotty was smiling faintly with that look in his face that he sometimes got, like he’d just like five minutes of peace and quiet away from the zoo.

“Where’s my food, woman?” Elvis demanded in a deep voice as he stared at her empty plate. Standing behind her, he grabbed at the front of her throat with his hands in a pincer. “Why, you good for nothin’-” She reached back and smacked the side of his thigh to get him to behave.

Bobbie rose with a sigh to go over to the counter to order more food, leaving the chair next to her empty. Elvis slid into it before she had even fully risen, goosing her a little. Chancy glared at him, even as he shrugged innocently, and Scotty raised unimpressed eyebrows. Forcefully ignoring their annoyance, he sat, his leg jiggling outrageously and making the table vibrate so hard that the salt and pepper shakers clinked against the napkin dispenser.

Chancy reached over and tried to rearrange his sweat soaked hair, but he batted away her assistance, pulling a comb from his shirt pocket and miraculously finding a shiny surface to use as a mirror like he had a built-in radar.

Once he was satisfied, he put away the comb and grabbed her hand off the table, examining her nails and fingers like he was about to be tested on them.

“See something interesting?” she asked.

“It’s just I’m so damned hungry,” he mumbled. “And they look so delicious…” He yanked them towards his mouth and she shrieked, writhing in his grip. He managed to get a sharp nip at the knuckle of her middle finger before she wrenched herself away.

“Behave yourself!” she hissed, but unable to stop grinning as she looked over to the counter.

“Baby, I can’t help it, I’m all keyed up. I wanna… I- Well, I don’t know what I wanna do, but whatever it is, I wanna do it bad!” His eyebrows quirked as his overly wide eyes zeroed in on her neck and he dove forward just as Bobbie returned with food.

Somehow, he managed to swerve at the last minute and he fell upon his burger and fries like a starving man. Bill, who was only just behind Elvis in the amount of mischievous energy he was exuding, tried reaching over to grab one of Elvis’ fries and got himself an elbow in the groin for his trouble.

The food settled them a little and they were able to analyse and reflect on the show as Chancy and the wives gave feedback, talking about what they saw in the crowd, the reactions of the girls and what was being said about them in the restrooms.

“We need to get some more photos, we’re nearly out,” Scotty told the other two men. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have more copies of our record. I had two people tell me that they couldn’t get it from the record store.”

“Goddamn it,” Elvis muttered, shoving fries sideways into his mouth. “What we gotta do, pay these chumps to put our damn record in their stores? Isn’t this why Sam’s always travelling around, trying to talk these… these fools into using their brains.” Chancy slid her hand onto his thigh and rubbed it comfortingly beneath the table.

“They don’t know what to do with it,” Bill shrugged. “It’s too hot and original for their tiny little minds to comprehend.

“Sam’s focusing on the next one,” Scotty reminded them. “We’re only as good as our latest record and he’s been all over the South pushing it with all his contacts.”

“Fat lot of good that does if no one can buy it,” Elvis snapped. He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the sound of himself wailing out, ‘Well, that’s all right, mama…” They turned to the jukebox where Bill gave them a ‘ta da�� gesture and a grin.

“You know, that’s him,” Bill told the disinterested cook behind the counter, who eyed them with yellowing, cloudy eyes. “Don’t s’pose we can pay our bill with an autographed picture? Up and coming star right here, I heard it on good authority from a high school kid all dressed up in his daddy’s suit tonight.”

Elvis threw one of Scotty’s fries at him and ducked down, unable to disguise how his face and neck had coloured up. He leant in, nudging Chancy’s shoulder, trying to hide in the crook of her neck.

After their food, they split up, Scotty, Bill and their wives took Bobbie’s car, while Elvis and Chancy were in the Lincoln. She prayed they would make it back, her dress was not cut for pushing cars.

Elvis was still twitchy, but he had quietened down, back to being regularly fidgety and nervous rather than like he was about to take off into outer space. He tapped his fingers along with the radio, even when the reception cut out and it was just static. Chancy dozed next to him, starting every time he swatted her thigh to wake her up.

When they reached the door of her apartment, Chancy hesitated. Despite how late it was, she didn’t feel it was time to say goodnight. She had barely had him to herself for more than a minute all night.

“You know,” she began, watching him touch the brass numbers on her door, scuff his shoe against the worn tile and shake his leg slightly, all the while tap tapping away on his thigh with his fingertips.

She tried again: “You know, Grandma is probably fast asleep by now. If we’re quiet…” His eyes snapped to hers and she would have betrayed her grandmother’s trust a thousand times over for the wave of joy that passed through her body.

“Yeah, I-I-I should probably check and make sure everything is on the up and up for you ladies. I mean, you can’t be too careful, could be monsters under your bed, spiders in your bathtub... What kind of man would I be if I let my woman face all these dangers alone?”

“You coulda just said yes, you know,” she returned, shaking her head. He nuzzled her in answer, forcing her to try not to squeal as she oh-so-carefully unlocked the door.

Clutching each other’s hand like nervous burglars, they crept through the tiny kitchen and into the narrow hall. Chancy paused at her grandmother’s door, but heard nothing.

It felt borderline criminal closing her own door, hiding them from sight. Whenever Elvis visited, ‘Grammy’ as he called her, insisted on being able to see them at all times.

“He’s a nice boy,” she had told Chancy after she recovered from the flashy clothes and the truck driver’s haircut. “A real nice, polite boy, but there’s something else about him, some touch of mischief that I just wanna keep my eye on.”

Eyes adjusting to the moonlit shadows, Chancy watched him cautiously approach her bed and pick up the framed photo on her nightstand. Not the one of him that Mr Neal had arranged to be done for publicity and that Elvis had given her a copy of with a secret message scrawled on the back. No, he picked up the blurry, worn picture of a man in a white suit with his arms around a dark-haired, shapely woman. Their faces were almost as featureless and white as milk with wear and Chancy’s faded memories could no longer fill in the blanks.

Elvis replaced the frame reverently and then turned back to her. The moonlight glowed in his eyes and smile. He bent down and checked under her bed for monsters.

“All clear!” he informed her in an exaggerated whisper. Then his eye caught something else that he reached down and swiped up. Chancy’s cheeks flushed.

Grandma was old fashioned and thought that music and movies were sent by the devil to distract impressionable minds from the Lord. She allowed Chancy to go to the movie theatre on dates and to own a few records, but there was strict accounting going on, weighing the devil’s distraction against church and bible study.

“What you got this hidden down here for?” Elvis asked, looking confused. He flicked through the movie magazine as if looking for clues, but returned to the front cover where Eddie Fisher was posing politely with a telephone as if he had just been interrupted taking a call. “Eddie Fisher?!” He raised an eyebrow like he was teasing her, but he wasn’t smiling. She rushed over and tried to snatch the magazine from his unyielding hands.

“Grandma don’t like me having movie magazines,” she whispered in a rush. “Elvis, give it back!”

“How long has this thing with Fisher been going on, huh? Does Debbie know?”

“Ha, ha.” Elvis was glaring at the picture, studying it like he was sizing up his competition. “Really now, I am not gaga over Eddie Fisher. The only boy I have eyes for is a much better singer, and dreamier too.”

“Oh god, who now?! Wait, you are talking about me, right?”

She shoved him as he grinned smugly, but he grabbed her hands and pulled her down with him onto the bed. They were entwined and kissing as easily and as quickly as gravity.

Elvis’ body, its hard planes and soft curves, still felt like foreign territory no matter how many times and how many ways she ran her hands over it. Even his dark blue eyes, when they devoured her with that fierce hunger, sometimes seemed like they belonged to a stranger. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. When he told her, as he did over and over, that he loved her, she understood that he meant it and still didn’t believe him at all.

Straddling his lap as she knelt on the bed, she shifted her weight to get leverage and then ground down onto him, eliciting that helpless boyish moan from him that always got her in the gut.

Too late, she pushed her palm against his mouth, breathlessly whispering for him to be quiet. He groaned a hot, muffled protest as she rolled her hips again and she could feel him, hard and eager beneath the pleats of his pants. He grabbed her hand in his, pulling it away from his mouth as he pressed his soft lips into her palm.

“Wait, baby, wait. We gotta stop… We should stop,” he whispered. He was right of course, but it didn’t mean that she wanted to hear him or listen. She kneaded her lips against the flickering of his pulse in his throat, smelling the faint remnants of his cologne, soap and the haze of his Vaseline hair oil. It was a heady mix of ‘Elvis’, the best smell in the world.

“Hey!” he snapped, hoarse but still quiet. “You ain’t being fair! You’ll get me all heated and worked up and then you’ll tell me to stop. And one day I ain’t gonna be able to stop!”

Chancy shivered and wished, through clenched teeth, that today would be that day. Her grandmother was wrong, that glint of mischief that she saw in Elvis was just a tiny reflection of what radiated from Chancy herself.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, forcing herself to stay still in his lap, fighting the urge to swivel her hips and press into him. “Forgive me?” He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth, and squashed her cheeks between his palms.

“You drive me crazy, you cruel baby, but I forgive you. I’ll always forgive ya.”

“Not always,” she refuted. “How about if I went off with another boy?” He was quiet for a moment and, even more unnerving, still.

“No, you’re right,” he said in a small, uncomfortable voice. “God, why’d you even put that in my head?”

Chancy knew why, because she always needed to push the limits, see how far love and acceptance would stretch until they snapped, and they always snapped.

“I don’t know, it was stupid. And it’ll never happen.” She clasped her fingers together at the back of his neck and turned his head so that they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “I would never do that, because I love you more than anything else in the world.” His small smile made his cheekbones curve in a delicious way.

“More than Eddie Fisher?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Eddie who?”

“Eddie who better be right!” He squeezed the back of her neck as he kissed her with a dramatic, almost aggressive flourish, and then shoved her sideways off his lap and onto the bed. It creaked so loud that it should have woken up half the building, and they froze, staring at each other with wide eyes.

They waited a full, endless minute for sounds of movement or a light being turned on in the hall. When it didn’t come, they dissolved, giggling as they curled up together on the mattress.

At first, Elvis spooned her, the cradle of his hips fitting perfectly against the curve of her backside and his arm pillowing her neck. She could feel the bulge of him poking her in her butt cheek and it took all her willpower not to push back. After he had complained in a whisper about her hair tickling his nose, and had ground his groin apparently involuntarily against her, he huffed out a soft ‘Goddamnit’ and almost threw himself onto his other side, his back to her. She only had a second to miss the warmth before he was reaching back and tugging her arm, pulling her against him.

“You have to leave before Grandma wakes up,” she said directly into his ear, grinning as he shuddered and pressed in her hand that he was holding to his chest. “Elvis, y’hear? I mean it.”

“I hear ya, I hear ya.” She forced herself to relax, listening to his breathing as she simultaneously felt it against her hand. His heart was a steady, reassuring thump.

After a while, she pressed a little closer to him and whispered:

“Imagine being able to sleep like this every night.” Her heart felt swollen and tight with love for him, so much so that just thinking of forever made her eyes sting with hopeful tears. “Elvis?” She tried to loosen her grip on him in order to prop herself up, but he wouldn’t release her, just murmured and squeezed tighter.

Just imagine, forever.

Chancy woke in a start, feeling the panic before she even came to. Morning. Grandma. Elvis!

She tried to sit up, but the hands encircling her waist were determined, and all their focus was on holding her in place. She was so busy trying to free herself that she didn’t notice what else was going on until a warm, throaty moan tickled her ear. She froze.

Elvis was like a wall of heat behind her, making her clothes damp and creased as he pressed and rubbed against her. Her stomach clenched and roiled with panic and desire and she tilted her hips, catching his groin as he rolled into her.

“Baby, you awake?” he whispered hoarsely, adjusting his grip on her, grabbing at her hipbone so tightly that she knew it would leave bruises.

“What time is it?” she mumbled, squinting at the curtains, trying to determine whether the halo around them came from the moon or the sun.

“I-I don’t know. God, baby, I-I need you so bad. Can- can I?”

Chancy was not certain what he was asking, but just his tone made her skin ripple with goosebumps. She turned in his arms and found that looking up into his face was a revelation. His cheeks were deep pink and his lips looked swollen and red, hanging open as he stared at her; thick lashes drooping over his half-open eyes. She had never seen him with messy hair, he spent so long fussing over it, combing it if even one tendril fell out of place, but now it fell over his forehead and stuck up in spikes at the side and he didn’t seem to care.

Chancy gasped as he ducked down and kissed her, fiercely mashing his lips against hers. She didn’t recognise this boy, this shaking, dishevelled man writhing in her bed and wrinkling her sheets. His long-fingered hand slid down her blouse, unfastening the tiny buttons with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. He pulled her against him, the button on his shirt pocket scraping her nipple even through her cotton bra, but his hands didn’t stay at her back for long, scrambling down to fuss over the folds of her skirt, tugging it up.

“Elvis, honey, wait!” she gasped when he finally released her mouth to catch his own breath. “We can’t, we-“

“We can,” he murmured, unravelling the material wrapped around her legs. “Baby, we should. I-I-It’s time, it’s time.” She was trying to push down her skirt even as he was lifting it, tangling his legs with hers.

“You said we should wait,” she pleaded, quickly losing her fighting spirit as he nuzzled and breathed hot and heavy against her neck. “For when we’re married.”

“We’re gonna be together forever,” he insisted. “We already know it.” She giggled; his words were slurred and mumbled like he couldn’t quite think straight and his addled mind was pouring out syllables, hoping some of them would be useful.

It made her feel powerful to have brought him to this level of mindlessness. No one else, not the girls that screamed at the foot of the stage, not the beautiful singers that sometimes toured with him, or the experienced girls with their heavy make-up and tight, revealing clothing that somehow made it backstage and always knew which motel he was staying in. No, no one else, just Chancy.

“Okay,” she whispered, cupping his face. “Okay.” He stared at her intently, looking almost lost, before he seemed to register what she had said and gave a little nod.

In one fluid movement, he was on top of her, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. The bed creaked ominously and Chancy froze, not least because Elvis was leaning on her hair.

“Ow, Elvis, you’re-”

“What? Oh, sorry.” He lifted his hand, not realising the hand he now had all his weight on was also on top of her hair.

“Oh my- Oh God, Elvis, my hair!” He hastily drew back onto his knees, straddling her and looking sheepish.

Realising that it was all going terrible wrong, she stared back at him, flooded with disappointment and consternation. There was a beat before they both broke, sniggering and blushing at their awkwardness.

“Oh damn,” he grinned bashfully into his palm, running his tongue over his teeth. “Great job, Elvis. Real smooth.”

Chancy ran her hand up his thigh, her fingers trembling over the taut muscle.

“Honey, we could still-“ she began, even as he shook his head.

“No, no, you were right what you said, baby, we should wait. It’ll be better if we wait. Special.”

“Maybe I’ll get my haircut for the wedding,” she mused dryly, trying not to focus on the disappointment settling in her stomach.

“Don’t you dare!” He leaned forward, practically on all fours over her, and wrapped her dark hair around his finger. “I show up at the church and don’t see all these curls, I’m outta there!”

“You think I won’t have someone there ready to lock the door as soon as you show up?” she teased, reaching up to smooth back the hair above his ear.

“Hmm, cruel woman,” he murmured, eyes dropping to her lips and telegraphing his thoughts. “You think you don’t already have me locked up? I- I can’t think of nothing else but you, baby.”

“Aw, that sounds just awful,” she smirked, stretching up to catch his lips. “Forgive me?”

“Always,” he mumbled into her mouth.

Spring 1973

The phone was ringing. Chancy threw out a hand to grab at the receiver, but her hand only waved about in the air because she wasn’t in her own bed. She opened her eyes, waiting for her vision to unblur. The phone stopped ringing and immediately began again.

“Hello?”

“Thank Christ! I was beginning to wonder if you were alive!”

“Joe?”

“Yeah! Two thirty wake-up call, remember? Least it was fifteen minutes ago.”

“Sorry, Elvis gave me a pill.” She wiped her hand down her face; it felt numb, foreign.

“Okay. Get up.”

“What?”

“You need to get out of bed. If you don’t, you’ll go straight back to sleep the minute you hang up.”

She lifted the receiver from her ear and peered into it as if Joe would be able to discern that she was not exactly in a situation when she could leap out of bed. Elvis’ head was tucked under her chin and his arms were wrapped around her. Even her feet were entangled with his legs.

“Uh, okay.” Then she was glad that he was not able to see through the receiver, because she had to slither and writhe to free herself, tumbling onto the floor with zero grace. “I’m out of bed.”

“Good. I’ll be there to get you in forty-five minutes.”

“Wait, what do I do about Elvis?”

“How d’you mean?”

“How do I wake him up?”

“Hit him. Hard, but don’t leave a mark, ‘specially not on the face.”

“Helpful, thanks,” she said to the dial tone.

Chancy started off light, shaking him, but it barely registered. So, then she patted him, getting progressively harder until she was hitting his shoulder with a closed fist.

“Oh, Lord,” she murmured. The clock now said two fifty-five and she hadn’t even started dressing. She tapped his cheek and, finally, his face flickered. Emboldened, she did it again, but there was no reaction this time. Out of options, she slapped him with her fingers, hard enough to make a noise. His face creased up and he squinted at her through dark, slitted eyes.

“Why are you hitting me?” he asked, or at least that was the vague sound that came out with some half-enunciated words.

“Oh, wakey wakey!” she trilled. “Time to wake up, sweetheart!”

He let his hand drop onto his face and grunted as he tried to pull himself up into a seated position, managing about halfway. Chancy waited anxiously to make sure the red mark on his cheek would fade away.

By three fifteen, she was dressed and washed, though not exactly looking her glamorous best. She had pulled her hair into a loose bun and just darkened her eyes to try and look more awake. It wasn’t like hospitals had a dress code.

“You slapped me round my face!” Elvis said accusingly as she emerged from the bathroom. He was still sitting up in bed, though he seemed closer to consciousness than not.

“No, you must have been dreaming,” she replied quickly. The mark was gone now and she had a new appreciation for Ricky’s skills.

“That ain’t something I’d dream about,” he returned, throwing back the covers. He eased himself up carefully and she paused, wondering if she should go to his side to make sure he didn’t lose his balance or stumble. She tried to seem casual as he fumbled and felt his way to the bathroom door.

“Um, baby? Joe’ll be here in a bit. You want me to get you anything before I go?”

“Go? I’m coming with you,” he replied, frowning at her as though she was speaking a different language.

Chancy’s reaction to that was complicated. She was touched that he wanted to, but knew there was no way that he would be ready to leave the room in fifteen minutes. Then there was the logistics of it. How could Elvis Presley walk into a hospital in the middle of nowhere and not cause chaos and mayhem? What seemed like a simple trip to the doctor had suddenly turned into a production.

“That’s really sweet, honey, but you don’t have to do that,” she said, crossing the room to him. His intense gaze followed her, so that by the time she was in front of him, she was feeling a little warm.

“It ain’t a negotiation,” he returned, his mouth stumbling over the syllables. “You ain‘t going without me.”

Joe knocked at exactly three thirty, but seemed completely unsurprised and unperturbed when she said that they had to wait for Elvis.

“I always allow a cushion of at least twenty minutes when I give him a time,” he revealed with a grin.

“You knew he was coming?” Chancy asked.

“Sure. I think it’s pretty obvious by now that he doesn’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

Chancy’s stomach clenched with apprehension at that observation. It gave her too little power and too much responsibility. She was an idiot in relationships, and she bumped into people’s feelings blindly and repeatedly. Nowadays, she liked her freedom too much and suffocated under the expectations of others. She was too much like her father, who had broken so many hearts without even knowing. Now here she was being presented with the most fragile heart of all. No, not presented, tossed it without warning, and she knew her butter fingers were going to fumble it no matter how carefully she tried to cradle it.

They were exactly twenty minutes behind schedule when Elvis emerged from the bathroom clad in black, the jacket of his karate gi showing underneath his coat, and wearing dark tinted sunglasses. While she was dressed to do a chore, he looked like he was prepared to go on TV, which was the way he always looked when he left the confines of his room. She had long ago stopped musing on how irritating and time-consuming that must be for him, to know that he always had to look his best even if he was just going to a doctor’s appointment.

“Morning, Boss, how you doing?” Joe asked, rising to open the door for them as Elvis came to Chancy’s side.

“Well, my day started with being belted round the face, so I’m hopin’ it’ll improve,” he returned, shooting Chancy a sideways look. He seemed more confused and amused than annoyed, but Chancy could still feel her cheeks heating.

“I still say you dreamed that,” she said.

“And I still say you’re full of shit,” he returned, sliding his fingers between hers. He hissed softly, swearing under his breath.

“What is it?” He grimaced and lifted their clasped hands so that she could see the back of his. His knuckles were grazed and split, and the skin around them was swollen dark from where he had been punching the wall the night before. “Oh, baby.”

She tried to release his hand, but his fingers tightened around hers, so she raised their hands to her lips and pressed them lightly against the sore area.

“Well, at least we’re heading to the right place!” Joe observed. She wondered if he was really as unflappable as he made out and, if so, what kind of craziness had he seen to make him so.

It felt a little like heading for a show. They rode the service elevator down to the kitchens and made their way out of the rear entrance of the hotel where a car was waiting for them with a driver and Red sitting in the passenger seat. Two or three people were waiting at the entrance of the car park and, as they emerged from the building, Chancy heard them yelling:

“He’s here! He’s here!”

“No, he ain’t,” Elvis mumbled under his breath, before raising a hand and waving to them as they got into the car.

“What would you do,” Chancy asked out of curiosity, “if you went somewhere and no one blinked an eye like you were just a regular person?”

“It happens,” he returned, a defensive edge to his voice like he thought she was making fun of him somehow. “It’s not like I expect it all the time.”

“The worst times are when we think it’s okay, but then one person notices he’s there and raises the alarm,” Red interjected, half turned in his seat. “Happened once when we went to a karate tournament. Whispers started going round, people started getting out of their seats to ask for autographs and what have you. And I’m sitting there sweating bullets thinking I gotta keep him safe in a place filled with fucking karate masters.”

“Remember that theatre in Florida when we were there shooting that movie?” Joe put in. “We went to see a show one night and during the intermission, we got swarmed and the fire marshal had to shut the whole place down. Called it a health and safety hazard.”

“The point is I don’t go out looking for it,” Elvis insisted to her, as if they hadn’t spoken. “It’s not like I need it for my ego or anything like that.”

“Okay,” she murmured softly, nodding to show that she understood, because he seemed very intent on making that clear to her.

“Hey, remember when we thought we got away with it in Hawaii?” Red laughed, breaking the slightly awkward silence. “Went to a restaurant and no one blinked an eye. Order our food, nothing. Ate and hung out without a murmur. Then, when we got up to leave the entire restaurant damn near gave us a standing ovation. That was weird as shit!”

“Have you guys ever asked someone for their autograph or got starstruck meeting someone?” she asked the other two men, since Elvis was staring out of the window and chewing on his thumbnail, not exactly inviting conversation. She wondered if she had prodded a sore spot with her question and if so, how to soothe his hurt feelings.

“Don’t know about starstruck… You start to realise pretty quickly that famous people are pretty much just people,” Joe mused.

“Some can be complete asses, right, E?” Red remarked. “Remember Brando?” Elvis blinked and pulled a face like he smelt something disgusting.

“Aw, don’t remind me about that sonovabitch. Broke my damn heart.” He looked down at her, his eyes warm and intimate again, reassuring her. “You remember how much I dug that cat- We must have seen his movies fifty times a piece. Knew all the lines.”

“’Well, what d’ya do? I mean, do you just ride around or do you go on some sort of picnic or something?’” Chancy recited in a breathy voice, making her eyes wide. His smile grew and he poked his tongue between his teeth.

“’A picnic? Man, you are too square…’” He dipped down, pressing his nose to hers. “Anyway, we met him one time. I think in 1958?” He raised an eyebrow at Joe, who nodded in confirmation. “And he was just the rudest, most condescending motherfucker. Acting like he was hot shit and we were hillbilly hicks ruining his day. I swore to myself I weren’t ever gonna be like that.”

“Well, who was the nicest star you ever met?”

“Tom Jones was pretty friendly right from the off,” Red reflected.

“Sammy Davis Jr is a cool guy,” Joe shrugged. She looked to Elvis, but he shrugged and demurred, saying most people were okay. There was something about the offhand way he said it that let her know there was something he wasn’t saying.

“You cannot think of one non-beautiful non-female celebrity right now, can you,” she teased. He licked his lips sheepishly and grinned.

“My mind went blank,” he admitted, running his tongue over his teeth. “I panicked!”

“You goof! Okay, including the beautiful ladies, who was the nicest?”

“This ain’t a trick, is it? Already been slapped once today…”

“Don’t do it, man,” Red murmured under his breath. She raised an eyebrow and faked a scowl.

“Well,” he sighed as he arched his back and adjusted his belt buckle, “Sophia Loren was real sweet and Ann-Margret’s a darling; Nancy Sinatra… Oh! Cary Grant! He’s a nice guy.”

“Congratulations, you thought of one man,” she laughed. He nuzzled into the side of her head as if testing her word, checking she wasn’t mad. She rubbed his thigh in answer.

The car took a sharp right turn down a wide alleyway and pulled up behind a store that was most certainly not a hospital.

“What’s going on? You taking me to the vet instead?” she quipped, confused by Elvis’ little smirk as they all climbed out.

“I just gotta make a quick stop,” he replied, reaching for her hand again.

Red banged on the worn security door and a small window opened, before the door was thrown open. A small, slight, older man in a suit beamed at them, ushering them into the dark interior.

When Chancy’s eyes adjusted, she registered that they were in a jewellery store. An older woman in what looked like her best dress was standing by the register also beaming like she had won an award, which all store owners must have felt whenever Elvis Presley walked in.

“Hello, Mr Presley, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to our store,” the man said, sounding adorably nervous as he shook Elvis’ hand. “My name’s Len and this is my wife Phyliss.”

“It’s good to be here, sir,” Elvis replied, head on a swivel. “You got some fine pieces.” He stepped back to take Phyllis’ hand and give her a peck on the cheek. “Hi, dear. We can’t stay long, because we got an appointment, but I think I’ll be back here next time we’re out this way.”

Len nodded and gestured to the counter where he had laid out a black velvet cover on top of which lay a dazzling selection of gold and sparkling diamonds. Elvis stepped up, squinting as he removed his sunglasses, his fingers immediately reaching to touch.

“Cha-Cha, c’mere, baby,” he murmured. Holding out a hand without looking. “What d’you think? Anything that catches your eye?”

“Of course, it’s all really pretty,” she nodded, nonplussed.

“Okay, looks like we’ll just be taking all of it,” Elvis told Len, gesturing for them to ring it up.

“What, no!” she exclaimed in a panic. Vernon Presley would have her shot! Elvis laughed gleefully like a little kid and swept his hand along the treasures.

“Then pick something, you silly girl! You ain’t quite woken up yet, have you, honey.” She frowned at him and then down at the array, her fingers hovering over a ring with a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds.

“Are you sure?” she asked. He looked confused for a minute, then his face softened, and he reached up and rubbed the skin between her brows, smoothing her frown.

“What calls to you?” he asked quietly, intimately, like they weren’t being watched by a handful of people. She searched his face, looking into his murky blue eyes, trying to understand what she was saying to him if she did as he asked, what she was forgiving, and what she was promising.

“I told you I’d buy you diamonds,” he murmured, giving her a wink. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she was assailed by guilt and shame for immediately wondering how she was being manipulated instead of appreciating the gesture for what it was.

“You’ve already kept that promise several times over,” she replied, thinking of the expensive gifts and surprises he had bestowed upon her over the years.

“And I’m gonna keep on keepin’ it.” She was about to lay her hand upon the sapphire when something else caught her eye, not on the velvet, but in the cabinet below.

“Does it have to be one of these?” she asked. He rolled his eyes and muttered about awkward women.

“Why, what you seen, honey?”

She pointed at the glass at the small, tasteful oval garnet stone haloed by diamonds. Len immediately crouched down behind the counter and drew out the pillow it was sitting on. Chancy smiled at it, feeling Elvis’ eyes burning into her face as she tried it on. It was a little big for her ring finger on her right hand, but it fit the middle finger perfectly.

“We’ll take this, please, Sir,” Elvis murmured, before leaning across the counter and snatching up three or four other rings like he was collecting seashells at the beach. He caught her look and shrugged bashfully. “What? You can’t just buy one ring, your other fingers’ll get jealous.”

Well, that explained a lot, Chancy reflected. Elvis turned down the offer to wrap up the other rings, asking for the boxes to be put in a bag, but insisting on holding them in his hand.

Before she could turn to follow Red and Joe, he grabbed her good hand and turned her back, sliding a ring onto as many fingers as he could.

“Elvis, I can’t, I-“ She stopped herself, catching the uncertainty as it flickered on his face. “Baby, they are so beautiful, it’s a little overwhelming. Thank you!”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her into him a little too long for a thank you hug. She relaxed, stroking his back and feeling him swallow against her shoulder. She could hear what he was asking, the way he always used to in his playful little baby voice. She gripped him as tight as she could in answer.

_____________________________________________________________

AN: A huge thank you to my alpha reader @thatbanditqueen, who makes all things better.

Shout out to the wonderful authors/LE detectives and prolific nighttime messagers @be-my-ally, @ellie-24, @vintageshanny, @missmaywemeetagain, and @from-memphis-with-love

A huge thanks to @lookingforrainbows for the baby elvis pic avalanche, you're a treasure!

@richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber, @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters, @18lkpeters, @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics, @eliseinmemphis

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