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childrenofcain-if · 1 month ago

Note

Happy Spooky Season, Axel! This might be a little unusual but with the spirit of Halloween coming up, how would the ROs react to MC being a werewolf?

Maybe it can happen in a camping trip, similar to The Quarry? Maybe not separately bcuz I would love to see how they handle it as a group, but I won't complain with individual reactions either. Do whatever would be more comfortable, dear Author. Happy Halloween in advance!

rural connecticut had a way of making everyone feel a little uneasy. perhaps it was the countless urban legends people told around it, perhaps it was the way that the state was where the nation’s first witch trials occurred—three decades before they happened infamously in salem, massachusetts.

the air was crisp with the sort of chill that lingered in your bones but didn’t quite feel threatening yet. the fire crackled softly as you stoked it, watching the flames flicker against the growing dusk. everyone was scattered around the camp, still settling into the space.

D was busy doing what they did best—getting under C’s skin with sarcastic jabs, teasing them about the way they kept folding and refolding the map as if it would magically change the directions. M, ever the stoic one, was trying to ignore them, but you could see the slight twitch of their lip, an indication that D was close to getting on their last nerve.

V was standing beside you, hands in their pockets, looking vaguely amused by the whole scene. W, on the other hand, just shook their head and smiled, the picture of someone used to D’s antics by now. it was a strange mix, this group—too many strong personalities in one place—but it worked. everyone knew their role, how far to push, when to back off. at least most of the time.

D had started flicking small rocks at C’s back and making loud, obnoxious comments about how they were overpacking again. “C, honestly, it’s a camping trip, not a three-week expedition. You don’t need an entire suitcase for a weekend.”

C shot D a venomous look from over their shoulder, folding the map they’d been fussing over with a little more force than necessary. “keep it up, and you’ll be sleeping outside the tent tonight.”

“i’d love that, thanks,” D fired back, their smirk relentless.

you fed the fire another branch, staring into the flames as V leaned closer.

“you’re quiet,” they said, voice so soft that it was almost drowned out by D’s exaggerated laugh in the background.

you shrugged. “just thinking about all the coursework i still have waiting for me when we get back. feels like i should be doing something instead of sitting here.”

V smiled, the kind that crinkled the corners of their warm brown eyes. “it’s a holiday. you’re supposed to be relaxing. the work will still be there when you get back.”

M wandered over, looking unusually tense. “you lot heard about the wild predators around here lately?”

you glanced up, the firelight reflecting in M’s eyes, giving their worry an edge.

“what do you mean?” V asked, straightening up.

M ran a hand through their hair. “there have been some sightings—wolves, maybe coyotes—attacking other animals around these parts. i was checking for some news around the area and it showed up on my phone.”

D chimed in before anyone could respond. “oh, come on, your highness. it’s connecticut. we’re not in the middle of the appalachian region or yellowstone. we’ll be fine. plus, this place was ranked one of the best camping spots in the state. we’re practically in a five-star resort.” their grin was wide and mischievous, but you noticed the slight edge to it, a crack in the usual rodomontade.

W, usually the voice of reason when M couldn’t be, spoke up next. “we’ll stick together either way. there’s strength in numbers. we’ve got a fire, flashlights, and C brought a hunting rifle. if anything comes near us, we’ll handle it.” they squeezed M’s shoulder reassuringly.

but M’s worry lingered in the air, a quiet tension settling over the group despite W’s calm reassurance. you noticed it—the way M kept glancing at the treeline, how they kept rubbing their arms like the air had turned cold with every passing minute.

you had nodded in agreement with W, trying to push away the strange feeling that had settled over you. It was probably nothing. this was just camping—people did it all the time. and yet, something about the stillness of the woods, the way the sun was sinking so fast behind the trees, left you uneasy.

as the sun sank lower and the sky shifted from blue to deep indigo, you all gathered around the fire for dinner. D had somehow managed to snag a pack of white claws, and C cracked open a can of pepsi, glaring at D as if it was their fault no one had thought to bring more non-alcoholic options.

the fire felt like a buffer between you and the world, the flickering light casting shadows over the campsite. the mood was light, despite the earlier worries. cheeriness spilled out from the group in bursts, warming the cool night air. but as the conversation started to smooth out more, a sound rose up from the woods behind you—a long, eerie howl, distant but unmistakable.

it came from far off at first, just a faint sound on the wind, but it was enough to make everyone pause, the laughter dying in your throats. V’s eyes darted toward the tree line, and M’s face went pale.

“that’s probably just—” D started, but their voice faltered, betraying the nervousness beneath the joke. “i mean, it’s probably some sort of a mating call, right?”

no one answered.

then, another howl. closer this time. too close.

W stood up, their face pale, hands clenching nervously. “we should probably—”

“i’m getting the rifle,” C interrupted, standing abruptly. their face was tight, their jaw set, as if they were angry more than scared. “whatever’s out there, i’ll scare it off.”

“we should all go with you,” M said quickly, grabbing their flashlight. “like W said, strength in numbers, right?”

everyone nodded, uneasy but moving in unison, as if drawn by the same invisible thread. you grabbed your flashlight, the cold metal heavy in your palm, and followed as C led the way into the woods.

the flashlights carved weak paths through the dark, illuminating only fragments of the trees and underbrush. every step felt wrong, like the forest had swallowed you whole. you could hear the rustle of leaves, the crunch of dead branches, but no animals. no insects. it was too quiet, and the silence buzzed in your ears.

“where are all the animals?” M whispered, their voice barely more than a breath.

and then, just as you turned to respond, there was a sound—a low, guttural growl, so deep it seemed to shake the ground beneath your feet.

it came from behind you.

you froze, heart slamming against your ribs. the others turned in slow motion, flashlights swinging wildly through the dark, their beams landing on a pair of glowing yellow eyes. the creature was huge, hulking, its fur bristling in the cold air, muscles rippling beneath its skin. it wasn’t a coyote. it wasn’t even a wolf, not really. it was something else, something too large, too wild, too impossible.

“shit! C, get your fucking rifle no—” D exclaimed, but the creature was already moving. in one fluid motion, it lunged toward your group, its teeth bared and its claws extended.

without thinking, you shoved W out of the way, just as the creature’s jaws snapped inches from their face. before you could react, you felt the searing pain of teeth sinking into your arm, claws ripping through your skin as the creature dragged you backward into the underbrush.

the world seemed to wobble around you, the flashlight slipping from your grasp as you screamed, thrashing against the weight of it. the burning, tearing pain spread like wildfire through your body, but the more you fought, the deeper its teeth sunk into your skin.

“shoot it! C, shoot it!” V’s voice cracked, desperate, as they, D, and M scrambled to pull you free.

there was a crack—a gunshot—and the creature jerked back, snarling in pain. C had fired, the rifle smoking in their hands. the beast staggered, blood dripping from its shoulder, before it let go of you and fled into the night, vanishing into the trees as quickly as it had appeared.

you were left on the ground, panting, clutching your arm as the pain pulsed in waves, so sharp and overwhelming you could barely breathe. blood soaked through your shirt and jacket, your vision swimming in and out of focus as the others rushed to your side, their voices a blur of panic and urgency.

“oh shit, oh fuck,” W rambled, dropping down beside you, their eyes filling with tears and panic. “hold on, we’ll need to get you to a hospital. now.”

nobody argued. they packed up the camp in minutes, the fire doused, gear thrown haphazardly into the car. you were half-conscious by the time they bundled you into the backseat, your arm throbbing in time with your heartbeat, every movement sending fresh spikes of pain through your body. you could feel the blood seeping through the makeshift bandages they’d wrapped around your arm, could hear D’s voice, low and tight, muttering curses under their breath as they sped toward the nearest hospital and probably broke many speed limits.

but beneath the pain, beneath the terror, there was something else. a heat. something wild and feral curling low in your chest, spreading through your veins, something you couldn’t name but felt terrifyingly real.

***

the fever started small. just a dull, persistent heat behind your eyes that made you squint against the light of the hospital room. at first, you thought it was something else, something ordinary—a delayed reaction to the bite. the doctors had warned about infection. C had been furious, pacing the length of the small room with that same tight look they always got when they were trying not to say something filled with rage. they were pissed, but more at themselves than anyone else. they’d been the one to insist on bringing the rifle, after all. M kept a hand on your forehead, their fingers cool against your overheated skin, and whispered reassurances, half to you and half to themselves.

“it’s probably rabies,” M had said, voice low and steady like they were trying to convince themselves more than you. “you’ve got the shots. it’ll be fine.”

W and V exchanged a glance over your bed. you didn’t miss it, the way their eyes flicked toward each other, something unspoken passing between them. you’d noticed it before, during those first few days when they’d both taken turns sitting with you. they weren’t saying it out loud, but you could tell—they didn’t think this was just rabies. and part of you, the rational part that had clung to M’s words, didn’t think it was either. but you weren’t ready to ask.

the fever crawled through your body, starting in your chest and spreading to your limbs like fire under your skin. it wasn’t normal. you knew it wasn’t, but there was no explanation that made sense. the doctors couldn’t find anything except for signs of a violent infection. but that didn’t explain the dreams, the way your senses had started to shift in ways you couldn’t fully articulate.

at night, when the fever hit its peak, you’d wake up drenched in sweat, your heart pounding in your chest as if it were trying to break free from your ribcage. your skin felt like it was too tight, like something inside you was pressing outward, demanding to be let free. there were flashes of something more—brief moments where your senses sharpened, where you could hear footsteps down the hall or smell something faint, metallic. but those moments came and went, and you told yourself it was just your mind playing tricks.

M and C were the ones to step in with the rational explanations, repeating the same things over and over until you almost believed them.

“it’s just an infection,” they said. “you were bitten by a wild animal, after all.”

D, though, tried to lift your spirits, as they always did. they’d show up with bags of sweets, grinning, trying to make you laugh even when your head was throbbing and your skin was burning up.

“maybe it’s not rabies,” they’d joked once, tossing a gummy bear into the air and catching it with a quick snap of their teeth. “maybe you’ve been cursed. like some old angry spirit or whatever. we should get a shaman.”

that had gotten a weak laugh out of you, but it had been hollow, thin. there was no shaking the feeling that something was wrong, that whatever had bitten you had left more than just physical wounds.

but eventually, after days of burning and aching, the fever broke. your body cooled, the heat fading into a dull memory, and the doctors were quick to say that you’d recovered. you’d survived the infection. but you knew better.

when they discharged you, your friends were there waiting, trying to make light of the fact that you looked half-dead. you could see it in their eyes—the way they studied your gaunt face, your hollow cheeks, the way your skin clung too tight to your bones like you’d been starved for weeks instead of days. D had tried to joke about it, something light-hearted about your diet, but no one had laughed. not really.

you didn’t say much. you couldn’t. because something in you had changed during those fevered days, something you couldn’t put into words. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had happened wasn’t over yet.

***

the first full moon passed without you realizing it. you’d felt strange for days—restless, anxious in a way that didn’t make sense. there was this pull, this quiet urging in your chest, like something was trying to guide you somewhere. but you couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t find the source.

then one night, after a long day of feeling like your skin didn’t quite fit, you found yourself wandering through the campus. it wasn’t intentional—you didn’t decide to go out, but your feet carried you across the quad, past buildings and students, and toward the woods on the outskirts of the grounds. it was like something was calling you there, something you couldn’t ignore.

the woods were quiet, eerily so. the usual sounds of campus life—the chatter of students, the distant hum of traffic—faded into the background as you entered the trees. you didn’t know why you were there, but your body did. and then the pain started.

it began as a dull ache in your limbs, like the kind you used to get during growth spurts when you were younger, but sharper, more insistent. then it spread, climbing up your spine and into your chest until every breath felt like you were inhaling fire. you dropped to your knees, gasping, clutching at the ground as your body twisted and contorted in ways that was decidedly inhuman.

your bones cracked, loud in the stillness of the woods, like twigs snapping underfoot. your muscles shifted, stretched, and you could feel your skin pulling, stretching over something much bigger than you. it was agony, every nerve ending on fire, your mind screaming in protest as your body changed. you tried to hold on to something, some shred of yourself, but it slipped away as the beast took hold.

your hands, once familiar, turned into something else—claws, long and sharp. you felt your teeth elongate, your jaw stretching into something animalistic. your senses exploded, everything around you suddenly too loud, too bright, too overwhelming. you could smell the earth, the dampness in the air, the faint metallic scent of blood from somewhere in the distance. the hunger hit you next, sharp and undeniable, driving you forward.

you didn’t think. you couldn’t. your mind was gone, lost to the beast moving on autopilot. all that mattered was that you were starving. you ran, your new body moving faster than you’d ever imagined possible, every muscle coiled and ready to spring.

there were livestock near the edge of the woods—sheep, maybe, or cattle. you couldn’t tell. it didn’t matter. you didn’t care. all you knew was the hunger, the need to kill, to tear something apart. you leapt over the fence, your claws finding purchase in the soft flesh of a sheep. it struggled, bleating in terror, but it was no match for the strength coursing through you. you tore into it, your teeth sinking deep into its neck, blood hot and thick in your mouth.

you didn’t stop until the animal was still, its blood staining the ground, the scent of it filling your nostrils. by the time the moon began to sink below the horizon, you had lost track of time, of how many animals had fallen to your claws. your body felt heavy, exhausted, but the hunger had been sated, at least for now.

***

when you woke the next morning, you were back in your bed with the window of your room open. naked. covered in blood and mud, leaves clinging to your skin like some reminder of the night before. you stared at the ceiling, your heart pounding, your chest heaving with every breath. you didn’t remember getting back. you didn’t remember much at all.

the memories of the night were fragmented—flashes of pain, of running, of blood. you didn’t know what had happened. you didn’t want to. but the evidence was there, on your skin, in the way your muscles ached, in the taste of blood still lingering in your mouth.

you couldn’t tell anyone. how could you? you didn’t even know what had happened. and you didn’t want to freak anyone out. so you kept it to yourself, burying the truth deep inside, hoping that whatever had happened would go away. that it had been a one-time thing.

but deep down, you knew it wouldn’t.

***

it was subtle at first, like a creeping shadow that you didn’t even notice was there until it had fully swallowed the light around you. you started to look tired all the time—bags under your eyes, your face pale and drawn, as if sleep didn’t offer the relief it was supposed to. the first person to notice was M, of course. M was always the one to notice. they didn’t say anything at first, just offered quiet glances whenever they caught you staring blankly off into space or saw you rubbing at your temples as if that would shake the lingering headache you couldn’t seem to get rid of.

“you okay?” they asked one evening. the two of you were studying in the library, the lamplight casting long shadows on the dark wood of the table.

you forced a smile, shrugging like it was nothing. “yeah, just tired.”

but the truth was, you weren’t just tired. you were exhausted—bone-deep, soul-deep tired in a way that made you feel hollow. your body was fighting something, that much was clear. but fighting what? you didn’t know. you told yourself it was the aftereffects of the fever, that maybe you hadn’t fully recovered yet. but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t true.

then the cuts and scratches started showing up.

you’d wake up in the mornings and find a fresh gash on your forearm, or a thin, red line across your cheek that hadn’t been there the night before. they were never deep, never serious, but they were constant. every week it seemed like there was something new—an unexplained bruise on your ribs, a scratch across your neck. at first, you brushed it off. maybe you were thrashing in your sleep, scratching yourself without realizing it. but then C saw them.

“what the hell happened to your face?” C asked one morning, frowning as they reached out to touch a thin scratch running down your jawline. “did you fall or something?”

you shook your head, pulling back before their fingers could graze the raw skin. “i don’t know. it was just there when i woke up.”

C’s eyes narrowed, concern creeping into their voice. “you sure you’re okay? you’ve been… off, lately.”

you wanted to brush it off, to tell them you were fine. but the truth was, you weren’t fine, and you had no idea why.

“i don’t know what’s going on,” you admitted quietly, and it felt like the first real thing you’d said in days.

C sighed, running a hand through their hair. “maybe you should see a doctor again. this… this isn’t normal.”

you nodded, though the idea of seeing another doctor made your stomach turn. what were you supposed to say? that you were waking up with scratches and bruises and no memory of how you got them? that something felt wrong inside you, like you were losing control of yourself? no. they’d throw you in the loony bin faster than you could say “stop.”

but it wasn’t just the tiredness or the scratches. it was the way your body had started craving things, strange things. like meat.

you’d never been picky before, but now, every time you sat down to eat, all you could think about was meat. not just any meat, though. it had to be rare. blood-red, almost raw. the first time it happened, you’d been out with your friends, grabbing dinner at some burger joint near campus. you ordered your usual, but when the burger came, perfectly cooked with a slight char, the sight of it turned your stomach.

“you gonna eat that?” D asked, eyeing your untouched plate. “or are you saving it for later?”

you frowned, pushing the plate away.

“it’s overcooked,” you muttered, even though you knew it wasn’t. it just wasn’t what you wanted.

W raised an eyebrow, glancing at your plate. “it’s medium-rare.”

“yeah, well, it’s not rare enough.”

C snorted. “you want it raw or something, starkid?”

you didn’t respond, because the answer, disturbingly, was yes. you didn’t want it cooked at all. you wanted the blood. the thought made you feel sick, but it also made your mouth water in a way that scared you.

from that night on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. every time you sat down to a meal, you found yourself staring at the meat on your plate, wondering what it would taste like if it hadn’t been cooked at all. you started ordering steaks rare, almost raw, the blood pooling on the plate, and when you ate, it was like nothing had ever tasted so good.

“you’re getting weird,” D said one night, watching you tear into a steak that was practically still mooing. “like, seriously. are you okay?”

you glared at them, your fork clutched tightly in your hand. “i’m fine, D.”

D raised their hands in surrender, chuckling nervously. “alright, jeez. just checking.”

but you weren’t fine, and D knew it. they weren’t the only one. everyone had started to notice. it wasn’t just the way you looked—paler, thinner, with dark circles under your eyes and fresh cuts on your skin every other week. it was the way you acted. you were on edge all the time, your temper shorter than it had ever been. the smallest things set you off.

one afternoon, D asked you a simple question—reminding you about an assignment for one of your classes that was due the next day—and you snapped at them, yelling about how you didn’t need them hovering over you all the time. the words came out before you could stop them, and the look on D’s face—hurt, confused—was enough to make your stomach twist with guilt. but you couldn’t take it back. the anger had bubbled up out of nowhere, hot and irrational, and once it was out, you couldn’t control it.

“i was just trying to help because you asked me to remind you of it a month ago,” D said quietly, staring at you like they didn’t recognize the person standing in front of them.

you wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in your throat. instead, you just muttered something under your breath and walked away, leaving D standing there, hurt and confused.

after that, things got worse. you started pulling away from everyone, isolating yourself without even meaning to. it was like you couldn’t stand to be around them anymore, like their presence irritated you in ways it never had before. every little thing set you off—the way M asked if you were feeling okay, the way W smiled at you with that concerned, worrying look in their eyes, the way C hovered like they were waiting for you to explode.

you didn’t want to explode. you didn’t want to be angry all the time. but you couldn’t help it. it was like something inside you was constantly simmering, waiting for a reason to boil over. and the worst part was, you didn’t know why.

***

it was V who finally brought it up, one night after you’d barely spoken to anyone all day. they found you sitting in the common room of your suite, staring blankly at the TV which wasn’t even turned on, your mind a mess of half-formed thoughts and simmering frustration.

“hey,” V said quietly, sitting down beside you. “you’ve been… different lately.”

you didn’t say anything, just kept staring at the TV, hoping they’d drop it. but V wasn’t like that when it came to their friends. they weren’t going to drop it.

“i mean it,” they said with all the firmness they could muster. “we’re all worried about you. you’ve been acting strange. D’s scared to talk to you now, after what happened last week. C’s been trying to keep it together, but even they don’t know what to say anymore.”

you swallowed hard, still not looking at them.

“i don’t know what’s going on,” you whispered. it was the truth, and saying it out loud felt like admitting defeat.

V sighed, their hand resting lightly on your arm. “maybe you should let us help. we all want to. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

but that was the thing, wasn’t it? you didn’t even know what ‘this’ was. how could you ask for help when you couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even make sense of it yourself?

“i’ll be fine,” you said, pulling away from them. “i just need some space.”

V didn’t push anymore. but you could see the worry in their eyes, the way they wanted to say more but didn’t. instead, they just nodded, standing up and giving you a small, sad smile.

“alright,” they said. “but if you ever want to talk…”

you didn’t respond, and they left, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your guilt, and the growing fear that whatever was happening to you, it wasn’t going to stop.

***

your friends decided to keep an eye on you after that, though they tried not to make it obvious. you noticed it in the way C watched you out of the corner of their eye during study sessions, the way W lingered after class to ask how you were doing, the way D, despite your outburst, kept showing up with snacks and stupid jokes, trying to make you smile.

but none of it helped. because the truth was, you didn’t know what was going on, and that terrified you more than anything else. you didn’t want to be around them, didn’t want to hurt them, didn’t want them to see what you were becoming. so you did what you always did—you pulled away. you stopped answering texts, made excuses to avoid hanging out, buried yourself in your coursework.

what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

***

the night of the next full moon came quietly, as if it was trying not to disturb anyone. but the air held something heavy, something ominous, that felt like it was waiting just beneath the surface of things.

the group hadn’t planned to spend the night together—it was a tuesday, after all—but V had been restless all day, pacing their room, chewing on their nails, staring at their phone like it held all the answers to the questions swirling in their mind. something didn’t feel right. it had been gnawing at them since morning, a nagging anxiety that wouldn’t let go. and then, just after sunset, they’d gone to check on you, only to find your room empty.

you’d disappeared again.

their heart raced as they dialed W’s number, each ring on the other end making their throat tighten. W picked up on the second ring, sounding out of breath. “V? What’s wrong?”

“it’s... it’s them. they’re gone again, W. i think something’s wrong. i don’t know, i—” V’s voice cracked, panic bleeding through. “we have to find them. i have a really bad feeling about this.”

W didn’t hesitate. “i’m on my way. call the others.”

V nodded, even though W couldn’t see them, their fingers already flying over the screen to call M, then C, then D. within minutes, the group had assembled, all of them tense, worried. they didn’t need to explain why they were worried—everyone knew. the last time you’d disappeared in the middle of the night, you’d come back with fresh cuts and bruises, looking like you’d crawled through hell and didn’t remember any of it.

they couldn’t let it happen again. not tonight.

the group spread out, flashlights slicing through the darkness as they searched the familiar haunts around campus. the woods near the edge of campus were always a good place to start—isolated, quiet, and easy to disappear into. but as they ventured deeper, the silence began to settle over them, thick and unnerving. no wind, no birds, no rustling leaves. just the sound of their own footsteps crunching on the forest floor.

a dreadful sense of deja vu hit them all at once.

“i don’t like this,” D muttered, keeping their voice low, as if speaking too loud might make something worse happen. “it’s too quiet.”

M, who’d been leading the way, stopped in their tracks, holding up a hand. “did you hear that?”

everyone froze, straining their ears. for a second, nothing. and then, faintly, the unmistakable sound of chewing—wet, visceral, like something tearing through flesh.

V’s stomach churned. “we need to move. now.”

they followed the sound, their footsteps quickening, hearts pounding in their chests as the chewing grew louder, more grotesque. and then, as they turned the corner of a clearing, they saw it.

a massive creature, hunched over the carcass of a bull, its fur matted with blood. the moonlight glinted off its golden, beastly eyes as it tore into the animal with sharp, deadly teeth. it resembled the same creature they’d saw during their ill-fated camping trip. its muscles rippled under its coarse fur, claws like knives glinting as it gripped the bull’s body. and then it stopped, its head snapping up, eyes locking onto the group.

they didn’t have time to react, didn’t even have time to scream, before the creature snarled, baring its teeth.

V took a step back, heart slamming against their ribcage. “did... did it follow us?”

but W, standing frozen beside them, didn’t answer. they were too focused on the beast’s eyes, those glowing golden eyes, which seemed to flicker with something—recognition? for the briefest moment, the beast hesitated, its snarl faltering, the wild fury in its gaze dimming. it stared at them, unmoving, like it was trying to remember something it had once known but had long since forgotten.

“what’s it doing?” D whispered, their voice barely audible.

the creature’s breath came out in ragged, heavy pants, steam rising in the cold night air. for a moment, it seemed almost human, that look in its eyes. then, with a sudden jerk, it turned and bolted, vanishing into the darkness of the woods, leaving behind the bloody remains of the bull.

“we need to follow it,” W said, their voice trembling but certain.

“what?” C snapped, still staring after the creature. “are you insane? that thing will kill us.”

W shook their head. “it didn’t, though. it recognized us. i’m telling you, something’s amiss here. it’s not the same creature from our camping trip.”

for a second, no one moved. they were all too stunned to process what had just happened. but then V nodded, their face pallid but determined. “W’s right. it didn’t attack. it... it hesitated.”

C opened their mouth to argue but then closed it again, sighing heavily. “fine. let’s go. but if that thing turns on us..."

“it won’t,” D spoke up firmly, though their hands shook as they gripped the flashlight tighter. “i... i think W has a point.”

they followed the werewolf’s trail, moving quickly through the dense trees, their breath visible in the cold night air. the deeper they went into the woods, the darker it became, the flashlights barely cutting through the gloom. hours seemed to pass as they searched, the group growing more and more exhausted. but none of them would give up. they couldn’t. not after what they’d seen.

just as the first hint of sunlight began to break through the trees, M stopped, pointing ahead. “there. look.”

lying on the forest floor, half-hidden by a tangle of leaves and branches, was you. naked, covered in blood and dirt, shivering uncontrollably. you were mumbling something under your breath, your voice hoarse and broken, words slurring into nonsense.

V was the first to reach you, dropping to their knees beside your trembling body.

“oh my god,” they whispered, brushing the matted hair away from your face. “you’re freezing.”

C was right behind them, shrugging off their coat and immediately wrapping it around your bare shoulders, trying to cover the worst of the cuts and bruises on your pallid skin. they crouched beside you, their expression a mix of anger, fear, and helplessness.

“you idiot,” C muttered, their voice rough, almost choked. “what the hell happened to you?”

you didn’t answer properly, your lips trembling as you mumbled something incoherent, your body curling in on itself. you couldn’t stop shaking, your eyes unfocused, glazed over, like you were still caught somewhere between the transformation and waking.

W knelt down on your other side, handing C the scarf they’d brought with them.

“here,” they said softly, “wrap this around their neck.”

C took the scarf, wrapping it carefully around you, their hands surprisingly gentle despite the frustration etched into their face.

“you’re gonna be okay,” D muttered, though you could hear the doubt in their voice.

W leaned in closer, slipping their arms under you and pulling you against them, ignoring the blood and dirt smearing onto their own clothes.

“shh,” they whispered, their voice soft and soothing as they held you close. “it’s okay. we’re here. you’re safe now.”

you whimpered, the sound low and pitiful, like an animal in pain, your body still trembling uncontrollably as they held you.

“hey, hey,” W murmured, rocking you gently, their fingers brushing through your hair in an attempt to calm you. “it’s okay. you’re okay.”

the rest of the group stood around you, their faces concerned and drawn, their eyes wide with fear and confusion. no one knew what to say. no one knew how to explain what had just happened.

M stood off to the side, their arms wrapped tightly around themself as they watched you, their expression unreadable.

“what do we do now?” they asked quietly, their voice trembling.

“we get them back to the suite,” V said, standing up and glancing around at the others. “they need help. medical help.”

“no hospitals,” C said sharply, standing up as well. “we can’t explain this. we just... we just need to get them somewhere safe.”

D nodded, though their eyes were filled with worry. “i agree, C. but we also can’t leave them like this.”

C sighed and closed their eyes for a few seconds. “we’ll take it one step at a time.”

together, they lifted you, supporting your weight between them as they made their way back through the woods. the sun was fully up now, but none of them noticed. they were too focused on getting you back, on making sure you were okay.

as they walked, V kept whispering to you, their voice soft and reassuring, though you weren’t sure if you could hear them.

“you’re gonna be alright,” they kept saying, over and over like a hymn. “we’re gonna figure this out. we’re not gonna let you go through this alone.”

but deep down, none of them could really tell what would come up next.

#this was such a fun concept to write #have some platonicity of the stygian six #i’ll probably make this a whole interactive AU for next halloween lmao #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #twine wip #interactive story #ro: c lacroix #ro: v næsholm #ro: w ostendorf #ro: d diaconu #ro: m whitlock singh

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

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Batting Practice Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley feels like you and he are compatible, so he decides he is all in with you and Everett. When you get a few minutes alone with him during the team pool party, it's evident that you are physically compatible too.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing (eventually 18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley had decided that complicated was good enough for him, as long as he could be around you. Nat was right; as far as adult problems went, he was being ridiculous to try to force himself away from a woman he wanted just because she had a kid. And not just any kid. Everett was great. Bradley honestly loved being around him, too.

So he kissed you. Sure, it was only on the cheek, but he didn't care who saw him. In fact, he hoped the other moms saw it. Maybe they'd leave him the hell alone.

"Ready, Coaches?" the referee asked, and Bradley and Bob both gave him a thumbs up.

This game was much more of a blowout than last Saturday. Bradley hated to admit it, but the Tiny Owls were pretty terrible. He was looking for a way to silently instate some sort of 'mercy rule' so the kids on the other team wouldn't feel too bad about losing by so much.

Everett was next up to bat, and Bradley pointed to first base. "Hey, kiddo. Let's practice hitting where I tell you to, okay? Hit the ball toward first base." And Everett managed to hit the ball exactly where Bradley told him.

"Cool!" Everett cheered, earning a high five. Bob gave Bradley a thumbs up, and he had Piper do the same thing.

Thankfully by the last inning, the Tiny Owls had come back a bit. But the Tiny Eagles still won by ten runs.

When Bradley glanced at the bench, he saw you on the phone with Bob's credit card in your hand. You looked up at him and waved your fingers.

You mouthed, "Hi, Coach," and Bradley's entire body lit up. He wanted to get you alone during the pool party, even just for a minute. He wanted to show you that he couldn't stop thinking about you.

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

You pulled your car around the enormous recreation grounds and parked next to the pool.

"Ev, I have to carry a bunch of stuff into the kitchen. Why don't you take your swim bag and work on getting changed?"

"Okay," he replied, and you watched him walk into the fenced in pool area and head for the boys' bathroom.

You walked around to your trunk and started to shimmy out the cooler and bags of ice, keeping Bob's credit card and the kitchen keys in your hand.

"I got it, Kitten!" Bradley was jogging up behind you, still all sweaty from the game. You felt his hand on your lower back at the same time his lips connected with your cheek again, and then he was reaching into your trunk as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "Where's Ev?" he asked, looking around, and your heart clenched.

"Getting changed," you told him, your voice sounding a little dreamy. "You kissed me again."

He leaned in and kissed your cheek a third time just as all of the other parents started pulling into the surrounding spots.

"Yep," he confirmed, lifting the cooler, bags of ice and juice boxes all out of your trunk in one shot. You grabbed the bags of chips and pretzels and scrambled after him with the keys.

He paused to let you unlock the clubhouse door, and there was a smirk on his face as you squeezed in front of him. You wanted to kiss him until he wasn't smirking anymore.

You jiggled the knob and threw your weight against the door, but nothing happened. "Turn the knob again," Bradley instructed, and he leaned against it, popping it open.

"Thanks," you murmured, leading the way inside, and he was hot on your heels, setting everything down on the long countertop in the dimly lit kitchen.

"Kitten," he muttered, stepping into your personal space and letting his hands settle on your waist. Your heart felt like it was bouncing around in your chest.

"Hello!" called a familiar voice, and you watched Bradley tip his head back in frustration as his hands abandoned your waist. Then Sandra strolled into the kitchen in a tiny bikini top and a pair of cutoff shorts. "There you are, Bradley! I didn't know if you wanted to taste my cupcakes before I let everyone else try them."

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes. Bradley cleared his throat and said, "Actually, I try to stay away from sweets."

You watched Sandra's face fall as she started to set up an elaborate cupcake display for the kids.

"I'm going to go check on Everett and get changed," you said, brushing Bradley's chest with your fingers as you headed for the door.

"Great idea. I'll get changed, too," he said, following you out.

You turned and looked at him over your shoulder. "You don't eat sweets?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I love sweets. I'd eat the shit out of your cupcakes, Kitten."

A giggle bubbled out of you. You were aching to feel his lips against yours. However, it felt wonderful to see him reject Sandra like that. You wouldn't mind watching him do that over and over again.

"Mommy!" Everett ran over and thrust his bag into your hands. "Are you getting changed and coming in the pool with me?"

"Yeah, sweetie. I'm going to get changed. I'll put my feet in the water."

Bradley scoffed. "Just your feet? That's no fun," he said, winking at Everett.

"Yeah, that's no fun! You should jump in with me!" Everett exclaimed.

"Us. You should jump in with us," Bradley corrected, swiping his hand over Everett's hair.

You smiled at both of them. "Fine! You win. I'll jump in, but not until after lunch. Coach Bob has entrusted me with the pizza and his credit card. And as Team Mom, I'm reminding both of you that you'll need to wait thirty minutes after you eat before you can swim."

You listened to Bradley and Ev both grumble as they walked away from you, but Bradley turned around and winked as you headed off to get changed.

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

Bradley could only take so much. He wanted to kiss you and run his hands all over you. But fucking Sandra and her goddamn cupcakes had to interrupt all his fun. Now he was sitting in the sun in his board shorts, Phillies cap still backwards and aviators perched on his nose. He was watching Bob and some of the parents swimming with the kids, but he was completely distracted by you as soon as you emerged from the ladies' room.

He dragged his sunglasses lower on his nose and really looked at you. Leopard print bathing suit? Was his Kitten trying to kill him? It was a one piece that tied in the front and showed a little gap of skin below your breasts, and Bradley was practically drooling now. You adjusted the black wrap you were wearing around your waist and went to sit at the edge of the pool.

When you had your legs in the water almost up to your knees, Bradley saw Bob swim over and lean on the edge of the pool to talk to you. He could hear your laughter and see your bright smile from where he was sitting. Bob had heard Bradley freaking out about you at the Hard Deck on Thursday night. He had been there for all of the second guessing and over complication and word vomit Bradley had been spouting about being interested in a mom. What if Bob took all of that to mean Bradley was no longer interested in you?

Because he was. Bradley went home from the Hard Deck, got a little drunk and then got really sad when he imagined no longer having you and Everett in his life after tee ball season ended.

Bradley got up and tossed his hat on the chair, and then headed toward the pool. Your eyes were on him immediately, and you did that cute little finger wave in his direction. God, he'd be so upset if Bob was flirting with you. He'd finally just figured out what he wanted and what he was willing to do to get it.

He jumped into the deep end and started swimming toward where you were sitting, picking up Piper and putting her on his shoulders along the way. Bradley tried to eavesdrop while Piper held onto his ears and asked to be dunked. So he told Piper to hold her breath and then dunked her one time.

"Wanna go see Uncle Bob, Piper?" he asked her.

"Yeah!" she squealed. "Uncle Bobby!"

"Excellent," Bradley muttered, carrying the child toward you and Bob.

You were smiling at Bob as he rambled on, but Bradley could tell your eyes were drifting toward him. "And I just never knew I could claim that when I file my income taxes, so thanks for explaining that to me. You're a lifesaver," Bob was saying.

"You can ask me accounting questions anytime, Bob."

You had told Bradley you were an accountant. Bob was talking to you about income taxes. That wasn't sexy at all. Although... Bradley still thought that might be considered flirting for Bob.

"Here's Uncle Bobby," Bradley said, thrusting Piper into Bob's arms while she demanded he dunk her.

"Hi, Coach," you said, reaching down and taking Bradley's wet aviators off and putting them on yourself.

"That looks cute, Kitten." He grabbed your foot and pretended to pull you into the water.

"Bradley!" you gasped, but he just smiled up at you. "I said I would swim later!"

He traced along your ankle under the water, and you let him. "Promise? I want to see Kitten get all wet."

You gaped at him, and he realized what he just said. But you pulled your foot slowly out of his grasp. "The pizzas just got here. I'm going to get them all set up in the kitchen," you told him, returning his sunglasses to his nose and standing up.

As you walked away from the pool, Bradley saw you turn around and look back at him a few times.

"I think she wants you to follow her," Bob commented, tossing Piper under the water again. "I'll give you a five minute head start, and then I'm going to announce the pizzas are here."

Bradley was pulling himself out of the pool immediately. He tossed his sunglasses back onto his chair and dried off a bit with his towel before following you into the clubhouse building again.

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

Your heart was pounding as you looked out the kitchen window and watched Bradley pull himself out of the pool. His biceps were crazy. He had abs. He looked so incredibly hot, you weren't sure what to do. You kept opening and closing the pizza boxes without really doing anything. Now he was toweling off, his biceps and shoulders rippling again.

He was coming inside.

You picked up a juice box to keep your hands busy but looked up as Bradley walked into the kitchen.

"Coach," you said a bit breathlessly as he made his way over to you without stopping.

"Kitten," Bradley whispered, backing you slowly, intentionally up until you bumped into the counter. You shivered as he gently stroked his fingers up your arm. "Just wanted to come in and check on you."

You looked up at him, but your eyes fluttered closed for a beat as his hand made its way up to your shoulder before teasing the soft skin above your collarbone. His brown eyes were focused on yours, and his hand was huge and warm as he caressed you. You bit your lip and shivered again as his wet swim trunks met the front of your bathing suit, making you wet and cold.

"You only came inside to check on me?" you asked softly, pressing yourself against him.

Bradley shook his head and groaned softly. "Came in to do this, too," he whispered, closing the distance between you, and brushing his lips against yours.

Oh, he felt good. So good. You leaned in, deepening the kiss and let the juice box fall to the floor.

Your hands went up to tangle in his messy, damp hair, and when he pressed you back against the counter, you were able to feel every inch of his body against yours. Bradley's hands glided down your sides to your waist, and next thing you knew, he was lifting you up and setting you down on the counter.

"Bradley!" you giggled as his lips met yours again with more heat. You spread your legs a little wider and let him stand between them as he stroked his fingers along your thighs.

He placed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, and when he spoke, his voice was deep and raspy. "Did you end things with Frank?" His lips brushed against you, making it so hard to think.

"Yeah," you gasped as Bradley's lips connected with the side of your neck. "He's history," you promised, reveling in the feel of his mustache prickling your soft skin. "Ancient history."

Your fingers tugged through his hair, and Bradley brought his lips back up to yours. "That's a good Kitten. I'm not gonna share you."

Moaning, you pulled him closer so his abs were pressing against your core through the scrap of your bathing suit that was covering you. He worked his lips against yours as you held him close, your body fitting perfectly with his. You tasted his tongue, leaning closer to get more of him.

"Bradley," you moaned when he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, your core rubbing against him deliciously. He kissed your nose and your cheeks as you started grinding against his abs.

He guided your bathing suit strap off your left shoulder and kissed along your newly exposed skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"You taste good," he grunted, his tongue coming out to tease you. Your head tipped back as his hands wrapped tightly around your waist, and his lips worked across the swell of your breasts above your suit.

You were panting his name softly as his nose stroked your neck. Then his lips were on yours again, and you were devouring his mouth.

But you heard someone else coming inside the clubhouse, and you broke away from the kiss. But Bradley wasn't moving. He let his hands drift down your sides and to the tops of your thighs.

"Someone's coming," you said breathlessly. But you didn't push him away. You knew how you looked right now with your bathing suit strap hanging down your arm and Bradley standing between your legs.

He was just grinning at you and stroking your legs while you continued to grip his shoulders.

"Oh, hi," Bob said, taking one look at the two of you and blushing.

"Hey, Bob. What's up?" Bradley asked before turning back to you and placing one more soft kiss to your lips. You ducked away from Bob and adjusted your shoulder strap.

"Uh, just checking to see if the pizza is ready," he said, clearing his throat a few times.

"Yeah," you managed to say. "The pizza is all set. It's ready. And so are we, aren't we, Bradley? Ready to eat pizza?" You were practically stuttering.

"Sure, Kitten," he murmured, helping you down from the counter. You slid down the front of his body, bracing your hands against his hard chest.

"Oh-kay.... well, I'll send everyone else in then," Bob said, turning to head back outside.

You wrapped your hands around the back of Bradley's neck, and he smashed his lips against yours again, holding you in place with one hand on your ass.

"You're trouble," he groaned as your lips dropped down to his neck for a second before you heard all the kids heading inside and finally broke apart.

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

Bradley watched you pick up the juice box that you had dropped on the floor when he started kissing you. You held it absentmindedly, chewing on your lip with a dreamy look on your face. He stacked up three slices of pizza on a plate to keep himself from reaching for you again. Then he grabbed some plates and got a slice ready for Everett and one for Amber as well.

You were nibbling on a slice of pizza and occasionally looking at him while you talked to Amber's dad. Bradley could tell you were barely paying attention to what he was saying to you, and that made him smile.

Bradley avoided all the baked goods since he had already told Sandra he wasn't into hers. So he ate half a bag of chips while he tried to figure out how to get you alone again.

Everett hugged you after he finished his pizza, and you told him, "Wait a half hour before you swim!" Then you pointed at Bradley with a grin and said, "You too, Coach."

"Okay, Team Mom," he said with a wink. Then he led Everett and a few other kids outside to the grass and started up a game of tag. He ran away from the kids, dodging their little hands for a while.

"You're fast, Coach!" Everett said, finally making contact with Bradley's arm.

"Gotta be fast to be a good ball player," Bradley told him, immediately tagging Henry.

Bradley ran around with the swarm of screaming kids behind him. A lot of the parents were laughing, and he watched you take a picture of him.

"Is it safe to swim yet, Team Mom?" he asked, running past you.

You were cracking up as you said, "Yes! Everyone can go back in the pool!" Half of the kids stopped chasing Bradley and immediately got back in the water. But he watched you untie your wrap and set it on a chair along with your phone, so he made another loop through the grass before making his way over to you.

"Kitten," he growled, and your eyes snapped up to his as he scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

"Bradley!" you squealed in surprise, digging your nails into his back and making him groan. "Don't drop me!"

With one hand on your ass to keep you from squirming, Bradley walked to the edge of the deep end and jumped in with you, your delighted scream echoing through the air before you both hit the water.

"Coach!" you gasped, scrambling against his body when you came up for air. "You're the worst."

Bradley grinned and ran his hands along your hips and waist beneath the water. "I just wanted to get you all wet."

You started laughing as your legs tangled with his under the water. This is what he wanted, just to hear you laughing all the time.

"Mission accomplished," you whispered, biting your lip and running your fingers along his abs before swimming away from him.

He wanted more than anything to follow you, but now he had Everett and a few other kids lined up at the deep end, waiting for Bradley to catch them when they jumped in. So he played with the kids while you swam around a bit, still thinking about how it felt to hold you.

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

You were still damp and trying to clean up the kitchen, because it was almost time for everyone to leave the pool area and turn in the keys. A lot of parents had already started packing up and heading out with their kids, but you didn't want Bradley and Bob to have to clean everything up alone.

As you were consolidating the pizzas into fewer boxes, you watched Bradley pushing Everett and Piper on the swings through the window. He was so good with the kids, and Everett was already very attached to him. You just hoped he would want to stick around.

You turned when the door opened and saw Sandra stroll in.

"Hey, Sandra," you murmured. "Do you want to take any of this pizza home?"

But she just rolled her eyes at you. "Don't you think the flirting is a little excessive?" she asked with a scowl.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, heart pounding in your throat.

"You and Coach Bradley. Around the kids? It's a bit much, and I don't think it's appropriate."

You couldn't believe she said that to you, as you looked at her tiny string bikini with wide eyes. You didn't think her swim attire was exactly appropriate for a family friendly pool day, but you just rolled your eyes and kept quiet. "I mean, I guess you're entitled to your opinion."

She just glared at you. "The two of you need to mess around on your own time."

"Okay, Sandra. And maybe you should flirt with your husband instead of the coaches."

Your blood was boiling. You didn't want to get into an argument with her, but you were single and you weren't doing anything inappropriate in front of anyone. Except maybe Bob...

But yeah, you should probably reel it in a little bit. But you weren't going to cave to Sandra's every whim.

You watched her pack up her uneaten baked goods and sweetly asked her, "So is that a no to the extra pizza then?"

She just shot you one last dirty look over her shoulder before leaving with her cupcakes and cookies.

You packed up the pizza, and you were about to check with Bob about what to do with it when he strolled into the kitchen.

"Hey, thanks for all your help today."

"No problem," you told him with a smile. "Do you want some of this extra pizza?"

"Take as much as you want, and I'll split the rest with Bradley."

You packed up a few slices for yourself and then packed up one box for each of the coaches. You were carrying the leftover food out to the parking lot when Everett and Bradley finally emerged from the pool.

"Sweetie, you need to get changed so we can head out," you told Everett, and he went to grab his swim bag.

"Meant to ask you," Bradley said, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead and standing in front of you in all his dripping wet glory. "What time did you and Ev want to go to the park tomorrow so I can show him some pitches?"

A warm, gooey sensation washed over you. He was really serious about this. "How about in the afternoon? Around 2? Myers Park?"

"Sounds good, Kitten," he whispered. You saw Sandra out of the corner of your eye, so you stepped away from him.

"I have leftover pizza for you, and some for Bob. I'm going to take it out to your car."

"Thanks," he said with a wink.

You made two trips to the parking lot, dropping one pizza box off on the hood of Bob's truck and one on the hood of Bradley's Bronco. You also tossed your bags and the empty cooler into your trunk. And then your heart clenched in your chest.

You watched Bradley carrying your son to your car on his shoulders, with Everett's swim bag dangling from Bradley's arm. They had changed out of their swimsuits, and both of them had huge smiles on their faces. And you had the uncontrollable urge to rub yourself against Bradley.

"Mom! Coach is going to take us to the park tomorrow after lunch! And we can pitch baseballs! For real!"

Bradley knelt down next to your car and Everett scrambled off of him and gave him a hug, knocking his aviators askew.

"I'll bring Gatorade and chewing gum, just like in the big leagues," Bradley promised as he stood.

Yep, you wanted to rub your entire body against him.

Bradley opened the car door for Everett, and then he took you by the hand and led you around the other side of his Bronco. "I wasn't sure how you felt about me doing this in front of Everett," he whispered, wrapping his long fingers around the back of your neck and leaning down to kiss you.

You pulled him closer by his belt loops and nibbled on his lips. "Not quite yet, okay?" you whispered against his chin. "He likes you so much. I don't want him to get his hopes up."

You looked up at him as you put a little distance between your body and his, and Bradley's brow scrunched up.

"I get what you're saying. But I think it would be more than okay for him to get his hopes up, Kitten."

You kissed him softly one more time and waved your fingers at him. "See you tomorrow, Coach."

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

Definitely physically compatible. Can't wait for them to get a little more physical. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 8

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine

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cmncisspnandmore · 8 months ago

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One Night Stand Part 7

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Pregnant! Reader

Warnings: Medical drama, Fluff,

A/N: Hi loves, sorry for taking so long, i just moved into a new house and its been a lot. And honestly my mental health is trash. This part was also really hard to write for me because I had this happen to me. And i didnt realize how triggering it would be to write about it but the best way to get through the trauma is to write about it, right? maybe? no? well, anyways sorry if it sucks. i'll do better next time.

Word count: 1833...

New to the series? Catch up here: Part 6,

Your head pounded as you laid across the soft couch, each throb timed perfectly with the beating of your heart. There was no cuteness in pregnancy, not in your eyes at least. The glow that most women talked about was nothing more than a sheen of sweat that collected on your brow from your every move. There was a tiny human playing soccer with your organs, your ribcage the goal. They kicked wildly at the space below your ribs, the feeling enough to make you want to throw up.

The past few days had been rough, you had a headache from hell and you just felt drained. Simon was concerned but you had chalked it up to the lingering cold you had going on. But now as you lay on the couch your stomach rolling with each passing moment you aren't so sure. Simon was on base today, having to complete some paperwork. He had woken you this morning, his lips peppering your face with soft kisses.

He had tried to stay home but you had insisted he go, that you would be fine you would call if you needed him. Since he had left a few hours ago he had called you a few times, and you had reassured him each time that you were okay, you were just going to rest on the couch until he got home. You weren’t sure how long had passed since Simon had last called, but you had started to gradually feel worse. You push yourself up onto your elbows, and the world begins to spin around you. A wave of dizziness, crashing into you, as you blindly reach for your phone.

You swallow trying to will yourself not to throw up. It takes you a few moments to find Simon's name in the phone, and putting it on speaker. It rings longer than normal but right before it goes to voicemail his panicked voice answers. “Hello? Y/n? What's wrong?”

“Simon… I… I don't feel good,” your voice shakes as you struggle to keep the phone in your hand.

“Bloody hell, It’s alright Love, stay on the phone with me, i’m on my way,” there’s shuffling and the sound of boots hitting the floor in the background. “You’ll be okay, what's going on?”

“I have a headache… I'm nauseous, and I just don't feel good at all, I think something is really wrong,” you mumble, swaying slightly as you sit on the couch.

“Okay, Love, do you have any swelling in your hands or feet?” The sound of Simon's truck revving filters through the phone.

“Yeah a little,” You lean forward to the best of your ability and press on the top of your foot watching as your finger makes a light indent in the skin.

“Fuck..” Simon curses under his breath, “Love, go put your coat on, I’ll be there in a moment. Okay? We’re gonna go to the hospital.”

“Simon?” you whisper, your voice shaking as you push yourself to stand, bracing yourself on the couch.

“Yeah love?”

“I’m scared…” you whisper, squeezing your eyes closed as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks.

“I know, I'm pulling up now okay, I'm gonna hang up okay? I just parked the truck, I'm coming to get you.” Simon's voice cuts off as the line goes dead. You shuffle over to the coat rack and start to pull on your coat. Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you hold the coat closed around your stomach. A sharp pain under your ribs causing you to gasp, and brace your hands on the kitchen counter.

The sound of heavy boots stops outside the door as Simon pushes into the apartment. He’s still wearing all his gear, his tight black t-shirt, his cargo pants and skull mask on. His brown eyes are full of concern as he walks towards you, his large hands resting on your hips.

“C’mon Love lets get you checked out,” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. Simon’s arms carefully pull you into him, resting your back against his chest as he guides you from the apartment and down to the car. Your mind feels cloudy and far away as Simon secures you into the truck. His hands brushing along your stomach as he fastens your seatbelt. You close your eyes focusing on the revving of the engine as Simon weaves the large black truck in and out of traffic. It was only moments later that it came to a screeching halt outside the A&E doors. He barely had the truck in park before he was jumping out and scooping you up in his arms. He cradles you against his chest as he bursts through the sliding glass doors.

“I need some help!” his voice is loud against your ear. The vibrations of it through his chest causing you to groan in pain. Each movement felt like it was sucking the soul out of you. Every breath hurt and you just wanted to sleep, but soon there were nurses and doctors swarming you. Each of them throws questions towards you, only to have Simon reply for you.

“How far along is she?” a doctor asks as she shines a bright light in your eyes.

“28 Weeks,” Simon's voice is laced with panic.

“Okay, let's get her up to Labor and Delivery people let's go! Someone call the NICU unit!” the on-call emergency room doctor calls out. It was like a swarm of bees, suddenly everyone was doing something. Someone was poking your arm with an IV while another was taking your blood pressure. You weren't sure whose hands belonged to who or what was going on. But after a few moments there was too much going on for your brain to process, and you passed out.

~~~~~

The beeping of the monitors was oddly familiar to you, like when you woke up after being caught in the stairwell after the apartment building you were living in caught fire. But this time there was an icy chill that ran down your spine when you heard it. The memories of what happened come flooding back.

Calling Simon, him rushing home, being rushed to A&E, the doctors concerned voice. The overwhelming sense of panic, and then nothing. You slowly pry our eyes open, fighting against the heaviness. The first thing you see is Simon's blonde hair, the wild strands sticking up at odd angles as it rests against the light blue hospital blanket. Your hand is trapped under his head. His cheek pressed firmly into the back of it. You wiggle your fingers slightly and he stirs. His head lifting, brown eyes blinking slowly as he came around.

“Y/N?” He asks softly, his eyes meeting yours.

“Hi,” you croak softly, your throat dry and a little sore.

“Oh god, baby, you scared me so much,” Simon whispers, his hands coming to cup your cheeks. He was still wearing his gear, minus his mask and vest, his black shirt slightly wrinkled.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your right hand moving reflexively to rest on your stomach. You pause, eyes widening as the once firm bump is now squishy and numb. The world seems to stop spinning, time slowing. Your heart wants to stop beating in your chest but it won't listen.

“N-No.” Your voice cracks, eyes welling with tears and a look of confusion crosses Simon's face before he looks at your right hand.

“Oh! No, love, shhh stop it’s okay. The baby is okay.” He rushes out, grabbing your left hand in his. His face is full of concern, his brow furrowed as he watches you slightly relax. After a moment you let out a shaky breath.

“What happened?” You whisper, looking up at him, his hand still clutched tightly around yours.

“You had PreEclampsia, but a severe case of it called HELLP syndrome. I’m not entirely sure what it means but they said the only way to save your life was to deliver the baby. So they performed an emergency C-Section and had to give you a blood transfusion. The baby is okay, they’re in the NICU. I haven't been able to see them yet, but a nurse came about an hour ago and said that they were fighting like crazy and we should be able to see them soon.” He explains, his brown eyes welling with tears.

His voice is rough and strained, “I thought I was gonna lose you both.”

Hot tears well in your eyes as he admits his fear. A man as big and strong as Simon looked so small at that moment. He looked like a lost child who couldn't find home. The brave soldier who willingly ran into warzones and fought people with his bare hands had never looked so helpless. It was in this rare moment that you got to see the person behind the hardened soldier. The man who truly thought he was going to lose the person he cared about, and his child. Your heart ached for him, you wished you could take the worry and pain he had felt away but you couldn't.

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, he must've been so scared, felt so hopeless. He was usually able to control some aspect of the situations he was in. He could fight his way out of the worst scenarios, he could plan an escape, and he was always prepared for things if they went south. But he wasn't able to fix you, he had been completely helpless as Doctors worked to save not only your life but that of his unborn child.

“Oh baby, don't cry,” Simon's thumb strokes the skin under your cheek as he wipes away your tears.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper, voice tight.

“It's not your fault, i’m just glad you're both okay.” He whispers, leaning forward and brushing his lips against your cheek.

“Tell me about the baby,” you blink away the rest of the tears, taking a steadying breath.

“It’s a girl, she weighs 1lb 2oz, and she's so small i don't even think she’d fill my entire palm. They aren't sure entirely what her future looks like, but the nurse that came in to check on you said she was a fighter, and she felt really good about her outcome.” He smiles, his brown eyes filled with pride as he talks about his daughter.

A daughter.

You had a daughter now.

The thought alone was crazy to you, you had been so sure the entire time it was a boy. You had a gut feeling but you were wrong, and you weren’t unhappy about it. You didn't care either way, the only thing you cared about was that they were okay. That they would pull through everything and you would get to bring them home eventually.

There's a soft knock on the door and a nurse with red hair pokes her head in.

“Hi, do you two wanna go meet your daughter?”

Next Part: Part 8

Taglist: @coffeeandtealol, @natashamea18, @itsmytimetoodream @humanities-cutest @ajrfanz @jggykhug09090 @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @ashreblogsnow

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #soft simon #simon x reader #simon riley #simon #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #x you #x reader #ghost cod #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost #dad!simon riley

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realityinsuspense · 4 months ago

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one step closer | chapter 1: i guess we're roommates now

--summary: "me and him? in one apartment? yeah, right. nothing is going to happen." ~~ two strangers living together. not talking and just going about each other’s lives. that was your plan. that’s how you’ve always done things, and you’ve gone far doing so. so when you have to suddenly move into a new apartment with your new roommate, you expect almost nothing. almost.

--pairing: mingi x fem!reader

--genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, a little angst, #mingi is cold and standoffish (? kinda), #eventual mutual pining

words: 2.9k

chapter 1: i guess we're roommates now

“I’m gonna miss you,” Your best friend Hongjoong, says through the phone. You could hear him fake a sniffle. “It’ll be so different without you.”

“Please,” you chuckle a little. “It’s only like an hour or so away from here. Crazy how much a difference that makes for the rent prices though…”

You’re doing your last minute checks in your (soon-to-be) old studio apartment, phone pressed to your ear. Everything for the most part seems to be packed up (minus the furniture of course) which made your once lively space turn into a barren landscape. It felt so unfamiliar to be in such a cold and empty environment that you once called home. So many memories were made here, but now it’s time to say goodbye. For good reason though.

“Yeah, who would’ve thought,” He heaves a sigh. “But I can’t believe you’re willing to move in with a stranger. A stranger that’s a man too? You’re crazy.”

“Hey,” you hold the phone now, sitting cross legged on the floor next to your packed boxes. “I know, I know! But he seems okay…based off of the listing he posted at least.”

“Just okay? y/n, you haven’t met him yet?!” Hongjoong sounded baffled.

“Not yet!” You defend. You were worried you sounded more desperate than you actually were. “I..I really had no time, you know? And the time I did tour the apartment, he wasn’t there. But we did talk on the phone once…so my gut tells me he’s okay!”

Hongjoong laughs at the other end of the line. “I guess it’s the real deal, but you still have to be careful. You know, just in case anything happens—and I hope not—you know you can call me right?”

“Of course I know that,” You try to assure yourself. It’s true, it was a crazy bold move to move into a new apartment, in a completely different area with a roommate that so happened to be a guy. But you really had no choice. This new apartment and new roommate was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

The bottomline was that your job was making you move company buildings. And in that small turnaround time you had, you quickly scrambled to find a new place—anything to assure you’d be able to make it to your new office building on time. Work is such a pain, you think to yourself. All of these life adjustments for what? But survival was essential. And you needed this job more than you know.

But in all honestly, the place was totally ideal. Not only was it was closer to your job, but the rent was way cheaper. I might be able to save more money to go on a vacation, you reasoned. It seemed like a pretty good deal, minus the fact that you’d be moving in with a total stranger. Whom you’ve never even met yet…

“Song Mingi” was his name. Based off his profile on the listing, you knew that he was around your age or so—which chipped off some uneasiness you had at first. You talked on the phone with him a while back, but it was mainly about the lease and rent and all that important stuff. You even went to tour the place yourself, but the landlord was there to give the tour in his place since he was “busy with personal matters”. I mean, it’s crazy to think that your new housemate is coming in. You’d expect him to want to meet his future housemate for the next year or so.

But he didn’t seem to be too interested in doing so. Maybe he’s really to himself, you think to yourself. I can work with that.

In fact that was even better maybe. Two strangers living together. Not talking and just going about each other’s lives. That could work, you thought. That’s how you’ve always done things, and you’ve gone far doing so. But the thought of living with someone new after a while made your stomach turn a little. You could handle it, sure—you had done so with your roommates back in college a few years ago—but nothing beats having your own place to yourself.

It’s just for a year, you think to yourself. You’ll have your own place again in no time.

“Just make sure you visit when you can please. I’ll even cook you dinner.” You say.

“Of course! I will soon.” You and Hongjoong wrap up your call. And just like that, as if in perfect timing, the moving truck calls.

It’s time.

Here you were. Your new home.

Before you, stood your new apartment complex. It was definitely much smaller than your old one, but you didn’t mind. It seemed a bit modern, but still had a homey feel to it. And the last time you visited, the neighborhood stole your heart. It seemed much more peaceful, with a bunch of small families around.

What a deal. But you couldn’t ignore your racing heart in that moment. You were about to move in with a total stranger. Maybe I am actually crazy. But there was no going back now.

You took your phone out and texted your new housemate that you arrived. Your fingers hovered over his contact name: Song Mingi.

“Just text me when you get here.” Mingi said through the phone the last time you spoke. Gosh. You were really going to live with this guy.

hey mingi, i’m here!! the moving guys will help bring my boxes up too!

And you waited for his response.

1 minute passed. 2 minutes. 3 minutes.

Nothing.

then 5 minutes…6…7…

Nothing. Would it seem impatient to text again? You were worried the moving company would have to leave soon. They were already unloading your boxes from the truck.

Should I text again?

hey, i’m outside!!

And you waited again.

Nothing.

“Hey, any way to get inside?” One of the staff members came up to you and said. “Not to pressure you, ma’am, but it’s almost 6 o’clock.”

“I don’t, I’m so sorry,” You can’t help but start to feel panicked. “Let me just get ahold of my housemate. It’ll be just a second.”

You knew texting would be inefficient. Who seriously replies right away these days? So you decided to bite the bullet and just call him. Would it really be so bad?

Ring. Ring. Ring.

No answer.

Seriously?! You felt horrible since the moving staff was growing impatient, and you knew they’d charge you extra for keeping them past the hour. It’s not too big of a deal, but you did have a lot of boxes. And you knew your new apartment was on the top floor. Plus, it was getting dark outside and you felt like a fool standing outside the apartment building doing nothing.

This wasn’t the ideal first impression you wanted to give your new housemate, but it was getting ridiculous. And at that point you couldn’t hold back: you went and called him again.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And again.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And again.

Ring. Ring. Ri-

“Hello?” His familiar deep voice croaked through the phone. FINALLY!

“Mingi? Hi! Yes it’s y/n… um, I’m here outside now!” You mask your slight impatience and worry with politeness. But by the sound of his low voice, you suspect he was probably asleep. A nap?!

“Ahh,” he sighed heavily on the other line. “I’ll be right down.”

You assured the mover that he was on his way down, and luckily they obliged to stay and help. The relief you felt suddenly turned into nerves. You were going to meet Song Mingi face to face for the first time. What a bold move indeed.

You head over towards the movers and try to help with your boxes when you suddenly hear the apartment building door open.

“y/n?”

You turn around to face him. Your new roommate.

You're not too sure why you're so surprised, but he was quite...good looking. Not that you were expecting anything, but it is catching you off guard just a tiny bit.

He was even taller than you thought he’d be: dressed in baggy grey sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt—his black hair tousled messily and his face framed with thick rimmed glasses. Mingi stepped forward.

“Hey,” He greeted. “I’m Mingi.”

“Hi,” You return the greeting, giving a small smile. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Mingi nods and glances past you. “Sorry about the delay. I accidentally fell asleep.”

“No, it’s okay,” You try to assure, suddenly feeling awkward. At least he’s being honest I guess? “I thought I was disturbing you by calling you so many times.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Silence.

He clears his throat, his eyes still glancing past you. “Your boxes?”

“Right! Yes, thank you.”

“Well, this is it,” Mingi said after the movers left. He places one last box on the floor. For some reason, the words were barely reaching you—your move-in boxes piling high at the foot of the door. “I guess we’re roommates now.”

The apartment was just like you remembered it from the tour—well, except the pile of dishes and empty takeout on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t exactly like your old place, but it was different in a good, familiar way: cream coated walls, gentle ambient lighting, and modern furniture. The living room had a dark couch and a wooden coffee table. It had a basic kitchen design—white cabinets and tabletops, with an island counter and a small dining area. It was quite minimal, but still showed signs of living. Definitely cozy.

You open the door to your new room, which was opposite across Mingi’s. Similar to the rest of the apartment, it was quite minimal and held similar design styles. It was quite spacious, holding a luscious queen sized bed just for you. The best part was the wide, curtained windows on the left side of the room—natural lighting always brought your mood up so you were particularly excited about this. You turned the lights on, its soft yellow light glowing against your skin.

“You know, I can’t believe you’re actually taking this spot, but thanks.” You heard Mingi say from the kitchen. “I really needed a roommate asap…and, I don’t know if it was ideal for you to move in with a total stranger, much less a guy. But let me just say now, I’m not some sort of creep or something like that.”

You were quite surprised. If you weren’t so desperate, maybe you wouldn’t have been as blinded by this fact. A man alone with a single woman these days could be quite risky. But something in you felt like you trusted Mingi (after reading the listing and talking with him on the phone of course). And the fact that you were similar in age made it seem less scary—it was like moving in with a classmate or something.

“Oh yeah, of course. But no, I didn’t really think that at all.” You step out of your doorway and face him. “I really needed to find a new place in this area quickly as well.”

Mingi simply nods in response once again.

“Alright, well anyways…” he begins after a beat of awkward silence. He moves from the sink to lean onto the kitchen counter, and runs a hand through his hair. “To be brief, we’ll have a chores list to split up cleaning and all that. But I just want to make it clear that everything in this apartment should be split equally. The kitchen, the living room, and even the bathroom.”

For some reason, you were beginning to feel more intimidated. He had this aura, and you couldn’t put your finger on it. Maybe it was his looming height or his unwavering serious expression, but it was the way he spoke—short, direct, and his voice: husky and deep.

“And you know... we don't really know each other at all so..." Mingi finally looked directly at you. "Let’s just keep it simple and not get in each other’s way, okay?”

“Sure,” You say nonchalantly. “That’s fine by me too.”

And you honestly were. You felt pretty relieved because that’s also how you would go about things. I mean, you didn’t even know this guy. So what’s even the point? This was just your home. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, the way he seemed so cold about it bothered you just a little. It's kind of rude isn't it? But you shook your head internally and pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

Two strangers living together. Not talking and just going about each other’s lives. That’s how you’ve always done things, and you’ve gone far doing so.

That’s how it should be. This was better.

“Cool, well…I’m gonna wash up now. Night.” Mingi’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Night.”

Both of you go on your separate ways. You knew you had a lot to unpack and fix, but you took in a deep breath and exhaled heavily. Welcome to your new home.

next chapter

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taeraemisu · 1 year ago

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in another universe ; jake enhypen

synopsis ; reader always had a crush on their best friend, jake. too scared to confess, reader pushes their feelings away just so they can never lose jake. but what happens when one of their usual late night deep talks takes a turn?

genre ; slight angst, best friends to lovers, idiots really, stargazing together !!!, fluff ?

pairings ; jake x reader

word count ; 1.6k words

you stare at the picture your best friend jake sent you. ‘does my outfit look okay?’ he texted you, waiting for a reply on the other side of the screen. you mentally screamed.

of course you do, anything you wear looks great, you said in your head. it was the jake sim for that matter, he always look good.

‘you look a little better than most days’

you replied before throwing your phone on your bed. how could one look so good? you and jake had been friends since kindergarten. long time friends, you honestly have no idea when the line of platonic or romantic feelings started to blur. it felt like you had a crush on him forever. definitely not love at first sight. but if you were to go backwards and pick up the little moments where you felt more-than-friends love,

you would end up right back to the moment you first ever saw him.

you hated the feelings though. you couldn’t accept them. you knew jake in and out so you knew whenever he had a crush on someone. and you had to admit, you did look for those signs whenever you guys were hanging out, for any tiny hint of reciprocated feelings. but you could never find any.

so, you pushed the feelings away. you couldn’t risk confessing, breaking the friendship and losing your best friend of almost twenty years. it was better to have him right by your side while suffering through it rather than having him gone while still suffering.

a ding comes out from your phone. you sat down on the side of your bed and pick it up, a text from him coming through.

‘so you think i’m good looking today :D who is this and what happened to yn ?? they would never tell me i am handsome’

obviously, you thought. any compliments that come from right out of your mouth will show your true feelings. you could never allow that.

‘i take my words back. you look hideous’

your phone dings again.

‘no take backs’

there was a moment of silence before another text comes through.

‘we are meeting tonight at the rooftop right?’

you type out a quick ‘yes’ before shutting your phone off, not responding anymore. how much longer could you hide these feelings? ever since you were kids, you had quite the obsession with stars. or anything space related. so when jake found you just laying down on the rooftop late at night one day when you guys were 10, it quickly became a tradition to hang out there at least once a week.

you loved the stars and the secrets of the universe but if any one were to ask you any questions about it, you frankly couldn’t give a scientific answer. you loved the philosophical sense of it though, about how there’s multiple multiverses and different universes. jake, being the smarter one of the two of you, went on to study astronomy in school.

of course, since you moved over the years, you guys could not hang out at the original rooftop you started the tradition at. but thankfully, the tiny apartment building you are currently living in had an accessible rooftop to use. you sighed as you thought about jake.

maybe in another universe, you did not have feelings for him.

“and you know what sunghoon did? he took the last piece of chicken!”

the both of you were now on the rooftop, sitting down as you gaze at the stars together. it was a good night, the sky was clear, no chance of rain or any feelings getting in the way, you could absolutely see the stars tonight.

“how scandalous,” you said in a sarcastic tone. “how dare he take the last piece of chicken!”

“that’s what i’m saying!” jake laughs, turning to look at you before looking back at the stars. “and what about you? we haven’t seen each other in so long, oh my god?”

you guys were working adults now, well jake was busy preparing for graduate school while you had a typical 9-5 job, so you couldn’t see jake as much as you used to. which makes you appreciate the rooftop talks a lot more. but it also helps you to push the feelings away. the less you see him, the more likely the feelings will go away, right?

you shrugged. “eh, the typical. wake up at 7, prepare, leave, arrive to work at 9, leave at 5, come back.” you were living in a constant cycle, the same thing over and over again.

maybe in another universe, you went on to pursue your actual dream of film, not taking the safe option.

jake looks at you sadly. “you should have some fun in your life! why not go out and date someone?”

ouch.

“as if,” you scoffed. “you scared off a couple of my exes while i was dating them.”

jake grins, clearly having no regrets. “they were assholes. i did you a huge favour.” he looks at you before starting to lie down, his head resting on your thigh. your heart skipped a beat. he could just breath and you will find reasons to fall for him all over again. “what are you doing?” you questioned, hoping that it’s too dark that he could not see your face turning red.

“this is comfortable,” he says, now laying down on your thigh while he looks up to the stars. “why do you love the stars so much?”

“i don’t know, why do you?” you asked without much thought.

“cause you like them.”

you paused at that. jake could have no other undertone in those words but your heart still managed to race a little faster. “oh,” was all you could say.

jake smiles at your reaction. “you liked them so much when we were kids, so i got interested in them.”

you smiled at that, your hands unconsciously going up to play with his fringe, before stopping yourself. “oh. sorry-“ you start to apologise, moving your hand away. but jake holds onto your hand, placing it back on his head. “don’t. it feels nice.”

you smiled softly but god, jake was not helping your case of losing feelings. he closes his eyes while you played with his hair. he looked so good, it made you breathless. the moonlight on his face, god, jake looked ethereal.

“but what about you?” he started to ask while you continue to play with his hair softly. “you seemed like you lost interest in the stars over the years.”

you paused, unsure of what to say. “it’s not that i lost interest …” your voice trails off. “nothing seems to be going my way in this universe.”

jake smiles softly at that, his eyes still closed while you continue to play with his hair. “but you still believe that there are different universes? you believe in the multiverse still, right?”

you nod. it was the one thing you couldn’t let go off. if you were going through something bad, you would always tell yourself that in another universe, a version of you is going through so much worse but is still pushing on. so, it gave you motivation in life.

“in another universe …” your voice trails off, thinking. “i got to do what i wanted in school.”

the aussie boy opens his eyes, looking at you. “in another universe, sunghoon didn’t take the last piece of chicken!”

you both laugh at that. this was the kid you fell for. the one who always had your heart even when you were dating other people.

you didn’t know what came over you but it was as if you had no control over yourself when your mouth started to form the words.

“in another universe …” you paused, before saying what you have always wanted to say. “we are dating.”

jake looks at you, with a certain look on his face that you could not quite tell. was it shock? was it happiness? or was it just nothing at all?

“i mean-“ you started to say to save yourself. you stopped playing with his hair, panicking. did that count as a confession? probably not. but it was something. “it’s the universe! there’s so many possibilities, you know?”

jake looks away, not saying anything. did i fuck up? you thought.

“how disappointing then,” he whispers.

disappointing? did he really see you as nothing but a friend?

“is the thought of dating me really that bad?” you joked, nervously laughing. jake shook his head, looking back at you. “it’s not that, just …” his voice trails off, his eyes staring right back at you. for once, he looked like he was staring at you the same way you looked at the stars.

“why can’t that be this universe?”

you paused. did you hear that right? “what?”

still looking at you, jake repeats what he said softly. “i said, why can’t us dating be in this current universe?”

your eyes widen. did he just …

“yes, idiot, i like you. a lot.”

all the words left your mouth. you did not know what to say. jake likes you back?

he looks at you, hoping for some type of reply or reaction from you. “i …” you begin to say. “… hope that we are living in the universe where we date, too.”

jake smiles at that, his hand going up to the back of your neck before pulling you down for a short and sweet kiss. he pulls away, both of you having the same childish grins on your face.

in another universe …

wait, no.

in this universe, you are happily dating the one that had your heart for years.

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strwbnnie · 1 year ago

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chileee what is up with me & angst 😭 I was able to salvage this from my notes so I thought why not post it lol probably my first and last aot piece cause idk how to write them fr 😭 & sorry to the Reiner loves cause I wrote him so mean 😭

cw: fat shaming, fat phobia, best friend Eren, ex-boyfriend Reiner, mention of cheating, verbal abuse, mention of k!lling, friends to lovers, one sided pining, sorry if I missed anything!

Word count is undetermined but it’s not that long.

❀

Eren hasn’t said a word to you since you arrived at his apartment, puffy eyed and soaking wet from the rain, just stepped out of the way and allowed you to walk in.

You didn’t blame him, it’d been quite a while since the two of you had last spoken. Two or three weeks maybe, you couldn’t remember. It was difficult keeping track of time when your mind was slowly but surely shutting down. Either way it made you feel like shit.

You wanted to to sit and talk to him but your first priority was getting out of those wet clothes. You went straight to his bedroom, closing yourself in the en-suite.

You let the shower run for a little bit, fogging up the room and hopefully drowning out your sorrow as you sit on the covered toilet, aimlessly scrolling. You checked the notifications on your phone, tapping around until you heard your ex-boyfriend’s voice projecting from the speakers.

“Baby, just come back home. Please, let’s just talk about it.” “Hear me out, Y/N. I’m sorry okay, just come back.”

The way he was pleading you’d think he actually gave a damn about you.

“Come on Y/N,” There’s a short pause and a deep sigh. You know it’s coming. You hear the change in his tone, that false compassion and empathy has withered away. “Let’s face it, Y/N. Nobody’s gonna want you but me. Nobody’s into fat bitches. You’re lucky your face is cute. Nothing but a pretty face and a hole to fuck. Or should I say holes? I’m sure a slut like you takes it up the ass too-.”

Globs of hot tears ran down your face, budding at your chin and pooling on the screen of your phone. You deleted the nasty voice message Reiner left, only thirteen seconds into the minute and twelve second voice message, his harsh words breaking your heart all over again.

The wound was still fresh and he did nothing but cut you deeper. Why was he like that???

Blocking his number so you wouldn’t receive anymore, you were ready to be done with this shit. Ready to heal from Reiner and all the bullshit he‘s put you through.

After your eyes are cried out and your skin is parched from the piping hot water, you finally exit.

You didn’t leave with anything except your purse, phone and the clothes on your back, so you’re more than grateful to see a white tshirt and a towel on Eren’s bed waiting for you. The shirt was a little tight on your arms and the hem ended right at the cusp of your butt but it was better than nothing.

The California King in his bedroom looked freshly made, plush and inviting, but you’d spent far too many nights alone in an empty bed while your so-called partner occupied another. You should’ve known that’s how it’d be when you decided to get yourself into a domesticated situationship with a narcissistic cheater.

You opted for the couch, where Eren was also sitting. He’s munching on a bowl of cereal watching some crime documentary. The atmosphere is dull, but it’s not as bad as you thought it’d be.

“Hey!”

He didn’t bother feigning the same excitement, sending nothing but a head nod you’re way but you’re still grateful to get something out of him.

Maybe he was annoyed, which he had every right to be. It was late as hell, around three in the morning, and you honestly felt a little bad. Showing up out of the blue and forcing him to share his space.

“I really appreciate you letting me stay here, there were no rooms available anywhere.”

He ignored you, you figured he would. He hasn’t said much since you’ve been there. He’s treating you as if you’re a stranger, almost.

Unfortunately the documentary has lost all of his interest, he figured out the wife was the killer all along and there’s no reason to keep watching.

Now he’s stretching out, manspreading if you will, with his legs cocked open. He’s sporting that same bored look, except now he’s on his phone watching TikTok’s with his volume obnoxiously loud.

Honestly, he didn’t even touch this app unless he was watching the shit ton of videos you sent him at some manic hour of the night. But right now he needed something to distract him. To distract him from everything only you made him feel.

“I get paid Friday, I can send you something once it’s deposited, my money lookin kinda funny right now so...”

You’d spent close to your last getting an Uber to Eren’s. You weren’t sure why you even decided to come to Eren’s. Your parents lived in the same city and they probably would’ve been more welcoming than he was being right about now.

“When have I ever asked you to pay me back for anything y/n?”

His tone isn’t cold or mean, but indifferent. Like he doesn’t care. You’re sure he doesn’t.

The tension is almost tangible, thick and suffocating.

“I know, but-“ You cut yourself off, stumbling over your words. Your throat is scratchy and your mouth dry. You didn’t know exactly what to say to mend things between you and your bestfriend.

You hoped to pick up the pieces. Pickup where you left off like the two of y’all always did. But this here just showed how dumb and deluded you really were.

“I’m sorry…you were right.” You feel ashamed. Embarrassed even.

You can feel him staring at you, so you keep your eyes glued to your hands in your lap, twirling your thumbs in hopes to make amends.

“What are you talking about, y/n?” You can feel his gaze boring into you.

“About Reiner…and every-everything else really. We not getting back together, forreal this time, I can’t.”

He was right about everything. Reiner was an immature asshole. You trusted his smooth talking, pretty smile and it backfired horrendously.

Reiner was verbally abusive, insecure and mean, and he projected it without a care. Tore you down every chance he got, belittling you until you were almost an empty shell of your former self.

On top of that, he was insensitive as hell, bullied you worse than any of those middle and high school nobodies you no longer remembered.

He’d probably use his last breath to lie, just because. If you were blind he’d tell you the sun was blue and the sky was yellow, for no reason whatsoever other than to be a dick.

All of this Eren warned you about, but you just had to go and see for yourself. You fell for the first boy to show interest in you. The first to give you attention and affection. The first one who wasn’t looking to ‘try it out’ with a fat girl or looked at you like some pity case.

So you thought.

“You’ve said that before.”

“I know! But I mean it this time, and I’m so sorry for ghosting you and lying a-and putting him first before our friendship cause..I know you wouldn’t do that to me and I’m such an awful person-.”

Your sniffles turned into sobs, deep sobs that shook your entire body against his when he finally went against his stubborn ways and pulled you into a hug.

You sound sincere, but Eren doesn’t know if he believes you. Hell it wouldn’t be the first time you lied to him about getting back with Reiner.

He wanted to tell you off. Scold you and yell at you for abandoning him. For giving him your ass to kiss cus you thought you were in love, only to come crawling back asking him to pick up the fucking pieces, again.

“I should’ve listened to you.”

Words muffled into his chest but he heard you.

“You should’ve.” He doesn’t mean to sound condescending but it’s true. “I don’t like seeing you cry.”

His voice startled you a little bit, velvety and deep, chest rumbling as he still had you pressed up against his frame. The aloof facade cracking with each sob.

“I’ll handle it.”

He’d handle it. Handle him.

His arms embraced you tighter. One holding you against him while the other ran down your back, over your thigh then back up again as he allowed you to bawl your eyes out.

“I hate when you talk like that Ren,” You leaned back to look at him. “You know I don’t like unnecessary viole-.”

He grabs your face mid sentence, squishing your cheeks together, your lips round and pouty as you stared back at him.

“How’s it unnecessary when my princess is sitting here with tears running down her pretty ass face?”

It slipped but he made no attempt to correct it.

His princess. He’d always called you a princess, especially when y’all were younger. He found it very intriguing how spoiled you were, especially by the men in your life. Dad, uncles, even Eren himself.

He remembers saving up his little paychecks from working part time to spoil you as well, buying you little trinkets and gifts you probably didn’t even have anymore.

Nothing was unnecessary when it came to his princess. He’d die for you. Kill for you, even. You were the light of his dim life. Why wouldn’t you just realize it?

979 notes · View notes

whositmcwhatsit · 7 months ago

Text

Since this started out as a birthday fic, I really wanted to get Chapter 2 done in time for my birthday, but I missed my deadline by 4 days.

Never mind.

Thanks, as ever, to the cheerleading and alpha-reading of @thatbanditqueen, who bestowed the glowing critique of 'tolerable' to this labour of love.

Anyone needing to catch up, here is Chapter One

Chapter Two

For two weeks after the night Aurora barged into Elvis Presley’s house and somehow didn’t get chased out by security, the ladies at the hair salon would ask her every day if she had heard from him.

At first, when she told them no, they would smile gleefully and say it was going to happen any day, after all he must have asked for her number for a reason. Then, the smiles began to dim and they would start to make excuses to make her feel better. She felt like she was letting them down each time she had to answer in the negative. There was no space to feel her own disappointment because she was carrying enough for other people.

After that two weeks, it petered out into sympathetic looks and attempts to ‘cheer her up’. Honestly, Aurora didn’t need the cheering up, though of course she took all the free food and extra tips that were offered. It had been a strange, fun, surreal experience, but men like Elvis didn’t call back girls like her. She had already got way more than she deserved.

Joanne showed up just before closing one Thursday when even the sympathy was beginning to fade and Aurora was sadly eyeing the dip in her tips. Joanne threw herself into Aurora’s chair, studying her Farrah bangs with a critical eye in the mirror and trying to rake the volume back into them with her fingers.

Aurora nudged her legs out of the way with her hip as she swept under the vanity, feeling tired, hot and impatient after a long day. She was envisioning a cold shower and laying flat on the back porch with the noisy fan, maybe sneaking a beer from the ice box before her mama got home.

“You’ll never guess who I bumped into last night,” Joanne began.

“Probably not,” Aurora agreed, shoving the broom into the closet and going to collect her purse from the poky kitchen in the back.

“That guy Dave? Elvis Dave.” Aurora wondered how he would feel to know that he had that nickname while ignoring the way her stomach swooped at just the ‘e word’. “I was at the gas station with Beverly from work and he pulled up in that sweet ride of his and blocked me in.”

Aurora was trying to feign nonchalance as she felt Joanne’s eyes studying her intensely in the mirror.

“Why? Did he even call you after that night?”

“Nope, and I didn’t expect him to since I didn’t give him my number and we’re not in the book. You guys aren’t either, are you?”

“No, Mama thinks having a lady’s name in the phone book is like advertising that you’re easy pickings for creeps and weirdos.”

Joanne nodded, because they had known each other long enough that Aurora’s mama and her ‘interesting’ ideas were not a revelation.

“So, giving Elvis the wrong number, was that a brush-off?”

“What?”

“Dave said that the number you gave Elvis was for a store, a hardware place or paint… something like that.”

Trying to force her brain back through the hot sludge of the days since, Aurora was sure that she had written down the right number. Or had she? Her penmanship was not going to win any awards on a good day. At dawn after an eventful night…

“So, it was a mistake?” Joanne asked as they stepped out into the dripping heat of the late afternoon and walked across the parking lot to Aurora’s busted old Pontiac GTO. Aurora eyed the dented fender ruefully and ran her hand over the dusty hood as if in apology.

“Oh my God!” She covered her burning face with her hands, laughing slightly manically. “I’m such a loser!” What must he have thought of her?! Wait, he had called her! A dam had broken in her brain and all the thoughts were rushing and swirling around, taking out any sensible notions in their path.

“Well, that’s good, ‘cause I gave Dave the right one.”

“What?”

“You made a mistake giving him the wrong number?” Joanne was a smart girl. Street smart anyway, but that was probably the dumbest question she had ever asked.

“Yes!”

Despite the overly airy way Joanne said it, it hit Aurora like she had put force into it. The way her stomach swooped was unexpected since she had even been denying to herself that she was upset by the radio silence. For a brief, quavering moment she let herself get excited, maybe even a little bit hopeful, before practicality rammed down to crush those emotions into tiny specks. It was stupid, it was all so stupid: her jolting whenever the phone rang, the relief at realizing she had given him the wrong number and that he had tried to call her, the excitement that he might try again.

At no point in Aurora’s years on Earth had anyone or anything ever been cruel enough to lie to her about her station in life or what she should expect from it. No, God had been kind and straight with her from the get-go: His plan for her was basic, a very rough draft if you will, a couple of words scribbled on an old envelope.

“So, you gonna come out?” Joanne asked, fiddling with the fringe of her purse. “Or you thinking you’ll head home and wait by the phone?” Aurora rolled her eyes as she opened the creaking car door and dropped into the oven-like interior.

“I am gonna go home, take a cold shower and probably pass out in front of the tv,” she corrected.

“Sure you are.” Joanne leant in the window and poked her index finger against Aurora’s forehead, laughing as Aurora swatted it away. “Drive safe rushing home to wait by the phone.”

“Only thing I’m in danger of is cracking a headlight driving it into your smart ass!”

Joanne’s cackle traveled across the mainly deserted lot, the nail polish of her extended middle finger catching the light just beautifully. Aurora snorted as she turned over the car, praying through the warm-up grinding and growling.

“C’mon, baby, don’t let me down,” she murmured to the dash, patting the wheel appeasingly. “You can do it.”

It took a few more seconds of sweat sliding into uncomfortable places before the engine finally caught and the car revved. Aurora let out the warm, stale air she’d been holding in her lungs and peeled out, eager to catch the breeze through her open window.

The phone was ringing when she pulled up at the house.

Without thinking about it, she left the car in neutral and shot inside, leaving all the doors open between her and the receiver.

“Hello?” She was afraid that she might not be able to hear the caller because of the swirling whooshing sound of her blood pumping around her body and her heart pounding in her ears, but her grandma came through crisp and clear, complaining that her fan wasn’t working properly and that Aurora’s cousin Denny had promised to come round and take a look at it, but had not shown up yet. It was all Aurora could do to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

Tapping her fingers against the formica surface of the telephone table, Aurora willed Denny and his lazy ass to show up so that Grandma would get off the phone to yell at him instead, but of course that little shit was probably already out, fumigating some bar or disco with his Old Spice.

Biting down on a sigh, Aurora reached out with her leg and hooked a chair from the kitchen with her foot and dragged it over so that she could rest her weary legs as her grandma started talking about which of her friends had died, lost their husbands or bailed their grandkids out of jail this week.

Nearly an hour later, still cursing Denny, Grandma announced that she didn’t want to waste any more of Aurora’s time, because no one wants to hear a silly old woman prattling on, and Aurora of course told her she wasn’t silly or old and she loved her and loved talking to her, which earned her another thirty minutes on the phone before she finally managed to hang up. Her elbow ached, her hand was numb in patches and the hair around her ear was damp with sweat. And Elvis had probably called another girl by now, some beauty queen whose grandma never tied up her phone line.

Weary in every way, she trudged through the little one storey house, returning out front to grab her car keys out of the ignition and shut the door. Brian, who used to go to school with her brother, lifted his beer bottle up at her from where he was sitting on the steps of his front porch across the street and she threw up her hand as she turned to go back into the house.

Mama got home later, complaining about her manager and the new girl whose cash desk hadn’t come out even at the end of her shift.

“It’s not like she even has to add up the change in her little pea brain!” she ranted, leaning over the pot of spaghetti that Aurora had thrown together earlier. “Spaghetti, in this heat, Rora?”

“Nothing else,” Aurora shrugged. “I’ll pick up some groceries after work.” She fought very hard not to point out that her mother worked in a damn store the size of a warehouse full of food that she could easily buy after work, because that sort of back talk never ended well.

“I thought you’d be out tonight,” Mama said later, sipping from a beer as she pushed the congealing spaghetti around her plate on the little stand, eyes on Barnaby Jones on TV. “Betty was saying that Joanne was going to Ladies Night over at Sal’s. They got a new bartender that looks like that boy from… Lord, what was it, ‘Shazam’?”

“Yeah, maybe in the dark with your eyes closed!” Aurora snorted.

“Betty’s always had her work cut out for her with that one. Back in my day, her folk’s would’ve been hurrying to get her tied up with some nice boy before they ended up having to send her away to family in the country for a few months, if you get my drift.”

“Mama! She’s not that bad. You can’t tell me y’all didn’t go crazy about boys when you were kids. Aunt Margie told me about how you never sat out any dances when you were our age.”

“Yeah well, Marg should mind her own business and pay more attention to that son of hers. You know, he promised Grandma days ago that he’d take a look at her fan and she’s still waiting.”

“I know,” Aurora sighed. Boy, did she know.

Admitting defeat, Aurora finally climbed into bed just before midnight, checking the screen of her open window before settling down with a huff. Maybe she should have gone out with Joanne. As much as she knew that Thursday nights at Sal’s were a horror show, it didn’t stop that nagging feeling in her stomach that maybe she had let something slip away, and ignored possibilities. At the very least, she would have laughed until her sides hurt as she and Joanne danced to the jukebox.

Tomorrow night, she told herself as she drifted off, her blurring eyes fixed on the shard of moonlight that sliced into her dresser.

The moon had set by the time she startled awake a few hours later. Her mother was hunched over her, a silhouette of curlers and rounded shoulders, fingers tight against her shoulders.

“Rora, wake up!”

“What’shappeningisitbad,” she mumbled as the pieces of her conscious mind tried to converge and accidentally passed one another, blurring even further. She jolted as her mother shook her even harder.

“Wake up! There’s someone on the phone asking for you.”

“What? Why?” Aurora squinted at her mother who seemed flustered, fiddling with her headscarf and the neck of her nightgown over and over.

Trying to blink sleep from her eyes, Aurora let her feet drop heavily to the floor and shoved herself up into a seated position. With her eyes half closed, she shuffled out into the kitchen and picked up the receiver laying against the counter.

“Hmmmello?”

“Hi, is this… Aurora?” Whoever was on the phone said it like a substitute teacher trying to take attendance, not sure whether they were being played.

“Uh, hmm, yeah. Who’s this?”

“I’m gonna ask you to hold one for a minute.” There was fumbling, which she might have found intriguing if she hadn’t been sprawled with her cheek against the counter, eyes squeezed shut against the brutal overhead light.

More fumbling.

“You are one difficult chick to track down, Tiger, you know that?! Goddamn.”

“Elvis?” she said, even as her brain was processing the voice. At the same time, her mother prodded her sharply in the back, whether to get some sort of explanation or to make her stand up straight while having a conversation with the King, who knew, and Aurora was not about to pause the proceedings to find out.

“Yeah, Elvis,” he returned, miraculously making a drawl drip with sarcasm. “You were taking ‘seek and ye shall find’ a little too far, weren’t ya, sweetheart? Almost called out the US Marshals trying to track you down.”

It sounded like a fifty-fifty split on whether he found the mix-up amusing or annoying and she couldn’t help cringing into her hand yet again, but he was calling. He was calling!

“Not sure, early… or late, one of the two. Goddamn, I can’t believe I finally got you. I bet you didn’t think I’d be able to do it, right? I tell you, ain’t nobody won money betting against me, honey, really.”

“Hello?! Sonovabitch, d’I lose her again?” She giggled at his mumbling and quickly interjected:

“Hello! No, I’m just trying to wake up. What time is it?”

Aurora opened her mouth to explain that she hadn’t given him the wrong number on purpose, that she wasn’t the sort of girl that set a scavenger hunt for anyone wanting to call her, but he was talking fast and leaving no place to jump in.

“Anyhow, the reason I was really callin’ was to make sure you’re takin’ care of Cupcake. You looking after him, feeding him, petting him and all that?”

“You mean Muffin?” She glanced up over the counter at the large tiger ornament sitting in pride of place on top of the TV. “Course I am.”

“Hot damn, Muffin, that was it! Well, are you sure? I feel like maybe I should barge into your house in the middle of the night and find out for myself, you know?”

Aurora couldn’t force a laugh, couldn’t even inhale as her dismayed eyes surveyed the sagging couch and faded wallpaper. If Elvis Presley set eyes on her home he would know everything there was to know about her within ten seconds and lose interest.

“You don’t even know where I live,” she prodded with a shaky wheeze. “And even if you think you do, you’re wrong. I could bring him to you? You want to check on him so bad, I’ll send him on over to you.”

There was a long pause, Aurora’s turn to wonder whether she had lost him, and when he spoke again there was an odd intonation to his voice, a knowingness that made her feel flayed open for all to see.

“Yeah, you should come here, bring ole Cupmuffincake so I can check you’re treating him right. I’d send someone over to pick you up.” She heard murmuring and the edge of Elvis’ voice cutting through the muffled sound like he was having a conversation with his hand over the receiver, and it hit her what was happening.

“Hello? Elvis! Hello?!”

“Honey, I’m just-”

“I can’t come now. I’ve got work in the morning- soon!”

There was another long pause. Each time, she balanced on her toes, wondering if this was the time, this was the final straw and he would hang up, give up, and drop her.

“I- I understand, your- your job’s important.” He sounded like a bad actor at a table read. She suspected that he had long forgotten quite how important a job was if you wanted a roof to stop the rain falling on your head and food in the ice box to stop you starving to death. “What time d’you get off work, honey?”

“I can finish at five,” she replied, knowing she could reschedule her last appointment. “And I can drive over. You don’t need to send anyone. I know where you live after all.” She forced a little laugh, but his voice was subdued when he replied:

“Yeah, I guess you do. After five then? You’ll come straight over?”

“Sure, I’ll come straight there.” She was reassuring him, like she was doing him a favor by showing up at his mansion all sweaty and messed up after a day of work. She wasn’t sure how this situation had come about, but had no doubt that it was wrong. A man who has a wall with gates around his property and security guards, cameras and barbed wire on fences did not have to make anyone promise to come to his house.

Elvis then told her that he had been planning on going for a ride on his motorcycle. He asked if she had ever ridden one before and when she admitted that she had, because she sensed that he had wanted her to say no, he assured her that his was better than whatever souped up

bicycle she had tried before. He made her promise that she would come dressed for a motorcycle ride.

“You know, one time this one little girl showed up here in a cute little dress. Hair done up all pretty and everything, see, and-” He laughed to himself. “You should’ve seen her after we’d gone out on the hogs. She was all mad and I said to her, I said, I ain’t the kind of guy that just sits around, you know, having a damn tea party on a date. I gotta, I gotta be doing something, going somewhere, otherwise I’m gonna get bored.” He sighed loudly into the phone and Aurora half imagined she felt it against her cheek. She wondered if he was telling her this because he didn’t want her to think that she was visiting to sit on his bed and read books again, or to let her know that their night together had been a rare occurrence and she shouldn’t expect more of the same.

“Well, I promise not to wear a cute dress or make any effort with my hair.”

“You are trouble,” he laughed. “I knew it the moment I saw you, man. Trouble with a capital T! I’ll tell ‘em not to let you in, you see if I won’t.”

When they finally hung up, Aurora again had an aching elbow, stiff elbow and partially numb hand. She turned slightly and faced her mother, who had been walking in and out the kitchen throughout the whole conversation. She eyed her pointedly over a cup of coffee.

“I know he’s Elvis, but I think that means he owns a watch or two,” she remarked. “And some of us need to be getting up at a decent hour to get to work.”

“I know, Mama, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect it.”

“Just…” Her mother sighed, lowering the coffee cup from her mouth. “Just be careful, honey. Remember Memphis is chock full of girls that Elvis used to call at 3AM.”

“I know, Mama.”

Afterwards, Aurora would have no recollection of her day at work, and was surprised that she received no complaints about uneven bangs or stripey dye jobs. Her mind was definitely not on her tasks. She kept planning and replanning and unplanning what she was going to wear. What outfit would look like she had made some effort, but also wouldn’t have her showing her underwear to passing motorists on a motorcycle? She needed to look like she belonged with Elvis, but couldn't afford the time and money that would require.

Although, maybe that was the point? Maybe he was making a show of slumming it, maybe he wanted her to look ordinary? She couldn’t think why that would be, other than some sort of publicity strategy? She imagined herself, wide-eyed, her waves flattened after the heat of the salon, eyeliner caking in the creases of her eyes, staring out from the front page of the National Enquirer as it screamed: “Elvis drops his standards!”

When work finally ended, she sped home, ignoring the ringing phone and performing a hop, skip and jump into the shower that would have qualified her for the upcoming summer olympics. She brushed her teeth and blow dried her hair at the same time, shaving her legs and layering on the eyeliner like a motivated octopus.

She was pulling up at the gates of Graceland by 6.30, both annoyed and relieved that no one would ever know the heroic efforts she had made just to be there. She gave her name to the guard at the gate house, maintaining eye contact like a crazy person as if this would convince him that she wasn’t trying to sneak in without an invite. You know, like she technically had done a couple of weeks before.

When the gates started to swing open, she hesitated a little too long, not quite believing that it was for her, and also a little frightened that it was. The guard came back out and directed her up the right hand side of the drive as if she was unsure of where to go.

After Aurora pulled up in front of the famous portico in her grubby, dented Pontiac, she waited. She had no idea what she was supposed to do next. Ring on the doorbell like a nervous prom date? Ding dong, Avon calling? Hi, can my friend Elvis come out to play?

When she had come before, they had parked around the back of the house, but that seemed too familiar. She smiled as she thought of fans standing at the gates and glimpsing her rusty old lemon through the trees parked in front of a millionaire’s mansion. It just summed up this whole silly situation.

Finally, she climbed out of her car, grabbing her jacket and purse as she stared up at the looming fieldstone walls with their barred windows. The windows gave off a strange vibe, a sense of seeing and being seen, and she glanced away, the loser in the staring competition.

Aurora had barely rung the bell when the front door swung open and a short, older guy, who may or may not have been wearing eyeliner, stood beaming at her like they were best friends.

“Well now, you must be Aurora. Everyone said you were a pretty little thing. C’mon in, darlin’, don’t be shy. I’m Charlie.”

Aurora thought of herself as a pretty good judge of character, a skill hard won through bad experiences. And this Charlie made her think of the uncles you knew to avoid at family gatherings, especially once they had a few drinks in them. Something about the amount of teeth in his smile compared to the lack of warmth in his eyes. She trusted her gut and took a few steps away from the arm he had wrapped around her back.

“Well, Elvis is right upstairs. I think you know your way around up there, right, darlin’?” She forced a smile a second too late and they were stuck in a toothy standoff as Aurora wheeled round in a wide arc and headed for the stairs, her cheeks burning at Charlie’s insinuation. She wondered what Elvis had said to him.

As she climbed the stairs, Aurora’s mind was strobing with thoughts. The first, obviously, was marveling at how thick and soft the carpet was. It would be very difficult to have an argument and stomp down the stairs here. The second was that she was walking up to Elvis Presley’s bedroom, invited, and that would never stop being surreal. She caught sight of herself in the mirrored panels on the wall and checked her teeth for lipstick and wiped beneath her eyes.

Reaching the landing, she heard the resonating sound of an organ being played and she faltered, but reminded herself yet again that she had been invited.

When she reached the doorway of what she vaguely remembered being an office she had passed through last time, she caught sight of Elvis, just his back and side profile as he sat at the organ. Another man, slight and shorter, was standing by it as an audience of one.

It seemed rude to interrupt the intimate concert, so she waited in the doorway, listening as Elvis sang a hymn, putting in as much effort as she imagined he did when performing to thousands. It made the hair on her arms prickle the way his rich voice enveloped her and an odd stillness fell upon her, in spite of her nerves and the awkwardness of the situation. Somehow he managed to distract her into forgetting she was anxious without even being aware she was watching him.

With a grand flourish of his hands on the organ, Elvis brought the song to a close with a tremulous plink of the last key on the keyboard and then laughed quietly to himself and his one man audience, mumbling something only his friend could hear.

‘Go in!’ Aurora silently instructed her feet. ‘Just walk forward!’ They picked the worst time to launch a mutiny.

Sliding his fingers across the keys again, Elvis sang, “She thinks I don’t know she’s there” to the tune of the George Jones’ song ‘She Thinks I Still Care’. She could feel her cheeks heating up as he looked over his shoulder straight at her, a playful grin lifting and lighting up his face so that she was smiling before she could think.

“Look, there she is, Billy, the damn fugitive. Tell her- Tell Tiger what you said to me, man-”

As Billy went to open his mouth, Elvis gripped his shoulder while rising from the organ bench and spoke over him like a little kid who couldn’t wait to share the secret.

��See, man, I told you she was real! Y’all think I’m crazy- and I am- but not this time. Come in here, honey, come let us all have a real look at you.”

“I had him and some of my other guys searching high and low for this girl called Aurora, and after a while, ole Marble Eyes here says to me- Tell her what you said-” Billy managed to get one word out before they finished in unison:

“Elvis, I ain’t so sure this girl really exists!” The two men laughed, and Aurora was glad that the annoyance that had been dripping from his words on the phone seemed to have evaporated. Elvis slapped Billy in the chest with the back of his hand and gestured at her.

Apparently Aurora’s feet paid more attention to Elvis than to her, because they walked her right into the room like the traitorous traitors they were.

“See?” Elvis said to Billy in a low voice, seemingly settling an argument that extended beyond whether or not she really existed. Billy shrugged, a little grin on his face, but Aurora didn’t miss the way his eyes, though not as jarringly dissonant as Charlie’s, followed Elvis almost anxiously as he crossed the room to meet her.

Even though Aurora was wearing a thin jacket, she still thought she could feel the heat of Elvis’ touch as he squeezed her shoulders and leant in to lightly kiss her cheek. In fact, the temperature of the air around her seemed to shoot up as she breathed in his spicy citrus cologne and squinted slightly to stop him blurring around the edges.

“Yeah, you’re real alright,” he murmured, his hand sliding down her arm and his fingers tangling with her own as he stepped back and brazenly looked her up and down. It was a struggle not to recoil, attempt to cover herself or blush, but she sensed that this was what he was testing, pushing to see if she would crumble or curl up under the weight of scrutiny.

“Honey, I know you came after work and all, but don’t you think you could’ve dressed up a little?” His tone was teasing and he was smiling, but the question was clearly genuine. She looked down at her red cotton flares and then back at his baby blue leisure suit with the racquetball court logo on the chest. That was the moment the cushiony awe and anxiety wore through; she could almost hear the -pop- of the bubble and then it was just her.

“Watch your damn mouth,” he laughed. “Remember who pays all the bills around this goddamn place. Keep on and I’ll take that fucking trailer and give it to the dogs, man. Edmund’ll be pissing up the walls by next week!”

“You were the one who told me not to wear a dress!” she returned spiritedly, looking him square in the face for the first time. “You said we were going out for a ride and not to get too dressed up.” He paused, his expression uncharacteristically blank, and she almost started questioning herself, until Billy, who she had forgotten was still standing there by the organ, put in:

“Oh, hell, you don’t listen to what he says. There’s a reason we all call him Crazy, you know.” He had a soft, slightly country, soothing kind of voice and almost like magic, Elvis’ cloudy expression burst into radiant sunshine again as he feinted an attack on Billy.

Aurora stood stock still as Billy darted around her, jerking out of the way of a reckless and, judging by the way that Elvis grunted as he did it, forceful karate chop that cut through the air so close to the side of her head that her hair ruffled.

“Boys, no roughhousing in the house!” she said with forced playfulness.

They were all playing along, Aurora realized. Even she was acting out a script that she had not glimpsed, but had immediately started reading her lines and hitting her marks just as readily as Billy with his teasing words that masked worried eyes, and Charlie with the wide easy smile that tried to outshine something slightly twisted and angry beneath the surface. And Elvis? Either he was one of the greatest actors of all time, or this was him. It unnerved her the way that she couldn’t read him like she read most people, that he had no tell she could easily discern.

Billy edged backwards towards the door and Elvis slowly advanced on him. Aurora decided to choose self-preservation and step out of the way, but Elvis moved too and scooped her up against him, suddenly losing all interest in Billy. Aurora found herself with her face pressed against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist to stop herself from flailing backwards and one of his palms hard between her shoulder blades, while the fingers of his other hand gripped her hip.

“Oh, what do we have here,” he murmured in a soft little boy’s voice that should not have caused her to shiver and break out in goosebumps as his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “Got myself a tiger by the tail.” His hands slid slowly down over the curve of her ass, thumbs kneading into the muscle and she took a sharp inhale, but then he started patting around frantically, practically spanking her. “Uh oh, no tail.”

Aurora threw back her head, almost choking on a laugh as his sideburns tickled against the line of her throat and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. When he pulled back, pink-faced with his hair all rumpled, she found herself reaching up to smooth it without hesitation, only pausing when her fingers were tangled in his inky black locks. They stared at each other in a freeze frame, her, wide-eyed and panicked at her over familiarity; him with his eyes sparkling and his cheeks brimming as his lips twisted into a little smirk. She dropped her hand awkwardly, though her other arm was still gripping his waist as she remained draped across his chest and stomach. To stop herself from falling, she reminded herself.

“I brought a dress,” she blurted. “For after we went for a ride.” His smile spread wider and she could almost feel it cracking her wide open even as all her defenses battened down the hatches.

“Well, we ain’t going for a ride right now, honey,” he informed her. After taking a momentary study of her face with his head tilted pensively, he added, “I’m gonna give you the tour.” He nodded to someone behind her and she twisted slightly to see Billy still leaning in the doorway. Elvis, it seemed, needed an audience to his flirting just as much as he needed one for his singing.

It would have seemed impossible to her a couple of weeks earlier, the thought of her being led by the hand around Elvis’ mansion by Elvis himself, listening and laughing as he swung between genuine pride and mocking himself.

“And this here is the whore house,” he announced as they stood in the archway looking over the living room. She took in the overabundance of red, gold and white, feathers, velvet and shag, glad that he had said that first. She was beginning to notice that about him, his ability to predict reactions and pre-empt them with a joke or a sly comment, like he was somehow with you as you viewed him, making it impossible to feel enough distance to gain proper perspective, or really any distance at all.

“Where are they?” she asked, since feeling predictable didn’t quite sit right with her. “All the ‘ladies’?” She made a show of looking around.

“Oh, honey, we don’t talk about that,” he replied, moving ahead and tugging her through the living room towards another doorway curtained in chintzy red and being guarded by glass peacocks. “All of this was white before that fateful night.”

The unexpected laugh exploded out of her and she yanked her hand away from the loose grip of his fingers to slap both of her hands across her mouth. Smirking again, that naughty little smile made her stomach try and wrench itself into ringlets, he glanced over at Billy, who was laughing. “Little Billy here still has nightmares.”

“You’re…” She scrambled for the words, silly, naughty, crude, funny, amazing, unpredictable, so much better than I would have thought. “Crazy. You’re just crazy.”

Through the music room, they passed through a hallway into what Elvis called the ‘Trophy Room’. Aurora was overwhelmed by all the items to look at. There were toys, clothing, paintings, ornaments, photos, plaques, citations, actual trophies and then the records, endless shiny metal discs with little plaques recording unimaginable achievements. Aurora slowly traversed the long room, peering into cases, lips moving as she read so many declarations of admiration and adoration.

Glancing up from a trophy that recognised him as ‘The World’s Greatest Entertainer of All Time’ from ‘The Loving You Fan Club of Murcia and Alicante’, she looked over to where he was talking quietly to Billy by the door. He glanced over too and winked as they locked eyes, so she had to turn and stare very intently at a creepy doll thankfully encased in a glass cabinet until she could feel the blush cooling from her cheeks.

“It’s like a whole museum of you,” she marveled, finally wandering back in their direction.

Elvis seemed to misunderstand, mumbling awkwardly about needing to have somewhere to store everything because someone took the time to give it to him, so she risked interrupting him.

“I mean, having this solid proof of everything you’ve done and how much you’re loved. It’s amazing, it must make you smile just walking in here. It’s unreal!”

The clouds that threatened to beset his mood drifted back and he shrugged diffidently, this little smile diametrically opposed to his naughty smirk. He looked positively bashful.

“It is unreal, man,” he murmured. “I keep waiting to wake up and find out this Elvis fella wants his life back.” He shrugged again and absently grabbed her chin with his fingers. “Well, we gotta make the most of it before he does.” He moved her head up and down, a strange little mime reflecting him back.

Aurora tried to ooh and aah in the right places as she was led through Elvis’ plush, sleek racquetball court. Having never even heard of the game before, Aurora mentioned that she had never played and he squinted at her cryptically and assured her that she would, sounding like a fortune teller who could foresee oddly specific destinies.

“I’m pretty good at pinball though,” she offered, eyeing up the machine with all its shiny chrome and flashing lights. No greasy fingerprints and rust to be seen, unlike the one at the bowling alley that she used to feed her lunch money when she was hiding out from spelling tests or book reports.

“Maybe later, Tiger,” Elvis murmured, ushering her past Billy and back out into the darkening night.

Aurora looked around as the inky shadows started to claim the white fences and golden fieldstone and let out an awed breath. Imagine having all of this at your fingertips, so much to look at, to entertain you, to enjoy just right there for the taking. It was just so titillating that she couldn’t even bring herself to feel any envy. It seemed an impossibly perfect existence, something too good to even yearn for.

“Over there’s the barn and the horses and so on,” Elvis said, waving his hand flippantly. “I’ll show you some time.” That, at least, she was glad to postpone since horses had frightened her since she was a kid. Her head was still on a swivel as they walked back along the little walkway to the house, her eyes desperately trying to drink everything in.

Ending up in the kitchen made Aurora smile, thinking back to her last visit. During the past couple of weeks she had been regretting how fast it had all happened and how little she had taken in. The next morning, she could barely answer the breathless, demanding questions of her customers as they quizzed her on what colors the carpets were and how many cars were in the carport. This time, she was determined that she was going to take note of everything, just in case it was her last opportunity.

“You got eyes as big as this ‘un here,” Elvis remarked, jerking a thumb at Billy, who shrugged and smiled good naturedly. “You've seen all this before.”

“No, you were distracting me too much before,” she returned. “I didn’t take it in.”

“Me distracting you?! That’s rich when you- you showed up in your little shorts with your legs and everything.”

“Oh, the shorts did it for you?” she smirked.

To her surprise, Elvis gave her an almost stern shake of his head, and she hesitated, finding herself on unstable ground. Brusquely, he informed Billy he would call him later, told the cook to send up some drinks, and then headed towards the stairs Aurora now knew led up to his bedroom. It was only when he turned and flashed her an impatient look that she realized he expected her to follow him.

As she trailed after his broad back, trying not to look at the way the chains hanging from the belt peeking from beneath the hem of his jacket were swaying and bouncing as he slowly climbed the staircase, she replayed their exchange in the kitchen, trying to understand what had made him switch so suddenly. He had started it with his comment about her shorts, she had only been repeating what he said.

They stepped back into the office and then through into the bedroom, where Elvis whirled round and kissed her. It happened so fast that she didn’t have time to prepare, nor get flustered. Instead, her body did what came naturally and melted like ice in a furnace. It was as if he enveloped her, the warmth of him, the smell of him, the feel of him all around her and, as his tongue lapped tentatively against her pliant lips, within her. Her forearms were just beginning to slide up his chest, hands scrambling to touch and grip, when he stepped back. It took her a while to register that he was talking, her eyes fixated on the sheen of his puffy, wet lips as he spoke.

“Been waiting to do that again for, what is it now, a month, two months?”

“Two weeks,” she corrected cautiously.

“Two weeks, shit. Every time I close my damn eyes, I keep seeing those itty bitty shorts and thinking-” He cut off as his eyes fell upon her mouth and his lips curled slightly. Leaning forward to nibble on her lower lip, he let out a small grunt at the back of his throat as he pushed in to deepen it. Aurora didn’t react. A long second passed.

“What’s the matter, honey?” He was so close that she could count individual eyelashes and examine the crease between his brows as he frowned. Her heart gave a weird flutter at the concern she saw in his face. “Are you okay? Did I-”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just… Did I do something? Before in the kitchen?”

He shook his head, trying to jostle away her confusion along with his own awkwardness as he replied:

“I don’t like to do that kind of thing in front of the staff, especially the ladies in the kitchen. It ain’t respectful.”

Aurora swallowed a giggle upon seeing the sincerity in his face, but somehow, again, he read her mind and gave her side a poke with a long finger.

“You think that’s kinda old fashioned and silly, huh,” he remarked, teeth clenched in a playful show of irritation. She jerked at the painful poke, but let out the laughter she had been trying to suppress.

“Not silly,” she soothed. “It’s cute.”

“I ain’t cute, goddamn it!” he snapped. “Get on the damn bed, woman! I’ll show you how cute I am!”

Aurora raised her eyebrows, but before she could scoop together the words, he clutched her waist and kissed her hard to the point where her lips were almost painfully jammed against her teeth. He could only seem to bear to do this for so long however before he adjusted, and his soft pillowy lips kneaded hers. His breath fell light upon her cheek as his hands reached up to cradle the sides of her face.

“Get up on the bed, baby,” he murmured gently this time. “Please.”

“Since you asked nicely.”

She used her feet to pry off her shoes and clambered up onto the center of the expansive bed, where she dropped onto her back with her arms and legs spread like a starfish. She noticed the two television screens mounted in the ceiling and rolled instinctively, hit by sudden claustrophobic dread that they were pushing down on her.

The roll was just in time to meet Elvis joining her on the bed, and he caught hold of her by the shoulder and hip and slid her closer to him with practiced ease.

How many girls had lay in this bed, she wondered, even as she succumbed to his embrace and flexed her fingers up into the fine, silky hair at the back of his head. Did he ever wake up and not remember who his companion was until he pulled back the blankets? Did his memory ever shuffle through them all like flicking the pages of a photo album?

She was thinking too much, she was definitely thinking too much. Here she was, laying pressed up against Elvis Presley, his tongue caressing hers while his fingertips stroked a path down her neck and into the opening of her shirt and she was imagining other more beautiful women spread out in her place.

WIth effort, she emptied her mind and smeared her lips across his round cheek and down to his jaw, scrunching up her nose at the tickling from his sideburn. She tasted the salt from his skin as her mouth journeyed down his warm neck, pressing kisses against the rough, burgeoning stubble and flickering pulse beneath.

He growled a little at the back of his throat and submitted. No, submitted was not the right word, because he was practically pushing his neck against her mouth, hungry for more, reveling in the caressing care of her lips and the teasing of her teeth nibbling beneath.

Aurora could feel sweat beginning to bead at the small of her back and across her chest pressed beneath the weighty, hot pressure of his torso still covered in layers of clothing.

Blind and dumb with eagerness, she pulled back slightly and reached for the zipper of his jacket, already halfway down, trying to gain further access and salivating at the thought of his chest that she had glimpsed through the deep open vee of his shirt, adorned with damp, curls of hair. He grabbed her bicep wordlessly and pushed it back, pressing it up onto the pillows at the side of her head. The weight of him followed and she felt her legs forced apart by the pressure of a solid thigh slotting between them and pushing against the tingling, eager nexus where she was nudging her hips to meet him.

Swollen and tingling, her lips nonetheless widened into a smile as she felt him pressing his neck and his cheek against her mouth, demanding her kisses, caresses and attention even as his hands grazed over her breasts, the edge of his thumb teasing over her cotton covered nipple.

Aurora clenched her jaw, biting down on a whining sigh as he thrust his hip with celebrated skill and nudged all the right places, sending a spidery web of tingling electricity deep down and along the inside of her thighs. Her toes curled appreciatively as she hooked her leg over the back of his, squeezing them both together to a duet of moaning.

“That’s it, let me hear you, baby,” he whispered in a direct line from her ear down to her aching, tingly core. She tried to wrap her arms around his shoulders, to pull him closer to cover the shivery coolness of her exposed decolletage, but he held fast to her arm, pinning the other down beneath his side.

Aurora’s brain was too foggy with pleasure and yearning to be embarrassed or self-conscious about the noises she was making, or was trying to make, since he kept forcing her lips to perform supplication and worship different parts of him. Her whines were muffled by the soft, fullness of his bottom lip as he tasted and teased her, then the salty, slightly metallic tang of the broad pad of his thumb as he pushed it against the flat of her tongue, and his body, heavy and hot, thrusting against every willing, needy inch of her.

Like an opera singer sliding up the scale, the way her body answered his nudging and rubbing began to heighten. A thousand icy vibrations resonated through her, building and building until all her nerves sang in the same, piercing crescendo, threatening to shatter her as she tensed, squeezed, curled into herself and then broke apart.

With a weary but satisfied sigh, he sank back onto his side, leaving her shivering and exposed despite the fact that she was still fully clothed. Listening to her own slightly labored breaths, she was finally able to lift up her arm from the pillow and she tugged at her rumpled, damp clothes, trying to make herself more comfortable and presentable.

Rolling onto her side, she let herself bathe in the warm, affectionate glow of his eyes as he smiled at her, reaching up to smooth her hair. She leant down and kissed him chastely on the lips, still delighted at the way he pushed back, eagerly taking what she was giving.

“Can I? Could I… Do you need me to-” Unable to bring herself to say it, she let her hand slide down his chest, over the curve of his stomach, past the hem of his jacket, where he hastily caught it and tugged it back up.

“Whoa, let’s hold fire on that, Tiger,” he said, lifting her fingers to his lips. “I wanna take my time with you.” She tried to hide her uncertainty as she smiled and nodded in response. “I- I tell you what we’ll do. How about you go put on that dress you wanna show me and we’ll get some food sent up. You want to watch a movie? You know who Peter Sellers is, honey?”

Floating on a cloud while still immersed in mists of uncertainty, Aurora took her bag into Elvis’ adjoining bathroom and marveled at the gold fixtures and the shine of everything. It took a lot of money to make everything look so effortlessly shiny.

When she caught sight of her hair reflected in the long mirror framed in lights, she gasped and brushed it vigorously. She considered rooting around in the cabinets for a hair dryer, but got distracted by all the products on the counter. It was as if a drug store had exploded; every minor ailment from indigestion to dry eyes to, oddly, nappy rash could have been cured with items on the counter.

There were quite a few amber pill bottles too, she noticed, though she didn’t recognise any of the long names nor know how to pronounce them. She could read, however, that some of the patient names were not Elvis. It struck her as odd that so many different people would keep their medicine in Elvis’ bathroom, but her brain stretched to understand it by wondering if maybe all these people worked at the mansion and needed it be kept somewhere safe while they were working.

When she finally emerged, now clad in a floaty, pale pink peasant dress with a bardot neckline that showed off her tanned shoulders and back, Billy was back and accompanied by a woman with dark hair parted in winged curtains, apparently his wife Jo.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Elvis nodded as Aurora stood awkwardly in front of the bed. “Turn around, honey, let us get a good look at you.”

“It’s the same at the back as it is in front,” she replied tightly.

Goosebumps were breaking out across her shoulders, both because of the icy air conditioning and the discomfort of being stared at by so many people. For some reason, having a woman sitting there looking at her, sizing her up, made her enthusiasm circle the drain.

“No, really, give us a twirl, baby,” Elvis instructed with a tone that did not encourage refusal.

Billy grinned and looked to his wife like he was trying to lessen some of the pressure, but Jo continued to watch her. Women were not fooled by hair and make-up tricks and they saw through the illusion of a good dress bought on sale. Jo likely knew exactly how much of an impostor Aurora was, and her knowing made it impossible to continue the charade. Aurora turned in place with all the grace and enthusiasm of a zombie, helplessly watching Elvis’ eyes narrow with annoyance.

He didn’t even look her way as she perched on the other side of the bed to the rest of them, instead talking to Billy about the pizza they had apparently ordered while she was in the bathroom. Elvis was complaining that he was hungry and it had better not take too long or he was going to take away someone’s new car. BIlly suggested they start the movie to help take their minds off being hungry while they waited.

It was while Aurora was watching Billy set up the betamax that she had a moment of clarity that it did not matter whether she was good enough to be there, the fact was that she had evidently tricked someone into thinking she was and that might not happen again, so she had to make the most of it. Besides, she thought back to the taste of him in her mouth, his touch on her skin and realized that acting like a sulky teenager was not going to get that back. She knew that she wanted, no, needed to get that back.

Leaning on the little information she had picked up about what Elvis liked, Aurora shuffled across the bed to where he was half-reclined against his pillows and tried to kiss him in apology. She timed it badly because he was taking a swig of water when she hurriedly smushed her lips into his cheek and he instinctively turned towards her, the water pouring onto him instead.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” She clasped her hands over her mouth, mentally preparing herself to be frogmarched to her car and escorted to the gate.

There was a pause, the other two people in the room seemed to go very quiet and even the sound of the television was muted, but eventually Elvis forced a weak chuckle and made a comment about being given a warning next time she wanted to start a water fight. He placed his glass down with a decisive bang on the nightstand and went into his bathroom to get changed.

Aurora cringed and shrugged sheepishly at Billy and Jo, already mentally editing all of this out of the story she would tell everyone of her one and only date with Elvis Presley.

The arrival of the pizza coincided with Elvis’ reappearance, now clad in navy blue pajamas and a gray robe, both of which were monogrammed in white. There was a beat when she reflected on how he had just made her dress up for him while he had decidedly dressed down for her and she wondered if this was a signal on how the date was going.

Thankfully, his mood picked up considerably as he ate his food and spoke along with most of the dialogue of the movie. He and Billy joined together in unison on their favorite lines and sometimes even Jo joined in. She tried not to feel too left out, smiling appreciatively whenever Elvis slipped her a sideways glance, his eyebrow slightly raised, like he was trying to be sneaky.

The appreciation dimmed when Elvis ordered the movie be started over from the beginning again once it was done. Aurora scanned the room for signs of a clock and cursed her poor decision making for removing her watch. Instead, she had to exaggeratedly stretch and fake a yawn.

“Gee, it must be getting pretty late,” she remarked. “I guess I should be going soon.”

If it had been a movie there would have been a loud record scratch, but she didn’t need a sound effect to know that she had messed up yet again. After a minute or two of loud silence, Elvis asked if he could speak to her in the bathroom and he retreated to find more privacy than he could get in his own bedroom.

At his request, Aurora closed the door behind her and watched him glare at himself in the mirror, before smoothing his hand down the lapel of his robe and turning to face her.

“How was your food?” he asked, glancing away again, this time out the window.

“It was good.” It had been a little greasy, but the view more than made up for it.

“Good… good.” He inhaled deeply and also quickly. “Well, you’re right, it’s getting real late and the streets can be dangerous, especially for a sweet little girl like you. I- I don’t like the thought of you driving around, sweetheart, you never know who could be traveling those roads at night, all kinds of weirdos and sick motherfuckers. I think you should stay here.”

“And how’d you like the movie?”

“It was great, really funny.” Especially the first time round, what little of the dialogue she could hear. Again, she couldn’t fault the view and the company.

“Stay?” The word yes surged into her brain, whizzing around her body like a pinball before finally emerging through her mouth as something completely different. “I don’t know.”

It was the old song and dance, sounding like the good girl she was supposed to be while acting like the girl she really was. She had to argue that she didn’t have anything to wear to bed or toiletries. He countered this by promising to find her everything she needed. She considered that her mother might worry if she didn't show up after her date, and Elvis volleyed this back by saying that she was welcome to call Mama to let her know what was happening. He even offered to speak to her mother himself. She finished the back and forth by reminding Elvis that she was a good girl that didn’t do this sort of thing normally, but she would make a reluctant exception.

And with that they went back to watch the rest of the movie, Aurora now nestled up against his chest, listening to the forceful thump of his heart caged up beneath. His voice rumbled through his body and into her ear, a steady stream of movie quotes, innuendo and cheeky, foul-mouthed asides about the film.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye later, she was sitting upright in bed with the bed covers draped across her legs. Elvis had already pulled the blankets back twice, a boyish little grin on his face as he peeked at her long, tanned legs. The silky pajama jacket he had tossed to her after she had brushed her teeth using a brand new toothbrush from the seemingly endless stock in his bathroom cabinet barely covered anything, the sleeves hanging limping from her hands while the hem brushed her ass.

Steve had brought Elvis a package about twenty minutes before, an awkward reunion, and Aurora had watched Elvis carefully take the pills that were contained within. He smiled at her, and for the first time, she spotted the charade, recognising a script. He explained that he took lots of vitamins and health supplements to keep him fit and healthy for all the touring he had to do and that accounted for most of the pills, but he also took a little sleeping medication because he found it difficult to get to sleep. Aurora had nodded, but it was not an Oscar worthy performance.

The medicine kicked in with a surprisingly sudden punch not long later when he was reading aloud from one of his books and pausing to check she understood and to clarify words. Both his breathing and his voice abruptly deepened as well as slowing down. She frowned as she watched his usually animated and expressive face fall slack and blank

“Elvis?” He took a long time to register her voice, even longer to respond, his slow smile following on after. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” he managed. Adorably, he pursed his lips and she realized that he was waiting for her to kiss him. She dipped down and pushed her lips against his, and she missed the way he pushed forward to meet her. He was too groggy for that. Instead, he mumbled:

“... Been looking for you for so long…” She didn’t know if he meant in the past two weeks or more generally. It was sweet either way.

With her mama far away and Elvis’ soft, pouting face restful and beautiful right next to her, Aurora sank down and lay her head against his chest, pretending that maybe, just maybe, she might be different. She might be special.

As his thick lashes dropped down onto his lower lids and he released a big sigh of an exhale, Aurora thought of her mama’s words:

“... Memphis is chock full of girls that Elvis used to call at 3AM.”

I really appreciate everyone who reads, likes, reblogs and comments. If you wish to be added to a tag list, or removed, let me know.

Tag List

@ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @missmaywemeetagain, @peskybedtime, @from-memphis-with-love @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782, @wildhorseinkansas, @atleastpleasetelephone

#elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #big daddy elvis #70s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fanfiction #whositmcwhatsit

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holllandtrash · 1 year ago

Note

omg i need a full blurb of dts content lol (i sent the original ask btw)

also i’m not sure if ur still gonna continue the lover series but i can totally see this as part of afterglow! like the whole “put you in jail for something you didn’t do” thing with lando getting mad at little leclerc over carlos but she didn’t technically do anything and lando realizing he blew things out of proportion and that it’s all in his head

HONESTLY I was half done the afterglow chapter and it was about this like carlos and y/n but not DTS related so I think I might try to fix it up and include DTS because like..it’s almost too perfect?

anyway so here's a snippet of the original afterglow chapter that will be rewritten bc of this DTS idea (love u anon)

“He’s not here,” you told Carlos, still looking around because it wouldn’t be unlike Lando to jump up out of nowhere. Carlos lingered in the doorway, peeking his head into the room but he was just as confused as you were.

“Lobby?” Carlos suggested, but he didn’t recall seeing him chatting away with team members.

“Maybe?” You shrugged. “In the bar? But he wouldn’t drink the night before a race.”

Carlos nodded his head in the direction of the elevator, suggesting they might as well go take a look. The concern you felt was obvious and to try and provide a bit of comfort, Carlos dropped his arm around your shoulders and tucked you against his side as you walked.

“He probably just stepped out,” he tried to provide an answer for Lando’s sudden ghosting.

“But it’s not like him to just keep ignoring me.”

Carlos pressed the button to call the elevator, “He’ll show up and say that his phone died.”

“Or that he left it in the paddock somewhere,” you snorted, remembering the few times Lando did in fact leave his phone in the garage or motorhome. He was forgetful, you knew that, but something seemed off this time. “I just hope he’s okay.”

And speak of the devil.

The elevator doors opened and Lando stood on the other side of them. With your hand outstretched towards him you were able to take a breath of relief, but if anything you had more questions than answers as his phone was visibly gripped between his fingers.

“Where were you?” You asked, sounding more worried than annoyed.

Lando eyed Carlos’ arm around you and maybe it was the slight twitch of his eyebrows or the way his jaw tensed as he stepped out of the elevator, but Carlos got the hint and dropped his arm back to his side. He even put some space between your bodies, knowing Lando wasn’t the biggest fan of your friendship.

Instead of answering you though, Lando stayed silent and walked right on by, muttering something under his breath about how he was even shocked you noticed he was gone.

“Hey,” you snapped, not about to deal with his attitude. Lando stopped walking and just by the movement of his shoulders you could tell he was taking a breath to calm himself down. You knew his mannerisms, you knew something was bothering him.

He turned around, his gaze going straight to Carlos first before he turned his attention to you, “I was talking to my team and then I went and got a new room.”

That didn’t account for the handful of calls he purposely ignored, but you decided not to pick that battle. “What do you mean a new room? What’s wrong with the one we have?”

“I need one for myself tonight,” Lando stated, monotone and distant. This wasn’t the Lando you knew.

“Why do you need your own room?”

He shrugged. Shrugged. “Not feeling too well. Would rather just get a good sleep by myself.”

You stepped forward while Carlos cautiously stayed off to the side. Still though, you noticed the way Lando kept eyeing the older driver.

“Lando-”

“I’m going to bed,” he cut you off promptly. “I’ve just got to grab a few things from your room first.”

Your room, he said. Not ours.

This was new territory, uncharted waters. It felt as though you were five words away from this conversation turning into a fight, and you don’t even know what the catalyst was.

The last thing you wanted was to argue in the hallway of a hotel, so you decided not to push, worried that the more you said or the more questions you asked would only lead to exactly what you didn’t want.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess,” was the only thing you could offer. You expected Lando to at least nod or agree. You wanted him to tell you he just had to sleep off whatever it was he was feeling.

You didn’t expect the next words out of his mouth, that’s for sure.

“I think you should probably stay in the Ferrari garage tomorrow.”

He was joking. He had to be joking, right? You laughed in response because what else could you do? You couldn't rely on your typical eye roll to get through to him so you joked in response, “Okay what is going on? Are you breaking up with me?”

Even Carlos snickered at that, knowing there was no serious intent behind the question.

But Lando didn’t say anything. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t look away, he just stared at you, lips pressed into a thin line like he was fighting with himself, like he knew what to say but didn’t know if the words would destroy you if they were spoken aloud.

Regardless, the silence was loud enough.

You were only a few feet apart but as you stood in the hallway you felt as though you were miles away from Lando, miles away from the person you loved. The funny thing about it was, your mind was still registering all of this as a joke so there was no pain in your chest. Your heart didn’t sink to the pit of your stomach. Your world wasn’t crumbling to the ground beneath your feet.

You just felt distant, so far removed from this conversation that it didn’t seem real.

It couldn’t be real.

Carlos stepped forward, hand going to your back for support but you didn’t need it. You just needed to figure out if this was truly what Lando wanted and if it was, the next question was why.

Lando offered no explanation. To make things worse, he started to back up and head to the room. His steps were slow, maybe waiting for you to turn around first but you couldn’t. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t process any of this, you were frozen in time and place right there in this fucking hallway.

So Lando turned around, not even giving you the courtesy of a last look before he unlocked the hotel room and stepped inside. The door swinging back on its hinges echoed through the hallway but it wasn’t as deafening as the desperate breath passing through your lips. The shaky inhale as it slowly started to sink in. You weren’t hurt, you weren’t broken, you were numb.

Carlos was saying something but none of it was getting through to you. You shook his hand off of you when you realised Lando wasn’t coming back out and you muttered a single name before heading to the elevator, your mind on autopilot.

“Charles.”

Your older brother was expecting a quiet night before the race. He put on a movie, he wanted to relax, probably go to bed early and be well rested for tomorrow.

But when his phone chimed and he read the message from Carlos that said, Lando broke up with y/n, he had about twelve seconds to figure out if it was a joke or not because there was a knock on the door shortly after.

He pulled it open and without even saying a word, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Charles. The tears started to fall in the elevator, but it wasn’t until Charles hugged you back, muttering something in French about how he was going to end Lando’s life, did it actually sink in.

Lando broke up with you.

Charles could have said a lot of things. He could have said I told you so. He could have reminded you that dating a driver was the stupidest decision you made. He could have turned you away, not wanting to be the first person you came crying to because he was the last person who approved of your relationship anyway.

But he kept those thoughts to himself and he held you tightly.

#6 to 1 series #6 to 1

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broodybuck · 8 months ago

Text

Title: The Praise Doctor

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, sex worker Steve, handjobs, top Steve, bottom Bucky, praise kink, first date

[ao3 link]

"Is this how you like it?" Steve asks.

His hand, a loose fist around Bucky, slides up so lightly it's more like a dangerous tease.

Bucky's skin tingles more from the soft tone of the man's voice than his hand although the combination undeniably has an effect on him. Bucky nods.

"You're perfect like this," Steve croons. "You look perfect, all cradled in my lap, naked, writhing. Wanting and needy. Oh Buck, you look just perfect."

Bucky fully shivers at this praise. It is what he paid for after all. Steve Rogers is known as the Praise Doctor in hushed circles. Bucky heard about him at a nightclub. He had gotten the guy's number and called the very next day.

This is exactly what Bucky fantasizes about. To be pleasured and praised endlessly at the same time. It's honestly too good to be true especially when the man himself, Steve Rogers, is as large and beautiful as men come.

"You're completely flushed, baby," Steve coos. "That color looks so good on you."

Steve slides his free palm flatly down Bucky's chest, his hand around Bucky's cock slides back down to the base with a slight squeeze.

"How do you look so good like this? Tell me, sweetheart."

Bucky murmurs out a moan. It's so good, every word Steve says to him is perfect. How does this guy do it so right?

Every session, which has been exactly three so far, has been better than the last and it's becoming a problem. Lately, if Bucky tries to date or even just have meaningless sex, it does nothing for him. No one talks to him enough, touches him enough. No one makes his brain melt the way Steve can. This service is ruining him.

Right now, when he's curled in Steve's lap getting a handjob while being utterly adored, Bucky has no capacity to think about how ruined he is. He can only delve deeper into the blurry pleasure and let it wash over him in waves until he comes in the man's hand — which he undoubtedly will any second now.

All week, Bucky tries not to think about Steve. He tries to flirt with guys at bars, he takes the phone numbers of men his friends want to set him up with. But every Thursday, he's giddy as he walks up the steps to a Brooklyn brownstone and knocks on the door.

Steve lets him in. It's their fourth session tonight. Bucky can feel his stomach turning over and over again, his chest fluttering, his whole body not letting him rest.

"Hey," Steve smiles, closing the door behind Bucky. "I like that shirt on you."

"Oh, yeah?" Bucky stammers, looking down to check what he's wearing.

It's an old Brooklyn tee. It fits a bit snug after so many cycles in the dryer but the fabric is light gray, basic cotton. He hadn't put much thought into what he would wear on these nights since he knew the clothes would be coming off. Maybe he should've thought about it more. Suddenly self-conscious, Bucky shifts uncomfortably in place.

"Yeah," Steve answers. "But you know I'd like it much better, off."

Bucky breathes a little easier. Since he's overthinking his clothes so much, he'd much rather be naked right now. He tugs the collar of his shirt up and over his head, happy to be free of it. He considers for a moment what he'll wear next time. Then the thought leaves his brain when Steve quickly closes the space between them.

"Mhm, much better," Steve hums, his gaze trailing down Bucky's chest. A fingertip circles one of Bucky's nipples tantalizingly slow.

When he applies pressure over the nub, Bucky squeaks out an embarrassing sound. He's always making noises he hasn't heard himself make. Only Steve gets them out of him. Only Steve. It's seriously a problem. He shouldn't be this attached to a sex worker, a man he's paying to please him.

Steve drops to his knees and carefully works open Bucky's jeans. Bucky steps out of his pants and shoes as Steve rolls them down his legs.

Steve's eyes focus on the hard line in Bucky's boxer briefs. Steve sighs blissfully like he's happy to see Bucky erect. He's still on his knees.

"Do you know how beautiful you are under here?" Steve asks quietly, his palm grazing Bucky's erection.

Bucky's eyes slip shut, his head tilts back automatically as he feels Steve push his underwear down and hot air breathe over his cock.

Steve nudges his ankles, directing him to step out of the undergarment. Bucky opens his eyes, following the instruction, realizing he's already lost himself so quickly.

Steve stands with a smile and frames Bucky's face.

"Would you like to come for me, tonight?"

Bucky nods then blinks hard and remembers he's supposed to answer verbally.

"Yes."

"I love to see you let go for me, Buck. It's breathtaking, honest, watching it all spill out of you. Watching that good release run through you."

Bucky bites his bottom lip, feeling his skin heat to an unfair temperature. His knees wobble enough that he sways forward. Steve notices and grips Bucky's arms to steady him.

"Let's get you to the bed, sweetheart."

This session is not long. In fact, tonight Bucky comes embarrassingly fast. He's not sure what it is. You'd think he'd be used to it, being this is the fourth time he's seeing Steve.

But he can't get used to it. Steve finds something new to say every time. He praises a different part of Bucky, makes a big deal out of the way Bucky does anything, even things he can't help. It makes Bucky so hot, he doesn't feel in control of his body. And tonight, he certainly wasn't.

Usually, their sessions last a good forty-five minutes and then with cleanup and redressing, it might round out to an hour. This time, Bucky's panting from his orgasm when he checks the time. It's been thirteen minutes. Jesus, that's humiliating.

He can feels the hot blush on his face as he avoids Steve's gaze.

"Sorry, um..." Bucky starts.

"No need to apologize. It's a good thing, baby. I'm flattered I could get you there so fast, tonight," Steve whispers.

And sure, his words still tingle on Bucky's skin but it doesn't make him feel all that better about what happened.

Bucky tries to sit up. He's always in Steve's lap. It's something that just sort of happened the first time and Bucky loved it too much to give it up since then.

Steve sits back on the bed giving him room to move but Bucky doesn't make it very far when Steve says, "We still have the rest of the hour."

Bucky freezes, finally daring to look at him again.

"Of course, it's up to you. But I'm betting I could get a second round of you," Steve smirks. Obviously, Bucky's not going anywhere now.

"Oh... yeah, okay," Bucky stammers.

"Or..." Steve says. This time he looks away which is unusual. He looks worried when he says, "I could ask you something I shouldn't."

Bucky's heart leaps in his chest. He has no idea what Steve's about to ask him and yet, somehow he knows he wants him to.

"This is so out of line and unprofessional," Steve goes on. Bucky considers for a moment whether he should still be in Steve's lap for this but he's unable to move at this point. "But I'd really like to take you to dinner."

Bucky's eyes betray him and widen enormously. Steve smiles shyly.

"There's no pressure, obviously. I know you hired me and this wouldn't have anything to do with that. I'm asking you for a... date," Steve clarifies. "If you're interested."

"Yes," Bucky says without taking another second to think. He can barely breathe he's so in. "Tonight?"

"Well, we have the time and it's only 7:15. So, yes, if you're hungry."

"I don't have anything else to wear," Bucky says, peering over to his pile of casual clothes on the ground. He really regrets the outfit now.

"I can lend you something if that's not weird."

"Okay."

Steve smiles honestly now and then carefully lifts Bucky off his lap and sets him on the mattress before venturing to his closet. He comes back with a nice sweater and dress pants.

"These should fit. Let me change too," Steve says handing him the clothes.

Bucky gets off the bed to grab his underwear and then dresses in Steve's clothes.

He feels a wave of nerves wash over him when Steve reappears in a nicer outfit and looks Bucky over.

"I like that sweater on you," Steve remarks.

"Steve," Bucky warns, his face turning warm instantly.

"Hm?" he smiles innocently.

"I thought we were going to dinner."

"We are, can't I compliment how you look?"

"You know why you can't," Bucky argues, his voice strained.

"Alright, I'll save that for later," Steve smirks and holds out his hand.

Bucky takes it and they walk together to Steve's car.

Dinner is at a very nice restaurant downtown. Bucky's overwhelmed with how he's feeling. He's still shocked he's here and at the same time, the thought of getting to date the man who's able to make him feel like no one else... well, that would solve a whole lot of problems. He hasn't stopped thinking about Steve for a month now. So, yeah he's excited to be here.

"So, have you taken others out like this?" Bucky asks cautiously.

"No, you're the first," Steve says. "This is completely separate from my services. I made that clear, right?"

"Yeah, you did. I guess I'm just wondering... why me?"

"You're my type," Steve admits. "I've been holding back since our first meeting, trying to keep things professional. Then... I don't know, I figured what the hell, why not try?"

Bucky nods trying not to keen too hard at his words.

"You're um, my type too," Bucky replies after an extended beat.

"I am?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm sure you're a lot of people's type. You're like gorgeous."

"And here I thought I was the Prasie Doctor," Steve says low enough that no one else should hear but it still makes Bucky's face flush.

"Have other people tried?" Bucky asks to distract from it.

"Tried what?"

"To ask you out or something?"

"No, actually. Everyone has been very professional," Steve reveals.

"Huh," Bucky remarks surprised.

"Are you comfortable being here?" Steve asks. "On a date with me?"

"Yeah. I'm nervous, but comfortable," Bucky answers honestly.

"Well, there's no need to be nervous, Buck. You already know how fond I am of you — with all of you."

Bucky blushes hard and tries to hide the way he bites his lip when he looks away. Steve laughs lightheartedly.

"Sorry, just a habit."

Bucky knows he should flirt back. He swears with anyone else, he would have.

"That's okay," Bucky says. "I don't know why I'm so nervous with you. I shouldn't be given..."

"It's completely understandable. We've shared an experience most haven't. It's a unique situation that we're now trying to adjust away from."

"Yeah. You seem smart," Bucky comments.

"Thank you," Steve says. "I'd love to learn more about you, Buck."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Anything. Start from the beginning," Steve smiles.

That calms Bucky and he starts telling his life story. He talks a little too long and by the end of the dinner, he realizes how much he's been talking. Then he notices Steve's been listening to every word without a single interruption.

"Sorry, I've been talking forever. I should be asking about you," Bucky apologizes.

"No, I'm really enjoying this," Steve says. "Besides, I figured I can tell you more about myself tonight."

"Tonight?"

"When we get back to my place. I may be getting ahead of myself, but based on our history I figured more would happen tonight. And as much as I've loved seeing you, I really want to show you all of me."

Bucky gulps. He's not sure if he's nervous or just turned on now, probably both. He really wants to see Steve, all of Steve, oh god just the thought is getting him hot and bothered.

Bucky merely nods and is grateful when the check is dropped off.

Being back in Steve's bedroom is a whole new experience tonight. He's not cradled in Steve's lap, he's not the only one naked and he's not simply getting a handjob while Steve praises him every second.

No, they're kissing tonight. Passionately, fully on the mouth, tongue and all. Steve's a good kisser and good with his hands. He's undressing both of them, Bucky likes how he's taking the lead, he could've guessed he would.

Steve's kissing down Bucky's neck by the time Bucky realizes they're both naked and he barely gets a chance to look at Steve before he's being laid down on the bed. Bucky opens his eyes and tries to take it all in. A nude Steve over him, rubbing against him. His eyes fall closed from the sensation, from the arousal building too high, too quickly.

Steve kisses him again.

"Do you want to..." he asks breathlessly.

"Yeah," Bucky answers readily and opens his legs on instinct. He's almost embarrassed about it especially when Steve notices with a pause. But thankfully, Steve doesn't let any shame linger.

"Oh honey, you're so good for me. You know that? Look at you, spreading your legs for me. You want me inside you, doll?"

Bucky shivers, a full-body one. How is he going to handle this man's constant praise with his cock inside him? He's never wanted something so badly in his life.

"Please, Steve. Yes," Bucky whimpers and watches Steve fetch lube and a condom out of the nightstand drawer.

He begins opening Bucky up, one finger at a time.

"Keep talking to me," Bucky pleads in a whisper.

He thinks, maybe he's not supposed to ask that of Steve anymore. He's not at an appointment with the Praise Doctor anymore, he's on a date with Steve. Thankfully, Steve quickly quiets his worries.

"Sorry honey, was just admiring how good you feel. Haven't gotten to feel you like this before — I got a little lost," Steve says.

He smiles shyly, a blush coats his cheeks. Bucky can't believe Steve is embarrassed for once. God, that's a new level of hot. Bucky squirms from it and Steve presses a hand on his chest while fitting another finger inside him.

When he's ready, Steve coats his cock with more lube and then stares intently into Bucky's eyes.

"You have no idea how long I've been imagining this," Steve tells him, pushing the head of his cock against the rim. Bucky whimpers. He can't even talk, he just wants it — needs it.

"Can't believe you haven't felt how hard I was. I was trying to hide it, but god, I didn't think I was doing a good job," Steve half laughs.

Bucky tries to think back but his mind is too fuzzy. He mainly remembers every praise, every touch of the man's hands. Maybe he was only thinking of himself, he's not sure, but he can't remember feeling Steve under him.

"I was so hard, every damn time," Steve shares. "Getting to make you come has been the highlight of my week. But this, baby, this is going to surpass all of that. I need to be inside you, need to feel you around me."

"God, yes. Fuck me, Steve. Please, god, fuck me," Bucky blurts out.

Steve pushes inside, faster than Bucky anticipates, but it's only a moment of pain before his body settles around the thickness filling him. He breathes out as Steve kisses him hard on the mouth. He kisses him back and then Steve starts fucking him.

"You're all I've been thinking about," Bucky says.

Steve looks right at him, still fucking him while listening to every word.

"You were ruining me with a handjob. God, but no one could make me feel as good as you, I swear," Bucky whines.

"Fuck, Bucky. Shit," Steve curses and fucks him harder like he can't help himself.

Bucky moans out, gripping Steve tighter, arching up into the increasing thrusts.

"Want you to come in me," Bucky stutters by Steve's ear and the man's pace falters again.

"Shit, Buck. Thought I was supposed to be good with words. Since when do you got a mouth like this?"

He crushes their mouths together before Bucky can answer. It's so hot, so perfect, and Steve picks back up the pace. Fucking him like he's on a mission like he's putting all his strength into it.

Bucky moans, way too close, even when he's already come tonight, earlier with the fastest handjob he's ever came from.

"Steve— shit, sorry."

"Don't you ever apologize for needing to come, Buck," Steve snaps by his ear but it's not angry, it's just demanding and hot. "Don't you ever apologize for showing me how good I make you feel. Fuck, you're amazing. You're perfect."

And it dawns on Bucky then that maybe all of Steve's praise wasn't just part of the job. Maybe all the new things he was always thinking to say was because Steve was finding them for the first time, he was falling for Bucky all this time.

With that revelation, Bucky comes hard and loud. Steve kisses him, keeps fucking him through it, and then it's not long until he's following suit. He stills inside him, his cock throbs with each eruption of come that fills Bucky up.

This feels so right, how it should. This is what was missing all those other times. They both needed to finish, Bucky needed Steve inside him to feel truly satisfied.

And the best part of this all, he doesn't have to wait a week to see Steve again.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky smut #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #oneshot #tumblr fic

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lachencha · 11 days ago

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Cheering Her Up: Mouthwashing Anya x Reader

Hi everyone! Thanks for all those likes on my other post! Makes me happy to see that some of you guys liked it! :)

Construction criticism is appreciated!

Again, no warning on this one, and if you think I should add one, I definitely will! Thank you everyone!

This was also posted on ao3

The door slams shut, and the picture frames on the wall tremble. You slightly jump and press a hand to your chest, feeling your heart race. Jesus. You don't say a word as your girlfriend brushes past you, tossing her keys onto the table with a frustrated sigh. "I really need to be alone right now," she mumbles, dragging herself to your bedroom.

"Oh Anya..." You whisper to yourself, she's been trying. You glance down at the numerous nursing books on the coffee table, really trying. She's taken the nursing entrance exam three times, and each time she comes back home more defeated than the last. You bought her some books to help her study, helped quiz her when she asked you to, and you could've sworn that she would have passed this time. You pick up one of her anatomy books, several pages bookmarked with sticky notes, with one sticky note on the cover that you've placed yourself. You've got this! :)

You had placed it when you first bought it, and she's never taken it off, even taping it down so it wouldn't peel off. You smile softly, knowing that, despite everything, she carries that little reminder with her. Even if she didn't get the results she was hoping for, you'd always believe in her.

But you wouldn't let your girlfriend stay cooped up in your room forever, she might have failed this time, but she can always try again. You grab your keys and head out, if there's something that always made her feel better, it was always some food from her favorite place. She had taken you there when you were friends, and you remember how embarrassed she was admitting that she was lowkey a foodie. You honestly would've never guessed considering how empty her fridge was whenever you came over.

You pull into the parking lot, and walk in, it's not as busy as it usually is, so you quickly order Anya's favorite meal and some sides. You sit down by a nearby table and scroll through your phone.

But a conversation at the next table catches your attention.

"I heard that they give out cheap nursing classes, and pay pretty good too. I think you just need to stay with the company for two years or so."

You glance over at the table next to you, interested.

"My sister-in-law actually got her job at the hospital that way, she just did a few shipments, came back, and they paid for her nursing school. They have like some scholarship program or something."

Curious, you stand and walk over to the table, gently cutting in, "Sorry to interrupt...but what company is that?"

"The Pony Express," one of the women replies,"they do shipments in space."

Your mind whirls for a moment, and you hear your order being called out at the counter. You smile at the two women, nodding in thanks as you grab the bag of food. "Thanks so much," you say quickly, feeling a rush of relief that Anya will soon have a little something to help her feel better.

The two women exchange a confused look.

As you enter your apartment, you realize Anya never left your room. You quietly make your way down to your room,pushing the door open gently. Anya turns to face you, "Babe?" Her voice sounds hoarse.

You smile softly and hold up the takeout bag. She shakes her head, her lips curling into a tired smile, " You shouldn't have bothered."

You set the bag on the nightstand, "Well I bothered anyway."

She sighs, looking up at you with guilt in her eyes, "Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you." You kneel down, softly tucking a stand of hair behind her ear, and kiss her hair, "Don't say that, you will pass the exam, I believe in you."

She leans into your touch, "Maybe I should just give up," she whispers, "I don't think I can afford to take it again, and I don't want to drain our savings."

"You don't have to, I'll work overtime at the plant, and...I can help you study more. And if you need more books, I'll get them." You softly caress her face, "Don't give up so easily, Anya. I'll always believe in you."

Her eyes shimmer and she shakily sighs, her lip quivering as she buries her face into your shoulder. "I love you," she muffles.

You run your fingers through her hair, "Let's eat before the food gets cold, and maybe we can put on some Undercover Boss or something." She nods against your shoulder, a small laugh escaping her.

You give her one last kiss before taking the bag to the kitchen, setting it down on the counter and putting on some shitty reality show on the TV.

You make a mental note to research The Pony Express later, because now, you just want to enjoy this moment with your girlfriend.

#mouthwashing anya x reader #anya mouthwashing #mouthwashing #anya x reader

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srorgana1 · 8 months ago

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Angel Eyes

Rock Star Kylo Ren x Reader/Knights of Ren

TW: Rough Sex, Spanking, Dirty Talk, "cheating", Roleplay

A spicy one shot from the Into the Reverb Universe in which Kylo and Y/N change it up on a special day.

I hope you all enjoy ❤️

A huge thanks to my beautiful friend and Beta @mrs-zimmerman ❤️ i love you girlfriend

Kylo grunts as he moves the sander across the wood, careful not to overwork the edges and sides he had just finished. He squints, looking for imperfections in the wood as the afternoon sunshine pours in through the floor to ceiling windows. He stands and stretches his back, giving his aching muscles a reprieve from being hunched over for so long.

He lets out a groan as he raises his arms above his head, further relieving the pressure. They flex and loosen up below his thin company t-shirt. He personally relishes in the burn of a hard day's work, knowing that he will then be rewarded with more pronounced muscles that are quite pleasing to the eye.

Maybe she will like them, he thinks as he fixes his safety glasses. They have been in each other's orbit since the start of the project, a full kitchen reno. He and his company are the top in LA and he is well compensated for his talent and skill as a craftsman. He didn't expect anything different when he came to the in-home consultation, but he was so very wrong when they were disturbed by the most beautiful woman he has ever seen strolling in in nothing but a very sensual sports bra and yoga pants set.

He remembers having to keep his jealousy in check when this perfect female specimen strolled over and kissed that arrogant asshole who he had been talking to for the last hour. But then she looked at him and he knew instantly she wanted him. He could see it in her eyes, how they darkened as they skipped along his muscles and tattoos.

It's been almost two months since then and they are still playing this game. He still catches her at times looking at him, lust clouding her gaze. He chuckles lowly as he turns the sander off. He knows she likes what she sees, that's for sure.

She wants him, he knows it but he has to play this right. He has to let that sweet piece of ass come to him. He can be patient. It’ll be ten times sweeter when she does, desperate for what he can give her. When she does, oh when she does he will defile her so bad and fuck her so hard and deep she will feel him a month from now. Honestly he wouldn’t even care or stop if her husband showed up. He would smile like a madman and go harder just to show him who the real man is around here.

Fuck he's hard now and hot. How did it get so fucking hot in here? He can feel the sweat dripping off him, some of it fogging up his safety glasses. He stands and wipes his face with his shirt. It's soaked through. Damn, must have been working much harder than he thought, totally distracted by his dirty fantasy.

He makes an impulsive decision and removes it, sighing in relief as the air hits his bare skin. He removes his safety glasses and puts them up on his head for safe keeping as he goes to find a towel in the guest bathroom he has been allowed to use. He steps back out when he catches the sound of the front door closing and the sound of small steps heading towards him.

He holds back a groan as her perfume begins to float in the air, an alluring mix of floral, patchouli and vanilla. He doesn’t know the brand nor does he care, but he does know he wants to find all those secret spots that would taste like that. He shivers at the thought as he sees her enter the large main living space.

She is distracted by her phone and bags, unaware of his company. He stares and waits for her to acknowledge him. “Oh I didn’t know you were here” her surprised voice says behind him. He can literally feel her eyes on him, appraising his bare upper body. He fights off another shiver, setting a bored and unamused expression on his face before he turns to face her.

She looks like temptation incarnate. Her curvy but trim figure is perfectly accentuated by her black sheath dress with cropped leather jacket. He wants to take a bite out of those juicy curves and make her squirm and squeal. Her hair is perfectly styled as always in a sleek ponytail, calling him to grab it tight and tug at it as he sucks bruises into her skin.

But it's her eyes, her angelic eyes are his undoing. They ensnare him in their doe like expressive nature, calling him to fall into them and never resurface. Suddenly all he wants is to see how they would look when they are all scrunched up and teary from overwhelming pleasure he and only he can give her.

Even so, he cannot show weakness. If he does, she will know she has him by the balls. He needs to show her he is in charge. He stares her down as her eyes unabashedly take him in, all heavy muscle and tattooed lines. “My truck was outside '' he says in an unamused voice, crossing his arms across his chest.

She takes a step forward, kicking off her beaded sandals and continues her unabashed appraisal of him. “Is that so? Well glad I'm getting my money's worth” she croons out, placing her bags onto the kitchen island. Her eyes never leave him as she further approaches him, shifting out of her jacket and exposing more skin.

He can see that lust swirling in her eyes once more as a mischievous smirk crosses her face. “That's quite a situation you got there Mr. Ren” she says slyly, rounding the island towards him. He knows she can see his erection trapped in his jeans and it pulses and throbs at her attention.

She slinks closer, only an arms length away. “Looks like you could use some help” she says, her eyes heavy as her perfectly manicured hand lightly grazes his thigh, so dangerously close. He tries and fails to hold back a groan, his hips shifting towards her touch.

“Careful sweetheart” he growls, his fingers itching to grab her and feel her at long last. She chuckles, her fingers now tracing his length up and down along his thigh “No I don't think I will. You see, I have needs that often are not met by my husband. Certain preferences you can say. But you Mr Ren, look like you could be a very capable and viable option.”

He meets her eyes, a vicious smile splitting his face. “Well sweetheart, if that's what you are needing, I am willing to provide that service. I am nothing but all encompassing” he says lowly, loving how her thighs squeeze together tightly at his response.

She nods, lightly gripping him through his jeans. He groans again, his hips canting lightly towards her touch. He feels like a caged tiger, just waiting for the time to strike. Just waiting for her to give the go ahead, so he can grab a handful of that pert little ass and let her feel what she does to him.

His patience with her wanes when she starts speaking again. “Hmm I love the power play. I fucking love it when a man takes whats his but also when he is putty in my hand” she says huskally, continuing to pet him with increasingly needy strokes.

He is obscenely hard and can feel his boxers becoming more and more soaked. He never in a million years would have guessed they have such similar wants and needs. He loves it when a woman brings him to his fucking knees just as much as fucking them like the whores they are. God above, he cannot wait to fucking ruin her.

She smiles and takes his hand, leading him over to the large L shaped couch. He swallows thickly as he watches her lower herself to her knees, her short black fingernails tracing his thighs muscles. She looks up at him, keeping eye contact as she slowly takes his zipper down.

He holds back a shudder as he assists her by shimmying his hips to allow his jeans to shift down as she pulls his cock out of his boxers. “Fuck I knew you would be big” she groans, her small hand exploring and giving some experimental pumps. Fucking hell.

“Fucking suck my cock, you little slut” he growls, his inked up hand gripping her hair and pulling her closer. She legit moans at his words as she starts peppering his groin and the length of his cock with teasing kisses. She works her way down to his glans, licking it lightly with her tongue.

He moans outright, overwhelmed by the feeling of her hot little mouth on him. He struggles to keep his eyes open when she turns her attention to the tip, teasing him as her hands explore his balls, thighs and ass. She hums against him, tightening her lips around him as she squeezes a handful of his ass.

“Fuck” he groans, tugging at her hair. She lets out a whine around him, her tongue now doing tight little circular movements focusing every couple turns to dip into his slit. Her hand migrates down again, lightly stroking that special spot behind his balls. He jolts, his pleasure doubling as he rocks his hips harder “so fucking good. Fuck.”

He feels her chuckle around his cock, taking a bit more of him in. He must say her technique is masterful, her mouth and hand working in tandem. She traces the underside vein with her tongue as she bobs up and down, her perfectly pink lips stretched around him. He knows he is probably too big for her to take it all. There have only been a few who have but damn it, he wants to test her limits and if nothing else hear her fucking gag.

He lets out a growl and pulls her all the way down, hitting the back of her throat. She chokes almost instantly and struggles to keep it together. He legit almost comes as he watches her blink back tears as she opens her jaw more, allowing more space for him to do whatever the fuck he wants to do to her. His hips twitch with excitement as he begins to rock into her wet willing mouth.

“Fucking take it” he growls, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “You’re such a whore, letting me fuck your face like this. That feel good sweetheart? Does my cock feel and taste better than that worthless microdick that husband of yours is packing? What would he think if he caught you like this, on your knees with my fat cock stuffed down your throat?”

She moans loudly around him, making the head of his cock to rub against the roof of her mouth. He shuts his eyes in bliss, reveling in the feeling of her. He could blissfully come like this but he needs to focus on his original goal: to have all of her in every way.

He pulls out quickly, admiring the string of spit still connecting his cock to her lips. Her eyes are wide and big as she licks her swollen lips, panting lightly. He pulls her up, turning her around quickly and bending her over the armrest. He takes no time, flipping the skirt of her dress over her hips and ripping her panties down to her ankles.

He growls at the sight of her wet pink folds and her perfect ass as he glides his hands over her curves. His hands finally able to feel that soft skin that has been haunting his dreams since taking this job. She responds beautifully, wiggling in his hold and exposing herself more to him while whining his name.

“What's that? You want this?” he teases, rubbing his cock against her wet folds. He hears her moan out a yes as he smacks her ass hard, catching her by surprise. She jolts and he legit sees her pussy clench. “Fuck” she keens, canting her hips back for more.

“Fuck is right” he growls again, smacking her ass again “gonna smack that cute little ass red and then fuck you so hard you won’t know which way is up.” He lands another, watching the physical representation of his lust bloom upon her skin. She seems to love it as well by the sounds she is making and how she grinds against him.

“He is too much of a pussy to treat you like this isn't he? He would never smack your ass raw and make you beg for his cock. Oh but I will sweetheart, I fucking will” he says, landing another hit. “Fuck yes. Please, Do it, please” she keens, her hips rocking back even more.

“Good girl” he groans, taking the opportunity to feel her now dripping cunt literally weeping for him. He gets lost in the moment, allowing her a small sliver of control. She shifts her ass up at his next rock of his hips, making the head of his cock graze very closely to her entrance. He hisses at the feeling, his lust boiling over. He feels legit feral.

He grabs her hips and thrusts in roughly. She yelps at his intrusion as he lets out a long moan. She is perfectly tight around him and he takes a quick second to relish the feeling before he starts a vicious pace. She sobs in pleasure, her hands scrumbling along the couch for something to hold onto. “Is this what you wanted?” he snarls, looming more over her. “Yes K-Kylo yes” she babbles, her breath shuddering in time with his thrusts.

Something in him snaps in him hearing her say his name. His hips quicken as he grips at her neck pulling her up closer to his chest. He can feel her clench down on him as her breath hitches between her panting moans. “God you are so fucking tight. Like a fucking vice. You like being manhandled like this, sweetheart? You like these big hands acting as a fucking necklace?” he teases, squeezing her airway just so.

She keens, her body winding up around him. She is the perfect height for this, making the angle sublime. Her cunt squeezes him deliciously making him feel slightly light headed. He leans in, rubbing his large nose along her bare shoulder and up her neck, finally allowing himself to taste her skin.

“You feel so good sweetheart. I can only imagine how good your ass will feel as well. God damn, I cannot wait to fuck your ass like this sweetheart” he snarls into her skin. She clenches around him at his filthy words and he knows she would enjoy it as much as he would.

“I knew you were a kinky slut. Ughh, cannot wait to ruin you forever. No one will be able to satisfy you like I can and you and I both know you will come crawling every time you need fucked. Now give me what I want” he says, biting into the meat of her shoulder.

She responds instantly, letting out a scream as her orgasm overtakes her. She gushes onto him, her cunt fluttering and squeezing his length. “Oh fuck yes” he groans her skin, his pace lightening up slightly to enjoy her release. The sounds were obscene, music to his ears.

But he needs more. He needs to see her face when she orgasms again and when he fills her up. He lets go of her neck, assisting her back down onto the couch. He watches her pant, her ribs and back muscles moving rapidly in and out. She looks back at him, her dark eye makeup slightly smeared and face flushed. She looks wrecked already and he’s not even close to being done with her yet.

He pulls out, causing her to gasp. He admires her cream coating himself and her puffy cunt. “Kylo please” she whines, wiggling her ass at him as she kicks off her panties. He smiles at her desperateness. Good fucking girl, give it all to me.

He swings her around and picks her into his arms and impales her on his cock. She shouts out, still sensitive from her recent release. “Don’t worry I got you” he gasps, his eyes never leaving hers as he takes a couple steps to his long forgotten work table and laying her atop his construction plans.

In this position, he can now truly appreciate her like he has dreamt about. Of them together in carnal bliss and he all flushed and wild. But this, this is so much better than he could ever come up with in his mind. Her body is alight with pleasure and it’s stunning.

Fuck he wants to see this every fucking day. He’s got to fuck her and he’s already addicted. His eyes follow her perfect form, his eyes stuck on that secret prize peeking out between her breasts. That delicate tattoo he wants to trace with his tongue and make her call out his name.

He wonders what other little surprises she has on her. Maybe another time he will explore her and map all those special spaces out and give them the attention they deserve. But this is not that time. His eyes move down to her exposed cunt, her labia stretching obscenely around him. He groans at the sight, pulling out once more to see her arousal leak out of her.

“Legs up sweetness” he says, tapping her thigh. She obeys, resting her legs on his strong shoulders. The change in position and the angle making them both groan again in pleasure. “Fuck, you are something else” he says between heaving breaths, his hips moving faster with more forceful thrusts, far deeper then before. “Fuck, fuck Kylo. Please. Fuck” she gasps, squeezing her eyes closed to keep her tears from falling.

“Look at me!” he bellows, unable to hold back now. He’s too far gone. Her beautiful eyes meet his in shock. He almost breaks character at the look she gives him, but he is too far gone. It's a primal dark thing inside him and nothing will stop him from taking what is his.

Her eyes begin to overflow with tears as he continues his assault. This is exactly what he wanted - to see her debatched under him, her eyes heavy-lidded and tears of pleasure running down her flawless skin. “I’ve dreamt about this sweetheart so many times. Of you crying while impaled on my cock, f-fuck” he gasps, his warning signs of his impending orgasm licking at the base of his spine.

She gasps and keens his name again, her fingertips reaching and grazing his contracting abdominal muscles. Her touch is electric, spurring his orgasm forward. He can literally feel her pleasure through it and it makes him want to give her the best orgasm of her life. He moans her name, gripping her calves and fucks her harder.

She is tightening and fluttering around him, a tell tale sign of her release. He focuses on her quickening breaths as her jaw drops open between her moans. It’s so fucking perfect. “I feel you baby, you ready sweetheart?” he groans, preparing to allow himself to go over the edge with her.

She nods once before throwing her head back as her body lets go. He cannot believe how tight she clamps down on his cock and how much she drenches him. It immediately triggers his own orgasm. He lets out a filthy roar as he pounds into her, pumping his hot cum into her. It feels never ending. His whole body tingles in pleasure as he continues to fill up her perfect cunt, moaning her name like a needy prayer.

He rides the high and slows his hips down to a gentle rock, finally allowing them both time to recover. He opens his eyes, taking in the aftermath of what they just did. She grins at him as she catches her breath, her skin flushed and shimmering with sweat. He drops a kiss onto her calf and leaning his head against the other.

“Is that what you were envisioning baby girl?” he says, his body spent. He leans against the table, his cock softening inside but doesn’t pull out yet. It’s something you both enjoy after sex, that afterglow and the closeness of being truly one. “That and so much more Ky” you say with a small laugh “thank you.” “My pleasure baby” he says, pushing the hair from your eyes.

“I didn’t hurt you too bad did I? I got a little carried away” he says, focusing on the softness of your hair. “Ky, if it was too much I would’ve used our safe word. I fucking loved every minute and I could tell you did too” she responds, grabbing his hand to kiss his tattood knuckles.

He cracks a full smile finally, overwhelmed with your love. He lets go of your legs, allowing you to move them into a much more comfortable position around his hips. “That I did, it was pretty fucking hot.” You beam at him as he reaches for your hand while the other lightly traces the lines between your breasts. “I cannot tell you how sexy you look in this” he says as he leans down and kisses your breasts.

“Thank you my love but I think your actions definitely showed me more than any words could say” you respond, running your hands through his wild dark hair. You feel his tongue trace your tattoo before leaving soft kisses up your chest, finally stopping right above your heart. “Best day ever” he whispers into your skin.

He smirks as you tug at his hair, a silent plea. He leaves one more kiss over your heart and moves to your lips. “Happy anniversary baby girl, I couldn’t have asked for anything more” he breathes before finally kissing you properly.

He groans into the kiss, loving the feeling of your soft lips against his own. It’s sweet and tender, so different from the rough fucking they just burned through. He pulls back slightly, nuzzling his nose with yours. “How about we get cleaned up and then we can move on to today's other plans?'' he asks. As if on cue, your stomach rumbles loudly at the mention of filet mignon and stuffed portabellos, making you both laugh at the ridiculousness of the timing.

“C'mon babe” he says, shifting his hands under your ass and lifting you into his arms “can’t let the wife starve”. “Damn right sir” you snark, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckles and shakes his head. How did he get so lucky to find you and make you his? He still doesn’t know but he thanks his lucky stars everyday. He carries you off to the bedroom, looking forward to an amazing dinner and a life full of amazing love.

If you enjoyed here is where you can find the original story and other one-shots from the Into The Reverb Universe:

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