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ashleyfilm · 1 month ago

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I'm Yours

Written for: @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge

Prompt: Secret Relationship

Words: 3.2K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Language, Smut, Power Dynamic, light name calling, unprotected PinV.

Summary: You and Frankie work together and you're not sure you're ready for people to know about your relationship yet.

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the dividers. :)

“Unnn, fuck, baby, I know, I know it feels so good but you gotta be quiet,” Frankie breathes into your neck while holding his hand over your mouth. “Mmmm, mmm,” you try and respond. “Baby, I know. Stop. Fuck,” Frankie groans as he fucks into you.

He has you up on the desk, your ass pulled close to the edge so he can get the right angle and fuck into you with your legs around him and both your chests heaving together. “You don’t want them to hear us, do you? Our fucking jobs will be on the line, yours more than mine, so, you gotta stay quiet,” He's pleading with you now. “Okay, okay, fuck, I’m close and I know you are, I can feel you absolutely choking my cock, goddammit. Here,” Frankie takes his hand from around your waist and brings his fingers to your clit with practiced ease, the second he touches you there, you explode, and he follows directly after. Both of you going blind with pleasure.

Moments later, Frankie slips out of you with a hiss, gathering tissues to clean you and himself up. He goes back to you, holding your face in his big tan calloused hands, kisses you deeply and says, “Baby…Jesus, you really need to control yourself if you want me to keep fucking you during business hours.” You respond, smirking at him, “Frankie, don’t bring the baby Jesus into this, he had nothing to do with it.” Frankie laughs as you fix yourself back to being presentable.

“I’m sorry, Frankie, you know what you do to me, it’s not my fault that I get loud. It’s yours,” you say trying to look innocent. Frankie puts his hands on your hips and pulls you close, “Is that right? Well, I think you like being loud. But seriously, we both know how dangerous this is. It’s 5pm, people are still here working and if they heard us, you would be in so much trouble. I’m just a pilot, but you’re the president of the company, and they’ll make an example out of you.” “I know, I know, I’m sorry. You’re right, we need to be more careful. No more sleeping together at work,” you say trying to sound definitive. Frankie can’t help but smile as he replies, “Baby, listen, I know we’ve talked about this, but I still think we should just come clean about it. Sign the paperwork with HR and then we don’t have to hide anymore.”

It's your turn to sigh now, stepping back from him, “Frankie, no one, I mean no one, will have any respect for me after that. I’m the only woman in any management position at this company and I’ve tried to change that, but I get railroaded at every turn. The few women I am trying to promote, it’ll set them back in their careers if this goes public. They’ll say this happened because I’m a woman who couldn’t resist you. Sleeping with a pilot is pretty cliché after all. And it’ll keep them from promoting more women, even subconsciously. To get to this position, I had to basically be a sexless, emotionless, robot, who made no mistakes. You’re the one risk I’ve taken, and Baby, look at me, I don’t regret it for a second. But we can’t go public, not yet.”

Frankie looks hurt, his eyes watery in the light coming through your office window. He finally speaks, “Not yet maybe not ever.” He kisses you once more and walks out of your office, closing the door behind him. Then you finally let the tears fall, silently, and wipe them away as your desk phone rings and you get back to work.

Frankie sits with Pope at the bar as they wait for Will and Benny to join them. He’s got his standard oil cap pulled low over his head, nursing his beer. He tries not to go too hard with alcohol anymore since his coke addiction, which he’s been done with for over 2 years now. You were there with him since you met, helping him get his license back and get his new job. All before you were ever together. He always loved you though, from the moment he saw you, he was done for. He was recently divorced, after the miscarriage, he and his ex-wife amicably decided to split. They realized they weren’t right for each other. So, when he met you, he knew it was different, it was what people wrote about in books and poetry and he didn’t want to screw it up. He wasn’t ready when Pope introduced you. Plus, he introduced you as someone who could get his life back on track and you had been so gracious. Just an old friend of Pope’s from college who he trusted with his life, so Frankie knew he could trust you too. The more you helped him, the more time you spent together, an undeniable connection forged between you.

And then, just a few months ago when you were working late, Frankie came to say goodbye at the end of the day like he always did. This time, he found you crying at your desk. He quickly locked the door and ran over to kneel beside you, touching your shoulder and then rubbing your back as he said, “No, no, what’s wrong, sweetheart. Oh god, are you okay?” You try and wipe your eyes, but you can’t stop the tears now that they’ve started. You sigh, looking into Frankie’s eyes and say, “It’s okay, Frankie. It’s fine, really, you can go. I don’t want to hold you up.” He shushes you softly, “Stop that now, I’ve got nowhere to be, I’m here. Now please tell me what’s wrong?” You sigh again, almost laughing at yourself, you’re crying at your desk in front of your employee. You trust him and he’s a great friend to you, but you still just feel pathetic like this, you can usually keep emotions out of your job, but that week had just drained you. “I’ve had a shit week, Frank,” you laugh, you always call him Frank when you want to get him to laugh because it seems so ill-fitting for him. Frankie smiles at you and pulls you in for a hug, “We all have shitty weeks sometimes, Hun, I’m here for you, what can I do? I’ll do anything, just name it.” You scoff, “Unless you can distract me enough so I feel like my brain is turned off, I’m not sure there’s anything that can help me. And usually, the only way to get my brain to turn off is to get good and laid.”

The second you say it your eyes shut, and your cheeks flush. You might have had a little crush on Frankie, but he’s never once made any kind of move in all the time you’ve known each other so you’re certain he doesn’t see you like that and fuck, why do you have such a big dumb mouth. “Frankie, oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It was so inappropriate and I-,” you’re cut off by Frankie’s hand on your cheek forcing you to look him in the eye. And fuck, his eyes are dark brown and hauntingly beautiful and right now he’s not laughing or embarrassed, he looks determined. He finally speaks, his lips so close to yours you feel his breath on your mouth, “Is that what you need, pretty girl? You should have just asked; I can take care of that for you.” He looks from your eyes to your mouth, like he’s seeking your permission, and you’re dumbfounded. He starts to pull away and you think this might be your only chance and your week really has been terrible, it’s a Friday, most everyone is gone, and you think he locked the door. And so, you kiss him.

His lips are soft and plump, and his mustache tickles your lip so softly. He kisses you back and suddenly his hands are everywhere and he’s pulling you up out of your chair and pushing you against your desk. You toss his hat off and rake your fingers through his curls. He pulls away from you, grabs your face in his hand and says with heavy breaths, “I need you to tell me you want this.” You swallow loudly while catching your breath too and say, “I want this, Frankie, I want you.” And that’s all he needs; he’s kissing you again and then kissing your neck as he turns you around in his hold and bends you over your desk. Always checking in with every forceful change, “You, okay? This good? Yeah?” And all you do is say, “Yes, yes, more.” He stops hesitating now that you’re more vocal. Reminding him that you’re into what he’s doing with whispered praise and encouragement.

He pulls your dress up and your leggings and panties down, spreading your feet wider with his own. He plays in your slick folds with his fingers, “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet, baby. God, I need to be inside you now.” You respond immediately, “Yes, Frankie, now, fuck. I have an IUD, so if you don’t have a condom its fine, I haven’t been with anyone in ages.” You go quiet after that, slightly embarrassed but Frankie speaks up quickly, “Neither have I, gorgeous, and I don’t have condom on me so fuck it. You ready?” “Yes, Frank, stop teasing and fuck me now.” “Oh, fucking needy little slut, huh?” “Oh, god yes, I’m such a slut for you, don’t make me wait.” And he doesn’t, with a hard thrust, Frankie is flush inside you to the hilt and you moan so loud he has to clap his hand around your mouth and that makes it all the sexier.

Now all you can hear is the sound of wet slapping filling your ears as Frankie absolutely ruins your pussy. “Fuck, Frankie, you’re so big, feels, So. Fucking. Good.” “I know, baby, I know. I think this pussy was made for me, taking me so well but you need to shut the fuck up in case anyone is still here, you know. At work,” Frankie says with a grin on his face and a hand on your shoulder for leverage, pulling you back on his dick hard and fast. His other hand snakes around you to find your clit and rub it perfectly, another languid moan falling from your lips, and he puts his hand around your throat this time to shut you up. He has to control his own volume now, “Fuck, you like that, I can feel you squeezing the life out of me, I’m close baby, you close? Yeah? Yeah, you gonna come all over my cock, honey? Fuck, let’s do it together. I’m gonna count you down so just hold on. Three, fuck, two, unhhh, jesus, one. COME.” Your own hand flies to cover your mouth this time as you absolutely come undone around him and he finishes inside you, both of your bodies slack against the desk and Frankie on top of you, kissing your back.

“Wow, fuck, that was, that was really nice,” Frankie says as he stands back up. Helping you up and turning you around so you can prop yourself up against the desk. He takes tissues from your desk and cleans you up before pulling your clothes back up. Then he’s putting himself back into his jeans. He kisses you sweetly, romantically and you wonder if this means more to him than just sex, you know it means more to you. But he works for you and it's complicated. “Thank you, Frankie, that really did turn my brain off,” you say with a shy smile and heavy-lidded eyes. He smiles back and that dimple comes out and makes the walls you’ve tried to put up between you just crumble. “It was absolutely my pleasure, sweetheart,” Frankie says with a grin. “Anytime you need that, you don’t hesitate to let me know.” You smile and find his hat and place it back on his head backwards, he looks like a 20-year-old like that, it’s really endearing. “I’ll keep that in mind, Pilot,” you say with a salute. “Now scram, I’ll see you Monday.”

Back in the bar, Frankie is totally lost in thought with the memory of that first beautiful encounter in your office when he hears Pope’s voice saying his name. “Frankie, jesus, where the hell are you tonight?” Frankie looks at him, “Sorry man, I’m just thinking about things, I don’t know.” Pope takes another sip of his beer and sighs, “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Frankie doesn’t even pretend that he doesn’t know who Pope is talking about. Pope continues, “You know, I’ve always known, it’s obvious how you to feel about each other.” Frankie breathes, “Yeah, and what about it, nothings ever going to come of it. I don’t think she actually wants anything to do with me.” Pope rolls his eyes, “That’s ridiculous Frankie, she’s been in love with you from the start, and if you can’t make it work with her, that’s your problem.” Frankie looks frustrated, “That’s easy to say but it’s complicated between us and at work, you wouldn’t understand, Pope.” He sighs, “Do you care about her, Frank?” Frankie nods. “And do you love her?” Frankie nods. “And would you do anything for her?” Frankie nods. “Well, I think you have your fucking answer, buddy. Now, go make it happen.”

You’re sitting on your couch; you haven’t even put on a show. This is that thing that happens. You feel fucked up. You feel sad and you can’t really bring yourself to do anything. Even to like throw on a show you can pretend to watch. Fuck. But now someone is knocking at your front door. And after what feels like a long time, you go and answer it. Frankie is standing there. He looks at you with worry, once he sees the emptiness in your eyes. You turn back into your home and beckon him inside. “Hey,” you say, softly. “Hey,” he says back as he walks past you, into your house.

“Hun, are you okay?” Frankie says as he walks into your living room and takes a seat on your couch. “No, I’m not okay, Frankie,” you reply as you slump down on the couch next to him. “I want you; I don’t know what to do. This job isn’t easy, and I don’t know how to be strong and be myself and be with you, but I’ll do what it takes. Fuck it. I love you, Frankie.” He crashes his lips to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. After a few moments he pulls back to look you in the eyes, they’re pained but they’re more alive now. “Baby, I love you, too. I want you so much. Please be mine, let everyone know. All I want is to be by your side, always,” Frankie urges.

At the next office party, you and Frankie exchange glances and smiles from across the room. It feels like the two of you are the only ones there. You know what you need to do. You can’t stay away from him anymore. You don’t want to. You want him by your side, you want to introduce him as your boyfriend, god maybe even husband. This is very clearly the love of your life, and you don’t want to wait another second. No one’s ever made you feel more safe, more loved, more at home. Frankie’s looking at you from a few feet away, you’re smiling at him so brightly he feels like his heart may stop. You start to walk over to him and when you reach him you say quietly, “Let’s tell them. Let’s tell Sally in HR right now. I can’t wait any longer.” Franking holds your hand, the brightest smile on his face as he starts walking you over to Sally. She greets you both, “Fun party, huh? It’s a really nice venue this year.” Frankie speaks first, “Hi, Sally, yeah, um we know we should do this at the office, and we will next week but she,” he says looking over at you, “and I are entering into a romantic relationship, and we’d like to sign whatever paperwork you think we need to make it all above board.” You smile shyly, looking to Frankie who helps your heartrate lower just by looking in your eyes. “Yeah, we are together, and we wanted to tell you tonight.” Sally looks to both of you a little smirk appearing on her face, “Um, sure, that’s fine, we’ll have the paperwork for you all Monday afternoon. You know, we all expected this to happen sooner or later the way you two look at each other, you’d have to be dead not to notice. Congrats!” And she walks off to the bar for a drink.

Frankie looks at you silently and you look back at him. “Were we really that obvious?” you ask. And then you both start laughing out loud at the ridiculous situation you’ve found yourselves in. Another pilot named Dan sees you laughing and walks over, “So, looks like you two finally admitted to banging?” This is exactly the kind of shit you were afraid of but before you or Frankie could speak, the owner of the company, Richard, comes over and says, “Dan, shut up and go drink some coffee.” Then he looks to you and says, “I heard the news already, you know gossip travels faster than lightning here. I’m happy for you two, I think you make a fine couple. Now Son,” he turns to Frankie, “you better act respectfully here, she’s the best a brightest of us and she’s here to stay.” Frankie swallows and you hold his hand a little tighter, “You got it, Sir.” “Good, hope you two enjoy the rest of the party.”

You and Frankie spend the party in each other’s arms, and while you know this is going to be difficult to maneuver, knowing Richard values you so much and that Frankie really will be by your side through it all, you’re less afraid than you were before. And you think it’s time you start speaking to Richard more about the women you are mentoring for management roles and being more proactive for them.

The next time you see Pope, you and Frankie are arm and arm walking towards him at the bar and he has the biggest grin on his face. “Finally!” he says and then he brings you both into a tight hug as he continues, “My two favorite people, finally getting their heads out of their asses and just admitting what all of us already knew.” “Your two favorite people, what does that make us,” says Benny as he and Will walk up to join you all. Smiling and hugging you and Frankie. “We were all placing bets on when it finally happened,” Will says, “and I won. Knew it after last time I saw Frankie here, knew it’d be within a month, the man’s got it bad.” You speak up then, but looking directly in Frankie’s beautiful brown eyes, “I’m the one who’s got it bad, baby.” You kiss him and the boys whoop to that. What you don’t know is that Frankie’s got a ring in his sock drawer in the house that you’re moving into next week.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this. It was so much fun to write and it's my first challenge writing. :)

#roll a trope challenge #ashleyfilm #frankie x f!reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction

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venuscxre · 1 month ago

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⌞ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 ; 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐓 ⌝

summary ; arguments with lancelot are not just rare, they’re painful as well.

request ; “ hi if you can may you please write lancelot x reader (established relationship) and they have a fight and what his reaction would be when he notices the reader is crying. hurt/comfort & fluff please. thank you. ” — @anemi100amine

pairing ; lancelot / fem!reader

wc ; 1.0k

tags ; angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, post-percival death.

notes ; another lancelot request!! sorry this took so long :((

𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠

it isn’t uncommon for couples to have disagreements. everyone has little lover’s quarrels and always goes through some trouble whilst in paradise, right? but goddamn, it hurts. why does it have to hurt so bad?

you and lancelot haven’t been on the best terms lately. for whatever reason, he’s been more closed off and unresponsive than he usually is. you reckon it’s because of whatever happened back in the demon realm. you’d caught wind of percival dying; it broke your heart to say the least, percy was a great friend and an adorable ball of sunshine. you’d never seen someone bring out such bright smiles other than yourself from lancelot.

you were off on another mission, investigating the parts of liones that were starting to disappear, and when you’d gotten back to the kingdom to give your report everything and everyone was… off. you scoured the entire palace looking for any sign of your boyfriend or your friends but found no one. the queen was the one to break the news to you. you promptly left for benwick to go find lancelot.

when you arrived, you noticed just how dreary the atmosphere was. ban and elaine pointed you straight to lancelot’s room, neither of them saying a word. you knock on the door and wait a few seconds before peeking inside. “lance..?”

your boyfriend’s back was turned to you, facing the window. you step inside and sit by him, your fingers going to thread into his hair. he was awake, just staring into the abyss with no acknowledgment of your presence. your heart pangs and you frown.

“lance–”

“don’t. don’t speak to me right now.”

you oblige and stick to running your fingers through his hair. eventually, you leave the room to give him space.

“he’s still in a mood?” ban looks down at you. he’s leant against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

“..yes..”

the king notices your downtrodden expression and ruffles your hair. “don’t sweat it, kid. he’s been that way for the past few weeks. he just needs some time.”

time, of course. everyone processes grief differently, they just need some time to get back on their feet.

however, days had turned into weeks and those weeks turned into months. lancelot still wasn’t communicating. it frustrated you a bit and that frustration gave way to guilt. he was close to percy and you understand that, but percival was your friend, too. you miss him as well, but you miss your boyfriend too. it’s like you’ve lost both of them..

once again, you found yourself in his room, determined to get him to at least talk to you. you want to be there for him and lend him your shoulder. you want to let him give you some of his burden, but he wasn’t having it.

“for fuck’s sake, why won’t you just leave me alone!?”

you stand there, frozen. you hadn’t even gotten your sentence out completely. “l–lance…”

“no! i don’t want to hear it! god, could you be any more annoying!? i want to be left alone, so why don’t you just leave! i don’t want you here!”

your expression falters and your initial frustration gives way to the anger that’s been simmering within you for the past few months. “well, excuse me for wanting to be a caring girlfriend and lend you a shoulder to cry on! how about you stop wallowing in your self-imposed isolation and let me help you!”

“what part of get out don’t you fucking understand? god, i can’t stand you. just leave and never come back!”

you pause. was… was he breaking up with you…?

“you–”

“I SAID LEAVE GODDAMMIT!”

to say you’re stunned to silence is an understatement. you don’t even notice when tears start rolling down your cheeks. to avoid further humiliation, you rush out of the room and pass his parents who looked at you with concern; that argument wasn’t the most quiet after all.

you hurriedly pack up the things you’d come with and take your leave, intending to head back to liones. all the way, you couldn’t stop your tears from flowing. you feel like shit;

everyone has little lover’s quarrels, right? this’ll pass, right?

no, he said he never wanted you to come back, so that means you guys aren’t ever coming back from this. you stop walking and sit under a tree, and you cry. you cried there for hours and even ended up falling asleep under that tree, too emotionally drained to even move.

meanwhile, lancelot feels like absolute dogshit. shortly after you left, his father gave him a good talking to and told him to get off his ass and go find you.

now that his anger has simmered down, he can’t help but feel like a terrible boyfriend. he made you cry. he’s never made you cry before.

by the time he’d found you, it was dark out. he sighed, seeing you curled up under a tree with your bag used as a makeshift pillow. it gets really cold in benwick and being out here like this could get you sick. lancelot stoops down and cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently, wiping away the tear streaks on your face.

without waking you up, lancelot scoops you into his arms and carries you back, tucking you into his bed so you could sleep properly.

when you awoken, you noticed the change of your surroundings. “what the..”

“you awake?”

lancelot sits by you, his hand toying with your hair. “you slept for a while. are you hungry?”

you sit up, confused. did that whole fight not happen or is this someone else posing as your boyfriend. hell, are you even awake right now?

sensing your confusion, lancelot sighs. “i’m sorry.”

“..what..?”

“i’m sorry for what i said. i shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. you were only trying to help,” he murmured, cupping your face. “i’m sorry for making you cry. i really am..”

you crack a smile. “i’m sorry, too.. i was getting a little frustrated, but it isn’t your fault. you deserve to mourn..”

he huffs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you down onto the bed with him, his face buried in your neck. he leaves kisses against your neck to make you feel better. he didn’t want to admit it, but he’s scared, terrified, of losing you.”

“..i love you, you know that, right?”

“i know you do. i love you, too.”

“good. now, go back to sleep, idiot.”

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated. <33

#nanatsu no taizai #nnt #the seven deadly sins #7ds #the seven deadly sins x reader #7ds x reader #mokushiroku no yonkishi #mnyk #four knights of the apocalypse #4kota #4koa #four knights of the apocalypse x reader #4kota x reader #4kota lancelot #lancelot x reader #ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐂𝐗𝐑𝐄 ˎˊ˗#ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 : 𝟒𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀 ˎˊ˗

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months ago

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andar conmigo ~ epilogue

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: FLUFF chapter map

Author's Note: I just want to say a quick THANK YOU to everyone who followed along and supported this story! Girl Genius @scarlettspectra who helped me with the original idea, my utterly beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff , the SWEETEST @sweetwolfcupcake (who fried my brain with that gif of Paul, thank u! 😘 , the always RAZOR sharp @discoscoob, the hilarious @lilithlinen , the insightful @reallongwire , emoji queen @thesecretlifeofmo , 🖤 @lonelyspadez and SO many others, I wouldn't have finished this without you, it wouldn't have been as much fun, and it CERTAINLY wouldn't be the fic it is without your amazing input!

-You’re going to have to rewrite the train station scene in your story, because you take him with you at the platform, and you are smart enough not to let go.

At first, you stay together in your tiny apartment with its fetching view of a brick wall. The arrangement was fine, if not a little cramped. You spend most of your time in bed, anyway, but you find you don’t mind sharing your space with Paul, or your cooking, or your time. Goddammit if Anjelica wasn’t right about that.

But maybe he knows you better than you know yourself.

Without you needing to ask, [and you’re not sure you even would have, truth be told], he eventually gets his own place. Yet, you are still inseparable, barring the hours you go to work, and he goes to school.

You find that you are equally happy to have your own space back, yet unbearably restless for the next time you will get to see him. It is a strange medley to balance in your life, and a part of you hopes that someday maybe you really will score that apartment with enough room for the two of you, and a typewriter overlooking the Bay.

On the odd days you do not see each other, he writes you a letter, and you always write him back.

As it turns out, Paul Sutton likes things that go, and he enrolls to study engines at a technical college in San Francisco.

The day he roars up to your apartment in a leather jacket on a Norton motorcycle with a big grin, you cannot help but laugh. It seems like a ridiculous machine, and yet after the first time he takes you for a ride–it becomes one of your favorite things to do with him. You tear up and down the coast in your free time, picnicking at the beach or beneath towering sequoia trees.

You have both healed from your misadventure, withstanding the occasional cough, or the odd nightmare...on a whole, your life together is so sweet, and the irony does not escape you that on more than one occasion you have to restrain yourself from asking him to marry you. But Paul is starting to find himself, given time in which he’s not running between raindrops, enemy fire, or immediately jumping into the responsibility of supporting a wife and children.

He does not always take you on his motorcycle trips, often going on long rides to clear his head. He says it helps ease his mind, when his memories from the war become too loud in his head.

Most of the time though, he seems content, and you are so happy for that.

-The first time after he dropped into your office at the publishing house to bring you flowers, just because, bless that man, your boss asks, “So that’s Peter?”

“No, that’s Paul,” you tease him, aware that your beau’s good looks have a certain effect upon both sexes, no matter their preferences.

You’d let your superior read your manuscript of your book, after catching you working on it at your desk during a break. You decided to title it, “A Walk in the Clouds.” You’re not getting your hopes up, as he hems and haws over it. He keeps proposing changes to the story that would be untenable to you, as well as writing under a man’s pen name, or a less Spanish-sounding surname, in the interest of appealing to a broader audience. Maybe someday, you’ll find an agent who will champion your vision, and a publisher who won’t hold it against you that you are an intelligent self-taught Hispanic woman with opinions that challenge the conformity of post-War America.

Maybe someday, things will be better…

Until then, you’ll just have to keep writing.

-A year later, the two of you are out to lunch at a North Beach café, when a slick-looking man in a dapper suit passes by your table, then does a double-take at Paul, who was engaged mid-bite with his open mouth over a fork full of pasta.

“Hey kid,” he says. “Ever thought of being in movies?”

Taken aback, Paul wipes his lips with his napkin, regarding the man quizzically. “Ah…no, never occurred to me,” he admits to the stranger with a quizzical lift of eyebrows.

“You got the look. Call me.” The Hollywood man flips a card onto the table, then strolls off like he has somewhere important to be.

Paul looks at you, then laughs, shaking his head as he looks at the card. He is so humble about his dashing good looks, finding it embarrassing when women slow down to ogle him on the street, (or in one amusing case–to you at least– trip over the sidewalk).

“How silly,” he says with a little smile, tearing off a piece of bread. He’s playing it down, but you think you see a glitter of intrigue in those polished ebony eyes.

You shrug. “Who knows?” you say playfully. “You’re certainly the best-looking man I know.”

After all this time, his cheeks still pink for you, his ears turning red at the tips.

“Well, that’s all that matters to me,” he tells you, reaching across the table for your hand. You slide your fingers into his, so happy you could die.

Afterwards you go for a stroll, hand in hand, looking in the windows of the shops and laughing together, your head on his shoulder.

It’s hard to imagine that life could get much sweeter than this. Deep down, a tiny, selfish part of you hopes he doesn’t call that Hollywood headhunter. How drastically would your life with him change, if he became a star on the silver screen?

That’s when you know you absolutely believe he’s got what it takes–and you beat back your ugly little fears, resolving that you won’t stand in his way, if he wants to try for it.

You realize you’re squeezing his hand too hard when he looks down at you with a question in his eyes. “Sorry,” you apologize, tilting your head for a kiss.

He grants your request, and his soft lips on yours still curl your toes. He rests his forehead against yours with that little smile, just for you…and your fears go quiet, replaced by the soft glow this man always inspires in you.

“Just in case you didn’t know…I would marry you in a heartbeat, if you ever change your mind about all that.”

You blink, your heart a sparkling firework trapped in your chest.

You have to try twice before you can find your voice.

“I think…I would like that, Paul Sutton.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He laughs out loud, that beautiful sound that fuels you as surely as food or drink or air. He picks you up right in the middle of the sidewalk, spinning you around in a circle before his lips find yours again.

Suddenly, you’re not worried about anything.

-Paul drops you off at your apartment after a lingering kiss before rumbling off on the Norton. He has to study up for a test on Monday, and you’ve found when you try to help him with his studies more often than not you just end up in bed together.

There are worse things, but this is an important exam. You’re sure he’ll pass with flying colors, then you can reward him properly.

You practically skip up the stairs, still giddy from earlier. Are you and Paul actually engaged? Promised to be engaged? Merely in talks? You’re not really sure, but it doesn’t matter. You’re together, and you feel like you have all the time in the world to figure it out. The whole country is in such a hurry now that the war has ended, but the two of you have learned you don’t mind taking your time.

You almost step on a little lump of something left before your door. Puzzled, you pick it up. It reminds you of the handmade little ragdolls you and your sisters used to play with, made of cloth and thread and horse hair.

But this toy is burned, half her hair singed away, her blackened face pulled in a terrible grimace.

With a frown you lay it back to rest on the floor beside your door.

Maybe the neighbor’s girl down the hall dropped her toy. She might want it back. If it’s still there tomorrow…you’ll throw it out.

Your earlier elation dampered by a weird feeling weighing in your gut, you let yourself into your apartment, and go about the rest of your day.

Yet as you sit down with your notebook and a cup of tea to warm the chill inside you, you cannot stop thinking about it.

There’s no way in Hell that terrible man survived that fire…

Is there?

The End…

Or is it?👀

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 1 year ago

Text

Last Updated: 2024-06-05

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite James 'Bucky' Barnes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

✑ Barnes, the by bakugousaysdie • 18+ • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Bucky Barnes has settled down, living in a beautiful home in new orleans with his wife, a former avenger. these are the different stories of how they navigate being superheroes, spouses, and parents."

✑ A Little Less Restless by majestyeverlasting • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "As Bucky finds himself within the still familiarity of Brooklyn, he comes to realize that he deserves nice things... that he deserves you."

✑ Bean Sprout by coffee-with-bucky • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: You come back home to see that your daughter and your husband had done each other's hair.

✑ Bingo￨Prt. II by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Sparks fly at Bingo night.

✑ Black Eye by iwillbeinmynest • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "A distracted Bucky and a sparring accident [have you seeking answers] from the Winter Soldier."

✑ Camera View by teamatsumu • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: While triggered into Winter Soldier mode, Bucky nearly kills the reader.

✑ Care by wewritesoyoucanenjoy • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: When your friend & roommate Bucky returns home

✑ Drunk Buck Running Amuck by coffee-with-bucky • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Bucky is drunk and absolutely giddy with affection and you don’t know whether to thank or kill Thor.

✑ Five Minutes by thesaltysocialworker • 18+ • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Flour by geminiwritten • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Sam kisses you to save your cover on a mission, and Bucky punches him... but you still don't believe he's in love with you?"

✑ Girl Next Door by thepokyone • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Goddammit by lokiedokiee-fanfic • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Guilty Pleasure by x-childish-x • 18+ • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Things quickly get steamy when Bucky returns from a long mission, but he's later ridden with guilt from the results of your pleasure."

✑ Hey There Soldier by thebestandworstdayofjune • 〔F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Honeysuckle by redgillan • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Bucky remembers how he fell in love with [you]."

✑ Hopelessly Devoted by grace-writes-sh*t • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "…"

✑ How We Met by teamatsumu •

✑ I Like Me Better when I'm with You by themorningsunshine • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "Bucky isn't in love with you, nope, not at all, not even a bit, that doesn't mean he has to like that man who is shamelessly drooling over you."

✑ I'll Love You Better by fadingfics • 18+ • 〔M᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday, and you have a huge surprise prepared for him. But things don’t exactly go as planned.

✑ Independence by imaginativemarvel • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✑ Jessie's Girl by geminiwritten • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Natasha encourages you to date one of the new recruits in the hopes that it might provoke Bucky to confess his feelings for you."

✑ Lay All Your Love on Me by iwillbeinmynest • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: "Bucky goes out for a night with the guys but, you can't shake the jealousy no matter how much you hate it."

✑ Lessons in Love by violentdelightsandviolentends • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you."

✑ Never Forget by wewritesoyoucanenjoy •

Summary: "After being put in cryo until Shuri could fix him, Bucky is woken up and feeling more like himself. Shuri needs to talk to Bucky and takes you with her."

✑ Pieces Welded in Gold by grace-writes-sh*t • 〔F᜶A᜶C〕 •

Summary: "[You were] too good for him. This is something he had in his head from the moment he had met [you]. [You were] a light in everyone's lives, whereas he was just a pathetic excuse for an Avenger..."

✑ Puppy Eyes by coffee-with-bucky •

Prompt(s): "I'm absolutely, completely, utterly, in love with you." + "Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"

✑ Repose by coffee-with-bucky • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Still Having Nightmares by spilledkauffie • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You squeezed your eyes closed, trying not to let the tears fall. But they weren't for you—from outside the door, down the hall, and into the living room, you heard the soft mumbling…"

✑ Take Me Home by miserable-sarah • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "A guy hits on you at a club, Bucky takes control."

✑ Tequlia by loving-barnes • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Once the team is gone, it's time to celebrate [your and Bucky's] three months anniversary sex, drugs and rock and roll style."

✑ Unconventional Night Out by teamatsumu • 〔F〕 •

Summary: [You meet] Bucky while [your] are both hiding inside a restaurant, one from a creepy guy at the bar, the other from a terrible blind date."

✑ Under the Wakandan Sky by imerdwarf • 〔F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ You Wanna Try That Again Sweetheart by delicatenightfury •

Summary: {…}

✑ Affection Starved by idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Breakfast by iwillbeinmynest • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Bucky's Troublemaker by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Conscience by iamnotoriginalphil •

✑ Death of Me, the by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Drunk Love by writings-of-a-british-fangirl •

✑ Forever and Ever by when-i-was-your-angel • 〔A᜶F〕 •

✑ Go Back to Sleep by randomfandomimagine • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ How About You Make Me by iamnotorginalphil • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ I Missed You by baseballbitch116 • 〔F〕 •

✑ I Missed You by iwillbeinmynest • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ I Think that Went Well by iamnotorginalphil • 〔F᜶A〕 •

✑ Just as You Are by andsheloved • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Keep Me Alive by freyjhasdesiredreality • 〔A᜶C〕 •

✑ Let Me Take Care of You by andsheloved • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Little Secret by x-childish-x • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lover by dionysus-drabbles •

✑ Lucious Locks by idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Make up. Make Me. by imerdwarf • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Marry Me? What? by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Meet the Team by baseballbitch116 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Missed You by stuckylaufeyson • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Morning Light by teamatsumu • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Only Thing That Matters by teamatsumu •

✑ Out in the Open by jewels2876 •

✑ Punches by parkersbliss • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Real by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Show Me What You Got by multifandomhaven • 〔F〕 •

✑ Sick Cuddles by randomfandomimagine • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Smile by andsheloved • 〔F〕 •

✑ Softness by imerdwarf • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Starry Nights & Flower Crowns by generallynerdy •

✑ To the Moon by andsheloved • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Touch of Your Skin, the by imerdwarf • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Training ￨Prt. II by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F᜶M〕 •

✑ Trouble Sleeping by wewritesoyoucanenjoy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Welcome Home by teamatsumu • 〔F᜶E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wisdom by parkersbliss • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ You're Perfect by baseballbitch116 • 〔F〕 •

✑ Being Affectionate w/ Bucky by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Being Short & Dating Bucky… by teamatsumu • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Caring for Bucky Post-Winter Soldier Mode… by teamatsumu • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cuddling w/ Bucky by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Grocery Shopping w/ Bucky… by bakugousaysdie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Having a Child w/ Bucky￨Prt. II by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Having Your First Time w/ Bucky… by bakugousaysdie • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || James Barnes Master Index

Authors: @andsheloved || @bakugousaysdie || @baseballbitch116 || @coffee-with-bucky || @delicatenightfury || @dionysus-drabbles || @fadingfics || @freyjhasdesiredreality || @geminiwritten || @generallynerdy || @grace-writes-shit || @iamnotoriginalphil || @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 || @imaginativemarvel || @imerdwarf || @iwillbeinmynest || @jewels2876 || @lokiedokiee-fanfic || @loving-barnes || @majestyeverlasting || @miserable-sarah || @multifandomhaven || @oneshots-imagines-and-that || @parkersbliss || @randomfandomimagine || @redgillan || @spilledkauffie || @stuckylaufeyson || @teamatsumu || @thebestandworstdayofjune || @themorningsunshine || @thepokyone || @thesaltysocialworker || @violentdelightsandviolentends || @wewritesoyoucanenjoy || @when-i-was-your-angel || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl || @x-childish-x ||

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky x Reader #Bucky x Female Reader #Bucky x Y/N #Bucky x You #Sebastian Stan x Reader #Sebastian Stan x Female Reader #Sebastian Stan x Y/N #Sebastian Stan x You #Marvel Fanfiction #Marvel Fanfic #Bucky Fanfiction #Bucky Fanfic #Sebastian Stan Fanfiction #Sebastian Stan Fanfic

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strwbmei · 1 year ago

Text

Halloween Special.

summary: "accidentally" summoning a demon turns into a heavenly experience

contains: afab reader, porn with plot, soft sex, sub!reader, succubus!elysia, a bit of fluff, somnophilia (?), soft dom!elysia, monsterfucking, virgin!reader, pet names,

pairing(s): elysia x reader

a/n: happy birthday to my wife!!! found this draft on my old account and it seemed perfect since it's Halloween season and it's also Elysia's birthday, so I decided to finish it

A few days ago, your professor had assigned your class to write an essay on any topic; and demons happened to pique your interest.

Long story short— the book you bought for research happened to include a guide on summoning these demons. Well, you called it a guide, but it was more of a ritual if you were being honest.

Of course, not that you ever thought of using it.

You flipped through the pages, skimming along the images and descriptions. Once you saw the word 'succubus', you had to do a double take. The mere thought of a beautiful succubus softly dominating you in bed and guiding you through everything was enough to make your cheeks flare up as red as a tomato...

Okay. You're a horny college student— but you aren't a stupid one. Sex demon or regular demon, you don't need the presence of either in your already hectic life.

You put the book away, not giving it much thought. The deadline is 3 weeks away, and you're tired. Research can wait. For now, you'd try to get some much needed sleep.

As hard as you tried to fall asleep, you just.. couldn't. It felt as if the book was calling out to you; and there was a name echoing throughout your mind— Elysia. A name so beautiful, yet it cursed you with sleeplessness and senseless yearning.

Goddammit.

You sighed as you begrudgingly followed the thankfully detailed instructions on the book. Luckily, the ritual for summoning succubi was fairly simple compared to the others. It can't be helped— you thought.

You were just taking a more hands-on approach for research purposes. Yeah. You definitely didn't want to meet a hot succubus lady. That would be absolutely preposterous.

NSFW below the cut !

A few minutes passed. Nothing. Maybe you did something wrong? No, you're sure you followed the instructions to the tee.

Fifteen minutes now. Still nothing.

You sigh, finally giving up. It was dumb to believe the guide would work, and that demons even existed in the first place. It did at least manage to get rid of the weird name that was stuck in your head, so there's that.

Not even bothering to turn off the lights, you yawn as you lay down in bed. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment nipping at you as you drift off to sleep.

However, all of it disappears when you awake to the sound of birds tweeting cheerfully and the warmth of the sunlight shining through the windows. Was it just you, or did the world seem much more colorful? Amazingly, you slept like a log. Even though you just woke up, you already felt energized and refreshed and-

Who is that lady at the foot of your bed?

You tried to scream, but it came out as a choked gasp.

The lady had long pink hair tied into a low ponytail, elven ears that twitched every once in a while, and a beautiful face that lit up once she saw you open your eyes. "⊓□⦝⦝⟃ >⊓□⟔□, ⸅⟔□>>⋖ ꓶ｢⟔⦝!"

Her voice was distorted and monstrous, yet at the same time akin to a soothing lullaby. You tilt your head in confusion, still half asleep. She let her mouth hang open for a bit, closing it as it formed into a small smile. She clears her throat. "Good morning, pretty girl! Slept well?"

You simply stared at her in awe as you nodded absentmindedly. What is happening? Who is this gorgeous beauty and why is she in your room?

A realization hits you as you look down and see the bat-like wings that went from the small of her back and wrapped around the front of her thighs along with the skimpy outfit she's wearing; a flush of red creeping up your cheeks at the same time.

Oh.

"I forgot humans used a different language these days.." She mutters to herself, smiling widely as she observes your every reaction. "I'm Elysia, the succubus you summoned!" Elysia exclaimed cheerfully, clasping her hands together.

She eyed you up and down, licking her lips as she crawled over to you. "What a treat we have here.." now that you're a bit, y'know, awake— you have the time to process how sweet Elysia's voice is to your ears.

Everything about her bewitched you. From her luscious locks of pink hair, her striking blue eyes that looked upon you with their loving gaze, to her plump lips that seemed perfect for kissing— amongst... many other things.

Elysia; meaning perfection, beauty, and paradise— the woman in front of you did not fit the name, for the name was made for her instead. Elysia was paradise personified.

Her laugh, similar to a melodious choir, brought you back to reality. "If you keep staring at me like that.. even I'll get embarrassed~" The warmth of her touch brings you to realize how close Elysia is to you, and the situation you're in. The situation you're about to be in.

You sat up immediately. "Wait, this is a misunderstand-" you gulp as Elysia places a finger on your lips, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"You're saying you don't want to have sex with me?"

Okay. She got you there.

Elysia takes your silence as a yes, giggling as she kisses your forehead softly. "You're so cute, I could just gobble you up!" She spoke as if she were talking to a puppy, yet her eyes had an underlying glint of lust.

Unbeknownst to you, you were the first to summon Elysia for, more or less, 50,000 years. The succubus had a lot of pent-up sexual frustration, and you were the unfortunate soul that had to take accountability for it.

"Maybe I'll do just that... What do you say, beautiful?" She tucks your hair behind your ears, her gaze warm and reassuring. Elysia was horny, but she placed your comfort first and foremost.

Did she just call you beautiful? More importantly, did she just say that she wanted to eat you out? You prayed that you were able to keep a straight face in the few moments that passed; that you were able to hold back the elated grin that threatened to curl on your lips.

You were thrilled. Exhilarated, even. Whether you wanted Elysia to know that or not, the shade of red tinting your cheeks and the way you rubbed your thighs together was enough to tell her the truth. "I'd.. love that."

Elysia wasted no time in removing your clothes, leaving a trail of kisses on your bare skin as she went. They were sloppy and hungry; yet at the same time assuring and tender. She took her time to appreciate the work of art that was your body. Her touch wandered all over you— from your shoulders, to your arms, to the small of your back. "You're so pretty like this."

Though it was part of Elysia's job as a succubus to tell her clients what they wanted to hear, she genuinely meant every word. The woman wanted you to know that, and she'd gladly show you with her actions.

She made her way down to your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart as she lowered herself to meet your glistening cunt. You sigh shakily when her warm breath teases your entrance.

"Are you nervous?" Elysia smiled up at you. "No, it's just- this is my first time, so..." You trailed off, eyes darting side to side to keep from making eye contact.

She giggled at your reaction, planting a soft kiss to your clit; the gesture making your breath hitch. "Just relax, let me take care of you." She reassured you. With the knowledge that she was taking your first time, Elysia was even more determined to make you feel good.

"Besides, I don't mind teaching a cutie like you how to please a woman." She winked before shallowly thrusting her tongue into your folds; experimentally dragging the wet muscle along your walls and eliciting a few moans from you.

Elysia's eyes attentively observed each and every reaction— whether it be the way your head fell back whenever her nose rubbed against your clit or the way you moaned a little louder when her tongue pressed flat against a specific spot.

"Fuck.." You hissed under your breath, knuckles turning pale from how hard you were gripping the sheets. It seems you aren't the only one enjoying this; you could feel Elysia's movements grow hungrier, slender hands spreading your thighs apart even more.

Your other hand pushed her head down as you muttered apologies in between moans. She didn't seem to mind; only working harder to please you as her thumb reached to play with your clit. "A-ah... Elysia..!"

Even with your eyes screwed shut with pleasure, you can feel her smile against your cunt. "Mm... You sound so pretty moaning my name." She groans, growing hungrier and more relentless in its pace. She just can't control herself; can't help wanting to taste you.

Her eyes looked up at you with lust and need as you bucked your hips to meet her tongue, making a mess of her face as you came all over it. Elysia continues tongue-fucking you throughout your orgasm, helping you ride out your high.

After Elysia deems that she has prolonged your orgasm to its limit, she crawls over to your exhausted body. "Is this a dream?" You pant out between breaths, eyes still shut as beads of sweat rolled down your forehead.

She giggled at your question. "If it was," You opened your eyes to find the woman giving you a warm smile; gaze as reassuring and comforting as ever. "would you want to wake up?"

"..."

"Then, just let me make you feel good." Elysia's smile transformed into a grin, eyes on either side of your thighs as she straddled your lap. She isn't quite done with you just yet.

It seems that you were, though.

You groan as you're woken up by that stupid, stupid alarm that just had to ring when you were getting to the good part. Ugh.

How were you supposed to focus on studying for the whole day after... whatever that was? Why did you summon her in the first place?

Can... you summon her again?

╰┈➤ taglist ; @teethoftheeditor , @roninraccoon , @hedgehog666 , @dukemira , @faerierambles , @the-night-owl-blr

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holdmytesseract · 6 months ago

Note

Horror movie night with daryl, pre-apocalypse ?

Movie Night

Warnings: pre-apocalypse. fluff? swear words, Merle?

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Pre-apocalypse Daryl is just something else... I love to write him! I really hope you like what I came up with! 🤗

P.S. I just finished two new Daryl stories. So... There's a lot to come your way! 😁

You were just on the way to work; having set foot in the bus five minutes ago, when you felt your phone vibrating inside the pocket of your jeans. Quickly removing your headphones, you fished for the little device. A smile darted across your face at the name on the display.

"Hey, sweetie, what's up?"

"Hey, uh, I didn't wake ya, did I?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend urged to your ears; making you smile. "No, ya didn't. I'm on my way to work." "Now?" He asked kinda confused; presumably checking the time - again. "I thought ya have ta take on the night-shift over the weekend?"

"Uh, yeah, originally that was the plan, but they changed it up again. 'M staying in the early shift the rest of the week. Plus..." Your smile even widened. "... Saturday is my day off now." "Not Tuesday next week?" "Nope - and that means, you could come over Friday evening and we could, I don't know... Watch a movie together and order some pizza?" "Sounds great, sunshine, I-" Suddenly Daryl got interrupted by a voice in the background. A voice you only knew too well... "Stop talkin' to yer girl and get yer lazy ass over here!" Merle.

"I gotta go..." Daryl announced seconds later. "Yeah, sure... You're coming over then?" "I'll try." It was all he said, before he hung up, causing you to roll your eyes. Daryl behaved so different when he was with his brother. The older Dixon was definitely a bad influence - and nobody could convince you otherwise.

You sighed and plucked your headphones back in; switching on your music once more.

You had already made up your mind that Daryl wasn't going to show up. You had learned in the past months not to expect too much of Daryl, when he was with Merle. So, you already decided to change into your pyjama t-shirt and shorts, made yourself a huge bowl of popcorn and flopped on the small sofa in your little apartment to watch a movie alone.

You had just decided on something, when the rather shrill doorbell ripped you out of your thoughts; causing you to flinch.

"Goddammit," you cursed while unwrapping yourself from the cocoon of blankets and jogging to the door.

Slightly out of breath, you pushed down the handle of the door.

"Daryl?" Your jaw dropped; eyes widening as you looked at the redneck across from you. He was wearing his signature orange checkered shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a baggy black jeans; leaning against the door frame with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "I-I thought you couldn't make it?"

He just casually shrugged his shoulders, "I told ya, I'd try..." and gave you a small boyish smile. "'Sides, I wanted to see ya..."

You raised an eyebrow; a smile creeping up your face. You stepped closer to your boyfriend; wrapping your arms around his neck. "Oh, really? Did ya?" Daryl nodded; placing his hands on your hips. "Sure. Merle wasn't happy 'bout me leavin', but I don' care. I ain't letting him forbid me seeing my girl." Your heart fluttered at his words. You smiled even wider and simply pressed a kiss on his lips.

"C'mon then. I almost started without ya." You took his hand and pulled him after you inside your small apartment. Daryl just managed to kick the door shut with his foot. "What were ya goin' to watch?" "Just some kind of trash horror movie." "A trash horror movie, huh?"

You sat down on the sofa with Daryl immediately pulling you onto his lap. "Yep. With zombies, tons of fake blood and very bad acting." "Perfect."

You really enjoyed the time you had with Daryl. It were moments like this, which reminded you that Daryl was not remotely as bad as people told you he would be. No, he was yours and he was the most wonderful thing that happened to you.

"Fuckin' hell, that was the worst movie I've ever seen," the brown haired man stated and shook his head; smiling. You giggled and shifted; removed your legs from his lap and cuddled against his shoulder. "But it was funny and at least a bit scary." He nodded. "Yeah, I give ya that." Daryl wrapped an arm around you; pulling you closer.

"Thank you for being here. With me." Your boyfriend smiled another genuinely happy smile. "I'll always be, sunshine."

Tags: @suniloli @stitchintimefan @in-this-minute @wolfsmom1 @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @fuseburner @mandywholock1980 @celtic-crossbow @lou12346789 @mischief-dream @km-ffluv @buttercupcookies-blog @crimson25 @salvinaa @javagirl328 @sweetz1919

#campfire sleepover #2k follower celebration #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

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ro-written · 1 year ago

Text

Me Gustas Tu - J.W

Tags/Warnings: Fluff; Nothing really, gn!reader, very little rereading cause that’s my brand now

Word Count: 1.1k

Song Inspo: “Me Gustas Tu” by Manu Chao

Jung Wooyoung likes a lot of things.

He likes the color black. He enjoys the simplicity of it. Appreciates the way he can dress it with anything and can find familiarity within it. It’s a quiet color. The color he comes back to at the end of the day in his bedroom. One that helps calm him and rest his mind after a flashy, long, overwhelming day. It’s the color that surrounds him and allows him to be himself.

He likes seeing you sleep peacefully under his black comforter in his room. When he comes back at the end of the day and you’ve already made a home in his bed. Even in the darkness of the muted color, you brighten the place immediately with your presence. He wouldn’t consider himself a romantic, too realistic and practical in his thoughts to even entertain the idea. But when you give him that tired smile and dig yourself into him when he finally gets under the covers? When you murmur lowly, still half-asleep, about how much you missed him and how warm he feels? Well, he feels like he could write volumes of poetry.

He likes clothes. He adores the way he can express himself through what he wears. Clothes make him feel safe, make him feel like himself. He likes piecing things together that people may not have considered, and end up shocked when they see how well it matches. Clothes make him feel confident. Can completely shift his attitude one way or another. Make or break his entire mood. A good outfit can define his entire day.

He likes seeing you in his clothes. Particularly this one black hoodie he has. It’s oversized, even on him, stretched out from years of use. But goddammit, he just can’t get over how comfortable it is, even after all this time. Can’t bring himself to get rid of it. And seeing you in it? When you leave your fragrance on it for him after having “borrowed” it for a few days? When you send pictures to him, wearing it while he’s away on tour? He thinks it has to be his favorite piece of clothing.

He likes gaming. It’s one of his favorite stress relievers. Being able to come home and hop on a game, not think about anything else besides beating this one goddamn level. Losing himself in the storyline of Assassin's Creed and mindlessly doing quests that he’s done at least five times before. Others may find it repetitive; He can’t begin to count how many times Yunho has given him a funny look for playing the same story again. But he enjoys it all the same.

He likes when you play with him. When you get excited playing FIFA against each other. He pretends to get huffy when you beat him (even though he couldn’t deny the flutter in his heart and the gentle smile playing at his lips while watching you celebrate.) He likes to teach you how to play a new game. He can sit even closer to you and help guide your fingers over the controls. You know exactly what he’s doing, and when you poke at his cheek to call him out, all he has to defend himself is an eye roll, and I just want to make sure it’s an even playing field, love. He didn’t even mind when you simply sat near him to watch him play. He enjoyed your presence, knowing that you simply wanted to just spend time with him. Maybe you were talking to him about the game, or maybe you were talking about your day. Maybe neither of you was talking about anything, the orchestral music of the game filling the air. He didn’t care. He had you.

He likes cooking. It allows him to learn new recipes, and explore different parts of the globe right in his kitchen. He can focus on a recipe, the rest of the world fading away from purview. Similar to his clothes, he likes making the food aesthetically pleasing too. He enjoys the chaos right before the calm of being able to enjoy his creation. He likes how he can mix various items to create a tasteful dish. Being able to say that he created something of his own.

He likes cooking for you. He likes seeing the way your eyes gleam and the wide smile you offer as he sets your favorite food in front of you. And yes, he learned and mastered the perfect recipe for it. His heart pounds in his chest whenever he asks you to try a new dish, awaiting your honest answer. And you do answer honestly, something he appreciates every time.

He likes dancing. It gives him a way to express himself, aside from his clothes. Where words fail, he communicates through movements. He can let his body move on its own accord, responding to the beats and melodies in the songs in its own way. Actions speak louder than words, and when he’s dancing he feels like he can recite his own Shakespearian play to the world.

He likes dancing with you. Being able to put on a record and taking your hand in his, grinning as you bashfully lean into him, allowing him to lead you around the room. He likes to press his face near your ear to hum along to the song, swaying you side to side and gently guiding your feet. He likes hearing you laugh a little at the corniness of it, but melting into his body nonetheless. He even likes dancing for you. When you stay with him at the studio and just watch as he shows you a new routine he’s putting together. And when he finishes he can see the starry look you have in your eyes.

There were times when his feelings felt conflicted. Moments where he had to debate if he actually liked something or if he simply wanted to like it.

One thing was for certain though.

Jung Wooyoung likes you. He likes your patience with him. He likes your smile. He likes the way you make these small faces at something when you were focused on a task. He likes the way you bite at your nail when you get lost in thought. He likes the way your eyebrow quirks when you want to react to something. He likes when you poke his dimples when he smiles at you. He likes that you can effortlessly get him to laugh - really laugh. A laugh that reverberates in his chest. And god, does he like the feeling he gets just being around you. A feeling that warms his whole body, that leaves subtle tingles under his skin.

One thing for certain?

He loves you.

This was written by @/ro-written and is not to be plagiarized, translated, or distributed anywhere else. Copyright Ro-Written 2023.

All comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome!

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#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #ateez jung wooyoung #atz wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung ateez #jung wooyoung fluff

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pedroshotwifey · 11 months ago

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Pickled Peña Challenge 2023

Good Impression

Pairing: Husband!Javier P. x GN!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags/Warnings: Nothing really, fluff, lil bit of angst (silly angst tho), reader and Javi have a dog, Chucho being hella cool, kissing, cussing, vivid descriptions of fried pickles, wifey being actually stupid

Summary: You really wanted to bring something for Chucho's new year's party...

A/N: Hey, y'all! This is my contribution to @goodwithcheese's Pickled Peña Resolutions Writing Challenge! It's kind of stupid but it's what I've got lmao. I can't wait to read everyone else's Peña stories (please feel free to tag me in them)! Unfamiliar with this challenge? Read more about it here! @pickled-pena

*****

“Shit!”

You curse as you watch a pickle slice splat wetly onto the kitchen floor, jumping back to avoid it landing on your bare foot. Max, your golden lab (who was oh-so-creatively named by your husband) is quick to clean it up not a second after it falls.

“Goddammit, Max,” you scold as you watch him scarf it down without shame. “That’s your fifth pickle today.”

Hell, it might be the sixth. You usually aren’t a super messy cook, but it’s a different story when you’re in a time crunch. You need to leave the house in about an hour, and the fried pickles you promised to bring for Chucho’s new year’s party are only half done.

Javier walks in then, chuckling slightly at the interaction he just witnessed. You give him a pointed look before getting back to the task at hand, smothering pickle slices in the flour mixture you had made up.

“Oh, come on now, sweetheart,” Javi says as he walks up behind you to glide his arms around your waist. “Don’t be like that, we have plenty of time.”

You roll your eyes and half-heartedly shove him off of you as you dip the first batch into the oil on the stove.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Javi, I still have to fry every single one of these slices, and then let them dry and cool before we can leave. Plus, I still need to change my clothes, and we have to pick up a gift for Chucho on our way there.”

Javi presses a kiss to the top of your head, humming in response to your explanation.

“I think we’ll be okay. Chucho isn’t going to mind if we’re a little late.”

“I know,” you whine. “But I still hate not being–”

“I promise you, baby. As long as I show up with ‘that pretty partner of mine’, there’s not going to be an issue.” He pinches your hip lightly as he quotes his father’s words from a few days earlier.

You can’t help the faint smile that crawls across your face at that reminder. You had been so worried about Javier’s family not liking you, but it turns out that they adore you just as much as he does, just from what he’s said about you. It’s nice to know you’ll be welcomed so warmly even though they had never met you previously.

The two of you had met in columbia by chance, hooked up, and things spiraled from there. As much as he tried, Javi just couldn’t tear himself away from you. A year later, the two of you were married, and a year after that, you both moved back to Javi’s hometown in Texas, where you’re now, finally, about to meet everyone you had heard so much about.

You had told Javi that it’s your new year’s resolution to make a good impression, but you doubt that’s going to be very hard. You’ve already made a good impression in their book just by marrying the man.

“How about you go ahead and get changed, and I’ll do what I can here?” Javi suggests.

You scoop out your pickles and lay them on a rack to dry before turning around and planting a kiss on Javi’s cheek.

“Thank you, baby. That would help a lot.”

“No problema, mi vida.”

He grabs your wrist to pull you in to press his lips against yours. You smile against him before pulling back and planting a final, light kiss on his lips.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you tell him as you back out of the doorway.

***

It doesn’t take too long for you to get dressed. Javi is just finishing the pickles as you walk back into the kitchen.

“Should be all set,” he says as he wipes his hands down with a paper towel. You lean on your toes to kiss him again.

The two of you have everything cleaned and packed up within another few minutes. You glance at the clock, which tells you that you should be right on time by the time you’re walking out the door. You grab the container of pickles to take with you to the hall table by the front door.

Javi mumbles something from behind you and then walks into your room, patting his pockets as he goes. You almost laugh under your breath at his forgetfulness until you realize you left your keys in the bathroom.

You place the container down and walk down the hall, not noticing how precariously balanced the tub is left. You snatch your keys up at the same time you hear a crash. You gasp at the sound of what can only be a plastic lid breaking off to spill your hard work all over the floor.

Your fears are confirmed as you quickly make your way back to where you left them, only to find Javi hovering over the mess. When looks up and immediately catches your stunned expression, his entire body freezing as he does so.

“Baby,” he starts slowly. I swear it wasn’t–”

“Javier. F. Peña,” you seethe, each name spat out as its own individual sentence. “You did not just knock that down,” you almost dare him to contradict you. There’s absolutely no way for you to make another batch right now. You don’t have the time nor the ingredients.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Javi retorts defensively, holding up his hands as he takes a step toward you. “What makes you so sure that it was me? I thought it was you until I got out here!”

“Me?” you gawk at him, offended. “Unlike some other people I know, I’m not that fucking clumsy!”

“Woah, you stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?”

Just then, Max slinks into the hall, drawing both of your attention to his guilty movements. His tail wags hesitantly behind him, his head ducked. The fact that he’s not all over those damn pickles tells you all that you need to know. You sigh in frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You look back up at Javi, and you can’t miss the glint of amusement in his eye. A smile peaks out as you lean down to Max’s level. You don’t scold him, instead gently grabbing his collar to lead him to your room before shutting the door so you can clean the mess without interruption.

Javi’s already on it, sweeping everything into a dustpan. You lean against the wall as he finishes up.

“Guess we’re going to have to stop by that burger joint in town,” you say, sighing again. Javi watches you, sending you a sympathetic smile. He knows how much you wanted to bring something homemade, how much it meant to have something to offer, no matter how small.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. Maybe next time we can invite Chucho over for dinner next week, make up a big meal for him.”

You smile back at him. He always knows what to say. He walks into the kitchen to dispose of the contents in the dustpan, and you to your room to release Max before rejoining each other in the hall.

“Ready to go, my little chef?”

You roll your eyes at him with feigned annoyance as you take his hand.

“Let’s go, Peña.”

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defectivevillain · 4 months ago

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coffee and cake

pairing: Han Solo/Reader

reader's gender and race are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: You don’t want to make a huge deal about your birthday, so you don’t tell anyone when the day arrives. Unfortunately for you, a certain smuggler figures it out.

word count: 2.3k | ao3 version

warnings: mentions of alcohol & drinking, cursing.

notes: Usually my writing is self-indulgent, but this is next level, y’all. My birthday is today. And I want Han Solo to celebrate with me, goddammit.

The reader likes coffee and gets a birthday cake. Because I like coffee and getting birthday cakes. And again, this is self-indulgent. LOL.

Han may be a little bit out of character…? I like portraying him as a suave person who is secretly sort of awkward and trying to make a good impression in front of the reader. Expect fluff with little to no meaningful plot.

enjoy! <3

Within five minutes of your return to Yavin 4, you’re being accosted by Han Solo, the smuggler-turned-rebel ally. When your eyes find him, you have to wonder what your life would have been like if you had never met him. Things have changed a lot since your first encounter—and Han has been there for you every step of the way. While the two of you were closer to rivals at first, you soon became friends. Now, your relationship lies submerged in a precarious balance between platonic friendship and something more. At least, that’s what you think. You may be overanalyzing things, though. Han has always been a touchy person—a hand on your forearm, an arm around your shoulder, a hug after a successful mission. You never characterized those gestures as anything more than platonic until recently—when a lighthearted jab from another pilot left you contemplating the exact nature of your relationship with Han.

You’re so overtaken with thought that you don’t notice Han sidling up to you until he’s standing close enough for you to nearly trip over him. You barely manage to avoid crashing into him as you take off your helmet and place it near your Starfighter, before looking over at him. “Hey, Han,” you greet him. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got a problem,” he frowns, slinging his arm around your shoulders and leading you through the landing area and down the hall of the base. You glance back at your abandoned Starfighter helplessly, hoping you’ll remember to check back on it later today.

“Where are you taking me?” You feel the need to ask moments later, as Han continues to navigate you through the rebel base with ease.

Han continues leading you through the hall until he promptly stops in his tracks, evidently contemplating your question. “Today’s your birthday,” he says, his brows furrowing.

It takes you a few moments to realize that he’s waiting for a confirmation. “Yes,” you remember to respond.

“You didn’t tell anyone,” Han frowns, looking weirdly offended. You just shrug wordlessly. Han mutters something along the lines of “Unbelievable,” before leading you down the corner and into a room you’ve only been into a few times: the bar. Typically, a rebel base wouldn’t be outfitted with such an unnecessary luxury. But, when morale is low, many Rebel fighters go to the bar to commiserate with friends and remember who they’re fighting for.

Han leads you towards the stools near the bar counter and you take a seat, watching him sit next to you and wink at the bartender. At least, you think you see him wink—it happens so quickly that you have to wonder if you imagined it. The bartender retreats, before returning seconds later with two glasses in hand. They slide them towards you and you murmur a word of gratitude.

“Happy birthday to the best damn pilot in the galaxy,” Han says, turning towards you and lifting his glass. You inspect your glass, pleasantly surprised to find cold brew coffee. You raise a brow at Han, who attempts to look innocent. He doesn’t do a very good job of it, and eventually abandons the pretense to explain himself. “I know you like your coffee.” He says, a nearly imperceptible note of fondness in his exasperated tone. You clink your glass against his, before taking a sip. You don’t think you’re doing the best job of hiding the smile on your face, but thankfully, Han seems too preoccupied with draining his glass—which, upon closer inspection, appears to be a Naboo Sunset.

“Wait, I thought you said you were the best pilot in the galaxy,” you then say jokingly, leveling him with an expectant look.

“Usually, yes,” Han acquiesces, taking a break from drinking to send you a devilish smile. You have to put effort into ignoring the way your heart races at the gesture. He continues, immune to your internal panic. “But not today.” He says, before continuing to drink out of his glass. You watch for a few seconds in surprised silence as he continues to chug his drink.

Eventually, you start to get concerned—as he doesn’t even stop to catch a breath. “Han, slow down-” You try to say. Han freezes and sets the glass back down, many emotions flickering across his face at lightspeed . Then he starts to wince, as if the cold temperature of the drink is settling in his throat uncomfortably. “Why’d you do that?” You ask as you squint at him. You’ve always known Han to be rather reckless, but that strange show seemed out of character.

Something close to regret passes over his face, before it’s replaced with a grimace. Han avoids your gaze for a moment, before meeting your eyes and taking a deep breath. You hold your cold glass, feeling the need to ground yourself in reality. “I wanted to impress you.” He mutters under his breath darkly. You stare at him in disbelief and Han stares right back, realization evidently striking him as he learns that he just spoke his thoughts aloud.

“Anyway,” Han drawls, as if he hadn’t just been vulnerable by accident. You decide to pretend that nothing happened and go along with the subject change. He seems grateful, as he regains his composure and continues to speak. “Any grand plans?”

“Nah,” you say with a shake of your head. “I don’t like making my birthday a big deal.”

“That’s what they’re for,” Han huffs in amusement, crossing his arms over the bar counter. He motions for two waters and the bartender appears moments later, sliding the glasses across the counter. Han tips them before turning back to you, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “Mine’s a holiday. Lasts the whole week.”

“I’m sure it does,” you murmur with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. On second thought, you think you can remember Han’s last birthday. He had waltzed around the base with seemingly infinite energy, proclaiming that he was taking the whole week off. Leia had promptly hit him upside the head. You smile at the memory. “Besides, some of us don’t want the attention.”

“Weird,” Han grins.

“I know you can’t relate,” you scoff sarcastically. Han raises his hands in mock surrender.

“I got you a little something,” Han says a few seconds later, breaking through the surprisingly comfortable silence that clung to the air. The bartender walks over and places a plate in front of you, before walking away. You look down to find silverware next to a small birthday cake. The cake is modest and perfectly sized. You feel a smile threatening to overtake your lips.

“Aw, it’s so cute,” you say, looking over to Han. “Thanks.” You stare down at it, knowing you won’t be able to eat all of it. “Want to split it?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Han grins wickedly. You try to give him the knife, but he insists that the person with the birthday has to cut it. You cut the cake in half and dole it out onto conveniently situated plates. When you take a bite, you’re unsurprised to find that the cake is really good. You say as much to Han, who nods in agreement before a sheepish smile overtakes his face. “I baked it myself,” he admits. You scrutinize the look on his face for a moment.

“No, you didn’t,” you then huff.

“No, I didn’t,” Han agrees with a chuckle, seemingly impressed with your deduction. “Can’t bake for shit. How’d you know?”

“I just know you,” you shrug. You don’t realize the significance of that statement until a few seconds later. Han isn’t staring at you with scrutiny, though, so you think you’re fine. Besides, it’s your birthday—you shouldn’t be overthinking such small things.

“Do you?” Han hums goodnaturedly. “If you know me so well, then what am I going to say next?” He challenges you.

“‘Happy birthday,’” you guess. It’s a pretty pathetic guess, but you honestly have no idea where he’s going with this.

“I was going to say… that I’m really glad we became friends.” Han corrects you. Suddenly his infinitely comfortable and composed persona seems to fade away, and you notice traces of doubt and uncertainty. Han shifts in his seat; his fingers steadily drum against the counter.

“You sure?” You say with an awkward laugh that feels forced. Your heart is thundering in your chest as you try to stifle your hopes. You must be misinterpreting things. “That doesn’t sound like you.” You joke weakly, taking another bite of cake in an attempt to get yourself to stop talking.

“I’m serious,” Han says with a frown that looks exaggerated. You don’t think you’ve seen him look frustrated like this before. “Listen. I… care about you. A lot.” You blink at him in stunned silence. “Leia’s been giving me kark about it for months.” Han is holding his glass on the counter and staring down into it as he speaks—as if he’s searching its depths. He seems weirdly uncomfortable with eye contact now. “Telling me to confess and everything. I didn’t want to do this on your birthday, but it’s been hard to keep it a secret-” He trails off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow looming in the doorway and flinch hard. Stumbling in surprise, you just barely avoid a collision with the bar counter thanks to Han’s quick reflexes. His hands bracket your waist briefly and his eyes dance with amusement. For a moment, you swear he’s leaning closer to you. Just as you notice, however, the expression on his face promptly fades and morphs into confusion. You glance at the doorway again, only to find Chewbacca. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken with the Wookiee, since you don’t know how Shyriiwook. You decide to send him a quick wave anyway, and Chewbacca lets out a short howl.

“Chewie?” Han asks, placing a hand on his chest, “You scared the kriff out of us.” Chewie growls in Shyriiwook; all you can comprehend is the exasperated expression on his face and the way his gaze flits between Han and you.

“What’s he saying?” You decide to ask Han. An interesting expression passes over Han’s face—one surprisingly close to embarrassment. It’s an uncharacteristic look for the typically suave smuggler. You find that you like it. After all, Han’s displays of vulnerability are quite rare. In fact, the only times you think you’ve seen him abandon his uncaring mask were when you got hurt on missions or when complications arose in battle. You promptly file that thought away, promising to consider it at a later date.

“Nothing,” Han answers with a shake of his head, drawing you from your thoughts. “Come on, Chewie. I’m kind of in the middle of something.” He looks pleadingly at the Wookiee, who almost seems to smile smugly before departing. Han watches him leave, shaking his head before returning his attention to you. “Now, where were we…?” He asks, before sighing in evident resignation. “Right, my feelings.”

“I feel like such a kriffing idiot in front of you. I’ve never felt so damn self-conscious—picking my every action apart and overthinking all of it… And I’ve never had such strong feelings about someone before.”

“I think that covers it,” Han says, placing his hands on the counter and pushing himself to his feet. It suddenly seems like he’s in a rush to leave, as he pays you one last glance. “Happy birthday.” He looks torn and troubled, before he forces a smile and makes for the door.

“Han,” you interject, leaving your seat and standing near him. Han freezes mid-departure, turning around to face you. “You didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“I don’t need to hear you reject me.” He mutters, glancing over your shoulder as if looking for an excuse to end the conversation. Unfortunately for him, you’re stubborn and persistent.

“Han,” you say, drawing his attention back to you. Han shoves his hands in his pockets,a restlessness evident in his posture. “I have feelings for you too.” You finally admit. And somehow, you feel lighter after the confession. You hadn’t realized how heavily it weighed on your mind—how many nights you spent staring up at the ceiling and wishing you could do things differently.

“You hated me,” Han recalls, evidently thinking back to your first few encounters. You were kind of prickly with him, but his reputation had preceded him and you didn’t want to become friends with someone who didn’t take their job seriously.

“I didn’t even know you,” you explain, the memories flickering before your eyes. “I thought you were just a playboy. But then I got to know you and realized that wasn’t true. You’re compassionate, clever, handsome…”

“Handsome?” Han interjects.

“Surely you’ve heard that before,” you say.

“Not from you,” he responds, as if that makes a big difference. For an immeasurable amount of time, there’s nothing but silence as the two of you stand frozen in place.

You’re not sure who breaks the distance between you first. All you know is that you stare at each other for a long moment and something clicks. You practically crash into each other in your haste; Han’s lips meet yours and his hands return to your waist in a fluid, easy movement—as if they always belonged there. You bring a hand up to his cheek, slowly exploring the side of his face and stretching down to the nape of his neck.

“Happy birthday,” Han says when you break apart, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks,” you respond breathlessly.

“Just so you know,” Han starts, a mischievous smile growing on his face, “I’m expecting a lot of fanfare on my birthday.”

“You realize it’s still my birthday,” you feel the need to remind him.

“I thought you didn’t want it to be a big deal,” he remarks cheekily.

You roll your eyes and pull him closer for another kiss.

thanks for reading! <3

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thatbanditqueen · 2 years ago

Text

No One Walks Out Chapter 2

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 2: Sweet Baby

Summary: Elvis convinces Becky to come out with him and she gets to know him better. Angst and smut and fluff and smut and angst ... historical inaccuracies.... for instance, I know Larry only did hair but he does make-up in this fic for narrative agility.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, cunnilingus, gratuitous chest nuzzling, sex, cursing, drug use and alcohol, some mild weird mind games and jealousy, a toe suck if you don't blink.

Sorry about the typos I've been agonizing over this since I finished it Friday,not totally happy with how it is but it was fun to write...

Words: 14K

Catch up on Chapter One here

There will be a chapter three, but for the love of big daddy please like, reblog, comment, share with your maiden aunt if you enjoy this fic.

This is playlist of music from 1970 - 1975 that I've been listening to get into the time period because I'm a huge dork.

Monday, June 9,th 1975, Jackson, Mississippi

Approximately 6:10 pm

About ten minutes since we begin in Chapter 1….

You glared at Elvis over folded arms, resolve hanging on by a thread, tempted to give in and go with him, but also, stuck. The heat of irrational anger and competition burned your chest. You weren’t even sure what this contest of wills was about, but you didn’t want to loose. You looked up at the ceiling, the fluorescent light flickered, and you wicked the sweat off your arms, vaguely aware you hadn’t slept, you hadn’t showered, and you hadn’t eaten much in the last 24 hours. A notion poked you at the edge of your consciousness that these factors had probably impaired your judgement, and maybe you weren’t making good decisions. This was, of course, true. All rational thought had been derailed by a night spent drinking, smoking pot and fucking Elvis Presley. Who, unlike you, hadn’t skipped sleep in order to rush home, get a kid to school and then go to work. No, Elvis had spent his day in rock star land where he could sleep as long as he wanted, eat breakfast at 3 or 4 pm and enjoy a leisurely shower. God he smelled amazing.

You, well, you had started to smell worse and worse and worst as the day wore on. There was no way you were going anywhere that involved getting naked with him. No. Last night had been the best night of your life, but you know how this ends, rock stars don’t date single moms who manage hardware stores. They date beauty queens and movie stars, usually all at once. Where could this possibly go? Just be done with him, rip the band aid off now. Stand your ground. What was he going to do, throw you over his shoulder and carry you off into the night? You looked back over. Elvis was leaning into the doorjamb, his hands resting on the front of his hips, under the slight rotund swell of his belly, fingers spread wide over the sides of his belt. Eyes closed behind tinted sunglasses, you watching his adam’s apple bob up and down as he breathed steadily and stifled rage transformed into an eerie zen demeanor.

A minute ago he had hurled a torrent of swear words your way, it had been terrifying, yet, strangely arousing. You pushed the giddy tingle at the center of your hips down, thinking what the fuck is wrong with you? The guttural grain of Elvis’ “goddammit” had gone straight from his tongue to your clit, igniting a fire that simmered in your belly. You had never seen such intense masculine emotion. Almost all the men in your life had been tight lipped and stern, yet very passive aggressive when angry. Not Elvis. He was a walking hurricane, unpredictable, impulsive, volatile. It was exciting and terrifying. However, right now, he was completely calm, seemingly meditating and quietly whispering to himself. Someone walking in would never know he had been screaming at you and punching the door frame moments ago. He turned to look at you, opening his eyes. They were dark, piercing, almost a purplish black through the lavender sunglasses. You could feel the air leave his throat as you watched him exhale again, and moved in your direction. The hair on your back stood straight up and you squeezed your arms tighter against your chest. Elvis’ tall frame hovered above you, his gut pressing into you with each inhale, his breath filling the space between you with warmth. Elvis’ entire body oppressively overwhelmed you. The cold metal of his rings caressed your cheek and his voice was now calm and low, yet commanding.

“You don’t know me very well.” He sighed into your neck. “Tell me I cain’t do somethin’, an’ well, honey … that just 'bout guarantees I’m gonna do it….” His lips moved closer to your left ear, he leaned on one hand against the wall next to your head, the other pulled your arms slowly away from your chest. Heat sizzled at the base of your spine as you looked down, his fingers grasped your hand tenderly.

“I can tell you ain’t never been with a real man before…. A man who treated you good …” then he whispered, “took care a’ his baby…. if you know what I mean?” He waggled his eye brows, while his fingers traced along your jaw, then down over your breast to your tummy and hips. “Took care ‘a you so good, you always came when he called.”

His lips moved closer to your left ear as he spoke, a feverish heat tingling through your lobe, a crooked smirk raised the left side of his mouth. You say nothing, but your breath hitches in your throat as he pushes even closer, his lips almost on your neck, and you shake your head, looking down. Don’t cry you tell yourself, but you exhale with a loud, stilted tremble.

“Shhh, shhhh s’ok honey,” Elvis' left hand moves from gently rubbing your hip to trail up and down your side. ”Cuz I’m gonna show you what s’like to be with a real man.” He leaned closer, kissing the nape of your neck, his soft lips searing into the spot below your ear. “I always take care a my girl.” You gasped as the warmth from each word hit your neck as he continued.

“I see you. I’m a seer…and I see ya, Becky, I see you. Underneath all this stubborn bitch crock of shit you putting up, you’re just a scared lil' girl… scared of being hurt, scared of being happy, scared of how good it was with me last night.” He paused, breathing deeply through his nose, and you looked down, shaking you head, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up into his dark purple eyes and the promise you saw in them to over power you, to break you, to own you completely.

“S’ok… Cuz I’m gonna fuck ya so good, the only words you’re gonna know to say when I’m done with you are ‘yes daddy.’” Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes remain locked on Elvis, trying to summon contempt and indifference, even as the spark in your core blooms up your chest. Elvis’ fingers work their way under your shirt, gently soothing you across your belly, and up over your bra before resting on top of your chest. A whimper escapes your mouth, and you look up, your voice cracking as you feel your resolve melting away.

“Elvis… I can’t….”

“Shhh… see, that’s the fear I’m talking’ bout right there… “

He leaned in and nuzzled the side of your cheek with his nose, gently rubbing up your jawline, his right hand over your heart, his left moving down to stroke your side.

“Shhhhh little girl…. Shhhh…. I ain’t gonna hurt ya …”

“It’s not that..” You whisper, your eyes averting his. “It’s just… I’m a mess… I haven’t showered, or ate much, or slept… I’m so exhausted… you deserve a proper date … you should be picking up a beauty queen or a play boy bunny…”

You felt the vibrations through his tummy, pressed further into you, as Elvis chuckled.

“Why, do y’all even have any of ‘em bunnies here in Jackson?” He stepped back, motioning to leave. Another chuckle, and he was flourishing a silk paisley handkerchief from his breast pocket, holding your chin up as he wiped your eyes and your forehead. The apples in his cheek formed as he matched your reluctant grin.

“Go on baby, stick out your tongue.”

You furrowed your brow, twitching your mouth, as he reached in to his pocket.

“Stop a twitchin’, for the love of Jesus. Les try one of those ‘yes daddys’ I was talking ‘bout…”

You scoffed. “I will never say that, specially to someone who tells me to…”

He looked down at an assortment of pills in his hand, and pulled out a single, small white capsule, grinning.

“We’ll see ‘bout that… mean time, just stick out yer tongue, woman!”

With a humpf, you acquiesced, and Elvis dropped the pill on your tongue, pushing it back in your mouth.

“Trust me, you’re gonna feel better in a few minutes… s’like caffeine, but a lil' stronger. ”

Swallowing, you look into his eyes. “What was that, speed?”

“Do I look like a drug dealin’ commie? I’m a federal drug enforcement agent.” You cracked a grin, and his eyes grew serious. “That’s the god’s honest truth. This stuff is jus ‘scription medicine, a diet pill. S'not strong, ain’t gonna get you high. Trust me, I’ve studied this stuff... I’m a trained healer - told you last night….”

“Ok… but I’m still a mess…”

“You’re not a complete mess. Goddamn, check out this fine lookin’ belt. Man, that’s really sumpthin'.” He grinned, amusement in his voice as his hands slowly pulled off your orange work vest from the top of your shoulders, then moved to the buckle of your belt. His belt. The belt you took as a souvenir back when this was just a one night stand. Elvis soft mouth was on your neck again, and your arms somehow found their way over his shoulders. Just as he moved his mouth from your neck to lean in and kiss you, you hesitated and pulled back.

“I - I …. I don’t know if —“

His finger moved up from their efforts to unhook your jeans.

“Hush now… no more guff. I’m here because something happened last night. I know you felt it. S’like we’re vibrating on the same frequency….”

“Elvis, you’re crazy…”

“No, now listen… I … my bed felt so cold when I woke up and you were gone… I’ve been missin' ya all damn day… wasn’t gonna be able to do anything else til I found ya…”

His timbre was high pitched, and you heard it crack with vulnerability. His eyes filled with unabashed desire. Somehow in the last few minutes, Elvis’ temperament had gone from indignant swagger to sweet and needy. His right hand moved lower to fondle your left breast, his soft lips kissed your ear, and you tilted your head into him. It was freeing in away, to give up pretenses, and you let out a sob, releasing all the tension you were holding in. Elvis moved his hand from under your bosom and kissed your tears away. His face was framed by the soft, plush rounds of his double chin, and you leaned your forehead into them seeking out the warm comfort of his flesh. You would be happy to sink farther and farther into him and loose yourself in his snug, inviting body.

“Shhhh … s’ok…” Elvis’ arms encircled you, and you buried yourself head forward into his neck, collapsing on his shoulder. His hips thrust forward into you, the swell of his belly smushed up into your breasts. Steady and strong, his hands smoothed you over your back, his mantra of murmured shsshhhhs continuing as he cheekily pulled the hem of your shirt over your head. You helped him, shaking the last sleeve off your arm impatiently and throwing it on the ground.

His lips were now on yours, gently kissing you, then bringing your head towards him, his tongue sliding into your mouth, sweeping over yours, daring you to push back, to resist it. Your hands gripped him at his neck, drawing him down further into your mouth, his finger fervently grabbed your hips and lifted you up, cupping your ass and you wrapped your legs around him.

You felt him grunt and heave slightly as he carried you to the desk at the back corner of the room, his eyes unyielding, locked on yours, anchored by stormy dilated pupils.

“Gawd darlin’…I’m getting to oooooold to sweep lil’ girls like you off your feet.”

“Next time I’ll sweep you off your feet.”

“Honey, they’d be sweeping us both off the floor if you tried ta carry me across a room….” He grinned a breathy grin as he put you down.

Your bra was on the floor, followed by his jacket, and you squinted for a moment at the gun tucked into his waist. He smirked as he took it out and threw it on top of his jacket.

“There are three more, baby, wanna try to find them?”

Your breasts heave up as a guffaw slipped over your lips, but you forgot about his guns as Elvis pulled down your jeans, slowing to gently take your shoes off. He brought your left foot up to his cheek, nuzzling against your warm, soft skin, kissing the top of your arch, then following suit to take off the other one, reverently, slowly, removing the sock and then stroking the top of both feet as he looked forward into the center of your black cotton panties. You squirmed, suddenly self conscious and he bit his lower lip, hungry eyes meeting yours as his hands moved up your ankles towards your thighs. You shivered when the top of his index fingers delicately traced a line over your knees, clenching as he grasped the sides of your panties. Your hand went to Elvis’ shoulder.

“Hey… wait… why are you doing this? ”

“Figure I wanna do as much of this ‘fore I get too old,” he murmured, grinning up at you.

You smiled back, tousling his hair, exhaling.

“That’s not what I meant …. I meant …. like….… you can just, ya know, I mean we can just…you don’t really have to worry ‘bout, you know, doing this for me.”

You pulled on his collar, but Elvis resisted, swiping your hands away and slapping your hip, an expression of delight on his face as he watched your side ripple in response. He pulled off your panties, leaning closer to your muff while looking up at you.

“Listen good, this is the last time I’m gonna ‘splain this. I’m a grown man, I don’t do anything I don’t want to. Now, lean back… and jus remember to breathe.“ He winked, a silly grin growing as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, kissing the hair at your entrance before parting you with his mouth and pushing in, tongue first.

The vibrations of Elvis deep moan reverberated through your pussy, his shoulders heaved up and his whole body moved in rhythm, slowly licking you from your taint to your clit, savoring your soft, slick silkiness.

He paused, sitting back to remove his glasses, murmuring to himself as his thumb worked in circles around your nub and you found yourself moaning out, uncontrollably.

“You need to get me some windshield wipers for those…” he looked at you, clearly amused with himself as you giggled. “We coulda been back in my hotel room doin' this if you weren’t so difficult…. never met a more stubborn woman… “

You moan, looking off to the side, as he rounded the bend of your clit, then lowered his fingers, flicking his wrist to slowly push his right index finger inside of you.

“This ok, baby?”

You nodded, you neck arched back as you cried out. Elvis was touching you in a way no other man had ever touched you, had ever wanted to or cared to try.

“Want me ta keep going?

You nodded your head, breathy whimpers stuttering out.

“Know what I wanna hear…”

“Yes…… Elvis….” You smirked.

“So goddamn stubborn…” he shook his head, leaning backing into your hips, his mouth consuming your pussy, his tongue now stroked you softly and each flick made you shiver with a tingle. A burning fire coiled behind your belly as he moved his index finger in and out in time with the bob of his head, groaning into you. The sensation became almost too intense and your head thrust back, eyes looking up at the ceiling. Shifting your weight onto your wrists, you begin to move your hips forward to meet his mouth, surging to chase the tension building in your core as Elvis’ lapped and then sucked your clit, index finger rotating slowly within you. You found his finger somewhat distracting, and were just about to ask him to stop, when he hit a spongey nerve point inside you and your hips jerked back. You feel Elvis chuckle as he pulled up for air, his left hand holding up your hips to bring you back closer while he crooked his finger inside you. Each time the pad of his finger hit that spot you twitched.

“What is that? Ahhhh! Ughhh…” you cry out, your breath heavy because the sensation is so intense, it terrifies you. Elvis wipes his mouth on your thigh, his thumb is back at it, and he seems to delight in every twitch of your belly as you clench around his finger.

“That… that’s the magic spot, lil' girl… Can’t believe I’m the first one to find it…” his eyes found yours, and he swallowed, deeply. “Goddamn. You’re blushing like a nun…”

You cannot take your eyes off him, even as his finger flexes and crooks into you and your mouth flinches open with a loud, insuppressible, high-pitched moan.

“Hff, baby….you look like a scared kitten staring down the mouth of a gator…. ‘fraid he’ll snap ya right up…” he gnashed his teeth together loudly, for effect, exhaling deeply with another chuckle, before returning to lap at your clit, dragging his tongue slowly over it, up it and down it, and then all the way around it.

Your thighs quiver on his cheeks and you let out another squeak, embarrassed. The feeling of impending eruption terrifies you, and another powerful moan emerges unsummoned through your lips, half from pleasure, half from fear. You’re torn between your drive to climax and the almost unbearable sensation his tongue is beckoning from you. The dexedrine begins to take effect, and a wave of energy pulses through you. Every sensation is suddenly ten times more intense. A volcano erupting, your orgasm bursts forth and shocks you as you thrash into Elvis’ nose, crying out while the euphoria sweeps over your body.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD, oh my god…” He leans back, watching with a coy smirk as he thumbs you through it, wiping his mouth again on his right sleeve this time, his left hand holds you steady at your hips.

“Elvis stop, stop! I can’t take it any more.”

“Ok honey, s’ok, now,” he beamed, slowing the flick of his wrist, gently drawing out his index finger. “Man, twitching and clenchin’ so hard thought I might lose my damn finger in there… think I’ll call you Twitch for short. ”

You let out a loud snort, slapping the side of Elvis’ head playfully as he smirks up at you, leaning back on his haunches, now wiping himself on his pants.

“You make my …. my … my nether regions sound dangerous …”

Elvis’ right hand smoothes your pubic hair down.

“Nah, nothing I can’t handle, baby…. just needs to be tamed is all…” he winked.

“So, come tame me…” you offer, laying further back on the desk top, caressing the side of his face with your left toes. He brings them to his mouth, slowly sucking on the big toe and you moan out, not expecting how delicious the soft, wet suction would feel. You can see the bulge of his cock shadowing his thigh as he pulls his mouth off your toe with a pop.

“Oh Jesus, take me to heaven now cuz I really am getting too old for this.” Elvis grunts, pulling on the desk to stand up.

He brushes off his knees, then shifts between your legs, and your hands pull him down by his collar to kiss your lips, not sure how you feel tasting the salty tang of yourself there. You think maybe you like it. Feeling your way to his belt, you begin to pull it apart as you kiss him back, but his right hand moves to firmly stop you.

“Dontcha want to fuck me, daddy?” Fuck, what made you say that? You chided yourself, you hated how happy it made him as you watched his grin grow wide. He shook his head, taking your hand and kissing the top.

“Honey, I didn’t come here to fuck you in some dirty, dingy store room… I came here to invite ya to supper ‘after my show, which I might miss on account of you being a spoiled, no count brat…. so we better pop to it.” He looked you in the eyes as your smile faded and self-conscious guilt swept over you. He pulled you in tight and pressed his forehead against yours. Your noses touched, and his breath was warm and comforting.

“C’mon sugar, course I wanna fuck you, fuck you so silly all ‘a Jackson can hear you call out my name.” He chuckled. “But… this is not exactly the romantic setting I like to make love in…. know what I mean? Let’s get back to my place, get you all fed and cleaned up.” He bent down and handed you your underwear and pants. “Want you down in front at the show. Imma have Joe run out and grab you a proper dress….” Now he was handing you your bra, then your shirt. “But we better scoot, I go on at 8:30.”

He looked over at the clock, and you followed his gaze, it was 6:35.

You turned, buttoning your jeans.

“Not Joe…..”

Eyebrows tensed, Elvis’s eyes were sharp as he looked up from tucking his gun back into his waist.

“What you got against ol' Diamond Joe?”

“I… ugh… let’s say we didn’t hit it off exactly, last night…. “

Elvis pulled you in front of him, and then took a step back, grabbing a comb from inside his coat, then brushing your hair, clucking his tongue when your hair flipped back the wrong way. Content after fixing your part, he tucked the sides behind your ears.

“That’s better… looks good down, jus like that….” He bit his tongue in apt concentration. Comb in pocket, he put his arm around you, and led you out of the room, down the hall and towards the front of the store.

“Wanna wash your hands?”

Elvis stops, and takes his right hand off you, then brings his index and middle finger up to his lips.

“What, this hand baby?” He sucks on his fingers, his eyes dancing. “Not ever gonna wash this hand again.” He chuckles as you swat him and his hand returns to your side, continuing to walk you to the front of the store.

“So why didn’t you and Joe, uh,… ‘hit it off’?”

You pause, then look up as Elvis walks you into the store front.

“Yeah, well…. he couldn’t take a hint and was kinda being … pushy… last night …. right before you started lobbing pretzels at me … He told you my name was Rachel, cuz that’s what I told him…. I don’t know, I guess didn’t want him to know my real name … I…”

“Huh… I see… alright, honey, don’t worry about Joe… I’ll take care a him.”

You paused outside, locking the front door before pulling it shut, and then gasped when you saw the long, black car in front of the store with three guys waiting in it. How long had they been there, an hour? A large man sat at the wheel, another skinny one next to him, and then there was Joe frowning in the back seat. He looked out the window after making eye contact with you. Elvis opened the back door, and barked at Joe to jump in front, motioning for you to get in.

“C’mon Becky," Elvis helped you.

“Becky?” Joe asks, turning as the car takes off.

“Yeah, well it’s Rachel to creeps who can’t take a hint, but it’s Becky to every’un else.” Elvis barked at Joe, who started to turn. “I don’t want ta hear it, Joe, just keep your head forward an do as yer told,” Elvis said, palming a few pills out of his pocket and swallowing them dry. Joe huffed and hit his hand on the door.

The younger man in the middle seat turned, and shook your hand.

“Hey Becky, I’m Jerry.” Then he looked at Elvis. “What took you so long?”

You blush and look down.

Elvis smirked. “Yeah, sorry to keep ya fellows waiting, decided to have a snack.”

Jerry��s eye brows bent in confusion.

“I thought it was a hardware stor—-“ The driver jabbed Jerry in the ribs and he grimaced, turning back around.

“Yeah, s’its a hardware store alright, but they have a bunch of peanuts, pretzels, jerky… what was that honey? Cold beaver ya got out for me in that ice chest in the back? Tasted pretty good once we warmed it up.” Elvis put his right arm around you, chortling as your cheeks turned bright red and you buried your head in his shoulder. “I’m sorry baby, these guys have been working for me for over fifteen years, ain’t nothin' to be embarrassed about…”

Somehow, the idea that Elvis might make his entourage wait around regularly while he was off fucking random women didn’t make you feel any better. Groaning the groan of someone who suddenly feels like a cheap, anonymous, whore, you leaned into Elvis’ armpit, and he responded by patting your back. You react to his tender rub and chortle by slapping his belly. He laughed harder, and pulled out a cigar from his breast pocket, lighting it up and humming as he rolled down the window.

“Hey, Lamar, what’s that department store downtown Jackson? The good ‘un we went to back in May?”

“Kennington’s.” The driver in front responded, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Jerrah, you’re gonna go run in and get Becky here a few dress options, Lamar’ll come back for you after he takes us to the hotel.”

Joe let out a loud sigh.

“That a problem for you, Joe?”

Joe shook his head. “Have better luck for her at the Dress Barn, they ain’t gonna have her size at that place, nothing over a 10… she’s a 14 if she’s a day…”

You shifted, sinking further into the seat and blushing again.

Elvis hit him in the back of the head.

“Lamar, pull the goddamn car over.” Elvis gritted his teeth as the vehicle came to a stop. “GET OUT! Dammit, Joe, must have lost yer damn mind… if ya can’t be polite to my guests, you can walk yer happy ass back to the hotel.” Joe scoffed and looked over at Jerry in disbelief. “Don’t look at him, ya can file your complaints wit me. Rude mother fucker, I swear… forgettin’ your manners. Forgettin’ who the boss is ‘round here.” Elvis slapped Joe on the side of his head again, and Joe swore under his breath as he jumped out of the car and slammed the door.

“Right.” Elvis murmured as the car drove off again. “Where were we? Oh right, let’s drop Jerrah at that store. You know what kind of dresses would look good on her, right Milk?” Jerry turned around, looking you up and down. “Now, go ahead sweetheart, tell him your dress size, and shoes too… Jerrah, write this down.”

You look Jerry in the eyes. “Um…. dress size is a 12… 9 in shoes…”

Jerry smiled at you, writing it in a small notepad, and hopping out as Lamar drove up to the curb at Kennington’s, yelling at Jerry, “The hotel’s just a few blocks away, I’ll be right back.”

———————————

Lamar flashed a broad smile at you as he helped you out of the car, and walked you and Elvis to the service elevator, opening doors and smiling at the staff you passed coming in through the back of the hotel. You ran your hand through your hair on the ride up to the pent house, imagining Joe walking backing in the summer heat cursing your name with each step. Great. Noticing your far off look, Elvis squeezed you into to him, bringing your other fingers up to his mouth to kiss them.

“Nice fingers… that’s a French manicure, so you can’t be a mess all the time.” Your face softened as you look up at Elvis’ profile, flapping his left cheek with your fingers.

“Well, unlike some people, I usually don’t spend my nights awake at rock concerts followed by one nights stands. Getting my nails done, it's one the few things I do just for me. You’re welcome to admire them all you want, but…. they’re not for you.”

Elvis chuckled, lowering his arm from your shoulder to slap your ass as you get off the elevator, and you turn towards him, mock hurt through a smile as you walk backwards.

“There’s that back talk again, thought I knocked that outta ya…” he smirked, licking his lips.

“Ha! Never! You may have temporarily dazed me, but no man will ever tame me!” you announce, and shriek as Elvis raises an eyebrow and steps toward you.

“Oh, we’ll see ‘bout that…” he calls out, and you giggle, shrieking as you turn to run down the hallway, rounding the corner past the hallway you made out in last night and towards the pent house door. You can feel the thud of Elvis jogging behind you echo through the entire passage way. You sigh out as you get to the door and realize you are stuck, you don’t have the key, and you squeal out as you feel strong, hefty hands grab you at the waist and turn you around.

“Gotcha!” He smiles, panting. “Man, what’s with you… this ain’t the Kentucky Derby baby… that’s the fastest I’ve run since I was in the army… back in 19… 19… 1916…”

You laugh out a “Ha, ha ha!” then feel his chest heave as he lifts you over his shoulder and starts to spank your bottom lightly. “Just you wait til I get you inside!” You slap him on his back, yelling out “Put me down you big brute,” through playful gasps and giggles. His fingers fondle your butt and thighs as he walks into the hotel room, and they glide over your backside as he helps you slid off his shoulder.

“You are a thick girl, aintcha?” He draws you into him, and you respond slapping the top of his belly.

“Ha, I’m ‘bout average… you should talk, you’re thicker than I am …” The laughter in your voice stops as you notice Elvis’s smile tighten and fade, his belly tenses up. You notice the hurt in his eyes, instantly shifting to sooth his chest. “The unfair thing is, though, men just get sexier the thicker they get.” Elvis’ eyes warmed as you played with his collar, talking into his chest.

“Huh, that right? Well you should know honey, this layer right here,” Elvis patted the paunch protruding at his abdomen. “S’just an extra layer I keep around on purpose, as protection, it’s my bullet proof padding… really, that’s the truth.” His grin returned.

“Mmmhmmm… I feel safer already…” you bent your chin into the opening of his shirt, nuzzling his warm chest hair. “I know I’m thick, the opposite of the pretty women you usually date… Joe warned me last night, I’m not your type…”

Elvis grabbed your hips, kissing the top of your head.

“Well honey,” he laid another kiss on your hair, “ya ain’t particularly nice,” another kiss, “ya don’t have particularly good manners… or any for that matter…” his finger traced along your neck to your collarbone. “Sneakin’ out of a man’s bed room without sayin' good bye, like a thief in the night…” you felt his fingers turning your chin up to him. “An' I do like it when my dates show up already dressed nice, wid their hair an' make-up already all done up…” he was trying to play it straight, but he couldn’t stop himself from breathing out a faint giggle through his nose. “But trust this, Joe don’t know shit, and he don’t tell me what to do or who to screw.”

Elvis’ other hand stroked the side of your body with the back of his knuckles, the cool of his rings following as they trailed up from the top of your hip to the flap of flesh at your bra, where his knuckles lingered, tenderly rubbing that spot back and forth. Your heartbeat quickened, there was that lightening bolt rising up your spine. Elvis whistled out and you feel him stiffen against you. “Hell, you might be the most ornery, stubborn lil' girl here in Jackson… but there’s something about you - God put you in my life for a reason - the lord works in mysterious ways. ”

“Like, through your dong?” you smirked, your hand moved down his chest to brush over his inner thigh, his hard, extended length spasmed under your touch.

Elvis guffawed, then groaned.

“Sometimes… yes. Course. Lil Elvis is an implement of the lord, baby, just like the rest of me.” He looked pretty amused with himself, a humorous lilt intoned his words, and his voice rose up in jest like a preacher. “Wouldn’t feel so good if we weren’t supposed to use it…”

You quirk your eyebrow. “That’s a bunch of bullshit… God does NOT care about your hard ons… ”

“Oh ye of little faith. How would you know, anyhow? He sent you to me, didn’t he? And suddenly I’m in hard-on town! Honey t’weren’t no accident. Everything happens for a reason. I really believe that. He brought you to my room last night for a reason, you caught my eye for a reason. There are bigger machinations at play that you and I can’t even begin to understand…”

“So I’m just a pawn in some celestial sort of plan to help you to get your mojo back?”

Elvis’ hand left your arm pit and moved to slap your butt, then pulled you closer.

“Now woman, see here, my mojo is just fine. It’s just... selective… You always have a smart retort, dontcha.”

You nodded up at him. “I mean, I have a brain and I know how to talk, if that’s whatcha mean.”

He pulled you even closer, clutching you from your back.

“Know what I think?” He asked, and you raised your eyebrows, stroking his sideburns. “You talk too much.”

You huffed and pulled on his collar.

“So you want me to shut up and just be, what, some sort of snake charmer, huh? Doin’ the lord’s work to bring your python out?”

“Huh,” he grinned, his hands now pulling on the cushiony curves at your hips. “By George, I think you finally got it. Now come-a here and be quiet.” He leaned forward, you felt the softness of his mouth on yours, your upper lip caught between his, and his nose crushed into your cheek. Elvis’ fingers grip your sides as he mumbles low. “You’re not bad looking when you hush up…. Not bad feeling’ neither... s’nice to have somethin’ to hold onto…”

Elvis was just beginning to pull your shirt up when you hear a cough behind you, and look over Elvis’ jacket to see Charlie jump up off the couch, rubbing the back of his head anxiously. Charlie must have been sitting there the whole time. Elvis’ arms dropped to his sides, and he spun around.

“Charlie, goddamn it boy,” he laughed. “Why didn’t you make yourself known, huh?”

“Well, EP… I … I …”

Elvis mocked him, “I ….? I…? I what? ‘I’m a big ol’ pervert?’” He sad the last part in a high falsetto voice. “Go on, git outta here.”

“Yeah, sure thing, boss.. ummm… it’s just that its 6:45…. probably head out to the Coliseum in an hour… wanted to check in with you ‘bout —"

Elvis held his hand up to Charlie to stop him, and grabbed you by the hand, walking you through the suite, into the master bedroom and over to the bathroom. “There’s the shower, Twitch —“

“Twitch?”

“Yeah, member? That’s my new nickname for ya… cuz you twitch so much, and so prettily too….”

You groan and put your face in your hands.

“Oh god…that’s why I never feel comfortable letting men do that…”

“Honey, you didn’t let me do nothin'… I do what I want….sides, nothing more natural, nor more beautiful…”

“Ughh..”

Elvis took your hands from you face, and kissed you.

“I wish you didn’t blush so hard, might make me tease you less….” He stroked your cheek. “We better put the breaks on for now. Gotta get me to the show on time. Go take yerself a cold shower an’ get all scrubbed up…”

You bobbed your head in assent, turning to walk to the shower. Elvis hung on the door frame watching you undress, winking as you look back at him over your shoulder and blowing you a kiss before he closed the door. The top of your head tingled, you felt wide awake, probably the pill Elvis gave you, but your forehead ached and the back of your eyes throbbed as if they were pushing up into your skull. The hot water soothed you and your muscles relaxed as you exhaled into the steam. You started to feel human again, washing the grime and sweat and sex from the last 24 hours off. You heard the bathroom door open, the last of the soap swirling down the drain as you finished rinsing out your hair, and you peeked through the glass door to see Elvis back, an approving smile on his face and a towel in his hands. You step out and his smile widened.

“Just how I like ya, naked and quiet.”

You reach for the towel but he shakes his finger and starts to dry you off, beginning with your breasts.

“Maybe you should go find a foxy mute to date… hmmm?”

“Now there’s an idea, ya know any?” The towel moved to your shoulders, and Elvis spins you around, gently rubbing the terrycloth over your back, bottom and legs. Then he spins you back to face him and wraps the towel around you, using it to draw you into him for a kiss.

“Charlie and Jerry are grabbing my suit, I’m about to go get ready. I have your dress,” Elvis gestured for you to follow him back to the bed room, where he handed you a gold lame evening gown with a cowl neck. “There’s a hair dryer under the sink, honey, do you have any make up with you?”

You shake your head.

“Man, you really didn’t do a good job planning for our date tonight…”

“Ooh, you mean my kidnapping? No, sorry…”

“Never met a more willing victim…”

“Ha!”

“S’ good thing you got kidnapped by someone who has a hair dresser, I’ll have Larry do you after me.”

You hear the door at the front of the room, and Elvis pats you on the bottom, again, as you turn back into the bathroom.

“Hey guys, back here!” You hear his voice call from the adjourning bedroom. “Becky’s in the john gettin’ ready… Black Phoenix, good. Tell Lamar, I want supper laid out up here after the show, fried chicken, meatloaf, potatoes, maybe something healthy, like potato salad? Have ‘em fix it up good. Some snacks, you know, for us to pick at. Drinks. And I don’t want half of Jackson up here again…. just family.”

You tune them out, looking around for the hair dryer, eventually finding it next to a stack of boxed enema kits under the sink, an amenity that struck you as somewhat odd for a hotel to provide. But Elvis was only in town for a few days, why would he need so many? You didn’t want to think about it. Hair dry and somewhat straightened, you exhaled, taking a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, breathing slowly and trying to get your heart rate to slow down. Straining to get the gold dress over your bust, you suspected it is a size too small. The top was like a corset, constraining as it sucks you in, pushing your breasts up and almost out of the loose, cowl neckline. You snapped one of the thin gold straps, wondering if it would hold out for the night or break under the pressure your curves were exerting on it. Luckily, the gown fell looser at the waist, and the sleek, lame felt cool and silky over your bare legs. The shoes, at least were the right size, a set of matching gold platform sandals with a thick heel. A thick three or four inch heel. A thick heel that would mean walking may or may not work out for you, so you would need to go slow.

“Good, cuz you can’t breath anyway…” you tell your reflection.

Sucking in and moving slowly, you opened the bathroom door, finding Elvis sitting at the vanity decked out in a white jumpsuit with a black, zebra belt that has looped chains draped around the bottom. The silhouette of a large black bird in flight was stitched in black sequins on the back, and when he turned to look at you, you see the same silhouette on the front, black shiny wings rising along either side of his open chest. An older white guy stood behind Elvis, combing his hair out with his fingers and a spray bottle.

“There she is! Larry, this is Becky.” You nod at them, smoothing your hands over your belly, pulling up at your neckline.

“I think Jerry got me the wrong size… feel like I’m busting out of this dress…”

Elvis chuckled as he stood, walking over to you, hands on your waist, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as they stared down at your heaving breasts. “Nah, you look just right.” You cocked an eyebrow as he led you to the vanity and told Larry to get you ready while he sat back in the large, leather chair on the other side of the bedroom and smoked a stogie. Your eyes met through the reflection mirror as Elvis watched in amusement while Larry made small talk with you.

“Nice to meet you, Becky… is it short for Rebecca?” You nod. “Beautiful name… a Biblical name.”

“Hmmm, I s’pose, if you go in for that sort of thing…”

“Yeah, well, I go in for all sorts of things … you don’t?”

You purse your lips slightly. “No, I stopped believing in fairy tales when I grew up…” Elvis cocked an eye brow, exhaling his cigar and smirking as he shook his head, as if to warn you that you had no idea what you were getting into.

“Oh Becky, oh man, that really hurts me to hear you say that,” Larry dusted over the top of your cheeks with blush. “Gosh, if that’s your definition of growing up, I hope I never do… what’s the meaning of life without the deeper, spiritual mysteries of the world… how do we achieve a higher plane of existence?”

You sighed, “Life has no meaning, Larry, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it’s all just chaos and I guess… I guess we just do our best to enjoy the way things get thrown together and figure out how to survive…”

“Oh man, oh man, in some ways, what you’re saying is very - close your eyes for a second, I’m gonna dust a finishing powder here - is almost existential, from a philosophical perspective, but I… well, I’ve experienced too many coincidences, too many psychic exchanges, almost too many dimensions to be able to even start to come back down to where you are.”

You were trying not to squint as he did a second coat of mascara.

“I didn’t go to college," you mutter, "So I’m not sure I really understand everything you're saying… but, its not like I’m miserable. I like my life, I guess...Sure I wish somethings were different, but… I don’t think I’m part of some bigger, coordinated plan… "

Larry clucked his tongue.

“What’s your birthday?”

You were startled for a moment, then responded. “July… July 26, 1948… why…?”

“8 …. You hear that EP? Just like you, her day of the month adds up to an 8!” He whispered to you. “Birth dates that add up to 8, well, they’re quite powerful… what, you don’t believe in numerology either, huh? Don’t you feel hopeless wandering around this beautiful earth, thinking like that? Were you raised with any religion?”

“Sure, yeah, my folks are Jewish, I still think of myself as a Jew - I.. um…it’s more of a.. um cultural thing, I guess… if I had kids, I’d raise them the way I was, but I’d be honest with them about how things really are….”

Larry’s face lit up, as he turned to his bag to pull out a bottle of hairspray.

“Oh, I should have known you were mishpacha, look at those dark brown eyes… Oy Rivka, it makes my heart break hearing you talk about life so cynically…. Where did you find this one, anyway, EP? She’s cute, she’s smart and I can sense that you’ll have a real positive effect on her, bring some spiritually into her life... if she’ll just open up her mind …”

Elvis smiled devilishly, standing.

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll have any probably getting her to open up for me… found her at the party last night, she’s just some groupie hanging round, wouldn’t let me be… practically begged to spend another day with me…”

Elvis stalked toward you, a smug look plastered on his face, his hand was on your shoulder as he looked into your reflection. Larry stepped back, pleased with his work. Looking at your reflection, it was a lot more makeup than you ever wore, gold eye shadow shimmered almost to your eyebrows. But you smiled, embracing the utter absurdity of it all and giving yourself over to the pleasurable of feeling glamorous. Not recognizing the tired, disheveled workaday Becky who walked into this pent house in jeans and converse an hour or so ago.

“Groupie…mmhmmm.. that’s me…” you smiled a broad, fake smile as you rose, grasping Elvis' shoulder to steady yourself. “This week it’s the great Elvis Presley, next week, Aerosmith is in town. Fingers crossed I can sneak into their party…”

Elvis grunts as he pulls you in front of him, hands on your waist.

“Ha! Not if I have anything to do with it….”

You playfully slap his shoulder, meeting his eyes.

“Told you Presley, no man can tame me…”

He grips your butt, then smacks it.

“I ain’t just any man, Twitch… mmhmmm… you’ll see…”

You turn to Larry, saying in Yiddish, “How do you stand working with this asshole, huh?” Larry laughed, and Elvis crooked an eyebrow.

“Hey, now… what she say?”

Larry looked over at him, “Oh just how lucky I am to spend all my days with you.

———————————

Heading to the coliseum in a caravan of long black limos, you realize it’s past 8 o’clock, and you are anxious for Elvis when you arrive only 10 minutes before he is supposed to perform.

“Isn’t this cutting it close?” You murmur, taking his hand out of the limo and hanging on to his arm for dear life as you stumble alongside him through the stage door.

“Nah, honey, this is how I like it… otherwise I’m a caged animal, prowling around the dressing room. No, it’s better this way... I walk right from the limo onto the stage. Keeps the momentum going.” He looked over his shoulder. “Jerrah! I want Becky up in front, in the middle, and have someone keep an eye on her. Don’t won’t her gettin’ smashed in the stampede of women running up to get me.”

He looked down at you and winked.

“And Jerrah, I’m gonna need you to do better with the gatorrrr - ade tonight, last night my throat was so dry I thought I was Bob Dylan.”

He grinned down at you to see if you got his joke. You rolled your eyes, and he slapped your left butt cheek playfully. Again. Your butt was getting more attention in the last few hours than it had in the last ten years.

“Now, that was a good one… shudda laughed... most stubborn audience in Jackson, guys, right here. Look at how hard she has to work to frown at my jokes. ”

You lean into his shoulder, relishing the coziness of his body enclosed around you as long as you could before you arrived at the backstage curtain. Elvis hands began to tremble slightly as he stepped away from you. Caught off by how cold and alone you suddenly felt without his arm around you, you noticed that Elvis’ breathing became shallow and panicked as he let go of you and walked toward the curtain, mumbling to himself.

”You can do this boy, you can do this….you love this…. you do this ev’ry night.”

“Is he ok?” You ask Jerry, who is now walking you around to the front of the stage. Jerry looks at you, a soft smile.

“Yeah, this is good, every once an a while we have a hard time getting him out of the dressing room. Crazy, huh? Think he’d have gotten over stage fright by now…”

Jerry pats your back, leaving you at center stage, thirty or so feet closer than where you had been last night. Tonight’s performance was similar, though it was rougher being in the eye of the storm. The music was louder, and the blare of the horns hit you in the face the moment they began. You watched Elvis propel himself on stage, where he was instantly transformed from nervous school boy to a charismatic rock star strutting and dancing and karate kicking himself across the platform. Exuding a cheerful, roguish vitality, he playfully bantered with the women who ran up to kiss him, joked with the audience, or stopped the music to ask a little girl about the drawing she brought up for him to sign. The restrictive, tightness of your dress and your unsteady heels all faded away as you were taken captive by Elvis’ showmanship. He stopped to wink down at you throughout the night. You were paralyzed when he strode over to center stage and bent his left leg back in a karate stance, then proceeded to thrust above you several times, grinning like a teenager and laughing as he sang. It brought a swarm of butterflies to your tummy, and they flew up your stomach to take permanent residence at the top of your rib cage for the rest of the show, fluttering around while you quivered. You felt yourself blush, and you knew Elvis had noticed it when he walked downstage and paused to fan himself with his own hand.

“Wheweee, this June weather is heating us up, ain’t it lil girl,” and he looked over at you. You didn't think your cheeks could get any redder, but you were wrong. Elvis grinned, then looked back out at the thousands of people behind you. “But that’s alright, that’s just the kind of show ya do on a Monday evening. We came here to be with y’all and to sweat and to hand out scarves.”

He winked again, and you swore he was about to bend down and kiss you when he stopped just short of your position and kissed the blonde next to you, looking over at you with a smirk and an eyebrow waggle after wrapping a white scarf around her.

—— ----------

Thirty minutes after the show, and you were still sitting next to Lamar in the dressing room, waiting for Elvis to finish signing autographs by the stage. Lamar offered you a Pepsi and M & Ms from a bowl, and you crunched them angrily.

“Five more minutes, and I’m fixin’ to just take myself home,” you whine, leaning your head back.

Lamar chuckled. “Don’t let him hear that, EP’ll intentionally make us wait another hour just to show you what happens when you’re impatient… “

“I’ll be long gone before I spend two hours twiddling my fingers back here…”

Lamar looked at you, and shrugged, you guessed he’d seen worse. You stood up to go out to the stage. Lamar looked up from his newspaper.

“You’ll wanna fix your lipstick.”

You raised your eyebrows in disdain. “I wasn’t wearing any make-up when I met him last night?”

Lamar hit his knee, ”Well, I’m not gonna say it never happens… but its rare… I’ve been with him for almost twenty years, off an on, and I’ve seen Elvis go out with women of all shapes an sizes, older, younger, married, divorced, single moms, business women, sisters - one right after the other … but they’ve been … they’ve pretty much always … attentive to their appearance… let’s just say he’s never been shy to tell a girl, or any of us, I s’pose, what to wear, how to do our hair, how to look. He knows what he likes, and he almost always gets it, sonabitch… I mean, look at you now ….”

You looked at your self in the full length mirror. Lamar was right, you looked like a different person. An almost pretty one, like those old money debs who you were making fun of last night. You pulled at your neckline, vainly attempting to cover your breasts more.

“Do you think he told Jerry to buy my dress a size down?”

Lamar chortled. “Ha, at least! If not two… partly because he knows he likes the way it shows off your figure, no disrespect meant. But also partly to fuck with you. He likes to turn the screw a bit… it's subconscious, like, sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

“Yeah, well, he definitely knew what he was doing when he made Joe get out of the car on the other side of town…”

“Oh, “ Lamar popped some candy in his mouth, “that’s nothin’, he once fired Joe and left him in the middle of the Mojave dessert…”

You gasped and shook your head, wondering if you should just go home. Fixing some stray hairs, you wiped your mouth, realizing you didn’t have lipstick with you, or anything, so if you did decide to leave you wouldn’t be able to get a cab. Maybe Lamar would take pity on you and drive you home? Or you could find a phone and beg someone to come get you. Maybe you should, the allure of the concert was starting to dissipate, the fatigue was coming back, it was 10:30 and seeing Elvis through Lamar’s perspective was making you question your decision to come out tonight…. For the thousandth time. Your pulled at your neckline once again, and gave Lamar a salute as you hobbled out to the stage to take another look at your date before deciding whether to sneak off, determined not to let these heels take you down.

Elvis’ face lit up with boyish glee when he saw you meander out. Just that quick exchange made you giddy and your desire to leave evaporated. You ambled over to lean against the stage from the grassy field, looking up and watching him where he stood ten feet away, surrounded by people waiting for him to sign their photos, stuffed animals, panties, or take a picture. Elvis bathed in their admiration, laughing and joking and pulling faces with them, while Jerry and five tired men moved them through the line. About every fifteen minutes, Elvis would turn to where you now sat on the tip of the stage, swinging your feet, and holler.

“Hang loose darlin’, just be another five minutes.”

It was 11:37 when you observed Elvis kiss the last pair of women goodbye and stomp over to you with an effected, stilted gait. A damp towel around his neck, his eyes still twinkling from the unfiltered love he’d been basking in over the last few hours. From where you sat, head leaning on your arms over the stage floor, he seemed fifteen feet tall. You gasped when Elvis suddenly plopped down on his knees about an inch from your face and poked your nose, his voice sweet and light.

“So how you doin?”

You smiled, to tired the fight his charm. Any lingering impatience or resentment you felt from waiting the last two hours melted like a popsicle in the glow of his radiance. Head still laying to the side, you responded in a breathy, dreamy voice.

“Hmmmm… just fine and dandy…”

“Good… still wanna come have dinner with me?”

You nodded, and Elvis took your hand to help you up.

“C’mon Becky Butt, let’s go get something in that sweet mouth ‘o yours …”

“You’re worse than a teenage boy, you know that?” You scowl, but nevertheless, can’t help your visceral need to seek out the warmth of his body and plunge into his side.

——-----------

You did find something to stick in your mouth. Potato chips, cheese and crackers, grapes, fried chicken, roasted potatoes, little bites of key lime pie. Sipping your second beer, you walk over to the couch and settle down. Looking around the room, you consider that, while there are certainly less people here tonight, this is hardly what you would consider a small gathering. The suite is filled with the men of Elvis’ entourage, a handful of band members, a handful of women, maybe wives, girlfriends, lovers? Your dress, thankfully, had given in to the roundness of your body and stretched out a bit, so you can at least breathe, although your breasts were still mounting their rebellion. You pulled up the neck line again, and shifted toward Charlie, who was tuning a guitar on the other side of the couch.

“Hey, I heard Elvis during the show, he said you’re from Alabama?’

Charlie looked up at you, his fingers playing a few unorganized chords, and he nodded, then looked over towards the kitchen. You followed his eyes to Elvis, who’s back was turned. You noticed Elvis’ hand seemed very cozily wrapped around the waist of one of his backup singers, what was her name, Kathy? You watch his fingers rub her back. You sighed, he was a handsy guy and you were not into jealous drama, so you turn back to Charlie, who seemed to relax.

“Mhmm, where are you from … Becky is it?”

“Birmingham…. but I’ve lived here in Jackson, gosh for 10 years…. So,” you looked back over at the kitchen, and whisper. “Charlie, why are there 1000 enema kits in the bathroom?”

Charlie belted out a surprised guffaw, and shook his head.

“I’m not even gonna start with that….”

“Ok,” you grinned. “So, how many women you reckon big man over there has slept with?”

Charlie chuckled into his guitar again, and just shook his head.

“Too many… but I’ll tell ya what…I’ve been hanging out with that man these last 17 our 18 years or so, and I’ve eaten meatloaf and fried chicken so often I cain’t barely stand ‘em.” Charlie fooled around strumming the guitar a bit more. “Sometimes he just wants meatloaf, every night, like for six months at a time…. Sometimes he wants all his favorite dishes buffet style, all at the same time, see? He might go for somethin’ new, but even then, usually, it’s cuz its similar, like… shepard’s pie, that’s a lot like meatloaf, jus with mashed potatoes on top… then that becomes his favorite dish for a while, and he has to have it ev’ry night til it's not new any more… see, EP, man ….he takes comfort in the familiar…”

You nodded, smiling, getting what Charlie was trying to say. I guess I’m the shepard’s pie of Jackson…

“So, where y’all headed next on this tour?” You smooth you dress as you bend your knees up behind you on the couch, and giggle as a nipple pops up and you push it back into your dress.

“Oh, well, we’re goin’ back ta Memphis tomarra, for—" all of a sudden one of the other guys was in front of Charlie, bending in his ear.

“Crazy over there wants to talk to ya,” you heard him whisper.

“Sure, Dick,” Charlie nodded back, and looked over you, handing you his guitar. “Hold this for me, won’t ya?”

You lean across him to put your drink on the side table, and you feel Charlie tense as your breasts graze his lap, you’ve never seen anyone hop up so fast as he alights and hands you his instrument. Taking his guitar, you flip your legs back on the ground, and eyes following the two men as they walk over to Elvis, who is now very much turned toward you, a grimace clouding his face. Kathy has been replaced by another man who’s talking to him. You wonder what upset him? But you are distracted by the guitar in your lap, and start to strum a few notes, smiling up at Elvis as you start to sing an old folk song from one of your Joan Baez records that popped into your head, you don’t know why. You’re not in love with Elvis, you’ve only known him 24 hours, but he does have black hair…

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair

His face so soft and wondrous fair

The purest eyes

And the strongest hands

I love the ground on where he stands

Closing your eyes, you let the buzz from the drinks and the show and the energy of the party creep over you and you give yourself to the song, singing softly. You open your eyes to see Elvis strolling over to you while you sing, and he takes a seat next to you where Charlie had been, leaning back into the armrest. There is wonder and affection in his eyes, and you push your leg into him as he rubs you knee while you warble out the last verse of the song.

“Where’d you learn to sing these sad sack songs, mhmm?” He scoots you closer to him, his hands snaking around your waist. You lean your head onto his chest, appreciating the way your head fits under his chin, strumming the strings casually.

“Summer camp… as a teenager …. it’s actually not far from here... just outside of Jackson.”

The warmth of his fingers trace up the side of your body, and you absentmindedly lift one hand to stroke his right sideburn, pulling on the curly, rough hair. His breath is hot on your ear when Elvis murmurs.

“Not bad, for an amateur I guess…”

“Ha…. most stubborn audience in Jackson, guys, right here.” You call out, your voice is playful and loud, and Elvis pulls you on to his lap.

“Hmmm… you’re funny, ya know that?” He kisses your lips, and you dangle the guitar down by its neck, your other hand on Elvis’ shoulder to return his kiss, and then nuzzle back into him. “Go on now, play me a ‘nother one…” he cooed.

You turn your face up to his, and nod.

“K, here’s another from camp.” And you start to strum the chords to the folk version of an old Hebrew prayer, your head against his while his arm wraps around you. Your feet now dangle over the edge of his lap and his other hand rests over you, thumb rubbing your thigh as you sing.

Hashkiveinu Adonai

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu

l’cha--yim

Spread the shelter of your peace over us

Guide us in wisdom, compassion, and trust

Hashkiveinu Adonai

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu

l’cha--yim

Save us for the sake of your name

Shield us from hatred sorrow and pain

Elvis lips kiss your neck.

“That’s beautiful honey, what’s it mean?”

You look down, still cradling the guitar. “I guess its a call out to God to lay us down with peace when we go to sleep at night, and give us peace when we wake in the morning… a call for protection.”

Elvis stroked your thigh, then moved his hands over yours on the guitar. “Go head, teach me the chords… I wanna learn this.”

You feel a firm rod hardening underneath you as you show him how the song goes, fingers over fingers, his lips on your neck, repeating the words. You laugh at his Hebrew pronunciations and he slaps your hip, laughing with you.

“How can you sing this music honey, and then say you don’t believe in God?”

You thought of your conversation earlier, and looked up to see if anyone heard what you and Elvis were saying. The crowd had gotten smaller, but those remaining seemed to be paying very little attention to the two of you.

“Of course you believe in God, Elvis, cuz your life is a fairy tale… handsome, talented, successful… but it’s really just random chance… why would God make some people beautiful and others ugly? Why would he make some poor and others rich? There’s no rhyme or reason to our lives…”

Elvis’ knuckles trailed across your cheek.

“Ya don’t really think life is pointless?”

You hesitate. “Not pointless… but any meaning it has is meaning we give it, while we deal with all the bullshit we get dealt…”

“This…” Elvis murmured into your ear. “This is why he brought you to me. We’re meant to help each other… I’m going to help you seek him out…”

“Elvis…” you whisper, “what if I’m meant to help show you that there is no God?”

“Oh baby, I know there’s a God… I’ve seen ‘im….”

You roll your eyes, and Elvis pulls you tighter, chuckling.

“Hmmm. So you’re bringing me to the light, how am I helping you?”

“Thought we already covered that… you’re using those snake charmin’ skills to remind me how God works in mysterious ways.” You feel him thrust his hips up into you a few times. His erection is undeniable, and you cough out a guffaw as he smirks, then lifts you up, one hand under your knees, the other around your arm. You shriek and drop the guitar.

“Oh no!”

“Don’t worry, baby, jus Charlie’s guitar, don’t matter one bit.” He smiled deviously over in Charlie’s direction and kicked the instrument out of his way, before bellowing out over your lifted frame. “Alright y’all, quitting time, s’been a long day, time to hit the hay.” You giggle, blushing again, its obvious that he is about to carry you to the bed room and you burrow into his chest to hide.

——-----------

Emerging from the master bathroom, face clean, hair brushed back, you’re wearing a slinky, pink silk nightie Jerry must have bought and put out for you on the bed. You shiver, seeing Elvis in his own blue pajamas already in the bed. He pats the space beside him, and you scurry over, launching onto the bed with a jump.

“Slow down, lil' girl, this ain’t the Grand Prix…”

You nod, breath shallow and nervous as you get under the covers and lay down next to Elvis. He turns, fingers slowly stroking your tummy, his face hovering an inch above yours. You shiver, breathing in more deeply, taking in his distinct musk of sweat, tobacco and spice. His lips softly skim over yours.

“Have a good time tonight?”

“Mhmmm,” your hands move up his chest and around his neck.

His fingers trail down your belly, you feel the flames crackling at your core burst into a fire, and you bite your lip. Elvis grins, his cheeks expanding. His fingers are under your nightie, and he grins wider as he notices you aren’t wearing underwear, growling as he pushes your nightie up. You gasp as those fingers work their way down, running through your pubic hair. He raises his eyebrows, you feel his cock twitch against you, and you nod your chin, a slight moan escaping you as you lean up into his mouth and move your hands from his neck to pull down his pajama bottoms. He chuckles into your kiss.

“OK, woman, ok…. Now let a man take his own drawers off….”

You sit up against the pillows and Elvis rolls over on his back to pull his pajamas off and throw them to the floor first, pants then shirt. Why did we even get changed? You think as you turn to him, hand on his chest, mouth on his neck, his moans joining yours as you move to straddle his thighs. Looking up at you with awe, he pulls your night gown off and you slowly grind against him. Elvis’ hands move to your waist, grasping your soft, cushy handles, and you arch your head back when he lifts his thumb to his mouth and sucks over it, then lowers it to your clit. Each stroke is deliberate, soft, slow, and you buck forward with a tremor, moaning out. His stiff length rubs between your ass cheeks, and you thrust against it. You halt your movements forward and rise up, using your hands to guide him inside you, then grunting out as you bear down on him, the friction and the stretch a welcome thrill as you slowly plunged further. Elvis grunts and sits up, responding to the magnetic electricity that had been building between you all night. Neither of you can get close enough, you pull each other as tight as possible, surging your hips down into him while he grips your handles. Your arms wind around his neck and his forehead is damp against your chin and his voice speaks into your neck high and breathy.

“Oh baby, sweet baby, where ya been all my life? Huh?”

Your chest heaves into him, and you ride him further, crying out with a twitch when his cock hits that new magic spot. Your G spot. Your E spot. Moaning, you kiss down on the top of his head, grasping him closer when his arms tighten around your waist. You feel the sweat dripping down through his chest hair as it chafes against your nipples, the sensation brings a gasp out of your mouth. You meld together with each clap of thunder as your hips meet his over and over, your skin is electrified and the sensation seems more intense than the previous night, your bodies seem more in tune with each other, so much so that they seem to fit together. You follow where he leads, and he responds to each movement you make, lips seeking out the nape of your neck, sending shivers through you until his soft kisses become aggressive and you try to consume each other before the flames rise up out of the bed to devour you both.

“Oh GOD, Elvis! Fuckkkkk….”

You call out, your whole cunt is vibrating with anticipation, you can feel electricity coiling behind your belly button.

“See honey? Its workin’ already… I’m bringing you closer to God.. ugghhhh....” he grunts as you bear down on him. You try to roll your eyes but then have to squeeze them closed when his hands work your hips up and down again and you spasm.

Another minute, and you are screaming out through the waves of pleasure emanating up your core, your rolls into each other slow, and there it is, you can’t help it, you’re sobbing again as a feverish warmth spreads over you. Elvis’ fingers are on your face, clearing away your hair, wiping your tears with his thumbs. His hips are stilled, and he kisses your chin, your lips part with a deep exhale.

“Ugh, oh, God, I don’t know——“

“Ssshhh,” he pulls you into him. “S’ok...” He murmurs into your neck, you wrap yourself further around him from above, and begin to move again. “You wanna keep goin’?

“Mhmm” you breath out, clenching around him and you feel as if he’s gone even deeper inside you, like Elvis is probing so far into you he might burst right through you. The rhythm resumes, your bottom hits his knees as you lunge up and down and you feel him gasp in a soft, weak high voice.

“Oh darlin’, let me be your baby… just take me in you and let me be your lil’ baby….?” His eyes beg you, and his mouth contorts into a pinched expression of shock and pleasure. Hands on your hips, Elvis pulled you forward onto him and you increase your pace, pushing faster into him, wet skin slapping against his chest while he holds you close, your hands smoothing over his hair and you whisper.

“There’s a good boy, ahhh! ….. course you can be my baby… my good baby... my bubbleleh…” you murmur, smoothing the top of his hair. You have never talked the way during sex, it just comes out in the moment and you go with it as you both inhabit the roles you play in all the different aspects of your life at once: mother, father, lover, child.

Elvis’ eyes look up at you from below, with his chin jutting and the innocent expression lighting up his face, he looks ten years younger. His eyes plead for release, connection, recognition, and his eyebrows are pushed up by desire while his left hand cups your neck. Jerking back, he pushes you off him and down on the bed, pulling out just before he explodes on to your abdomen with a stuttering growl. He pumps himself with his hand one, two, three more times, then exhales loudly as your bodies still. He coughs and grunts again, shaking his head, hands rubbing your sides up and down.

You look up, a dizzy smile on your face. “I’m on the pill, just so ya know…”

“Oh?” Elvis looked down at you, moving to get off the bed, presumably to get you a towel, but you pull him back, instead wiping your self off on the duvet. You push him down on his back, straddling him once more, this time to cuddle on top of him. You lean forward over him and relish the way his chest hair tickles your breasts. He fluffs a pillow as you rest your head over crossed arms and look up in delight at the goofy grin spreading across his face. His neck swells forward, and now his mouth sits above a tower of meaty jowls. His baritone voice reverberates up into your arms.

“Is that cuz you already have a daddy here in Jackson?”

You shake your head. “Nooooo. Just cautious, like you.”

Elvis bows his chin forward. “Yeah, well, I already knew you didn’t have a man, I could tell… I know things,” he grinned, pointing his index finger at his head.

You lean up, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Yeah… I know…. You’re a seer…. what we just did was definitely a spiritual experience…” You giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything… anything like that…” you tuck your head into his chest, your fingers tousling the damp, sweaty curls they find. Elvis runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

“Hmmm, s’always better the more you do it together, isn’t it… bodies get used to each other… I’ve… I’ve had some good rolls in the hay, but it’s been a while… boyoboy…” He gently pulls your hair back so you are looking up at him, his profile limned by the soft bedside lamp. “Come back to Memphis with me tomorrow.”

You purse your lip. “Elvis… I…”

He shakes his head. “Uh uh, I don’t like the sound of that… woman, you just told me you had the best sex of your life. I ain’t asking you to marry me, jus come spend a few days an' have some fun… can’t tell me that store won’t get along with out you?”

You sit up, next to him, crossing your legs on the bed.

“Elvis, you just met me… this is moving tooo fast..”

“Honey, fast is the only speed I know…”

“Elvis, I can’t go to Memphis with you.”

He pauses, brow furrowed. “This cuz you thought you were going out with THE Elvis Presssley, then ended up with me?”

You grab his shoulders, leaning over him to kiss his face as he turns in a huff, pouting.

“What the fuck are you even talking about? You think I’m disappointed because I got to see you up close? The real you?” You turn his face back to look at you and the hurt in his eyes dissipates. “No baby… no…. Look, I’ve had the best time with you. Ever. I mean it. You are…. Well, ‘m not one for making a fool of myself an tellin’ a man how foxy I think he is… you know you are…” you slap his shoulder. “And you’re actually better than I thought you’d be… you’re funny… and brilliant…. and.. ugh… I stole your belt last night because I wanted to remember this forever …. When I’m with you I… I … feel like a teenager again… all my cares and responsibilities, they melt away. And that’s nice, cuz I had to grow up kinda of early … so feeling free again… its been a dream —”

“Then why don’t you wanna come with me, baby?”

“I do. I want to. But I can’t… I have people who depend on me, people who need me… I’ve been taking over the management of my uncle’s store… I live with my aunt and uncle, they’re in their 60s…” and I have a kid I don’t want to tell you about because this is just fun and I don't want to bring the baggage from my life into this one night - two night - stand …. “I have to go back to reality tomorrow… or today, depending what time it is?… I guess that doesn’t matter… I have to go back to my life and so … so do you…”

Elvis takes your hand, drawing you into the crook of his arm, his other hand caresses your shoulder, you can see the wheels in his head turning.

“Hmmm… let’s get some sleep, we’ll talk about this in the mornin’… jus promise no sneaking’ out this time without sayin’ good bye?”

You assent with a bow, and he kisses the top of your head, then sits up to take a pill bottle out of the side table drawer. You shake your head no when he offers you some, and watch as he gulps a handful down, no water, and turns off the light. Ten minutes later Elvis’ ragged snores lull you too sleep.

——----------

The room is black when you wake up in a naked embrace with Elvis, your hair matted down from the warm sweat of his chest. The windows are still covered with aluminum, but the bedside clock tells you it's 6 am. You gently lift his arm so you can get up, and as you swing your feet off the bed he sits up with a start, grabbing you from behind.

“Don’t leave me Satnin, don’t leave me in the dark… I can’t be alone in the dark…” his soft voice trembles with fear, and you push back into the pillows, taking Elvis’ head in your lap and sooth his brow, hushing him with a promise that you aren’t leaving, just going to the bathroom.

Once he falls back to sleep, you get up and, finding your nighty, make your way to the en suite toilet. Looking over at him as you come back, you tip toe out of the bed room to call home and talk to Ruth in the living room. You had snuck off to a phone after the show last night, and had a long, apologetic conversation with Aunt Ida, who was, honestly, too enthusiastic about the fact that you wouldn’t be coming home for the second night in a row. You met someone, girlchik, I told you that you would, she had gushed. You had just been grateful that neither Danny nor Harriet had told their parents whom that someone was. Harriet had stayed over to help, as promised, and was going to open the store today, but you hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ruth. You leave the lights in the living room off, relieved that Joe or one of the other guys is not sitting in the living room to greet you this morning when you make your way to the phone near the pent house kitchen. You sit on a bar stool and have the operator call your house, then ask Ida to put your daughter on the phone.

“Hey baby, you’re not mad at me for staying out with friends?”

You can hear Ruth roll her eyes. “Mom… why would I be mad? You should do this more, Harriet lets me have as much ice cream as I want. For breakfast too.”

“What?”

“Just kidding…” Ruth giggles.

“Ok, good… hey, after today, only three more days of school left til summer?”

“Mhmm, mom, yeah. I know….”

“Ok, ok, I just called to tell you to have a good day at school, and I’ll see you tonight, ok, sweet baby?”

“Ok, love ya mom.”

Just as Ruth hangs up, you jolt at the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and turn to see Elvis in a robe, rubbing his eyes with a befuddled expression on his face.

“Sweet baby? Thought you didn’t have a man…. “

Hanging up the phone, you throw your head back and look at the ceiling, then return to meet his gaze.

“I don’t… I wasn’t talking to a man…” you mutter.

Elvis’ brow creases, as he rubs his eyes again.

“Well then, who were you…..ohhh…” he walks over to you, and sits in the bar stool next to you “How old?”

“9.” You look down.

“You must a been a baby yer self when you had ‘em?”

You just nod, as he takes your hand.

“An that’s why you can’t come to Memphis.” He drops your hand, getting up and pacing back towards the bedroom.

You stand to follow him, but stop, you can tell he’s upset, but you’re not sure if it’s because he’s mad at you for not telling him you had a kid, or mad because his psychic powers didn’t show him this information, or mad because he’s not going to get what he wants, or mad because he thinks you’re some sort of tramp horrible mother and can’t believe he was attracted to you. Your worst insecurities assume its the latter one, the energy in the room has turned bitter and you want to run out of the door. You fight this, realizing clothes would be good first.

“I should go,” you offer, and he turns, hand on the bridge of his nose as he stands in thought.

“What? No… I mean.. Yes.. honey, do what you gotta do…”

You walk up and kiss Elvis on the cheek, then move to get dressed in the bedroom, finding your old jeans and shirt and converse in the closet. Elvis follows you, and perches at the edge of the large, leather chair watching you dress. He stands to grab something out of his black dress jacket, and pads over to you as you finish tying your shoe. The belt and ring he gave you are on the bed next to where you finish getting dressed, and you aren’t sure if you should leave them. He seems to read your mind.

“Take ‘em… go ahead, I want ya to have ‘em…” Then he hands you a wad of money. “And this too, for all your troubles.”

You count it, $500. A sinking feeling starts in the pit of your stomach. Whore. You feel like a cheap whore. You crumple up the cash and throw it on top of his things, slap him in the face, and then walk out through the bedroom and leave without looking back.

Elvis rubs his stinging cheek, and turns to follow. No one has ever rejected his gifts.

“What the devil in tarnation… crazy woman…” he mumbles to himself, still drugged and half dead from the sleeping pills and lack of sleep, his mind and body are moving slow. He hears the front door slam and he jogs after you, sticking his head out of the door to call you back, only to find the hallway empty. All that remains of your presence is the faint sting from your hand still burning his cheek.

taglist:

@woundmetender @powerofelvis @butlervol6 @ab4eva @whositmcwhatsit @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @azzawrites @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen @father-of-2cats @lillypink @notstefaniepresley @stylespresleyhearted @godlypresley

Read Chapter Three Here

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley smut #elvis x OC #big daddy elvis #big daddy elvis fic #banditqueenwrites

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bangtanloverboys · 1 year ago

Text

four seasons, for love // kth

summary - the monks had taught taehyung to detach himself from the world so his spirit could be free. he would keep no worldly possessions, only what he truly needed, and never form any true romantic attachment. he was a monk after all. yet as taehyung made his way across the world once again, he found you in his path

pairing - air nomad!taehyung x earth kingdom male!reader

genre - fluff, minor minor angst; avatar the last airbender au

word count - 5.4k

warnings - pov swaps, minor injuries, BALD TAEHYUNG RIGHTS GODDAMMIT, some inaccurate air nomad culture i did the best i could, sky bison!yeontan, they don’t say they’re in love but they are, kissing, kinda bitter sweet ending but its cute, this takes place i wanna say end of kyoshi era-beginning of roku

author’s note - DEADASS TOOK ME TWO YEARS TO WRITE THIS. I REWATCHED ATLA MANY TIMES, SCOURED THE ATLA WIKI PAGES, AND MANY MANY YOUTUBE VIDEO ESSAYS ONTHIS SHOW AND ITS RESEARCH. was it all necessary? no. am i autistic? yes

collection masterlist

Traveling was one of Taehyung's favorite and least favorite things to do. He found the wind blowing in his face and whistling past his ears as he flew through the air was a wonderful way to calm his nerves. But he hated traveling alone though, despite having his bison Yeontan with him as company, he did miss other people. Which granted he would soon see again within a few days.

He was returning from a visit to the Eastern Air Temple and was on his way back to the Northern Air Temple. While Air Nomads were, as the name suggested, nomadic; Taehyung always felt a strong pull to the Northern Temple. It was where he grew up, it was where he went though most of his training, it was where he even earned his mastery tattoos, all in all, the Northern Temple was home to him. It was a sentiment he would never say aloud though. Air Nomads were supposed to let go of their ties to the world, freeing their spirit. Taehyung wouldn’t be a monk if he called a place his home. Yet something deep in his soul told him that that’s what he wanted, to have an attachment.

Having just flown over the great city of Ba Sing Se, Taehyung figured there were only a few days left in his journey back. Over the wind, he could hear - and feel - Yeontan groan, signaling to Taehyung that he was tired after traveling for so long. “Okay buddy, we’ll land soon.” He said as he patted the head of his companion. If he recalled correctly, there was a river not far from where they flew in the skies, so Taehyung started flying in that general direction.

As he got closer and closer to the river, he noticed a few figures making their way towards the river. Once Yeontan got close enough to the ground, he noticed the figures were Earth Kingdom soldiers and they were chasing after you. He debated quickly as to whether or not to jump in and separate the fight, but upon watching further, he saw you jump into the river and began to swim frantically away. The soldiers halted as you struggled to swim across the wide river, maybe you weren’t gonna make it?

All hopes of you making it seemed to be dashed when a soldier pulled out a bola, and started swinging it in the direction of you. “No-” Taehyung started to call out to try and stop them but it was too late, the soldier swung the weights and with the lucky shot the bola wrapped around your leg, slowly but surely you were sinking.

“Yeontan, get closer to the river!” He called out to his bison as he jumped from his spot on his head to dive into the water. As he got closer to you, he saw as you struggled to stay afloat.

“Help!” You gargled out before you sank beneath the water. Behind Taehyung, he could hear the soldiers yelling at him, telling him to mind his business but he paid no mind to them. Taehyung submerged himself beneath the waves and looked around until he could see your figure a few feet behind him still struggling.

Quickly, Taehyung swam closer to you and watched as you slowly stopped struggling. He needed to work fast, he wrapped his arms around your torso and started kicking towards the surface again. Once he broke the surface of the river, he looked around and spotted Yeontan, who was floating not far from where he and you were.

Although it took a bit of struggling, Taehyung managed to pull your dead weight over to the tail of his bison. Once the two of you were on, he called for Yeontan to lift his tail, to which he followed and he was able to pull you on to the saddle. “Yip yip!” Taehyung belted out and his bison started to rise from the water and back towards the skies. All while the soldiers were yelling at them to come back.

Once they were up in the air, Taehyung focused his attention on you, currently laying unconscious in the saddle. He brought his head to your chest and could hear your heartbeat, as well as feel your chest rise and fall. You were still alive, to which that was a relief. He then saw your left leg, which was still entangled with the bola. Carefully as he could, he undid the tangle, but he could see there was still a lot of damage done to the limb. While he wasn’t very skilled in healing, he knew the basics to help. Now if only he could remember what Monk Ruen taught him. . .

A dull aching pain seared from your left leg woke you. You tried your best to ignore it as every other muscle in your body begged to continue sleeping, but the pain only grew and grew until you were groaning loudly. Within an instant, a cool hand was placed over your forehead in an attempt to soothe you. You tried to push away from the stranger’s grasp, but they held you down. “Hey hey hey, it’s alright. You nearly drowned, you’re gonna be okay.” A deep voice echoed in your mind, consoling you.

“My leg-” You cried out as you opened your eyes to see the stranger. Your vision was blurry, either from sleep or the tears you were holding back, but there was no mistaking who your savior was. Above you was the figure of an air nomad, the signature blue arrow rested over his forehead and ran over the top of his clean shaven head. You blinked up at him, your vision clearing up and you could see his grey eyes were laced with concern as you squirmed in pain.

“Your leg was injured by a bola. A healer will be able to help more, but I did the best I could.” The monk chuckled nervously as he gestured to your splinted shin.

Following his hand, you took notice of your poorly splinted leg. Judging from spots of blood that was seeping through the cloth, the wound was still fresh and open. You let out a huff as you let your head fall back to the soft ground. . . impossibly soft ground. The pain of your leg distracted you from realizing that you were not even on the dirt. Instead you were splayed out on a large saddle of sorts. Even above you, the skyline and the trees looked different from the village you once called home. Where were you?

“We’re several miles away from the river, those soldiers won’t be able to find you here.” The nomad explained. “I’m Taehyung, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You slowly lifted yourself to a sitting position, trying your best not to move your leg too much.

Taehyung was silent for a few seconds, eying you carefully. You felt unnerved under his grey eyed stare, like he was looking into your very soul. “If you don’t mind me asking, why were those soldiers after you?”

Suddenly you remembered how you got into this situation. You were caught stealing food from some soldiers. But only because you had too! You had no money and the food looked so good. . . food you didn’t even have any more considering you dropped it somewhere in between the village and the river. You avoided eye contact with the nomad for a split second, should you lie? Was it morally okay to lie to an air nomad? You remembered hearing something about how the air nomads were good fortune. . . Not willing to risk it, you huffed out your confession.

“I was caught stealing food.” Gnawing on your lip nervously as you gaged his reaction. “I wasn’t just stealing it because I could! The mayor has this massive tax, we don’t have any money and I was starving!” You didn’t realize you were shouting at him until your words echoed into the forest. Gulping, you kept your eyes trained on the nomad before you, praying to whatever spirits could hear that he would spare a spit of kindness your way.

His eyes softened. Taehyung placed his hand on your shoulder. “Are you still hungry?”

Opening your mouth to respond, but your stomach growled loudly, answering for you.

With a chuckle, he pulled himself away from you digging into his bag that was secured off to the edge of the giant saddle. With his back turned to you, you shifted in your place. “Thank you, for saving me by the way.”

Turning back with some circular yellow cookies, handing them to you.“Nonsense! I couldn’t stand back and watch you drown!” Taehyung looked at you, as if the concept of not helping you was outrageous. “All life is precious, that includes yours. It was the right thing to do.” You felt your cheeks burn at his statement; you’ve heard that air nomads did hold that philosophy but coming from Taehyung, it had butterflies stirring in your stomach. “Now eat and get some more rest. It’s getting late. There’s a town nearby with a healer I know of. I’ll fly us over-”

“I’m sorry, fly?” You cut him off as Taehyung stood up in the saddle, a big boxy grin on his face.

“Watch this!” In the blink of an eye, he jumped up, propelling himself into the air. You watched in awe as he landed not too far from where you sat, his bald head only peeking out from the end of the saddle. “Yeontan, yip yip!” He shouted and suddenly the entire saddle groaned and rumbled. Then with a loud thump coming from behind, slowly you noticed how you were getting higher and higher, until you broke through the branches of the tree tops and into the open air of the sky. You were flying!

“Woah!” You exclaimed as you looked over the ends of the saddle and noticed you were on the back of a sky bison! How could you have forgotten that airbenders almost always travel with a bison? You heard Taehyung laugh at you over the wind as you watched with wide eyes over the height you were growing to.

“Rest! The town’s not too far from here! We’ll be there soon!” The air nomad called out to you. You were exhausted, you’re unsure if you’re going to be able to sleep completely. You lean back against the end of the saddle again and keep your eyes trained to the sky, watching the clouds as they float alongside you.

He doesn’t know how long it was since he started flying, but the next time Taehyung looked over his shoulder, he saw you resting peacefully. He smiled to himself, happy that you were at least safe and he was taking you away from a bad situation. He knew the town nearby was good and if you accepted his help, maybe he could help you get a job? He was unsure though, he just wanted to make sure you were more or less okay before continuing his journey back home, to which his fellow monks would definitely be concerned with how late he’d return, but he supposes they’re used to some people going off track and being late by now.

Taehyung hummed to himself as he kept his eyes trained on the horizon, watching as the sun started to dip below it. It wasn’t too long before he saw the smoke trail of the village appear in his line of sight. Turning his head over his shoulder, he called out to you, “Y/N! Wake up! We’re here!”

He heard the low groan of your voice as you began to wake up. “Hmm wha- what the monkey feathers!” Taehyung heard you shout, getting a good chuckle out of him as you became more lucid.

“We’re about to land in Naizong Village,” he explained as he heard you shuffle closer to look over the side of the saddle. “It’s an easy landing, but I do suggest you hold on!” He smiled at you over his shoulder, only to see you enthralled with the sight of the world coming closer and closer. As Yeontan neared the ground, Taehyung saw a handful of people gathering just outside the village. “Gently, Tannie!” He instructed his bison as he landed on the dirt.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite nomad!” A voice shouted from the small crowd. Squinting his eyes, he managed to spot the owner of the familiar voice.

“Leni!” Taehyung beamed as he hopped off Yeontan’s head. Leni was the Naizong healer and a friend of his guardian, thus making her his friend too. He grew up visiting her often whenever they made their way back towards the Northern Air Temple. “It’s so good to see you!” He wrapped his arms around the elderly woman.

“It’s good to see you too, Tae! How’s my boy doing? And how’s Ruen?” She questioned as she raised a hand to his face, pinching one of his cheeks.

He opened his mouth to answer, but before he got a word out, your voice from above called out. “Sorry to interrupt, but a little help here?”

“Oh, sorry!” Taehyung pushed himself up into the air, landing softly next to you in the saddle. Ever so carefully, he got you standing before wrapping an arm around your waist. You in return placed your arm over his shoulder. Gently, he propelled the two of you up in the air. Your grip on him tightened as you began to hover midair, eliciting a small smile from him, “I got you,” he said as he started the descent back to solid ground. “There you go,” he kept his arm loose around your waist, letting you use him as a crutch.

“Oh, child! What happened to you?” Leni questioned as Taehyung continued to keep you upright.

“This is Y/N, I rescued him from uh. . .” turning his head to you, he saw a flash of fear in your eyes. He knew then he couldn’t tell Leni the outright truth, as thief was a brand worn forever, no matter what they were stealing. Not wanting to ruin your chances of a second chance, he made up an excuse for your injury. “From a platypus bear trap. Pesky things. I tried to fix him up as best I could, but I’m no healer.” He laughed nervously to himself as Leni looked at you with a sorrowful face.

“I’m sorry dear, let's get you fixed up.” She gestured over to her home over her shoulder and started to head in that direction.

“No, I don’t want to intrude-” You began to protest before Leni shushed you.

“It’s no problem, at all. Any friend of Taehyung is a friend of mine. I can fix up your leg and get you some supper. Come on now.” She assured you as she led the both of your towards her cottage. “Taehyung, Yeontan can help himself to the barn.”

He chuckled at her comment, “She must’ve restocked on hay. Normally she tells him to stay away from the barn.” He remarked to you as you hobbled along next to him. Taehyung stopped walking, moving his arms to pick you up. “Here let me-”

“I’m fine,” you insisted as you attempted to stop him from lifting you up.

“Leni’s house is a bit of a walk and dare I say it, she’s getting ahead.” He chortled at you. “Let me, it’s no problem really.”

Silently, you agreed, moving your hands to wrap around his neck as his arm went beneath your legs. Taehyung was able to catch up fairly quickly to Leni. He was able to catch a few glances down at you while you all made the walk to Leni’s house. Taehyung was quick to notice how you kept your eyes away from his face, focused on the trees or other passing villagers. There was a light blush across your cheeks whenever you seemed to catch him looking at you, but you never said anything.

Upon arriving at Leni’s place, he placed you down seated at the table while your hostess went to fetch her first aid kit. The two of you sat in an awkward silence as you waited for her to return.

“Thank you, by the way.” You said as Taehyung sat himself next to you, he gave you a puzzled look before you continued. “For not telling her about. . . you know.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “Do you uh, think this is a good place for you? To start over?” He questioned, curious as to your thoughts and getting away from your old village.

“I think it’ll work just fine,” you smiled at him, “it’s a good place for a fresh start.”

Taehyung moved to speak again when Leni returned with her kit, “Now, let’s see how badly Tae-Tae messed up your leg.”

The air nomad stepped back, standing in the doorway as he watched Leni carefully re-wrapped your leg, which looked a lot better than his poor attempt at it. All set in place, Leni told you to sit tight as she went to grab you some food to eat. Despite your protests of being fine, it wasn’t hard to hear your stomach grumbling, leaving you no choice but to sit and wait until the elderly woman returned.

“She’s nice,” you muttered, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, she’s really sweet.” He agreed, nodding. A silence fell over you both yet again, unsure of what to say. “Leni can help you get everything in order for you, I uh, I should get going-“

“Taehyung, you will do no such thing.” Leni scolded as she returned to the table, a few bowls of soup in hand. “It’s late, have supper. You can leave at first light.”

“You’re leaving?” He couldn’t help but detect a sense of hurt in your voice.

“It’s just- I mean- I said I’d arrive at the Northern Air Temple in a few days time, I’m so close.” He mumbled, feeling torn between his word and the sense of responsibility he harbored for you.

“Well I’m sure Ruen will understand if you arrive a day late.” Leni said, pushing the bowl towards him. “Now eat. You’re so scrawny.”

Not wanting to argue anymore, he reached for the chopsticks, ready to eat. The meal was eaten in a comfortable silence. When the three of you had finished, bellies full, Taehyung stood up, ready to help Leni clear the table, but the old woman slapped his hand away.

“I can handle the dishes, Taehyung. You can help our guest towards the guest room.” And without saying another word, took the bowls and headed away, leaving Taehyung with no choice other than to help you. Taehyung looked at you sheepishly as you covered your mouth, stifling a laugh.

“Come on, best we listen to her,” he sighed playfully as he stood up. Extending an arm out to you, he helped you rise to your feet, once again offering himself as a crutch. Graciously, you accepted this time, allowing him to lead you further into the house and towards one of the spare rooms.

“Who is Ruen? Is he like your father or something” You asked offhandedly.

Taehyung winced at the question, “Uh, no, he’s my guardian.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” You furrowed your brows

“No, air nomads aren’t raised by those who gave birth to them,” Taehyung responded cordially as he approached a door, pushing it open.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Your face fell as he helped you into the room.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, I know what it feels like to not know your parents,” you said, your voice lowering to a softer tone.

Taehyung frowned as he got you seated down on the bed. “I knew who my parents were, they just weren’t who raised me.” Granted, he rarely ever saw the people who conceived him, all Taehyung ever truly knew was Monk Ruen. He taught him everything he knew; how to cook, clean, and play pai sho. If that was what a father would teach his son, then Ruen would be the closest to that.

Your eyes grew wide in embarrassment. “I-I okay- rats, I’m-”

Taehyung stopped you before you could start to tumble over your words even further. “It’s okay.” With that assurance, your shoulders dropped in relief. An agreed upon silence falling over the two of you. With you under Leni’s roof, he knew you were set for a fresh start. You were going to be okay. Unsure what else to say, Taehyung backed away from the bed. “I’ll let you rest now. Good night.”

“See you in the morning?” You asked out.

Taehyung knew he shouldn’t leave any later than sunrise, but perhaps he could stay a bit longer. He sees Ruen more often than Leni, and now there’s you as well. He should say goodbye to his new friend. “See you in the morning.”

True to his word, Taehyung did see you in the morning to say goodbye, albeit it was only for a few moments, he did have to reach the Northern Air Temple before the end of the day. Your hair was tousled from sleep, and your eyes were bleary. He felt oddly endeared by the sight as you, with the help of Leni, tiredly made your way over toward Yeontan.

“Good morning!” He smiled at the pair of you. Leni was obviously more awake than you, as you grumbled out a response.

“Good morning, Taehyung,” the elderly woman responded. “I have something for you and Ruen,” she said, a ceramic pot in a netted bag. Taehyung didn’t even have to open it to know what was inside, egg custard tart. Bowing in thanks, he carefully took the bag, securing it amongst his other things.

Leni helped set you down near a hay bale beside the sky bison, leaving you to watch as Taehyung finished making sure everything was secured and ready for take off (as well as watch Yeontan nibble on some hay that was set aside for him). Once he had finished, he hopped down to Lenoi, hugging her goodbye.

“Take care of yourself,” she said as she pulled away from him. “And give my love to Ruen.”

“I will, Leni.” Free of Leni’s grasp, he turned to you. You’d risen from your spot on the hay bale, carefully keeping your weight off of your bad foot. “It was wonderful to meet you, Y/N.”

“Likewise,” you smiled, standing there awkwardly.

Taehyung hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not to hug you, before ultimately deciding he would. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You stiffened for a moment, but relaxed into his touch, returning the hug. After a few moments, it was you that broke away from the embrace.

“You should probably go. I’ve already made you late enough,” you said, chuckling nervously.

With a small laugh, Taehyung propelled himself up into the air, gently landing on Yeontan’s head. “Take care!” Grabbing the reins in his hands, he gave them a soft snap, “Yeontan, yip-yip!” With that, his sky bison flew off into the air. Looking over, Taehyung watched as you and Leni shrunk down into the size of ants, before completely disappearing from his sight. Yeontan groaned beneath him. “I know, buddy, I like him too.”

After returning to the Northern Air Temple, Taehyung’s mind could not be rid of you. Despite your quick meeting, you had left quite an impact. He thought of you as he cooked fruit pies, between matches of air ball, he couldn’t even meditate as all his mind would center on was of you. Your reactions to his jokes, his food, what you might even think of the temple (although it was forbidden to bring outsiders). If any of the other air nomads had noticed his sudden attachment, they said nothing, and he could only hope they wouldn’t find out.

As the seasons changed; summer into fall, and fall into winter, Taehyung found himself once again, ready to leave the temple for the next. However, he was certain he was going to make a stop to see you again.

After Taehyung’s departure, Leni gave you ample time to heal. But your ankle was permanently damaged, the thick wire of the bola dug deep into your muscle, leaving you with a slight limp. Leni had given you a staff to assist you with walking, helping you adjust.

She’d even let you stay with her, so long as you helped her with her herbalist shop in town. You’d learned a great deal from helping her, with all the sick and injured villagers that would come to her, seeking remedies.

Every morning before breakfast, you’d wake up just around sunrise. You’d make your way out of the house, and sit beside the barn, eyes facing the north. It was obvious that you were anxious to see Taehyung again, yet with each passing day, you grew less and less hopeful to see the sky bison flying in the horizon. He never did say if or when he’d return, but you’d hoped it would’ve been sooner rather than later.

“He won’t be back for a while, you know that right?” Leni’s voice pulled you from deep thought, having followed you out one morning. “I’ve been friends with Ruen since we were both young, and I've only seen him no more than ten times in my life. The air nomads are detached from the world, so a friendship with them is a great honor and blessing. But they never come more than once every few years.” You deflated upon hearing that, but it didn’t stop you from waiting. Something in you knew that Taehyung would return.

However, Leni had begun to tell stories of her time with Ruen and Taehyung: how she’d first met him, some of the many pranks they pulled together as kids, and when Ruen became Taheyung’s appointed guardian. With that came special stories about the air nomad you’d found yourself fond of; hearing tales of him as a child, his own troublemaker years. What was especially heart warming was apparently after Taehyung had earned his mastery tattoos, he’d made a beeline for the Naizong Village, wanting Leni to be the first person he told as he made his rounds across the world again. You could only hope that he would hold you in the same regard one day.

The days grew colder and nights grew longer, signaling the changing of the seasons. You’d grown up in an arid town, close to the Serpent's Pass, miles away from the walls of Ba Sing Se. Being farther north than you’d ever lived before, you were in awe of the thin layer of snow that had covered the village. You’d begun to slightly stand out amongst the other villagers now, bundling up in layers, unused to the cold. While the others weren’t wearing as many layers as you, perhaps only wearing longer sleeves instead.

Per your routine, you woke up at sunrise, making yourself a pot of tea to keep you warm as you stared off into the northern skies. The brisk morning air nipped at your cheeks, slowly waking you more as you sipped on your tea. You blew out a puff of air, your hot breath visible in the chilly morning air. You’d found yourself doing that a lot lately, imagining yourself an airbender, how far your breath would go if you could send it farther than possible. Taehyung had also come to mind, would he find your musing entertaining?

Taking another sip of your tea, a loud yet familiar roar was heard in the distance. Your head shot up, sloshing the tea over your fingers. You hissed, but pushed away the pain, focusing on the fact that a sky bison was heading your way! The beast landed near the barn, and its owner jumped up from their place. While it had been months since you’d last seen his face, you recognized him instantly. Taehyung had returned!

“You’re here! You’re actually here!” You shouted happily as you practically ran over to the nomad, throwing your arms over his shoulders.

“Woah, did you miss me or something?” He laughed as he returned your hug, wrapping his arms around your torso. He was still wearing the same robes from when you’d met him, with no additional covering to keep out the cold. But despite coming down from great heights, his body was warm to the touch, you almost didn’t want to let him go.

“Somewhat,” you muttered. With the sound of the door opening, you’d finally released him, allowing for Leni to make her move to hug him.

“Two visits in one year? Well, I must be dreaming.”

“You aren’t, Leni.” Your heart softened at the sight of them. Even though you’d seen them reunite before, knowing what you know now of them, made your heart squeeze.

With Taehyung back, and unsure how long he was going to stay, you attached yourself to his side. In the back of your mind, you feared he would push you away, wanting his space. But he didn’t, in fact, he welcomed your presence. Every morning, he’d brew you a cup of tea for you to drink whilst he fed Yeontan. During the day, with nothing growing in the cold it left you and Taehyung free to roam the woods. He’d show you some airbending moves, which would knock down the snow that was gathering on the branches. One time the snow landed on you, falling down the back of your shirt, ice cold wetness sliding down your spine. You yelped, but all Taehyung could do was laugh at you.

But the most favorite thing the two of you would do was as just before sunset, Taehyung would help you up onto Yeontan, and he’d take you for a ride. You were asleep that first time you rode the sky bison, not able to fully enjoy the experience that was flying over the world. With the sun slowly falling below the horizon, it turned the sky a magnificent orange. Painting the clouds in red, yellows, and purples. It was a sight to behold, and one you certainly never wanted to forget.

Above the clouds, it was as if it was only you two in the entire world (well, the two of you plus Yeontan). Taehyung sat so close to you, and suddenly the cold winter air no longer disturbed you. Tentatively, you rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him stiffen, and you almost pulled your head back up to apologize, but he relaxed, feeling his chin rest on the top of your head.

“I really like you, Tae,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the winds. But Taehyung had heard you, his hand finding yours and lacing his fingers with yours.

“I really like you too.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you lifted your head up to look at him, eyes occasionally flickering down to his lips. His brows furrowed at your sudden decision to stare, but before he could question you, you pressed your mouth to his. Taehyung made a small noise of surprise, but he melted into the kiss, hand still tightly grasped in yours. Meanwhile, your free hand crawled up to the nape of his neck. The skin of your palm was met by the smallest of fuzz, barely even grown in.

You pulled away momentarily, his breath fanned across your face, the sensation similar to a fresh spring breeze. “You need to shave,” you murmured against his lips.

“What if. . . what if I didn’t?” His words left you frowning. “I’ve never felt this way before, but I know I shouldn’t. Ijust. . . I can’t be without you.”

“You’re. . . suggesting you leave the Air Nomads?” The words had your heart fluttering and your stomach drop. The realization of the consequences had you reeling. “No, those are your people-”

“I love my people,” Tae cut you off. “But I know that forming an attachment like this? They wouldn’t- I would be exiled either way. This is my choice.” His other hand came up to grapes your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, waves of comfort and reassurance flowed through him.

Smiling at him, your hand that has rested on his neck moved, dragging over the tattooed skin of his head. Barely you saw him shiver at the sensation. “You’d look nice with long hair.”

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