#it's her largest work and she just put all of herself into it

[rebellionbeach]

Finally own the Tankobon version of A Cruel God Reigns and they are so beautiful 💕

I feel like re-reading the series again

[wintersera]

cw: sugarbaby!wony, sugarmommy!reader, choking, dacryphilia, spanking, uses of toys (strap, vibrator), bimbo wony, degredation, public sex

these two images of wony driving me @pupyuj and @wonysugar insane last night so i had to write something about it 😭

wony being the leader of babygirlism- you can’t tell me she isn’t like she’s so sugar baby coded in these pictures?? maybe even a bimbo baby girl

a clingy sugar baby to be exact. always texting you filthy sexts when you’re at work, showing off the lacy pink panties you sent her a couple of days ago. VIDEOS:?:));? she’s sending multiple videos of her getting off- like she would be moving aside her panties and taking the largest dildo in her collection then pumping it in and out of her tight little cunt :(( like literally lifting herself up and down onto the dildo while her wetness coats the entire thing. oh she would fr be moaning loudly on purpose, detailing ever single thing she wants you to do to her, saying how she wishes her mommy wasn’t at work so mommy could fuck her senseless.?£:):;:) she’d also send those videos at the worst times possibly like?? it was like she knew you were in an extremely important meeting- your notifications going crazy bc she sent you like 20+ full paragraphs of everything she needs with like 10+ attachments of her pussy being spread opened, fucked, slapped. literally everything 😭😭 augh and when i say you had to excuse yourself outta the meeting lying to your coworkers saying that you had an “unexpected family issue”

PUNISHING HER WHEN YOU GET BACK?? wony being in your bathroom making herself look all pretty bc you were gonna go on a fancy dinner date later that night!! she didn’t know that those videos caused you to come all the way home :(( tidying herself up and taking a quick selfie in your mirror bc she looks so pretty and cute, thinking it woukd be fun to send you those pictures bc she knows you’re absolutely in love with her ass- like you would actually WORSHIP HER ASS. but anyways you stand at the door just watching her giggle as she comes up with the most sluttiest caption for her photo, then she hears you phone buzz,, the way she whipped her head around would surely give any other person whiplash bc it was so damn fast 😭 rather than fearing for her life, she’s holding back a grin bc she knows shes about to have the best fuck of her life. you already got the strap from your room all you need to do now is just bend her over the sink and fuck her like a rabid animal,, wony having no ounce of shame in her body bc she’s so bimbo stupid whore core who begs for strap 24/7. you’re aggressively stripping her down, pushing her over the sink and biting down hard onto her shoulder,, and she just lets out the most pornographic squeaky moan ever?? 🫠

you’d notice how wet she was too,, like wet maybe and understatement bc she was actually drenched. her panties were soaked, her legs were dripping with her arousal and omfg?:£:;? seeing that put some sort of animalistic urge into you bc now you had to fuck her pussy till it’s sore. wonyoungie pleading desperately for you to put your cock in her saying things like “mommy please ruin my tight cunt :((“ you could never say no to her even if it was a punishment. pounding into her like mad, slapping her perfect ass watching it turn red and watching it bounce around your strap UGH?!/?/)?:? pulling wonys hair up to make her look at her fucked out face in the mirror,, her jaw was wide open and she was drooling like a stupid little whore with nothing but her mommys cock on her mind. which leaves you with sm free access to her neck 😊 with one of your hands you’re wrapping it around her neck and choking her until she’s crying a little bit. OH SHES DEFINITELY GRINNING AT HERSELF IN THE MIRROR BC SHE KNOWS SHE LOOKS SO GOOD BEING FUCKED FROM BEHIND. ahaha gripping her ass from behind and slamming your cock into her even harder and rougher 🤭

screams out your name while she’s creaming all over your strap, making sure to say “thank you mommy” repeatedly bc she’s that fucked out that she can’t say anything else!! oh and you definitely ruined her mascara :))) her pretty tears made her mascara run down her face and now she’s a little mad at you for doing that (she applied it on so well and you made it look bad :<< aww poor her, but she doesn’t admit that it turns her on)

and then later on in the evening you do actually go on the fancy dinner date. instead of wearing what she originally had (bc you ripped it off of her 😭) wonyoungie decided to wear a cute little skirt for your date!!

feeling sorta evil today,, yk you weren’t so satisfied with your punishment bc you gave wony what she very much wanted, SO you decide it would be some harmless fun to slip a vibrator in her pussy while you were driving towards the restaurant :)) wony thinking it was teasing during the car ride, thinking you would definitely take the vibrator out when you parked your car… awhh, struggling to walk out bc her legs won’t stop shaking </33 it was set to the lowest setting but the low vibrations in her cunt in public made her feel oh so good, the humiliation making her cunt sopping wet,,, and it didnt help that her skirt was so short that you could clearly see her arousal leak out her panties.

walking in and sitting yourself down, ushering wony to sit down as well- OH?!??;):? a waitress comes to your table immediately and you take this opportunity to turn the remote onto the highest setting it can go to :)) earning a whimper from wony. awhh poor baby is so embarrassed,, trying to keep her moans quiet while you’re ignoring her and talking to the waitress.

ofc once youve done getting your order sorted out it was wonys turn to order something- and let me tell you she was fighting for her fucking life 😭😭 her face beet red as she was trying her best not to moan out loud while talking to the waitress,, to toy with her you kept dropping the levels from highest to lowest every so often just to keep it fun 🤭 LIKE wony thinking she was finally safe to say something but then oopsies the vibrator is on the highest setting again 🙈

thankfully you were sat at a booth so you could just scoot yourself next to wonyoung 🤭🤭 you were getting bored waiting for your food and wony had to be fucked- looking as tempting as ever (bimbo girlies need to be treated as such) you were knuckles deep into her pussy!! again, wony trying her absolute best not to scream in public. bucking into your hands so hard while she’s covering her mouth, your palm occasionally grazing her clit in the most perfect way possible,, it took her sm will power not to let out the most dirtiest moans ever. and awww poor wony making a mess all over the chair telling her that shes mommys good little whore- and that her mommy will take care of the mess :<<

food arrives and you’re both chatting and dining like nothing ever happened- sure you had to get some tissues from the bathroom to clean up her mess, but that was about it,, carried out the rest of the date like normal :)) letting your imagination run wild with this one bc, yes, they went home and fucked more.

[chestnutninny]

"I'm Yours"

Asked: Could you please write a Casey Novak x Reader, where Casey gets jealous and possessive? Maybe of Olivia or a defence attorney, could be smut or fluff or whatever.

I've also merged this with another request that I received because I am up to my neck in drafts, and it kind of fitted with what I was writing.

Warning: Smut, fingering (reader receiving), female x female sex, use of dildo, (both Casey and reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), swearing, not proofread.

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You had been a detective at the Manhattan Special Victims Unit for 3 years now. You had grown close to everyone who worked there, but you had become best friends with Olivia Benson, who had become your partner after Stabler's departure from the unit. You always had each other's back and you couldn't ask for a better partner to work with at you time in the precinct.

A few months into your job, you had the pleasure of meeting Senior ADA Casey Novak and you couldn't fault how amazing she was at her jobs, bringing the majority of your victims to justice due to her high success rate. Her passion for the job was what drew you to her at first, however over time it was something that you had began to admire about her. Before you knew it, you were falling for Casey and your feelings for her grew more and more very time that you spoke or joked around.

One night after closing a stressful case and Casey putting the disgusting man behind bars for 25 years to life, the team all decided to go out for drinks to their local bar that was a few blocks from the precinct. You were invited yet you wasn't completely settled on the thought, however after some persuasion from Liv you reluctantly agreed. You all made your way to the bar and entered it, finding the largest table you could find in order for you all be able to sit together.

The only remaining seat was a space squeezed between Olivia and Casey, which you were happy to take considering you were sat next to your two favourite people on the team. You shuffled your way onto the leather bench, your right thigh flush with Olivia's, your left thigh left bare as you were waiting for Casey to sit in her space. You looked over to the bar and saw Casey just leaving it, a drink in either of her hands.

She set down your favourite drink down in front of you before sitting her drink down in front of herself. You thanked her as you locked eyes with her and she sent a wink your way, which made a blush creep up onto your cheeks. You reached forward to grab your drink and made a toast to the team winning the case, your glass clinking with the others surrounding the table.

You and Olivia fell into easy conversation, bursting into fits of giggles and flirtatious banter, her hand resting on your thigh. She would occasionally whisper in your ear and her words made you giggle and blush, burying your head in your hands. Casey couldn't help the boiling rage that had started to set in as she saw the reaction you had to Olivia, and she just wished that it was her who would be making you blush.

However, unknown to Casey, Liv was teasing you about your feelings for Casey and trying to persuade you to ask her out, the thought making you nervous. You took notice of the way Casey's jaw tensed, her teeth clenched together and you shot her a confused glance as her eyes met yours briefly. She averted her gaze, which was something that Casey never did and that unnerved you slightly.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Everyone had started to make their exit out of the bar, most of them drunk and stumbling their way into taxis. It was just you, Liv and Casey remaining at the table. You and Olivia had continued your conversation, your laughs ringing out through the nearly empty bar.

You were silenced as Casey abruptly stood up and gathered her belongings, before leaving some money on the table and departing from your presence. Your eyes followed her out of the bar and when you turned to look at Liv with a confused expression, you were met with a smirk that she tried to hide behind the rim off her glass. You huffed, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

"You know, I think you should go after her. It's late and she's not exactly sober." She reminded you and you couldn't help but think of the bad things that could possibly happen if Casey were to go home by herself, and how you wouldn't be able to live with the guilt if anything happened.

"You're right. Thank Liv, goodnight." You rushed out before tracing Casey's previous footsteps towards the front entrance.

As you got outside, you pulled your jacket around you tighter due to a gust of wind that swept towards you. You caught sight of Casey leaning against a near-by wall, her eyes glued to the lit-up screen before her. You made your way over to her, stumbling a few times along the way.

"Hey." You greeted as you stood in front of her now.

"Hi." She replied coldly, her head not even bothering to look up from her phone.

"It's really late and dark, I'm not too comfortable with the idea of you getting in a taxi by yourself."

"I don't think that that's your call, do you? I'm a big girl, I can fend for myself." She remarked.

"I didn't mean it like that! I just..." You were taken back with her bitter tone.

"You just what, Y/N?"

"What has gotten into you, Case?" You questioned, curious to where this outburst has come from.

"Nothing, it doesn't matter to you. You didn't seem too interested in me when your head was up Benson's ass." She shook her head, looking away from your soldering gaze.

"I don't understand your issue, but you don't get to choose who I can talk to you." You barked, turning on your heel, walking away from her.

"My issue is that your flirting with her when I want you to be mine!" She admitted.

Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back to face her. Her hands found your hips and pulled you flush against her slim frame. Your arms hung over her shoulders as you pulled her in for a kiss, your lips colliding for the first time.

Casey was a bit stiff at the contact at first, but soon her lips moved against with just as much passion. Her fingers pushed into your hips as her tongue swiped against your bottom lips asking for access, which you eagerly granted. She suddenly pulled away from you, leaving you gasping for air and she waved her arm out for the taxi that was driving down the road towards you.

"You're coming home with me." She almost growled into your ear, the husk of her voice sending shivers down your spine.

You both slipped into the backseat of the cab, before Casey gave the driver the address to her apartment. The whole journey there, one of Casey's hands remained on your thigh, her thumb rubbing circles on the exposed skin, whereas her other hand was fumbling change out of her purse. You placed your hand over the one that resided on your thigh, linking your fingers together in a tight embrace.

Once the taxi pulled up outside Casey's home, she practically threw the money to the poor man before swinging open the doors to flee to her front door, you in tow behind her. As soon as you closed her apartment behind you, she had you pushed up against it, her lips reattaching themselves to yours. She trailed her kisses down to your neck as your fingers laced into her strawberry coloured hair pulling on it slightly as her teeth bit into a sensitive bit of your skin, which elicited a moan from Casey's preoccupied lips.

"Fuck, Case. Are you sure you want to do this?" You questioned, however you couldn't hide the excitement in your voice.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life." She confirmed, sealing it with a gentle kiss on your lips.

She pulled off your jacket and gestured for you to remove your shoes, before dragging you towards her bedroom, you assumed. Once inside her room, her lips found yours again and your fingers found the hem of her top, tugging on it slightly. She pulled away long enough for you to pull the fabric over her head, before returning to close the distance between you both.

You took notice of the green lace that clad to her perky breasts, which made your mouth water at the gorgeous sight. Your admiring was cut short as she pulled your top over your head, exposing your bare chest to her. She threw your t-shirt somewhere in the room, followed by her discarded trousers.

She wrapped her plump lips around your left nipple, sucking on it gently, where as her right hand came up the roll your other nipple between her pointer finger and thumb. You moaned audibly and arched your chest further into her mouth, which made her give your nipple a tug with her teeth. You hips ground down on her thigh in order to gain some sort of friction from where you needed her the most.

"Fuck, Casey. Please...just touch me." You pleaded.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?" You responded, a smug grin on her face as she did.

"You know where." You tried.

"I want to hear you say it."

"I...I want you to fuck me! I want to feel your fingers in me, please Casey." You begged, panting out the syllables.

Her hands moved down to your thighs, spending them before settling in between them. She pulled your soaked panties down your legs before discarding them on her bedroom floor. She then reached down between your legs and ran her fingers through your folds, spreading your wetness from your entrance up to your sensitive clit.

You moaned at the slight contact, feeling her her fingers applied your pressure the louder you were. Suddenly, her fingers plunged into your entrance, stretching you out tightly around her long digits. Her fingers set a relentless pace, pounded in and out of you, the sound of your wetness echoing off the walls in her bedroom.

You were embarrassed at how quickly you could feel your orgasm approaching and you knew that Casey could feel your orgasm, feeling the way your walls clenched around her fingers. Before you could reach your peak, Casey's fingers were pulled from your body, pulling a pitiful whine from your ajar mouth. She tutted at your bratty behaviour, swatting at the outside of your thigh.

"I don't know if you deserve to come, especially after that little show you put on in the bar." She signed, mockingly.

"Please, Case. I promise it won't happen again." You tried to plead, but she only shook her head.

"That's not good enough, baby. I need to hear you tell me who you belong to."

"Fuck, I'm yours! I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours." You chanted, the mantra falling from your lips even more perfect than Casey had imagined.

You gasped as her fingers plunged back inside you, followed by a loud moan as her fingers pushed repeatedly into your G-spot, edging you closer to your long awaited orgasm. Yet, a groan of disapproval left your mouth as her fingers were removed once again. You closed your eyes in defeat as she moved away your heaving body, reaching for something in her nightstand.

As you opened your eyes, you were faced with a large double-ended dildo that was held in Casey's hand, her other hand pumping lube across its rippled surface. You jaw dropped as she slid one end into your already dripping entrance, moaning as it stretched you out even more than what Casey's fingers did. Your pleasure was amplified by the moan that Casey emitted as she settled herself down on the other end of the large appendage, her face contorting with pleasure.

After you had both adjusted to the size of the dildo, Casey started to move her hips, grinding them into yours, causing the tip of the dildo to brush against all the best spots in both of you. As her hips got closer to yours, you could feel her wet clit rubbing against your own, bringing you even closer to your orgasm. You both grinded against each other with determination, chasing your orgasms that were becoming evidently closer.

A mix of both of your moans echoed throughout the room as you both reached your peak, Casey's juices mixing with your own as you both came. You both lazily humped at each other as you came down from your high, panting as you tried to regain your breath. Casey pulled the dildo out of you both, which emitted a small whine from your end at the loss of contact and also the sensitivity you were now feeling.

"God, that was amazing." You sighed, blissfully.

"It was." You laughed as you caught sight of the lob-sided grin that her face sported.

"Hey, can you help me grab my things? I'll get out of your hair now." You asked, as you sat up from her very comfortable bed.

"No way! You're staying with me tonight, I have to make it up to you for edging you so much." She argued.

"You've already made it up to me. By letting me be yours." You flirted.

"Fuck, baby. How about you lay back down, and I'll clean you up?" She questioned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You did as you were told and settled yourself back on her soft mattress, you legs parted slightly as you awaited the towel that would dry your dampened thighs. Instead you were met with Casey's warm tongue running through your wet folds, her moans vibrating through your core. Your back arched as your fingers moved to lace into her hair, tugging slightly at the strands.

"Fuck, baby. You taste so good." She mumbled from between your legs, the compliment making you moan louder and push her head impossibly closer to your pussy.

"This pussy is mine, All Mine."

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Taglist- @borinxnovakxprentiss @lolololalalala @zolofts @chloeelou02x @ultramoderndyke @moonlightjxuregui @juanitoluna03 (join my taglist here)

[monarch-moon]

No harm in submitting this!

For the past few months, I've been working on and off on a new project called World Cell, which is more of an adventure story featuring a caravan of characters going on a world-wide journey! To put it lightly, at least lol. This is the height chart and a collection of refs for the major cast!

Bits of info of each of them under the cut!

We of course have Asher as our main character! This royal prince is ready to do what he's been training to do, but the only other thing he likes aside from swords and weapons is eating bugs!

Returning is our grumpy lady, Evo! Now sporting 20% more side boob, 40% scales, and 100% foul language.

Third is our gentle giant, Haoyu, who is the party's medic. It doesn't take long to get him to freak out, especially since he's in a gang full of reckless troublemakers.

Fourth up is our resident living armor, Alyster! Don't mind him, he may be the largest, but he's pretty chill.

You know her, I love her, it's none other than our resident potato, Aki! Now with more dogy love, especially to her angry lizard girlfriend~.

The party needs someone competent to cook for them, so meet Eirwen! When things get gloomy, you can trust his friendly face c:

But if you need someone who can bring a lot of sunshine in the group, meet Natsu! Our lovely transgirl here has a smile so powerful, the only other thing that can rival it is her punch.

The group needs someone sensible to lead them, so meet Haku, Natsu's older brother! This man may be short, but he is prepared for any situation. We stan a short king.

Next up, we have our lovely lady Sarya! She may not participate much in the action, but she contributes in a different way: driving everyone around in a sizeable carriage!

Following close to Asher is the first princess of Vaalum herself, Naiotah! This is her first time doing this, but she's ready to go either way!

Never without his box of artifacts and rocks, we have Hayden! Rumor has it he can tell exactly what era something is from just by licking it...except it's not a rumor, that's true.

Can't have Asher without Odix!! He may have more feathers than before, but he's still full of heart~

Last but certainly not least is our pearl from the sea, Xouya! Don't let her elegant demeanor fool you, this one's got p l a n s cooking in her brain, and you might not like em.

To be quite honest with you guys, this has been the most well put together main cast I've made in any story I've created (though credit where credit is due, I made all the refs, but @snowprismdragon , @hawker-the-gary , and @solannecontinuum contributed characters...namely Alyster and Eirwen from Snow....Aki, Hayden, Sarya, and Odix from Hawk, and Xouya from Solanne. Asher, Haoyu, Haku, Natsu, Naiotah and Evo are mine.)

Anyway, if you've read all this, thank you guys for your time c: I will probably be drawing these guys a lot when I can!

[neteyamssock]

Not so bad, after all.

╰┈➤ PART VI.

pairing: agedup!Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

summary: when neteyam and you met each other for the first time, they were overwhelmed with feelings they have never felt before.

word count: 2.5k

tags: violence, fighting, crying... (idk what else, please tell me if I left something out!)

a/n: unedited! rough draft straight from gdocs. i promise i'll revise this series once i finish it huhu. feedbacks is very much appreciated! thank you very much 😘💜

text divider credits to @/enchanthings

masterlist

part v | part vii (end)

It was one bright morning when you visited Ronal’s marui, seeking her out. Although the older woman was surprised that you were actively seeking her, she didn’t think too much about it and let you in. The tsahik and olo-eyktan’s marui is the largest marui in awa’atlu, the most intricate and grand, with decorations that represents the couple’s authority in the clan. You roamed your eyes inside and remembered how aonung would often say that once the two of you mated, he’d build one bigger than his parents’ marui.

Your stomach flipped at the thought. You know he doesn’t love you, but unlike you, he’s ready to settle if it means his parents would be happy.

“Why look for me, girl? Is there a bottleneck in your learning?” She beckoned you to sit in front of her, busying herself with her weaving. You didn’t fail to notice the changes in her stomach. The babe in her womb is growing, and its beginning to show in her body.

Noticing your gaze, a small smile graced her lips fleetingly before returning to her usual stoic expression. Caressing her stomach, she good-naturedly said. “You’re also going to experience pregnancy when you mate with my son. So it is good that you’re taking observations.”

You felt your throat getting blocked as you fidgeted, feeling of dread overturning your previous calm thoughts. When you didn’t respond as optimistic as she expected, Ronal’s eyes narrowed. “Why show such a look? Are you perhaps against the idea of getting pregnant right after mating? That’s fine. Both you and aonung are still young—”

“It’s not because of that, Tsahik…” you forced yourself to speak up, afraid of meeting her gaze. You saw her finally put down what she was weaving and looked at you with a scrutinizing gaze. You can feel her sharps dissecting you, trying to see through you.

“Then what? Speak up. Perhaps I could give you some solutions for whatever’s bothering you. This must be the reason you sought me out, am I right?”

You bite on your lip so hard it hurts. Your hand was clenched tight, you wanted to flee. Your resolve is crumbling bit by bit. It’s no secret that you are afraid of the Tsahik. You knew her ability, and knew what she could do. For a moment you considered backing out, but Neteyam’s face appeared in your mind, reminding you what you must do.

And you must do it now. Now, or never.

You never wanted to mate with Aonung. From the moment you learned how to think, you just saw him as a brother. It never once crossed your mind that you’d mate with him, even when your grandfather arranged you with him. Instead of facing the truth, you pretended the arrangement wasn’t real and cowardly hoped everyone would change their mind. Everyone seemed content with it, it was only you who cannot accept it.

“...I came here to express my desire to break my arrangement with Aon—”

“PREPOSTEROUS!” 

BANG!

A small stone jar broke into several pieces in front of you. One grazed your cheek, causing it to bleed. It stings, but perhaps the pain in your heart was a lot stronger. You closed your eyes when Ronal pulled you to stand up roughly.

“What are you saying now, child?! Have you lost your mind?! You cannot easily dismiss an arrangement you worked hard for so many years!”

Before you can even reply, she pushes you roughly, making you stumble a few steps back. You can no longer control your tears as the Olo-eyktan, Aonung, and Tsireya came charging in the marui.

“What is causing all these commotions, Tsahik?” With a loud thunderous voice, the olo-eyktan questioned. At this moment, everyone noticed the commotion and was watching with confused eyes. Aonung and Tsireya were looking at you and Ronal back and forth, trying to decipher what could have led to these confrontations. You cannot look them in the eye, feeling ashamed.

Ronal sneered and pointed at you, voice shrill as she said. “This foolish girl wants to break her arrangement with Aonung! An arrangement approved by great mother Eywa!”

You can hear gasps and murmurs of your clansmen, looking at you with unapproving eyes. You almost wanted to laugh. Eywa’s will? No. The great mother would not be so cruel. You are also her child, she would not force you in a loveless arrangement, would she?

In your peripherals you can see Aonung bowing his head, clenching his hands into fist. You cannot see the expression he’s making, but you know he’s furious. At you, maybe. Tsireya was trying her best to not cry, looking at you with a sympathetic gaze. It makes you feel better, giving you air to breathe. You avoided her gaze and looked back at Ronal and Tonowari with defiant eyes, even more resolute in your decision.

“Is this true, ____?” Tonowari’s jaw tightened, his gaze held disappointment and disapproval.

“Yes, Olo-eyktan. That is true.” You were surprised at how calm your voice is, the conviction in it so palpable as if you have finally found your voice after all those years of being mute.

Tonowari closed his eyes, trying to control his temper while Ronal got even more furious. “Girl, it would do you well to remember that it was your grandfather who begged us for this arrangement! How ridiculous of you to throw all that away for your nonsensical whims!”

You understand Ronal’s anger. Of course she’d be furious, all those years of preparing you to be the next Tsahik would be put to waste, and she’d start all over again. But you’re done with always thinking about others. Of putting everyone’s happiness before yours. At least at this moment, you want to be selfish. You want to choose yourself, even if it means hurting others and yourself in the process.

“Indeed, it was my grandfather who begged for this arrangement. All he wants is to make me happy, but I am not happy, Tsahik. I have finally gained confidence to say that this is not the path for me, and Eywa can bear witness. All those years I remained silent, but I can no longer do that. Not when—”

“It’s Neteyam, isn’t it? You wanted to break the arrangement because you have fallen for an outsider!”

You froze, staring wide-eyed at Aonung as he did the worst thing he could ever do in this situation. Bringing up Neteyam. You knew things would get far more complicated once Neteyam got caught in the issue. All this time you’re treading carefully, hoping not to get Neteyam involved, but Aonung just has to ruin it for you.

“That’s not—” 

“I’ll kill him!” Aonung ruthlessly pushed Tsireya away when she tried stopping him. As you were about to run after him, Tonwari pinned you at your place with just his gaze. You could only shoot Tsireya a begging look before standing back in place. Tsireya shot you a small supportive smile before running after aonung.

“You have fallen for the Sully boy? Don’t try to lie, child. I have watched you grow up, like you’re my own child. So you must tell us the truth.”

“ABSURD! I knew taking in that fam—”

“Tsahik you must calm down, you are with a child.”

Ronal scoffed, turning around in anger. She refused to look at you. Perhaps too disappointed to even spare you a glance. 

You have no choice but to admit it. “Yes. I wish to be with Neteyam, but it is not the only reason why I want to dismiss the arrangement. I do not see Aonung as anything more than a brother. It would be unfair for Aonung if I force myself into this arrangement without my heart in it.”

“My son is will be an excellent man, I'm sure you'll learn to adore him when he becomes a man. You—”

“My decision is final. Begging the Olo-eyktan and Tsahik to consider my plea.”

Tonowari regarded you with a searching gaze. He had always known you as silent, reserved, and obedient. Someone who would immediately follow orders in silence. At this moment, he’s seeing you in a new light. Seeing your determination and sincerity, he waved his hand. “Are you certain of this, _____? Once you let go, you can never get it back.”

You smiled, appreciating Tonowari’s care for you, but you don’t want to go back. Not when freedom is near, almost within your grasp. “I am certain, Olo-eyktan. I will stand by my choice until the end.”

Ronal sneered at your words, glancing at Tonowari, telling him to wake you up from your delusions, but Tonowari avoided her gaze. Instead, he said to you, “I’ll give you an answer soon, but you must tell your grandfather of your plan yourself.”

“Tonowari!” Ronal shrieked, but Tonowari only motioned you to leave as he said. “Leave us, I’ll talk to the Tsahik.”

So you did. With your heart singing in joy, you ran towards Neteyam’s marui, only for your excitement to turn into horror as you saw Aonung being held back by others and Neteyam standing in front of him with bleeding lips.

“You!” Aonung’s furious shout immediately caught everyone’s attention. He was heaving, anger so palpable that everyone quickly backed away from him, afraid of attracting his ire.

Neteyam was standing in front of their marui when he saw Aonung charging at him with a furious expression. His eyes narrowed and was about to ask what’s his problem when Aonung approached him and...

SMACK!

“Woah woah woah! What are you doing?!?”

Jake immediately pulled Neteyam behind his back as Neteyam’s ears buzzed, cheek and the corner of his lips stinging. Aonung had slapped him hard enough for his head to turn. Hearing the commotion, Neytiri, Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk had also emerged from the marui, standing behind Jake and Neteyam with sharp eyes. Seeing Neteyam’s bloodied lips, Neytiri hissed at Aonung. 

“You fish  lips! How dare you hurt my brother!” Lo’ak angrily shouted, planning to teach Aonung another lesson when Neteyam pulled him back. Although unwilling, Lo’ak shook his head and glared at Aonung as he stepped back. 

Neteyam gave his mother a glance, telling her he’s fine and he can handle it. Although worried, Neytiri took a step back and took Kiri and Tuk’s hand into hers,  allowing Jake and Neteyam to take control of the situation. 

It is clear to Neteyam what that slap meant. The reason why Aonung is so mad at him, as if ready to murder him any second. It was your face that appeared in Neteyam’s mind, your promise to him in your secret place. He closed his eyes and let out a laugh, joy filling his heart instead of anger. The pain in his cheek faded. It’s all worth it, because Aonung’s presence here only means you have made your move and fulfilled your promise to him. 

Neteyam’s laughter seems to provoke Aonung as he begins cursing, trying to hit Neteyam. Jake on the other hand looked at his oldest son, incredulous. Did he just laugh after getting slapped?

“This is between me and your son, Toruk Makto! He must fight me!”

“Dad, let me handle this. This is something I must do.”

Jake’s jaw tightened, when Neteyam motioned for him to step back, he hesitated. Neteyam had to urge him again before he stepped away, still worried about Neteyam. 

Neteyam stood face to face with Aonung, chin held high as he regarded that other man, not afraid to meet his furious eyes. “Let’s talk, brother.”

“I am not your brother!” Aonung hissed as he delivered another slap, but Neteyam dodged it easily. Seeing him unscathed, Aonung launched another hit but Tsireya had also arrived, pulling Aonung back with all her strength. “Aonung, stop! You must not resort to violence!”

“Let go sister! I must teach this kurkung a lesson!”

Tsireya cried out when Aonung accidentally elbowed her. Lo’ak seeing his girl being hurt, almost went forward again, but was glared at by his mother. Seeing Tsireya struggling, their clansmen finally regained their senses and held the flailing metkayina successor. Aonung hissed angrily at his captors, regretting that he lost focus a moment for hurting his beloved sister.

Finally held down, Aonung was no longer flailing as hard as before, but was still glaring daggers at Neteyam. The latter merely wiped his lips with his hand, not caring about the sting, seemingly in cloud nine.

“Tell us boy, what is the reason for your anger? What did my son do to get such a reaction from you?” Neytiri’s ears were pinned back, tail swishing side by side. She's displeased that her son got hurt when they didn't even have a clear idea of what warranted that slap. 

Aonung huffed, pointing at Neteyam with a vicious snarl. “He stole my mate! He stole ______ from me!”

Silence. For a moment, the breeze and the waves are the only noises that can be heard, before everyone breaks into a myriad of reactions. Jake closed his eyes as he groaned, feeling a headache coming. Neytiri merely sighed, having been aware of her son’s relations with you. Kiri muttered up a few “what the fuck”, Lo’ak nudging his brother with a triumphant grin, and Tuk who looked a bit confused.

Neteyam cleared his throat. “Aonung, calm down and listen to me. She’s not your mate yet. You haven’t made tsaheylu before Eywa. She also told me that you do not desire each other, and are merely fulfilling your duties to the clan. Now that she wants to dismiss the arrangement, you must respect her ideas. Whether it's me, or any other man, you must allow her to choose.”

Aonung sneered,  shaking his head as he started laughing uncontrollably. Tears began falling from his eyes as he stared at the sky. Whispering he said, “What does she even know about what I feel for her? She knows nothing! You hear me? She knows nothing!”

At this moment, Neteyam’s chest tightened. A sense of foreboding from the depths of his mind. His doubts that he tried to deny began surfacing again. “What do you mean by that?”

Before Aonung could say anything, you came running towards Neteyam’s side, shaking as you examined him all over. When you saw the bruise on his face, the tears you have been trying to control fell freely. Pain eroded your heart as traced his wounds with your fingers.

Seeing you, the panic in Neteyam's heart settled. He held you close in relief as he said, “I’m fine, ocean girl. Do not cry, for it makes me want to cry too. Shush, I’m fine.”

Looking at his solemn eyes, you nodded and took a deep breath. You wiped your tears and turned towards Aonung. He wasn’t looking at you, tears still falling from his eyes. It hurts you to see him like this, for Aonung has never shed tears all his life. You hurt him. You betrayed his trust, broke the promise the two of you made. 

But it must be done.

Walking towards him, you took his hands and held them tightly. It made him look at you, but you cannot read his eyes. “Aonung, I know what I did is something that cannot be easily forgiven. I threw all the grace that you and your family had given me, but I know in my heart that I do not regret what I did, and will never regret it for the rest of my life. I just want you to understand.”

He stared at you for a long while, taking in your features. You looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping he’d understand where you are coming from. 

“You’re so selfish, ______.”

“I’m sorry, Aonung. I truly am.”

“I do not need your apologies, _______. A broken trust cannot be mended by simple apologies.”

Wrenching his hands from your grasp, he pushed everyone away, not once does he ever look back. You stared at his back and sobbed as Neteyam took you in his arms silently, warm hands cupping your face as he wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“Hush now, ocean girl. We're still far from being done. You still have to face my family.” He teased, smiling at you as he pressed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Shut up, skxawng. I’m having a moment and you ruined it.”

Laughing, he shrugged. “I can’t just watch a pretty girl cry y’know? Makes me want to cry too.”

A/N: screaming crying punching kicking— ahhhhh last chapter remaining! this series has a lot of holes i have to mend after i finish the last chapter. but it's a rough draft so it's expected. anyways, feedback is very much appreciated! thank you very much, mwah!

[morganas-pendragons]

All That Time We Were Silent | Aemond Targaryen

This idea will not leave me alone. Violet Hill by Coldplay remains one of my favorite songs and I loved writing this concept for my first Aemond fic. Not to mention that every single Paris Paloma song is House of the Dragon coded. I don’t know. It makes me want to write a series for this pair (particularly one where SPOILERS SPOILERS Aemond dies at The God's Eye and it's this reader who kills him instead of Daemon -> put to The Fruits by Paris Paloma, because I have no self control and will use the same song and multiple different lyrics as titles)

The reader in this is female, and she's about two years older than Aemond. Also Rhaenys and Corlys' youngest daughter.

Anyway. This is set pre and post Rooks Rest with Velaryon!Reader, but it is Rhaenys’ daughter with Corlys because I can’t handle moms who lose all their children (ahem I’m looking at you Carol Peletier) 😭

***

"My sweet little dragon," Your mother caught your face in her hands, dark eyes staring down into your own as you stopped pacing in the halls of The Red Keep. It had only been mere hours since Alicent had delivered the news that your betrothal to Aemond was broken off. You were still so confused about why it had happened at all. Just mere days ago, you were gathering the courage to actually confess to Aemond how you felt. "Do not let that fire go uncontained."

"Mother-"

Rhaenys shook her head. Of her three children, you had always had the most spirit: You were far more likely than Laena and Laenor both to get yourself into trouble. You were the fire she believed would never stop burning.

"Listen to me. You are blood of the dragon, salt of the sea. You are a perfect split of myself and your father." Rhaenys hummed as she pulled you into her side, fingers gently winding through your hair as you hid your face in her shoulder. It was easy to forget that you were barely ten and eight. You also fiercely loved your parents. They were all you had left.

"I loved him, and she took him! What was wrong with me? What did I do?"

"I know. You did nothing. It is all the crown who pushes this upon you." Rhaenys knew better. She knew exactly why Alicent had taken it upon herself to split your betrothal to Aemond. You were getting too close. She couldn't have that happen to her precious son. "Above all, remember this. Fire can consume. That's what its purpose is. Please, sweetheart, do not let it take away those precious parts of you that the Hightowers have tried so hard to steal."

You often thought about how hard your mother tried to maintain your innocence after your brother and sister died. How your mother and father had trained you up as both salt and sea, fire and blood, determined that they would not lose another child while being involved with Rhaenyra's ascension.

Your mother had tried so hard to temper that anger down. It had worked, for a while.

Then Rook's Rest happened.

***

You found yourself positioned between Corlys and Rhaenys as Jace continued in his questioning of his mother after her sudden departure. Rhaenyra's explanation is as sound as she can make it - attempting for peace before plunging the realm into war - and you cannot find fault in her for going to see Alicent. The pursuance of peace is far more important then a war between dragons.

You dare not think about the end. How many dragons would be left?

How many people at this table would still be breathing?

"Cole's victories have only emboldened him." Rhaenys remarked. "He marches on Rook's Rest."

"Why Rook's Rest?" Rhaenyra questioned. "After Duskendale? It's but a small coastal keep."

You're not paying much attention to the remarks of old men spread across the table. You're not a strategist, not by any means, but you are itching for the opportunity to meet Aemond in the field. You have the second largest claimed dragon besides your mother, and you have the most experience in flight. You are a dragon rider.

You are capable of this.

More than anything, you want to make him pay for what he did to you. For how he hurt you. You want him to remember the pain you endured and the way he'd abandoned you. Left alone to face the phantoms remaining inside a little cliffside house by the sea. You'd visited it far more times then you cared to admit after your betrothal had been broken off.

You want to turn his silence - which has spread across the years, as the Prince has not attempted to send ravens since just before Viserys died - into begging, into screams that echo across a scorched battlefield as you plunge your sword into his heart.

It's the least of what he deserves.

"Send me." Jacerys interjected. Your heart sank as you watched the Prince's attempts at negotiating with his mother, eager to serve and eager to fight.

Rhaenyra would never let the loss of another son stand.

"No." Rhaenyra snapped.

"I will burn Coles lines and withdraw before King's Landing can raise the alarm-"

"You lack the experience."

You cleared your throat and stepped out of your space between your mother and father. "I will go," You said firmly. "I have the second largest dragon here besides Meleys and have experience. Nightshade was actively in battle prior to me claiming her. I also am able to evade Vhagar and Aemond. It could be a potential opportunity to take Aemond out of the-"

"No." Rhaenys' voice is clear and sharp as she stepped into your space, firm hand resting on your shoulder as your father nodded his confirmation of your mother's statement. "You must send me, Your Grace. Meleys is your largest dragon and no stranger to battle. I will meet Cole."

Both Corlys and yourself watched Rhaenys meet Rhaenyra's eyes before she released you from her grasp and began her pace toward the Dragon Mont. You could tell Rhaenyra did not want her Hand to depart.

You did not wish your mother to go either. Not with such threat of death looming over her.

"Mother!"

Rhaenys turned to gaze at you over her shoulder. Donned in her ceremonial armor and crown, The Queen Who Never Was softened at the sight of her daughter as you stormed into the Dragon Mont. Meleys whined at the sight of you. She could always acutely feel her rider's fierce devotion to her children. "Do not argue with this," Rhaenys said. "I will not let you meet your end in battle when you are the future of our House. Stay here, defend Rhaenyra, attend to your duty as a Targaryen. Do you understand me?"

"But Aemond-" You interjected, pausing as she reached underneath her shoulders and unfastened her cloak, tightening it around you until the dragon clasped just beneath her neck. You shuddered and leaned forward to rest your head on her shoulder. You would've been lying if you said you weren't terrified. "Please, Mother. Please come back."

Rhaenys smiled and tilted your head forward to press a kiss upon the crown, tightening her cloak around your shoulders before turning to Meleys. "We're off to battle again, old girl." She whispered. Identical eyes met your own before she grabbed the side of her saddle. "My littlest dragon..."

It was only then she remembered how young you were. How alone you were.

"Mother?"

"Avy jorrāelan, my Princess."

Tears burned your eyes as Meleys roared and took off through the mouth of the Mont.

You never saw her again.

***

Rhaenys turned her back to gaze upon Vhagar as Sunfyre descended and fell into the woods. It would've been the perfect opportunity to turn back. To retrieve you from Dragonstone, to have two of Rhaenyra's largest dragons take flight against Vhagar would nearly guarantee a victory for the Black Queen.

She did not do either.

The Queen Who Never Was ordered her dragon to attack, tied herself into her saddle, and took off through the smoke that had settled over Rook's Rest.

She dare not dwell upon her own memories of this dragon she was about to face. About Laena claiming Vhagar, about your first ride upon both Vhagar and Meleys, about your own claiming of Nightshade... of Laenor and Laena.

The nights she'd spent upon the window waiting for Corlys to come home, all three of her children with her.

She dare not dream of home.

***

"Do you ever wish it for us?"

"Wish what?" You asked, twirling your fingers through the ends of Aemond's hair where his head rested upon your chest. "All I wish for us is to take our dragons to the ends of the earth and spend the rest of my life indulging in the finest chocolates and wine with the man I love. That is what I wish."

Aemond snorted and curled himself deeper into your side. "To be able to properly express our love. I don't think my mother will ever let it happen. This. Us. She won't let it continue. Not with the threat of Rhaenyra sitting the Iron Throne-"

"I don't want to think about Rhaenyra, Aemond." You murmured. "I want to think about you and me. That's a far happier memory then to dwell upon all the times The Stranger has descended upon my family. I will not let the Gods take what we have from me too."

Aemond tried not to think of you when Vhagar descended upon Meleys, teeth clamped firmly into her neck while the other dragon roared.

He tried not to think of all the times he'd seen you with this dragon himself, with Vhagar, all the times he'd had those precious words on the tip of his tongue when he watched your joy in the face of such terrifying beasts.

If you love me.. won't you let me know?

Aemond could not risk it. Admitting to his growing feelings, his growing adoration, gave his mother another weapon to use against him. You were far too good of a thing in his life for Aemond to be okay with Alicent weaponizing that.

That had been why she'd broken off the betrothal. It wasn't her idea.

It was his.

If you love me, why'd you let me go?

He tried not to think of you as the world was enveloped in fire, and he tried not to think of you as he watched the Red Queen descend into the castle at Rook's Rest. She did not get back up.

He was told The Queen Who Never Was died that very same day.

***

It was Baela who delivered the news to you.

"Auntie?"

You turned your head to acknowledge the Princess and smiled, beckoning her deeper into your chambers. "Enter, sweet girl." The peace that had fallen upon you in your time waiting for your mother to come home dissipated once you recognized the tears brimming in Baela's eyes. "What is it?"

You tightened your fingers in your mother's cloak as Baela broke the news. You expected to be much more upset. Devastated. What you felt instead was that same anger that your mother had spent years tempering in you begin creeping to the surface. You were most certainly not your father and mother's daughter.

Maybe that anger came from deeper in your family line. Maybe it was generational. Maybe all Targaryens harbored anger like this.

"She died a warrior." You murmured. You wanted to believe that. You did believe that. Your mother would have fought valiantly against whatever foe dare face her. "She died a true dragon rider. We can only wish the same for ourselves."

"What is to be done now?" Baela asked.

Your thoughts automatically went to your father. Your father, waiting for a wife who would never come home. Your father residing upon the Driftwood Throne in a castle that would resemble a tomb, for none of its occupants remained. They were all dead. All that remained of them was their memory.

"I need to go home. To see your grandsire," You said quietly. "The loss of my mother will devastate us both-"

"Has it not already?"

You had to consider her question thoroughly before being able to answer it. When your brother and sister had died, it had taken you a significantly longer period of time than your mother and father to adjust. To be able to properly allow yourself to grieve. How was there time for the luxury of grief when the obligation of being the Heir to the Driftwood Throne was being pressed down upon you?

"Not yet. My anger will get the better of me first." You sighed and squeezed the girl's shoulders before releasing her. "And then the grief will surely follow."

***

Rhaenyra called you into the room with the Painted Table some hours later. You were not ready to hear her. Just as you'd said, Baela watched Rhaenyra attempt to offer consolation and comfort in the face of your mother's loss.

This was, in your words, three people that Rhaenyra Targaryen had taken from you. You would not allow your father to be the next.

"Princess-"

"No!" You yelled. All the voices in the room died as Rhaenyra's head snapped upward, blue eyes meeting your own from across the painted table as you stormed forward. "I refuse participate in a war like this one. I don't care if your legitimacy has been contested. My mother was the only reason I allowed for myself and Nightshade to take part. I will not risk the future of my House or my dragon for the sake of the Iron Throne."

You knew you were being irrational. It was easier to be irrational and angry for the loss of your mother and direct it at Rhaenyra then come to your second most devastating realization: Despite how much you still loved Aemond, you were going to have to be the one to kill him. You were going to have to be the one to kill him because he was the one who took your mother from you.

Right now, you had one goal in mind. One that you fully intended to see it through.

"Princess, where are you going?"

"Home. I'm going back to Driftmark to deliver news to my Lord father of the passing of my mother. It needs to be me."

"And if the Queen has need of you?"

You flippantly waved your hand over your shoulder. "Don't! The only time you need to have me involved, Your Grace, is when you need someone who can successfully face Aemond and Vhagar. When that happens, I want to be the one to end it." You turned back around in the hallway to stare at the Black Queen's Council, your nieces and nephews, the Queen Who Had Yet To Be. "He killed my mother. I want retribution for that act."

You'd rather she be the Queen Who Never Was. If anyone deserved the right of being Queen, it was Rhaenys.

"When it's time to kill Aemond, it should be me. Call upon me then. Until that point comes? You are on your own."

[authors note: I'm seriously considering adding a second part just for the fact that I have GOT to write Seasmoke claiming Addam LOL]

[igncrxntripley]

their secret weapon pt. 5

synopsis: brooks is in the crowd to watch Y/N’s match, but The Judgement Day is not thrilled when they see him. 

tags: violence, chair shots, good ole’ wrasslin’, angst. fem!reader, ex!brooks, poly!judgement day

A/N: i was gonna wait but i needed to put this out there bc i’m a sick individual...can i just say the love and support on not just this writing but others i’ve posted has been amazing and it makes my day when people message and send requests? literally ty all so much, i would kiss you all on the foreheads if i could 

mentions: @babybatlover​ @ripleyswhore​

Y/N spent the rest of her time backstage before her match trying to relax. Her conversation with Brooks and the reactions of her partners were doing little to nothing to ease her nerves, but she knew she just needed to go out and do what she did best. She spent some time to herself getting ready before the others came back, and she smiled up at them gently as she laced her boots. Rhea took an eyeliner pen and did her signature TJD underneath one of Y/N’s eyes and Finn stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders to help loosen her up. “So this Brooks character…” Finn began. “He’s going to be out there watching your match?”

As Rhea finished her makeup, Y/N nodded and rolled her shoulders as Finn loosened her up. “He’ll be out there somewhere. And I’m asking you guys not to cause trouble with him.” Dominik scoffed as he tied a purple bandana around his neck. “We can’t make any promises, but we’ll think about it.” He smirked. Y/N wasn’t about to let her partners make a fool of themselves at ringside, so she turned to look at Dom with a small frown. “I’m serious, Dominik. I understand why you guys want me to distance myself from things in my past but I just…h-he’s a good guy.” She said softly. 

For being the largest of the group, Damian was also the biggest softy. He immediately took note of Y/N’s reaction and gave Dom a light slap to the arm. “She has a match soon and you really think this is the time to act like that?” He scolded Dom, who blushed and put his hands up in defense. Rhea rolled her eyes at the two of them and moved to finish getting herself ready. “We’ll behave as long as he behaves.” She said, deciding that would be the end of the conversation. “And you two need to quit fucking around in the corner, we have places to be.” Y/N closed her eyes as Rhea mothered everyone in the room, working to calm herself down and focus on her upcoming match against Candace LeRae. 

Eventually, The fivesome began to make their way to gorilla for Y/N’s match. She was in the middle, Damian and Dominik to her left and Rhea and Finn to her right. Damian and Rhea were definitely the most protective of Y/N and always placed themselves right next to her when possible. She adjusted her pink denim jacket one more time, placed her cherry lollipop in her mouth, and hit the cues with her partners as their lights and music hit. There was something about coming out to the crowds in this new persona, something about the energy that shifted when they all walked in a room…it made Y/N feel incredible. She could barely put it into words how it all felt. But she needed to channel that energy, as this match was huge for her in claiming her spot in the Women’s Division on Raw while also giving Brooks a show in the audience. 

When Brooks said he was going to be front and center, he wasn’t kidding. As The Judgement Day came down to the ring, she immediately took note of where he was and smiled at him; where Y/N thought she would be nervous seeing Brooks during this match, she now felt his presence comforting her. The other four also took note of him and where he was in the audience, but Y/N was able to distract them and have them stand elsewhere during the match. They all begrudgingly did what she asked, but still couldn’t promise they wouldn’t get into any mischief down the road. 

Truth be told, Y/N was also going to cause some chaos and rile them up. They couldn’t control her every move and she was going to continue being the same character she always had been, even before The Judgement Day came into her life. Y/N took the lollipop from her mouth and walked to where Brooks was standing, smirking as she held it out for him and placed the candy into his mouth. The audience around them cheered, having been aware of the history between the two, and Y/N went into the ring like nothing happened. The faces on her partners were not the most thrilled they’d ever been, but she knew she could defend her decision backstage if they had words about it. 

Once the match started, Y/N and Candace were both on a roll. Candace’s acrobatic, more athletic moves were a nice contrast to Y/N’s harsher striking and submission style. Rhea, Dominik, Damian, and Finn all kept to themselves at ringside and even stayed on the other side away from Brooks. But that didn’t erase the fact that every so often they would glare at him; at one point Rhea was even mockingly waving at him to get some kind of reaction. But Brooks wasn’t giving in, he stayed focused on the match and cheered Y/N on while he kept the lollipop in his mouth. Every so often, when she wasn’t looking at her partners, she would look for Brooks and he’d give her a reassuring nod and smile. This was exactly what she needed. At one point though when Y/N fell out of the ring after a pretty nasty hit, Brooks was front and center at the barricade making sure she was okay. 

“Baby, you good?” He asked, concern lacing his voice as he held his hand out for you to get back up. Without a second thought Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, smiling like the giddy girl she was whenever he’d help her in the past. Fuck, I can’t let him go. She thought to herself. Y/N turned her head though, when her four partners saw was Brooks was doing and made her way to the other side of the ring. “Don’t even think about it.” She told them, shaking her head and letting go of Brooks’s hand. “It’s fine, just go back over there.” Of course, Rhea wasn’t listening. She continued to step closer to them until she was standing in front of Brooks, even though Y/N was trying to keep her away. “If I were you, I’d stay away from our girl.”

Brooks shook his head and laughed in Rhea’s face. “She may be your girl now, but she was mine when no one else gave a fuck about her.” Y/N wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore but was now focused on the three boys. “I’m serious, go!” She knew she couldn’t handle being distracted like this, so she got back in the ring to continue her match. But when she did, Candace was ready to end the entire match and swept under her feet to bring Y/N to the ground. She was going to take advantage of her opponent being distracted, and once Y/N was back on the ground Candace climbed the ropes for a moonsault. Somehow Y/N was able to kick out at the two count, and that brought the attention of The Judgement Day and Brooks back to the match. “I’m not finished with you.” Rhea pointed at Brooks before following the boys back to the other side of the ring. “Come on, Y/N! Get up!” Her partners started to cheer as she took her sweet old time getting to her feet again. 

After everything that just occurred, Y/N was raging. Five people she loved and cared about almost made her lose one of the biggest matches of her career thus far, and she wasn’t about to let any of them live it down. Once she was on her feet again, Y/N started to pace and watch Candace’s every last move. “Get up!” She yelled at her opponent, standing in the corner of the ring to watch her. Once Candace was also up on her feet, Y/N came at her with a spear that practically flipped her inside out and positioned herself for a submission move Damian had been working on with her. Almost identical to a sharpshooter but with a slightly different leg position, Y/N locked Candace into the hold and put all of the pressure on her back. From there, it was only a matter of seconds before Candace tapped and Y/N was announced as the winner. 

She dropped Candace back down onto the mat and smiled as she caught her breath; Y/N didn’t even realize that her partners had made their way back over to Brooks in the crowd and immediately began to attack him. Brooks didn’t even have enough time to defend himself, as Damian lifted him over the barricade and they started to kick him while he was on the ground. “What are you doing?” Y/N yelled from the ring, watching as Finn picked Brooks up and threw him into the ring for everyone to see what they were doing.  “Step aside, Princess. He needs to be taught a lesson.” Rhea warned, stepping in front of Y/N as if to block her from getting to Brooks. But Y/N was small and quick, so she was able to get around Rhea and stand between Brooks and the other members of the group. “Don’t hurt him, okay? He didn’t do anything!” She begged, her hands up and Brooks gently reaching out to hold her ankle as a way of thanking her. 

The four of them were fuming. Finn was the first to speak up as he watched what was going on. “Remember what we told you, Y/N.” He warned softly. Brooks began to slowly get himself back to his feet and stood behind Y/N, a gentle hand on her waist this time. “Think about what’s best for you. Think of all we’ve done for you.” Finn said again. Dominik was already cracking his knuckles at the sight of someone else touching their girl, and steam was coming from Damian’s ears. No one touched their girl, and she was only making them more upset the longer she went without making a decision. 

Y/N looked back and forth between Brooks and The Judgement Day. Finn was right; the four of them had done so much for her and every day showed how much they truly cared about her even if some of their actions were flawed. They took her under their wing when barely anyone else in the company gave a shit about her. But on the other hand, Brooks had always served as the person she could confide in when she was struggling. He was the first person who made her feel beautiful in and outside of the ring. But where was he when she needed someone to stand up for her in NXT? Where was Brooks when Y/N doubted herself and debated leaving this company? She was stuck between two parts of her life, and they were all expecting her to make her decision. 

As the crowd roared around them, telling Y/N what decision to make, she slowly turned her back to The Judgement Day and wrapped her arms around Brooks’s shoulders in a tight hug. Y/N buried her face in his neck as he picked her up, his body relaxing into hers and holding her as tight as he could. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” He said in her ear as they slowly stepped away from the four (clearly pissed) individuals in the ring. Brooks even put his hat back on her head like they always did when she won matches; he was just happy to see Y/N was picking the right side. 

However, he had no clue what was coming his way. 

Brooks gently placed Y/N back on her feet and kissed her forehead before glaring at The Judgement Day from over her shoulder. He didn’t even say another word to them, even though they were already hopping out of the ring and climbing underneath it to find whatever weapons they could. Brooks protectively put Y/N behind him, watching Damian and Finn who had stayed in the ring and started to slowly move closer to the two of them while Rhea and Dominik tossed a couple chairs into the ring. Y/N being behind Brooks was the perfect opportunity for her to make it clear which side she was on, because she quickly dropped to her knees and delivered a low blow to Brooks. 

Y/N’s four partners immediately began to smile at her; Rhea was dying of laughter, pointing at Brooks as he fell to the canvas holding his manhood. Y/N looked down at him, his hat still on her head, and her own sadness and anger written all over her face at the decision she’d made. She had to prove herself to her partners, and that meant trusting them and their plan for her. Once Brooks was back on the ground the boys began to attack him again, and this time Dominik pulled Y/N into a hug as they watched. At one point when Brooks got up on his knees to hopefully defend himself, Rhea delivered a chair shot to his back. 

The four of them turned to Y/N once they all had a turn giving Brooks a piece of their mind. Damian held out a chair to her and smiled. “Finish it off, princesa. End it.” He told her. And while Y/N didn’t immediately take the chair, she eventually did and walked in a circle around Brooks’s writhing body. “Where were you when I needed you?” Y/N asked Brooks as she looked down at him. “You didn’t care about me. You never did.” The look on Brooks’s face said otherwise, but Y/n knew she needed to end this. She looked at each of her partners before lifting the chair up and delivering the harshest chair shot she could manage to Brooks’s upper body. 

She dropped the chair before taking off Brooks’s hat and dropping it onto his body, wiping away the one singular tear that had rolled down her cheek. The Judgement Day rolled out of the ring five deep, Damian pulling Y/N to his chest as they walked up the ramp to go backstage and Rhea continuing to taunt Brooks from a distance. They were all proud of Y/N and she was proud of herself, but the next step of this process was grieving the relationships she had to let go of in order to follow the plan. While The Judgement Day was prepared for that to happen, Y/N had no clue what was about to happen. 

[novacqnes]

omg could u write an au fic where both ellie and the fem!reader are detectives working on a case but like uhm, they’re also- married 🤭 and in one scenario they are undercover in a club and the reader has to act flirty with the bad guy and so ofc ellie is jealous…… that means yes. jealous s e x. uhm. please. i just- want to imagine ellie in a suit LMAO

poison // ellie williams

warning: angst, smut, jealousy, top!ellie, squirting, fingering, strap on usage (fem receiving), mentions of crime (prostitution, human trafficking, drugs)

pairing: ellie williams x fem reader

a/n: …..this is pure genius. i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this ask since you’ve sent it in. i definitely need to delve into detective ellie fics for my own peace of mind. also i don’t usually put a wc in requested fics but this one is kinda lengthy so keep that in mind—

ellie saw red. thick crimson splotches crept into the corners of her vision making it nearly impossible to see— let alone think clearly. green eyes narrowed into the sight on the opposite side of the bar. there, a man and a woman sat playfully bantering back and forth. their words were drowned out by the obnoxiously loud music, but the image was enough for ellie to get the picture. 

to most he was known as philip grant, a pompous ass responsible for running one of the largest prostitution and drug rings in the country. the man was balding, pale, and stocky— he couldn’t have been over 5’2, yet his arrogance preceded him. ellie observed silently. his lips, cracked and brittle, pressed into a menacing grin as he fixated on the woman before him. 

jealousy stirred inside ellie the longer she watched the woman— her wife flirt with grant. the long touches, dramatic laughter, and seductive eyes made her stomach turn, yet there was nothing she could do besides watch. any sort of interference would blow your cover, jeopardizing the lives of everyone in the club— including you. thus ellie opted for bitter jealousy, submerging herself in it as she did her best to trust you. after all, you needed to find some way to nail him or he’d walk free once again.

“i see him, it’s the last table to your right,” ellie whispered, adjusting the buttons of her coat. the two of you sat at a table just a few feet away, dressed to blend in with the elite to attend the club. she wore a jet-black suit that conformed to her body perfectly. yet your focus was pulled in the opposite direction.

 “el, we’ve got to get something from him tonight.”

“i know.” her breath hitched, pressure mounted onto both of your shoulders as time crept by with no true plan. by midnight philip grant would still be a free man and the possibility of changing that was growing scarce. you needed to act fast and without a call to action, ellie was without choices. she reached for her gun, sliding it into her jacket as she rose from her seat.

immediately you hopped up blocking her path, “what the hell are you doing?”

“…..i’m gonna go talk to him?” ellie muttered, her cheeks burning bright pink. shooting the man was not an option. the arrest needed to be swift and quick— which meant no guns nor endangering customers. you swiped the pistol from ellie’s hands, discreetly placing it in your bag. 

you pulled her back towards the table, “you can’t just walk up to him. the moment he sees you coming he’s gonna run— and it’ll be months till we get an opportunity like this again.”

“so what’s your idea?” she sighed, her hands thrown up in defeat. carefully your eyes lingered on the man for just a moment. dozens of girls swarmed, some from the club, others had come with him. they hung on grant’s every word— so much so that if he asked them to jump off a cliff they’d do it in heartbeat. 

“i’ll go.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” ellie sputtered, her eyes doubling in size. 

“listen to me, philip grant is an asshole— a chauvinistic pig that gets off on exploiting women. all i need to do is stroke his ego a bit and he’ll start talking.”

you were right, and ellie knew it but she didn’t like it. she loathed this part of the job. the side that seemingly blurred the lines between reality and fiction. it required you to play a character, and put on a persona in exchange for just a sliver of information. it was something you were good at, yet ellie still detested it. 

“i can do this, alright? i promise if things start to go south i’ll signal and we’ll send the cops in— now tell me, how do i look?” despite your adamance ellie was more than hesitant. yet the plan was already in motion, and there was no time to stand in the way of it.  

“beautiful,” she whispered, allowing the pit deep inside of her to fester. you shot your wife a quick grin, placing a soft look on your face before adjusting your dress. then you whipped out a dark red lipstick that was sure to captivate grant’s attention. 

in one large breath, you sauntered over to the opposite side of the room. as you approached the man a sly grin took hold of your lips. plastering itself there the more he eyed you up and down. his gaze felt like venom. your stomach churned with nausea as it intensified, sending a cold chill through your bones. nevertheless you took the seat in front of him, outstretching your hand.

“mr grant, right? i’m elora.” 

philip grant was an asshole, in every sense of the word. simply seeing you with him was enough to evoke more than jealousy from ellie. she couldn’t hear anything over the loudspeakers so she had to rely on sight, which seemed to worsen her regret. she despised the way he looked at you— as if you were prey, something to be conquered. and you had no choice but to play into it. 

she watched as your arms wrapped around his, pulling him closer to your body. in a matter of minutes, you’d manage to blend in with his women seamlessly, cooing at the man’s words. ellie’s felt nauseated as you doted on the man, pushing the boundary in order to draw more information. she was sure that if she stood by any longer she’d vomit. 

desperately she sought out a sign— anything to signal that she could arrest grant but nothing came. the music ruined any possibility of eavesdropping so she had to opt for visuals and they only made her even more jealous. she fiddled with the silver band on finger, her gaze narrowing on grant’s hand. it trailed from her pocket and to your arm as he slipped you a paper, leaning in dangerously close to whisper.

ellie wanted to gag, his lips nearly brushed your ear. although it was small compared to what she’d witnessed it was enough for her to radio in the cops surrounding the small bar. within a matter of seconds, she stormed over to the two of you, whipping out her handcuffs. 

“wait el—“ but your protests fell on deaf ears. at that moment dozens of officers swarmed the building, closing in. philip tried to push past yet ellie’s hand sent him crashing back down. his face turned beet red and ellie towered over him, more powerful than you’d ever seen her. 

“philip grant you are under arrest for 18 counts of human sex trafficking and the murders of rose and ruby daniels,” she said sternly, locking the metal around his wrists. bewildered, his eyes found yours as if to plead for help yet he was baffled by the lack of surprise on your face. 

“elora? y-you know her? lying bitch you set me up,” he spat, malice laced in each word. he opened his mouth to continue yet you count register a thing. instead, your focus found its way back to ellie. you watched as she passed grant along to the cops, the solemn glare in her eyes remaining. this was a win for both of you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the looming tension that hung over your heads. 

“what’d you find out?” her words were short and she refused to spare you a glance for more than a moment at a time. 

“he told me where he keeps the rest of the girls.” you slipped a sheet of paper into her palm. in it was a full outline of grant’s businesses which was guaranteed to work against him in court. despite uncovering the piece of evidence that would bury him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of annoyance radiating from ellie.

“what?” she asked, growing restless under your prying eyes.

“i told you to wait,” you faltered, “he was gonna tell me about murders before—“

“we got what we came for, y/n. i wasn’t going to sit back and watch you flirt with him all night.” the last thing you wanted to do was fight— especially not about philip grant. yet ellie wasn’t in a position to reason with you. she saw what she wanted too— and that was you flirting with someone that wasn’t her. 

“listen i’m gonna leave this in evidence… just meet me in the car.” with that ellie turned sharply on her heel not even allowing you the chance to respond. still, you did your best to remain cheerful, making a mental note to apologize once you got home. hopefully, the events of the night would be long forgotten for both of your sakes. 

however, this was the opposite of what happened— the car ride back home was dreadful. ellie hardly even looked your way. vivid details of the ordeal seemed to haunt her. the shameless image of you fawning over grant seared its way into her memory and it only upset her even more. it felt like a wall was being built between the two of you and you had no way of tearing it down. unfortunately, when you got home it was no different.

ellie stormed into the apartment ahead, leaving you trailing behind. she made her way into the bedroom and the anger was detectable even from the kitchen. 

“you hungry? i could make something or we could order in?” you called, only to be greeted by the distinct sounds of silence.

you tried a second time yet all of your attempts amounted to nothing. exasperated, you followed pervading noise all the way towards the room down the hall. there ellie sat on a large bed— the place the two of you shared your most intimate moments. on most days it acted as a safe haven but now it seemed more treacherous than ever. 

the air was thick, presumably from the budding tension that only seemed to stir as you approached your wife. her green eyes buzzed with a certain type of poison— jealousy.

“please don’t tell me you’re giving me the silent treatment because of philip grant,” you muttered, shifting under her fierce gaze. it ignited something inside of you that was utterly unfamiliar. it was ardent passion in a way that you’d never experienced. 

she rose from the mattress, stepping towards you until she was just a few inches away. the heat was palpable and it took shape right in between the two of you, blending in with the jealousy that oozed from ellie.

“you know what i hate most about this job?” she whispered, her voice light and delicate like a feather. you hadn’t realized it then but you were just barely touching the wall. and you feared if ellie stepped any closer you’d be right against it. 

“seeing you with other people.” 

you began, “but it doesn’t mean anything—

“did you see the way he looked at you? hm?” she moved towards you, gradually sealing the distance between your bodies. the cold surface of the wall pressed up against your back, offering you little comfort as ellie spoke. her words were pointed and direct, you could almost make out the hurt behind them but it was overshadowed by a more intense feeling. 

“he wanted to fuck you. jesus y/n….the guy was practically frothing at the mouth the entire time and i had to sit there and watch it.” ellie seethed. she placed each of her arms on the opposite of your body, caging you in as her body stood firm against you. thus with every movement, no matter how minuscule you were able to feel the muscles that lay under ellie’s heavy suit. each one molding against you just perfectly.

“can’t really blame 'em’ though, right?” ellie leaned into your ear, pressing her body against yours with much more fervor. she left soft kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck when you felt something prod at your thigh. you bit back a gasp, jerking against the wall as you looked down. 

“you’re just so beautiful….” she cooed, a sharp tinge glimmering in her eyes. her words were gentle although her body told an entirely different story— and you would soon experience the magnitude of it. she hooked her calloused hands under your chin pulling you into a heated kiss. your hands roamed her body stopping at her crotch where you felt a strong bulge. immediately you went to unzip her pants but quickly stopped by ellie herself. 

“n-no— not yet. get on the bed.” 

you followed her orders without complaint. you took your spot on the bed as ellie watched, slowly peeling from her clothes. you followed suit stripping down to nothing but your underwear. once again, you reached for her yet she remained planted in her spot, desire burning in her eyes. you ached to have her near you— to have ellie inside of you.

“i need you ellie— please,” you whined, slowly soaking the thin piece of cloth over your core. 

“yeah?” 

dazed from anticipation you nodded mumbling incoherently. your hands trailed to your pussy, circling over the soft flesh as your wife hovered over you blinded by intense jealousy. she wanted nothing more than to see you beg. more as a reminder to herself than to you. no matter what happened during a case— you were hers and the simple sight of you pleading was enough to confirm that. 

“where do you need me?” ellie teased, running her fingertips along the side of your thigh. she brought her index finger to your underwear, sliding it underneath.

“in—inside me.” you shivered at the cold contact, gripping the sheets as she continued. one worked on your clit, teasing the nub as one more made its way into your cunt. ellie couldn’t help but moan at the feeling— your walls clamped around her digits desperately as she curved them. pressing up into the spongy tissue that was your g-spot. 

“o—oh shit…..”

you pressed your eyes closed relishing in the warmth that spread across your entire lower body. thick beads of sweat formed on your skin the more it persisted. ellie’s hand was slick with your fluids but it wasn’t enough. she picked up the pace drawing intense pleas from your lips that replicated music— yet she wanted to do more.

“tell me what you want, y/n.” her tone was so assertive and it made your head spin. you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to look back. frenzied short hairs clung to the side of her face and her cheeks were flushed, it all read of sweet determination. like she had something to prove. 

“i want you to f-fuck me— with it,” you purred, your hands traveling back to the now-exposed dildo that sat in between her legs. ellie leaned down to kiss you once more before removing her fingers from your heat and bringing them to your lips. in one swift motion, ellie moved her body on top of yours, situating herself comfortably in between your legs. she kissed down your chest, cupping her hands over your toys as she brought each one to her mouth, feverishly sucking. 

she sat up, teasingly running the silicone over your pussy coating the tip. the sensation caused you to jerk back, sending a smirk to ellie’s plush lips. after moments she moved forward, filling you to the hilt.

“is this what you wanted?”

“yes—yes it’s fucking perfect el,” you cried, hot tears welling in the corners of your eyes. she pursued a relentless pace, slamming her hips against you. the rapid movement spread the pleasure all throughout your body, leaving you nearly speechless. 

strings of obscenities filled ellie’s ears as she sunk into you with each merciless stroke. your legs shook from the impact, desperately wrapping against her. the bed rocked along with the two of you, crashing into the wall as ellie fucked you.

you clasped onto her face, cupping it in your palms as you brought her face down. she pressed her forehead against yours, her pants mixing with moans and the filthy sounds of your pussy. 

“don’t stop, fuck me ha—“ your whines became caught in your throat as ellie pulled out, gently moving you into your stomach. she moved behind you, taking her place as she continued the fervent pace— this time with much more aggression. 

your cheeks rubbed harshly against the fabric of the blanket. you weren’t given much time to adjust to the next position before that same pit pleasure took shape inside of you. and it strengthened with each taunting thrust of ellie’s hips. 

she knew you were close, she could practically feel it in the way your body writhed underneath her. thus her movements had much more vigor and purpose behind them. she needed to bring you to unravel and she was going to be the one to do it. thus ellie placed a firm hand by your head to stabilize herself. using her free one to toy with your sensitive clit. 

“close aren’t you?” she hummed. 

“….please let me come” your voice grew weary and your body stiff. streams of pleasure rippled through your body and in a matter of seconds your vision was distorted by black spots. the sweet poisonous pit in your stomach unraveled, drawing deep loud moans from your lips. 

ellie moved from your body. watching in awe as you soaked the white sheets beneath you, drenching them in fluids. shockwaves tore through your body beautifully leaving you a mess on the bed you shared with your wife. she left soft kisses all over your face and neck, slowly easing from your high. 

“so beautiful…..”

as your vision cleared you gazed up at ellie, who hovered over you. the fierceness in her gaze was long gone, replaced with concern as she looked back at you.

neither of you said anything about the ordeal, in fact, you’d almost forgotten about it. instead, you were struck with fatigue. dozing off as ellie doted on you. she removed the wet sheets from the bed, replacing them with new comfortable ones for you to sleep on.

she took her spot snug behind you, burying her face into the crevice of your neck as she basked in your warmth. she adored these moments. especially the intimate one’s where she was able to see aspects of you that only she’d have the pleasure of experiencing. and it was all the reassurance she needed. 

[wolven91]

Easedropping

Nick opened the door to the train's empty cabin and settled himself into the seat. He had a brief moment where he allowed himself to hope that he'd get the cabin to himself for the journey, but one look out the window at the packed platform dispelled that notion as soon as it appeared.

The mag-lift train would set off shortly and after an evening's travel would be on the opposite side of the planet along with thousands of others.

The cabin could comfortably house four passengers, but that was for four of the alien passengers, the big ones. With Nick being a human, he'd actually have ample room for himself as humans were not the largest species out here. The man could have stretched out of the padded seat that he was in and never touched the walls.

With a wince, he removed one of translators from his ear and placed it onto the table in front of himself. Nick's ear was aching, he must have put it in at a weird angle or something. Leaving it out would rest his lobe and he'd just put it back in as and when.

That's when the cabin door slid open to reveal a black and white furred taurian with a thick gold ring through the end of her muzzle, her horns barely fit in the doorway.

"Ey! We got three spaces in 'ere!" The bull-like taurian called back down the corridor outside the cabin.

"Hey can we- oh, you ain't going to understand me." The taurian started before trailing off while glancing at the unused translator on the table. Nick could understand her however as his second translator in his other ear was working perfectly fine, albeit hidden from her view. The taurian was joined by her compatriots moments later.

A black furred felinoid and a similarly black furred ursidain's face appeared on either side of the taurian's shoulders, all of them curious as to their friend's find.

"Jackpot!" Bellowed the ursidain gleefully and shoved past the hesitating taurian, who was sent stumbling into the cabin. The giant she-bear sat heavily on the same bench as Nick causing him to be bodily lifted off the cushion briefly as the ursidain displaced. He landed and found himself sliding towards the Ursidain as she warped the bench with her far greater mass. When he touched against the side of her thigh, it gave easily, her black fur rolling against him. It was warm to the touch and was not missed by her either. Thankfully, she didn't make the wrong assumption and pointedly ignored him.

Re-seating himself, Nick watched as the Felinoid with pitch black fur that rippled with a glossy sheen, settled herself opposite the human with the table between them and finally, the taurian, with a shrug, settled into the remaining seat before closing the door behind her.

"I hope you don't mind us sharing." The felinoid mentioned lightly, but the ursidain broke in with a chuckle.

"Ah, he can't understand ya, even some of your words are even out of his hearing range without that thing in." The bear-like alien explained to the cat-like alien.

Nick did consider correcting them, but instead simply remained quiet. If they asked him a direct question, he'd respond. Otherwise, he'd settle himself into a long session of people watching while pretending to look out the window. He didn't miss the fact that the felinoid had 'accidently' started resting her foot against his leg after crossing her legs.

"Aw look at him. By The Feast, I love humans." Rumbled the ursidain's voice from above and to his side.

"Got to admit, there's something about them I like too." Replied the taurian, nodding in Nick's peripheral vision.

The felinoid made an 'mmm' noise as she continued to stare at the human. Nick tried to avoid letting on he could see out of the corner of his eye how she was completely focused on him. He kept his face completely still.

"It's how small they are for me. Actually, a bunch of folk I know of feel the same. Humans just look cute and small. They need protecting!" Claimed the black mountain to his left, she was quite animated, her thick arms, as wide as Nick's torso swept through the air with ease as she spoke.

"Naah! They're sexy!" Countered the taurian as a retort. "Look at him! Dressed all provocatively. No horns and no headband to cover it?! Goddess." He felt another set of eyes staring at him now.

Nick was almost certain the side of his head was about to start smoking under the intensity of their combined focus.

"And! They're really weird." Nick briefly frowned at the taurian's claim, but smoothed his features with, quite frankly, incredible skill, he if did say so himself. "They're all the opposite way round. Their males act like females! And, and! I heard! They like sex and what we look like, just as strongly as we feel it." Claimed the bull excitedly.

Ah, Nick understood now. Taurians had a gender-norm flip when compared to humans. The males and females were satisfied with their stereotypical roles but found humans to be quite fascinating as a human of their opposite gender, suddenly, (stereotypically) enjoyed the same things they did. The males had a maze of protocols and rules surrounding them, whereas the females had the libido of a high school jock.

It had been described by a fellow human who had spent time in taurian space that the female taurians often acted like, quote, 'lads lads lads' and were quite oblivious to what was 'proper' when interacting with the males of their race as the males were far more 'prim and proper'.

"Mm, I honestly don't mind. Apparently, humans like us anyway. Did you know they worshipped us?" The felinoid stated, finally breaking off her stare to glance at the other two occupants of the cabin.

"What?!" "Rubbish!" Came the two replies.

"Oh it's quite true. Even in their ancient times, they had entire murals built to give homage to our visage." Said the Panther-esk feline, as she brushed the curve of her claws against her fur and inspected them closely.

"Even to the point of its destruction, on Sol-3 they kept and loved feral versions of ourself right up until the end" Cats?! This one believed that cats counted as worship towards the felinoid race? Well it come cases... honestly... he could see how they could take the wrong message away.

Nick didn't enjoy hearing about Earth, it was still a bit raw for him, but he couldn't ask them to stop now. But he needn't have worried, the panther continued, pressing on.

"What I find fun, is that most humans believe most felinoids they meet are female."

Nick resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows. It was true, he'd never seen a male felinoid before, the ship full of them that turned up at his station was entirely female... right?

"They don't realise that our genders are just very similar to one another. A surprise for a human to learn if they hadn't asked beforehand!" The panther chuckled. "Apparently the adventurous ones can be quite shocked."

"Haha, yeah like they... wait.. you're female right?" Asked the ursidain.

"No, I'm male? By the seven truths; you're joking right?"

The pregnant silence was tortuous as Nick resist the urge to burst out laughing. He had to bite his tongue hard enough until he was sure it would bleed.

"My god you're as bad as they are!" Accused the felinoid with an outstretched finger.

The cabin fell into silence again. After a few minutes, the panther spoke once more.

"I'd let this one believe whatever he wanted. I've spent the last ten minutes trying to press my leg against his so I can feel his warmth..." She, Nick correct himself, He was speaking to the window now, but the felinoid was still addressing his companions.

"If he'd let me curl up next to him, I'd do whatever it took. Tucking and all."

The taurian chuckled.

"Some of them are quite open. We're going to be all sleeping in here... maybe you can try and say you're freezing? Ham it up, do a bit of a shiver?" The scheming black and white alien suggested, hatching a scheme.

The panther alien scratched at his chin as he considered.

"As long as I'm my demure self, he might be for it."

"I'll just say we all spoon together! I wanna' hug him and squeeze 'im." Declared the black bear. "I'll just make out we're all cold!"

The taurian looked frustrated.

"Two points. One, he'll be lost to your tits and two, what about me?! I want a turn! I'm fine not spooning, that's not my thing, but it means I'm left out!" She crossed her arms over her muscled chest and glared at the door in a huff. With a glance, Nick felt she was inches away from kicking the door in a huff. Nick noted the other two were looking at each other and having a conversation with their eyebrows in silence.

It wrapped up with the felinoid nudging his head towards the door.

"Well.. what if we 'go for food'? It'll give you an hour or two to work him over?" Suggested the ursidain, 'subtly' tilting her head.

"How? Just drop to my knees and suggest he lower his pants? Make kissy faces? His translator is out! Oh yeah; that'll work." The taurian huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Do you want the chance or not?" Demanded the felinoid.

A moment ticked by.

"Yes."

A few moments more and the ursidain's knee was slapped by the felinoid as he got up and moved out of the cabin, gracefully moving despite the rocking of the moving train. The black furred mountain was less graceful, wobbling and stomping when her balance was found wanting.

The door closed and Nick was left alone with the black and white cow, who idly toyed with the ring the glittered in the setting sunlight.

The man looked round 'idly' and as naturally as he could. When he had her attention, Nick gave a tight lipped, but hopefully warm smile to her.

Nick had to admit she was attractive, he probably wouldn't have said no if she had approached him, but he wasn't sure how to react to such a candid conversation.

"Say.. you-.. ah.. you still don't understand me." She started then stopped, the wind visibly taken out of her sails and looking outright dejected.

"And why wouldn't I?" Asked Nick with a ghost of a smirk on his face.

The human worried for a moment whether he'd given her a heart attack as he refitted the spare translator into his ear.

"You.. did.. I mean, we... err.." The large and imposing lady spluttered.

It was adorable.

"Don't worry, it's different to hear things with no filter, but I wasn't insulted... not really." He tried to assure her, folding away the table now it was unneeded.

"So... about why I stayed behind...?" She asked, with a hopeful tone that was painfully obvious. These female Taurians really were like oblivious young men, full of nerves and hormones with no idea how to use what they had.

"Well we've only got just over an hour and a half... how do these beds unfold?" Nick asked carefully, thankfully for her, so was he.

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

When Eddie Munson arrives at the Buckingham Beach Motel to spend the summer with his BFF Chrissy and her business partner Robin, the last person he expects to see waiting in the lobby is former king of Hawkins High and asshole extraordinaire, Steve fucking Harrington.

Chapter 1: Checking In

WC: 4547 | R: Explicit | CH: 1/12 | AO3| Now Complete!

Eddie grinned as he pulled his trusty van, the very same rust-bucket he’d been driving since high school that he liked to refer to as Van Halen, if only to elicit the groans of both friends and strangers, into the small parking lot of the Buckingham beach motel. He hadn’t been on vacation for…

Well, he’d never been on a true vacation before, actually, unless that one time he went fishing with his Uncle Wayne for a weekend counted. And sure, he was going to be working at least part time while he was visiting his best friend in her seaside paradise, but it was still the closest thing to a holiday he’d ever had. Needless to say, Eddie was hell bent on thoroughly enjoying himself this Summer. Sun, sand, and shirtless men in speedos? 

Sign him up!

He hopped out of the van, relieved to finally stretch his legs after the long drive, and threw open the back doors, staring down at the collection of boxes, duffel bags, and one large black trunk that made up almost the entirety of his worldly possessions. 

The day after he finally graduated from Hawkins High, back in 1986, Eddie had cut and run and not looked back. He’d been living as a kind of nomad ever since, never quite feeling comfortable enough to stay in one town or city for too long. He was usually able to find work as a bartender or bouncer to fund his stay at whatever hostel or efficiency he could find, and when all else failed he slept right here in his van. 

He still visited Hawkins on a rare occasion, a necessary evil to be endured only so he could spend time with his beloved uncle, but that place would never be home for him again.

It wasn’t a bad life. He’d seen a lot of cool places and met tons of interesting people, but lately he’d been missing something. The stability of a real home, perhaps. The kind you only really get when you put down roots. In his weaker moments he yearned for the support and community that could be found with friendships that lasted longer than a few months. 

With a sigh, he grabbed the two largest bags that held the majority of his clothes, and the backpack that held the rest of his day-to-day essentials and headed towards the lobby. He could always come back out for the rest later.

The first thing Eddie noticed when he walked in the door was the spectacular pair of legs and delicious ass in too-short shorts that belonged to a man who was leaning over the counter talking to Robin. Unfortunately, the second thing he noticed was that same man’s oddly familiar swoop of chestnut brown hair. 

Eddie’s stomach dropped. 

What in the world was Steve fucking Harrington doing here?

“You made it!” Chrissy squealed as she came barreling out of the office door, having spotted him through the reception window.

Eddie knew what was coming, but he was a little slow given the way the metaphorical rug had been ripped out from under him, and in his current shocked state only just managed to drop his bags in time to catch the former cheerleader as she launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

He held her tight, forcing himself to let go of all thoughts of former jocks and high school rivalries for a moment, and just enjoyed the fact that he was here with his best girl—finally seeing her in person after so many months apart. He inhaled deeply, appreciating the familiar scent of Ex'cla-ma'tion. He used to hate her cheap drugstore perfume, but it’s amazing what you start to miss when you're separated from your loved ones for so long. 

“Missed you.” Eddie whispered into her hair before finally letting her down.

She giggled as he swung her to the floor, and then proceeded to punch him in the arm as hard as she could, which was pretty fucking hard for such a tiny little thing.

“Hey! What was that for?” Eddie sputtered.

“For waiting so long to come visit this time! I missed you too, jerk.”

He rubbed at the spot where she’d hit him. Honestly It didn’t actually hurt all that much, but he liked to play along for the bit. “Jeez, Chris. Funny way of showing it.” 

“You love it.”

“Keep it in your pants, lady, you’re not my type.”

“Freak!”

“Priss!”

Eddie doubled over, cackling, and Chrissy laughed hysterically right along with him, the two falling into another hug just to keep each other upright. When they finally calmed down enough to behave normally again, Chrissy pulled back from his arms, her expression turned serious. 

After a glance back over her shoulder she spoke low, barely above a whisper, “so as I'm sure you noticed, we have another hometown guest joining us.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Harrington’s kinda hard to miss. What's he doing here anyway?”

“Visiting Robin for the summer?” Chrissy said it as if it should have been obvious.

It wasn’t.

“Why?”

Chrissy let out a long suffering sigh. “He’s her best friend! You know this, how do you always forget?”

She was right, he did always forget that when Robin talked about her friend Steve, that it was Harrington she was talking about. It was such an odd pairing that Eddie just sort of blocked it out. He couldn’t reconcile the Steve from Robin’s stories with the prick he remembered from Hawkins. 

“Right, fine, sorry. What about him?”

“Well, you know this is our first season, and the booking system is so new and confusing. We may have accidentally overbooked, but it's okay! Because the three of us were talking about it before you arrived, and since the one room we do have left is a double queen we thought… ”

Absolutely not.

Eddie grabbed her by the hand, cutting her off and tugging her across the lobby as far from Steve and Robin as they could get.

“Are you crazy?! You want me to be roommates with King Steve?!” He hissed, throwing his hands around wildly. “Have you completely forgotten what a giant asshole he is?!”

“We’re not in high school anymore, Eds. I’ve spent time with the guy. He’s always been nice to me, and if what Robin tells me is true? Then not only is Steve not like that anymore, maybe he never really was.”

Eddie's jaw tightened. She could not be serious. Jock’s don’t change their stripes, or whatever.

“Right,” he spat.

“Look at me! I changed, and we became friends. Why couldn’t Steve be a good guy underneath it all too?”

He waved her off. “That’s different. You are the exception that proves the rule. And you were always a good person, you just ran with a bad crowd for a while, not to mention the boyfriend we do not speak of.”

“Exactly! So isn't it possible that Steve is the same?”

“No.”

Chrissy groaned. “I’m serious! Really think about it, do you remember him ever doing or saying anything shitty to you directly? Or was he just there in the background while his friends did?”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “Assholery by proxy is still assholery.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

“Come on Chris!” Eddie whined. Had they been alone he might have even stomped his feet. “Don’t make me do this. Can’t I share with you?”

“You know I live with Robin.”

“Okay, and? It’s only for the Summer. She can stay with Steve and I can stay with you. It’s a perfect solution!”

Chrissy shook her head. “Our room is a single and I love the shit out of you, but I draw the line at sharing a bed.”

Wait, what?

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “How did I not know about this? Does that mean you finally got your act together and told her how you feel?”

Chrissy turned bright red and threw her hand over his mouth. “Oh my god. Shut. Up. Of course I haven't told her!” 

He tried to respond, but Chrissy refused to move her hand—so naturally, he licked it. 

“Gross!” Chrissy yanked her hand back with a look of disgust.

“Jeez, I know it’s not the tongue you were hoping for, but it wasn’t that bad!” 

Chrissy whirled around, probably worried that Robin had overheard them, and Eddie might not be the most present guy, but he was still a good friend. As much as he liked to mess with her, he’d been keeping a very close eye on the other side of the room and Steve and Robin were too engrossed in their own whisper-shouting match to pay them any attention.

Steve must be equally irritated by the girl's proposition. 

Eddie leaned forward, speaking close to her ear. “Are you telling me that you and Robin run this place together all day, share a bed every night, and you still don’t think she likes you back?” 

“It’s not like that!” Chrissy insisted. “We make more money from the doubles. Financially it made more sense for us to live in one of the singles. We’re just, uh—two really good friends having a never ending sleepover.”

Eddie wasn’t convinced and honestly it didn’t sound like she was either, but he’d drop it for now. “Whatever you say.”

“So, what do you think about sharing with Steve?” 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Eddie grumbled.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I’m sure you two will get along fine. Who knows, maybe you’ll discover you have some things in common.” She sounded so optimistic, it was her one flaw.

And was it his imagination or did she just wink at him?

“Yes, I'm sure we’ll come out of this as the best of friends.”

“That’s the spirit!” Chrissy cheered.

“I was being sarcastic!!”

For whatever reason, Steve also agreed to this outrageous living arrangement—reluctantly, Eddie assumed, though the other man did an excellent job at hiding how unhappy he must be.

Harrington was all smiles about it. Eddie wanted to punch him in the face.  

Once the deal was in place, Chrissy announced she had to leave for a meeting with the bank, something about an additional small loan to make more improvements on the place or something, leaving Robin alone to show him and Steve to their room. 

Eddie liked Robin well enough, but he’d only ever hung out with her and Chrissy together. He was worried she might act differently or something with Steve around, but It became abundantly clear after he heard her call the guy dingus for the third time in their five minute journey, that his worry was unfounded. Robin was Robin, and she changed for no one. He appreciated that, and kept his guard up, ready to defend her if need be—in case Steve finally had enough and lashed out, becoming the mean girl Eddie remembered from years ago, but it never happened. 

Damn he was good. 

The Buckingham was the kind of motel where all the doors opened to the outside. Some towards the front street, giving a beautiful view of the ocean, others opened up to the pool area in the back. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was a perk of being friends with the owner, or a consolation prize for the mix up, but he and Steve were given a room on the second floor, ocean side. There was even a cute little wooden bench next to their door, "In case you two ever want to sit out and watch the sunrise,” or so said Robin. 

Eddie hadn’t woken before ten in the morning voluntarily since he graduated, and he didn’t think the lure of a few pretty colors in the sky was going to end that streak, but he very politely kept that thought to himself.

“That’s a nice thought, Robs,” Steve said, chuckling. “But I think I'll get to see plenty of sunrises at work.”

Robin shuddered. “You’re a better man than me.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked before he could stop himself. Not like he cared, it was just natural curiosity. 

“I’m working as a lifeguard on the beach, so I'll be up at the crack of dawn nearly every day anyway.”

Eddie grimaced. 

Jesus Christ, a dick and an early riser. 

Lovely. 

“Don’t worry though!” Steve added quickly. “I'll be careful not to wake you up. I know how to be stealthy, like a ninja.”

It was… the absolute dorkiest way he could have said it. 

Eddie almost cracked a smile, but held firm in his grumpiness by the skin of his teeth. “You’d better.”

Steve performed a little cross-your-heart gesture.

What the fuck.

“Seriously, my roommate in college was a really light sleeper,” Steve went on, “so I have a lot of practice sneaking out quietly.”

Eddie’s lip nearly betrayed him then, twitching upwards like a traitor. Luckily, Robin drew Steve’s attention away for a second, allowing him a moment to regain control.

“Oh, I’ll just bet you do.” Robin teased.

Steve’s cheeks flushed, but he ignored her comment and turned back to Eddie. “What about you? Are you getting a job, or just hanging out?”

“Hate to break it to you, Harrington, but I got a part time gig bartending at a place a few blocks over. Looks like we’ll be living on opposite schedules.” Eddie grinned, sounding gleeful even to himself. “We may never have to see each other awake.”

Steve’s smile faltered for a beat, but quickly returned to its full power. “Well, lucky for you I’m a very heavy sleeper, so you won’t have to worry about waking me up when you come home late.”

Eddie grit his teeth—he was getting annoyed. What did he have to do to get a rise out of this guy, huh? To get a peek behind the mask? And who did he think he was, saying ‘lucky for you’? The only person it was lucky for was Steve, because no way was Eddie going to be tip-toeing around in his own place. Not for anyone.

After asking if they had any questions about the place, Robin handed them each a key and took off, leaving them to it. If Eddie had a little less pride he might have begged her to stay, but he supposed he might as well start getting used to the situation.

The room was small.

Two queen beds made up the majority of the space, with a single nightstand wedged between them. A dresser sat across the way, with six drawers and a small T.V. on its top. The rest of the room was made up of a tiny bathroom, an even tinier closet, and an efficiency kitchen consisting of a sink, mini-fridge, microwave, two burner cooktop, and a little table with two chairs. 

Eddie dropped his bags in the middle of the floor. As much as he would have liked to just ignore Steve, the space was tight enough that they would have to dance around each other the whole time they were unpacking. They also needed to figure out how they were going to split the space.

“Alright, how do you want to do this?” 

The only thing Steve expressed a preference for was taking the bed closest to the door, which sounded like some alpha male bullshit to Eddie, honestly. As if Steve needed to be the first line of defense if someone were to break in while they were sleeping. 

The idea was ridiculous and definitely not at all hot.

But, Eddie wanted the bed by the window anyway, so it was fine.

Once that was negotiated, they began to put their things away. It was… suspiciously easy. Steve kept deferring to him, even offering to give up one of his three drawers when he realized how much stuff Eddie had. It was infuriating. What did Steve expect to get out of all this politeness and generosity? There were no girls here to impress.

Eddie curtly refused the offer, which Steve only shrugged at, saying there would be plenty of extra closet space anyway, as he only had a few dress shirts to hang up. Eddie gave up then, leaving about half of his band tees in one of the bags and kicked it under the bed before throwing himself on top of it. He’d finish unpacking some other time, when he didn’t have an audience. 

He laid there and watched through barely open eyelids while Steve pulled an extensive collection of very tiny swim trunks out of his bag, and contemplated the injustices of the world—quietly brooding as the other man found a home for every single item he’d managed to squeeze into his singular suitcase. 

It was impressive, rankly, not that Eddie would ever tell him that. 

Finally, Steve picked up a rather large toiletry bag and wandered away. 

Unable to resist, Eddie got up and followed. This was something he had to see. Steve hadn’t been called ‘The Hair’ half his school career for nothing. 

Eddie stood in the doorway, observing through the mirror as Steve hummed softly to himself, arranging his collection of hair and skin care products along one side of the sink and vanity, being ever-so-careful to only take up half of the counter space.

For some reason, that was the final straw.

“What’s your deal, man?” Eddie snapped, more accusation than question.

He hoped Steve might finally fight back, but of course he didn’t. Remaining frustratingly calm as he replied. 

“What do you mean?”

Eddie growled. “I’m not buying the nice act, okay King Steve? So you might as well drop it. I’d rather you be real and be a prick, than this fake polite bullshit.”

For half a second Steve looked almost… sad? like Eddie had hurt his feelings somehow, but it was gone so quickly—must have been a trick of the light.

Steve smiled and shook his head, finally glancing up to make eye contact with Eddie’s reflection. “I don’t know what to tell you. What you see is pretty much what you get. You wanna talk about King Steve? Now that shit was an act.”

Fine.

If Steve wanted to continue to pretend he was a good guy now? Eddie would just have to see how far he could push him. Sure his best friend was an out and proud lesbian, but how would he react knowing that the man he was going to share a room with for the next twelve weeks or so was gay?

“Whatever you say, Harrington.” 

Eddie tapped his fingers on the doorframe as he thought over his words. “Y’know, we should probably work out a system for when we want to bring dates home. I remember your reputation of course, and I know I'm hoping to bring more than a few guys back for a nightcap after the bar closes, if you catch my drift. So, what do you think?” 

He’d started out his little speech feeling brave and a bit cocky, but by the end of it there was sweat pooling on his upper lip, and he was thinking maybe this wasn’t the best way to come out to a former jock who could probably snap him in two with half a thought.

But—

The whole thing elicited exactly zero reaction. 

Steve didn’t miss a beat, didn’t even bat an eye before he asked, “What, like putting a tie on the door or something?”

Eddie wanted to scream. 

“I’m sure we can do better than that,” he huffed, stalking off to look around the rest of their room for ideas, quickly zeroing in on the set of hang tags sitting on the table in the kitchen area. 

Eddie beamed. Most hotels just had the standard 'please service' or 'do not disturb' messages on their tags, but of course the girls would try and get creative with it.

“Here, these’ll work.” Eddie said, barely managing to hold back a laugh as he held the first one up for Harrington to look at.

Steve read aloud. “Out to sea. Cute.”

“Right, so we can use that one when the coast is clear,” Eddie’s eyes sparkled as he raised the other sign, “and this one when one of us has a guest.” 

“My boat is docked. Do not disturb.” Steve said, cheeks flushing pink as he read.

Eddie ginned widely. “See? It’s perfect.”

As it turned out, Eddie had been right. 

He and Steve had been cohabitating for 4 days already and he hadn’t seen the guy awake once since they went to bed that first night after an awkward meal of Chinese takeout and a bad movie, watched without commentary from separate beds. 

Steve was always already asleep when Eddie got back from the bar at two a.m. each night, and was long gone by the time Eddie rolled out of bed the next morning. Though, in his continued campaign to act like a decent person, Steve had made a point of leaving half a pot of fresh coffee on the warmer every day. 

Eddie thought about dumping it out of spite, but it was king of… nice. 

It brought back memories of Wayne doing the same, leaving coffee and food out on the kitchen table for him to easily grab on his way out the door, because his uncle knew Eddie wouldn’t eat anything otherwise. It was comforting, and though he knew Steve didn’t really mean it that way, it made Eddie feel taken care of. He’d take that feeling where he could get it for now, even if it came from someone he couldn’t stand.

Work was busy that night. It was his first Saturday behind the bar, and the place was absolutely heaving with sweaty bodies grinding themselves together to the rhythm of whatever shitty top 40’s cover song the band played. On the rare occasion that he had a moment to breathe Eddie found himself scanning the crowd for anyone that might pique his interest. 

He wasn’t as subtle about it as he maybe should have been, but Chrissy had once assured him that their part of town was fairly queer friendly, though there was no actual gay bar to speak of, so he figured he was safe enough to look.  

He’d been looking every night since he’d arrived, actually, but had yet to notice a single guy that set his radar off, until now.

He was tall, blonde, insanely tanned, and not at all Eddie’s type—but when the pickings were slim, beggars couldn’t be choosers. The guy was cute enough, though, and he was looking at Eddie like he wanted to eat him alive. 

Perfect.

Eddie knew he looked good tonight. He’d purposely put a little more thought into getting ready than he had before previous shifts, knowing that the larger weekend crowd would give him a better chance at getting lucky. 

His black jeans were skin tight, and the boss had even let him cut his white uniform t-shirt into a crop top, showing off a strip of pale skin and trim waist anytime he raised his arms. To top it all off, he’d worn his hair up today with just a few tendrils falling around his face. Honestly, that had been more about the heat than anything else, but he also knew it was one of his best looks.  

Eddie met the nameless man’s gaze from across the room, holding it firm as he dried a pint glass and raising his eyebrow in silent question.

The man smiled glancing at his friends, who were far too busy chatting up a group of barely legal young girls to pay him any mind, before sauntering up to lean across the bar. 

“What time do you get off, gorgeous?”

Eddie smirked. “Meet me by the side door in an hour.”

The streets were quiet as Eddie and his new friend walked the few short blocks from the bar to the Buckingham. A fact they took full advantage of, stopping to shove their tongues down each other's throats at regular intervals along the way. 

So caught up in finally getting a little action, it wasn’t until Eddie was leading the way up the stairs to their floor of the motel that he remembered his unfortunate roomate. 

It was late, guaranteeing that Steve would already be in bed fast asleep. Somehow, Eddie hadn’t considered this little problem when they’d worked out the whole do-not-disturb sign system. 

Oh well, he’d just have to wake Steve up and tell him to get out for a while. 

After telling his… date to wait outside, Eddie slipped into the dark room and crept over to the closest bed. Looking down at Steve’s sleeping form, he almost changed his mind. It didn’t feel right to kick the guy out of his own bed just so he could get off with a stranger, but then Eddie thought back to the way Tommy Hagan—Steve’s former best friend and second in command—used to spit the word queer in his face like acid as he shoved him against the lockers before P.E., and he found all the motivation he needed. 

“Harrington?” Eddie murmured as he shook Steve's shoulder.

Steve stirred, waking slowly and frowning up at Eddie with heavy eyelids.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Steve's voice was thick with sleep but also—genuine concern.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. 

Oh.

He hesitated to answer for a moment, but forced himself to shake it off—whatever it was

Don’t start feeling bad about this now, Munson, get your shit together. 

“Everything is fine. I just, um.. I need the room. For a bit?”

Smooth. Real smooth.

“What? I don’t…” Steve trailed off, frowning harder. 

Eddie saw the moment it clicked.

“Oh.” Steve breathed, looking more awake by the second. “O-ok, I'll just take a blanket down to one of the pool loungers I guess.”

“Cool, I-I mean, thanks,”  Eddie stuttered out as Steve got up and they both went for the door. “I’ll–uh–let you know when he’s gone.”

It was strange, he would have expected to feel a sense of satisfaction or something in this moment for managing a hook up before Steve did, but as Eddie watched him shuffle off wrapped up in a blanket after giving bar-guy an awkward nod, he just kinda felt like a jerk.

Then, bar-guy was hurrying inside, drawing Eddie into a rough, bruising kiss—crowding him against the wall before dropping to his knees, and he forgot all about feeling bad. 

The man made quick work of the fly on Eddie’s jeans and had them pulled down around his thighs in a matter of seconds. It all happened so fast he could do nothing but moan loudly as his length was engulfed by the warm wetness of an eager mouth—any lingering thoughts of Steve drifting away under the attention of this stranger's talented tongue. He came quicker than he would have liked, but eagerly returned the favor—happy to lose himself to the feeling of a cock down his throat for the first time in weeks.

After, when clothes were set to rights and no cuddling whatsoever happened, exactly how Eddie preferred it, bar-guy was gone. 

And Eddie went down to the pool to get Steve. 

Chapter 2

Tagging a few folks who I think were interested, just let me know if you want to be removed. If you'd like to be added to the tag list, i'd be more than happy to do so!

@penny00dreadful @every-aj-needs-an-angel @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Traffic 

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~5k

Summary: You and Wanda travel abroad 

A/N: I said I was going to post this Friday, but I fell asleep while reading it and now it’s 4am here, so here ya go. The angst fic that was requested...or voted for, not sure which. Please forgive any typos, my eyes are not staying open. Enjoy! 

Warnings: injury, angst, hurt

“No, Y/n it’s this way.”

You and Wanda had been vacationing for a couple of weeks, and you both were just trying to relax and be tourists for a bit. You were in Spain and you’d just left the largest church you’d ever been in to head to lunch.  Between the two of you, Wanda was the one who liked to find places to eat while you dealt with hotels and transportation. It worked well for both of you and so far neither of you had any complaints. Despite having way too much money, you two weren't sticking with 5-star hotels or restaurants. You’d convinced Wanda to have the normal traveler’s experience and despite sometimes struggling with having hot water consistently, you were enjoying it. As long as Wanda was with you, she didn’t really care where they were. That said, there were a few things she put her foot down about.

You sigh in defeat as you glance up from your phone that you had been using for directions to watch your wife start to walk away from you. The area you were in was hectic. The true center of tourism. The crowds of people on the sidewalks and walking through the streets seemed to blend with the traffic heading in all directions. Wanda’s heading in what you believe is the wrong direction, but you’re willing to walk a little out of the way if it makes your wife feel better.  You’re still thawing from the freezing air blowing through the church, so the bright sun beating down on you doesn’t bother you much. You hurry after Wanda who’s standing at the foot of the steps looking down one road with a slightly confused look.

“Wands, wait a second.”

You’re in the process of putting on your sunglasses as you head down the stairs when you see something dart in front of traffic. Your first thought is a dog because you’ve seen a few strays every now and then, but the fact people are honking and swerving immediately helps you realize it’s a child. You’re not sure why he was in the road, but that doesn’t matter as much to you. You see that Wanda’s still distracted in her search, and the normal traffic sounds don’t tip her off until it’s too late. You see the motorcycle swerve to avoid the kid, and the car behind it slam on its breaks. The kid’s still running and the car he almost steps in front of swerves into a motorcyclist who’s sent careening onto the sidewalk. Right toward your wife. The sound of the collision clues Wanda in and she’s turning to investigate when the bike is sent barreling toward her.

“Wanda, watch out!”

You reach her fast enough to push her out of the bike’s path, but you step right into it, and you brace for impact as much as possible with barely a millisecond’s notice.

You’ve ridden on a motorcycle maybe twice in your life, but even that wasn’t enough for you to remember how heavy they were. You curse and go flying several feet before you’re skidding down the sidewalk. The bike tilts and falls leaving the driver on the sidewalk too while his bike almost makes it to the stairs of the church. Wanda’s picking herself up off the ground quickly when she realizes that you’re hit. She looks toward you with wide terrified eyes when she sees you lying on the ground motionless. She’d missed you getting hit, but the fact that you made it so far away scares her. One glance at the bike and the injured driver tells her everything she needs to know.

“Y/n!”

You’re conscious, but you don’t notice Wanda fall to her knees beside you to try and assess how injured you are. She hears enough of the conversations around her to know that an ambulance is being called. A closer look at you tells her you’ll definitely need one. There are burns on your arms from where you hit the bike and they’re scratched and bruising from your impact with the sidewalk. Wanda carefully reaches out for your shoulder, but you barely move from where you’re lying face down on the hot, dirty brick.

“Y/n can you hear me? Help’s coming, okay?”

You can hear her but you can’t force yourself to respond as your brain tries to catalogue your injuries. Your arms ache, your leg is throbbing from the impact with the bike, and you feel something warm dripping down your face.  You tense at the feeling of your wife’s hand on you, and she immediately pulls back but you don’t want that. You force yourself to roll over onto your back, and you grimace in pain as the motion agitates near every injury you have. You groan loudly and Wanda reaches out carefully to try and comfort you, but she doesn’t know where to touch you.

“Detka, don’t move too much, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here.”

You nod in understanding and take a few seconds to listen for sirens. You only notice the crowd of people nearby and the worried look on your wife’s face. You want to tell her that you’ll be fine, but everything hurts and you’re not sure if anything is broken. Instead you offer her a small smirk as you glance to what you believed was the right direction of the restaurant you’d wanted to go to.

“You can go to lunch if you want. Bring me back a-a sandwich.”

You close your eyes so you miss the scoff and the accompanying eye roll at your ridiculous statement. Wanda shakes her head before squeezing your hand as she registers the sound of sirens closing in. She’s already trying to figure out how she’ll arrange a new ride home for you two. She quickly switches gears when she sees the ambulance pull up to the busy sidewalk. Wanda looks back to you and smiles when she sees you still smiling.

“Later, Y/n. Help is here.”

The trip to the hospital is a blur for both of you, and as Wanda waits anxiously in the waiting room she wishes she’d told the EMTs more than she had. She feels her phone vibrate as she’s waiting for you to be triaged, and she looks down to see that her brother is calling her.

“Hey Piet.”

She’d texted the older Maximoff as soon as she’d sat down, and only a few minutes later he was calling. It had a bit of a rambling message, but she’d wanted to tell someone about what was going on because she was alone and panicking. Pietro had been asleep and barely heard the first ding of his phone. The second, third and fourth finally made his eyes open and he reached out for his phone with a groan. He had been planning to turn it off, but the sight of his sister’s name through one cracked eye made him sit up and try to pay attention.

“Wands, how is she doing? Is she okay?”

Wanda nearly starts crying as she thinks about how she has no idea what’s going on. She was told that she would be updated as soon as they had something to tell her. However, given that they were in a different country and no one knew who she was she didn’t get special treatment. This meant things moved slower and despite hating it, there was nothing that she could do but wait. She wanted to see how you were doing, but it had barely been 10 minutes. Wanda tells her brother this and there’s a minute or two of silence as they both think about this. Wanda wonders if you’d broken something while Pietro’s thinking about how to arrange a flight back for you two. He knows his sister won’t want to take you back on a regular flight, but he’ll arrange that in the morning. Well later this morning.

“It was so scary, Pietro. I didn’t see it happen because she pushed me out of the way, but she was so far away. The motorcycle really just mowed her down.”

Pietro cringes at this imagery and how traumatic this must have been for both of you. Mostly you considering that you’re in the hospital. He sits up and turns on the light as he starts to get out of bed to get changed.

“Can I do anything to help, sestra?”

Pietro waits for a response that never comes because Wanda simply sighs in defeat. She doesn’t know what to tell him because until she has information she’d just be guessing. She will be going around in circles if she gets started now. Eventually she shakes her head before looking at her watch that she just realizes is scratched from her fall. She doesn’t care about this right now as she takes a deep breath and tries to calm down.

“No, Piet, but thank you. I'll let you know when I know something.”

This turns out to be over an hour later, and by that time Wanda’s near beside herself with worry. She nearly jumps up when her name is called and she listens carefully as she’s told about what the doctor had figured out. Wanda follows the doctor to your room because the first question she’d asked was if she could see you. Apparently you were asleep, but Wanda didn’t care and she’s practically running behind the doctor.

“She’s fractured her tibia and sustained some other minor injuries on her arms, hands, and face but I'm concerned about her possibly hitting her head.”

Wanda can’t say if this happened or not because she was too distracted and she’d missed everything important. She regrets this immensely in this moment but she can’t do anything about it other than admit her ignorance. She arrives at your room while the doctor is still talking to her about next steps. She nods slowly before taking a moment to process the information.

“We can talk about it later, but next steps would be advanced imaging to see if she’s injured in ways we can’t see.”

Wanda will think about this soon, but for now she’s focused on where you’re lying in bed groggy from the medication you’d been given. Your eyes are shut, but when she comes to the side of your bed you try to open them with a quiet groan.

“Thank you. I'll let you know after I talk to her.”

The doctor nods before giving you two some time alone. She’ll have a nurse on standby in case you need assistance, but Wanda hopes you won’t need it. Once she’s gone she picks up an uncomfortable looking chair and places it beside your bed quietly. She frowns as she takes in your bruised and bloodied face, and your arms that have been wrapped in bandages. She reaches out for your hand and carefully intertwines your fingers. You don’t respond immediately, but Wanda’s frown deepens when your lips turn down and you yank your hand away. You hiss in pain but Wanda doesn’t get to ask about this before you’re speaking up.

“Leave me ‘lone. I’m married.”

Wanda’s brows furrow in confusion before she seems to realize you’re a lot higher than she thought. She tries to reach out again but she stops short of touching you as she speaks up.

“I know, detka. I’m your wife, Wanda.”

She sees you roll this around your brain for a moment with a cute pout before you look to her with barely opened eyes. You reach out for her with a curious look before muttering a question under your breath.

“Wands? What are you doin’ here?”

If you weren’t so drugged Wanda would smile at you, but she’s a little worried about how unfocused your gaze is. She decides she should get to the important part and figure out how you want to proceed. If you were to ask her to go home now she’d find it hard to say no to you. Luckily you seem too tired to think that far ahead.

“I’m here because you’re hurt. Remember the bike that hit you? How are you feeling?”

You whine as you turn on your side and try to bring your wife closer. You want a hug, but the pain in your leg stops you from moving too much. You curse and feel tears well up in your eyes at the sharp sudden pain and Wanda is reaching out to still you before you hurt yourself more.

“Oh yeah. I hurt a lot. Did I break something?”

Wanda takes a minute to explain what the doctor said, and you’re still frowning as you consider your options. You hate being in small spaces but at least you’ll be put under anesthesia for it. This makes Wanda nervous because she hates anesthesia. It freaks her out being put asleep, but this is definitely a situation where it’s necessary. You decide that you’ll do whatever the doctor recommends and Wanda calls the nurse back in to let her know. When the doctor returns to talk to you both, you’re told that these tests will take a couple of hours. You don’t mind because you’ll be asleep, but you wonder how Wanda’s going to pass the time. Rather you’re worried that she'll be very anxious the entire time you’re out. You wish there was someone who could sit with her, but your friends are thousands of miles away.

“Will you be okay, Wands?”

Once you two are alone, you and Wanda sit in silence for a bit. You’ll only have a few minutes before you have to go, but you want to take the time to check in with your wife before you’re sedated any further. Wanda just squeezes your hand before offering you a smile you see through immediately.

“I'll be fine, detka, but more importantly so will you.”

Wanda tries not to read too deeply into the act of taking off your rings later. You’re going to get an MRI and any metal on your body needs to be removed. You make her promise to keep them safe before you kiss her goodbye for now. You’re wheeled off to get imaging done and you sigh heavily as you consider how things could have been different if you hadn’t noticed the near wreck in time. You’re glad that Wanda was okay, and other than your leg and arms you’re not too bad. That’s what’s important to you.

Pietro’s arranged for a jet to go to Wanda as soon as she says the word. He’s been juggling work and arranging this for his sister, but he mostly cares about how you’re both doing. He’s about to text Wanda again when he finally hears his phone ring. It’s a couple of hours since you went in for testing and his sister has just been given good news. She breathes a sigh of relief before telling Pietro that she’d like to come home now. You two had planned to leave in a couple of days anyway, and given that you should be monitored closely for any complications, Wanda wanted you home where she had people who could take care of you.

“That’s great news, sestra. I'll have the pilot head out now and keep you updated.”

Wanda smiles gratefully as she thinks about how to tell your friends about this. They would be worried and she didn’t want them to be, but she also knew that hiding this would piss them off. As if hearing her thoughts, Pietro tells her that he’ll let everyone know what happened so she doesn’t have to worry about anything but you. Wanda’s extremely grateful for her brother right now and she’d even hug him if he were here.

“Thank you, Piet. I'll call you when we’re heading out.”

Other than the massive headache that you have, you’re feeling pretty good. You’re flying on a private jet that is definitely several steps up from the first class flight you took to Spain. You are resting in a very comfortable chair as you try to move your head as little as possible. You glance over to your wife who’s sleeping nearby, and you smile at the adorable sight of her curled up under the covers. She’d been exhausted ever since you arrived at the hospital. You’re certain that she didn’t sleep at all, and you’re glad that she’s making up for lost time.

You just wish you were feeling a little better so you could enjoy the flight with her. You sigh quietly before closing your eyes again with a frown. You’re lucky that neither of the tests you had showed any major issues. You definitely knocked your head on the ground, but it was just a minor concussive injury that would hopefully improve with rest and medication. Your leg is honestly going to take the longest to heal despite only being only a small fracture. You were given the option of an ugly boot and crutches or a cast and crutches. They both sounded unappealing, but you figured that the boot would be easier to navigate. You glance to where your leg is kicked up on an ottoman, the ugly boot putting its impression in the hopefully faux leather. You want to get up and to the bathroom but that sounds like a lot of work at the moment. You’d rather just sleep a little more.

Instead you end up doing one of the many things that the doctor had told you to avoid. You go on your phone so you can text your friends who had heard about what happened from Pietro. You reassured them that you were okay. Just a little shaken and beaten up but nothing too serious. You agreed to go see the doctors at the compound for repeat testing as soon as you got home, but Wanda had already told you that was happening so it wasn’t much of a sacrifice. After catching everyone up and sending a cute picture of your broken leg, you start to formulate a plan for getting up and going to the bathroom. You blindly grab your crutches and end up dropping one with a loud bang. You wait to see if Wanda would wake up, but she barely stirs as you grab the other crutch and figure out how to hop around.

It takes a good two minutes for you to climb to your feet, and you stop to take a break once you’re up. Almost five minutes later your bladder is about to empty itself so gracelessly hobble to the nicest bathroom you’ve seen in weeks. Your trip is uneventful until after washing your hands you knock the crutch on the floor again. You curse when the loud noise draws Wanda’s attention and you hear her call you from the bedroom.

“Y/n? Are you in the bathroom?”

You glare at the crutch on the floor before nodding to yourself and calling Wanda in through the closed door.

“Yeah. Come on in.”

Wanda wastes no time doing this and as soon as the door’s opened she’s looking around for the source of the noise. She’s not surprised to see the fallen crutch, and she hurries to pick it up before eyeing you carefully.

“Are you okay?”

You nod minutely before claiming that you still have a headache. You see Wanda do some mental math before frowning when she reaches the same realization that you had. It’s too early for more medication, so you’re just going to have to sleep it off or not move at all so as not to aggravate your headache.

“Do you want to lie down?”

Wanda can see from how weak your eyes look that you don’t feel well. You’re squinting as you slowly navigate your way back to the bedroom with a sigh. Wanda hovers nearby as you make it to the bedside, and she helps you turn down the covers quickly so you can lie down. You sit down slowly before propping your crutch against the bedside table and looking down at your annoying boot with a scowl. You were allowed to take it off when you slept but you were afraid of rolling over and hurting yourself. You also don’t want to bend over to take it off so you decide to just lie down.

“Wands?”

Your wife knows what you’re asking and she nods before kneeling down in front of you. She instructs you to sit back and she helps lift your leg and turn you so you’re lying on your pillow. You sigh in relief and shoot Wanda a grateful smile before patting the spot next to you. She leaves you for a second first and grabs a blanket to throw over you since she doesn’t want to pull the covers your boot. You snuggle up under it with a happy hum that makes Wanda smile widely as she comes to sit beside you.

“Is this okay?”

Wanda whispers this since she knows your head hurts, and you just nod in confirmation before reaching out for her hand. You squeeze it tightly before closing your eyes and trying to relax now that you’re lying down. You hope that your medication kicks in soon, and you let that comforting thought lull you to sleep.

The next time you’re conscious you feel like someone’s taken a bat to the side of your head. You don’t dare move and you almost wish that your pulse would slow so you didn’t have to feel and hear the seemingly thunderous sound vibrate through your skull. You try to open your eyes but a wave of nausea forces you to close them with a quiet whimper.

“Y/n?”

So maybe not as quiet as you thought. Your tossing and turning had woken up your wife who had been watching you for a few minutes. Once she realized that you weren’t doing well she decided to speak up. She regrets it immediately though when she sees that you’re grimacing in pain. Wanda checks the time before she gets up to find your meds. She doesn’t talk and she quickly shuts off the lights before getting a glass of water for you. You manage to swallow the pills before lying back down with a muttered curse when you jostle your leg and try to overcompensate by putting more weight on your bruised arm.

“Shit!”

“How can I help you?”

Ten minutes after taking your meds you’d thrown them up. Now you were lying on the floor because moving again to get into bed required too much exertion. So Wanda just watched anxiously as you fight the urge to vomit again as you focus on the cold bathroom floor instead of your pounding head.

“I just need to sleep. I can’t do anything else right now.”

Wanda doesn’t like this answer but she’s not sure if she can come up with a better option. They’re still about 5 hours away from home, and Wanda is considering the possibility of needing to stop at a hospital on the way when you speak up. Your mouth feels dry in addition to your nausea and raging headache, so it takes you a moment to find your voice.

“Don’t worry, Wanda. I'll feel better soon.”

A few hours later, Wanda’s going between watching the clock and you as you get closer to your destination. She’s glad that you’ve fallen asleep, but you don’t look very comfortable curled up with your pillow between your arms and your leg sticking out at an awkward angle. Wanda reaches for her phone again to see that they’re about an hour out from the compound, and that her brother’s prepared for their arrival.

Bring her to medical when you get here. Christine will be by soon.

Although she’d planned on having your tests repeated as soon as you got home, she feared having you put under again. You woke up fine back in Spain, but you seemed to be doing worse and Wanda was worried. She stares at her screen for a while as she tries to come up with a response, but she hears you shift in your sleep before she gets a chance.

“Wands?”

Wanda is up and by your side immediately ready to get whatever it is you want or need. Instead you hold out your arms to her, only opening your eyes a crack before you mutter sleepily.

“Cuddles.”

Wanda is relieved you aren’t needing anything she can’t give you, so she’s quick to lie back down and let you cuddle her to your heart’s content. You’re able to go back to sleep relatively quickly, but the subtle pounding of your head makes your brows furrow in pain. Wanda frowns at the sight but she’s just glad that the rest of the flight is uneventful.

You’re groggy when you wake up once arriving at the compound. You’re so out of it that you don’t argue when someone arrives with a wheelchair for you. The idea of walking all the way down to medical sounds exhausting, and you give someone else, maybe Wanda, your crutch before being wheeled inside. The person pushing your chair is actually Nat and she shoots your wife a questioning look as she whispers softly.

“How’s she doing?”

Wanda tells the other redhead how you’d done on the flight. After the initial hiccup you’d been able to sleep, but you were still hurting despite getting your medicine. Nat frowns as she gently rolls you into the elevator that will take you to your waiting medical team. She eyes your leg that's in a boot, and overall it that looks a little gnarly. Despite being wrapped and stabilized at least temporarily, Nat worries about how you’ll manage to stay still long enough to heal. You’ve never been good at listening to a doctor’s orders, but she’s hoping that you’ll be more receptive to a doctor you know well.

“Well I hope you at least enjoyed your vacation up to this point.”

Hearing this as you’re rolled into the clinic clues you in to Nat’s presence. You smile as you turn to look at her and offer a minute nod before glancing at your wife.

“It was great! Such good food and sights…and company.”

Both Wanda and Nat smile at your enthusiastic answer before you’re brought to a room where your friend and doctor waits. She’s flanked by a couple of nurses but you focus your attention on her primarily because you know she’s the one that has a plan for you.

“Hi ladies. How is everyone doing?”

Wanda sighs and leans back in her chair as she waits for you to be looked at again. Nat is still with her, and her brother arrived a bit ago to keep her company. He’d asked her about the trip and kept her talking to distract her from her anxiety. Then Christine comes back to tell them what she’s found.

“I see nothing new that I'm worried about. Her scans came back similar to the ones taken earlier today, so I’m just going to start her on stronger meds for now before rechecking in a couple of days.”

Wanda’s relieved to hear this and after talking to you about the plan, you two are sent upstairs to your rooms to relax. You slept for a lot of the flight, but you feel like you could sleep for the rest of the day and through the night. After telling your friends that you’ll catch up with them soon, you take Wanda’s hand and kiss it with a sigh. She’s still standing behind you as she pushes you into the room, but she slows to a stop when you speak up.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me. I’m sorry our trip was cut short.”

Wanda comes around so she’s in front of you, and she kneels down beside you with a shake of her head. She’s glad that she had time to enjoy Spain with you, but she enjoyed spending time with you anywhere, so she wasn’t too disappointed. Her main concern is you always, and she’s glad that you’re not any worse off since leaving. After being given an IV dose of the pain medication, you’d waited for it to kick in before coming up here. You were feeling better, but you knew that you had a lot of rest ahead of you.

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Wanda stands up and gets ready to push you toward the bedroom so you can nap, but she hesitates as you spin around in your chair and shoot her a pleading look.

“About that sandwich…is now a good time?”

Wanda just laughs before she nods and redirects you toward the kitchen. She’s glad to hear that you still have an appetite because this is usually a good indication that you’re not feeling too bad. Wanda rolls you into the kitchen and parks you near the fridge so you can supervise as she gets things ready. Before she does anything though, your wife kisses your forehead and then cheek with a loving smile.

“Sure thing, detka. Coming right up.”

You smile gratefully as your wife leaves you to get started on your lunch. You can feel yourself start to fade again, but you want to hold out for as long as possible. As you watch Wanda move around the kitchen, you’re overwhelmed by a familiar warm feeling that fills your chest and makes you smile widely. You’re reminded of how lucky you are to have Wanda in your life, and when she brings you your sandwich, you quickly set it aside. Watching as you put the plate on the counter, Wanda frowns and wonders what’s wrong. She doesn’t get a chance to ask before you’re reaching out to grab her hands.

“What-?”

She’s cut off as you pull her forward and gently set her in your lap before putting your arms around her. She squeals in surprise and almost tries to get up but you hold her tight with a smile.

“Thank you, love.”

Wanda carefully puts her arms around your shoulders before she smiles and leans in for a kiss. You’re still smiling when her lips meet yours, and you hold her tighter as she leans further into you.

“Anything for you, Y/n.”

Masterlist

[flusterfluffwrites]

It's a cold day, or so the biological reasponse of the woman you're bound to seems to indicate. Cold, but not cold enough for the heaters. These life forms confuse you. That is not the problem, though. The problem is that your bond-mate, Doctor Kal'tsit is scheduled for an intensive operation.

Not on her, mind. You would never let her come to harm, and her meticulous self-care regime leaves no room for anything to cause such a need. She would say that her schedule does not permit illness, but you know just as well as she does that it's not her schedule that keeps her in pristine health. No, instead, she is to take up her station in the only area of the landship that you lack clearance for-- the operating theatre.

Armed guards are posted outside, denying you entrance. They aren't there to keep you out, but as your mandibles clack together to plead to return to her side, to take their posts, they shiver and shake. You can do their jobs so much more efficiently and so much less intrusively. You can withdraw into your crystalline prism and be out of the way until you're needed, but alas, the two guards stand between you and your rightful place. Ambient moisture levels rise almost imperceptibly when you push air through the jagged oriface that passes for a mouth in their eyes. Did they think you were a threat? You want to protect her. To guard her. To know she is safe.

She isn't pleased when she emerges from the room, gloved hands covered in viscera. She knows how happy you are to see her, she has to! Why is she angry? "Mon3tr, stop hassling the guards." You're not hassling them! You pout in a way that only she can recognize. The guards tense up, preparing to ready their pathetic weapons. "The surgical theatre is a sterile environment, free of contaminants by necessity. Your very nature would put the patient at risk. Go for a walk or something."

Walk? You don't have legs, at best, you could- "Or float. Or whatever. Patrol the halls if you need to. Just stop harassing the guards. They're enough." She can't read your thoughts. Or quite understand your words, for that matter. Nevertheless, her ability to read your body language continues to please you. At least someone can understand. A resigned chitter, rocks grinding against rocks, seems to only further unsettle the two life forms assigned to protect her for today. It's not for them, though. The sole woman who understands gives a sigh and waves you off as she retreats to the only place you can't reach her. "I'll be out in a few hours, anyway. Just keep yourself busy."

It wasn't a few hours.

It was twenty.

Twenty hours of long, grueling, high-precision work. You can feel her heart rate escalate over time as she ingests her plant-based ichor. She says it helps, but it only ever makes her more irritated. You grumble your deep, earthy growl as a ceramic cup reaches her lips. "Don't lecture me. The paperwork for a failed operation is going to keep me up another hour or two, I need this." It's not going to be two, it will be six. Her entire body is attempting to shut down into a rest cycle to preserve function, and still, she resists her biological needs. Admirable, you think, even if it's foolish.

Your job is to protect Doctor Kal'tsit from all threats. The largest threat to her at this moment is, undoubtedly, herself. Calculations run in your head. The black ichor in her cup is causing harm, and must be disposed of. The most efficient way to render it inert would be the destruction of its vessel, the ceramic that contains it. As you raise your razor-sharp claw, a command comes at once; not from her words, but from her eyes. You are an immortal weapon comprised of a substance that is neigh indestructible by any force known by these biological life forms. For the first time in your very, very long existence, you know fear. Doctor Kal'tsit may not possess the means to destroy you, but in one glance you know that she will do far far worse if you act to preserve her.

You do not. Mess. With Kal'tsit's coffee.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Fireside

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett Rated: 18+, smut, cockwarming, dirty talk Word count: 3.2k Summary: Benedict is freezing and Sophie does her best to warm him up.

Author's Note: I wrote this as a winter fic, but hey - February is still winter! Happy Valentine's Day! 💝

“What on earth happened to you?” Sophie stood from her chair, letting her book fall to the cushion.  Benedict stood in the doorway to their room, pale as a ghost, his black hair somehow turned grey. He walked toward her stiffly, arms hovering away from his body as if he couldn’t stand the feeling of his own clothes. When he moved closer, she realized that his hair was powdered with melting crystals of snow.

“Colin, Eloise and Pen,” he grumbled, stalking toward the blaze burning high in the tiled fireplace. Sophie now saw the drips falling from his fingertips and chin, and realized he was soaked through.

“But you went for a ride with Anthony and Kate. How did they get involved?”

“They were waiting for us when we got back. They had crafted the largest arsenal of snowballs I have ever seen. We didn’t stand a chance.” He frowned and crouched before the flames, holding out his hands, which were white and shaking.

“Oh?” Sophie couldn’t hide the smirk that crept across her face, so covered it with her hand, trying to look intent on his story.

“They were brutal,” Benedict said glumly, staring into the fire. “And I’m guessing out of some sense of familial propriety, they went easy on Kate and Anthony. I was the primary target. They didn’t just pummel me to the point I nearly fell off my horse, they did their best to drown me in the snow when I tried to retreat.”

“How awful,” Sophie was choking back laughter and silently impressed with the dedication of her brother and sisters-in-law. She knew that the Bridgerton siblings could always be counted upon for shenanigans when they gathered at Aubrey Hall over the Christmas holidays, but this was the first time she had seen Benedict bearing the weight of a prank. It was hilarious and adorable simultaneously, and her love for her in-laws swelled.

Benedict looked up and saw her trying to stifle herself. “You think this is funny?” He asked with mock annoyance.

All she could do was nod as she snorted behind her hand. 

“Well, let’s see how you like it.” With a mischievous gleam in his eye he leapt up and captured her in his arms and immediately she felt the cold and wet seeping through. Squealing, she jumped away and managed to get her laughter under control.

“We really must get you out of those clothes.” She chuckled, brushing the last of the snow out of his hair.

Smiling but nodding wearily, Benedict peeled off his jacket and Sophie hung it in a corner where it began to drip a puddle onto the floor. He then moved to the buttons of his deep green waistcoat but his fingers were so slippery and stiff with cold that they slid helplessly. Sophie was reminded of the night they were reunited, so many years ago when he rescued her from the Cavender party and she had put him to bed with a fever. She had had to undress him then, when it was scandalous for her to do so. In the time since, it had grown to be one of her most favorite and frequent activities. 

“Darling, let me,” she said softly, working top to bottom to slip each button loose. He grinned down at her gratefully, but she could see his teeth practically chattering, and could feel the cold pouring off of him. She felt a stab of concern. “You really are freezing, aren’t you?”

She knew her husband would never admit to a weakness out loud, but he gave her a lopsided smirk and quirked his head in such a way that communicated an affirmative. It was still comical how he found himself in this position, but she wanted to ensure his well being. The holidays would be dampened if someone came down with pneumonia, after all.

After she pulled the waistcoat down his arms, she pushed her chair closer to the fireside and instructed him to sit. Then she gathered a blanket from the bed and draped it around his shoulders. Benedict’s brows tilted upward in that gentle way that expressed his gratitude and happiness, and she felt her heart skip. She knelt in front of him and pulled off his boots and stockings. He had beautiful feet. Every part of her husband was beautiful, it was almost infuriating. Sophie had an aversion to feet, even her own. She had spent so much time polishing others’ shoes that she just wanted to avoid thinking about them anymore. Except his. Like the rest of him, they were strong and tendoned, but still slender and elegant. She loved to massage them, and took them into her hands to chafe his icy skin.

He tilted his head back with a groan. “God, Soph, thank you.”

Switching to his hands, she pulled them into her own and rubbed them gently, admiring his lovely long fingers as she worked over his knuckles. “We must thaw you out, Mr. Bridgerton.” The sweet smirk she gave him spread a warmth through his chest and he leaned forward to kiss her. Sophie couldn’t resist the press of her husband’s lips, but a chill ran down her spine when he pulled away.

“Benedict, your lips are frozen.” And then something exciting and oh so wicked flashed through her mind. Still holding his hands in her own, she arched a brow and looked up at him through her lashes. “I suppose I must kiss the life back into them.”

Then she was in his lap, her hands around his neck as she massaged his lips with her own, trying to stir them back to warmth. Benedict let out a happy moan, surging into her kiss, certain that her tongue was the most effective tool to invigorate him. He wrapped his arms around her and she shuddered. He was still cold, his shirt and trousers damp with melted snow, the press of his nose and fingers spreading a chill into her skin. It was like kissing a marble statue, but she couldn’t deny there was something titillating about it, the shock of ice competing with the familiar heat stirring inside.

Wordlessly, as their kisses grew deeper, she slid the blanket he was wrapped in back against the chair, then pulled his shirt over his head. It always hitched her breath when she saw his naked torso, so lean and muscular, sprays of freckles across his pale collarbone. Tentatively, she placed her palms on his chest. His skin was clammy and he sighed contentedly.

“You are so warm, Sophie.” He breathed as she glided her hands over him, pressing, chafing, unsure if she was actually helping him. She could feel desire knotting in her gut and just wanted to touch him, to admire him and feel his muscles tense beneath her fingers. The fire was burning hot beside them, and Benedict’s eyes were growing darker as he watched her. She wanted him, and she knew the best way to heat him up.

Taking his stiff fingers in hers once again, she stood and placed them above the neckline of her dress, her skin prickling at his cool touch. Benedict’s jaw locked, and she couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or the cold. Slowly, she guided his hands outward to her shoulders, snagging her dress beneath their joined fingers and letting it slide down her frame and pool on the floor. Benedict swallowed visibly, staring up at her and letting her puppeteer his aching fingers to undress her, as she repeated the same motion with her chemise. 

“Sophie,” his voice was low and needy, his pupils black and wide.

“Warm your hands, my love,” she smiled coyly at him. “Just here,” and she slid his fingers up beneath her stays to hold her just below her breasts. While she pulled the laces loose behind her back, Benedict held still, feeling the swell of her ribs as she breathed, basking in the heat of her body under her clothes. Against his frigid skin, she felt searing. 

When her stays slipped down her arms, she repositioned his hands, cupping them over her breasts. When he encircled her, she let out a soft moan, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Benedict felt her nipples peak against his palms and cursed under his breath. Lord above, where did he find such a woman? Not only a breathtaking beauty, but one whose imagination in their intimacies never failed to surprise him. He was indeed warming up now, feeling his blood start to rush into all of his extremities.

As he held her breasts, Sophie raised her foot to his knee and bent to slowly roll the stocking down her leg. An animal noise rose from the back of his throat, and he found he had regained enough dexterity in his fingers that he was able to massage her soft flesh, kneading and tweaking, coaxing delightful noises out of her as well. Sophie continued with the other stocking, then shimmied her underskirt off of her hips and onto the floor. She stood now between his legs, fully nude and glowing in the firelight. She was precisely the flame that Benedict needed to warm himself by. 

In a few fluid motions, Sophie knelt again, unbuttoned his trousers and peeled them off of him, leaving him naked and breathing raggedly in the chair, staring up at her, completely under the control of her whims. 

“How are your fingers now, Mr. Bridgerton?” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Benedict’s eyes were hazy. “Nearly back to full strength.”

“Nearly?” Sophie tutted. “An artist needs use of his fingers more than anything. We must warm you more quickly.” 

Then she moved back toward him, straddled her legs across his and lowered herself to sit on his thighs, wrapping the blanket back around his shoulders. Benedict watched with rapt attention as she pulled his right hand between their bodies and down to the apex of her legs, pressing his palm into her slick folds. She felt on fire.

Sophie groaned, fighting against the roll of her eyes as the chill faded from his skin, spreading into her and melting against the heat of her desire. Then she brought his left hand to her mouth, guiding his two longest fingers down her throat.

Benedict made a strangled noise as he watched her in awe, gently rocking her soaking mound against the heel of his one hand while she sucked the fingers of his other as deeply and diligently as if it were his cock. His hands were alive again, well and truly thawed by the pulsing wet muscles of her cunt and her throat. But he didn’t want to tell her that. He wanted her to keep going. He needed it.

When he rasped out her name, she released his fingers from her mouth with a wet pop. “Is this helping, my love?” She teased. “Are you warming up?”

“Starting to,” he wheezed, desperate for more of her attentions. 

“I see,” her brow furrowed playfully. “Let me hold you close, my darling. I think that will do the trick.”

He nodded eagerly, then hissed when her hand wrapped itself around his cock, which had been rising to stand between them. With practiced motions, she smoothed his skin up and down his length, squeezing and tugging precisely the way he liked, though much slower than he wanted. His breath escaped in needy huffs as she stroked him, and in moments he was as rigid as steel.

“My poor, frozen Benedict,” she cooed, her voice somehow both comforting and deeply sinful. “I will help you. I will keep you warm.” Then she shifted forward, releasing his hand pinned between them, and sank herself onto his cock, easing him in to the hilt.

The both moaned loudly, unable to contain themselves. Benedict felt himself wrapped in molten bliss, the heat from Sophie’s core radiating out through his every vein. Though his limbs were still stiff with cold, his nerves were set alight, his every sense tuned to the warm, soft goddess enveloping him.

“Soph,” he panted. “My knees still need a minute. I don’t…”

“Shhh,” her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she drowned his concerns with a kiss. “You don't need to do anything. We are not going to move. I am just going to sit here and warm you until you are fully recovered.” She pressed her torso even tighter against his and spread her arms down the muscles of his back under the blanket. 

“Your back is still cold, my love,” she whispered in his ear as she began to swirl her hands, chafing his skin with a rhythm that threatened to pull him into a trance.

Benedict muffled a contented sigh into the crook of her neck and dropped his head to her shoulder, melting into her, letting her hold him, wrapped in her arms and legs and body. He pulled the blanket around her back to envelop them both, cocooning them with the heat they built together. Sophie worked her hands across his back and neck and thighs and scalp, massaging sensation into every inch of his body, coaxing his muscles awake to find themselves delightfully entwined with her. The melted snow in his hair sent one last glistening drop down his jaw and she licked it away, tasting the metallic effervescence of snow, mixed with the familiar salt of his skin. 

For half an hour, they simply held each other, murmuring sweet nothings into each other’s skin and lapsing into long, languorous kisses where their tongues danced. Benedict felt his entire body steadily returning to life. Better than a hot bath, his wife warmed him from the inside out. First he thawed, then he simmered, and now he was approaching a blaze, as his arms found the strength to grip her more tightly and his thighs, no longer numbed, felt the wet heat of her womanhood dripping down over his cock. He stirred in her arms more and more, and his kisses grew hungrier, more forceful.

While at first Sophie triumphed in the coquettish act of sitting speared on Benedict’s cock and focusing her attention on the rest of his body, with each passing minute it became harder and harder to ignore the delicious ache building inside her. He was seated so tightly within her, pressing all the way to her cervix, stretching her so pleasurably. His slight movements, even just his deep exhales while she massaged him, caused him to drag slightly inside her and it was all she could do not to cry out each time. She had grown so wet, so swollen, just from the prolonged solid weight of him, that she was now throbbing. 

He was fully restored, that was evident, as his breath grew harsher and she felt the heat rising between them both inside the blanket. The poor, sodden man frozen with snow had melted entirely, burned away by the devilish seducer who haunted her bed and unlocked all of her desires.

As Benedict wound his fingers into her hair and plunged his tongue into her mouth, her nipples rasped hard against his chest. She moaned and clenched around him, hurtling close to the edge.

“Soph,” he groaned, bracing her in his arms and bending her back toward his lap, ready to pummel into her.

“Ben, wait!” She gasped, clutching at his nape. She was flushed, her lips bruised from kissing, and she felt so close to the brink that she was nearly in tears. “Don’t move. I’m nearly…I’m so close, just from…just from the feel of you. Please, please darling. Finish me…finish me with your words.”

Benedict’s mind spun. It was both humbling and outrageously flattering that he could bring her to this point without even moving. The thought that he could talk her into a climax and feel her come apart as she lay still in his arms made his cock twitch excitedly. He lowered to pin their bodies together and rumbled directly into her ear.

“My magnificent little wife, are you already about to go to pieces?” 

Her fingers pressed harder into his neck as she whimpered in reply.

“And I haven’t even moved yet. I haven’t fucked you properly. You have just been toying with me like the minx that you are, sitting on my cock, holding me in your beautiful cunt.”

Needy noises escaped through Sophie’s nose and she began to gulp for air.

“But it worked, my lovely,” Benedict continued, trailing his lips softly down her neck. “You warmed me through. You took care of me. But it seems you are now the one in a state of distress. And you won’t let me move? You won’t let me fuck that need out of you?”

His voice reverberating through her whole body, Sophie cried out and began to squirm. Benedict tightened his grip on her like a vice, pressing her flush against himself.

“Ah ah ah, stay still. Don’t break your own rules.” He whispered fiendishly. “I want to see if this works too.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “If you are so mad for my cock that just feeling it will do you in. Are you that much of a wanton, Sophie? Is your sinful body that hungry for me? You are burning up…”

“Ben…” she panted, eyes screwed shut. “Please…”

“I can feel you quivering darling, getting so, so tight. God, you feel so bloody good. You’re going to do it aren’t you? You clever little thing. You’re going to come on me right now, and I didn’t even have to lift a finger. You love my cock that much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sophie squeaked, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she held her breath. She was climbing the last steps to the peak, teetering on the edge. The heat between them was so intense, the tight weight so torturous.

“Then prove it.” He growled. “Come on my cock with your swollen little cunt. Give in, Sophie. Make me feel it.”

And she broke, following his commands as if her body was an orchestra that he conducted. With a scream she arced against him, fingernails clawing into his neck, her whole body jolting and fighting the hold of his arms. Her channel gripped him, hard and repeatedly, the sensation so strong, white lights danced before her eyes. Benedict could feel every inch of her, every ripple and every shuddering breath washing over him. Almost in alarm, he felt himself give way too. Rocking her against his hips and moaning into her breastbone, he felt her milk him for all he was worth. The pulses of their muscles echoed through one another, skimming aftershocks as they clung together. The only sounds in the room were their uneven breaths and the gentle crackle of the fire.

Sophie lolled in Benedict’s arms, a satiated smile breaking out across her face. “I trust you are feeling better now, husband?” 

The next day, much to everyone’s surprise, Benedict insisted on a rematch snowball fight, and Sophie joined in as well. Though they lost sorely to the other couples, they didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, they were smiling as they headed indoors, soaked and snow-crusted head to toe.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp

[fiberturkey89]

Memorial (Dragons Rising Skylor Drabble)

Skylor stared at what was Nya's birthday pictures for the what was about thirteenth time today. Her eyes focused where the dates had been scratched out by a red marker- understanding as to why the Master of Water had taken the images from her and furiously began to scribble out the dates on both.

They'd been too busy to really do it at the time- but it had been Nya's birthday when she became one with the sea;

April 30th.

They had done a proper one when the time came around. At first, Nya was reluctant, brushing it off and downplayjng it as just another day on the calendar. But then Ray, Maya, and herself had shown up, alongside Garmadon and Misako, too.

Now here Skylor was; May first, three, nearing four years later, and only able to celebrate Nya's birthday once before The Merge took all of her friends from her. Umber slept in his nest quietly as Skylor leaned on a palm, seated at her kitchen table. Her memory doing all the work for her to put all the details of the birthday back into place.

Her eyes slowly went around the picture, smiling softly at the memory of what had been a happy but melancholy day - Kai and her were seated together, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, making a face while she tipped his nose in frosting. But his eyes betrayed a mirth in them; one seen only when he was with family.

Nya was beside Kai, and she was laughing with tears in her eyes at his failed attempt to flirt with her - Pixal and Zane bringing more food to the table with the help of Ray and Maya, the two Smith elders bearing proud smiles. The Nindroids talked to each other about something she couldn't really remember, but it did involve Zane helping with a girls' night out later. She did remember that part.

Morro, Cole, and Lloyd were fighting over the last plate of empanadas, the largest of the team keeping them out of reach while the kther two were doubling down on him and trying to get it out of his grasp. Lloyd hanging off of his arm while Morro was climbing up his back to reach for the plate.

Misako, Wu, and Garmadon were conversing awkwardly in the background - still getting used to one another after some time of being separated, and Skylor vividly remembering the latter gifting Nya a potted flower. Something about how "She rose up once more,". If you asked her, it was just his vague way of saying happy birthday.

A frown tugged on her lips when she remembered that Jay and Nya had a recent falling out. She even still had the note from the Master of Lightning, sitting placidly beside the little pile of photos. In fact, that's why he was absent from the photos themselves. He had been the one to take them.

Grasping the edges, she played with the paper, somehow having survived The Merge, covered in little stickers. It was his signature in a way. "Hey, Skylor? I know we don't really talk much at all - could you come over? Me and Zane and Pix and I wanted to throw a birthday party for her, and you two are pretty close, so it would mean a lot if you came."

She pulled up another image from the pile, all their spirits playing a game in the courtyard - playing dodgeball, eventually the Ninja had joined in on the fun, a snap shot of herself and Nya and Morro being the last ones standing against Mistral and Torrent.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair and staring outside into the illuminated city- her hands feeling the hunger for elemental powers as she beat them back. Kai's fire still clung stubbornly, but its flame was dying out- and she was afraid of when it would run its course.

Three years, and not a single hide nor hair of the Ninja. Eveen her knocks at the Monsastery, plus the barks from the Cockatrice wouldn't get a single response.

She knew they were alive, they had to be- she just wish they would come home to her sooner.

[elvisabutler]

spark ( chapter one: company )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician ) x female original character word count: 13957 told y'all it was just shy of 14k warnings: old southern church ladies being all up in people's business. not the best of marriages. talk of children. copious amounts of sweat. elvis preferring to wear a jumpsuit that's worn in versus getting a new one. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. a bit of negative self talk. this is not safe for work. i am not giving away anything else in these warnings. author’s note: first off the largest and most sincere of thanks to the ever delightful and loving marina who once upon a time just had whispers of a sort of off shoot/same vibe sort of thing for crawfever ( yes this is why this fic has gotten crawfever adjacent as a tag despite it not being the same thing ). and let me take them, burrow into her brain and find the bits and bobs that her brain had dreamed up but not been able to put into words. this fic would not exist without those whispers and without your edits. second, special thanks to my phenomenal wives and besties christi and birdy as well for you two know just how much you supported me in this from when marina did the whispers and i spewed what i affectionately called marina's brain herpes at you two, your screams and thoughts have been so powerful to get me to work on this. third, special other thanks to the charming @prompted-wordsmith for the edit job and the saving my ass on that one spot both me and marina could not figure out words for and putting up with my frankly excessive em dash use. beyond that, thank all of y'all who've enjoyed my vibes posts and have been getting excited based on what i've said to y'all, what marina has said to y'all, etc. just i'm very excited to show y'all this and i hope you enjoy. and quick tiny note, this is set in the 50s, so elvis is a wwii veteran and thus his birth and everything is pushed a little bit back to make this work.

“Call that handyman—the one from the church, I have to get to work,” her husband Nathan calls out as he leaves without a kiss exchanged between the two of them.

Words left unsaid die a quick death on her lips and tongue as she lets out a sigh. Once again she was left alone with barely a goodbye. She supposes she should be thankful he at least waited until she was awake. That he waited till she at least was conscious and able to ask him what she needed to, even if his response left so much to be desired. Call the handyman—Mr. Presley was his name, not that Nathan cared to know. After all, that would require him taking an interest in the church life or her sister’s life. It would require him to see the look on her face when she holds little Elizabeth while grabbing her from Sunday school or dropping her off at Sunday school for Melly. It would require… so many things.

Mr. Presley always told anyone to call Crown Electric and ask for him if they were in need. Some people argue it was some form of shrewd marketing but the pastor likes to reassure the congregation that Elvis, the godly and kind soul that he is, wouldn’t do that willy-nilly. Lilly’s hand shakes as she calls and reaches what she assumes is the receptionist before being reassured that he'll be over in a jiff. 

A jiff turns out to be a surprisingly quick time, no more than a half an hour before she hears a knock that somehow sounds delicate and gentle but is forceful enough for her to hear it easily. Adjusting her dress, she smoothes out an imaginary set of wrinkles, nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was because she feels so very silly calling up a handyman for this fix. Truly if she could she’s certain she could fix it herself and she knows Nathan had fixed this very problem before. And yet here she was, about to answer her door. Oh, she hopes he doesn't judge her too harshly—hopes he doesn't think less of Nathan or her. 

As she opens the door she is greeted by the sight of Mr. Presley in a simple olive jumpsuit that appeared to be a bit tight in the middle, his paunch pushing at the fabric the same as it appeared to do in the area of his thigh. It's strange for her to see him like this, far more rugged than he ever is in church or at the potlucks. Lilly swears her heart skips a beat in what she thinks is shock cause she looks up at Mr. Presley’s face and sees what is one of the most genteel and warm smiles she's ever seen on a person. 

"Mrs. Harris," Elvis greets Lilly with that smile that has Lilly's own lips curling into one even as she bites at her lip and tilts her head down.

"Mr. Presley. You came quickly," A statement of fact while hiding a question of why and how as she moves aside to allow him to enter her home. 

“It's not everyday lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt calls for help from me. In fact, I think this is ya first time," Elvis answers while keeping his gaze on her as he enters, carefully avoiding looking around the house. "Musta been an emergency."

"Lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt" shouldn't sting as much as it does and yet she feels herself wince just slightly at the idea of only being known as an aunt, never a mother. Of being known as a barren woman who defied her family's legendary fertility to have an empty house and a husband who tolerated her at best as of late.

"Oh you just have to try harder, Lilly. Must be something—in your diet. Or that stress of yours. Nathan days you've been downright mean when you talk sometimes."

She's been downright mean, it would take a downright mean person to know one wouldn't it? It would take a man who ignores his wife like Nathan does to recognize a woman who's mean when she talks. Frustrated is what Lilly was, dejected is what Lilly was. But mean? No, she tries too hard not to be mean that the idea of Nathan accusing her of such a thing is a betrayal of her heart.

Lilly sniffles slightly, attempting to play it off as allergies. "You could say that, Mr. Presley. Nathan had to rush out and I'm—I can't quite fix it myself. And you did say if anyone needed help with anything to make a call for you."

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before her sniffles hit him. It's as if a grenade has gone off in front of him. It's as if he can see the rubble of whatever had been in front of him at those small, barely-noticeable sniffles. Why…? There was no reason for her to be crying. 'Less she didn't want him to be here. Had he said something to offend her, something that made her emotional? Or was it embarrassment from needing to call him? He shouldn't reach out to touch her, shouldn't offer comfort he isn't sure she needs. But there's something about that small little sniffle that has him frowning and praying it's just allergies or the dust from his suit or something physical causing them. His hand moves to grab her own and—zzzt—that's when he feels a spark shoot into his hand, up his arm and settle in his chest. If he didn’t know any better he swears his heart skips a beat or two as he shakes his head.

"Know I'm not the most charming o' company Mrs. Harris but—I do good work. As for Mr. Harris, I'm sure he's busy bein' a good provider. Givin' ya everythin' ya need. Fixin' things can be a bit o' work for you young ones, ‘specially for the men after a long day. That's why you got ol’ fools like me. Fix things so ya don't gotta worry that pretty head of yours.”

Lilly's lips can't help but quirk into a smile, small as it is, at his words. They're not entirely comforting at face value but the longer she allows them to sit as she watches him set his bag down on the floor by her oven and make moves to actually do his job, the more they settle something inside of her. A final sniffle escapes her before she blows her nose by her sink, turning to face Elvis when she's finished.

Lilly's never put much stock in the idea that someone's entire aura and demeanor can change based on the clothes they wear. After all, she was the same person whether or not she was in her nightgown versus her dress or in the dresses she’d wear around the house compared to, say, her Sunday’s best. Mr. Presley, though, there’s something to be said about how he looks standing in front of her compared to how he looks every Sunday. There’s something to be said about how the jumpsuit he’s wearing almost looks too small for him but it’s just his middle that tightens the fabric. It’s just that paunch of his stomach yanking the fabric forward in an effort to contain him, stretching the fabric across his chest and making it so he has to leave the zipper partially undone before it reaches his neck. Her eyes refuse to linger on his lower half for too long but she can see how tight it is around his legs, around his thighs and she feels a shiver come over her for just a moment. This–this isn’t the same man who dresses in a full suit, jacket and all to church. This isn’t the same man who has his hair slicked back and his suit pants pressed like his mama’d taught him in church. 

This isn’t the same man she hands her niece off to every Sunday. No, this is another man entirely, a rugged down to Earth—salt of the Earth man. He’s a man who isn’t afraid to get dirty and afraid to work on things other people might stick their nose up at. He’s a man through and through and Lilly can’t help but wonder what else Mr. Presley’s been hiding. If there’s another side of him she hasn’t seen that is as fascinating and as invigorating to look at as this one. 

Not that she should be looking, not that the Lord wouldn't… perhaps this is why Nathan and her still have a fruitless marriage. A marriage of short kisses and dinner on the table and mothers who touch her belly and whisper how soon enough they'll be blessed. Perhaps with two at once. Maybe this is why the lord refuses to bless her—maybe if she didn't wish for company—covet her sister’s and her friends’ growing families. She could have company if she could keep Nathan home for longer than a few hours. 

Elvis’s mouth is opening and closing as if words are passing through them and Lilly blinks once, twice, three times before shaking her head to clear it of the thoughts that have started to swirl around it. "I'm sorry Mr Presley, could you–could you repeat what you just said. My mind went… I started trying to figure out what I could scrounge up in case this takes too long.”

There’s a chuckle, warm and inviting that leaves Elvis’s lips at the explanation before he shakes his head. “Got that little faith in me, Mrs. Harris? Think ya gonna be without an oven for a whole day? I’ll have this fixed up in in an hour, two if that.” He pauses and smiles. “Most of the time, it’s somethin’ real simple. Like ya said, you or Mr. Harris could’ve fixed it but ya both got things to do. Him, goin’ to work and bringin’ home the money and you, uh, takin’ care of… the house.” 

Lilly’s chest tightens at his words, at how he stops mid sentence. She knows perfectly well what he was going to say, that she would be taking care of the children and the house, but the house is as empty as her womb. There’s a warmth to it, of course, attempts at making things as inviting as can be and yet there’s always the gust of cold air from the fridge or from the screen door opening and closing making the house feel even emptier than it is. Emptier in a way it doesn’t feel right in this moment with someone else in the house. Not with someone like Mr. Presley taking up so much space in her kitchen just from height and bulk by his lonesome. Maybe even just from his presence alone. Still, his words settle her fear just a bit as she watches him bend down to open her oven. She can’t help how her eyes linger on the worn fabric stretched across his backside and under, between his legs. They’re right there, and she hadn’t meant to look, she was just about to say something to him, something that’s been swallowed up by every thought that slams into her head at the vision in front of her. Oh, she–she’s just on edge from this morning and how Nathan left so quickly. That’s all this is, nothing more, nothing less. She takes a breath and moves to grab a pitcher from her lower cabinets unaware that Elvis had looked back to ask something of her before being presented with the sight in front of him. It’s nothing untoward, and is purely chaste but there’s something about the way her dress tightens just a smidge around her backside that has him swallowing his tongue and moving to stick his head in the oven with a flashlight to see what might be the problem.

 

The problem as he expected was something simple, an easy fix with a part he has in his bag but he notices how there’s a few other things that could be dealt with while he’s down here. He should charge her for them, but… he finds he doesn’t want to. Finds that spending time in her company is worth the extra time he’d be spending in her oven. Especially when he hears her voice softly singing some—he thinks that might be Jo Strafford but he can’t be sure. There’s an element of homeliness that has him sighing while in the oven. Normally he feels this sense of ease in church and here he is with Mrs. Harris and she makes him feel just the same. 

“Mr. Presley, are you alright? Do… Is it worse than you thought?” He hears her soft voice above him and bashes his head against the top of the oven, cursing slightly as he does. 

“‘M fine. It’s fine Mrs. Harris. Jus’ looking at the work I gotta do. Definitely—gonna take all two of those hours I promised ya but it’ll be good as new when I’m finished with it,” Elvis answers, rubbing at his head and moving his arm down to rummage through his bag, worried about how he’d look if he bothered to pull himself out from inside the oven. 

The problem with doing that, the problem with hiding away in the oven as he does, is that even though the thing isn’t on, it’s stifling in the summer heat. Roasting him slowly but surely as he feels beads of sweat enter his eyes and slightly fog up his glasses. His free hand, unoccupied with his work, moves to grab a cloth he has on his belt just to wipe at his eyes. He hopes he doesn’t get any dirt on them. Meanwhile above him, Lilly busies herself with puttering around the kitchen. She’s making lemonade that’s almost as sweet as her sweet tea, but only because she’s never really enjoyed how sour lemons can be, sure that was supposed to be part of the allure but—Lilly’s never been that sour of a person. Instead more full of sugar sweet smiles and sweet Southern charm that had her husband falling at her feet when they were teenagers and had his parents eating out of her hand the moment she said hello. 

It takes Elvis damn near the whole two hours to finish, finally managing to finish a little bit after lunch time. Just enough time for LIlly to whip up something real quick, nothing too fancy, but Nathan would understand in this case, after all, it’s not as if he had fixed it before work. She hears Elvis’s groan from inside the oven and she can’t help the way she crouches down at the noise, making sure her legs are covered with her dress and moving to hold out her hand in an effort to help him pull himself out from inside her oven. She notices the dirt on his hands but doesn’t mind in the slightest, knowing she’s got a functioning sink and from that groan he honestly just might need a hand getting up out of it. There's a hesitation and an aborted attempt to swat her hand away before he takes it as both their arms twitch at the same time when their hands touch. 

"Didn't shock ya, did I, lil darlin'?" His voice sounds distant for a moment as he uses the leverage from her hand to scoot himself out and then pull himself up into a sitting position. 

“No, Mr. Presley, you didn’t—” Lilly’s words trail off as she looks at Mr. Presley’s face and notices just how covered in sweat it is. It shouldn’t be that sweaty, she thinks, it shouldn’t look like he’s practically used her garden hose in the back to hose himself down. That rag should’ve been used to mop up the glittering beads rolling down his cheekbones and collecting in the dip of his cupid’s bow. Unless he has somehow lost the ability to put it to use—but as Lilly’s eyes trace down his strong forearm she finds it’s translucent in a way that brings to mind summers outside and gigglingly waving at the boys across the lake. Being in a confined space like her oven would cause something like this, would cause someone to sweat as much as this but seeing it in front of her, seeing it before her very eyes has Lilly struck a bit speechless. There’s a glass of lemonade in her hand that she plans on offering Mr. Presley but the words refuse to come out, caught in her throat as she just stares at him. Stares at the sweat covering his face and his hair and making there be this curl among all the chocolate brown plastered to his head. It shouldn’t—it isn’t attractive on Nathan or any other boy she had ever seen look similar to this after a football game or after a hard day of entertaining outside. Yet here was Mr. Presley looking so very attractive that Lilly can’t find the words to describe it. This could not be the man she had seen so many times at church, at Sunday School when she dropped off her niece. 

Elvis is confused the longer he looks at Lilly, the longer he sees her staring at him like he’s a prime cut of meat. That—he hasn’t seen that look on a woman since after the war, since before his overeating and the nightmares and the grief and the visions he can’t ever stop thinking of unless he’s working. Sure, there’s still the few who try and set him up with their daughters who they figure can’t find another man and the few widows who remember how he was when he first came back to Memphis. But someone who’s Lilly’s age looking at him like that? Like she might be willing to pounce on him despite the ring on her finger? Oh, that was… That is something he cannot entertain, that has to be the heat finally getting to him, finally making him imagine things that certainly aren’t there. There’s no conceivable way someone as sweet as Miss Lilly, Mrs. Harris, Lilly, would ever be looking at him like that. His eyes drift down to the glass in her hand and a grin threatens to overwhelm his face as he grabs it with a simple thanks and starts to down the drink without a care in the world.

Lilly’s eyes watch as a single sweat drop rolls down his skin. Mr. Presley’s neck is stretched out as he drinks, Adam’s apple bobbing. The drops of water on the outside of the glass fall to his neck. They join their sweat brothers in rolling slowly but surely down his throat, tracing a path her mind whispers to her about chasing with her tongue as she had more than once before with Nathan. They roll down past his collarbone and down to his chest—his exposed chest because of that stupid zipper. They make a home in the patch of sweat and musk and warmth that is his chest hair and Lilly’s mouth opens to let out a choked-off squeak, she thinks. Or maybe it was her choking on her own breath, on her own tongue as she tries to say something, tries to tell Mr. Presley to set down the glass or drink slower or that he missed so much sweat on his body. Maybe–maybe it went all the way down, oh, maybe it…no, she cannot entertain this idea, she cannot entertain the way her mind wants to explore the possibilities. Tonight Nathan can help rid her of these thoughts, he can help her forget how she sees all this sweat gliding down another man’s skin. Down Mr. Presley’s skin, down the skin of someone who teaches Sunday school and wears tight jumpsuits that leave nothing to the imagination. The thoughts swirl and swirl as she clenches her thighs together and rubs them against each other. There is a smooth, slick quality to the glide that makes a flush of shame rise to the very apples of her cheeks, or maybe that’s the way Mr. Presley’s body is burned into her mind.

“Oh.” She exhales the word, swaying a little before she shakes her head, “Mr. Presley. You— Your—” Lilly shuts her eyes before continuing. “Are you enjoying the lemonade? My lemonade?”

“My lemonade”? What was she thinking, it was just lemonade, she didn’t have a claim over it, she didn’t want to know if Elvis enjoyed something of hers. That way of thinking—no, she just wanted to make sure she had made it correctly. That she had made it the right amount of sweet for him to enjoy and for it to quench his thirst. A repayment for making him do such a silly job as he just finished doing for her. Her eyes meet his as she finally is able to take her eyes off of his neck, off the vein in his neck that throbbed as he swallowed, at the way his swallows allowed the droplets of sweat and water roll down his throat. Her hand twitches with a desire to touch and hold. 

“I loved it. Sweet as anything I‘ve ever had.” He licks his lips, tasting the tangy salt of his sweat cutting through the sweetness of her lemonade. It’s not a lie, he truly does enjoy her lemonade, but he thinks–he thinks he might enjoy her company more, enjoy how she asks if he’s alright and worries about him enough to give him lemonade after he swears he’s practically sweat through his own jumpsuit. Not many people extended such domestic kindness to him anymore. He was Elvis the Pelvis, Elvis the Sunday School teacher, he was Elvis the electrician, but never just Elvis. He wasn’t ever just a man that a pretty wife might offer lemonade to. “Ya mind if I have another glass?” 

The way she hands over the pitcher is almost robotic or automatic and Elvis can’t help the way his hand shoots out to grab it, his fingers brushing over hers yet again igniting another spark between them. It’s not possible and yet he swears he feels it from his fingertips up to the top of his arm. Lilly pulls back her hand quickly, cradling it against her chest. “You can have th-the whole… the whole pitcher if you need.” 

Elvis laughs, the idea almost as comical as the way she says it with a straight face. Pouring the glass, he shakes his head at her and shrugs, “Can’t polish one of these off myself. If I had help now—” 

There’s something inside of Lilly that loosens at those words, at the playful nature of them despite how there is perhaps a flirtatious edge to them. It’s as if there was something inside of her that she hadn’t realized was a problem before that evaporated at Mr. Presley’s laugh and at his smile. It felt like true enjoyable company, the sort of company you’re supposed to have with your friends and your husband, but Lilly can’t remember the last time she felt it with anyone other than her sister. Her mild bitterness at swollen bellies and husbands who came by and kissed their wives on their cheek, happy to see them and see their handiwork coloring her happiness to see friends. God hadn’t seen fit to grace her womb with a child, and Nathan was alright with that despite Lilly’s pleas so she had dropped it all the while pushing those friends away, the reminder of the dream she wanted slipping farther and farther out of her grasp, through her fingers like the sand on the beach. 

Lilly smiles and grabs the other glass on the table, it is normally Nathan’s but she can set out another one, she can do the dishes before he arrives home while dinner is cooking. She sets it right in front of Elvis. “If you’ll do me the honor of pouring it. If you’re a gentleman.”

The laugh sounds almost sinister when it leaves his mouth, a dark sort of thing but the warmth in it has Lilly realizing that perhaps it’s a special laugh. Maybe it could be his laugh for only her. Nathan had one of those for her, once upon a time. She misses that laugh and to have another person give one to her is… it warms her soul from the inside out and she swears she feels a part of her, a part she knows has been snapped in half for the past year at least snaps back into place. His words are almost missed but when she focuses, puts him back in focus, she hears him clear as day as he pours her a glass. "God and my mama'd strike me down if I wasn't a gentleman, 'specially to you, Lil darlin."

There it was again. A nickname. Nathan never gave her one, told her that her name was already short enough and pretty enough and yet here was Mr. Presley giving her one. It’s an open secret he’s liberal with his use of nicknames and yet hearing one perhaps only for her has her heart fluttering in her chest, fluttering against the confines of the bones keeping it inside. Lil darlin, a shortened version of Lilly and darling in one simple nickname. Her body warms at the implication of familiarity. “Thank you, Mr. Presley.” Her teeth move to worry at her lower lip as she toys with a question inside her head before looking at him. “Would–Would you like to stay for dinner? Nathan—Mr. Harris might be late and I’m—you’re charming company.”

The way she starts and stops in asking makes Elvis want to say yes, wants to put her at ease and tell her there’s perhaps nothing he’d like to do more that afternoon, but his eyes drift down to her ring glinting in the light and he sighs, shaking his head. The thought is tempting, but thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery. While he may not do the second, he knows if he stays much longer he’s likely to do the first. “Not—I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Harris, but I have to get home. Maybe. A raincheck?”

A raincheck. A promise of maybe another time. A promise of if things were different he would say yes in a heartbeat. A promise that if he could he would stay sitting at her dining table and drink lemonade as she cooked dinner for her husband. Her husband, the one she cares for and loves with all her heart. He— He— There should be no raincheck and yet he wants her to agree to one.

“A raincheck.” Her face had fallen as he let her down easy before the mention of the raincheck, the mention of it making her smile once again. The mention of it having her smile and beam and bloom like her flower namesake, soaking in the attention as if it was water meant to nourish her and fulfill her. “Of course. You—Just finish as much of the lemonade as you’d like and you can see yourself out, if that’s alright? Just—so I can make dinner and have it done on time.”

His eyes watch as she stands up, smoothing out her clothes and sees how she practically glides across the floor of the kitchen as if she’s a natural in it. Her body moves as if it’s used to being around people and used to having people underfoot and Elvis is struck by how it feels like something is missing watching her, feels as if something doesn’t seem right in the picture. There should be someone else near her. He—no, that’s not a path he’ll go down today. After another ten minutes of him just watching her work and two more glasses of lemonade, he sets down the glass and makes his way out the door. “Goodnight, Lil darlin’!”

It feels a little dirty, the way when he gets home and is in bed for the night his cock jumps at the memory of her staring at his chest. He knows she's married, saw the ring clear as day in the sunlight but that look. He only remembers that look from June when he took her once upon a time. Had her husband not been giving her what she needed? Had she not been given the proper water to blossom? Had he been leaving her to wilt inside their shared home that she kept so well? Had he–had he deprived her of the ability to put down roots? The idea knocks the air out of his lungs and has him praying for forgiveness no more than five minutes later as he wipes his hand on a dirty shirt nearby.

Elvis doesn’t see Lilly until that Sunday in church, and yet his mind wanders to her when he’s working with other people’s issues. None of them are as simple as hers was and it makes him almost angry that he’s stuck spending his time with these issues when hers were over far too quick. Time flies when you’re having fun, but had he been having fun? Or was it just that God himself knew better than to allow him to stay in her house for too long, the urges he could feel flowing through his veins almost too hard to ignore. When he does, though, when he does he sees her in the most gorgeous of dresses, a simple baby blue number that matched her sister’s and matched her brother in law's tie. He expects to see her husband. Nathan, she had called him, and instead only sees the three of them and one small little girl in Lilly’s arms. Little Lizzie being carried by Lilly and looking so at ease and happy in her arms that Elvis’s heart twists at the image. A woman like that, a woman who can get a child that was less than a year old to be so calm and collected in a sea of people… now that’s a woman who ought to have a passel of kids, a football team of children. A platoon of children behind her, all in single file, smitten husband bringing up the rear. Yet here she was on a Sunday without her husband and tagging along as an extra hand, helping her sister who, if rumors were to be believed, was expecting again. He sees her wave off her sister and brother in law before she walks toward him, a soft smile on her face.

“Mr. Presley,” Lilly murmurs softly as Lizzie yawns in her arms and snuggles closer. “I was going to hand her off to you but I don’t think I can. I think she’d much prefer to keep her pillow.” She looks down at her niece before looking up at him. “I—If it’s alright, do you mind if I stay here?”

His hand moves in such a way as to brush off her concern. Did he mind if she stayed there? What sort of silly question was that. Did he mind if a woman who occupied his mind as he pleasured himself stayed in here with him. He has to bite back a laugh. If he could he’d let her stay in this room with him until time eternal, until the rapture where those who were worthy would be saved. She would be saved and perhaps–perhaps, if he could resist, he would have mended enough fences with God for him to do the same thing.

“I can always use the extra help, Mrs. Harris.” He motions to the children already around him. “They can be a bit of a handful.”

A laugh that sounds like the church bells ringing leaves her mouth as Elvis watches her bloom like she did at her house. There’s… It’s strange, seeing her so happy because of words he’s saying, almost as if he’s the reason she has to smile and she’s soaking up every bit of attention he can give her. Elvis has never fancied himself a gardener by any means but for her he thinks he might be one. Her husband should nurture her as she nurtures him and their children when they have any and yet he wonders if he does. He wonders if the boy, Nathan, realizes what he seems to be doing to Lilly, how her petals fall without attention, how she withers without his care, without his water nourishing her soul, her body and filling—Elvis shakes his head to clear it. 

“You always handle them so well, Mr. Presley. You’re a natural, I think.” The question is on the tip of her tongue, the question of why Elvis doesn’t have children of his own but she stops herself, she stops herself because it’s none of her business why. Maybe he just never found the right woman—a shame, she thinks. He would make a great husband from what she’s been able to see. A loving husband. A caring husband. So wrapped up in her own thoughts she very nearly misses him speaking to her as she sits down, shushing Lizzie’s protests at the movement and making sure the little ones around her quiet down.

"Surprised ya don't have children, Lil Darlin', ain't ever seen a woman be a natural with 'em like you," Elvis says, peeking over the rims of his glasses to a child who looked about ready to cause a complete ruckus. His focus is purely on that as he misses her wince and the way her hand reaches out to rub at her stomach, almost as if to mourn the lack of children from her womb.

"Nathan and I… We've been trying. Less often, lately, but—oh I don't—it just hasn't happened. God's saved those blessings for my sister. Little Lizzie and, and the one she's carrying now." Lilly bites her lip, trying not to let the tears she feels pooling in her eyes fall. She’s in public and Mr. Presley is just an acquaintance as of now, he doesn’t need to see the emotion she’s only ever reserved for her sister, Melly. A sniffle escapes her before she can stop it and Elvis’s hand reaches to grab a handkerchief from his pocket to give her to blow into and to dry her eyes. She takes it gladly.

"God'll gift ya one soon enough, be a cryin' shame if he didn't." A true statement of fact disguised as a reassurance. Elvis doesn’t think there’d be any true justice in the world if the Lord didn’t bless her with a child or several. Even now as they talked just her presence seemed to calm the children as they sat near her, waiting expectantly for him to tell a story or sing a song. Even Lilly dabbing his handkerchief at her eyes looked as if she was waiting for him and what he would do. As much as he wants to continue to talk with her, he thinks perhaps he should just entertain her. He thinks he should show off what he can do for her. His mind doesn’t dwell on the meaning behind it, instead choosing to dwell on how all he wants to do in that moment is watch Lilly be happy with her niece in her lap while she makes children listen and remain calm even if they are excited. 

The class is the calmest one he’s had in at least a year.

Things keep breaking in Lilly’s house and if Elvis was a suspicious man—if Elvis felt any hope when it came to Lilly, he would venture she called him on purpose. He would venture that she wants to see him and perhaps breaks things to do just that and yet they’re so different, each thing that’s broken, that he thinks perhaps it’s honestly things just breaking. The one true joy involved in it, though, beyond seeing her face when he’s fixed yet another thing is how she smiles when she sees him. 

Elvis is a man. Elvis is a man who can’t help himself sometimes. Elvis is a man who is not perfect. Elvis is a man who cannot and will not avoid the temptation of at least seeing Mrs. Harris more often. He learns Nathan rarely comes home on time except for certain days. He learns how great of a cook Lilly is, the smells wafting around the house when he works. He learns she’s a great cook because he’s tasted it at her insistence that he take home the food she’s made, if not insisting that he comes and eats with her. There is a part of him that thinks he’s playing her husband, replacing the man who is never home and is rarely at church with his wife despite how much it means to her. But Elvis knows he isn’t her husband. Despite what he does when it comes to cooking with her, despite how every so often his body betrays him, pictures her beneath him or on top of him, taking him in a way he wouldn’t think she could… he never acts on it. He never tells her. They haven’t crossed any lines, they are just friends who are becoming closer the more and more time they spend together. Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and before he realizes, before either of them realize it’s been three months and another thing has broken. Something feels different as he finishes up and prepares to leave only to realize that he can’t, not with her the way she seems to be on this particular day. 

He knows he should have already left, knows that her husband is liable to be back sooner rather than later, after all today isn’t a day he normally goes straight out with his friends. Today is a day he comes home to eat dinner with his wife, perhaps—enjoy other pleasures with his wife and then leave with his friends. It is a Friday, he has the rest of the weekend to spend with the boys and he knows Lilly will be with him on the Saturday with their wives and Sunday during church and the potluck afterward, not that he enjoyed going to them. But Lilly looks so… she looks so in need of company, something had happened the night before, he reasons, something had caused her soul to curl in on itself to the point where she doesn’t talk nearly as much as she normally would with him. Sure, they had still been floating around each other, and she answered a question here and there and would check to make sure he wasn’t accidentally shocking and hurting himself but there was no humming above him, no subtle roll of her hips that made him ache when he was alone at home. Done with his work, he washes his hands in Lilly’s sink, watching as she busies herself putting the finishing touches on her dinner before she pops it into the oven he fixed a few months ago. Yet he can’t shake the feeling that something else in this house needs to be fixed beyond the oven and beyond the wiring he had fixed tonight. He’s never been one to leave a job undone or hastily finished only for it to fall apart some time later for someone else to repair, damage caused by his carelessness. His eyes against his better judgment watch as she bends, watch as her dress rises and stretches around her backside, highlighting it in a way that has him averting his eyes. When he hears the quiet slam of the oven closing he finally looks back at her and is met by her wiping her brow for a moment before staring at him. 

“Do I have something on my face?” The question is so innocent he almost laughs. She has nothing on her face. There’s nothing wrong with her face other than the fact that it’s marred by a frown instead of—at the very least—the small smile he’s used to seeing from her. He wants to fix it, he wants to keep her from wilting, make it so she can continue to bloom the way she has been from the moment they properly met outside of church. 

“Ah… No, Lil Darlin, you don’t. Ya jus’—did somethin’ happen with you and Nathan last night? Ya look awfully sad and I—you weren’t even hummin’ today. Felt like I needed to put on a record it felt so quiet in the kitchen.” Elvis tries to choose his words carefully and even so Lilly’s face falls just a hair as she sighs. 

“Oh. I–I didn’t realize it looked so obvious. I…We were supposed to go on a date, Mr. Presley. We were supposed to go on a date and he was supposed to take me dancing because we haven’t in over a year and I miss it. But—there was a business meeting that ran late and by the time he got home I was too tired and the dance hall was—”

“Closed,” he finishes off for her, knowing full well what time every dance hall in the general area of Memphis closed. He knew full well that the only one that might have stayed open past a normal time was the army one and Nathan, unlike him, was not an army man. No, he was merely a boy–a boy playing at doing business and taking care of his wife financially but not emotionally. There it was again, that deep unceasing urge to fix it, that urge to fix this even if it’s not his place to try to fix anything beyond her appliances and her wiring. His fingers twitch against the side of his leg as he feels them both loosen, one even bouncing just slightly. It’s as if his body is trying to rev up while his mind reminds him with a traitorous whisper he still has every bit of equipment needed to help—to fix this, even if it's all more than a bit rusty. He can shake off that rust just fine, if it was for her. 

 “I… Lil Darlin. If—I know how to dance. Know I don’t look it, with this paunch,” he gives his stomach a light slap that has it jiggling just a bit and has Lilly’s eyes widening and a flush of desire coursing through her veins, wondering how that would feel under her hands, not that he notices. “But I used to do a lot of swing dancin’, if—I could dance wit’ ya if ya want me to. Ya can say no, but the offer’s there.”

For a moment, Lilly just stares at Elvis as if he’s grown an extra head. Surely he’s saying this in jest, he doesn’t mean what he’s asking, he isn’t offering to treat her better than her husband did. He isn’t offering to dance with her in the kitchen or the living room. That’s–that’s such a silly notion that despite how their relationship, their friendship has grown he can’t be caring for her more than her husband does. The laugh that escapes her sounds harsh even to her own ears as she winces at the sound, her eyes meeting his as if there's a million and one apologies on her tongue. His eyes make every apology that tries to form disappear in every breath she takes. He's not angry, doesn't think she's mocking him with her laughter. As always he realizes she just thinks he’s joking or that there is no way he actually wishes to do what he’s mentioned because after all, if her own husband doesn’t want to dance with her why would a stranger or a friend of sorts want to? That’s not something you do for a woman when you aren’t married to her. Swing dancing in her living room, that has to be a joke. 

Her voice is quiet, though, once she stops laughing and notices how Elvis still looks like he might be expecting an answer, as if she hadn’t practically mocked the mere idea of them swing dancing in her living room. Maybe—oh, maybe he was being genuine. Oh, he was far too good to her, indulging her silly wants and desires as if they were married instead of just merely friends. "You're… you don't have to." There. There, she had given him a chance to take back what he offered and made it so they could move on from this—move on from what such an offer meant to her and how she could feel her throat tightening and her heart in her chest twisting. 

Elvis takes a moment to just take her in, take in the way her body seems to wilt at the mere idea of him not dancing with her and the idea of him taking her up on her offer of taking back what he agreed to. The breath that leaves him is overtaken by a laugh, though he tries to stifle it. He holds out his hand and moves to the living room. "Lil Darlin', wouldn't've offered if I didn't. Gonna have to forgive me if 'm rusty. Haven't done it in a while."

"Neither have I." 

He's sure he feels a muscle in his jaw tense at those words before he shakes his head to clear it. Soon enough her husband would realize how much he's let his wife wilt from lack of attention, from lack of water to nourish her body and soul. For now though, for now he’s here to help her, to make her smile and be happy in a way she deserves to be. Her hand is soft enough that he almost feels wrong touching it with his callus-filled ones. It feels wrong to have such soft skin against his own but at the same time, it settles something deep within him to feel her hand in his and to feel her pressed against his body. He takes a moment to put on a record, praying it actually is something they can dance to only to realize it’s “Sing Sing Sing”, a song he’s danced to more times than he cares to count. Laughter erupts from in a fit of pure joy as he sees Lilly’s face light up when they start to dance. 

There should be a bit of awkwardness that only comes from when you first try to dance with a new partner, and yet they fall into a rhythm so natural his mind swirls with the possibility of dancing with her like this the rest of his life. Her feet move in step with his, easily avoiding his own, before he grabs her to pick her up, a move he hasn’t done in almost a decade but he does with an ease that shocks him as she giggles, the sound adding to the music as if it’s another horn. He’s getting dizzy with the sheer joy of hearing it. It feels so natural to swing and toss and lift her up as she smiles brighter than anything he’s ever seen. It looks like the sunrise in France when there was those brief moments of peace. All he can think is how that smile needs to be there every second of the day, that’s a smile that deserves to be seen, deserves to be shown off to everyone and yet—and yet he hopes not even her husband has seen this smile. Perhaps this is just for him and his swing dancing with her. Maybe no one else has seen this smile, because he swears even when he was younger he didn’t move nearly like this, didn’t smile so hard his cheeks are burning from the use. 

Elvis is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he misses her foot positioned a certain way when he moves to pick her up for another lift and stumbles. A short curse leaves his lips as he moves to fall on one knee with Lilly falling onto his other knee. He hisses at the pain, knowing he’ll regret this move later, but he couldn’t have her falling to the ground, couldn’t have her risk being injured because he couldn’t catch her—because he lost his footing like a klutz. Except Lilly is still laughing, she’s still laughing and still putting off every bit of joy in the world in his lap. His eyes run down her body, seeing how she’s breathless, her chest heaving and pushing the buttons of her dress. He shouldn’t look and yet he sees, he sees how her chest is heaving in delight. As if to help himself—to keep himself from staring even longer his eyes dart down to her legs, down to her thighs where, oh Lord, her dress has risen up just a hair. Just enough to reveal more of her thigh, to reveal a hint of a stocking that has his mouth drying up the longer he stares. Her legs haven’t seemed to catch up with her brain and the rest of her body, thinking they’re still on the ground and needing to kick up and down almost like a child. There’s a playful exuberance in the action as she appears to not have a care in the world despite how the action has her dressing riding up that little bit more as she continues to giggle and kick at the air in his lap. The skin and the stockings threaten to overwhelm him as he feels the stirring in between his legs a moment too late as he sees Lilly’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” A singular word yet one that packs such a punch as he realizes what it means. What it means for her to utter it to him like that when she’s in his lap as his cock rises to attention like he’s back fresh from the army, wanting to dance with a new girl every night and yet here is one singular woman reacting in such a calm and startled way that he has to stop himself from tossing her off of him in a huff. Still, he lightly pushes at her in an effort to keep her from feeling just how aroused he is only to have her hand reach out and touch his face. Against his will, he nuzzles into her palm before remembering that he needs to make sure she’s not… she needs to be away from his lap. The—his cock—Lil Elvis was not needed here, she was married and he was not that young soldier returning from war any more, no he was merely this fat old man who let himself go and found himself lusting after a fellow church goer’s wife. His young wife. 

He misses her words before she repeats them, allowing them to cut through the haze he feels from having her looking up at him happy in his lap. “Your knee! I’m so sorry, Mr. Presley.” Her words are said in a rush as she scrambles to get up, her hand accidentally brushing across his cock before she finally stands up and holds out her hand. “Let me help you up, are you alright—?”

“‘M fine.” Elvis grunts out, as he pulls himself up using Lilly’s hand and his own strength. He hears his knee crack, wincing as it does. “Jus’... Lil–Lil darlin, I gotta, I need to go.”

Needs to get out of her house, needs to not be in front of a woman who has his cock standing at such intense attention that he knows if she looks down she’ll be shocked and horrified at him. He’s committing such an egregious sin even thinking of her this way, even viewing her in the light of a romantic partner, a sexual partner. Viewing her as his—no, he needs to find his way to his truck and to his house to be free of this temptation that he worries he’s about to succumb to. His eyes notice how her face falls but she doesn’t try to stop him, instead frowning and stepping away, smoothing out the bottom of her dress. As if he’s running away—fleeing her presence like all the other men in her life. He moves quicker than he has any right to, right on past her, forgetting about niceties and being a gentleman and wanting to make her happy, shutting the door behind him.

It only takes Lilly a few minutes to realize that she forgot to ask him something about Sunday school and his plans for this week. The question isn’t perhaps important but to her it is. And Mr. Presley has never once made her feel unimportant, so it is without hesitation that she trots outside to where she sees him still in his truck in her driveway muttering angrily to himself while looking down. Her mama had always told her it was rude to eavesdrop and yet here she was doing exactly that as she walked up to the truck, not immediately announcing her presence. She hears curses and mentions of his cock and “she’s a nice young woman, why are ya standin’ at attention like she ain’t married, boy. Like ya ain’t attached to an old man she’s jus’ spendin’ time with to be nice.” 

Lilly wants to correct him, wants to tell him that she values his company because it’s better than anything she’s received in so long and yet she doesn’t, instead choosing to come up to his side of the truck and lean against the window before moving just enough that she’s leaning her head inside the truck as well. What she sees—she could not have prepared herself for what she sees.

Feeling his interest in her is one thing that can be explained through the two of them dancing in a way that had her moving against him. It’s a natural response. Feeling it when she collapsed onto his knee, breathless and laughing with enough joy that she wishes she could chase till the ends of the Earth is one thing. Coming out to his truck because she forgot to ask him about his plans for Sunday school this week and seeing that same interest still there was another thing entirely. Lilly tries to keep her eyes focused on his face, tries to not allow her natural position of leaning into the car to make it easier for her to look down between his legs but her eyes drift there against her will. Her eyes drift and the olive of the suit doesn’t allow him to hide what’s going on. Instead it broadcasts exactly what he feels between his legs. 

There is a spot slowly growing in size on his jumpsuit. There is a spot where she felt his arousal. There is a wet spot on his jumpsuit for her. No, because of her. Mr. Presley is aroused by her, he’s aroused so much that it’s seeping through his clothing. Even when she was younger and fooling around with Nathan she hadn’t seen someone react to her as strongly as Mr. Presely is right now. The concept of breathing is foreign as she keeps looking down at it and she swears she sees the fabric twitch under her gaze. Somehow that twitch and the accompanying noise—the whimper, maybe—from him is almost like a harsh smack to her back to force the air to leave and enter her lungs. 

“Lil—Mrs. Harris.” Elvis’s words are choked out and he thanks God that his stutter didn’t reappear in that moment, the shame of everything making his skin feel flush and warm even as his cock twitches under her gaze, aching and wanting to play with its new friend, its friend it yearns for same as his heart and mind. Damn the societal norms and what’s proper for a good Christian man, he wants, he wants, he needs her to stop looking at it. “I’m—my face is up here.” His hand tightens against his thigh after he says that, almost as if he wants to wince. “What do ya need?”

Her eyes finally wrench themselves from the spot even as his cock twitches yet again, a wave of goodbye to her eyes—to her. What had she needed to tell him? What–What did she need from him other than—? No, it was church. God. It was about Sunday School. A shaky exhale leaves her mouth before she speaks. “I-I just wanted to make sure you–you might want my help again this week with the children? I know that since everyone—all the children seem to have gotten over the tummy trouble that we’ll—you’ll have your hands full and I—” 

The more she speaks the more her mind cycles back to what she’s seen, the more her breaths come by shorter and quicker, her chest heaving right near Elvis’s eye level and that… her dress has just enough of a sliver of skin showing he can see them heave with only her brassiere on, it’s threatening to drive him mad, threatening to cause him to reach out the hand he’s fisting into his jumpsuit to touch the skin. To touch her skin and feel if it’s as soft as it is on her arms and her thigh and— 

“Yes!” His answer is barked out, sounding more like an order than him merely answering a simple question in the affirmative. Forcing it out is the only thing he can do to calm his mind, to calm his cock, to get Lilly, Mrs. Harris to lean back out of his truck and to remove the temptation of her, her, her from his view. “You—please, I’d love your help, told ya before—the babies love ya.” He coughs, clearing his throat, as he remembers how she looks with a child in her lap, singing lullabies and cooing. It does nothing to help him calm his body, to help him calm his mind. “Is—Was that all ya needed?”

Lilly jumps a little at his bark, her breasts bouncing as she bonks her head against the top of the truck with a soft ouch leaving her mouth. Her hand moves to rub at her head as she pulls back a little, trying to keep her eyes looking firmly at his face versus where it had been. She hears him curse and feels his warm hand touching her head where she had hit it, gingerly investigating if she hurt herself in a major way. A hum and a feather soft touch that she wishes were his lips are what tells her she’s fine, there’s no damage done to her head. She should pull away, should finally stop leaning into his truck, should stop acting as if she’s a wife trying to have the last bit of attention from her husband before he leaves for work but she can’t help it. She can’t help how she wants to stay where she is, just because of how heady it feels to see his attraction—his desire for her. When was the last time she had seen Nathan like this? Lilly couldn’t remember. Couldn’t… the realization sucks the air out of the truck and Lilly feels every bit of heat and humidity in the cabin and around her skin. Her mouth opens and closes before she smiles softly at Mr. Presley. “Yes, that—yes. I just—I had forgotten to ask before so that was all I needed, Mr. Presley.” Her eyes glance back down at his lap to see how his hand is still clenching the fabric of his jumpsuit and how his cock once again twitches at her attention. She feels her skin flush and she shivers slightly when she finally starts to move back. 

Elvis looks at her as she leans back, watches her start to stand up straight by his truck and tries to not focus on her chest, tries to not focus how her breath seems shaky as she does this. His mind cannot think about what this means, cannot think about why she’s reacting in this way. She is not—he is not. They are not one. They are Elvis and Lilly. He’s so busy trying to make sure she’s out of his truck that he doesn’t realize she’s leaning back in until he feels the brush of her lips against his cheek. His head turns as if he wants to catch those lips only to realize she’s already left, only to realize she’s back to standing straight, acting as if she didn’t just kiss his cheek and looking so happy he can’t help but be reminded of an actual lily in full bloom. 

“I should–I should get goin’. Mr. Harris should be here soon. Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.” He looks down at his lap as he turns on the truck and sighs. He needs–he needs to get home, to wash away how dirty he feels in this moment. 

“You–you wouldn’t. But, yes, Nathan should be home soon. Thank you for, um, thank you dancing with me, Mr. Presley. I-It was—I haven’t had a good time like that in a bit.” Her upper teeth worry at her lower lip. “Perhaps… Maybe we can do that again some time. The next time I have to call you out.”

“May—you just have to ask, Lil darlin’.” His answer is airy, shocking him in how it sounds almost as if he’s in a tunnel or floating on air at the idea. The truck is finally ready to allow him to back out and he finally lets go of his jumpsuit to wave at her with a tight smile. “Good night, Mrs. Harris.” 

Elvis tries to not focus on how she looks in her driveway waving at him as if all her neighbors aren’t peering through the curtains wondering what’s happening next door. He tries to not focus on how she looks so natural waving to him with her arm cupping her waist almost as if she aches for… no, she–she wouldn’t. The heat and the events of the afternoon were causing him to think these dumb thoughts, these dumb desires. A shower would solve his problems once he got home. 

His mind wanders in the shower, a consequence of it being one that's meant to relax rather than to just cleanse him of the day's adventures. His mind wanders and rather than settling on the horrors of his memories that he can never get rid of, it settles on her. It settles on the comforting smell of her perfume and how she smells of a soap he swears his mama used to use. It settles on the light he sees in her eyes sometimes that burns brighter than any light bulb or sun or explosion he's ever seen. It settles on the comforting weight of her body against his when he danced with her, lifting her in the air like he was a decade younger and half a person smaller, he thinks. It settles on the weight of her body on his knee, an action that hurt and had him nearly stumbling and falling on top of her, but had him catching himself before he did. It settles on her face, so full of joy and life that it thawed something inside of him. It settles her face with a smile so big he smiles at the memory. It settles on the laugh and the feeling of her kicking her legs while on his knee. It remembers the glimpse of her thigh and—he looks down to see his cock at attention once again, precum already dripping out like he's turned on a faucet and he groans, his fist slamming against the wall as he tries to stop his other hand from wrapping around his cock. He fails miserably and shudders, his eyes shutting and mumbling her name, his mind picturing her sweet hand around it before she puts it in her mouth. His cheek burns when he comes.

Elvis tries to avoid thinking of what happened for the next week. He tries to avoid thinking of how his body can’t forget how it felt to have her notice his arousal, to have her touch his arousal however accidental the action was. He tries to avoid thinking of everything and yet he can’t. It mocks him to the point of near insanity. The guilt of wanting—the guilt of needing—the guilt of wishing has him visiting his mother’s grave one early morning after another restless night of sleep. His joints groan and ache as he sits down next to it.

“I met someone, Mama. I wish she wasn't married. You'd–you'd've loved her. Dances so well, perfect lil housewife. She'd–she'd take care of me like ya did. Take care of ya lil boobie right." Elvis huffs out a laugh. "God hasn't given… Hasn't blessed her wit' a baby and—she'd—it's a cryin' shame. I'd take care of her child any Sunday. Any day."

His mind drifts as he tells her more about Lilly, drifts to a world where it’s their children he takes care of and his stomach flips from the mere idea. Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery and yet he feels like he’s edging closer and closer to doing it. Feels as if something is going to break inside of him or between them soon. The prayers he sends to God every night are starting to include pleas to give him strength to resist his urges, to allow himself to remain on the correct path and to not allow himself to fall prey to his base desires. To fall prey to sin of the highest order, to wreck a marriage no matter how much pain and destruction it contains, no matter how the pain threatens to burst at the seams. 

“Don’t know why… Don’t understand why God is testing me like this. Lilly—Mrs. Harris—Miss Lilly deserves to be happy. Deserves to make a life with her husband and here the Lord wants to test me by putting–by putting her in front of me like this. By… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist. I—I wish she had met me before the war. ‘Fore all this.” 

Elvis feels a gust of wind in an otherwise calm breeze that settles him down as he tries to work himself up. It settles him down and reminds him of his mother’s listening to him and protecting him even in death. Knowing her, she might be trying to have a talk with the Lord Himself right in this very moment. 

“Thank you, Mama,” he whispers as he moves to stand up, running his hand across the top of the headstone. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Something is different about today, another day Nathan where once again told her to send for the man who tempts her, unable or unwilling to mend his own house. It no longer feels like Nathan’s house, and that should be worrisome to her. Instead, something is different in the air between them and Lilly wonders if Elvis can feel it, if he can't feel how her heart is beating out of her chest when their fingers brush against each other as they swap ingredients. If he can't feel how her breath catches every time she looks up at him and sees him staring at her, watching her stir something or sprinkle a bit of salt onto the food. She wonders if he can hear her thoughts, hear what nasty things her brain thinks watching him be so domestic with her. She wonders what it would be like to be his wife instead of Nathan's. 

Her hands are dirty, covered in raw juice from the chicken and she knows she needs to wash them before cutting up the collards and the snap peas and—Lord she knows she's making far too much food but perhaps Elvis can take some home and remember today. Remember the care the two of them put into the meal. Her mother had always taught her to put the same amount of love in food as you would put into the person you make it for. Perhaps it should worry her that her heart feels fit to burst with her love for this food. It doesn't take too long for her to wash up and grab the towel and yet it's enough time for Elvis to reach a dish above her in the cabinet by her head. It's enough time to have him press up against her, his stomach a warm and solid yet soft presence behind her. It's enough time for her body to freeze in place, before she feels herself sway back a little and feels her breath leave her mouth all at once. It's enough time that Elvis notices these things, sees his reflection against the glass of the window above the sink and sees Lily's against his. He sees—he sees her eyes shut and her head bow as he feels her body shudder. 

A dam—the dam holding back any shred of self control Elvis had breaks in that moment. It breaks the second he feels her body shudder against him, the second he sees her melt into his embrace like she belongs there. A groan leaves his lips unbidden and Lilly, sweet Lilly, whimpers at the sound, her eyes opening and seeing the erotic vision of the two of them still clothed against each other. Her body rocks back even as his arm snakes around her trying to hold her in place, trying to keep her from moving against him and yet it barely works, her body seeks him out, wishes for more than what he’s giving her and he–he can’t oblige. She doesn’t know what she wants. His lips brush against the shell of her ear, his breath a hot dagger against her skin. “You want this?”

A simple question. The most simple question with the most simple answer. A yes or a no determines Elvis’s actions in this moment. A no will have him backing away and apologizing profusely, a yes will have him granting her what she needs, what she wants. It will have him giving into the temptation he should resist but cannot any more. The temptation that the Lord must be putting him through for a reason, some higher plan he doesn’t understand quite yet. 

“Elvis, please,” Lilly’s voice is a whisper but Elvis hears his name finally fall from her lips and hears how desperate her please is and before he realizes it his hand moves to unzip his jumpsuit to reach down at the bottom, to try free his cock as Lilly starts to whine, wishing for more. Wishing for his touch.

As her chest heaves with quick breaths that Elvis tries to steady, a hand snakes up her body until it reaches her chest, covering so much of it that it ignites something primal within him. He’s always known he’s a large man and yet the way he sees her breasts rise and fall with his hand covering one is to know another thing entirely. He almost moves it away before Lilly stops him, her own hand covering his. There’s a tug of his hand forcing it into the gap between her dress and the skin of her neck and collarbone and Elvis can’t help but oblige her desire even as the heat from her body threatens to set the whole of his hand on fire. 

“I gotcha, Lil darlin'. Elvis's gotcha." His words are practically inaudible, they're said so low and deep from within his chest, but Lilly seems to get the message as her breaths start to slow, beginning to match pace with Elvis’s. He’s got her and she can relax. He’s got her and he’s going to take care of the ache inside of her. The ache she’s felt every day she’s seen him since he fixed her oven. Lilly’s brain swears it hears something about him needing to pull down his jumpsuit fully, something about the damn buttons and zippers and she feels her mouth moving to offer to help before she feels the heat of what has to be his bare chest against her dress. 

In another time and in another place he would have her help him, have her lift up her dress and help him with her undergarments but the way she sways and moves against him has him realizing he can’t trust her to do such a thing, he can’t trust her to be able to help him the way he needs her to. It’s not a problem and a selfish part of him thanks the Lord for it, thanks the Lord that she won’t turn around and that she won’t have her hand brush up against his unclothed cock. His foreskin won’t scare her off. He won’t scare her off with the intensity of his arousal and of how his cock is already dripping his precum onto her kitchen floor. It takes some maneuvering and he leans against her, pushing her against the sink, his body practically covering her as he lifts up her skirt and manages to pull her underwear down. Her vagina—her pussy—her flower is glistening just from the touches he’s given her. Nathan truly had been forsaking the wife he promised to love and cherish in the house of God if this is all it took to see this level of pleasure from Lilly. His fingers move to touch, to just feel the slick of her arousal. The cry she lets out nearly has him jumping away and yet he knows he can’t, knows after hearing that noise from her mouth he needs to hear it again. He wants to wrench it from her over and over until she’s hoarse. 

Elvis takes his time sinking into the wet heat between her legs, he’s seen the pictures of Nathan and seen the man in person once before. There is no conceivable way she is used to someone of his size inside of her and he'd be damned before he ever injured her in any way. Let alone when he’s—no, he won’t think of that, won’t think of anything other than treating her as she deserves to be treated by a man. By her own husband but he’ll do—he can do what her husband won’t. His eyes can’t help but watch even as his mind tells him not to. His eyes can’t help but watch how her hole stretches around him, trying to take him in bit by bit. The memory sears itself into his brain and he knows in that moment he won’t likely be able to forget this, won’t be able to walk away from this unscathed. 

Her body feels full, between her legs feels full, she feels so full even as she knows there has to be more. He’s as long as her husband but Nathan’s never filled her like this. It’s almost as if she can’t breathe, the shock to her system too great. She wants to tell Elvis this, wants to tell him this is too much, she doesn’t know if she can handle this and all that comes out of her mouth is noises she’s never heard. Whimpers and whines as he pushes in slowly but surely, his grip on her never faltering, the reassurances never stopping. He’s got her. He’ll have her through all of this. He’s got her even as he bottoms out inside her, a growl of pleasure coming from deep within his chest. The hair on his stomach is against her backside, rubbing against her bare skin in a way that shouldn’t serve to heighten her pleasure and yet it’s all her mind can focus on- it’s the only thing that is bringing her back to the earth, back to the present moment. His thrusts are gentle… almost slow and inviting in the way he pulls out, the stretch of his cock erring just enough on the side of comfortable despite how she feels almost as if it’s catching on something inside of her but that can’t be true, Nathan’s never had that problem, why would Elvis be having it despite how he possesses more girth. 

Elvis wishes this was different, wishes he could have her against the sink with her facing him but that’s—this isn’t about what he wants and desires. This is about Lilly, isn’t it? This is about making sure she knows how someone in this world wants to treat her with the love and care he’s trying to treat her with. This is about making sure the pleasure she feels is almost too much, that it threatens to overwhelm her. This is about her and making sure she is happy and taken care of by him. His head had moved down, kissing at her neck, one hand trying to fondle her breasts while the other hand was resting firmly against her lower stomach, practically cradling where her uterus is—not that he realizes. He knows his body isn’t equipped to last too much longer, his age and everything slowing him down just that little bit and yet the slap of his stomach, the slap of his skin against Lilly’s has his thrusts getting stronger as she tries to thrust back, needy in ways that—from the sound of her sighs—she’s not used to. 

“More.” A sob she tries to choke back. “Please.”

The only thing he has to give her is his come, that’s all he has left from his thrusting, he can’t go any deeper, can’t stretch that little pink hole any more than it already is. He can’t give her anything else that isn’t already there as he hears the squelch between the two of them. Hears how his cock is welcomed by her body, how she’s wet and it’s only been made worse by his precum and he–he has to look up. He has to see the picture they make in the window if only for his own sanity, if only to perhaps settle his roaring mind. 

A second too late he realizes he shouldn’t have looked. A second too late he realizes that seeing the line of her throat as she leaned her head back against his shoulder in pleasure is too much. A second too late he feels his hips stutter as he feels himself coming, feels his come fill the spaces his cock isn’t filling inside of her, adding even more liquid between them and making the noises louder. Her mouth is open as she pants and as he’s looking in the window, watching as the rays from the sunset illuminate the pair of them in an almost heavenly glow, Lilly looks up and catches his eyes. 

Her eyes tighten just a bit as she realizes what’s happened, as she realizes he’s had his release. His hips aren’t moving as he pants behind her, trying to recuperate and trying to catch his breath. Her eyes tighten and her shoulders start to follow suit. This—this is something she knew, this is an outcome she knows. This is where Elvis pulls out of her and leaves her aching and wanting. This is where Elvis and Nathan are the exact same two men when it comes to her desires and needs. She can’t look, can’t watch as he pulls out of her and leaves her to be slumped over the kitchen sink. Minutes pass and yet he’s still inside of her, he’s still inside of her and she can feel half thrusts against her backside, his release and her arousal and whatever else squishing and squelching as he moves. Some trickles down her leg as she shivers in anticipation at what’s happening. There isn’t a reference point, she has nothing to compare this to and yet it feels so right. This feels how it’s supposed to be. 

Elvis can feel she hasn’t come, he knows—he may not know her body inside and out but he knows how women tick, he knows if he were to pull out of her he’d be no better than—he wouldn’t have done what he set out to do against this sink. It’s as if his body and his cock know this, too, and through a grace or an act of God he can feel himself firming back up the more he thrusts into her, the obscene noises between her legs spurring him on. Her gasp sounds like a plea and a hymn all in one. She hadn’t been prepared for this, he can tell in how her movements are scrambled as she starts to rock with him. Could it be that she was chasing after her release? Could it be that she just needed that extra push? He’s already in so deep and his thrusts are going deeper and deeper but the angle, the angle is all wrong. 

“Elv—” Lilly starts before he shushes her softly, his hand moving to between her legs as she keens softly. He doesn’t go where she feels he needs to, where she can feel her body throbbing and she needs him to understand that he’s missing it—he’s missing where she needs him to be but that’s when she hears it. 

He’s cooing, crooning, he’s talking so gently to her, praising her as she tries to stand on her toes, trying to change the angle. If only she was higher up. If only she could allow him even deeper, deep enough for him to be where she feels she needs him to be. A whine leaves her lips as his hand still doesn’t move to help and settles on her thigh, grabbing it and squeezing it as he lifts it up onto the counter gently as he can.

“Let Elvis take care of ya darlin'. You're feelin' something, ain't ya? Somethin' right there, right? You just need help with it, don't ya?” His words have the fire growing inside of her, have her whimpering and nodding because yes, yes, she feels something, she feels that there’s something there. What that is she doesn’t know, only knows that he’s giving it to her, he’s coaxing it from her as she feels him so deep inside she wonders how he fits.

Her hand moves down to between her legs, wanting to touch him, it, herself only to have his hand that had still been fondling her breasts, playing with her nipples to swat it away with a small tsk, “no, no, Lilly, let Elvis—let me take care of you the way you need. Do—can I touch you there? Help you rub yourself there?”

A groan, high pitched and almost anguished leaves her mouth as his fingers finally move between her legs, finally reach the part between her legs that throbs in time with her heart. The sob that escapes her mouth comes from deep within her, a release before he’s even properly touched her. He’s got her. Elvis has got her. He’ll take care of her. 

Elvis is taking care of her as his fingers, calluses and all, brush against her clit, slowly but with such intent that Lilly finds herself arching against Elvis, the strength of his body behind her making arching forward impossible. Her pussy clenches around Elvis’s cock, fluttering while still trying to milk him for all he’s worth. It’s hard to tell who’s making which noise as he thrusts into her, chasing his second release inside of her, never thinking of the lack of protection between them. His groans and her moans and their breaths are a symphony of sounds echoing through the kitchen, his glasses askew on his nose as he watches Lilly lean forward whining, almost as if she’s passing out. His own body follows hers, leaning against her, the sweat between them fusing them together as much as their come is. 

Their breath is the only sound in the room.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

I went for a nap and when I woke up not one but two HOTD trailers had dropped. Here are some thoughts I had after watching them.

First off I appreciate the promotional tactic of having two trailers, one for each side and the whole choose a side part of the promotion. I think its a fun way of involving the audience in the story by playing into the whole team black vs team green plot. Just like the realm and houses of westeros had to choose a side the audience does too. That being said I am fully team black and I honestly don't understand why anyone would make an argument for team green given what happened in season 1, like they usurped the throne and killed Lucerys, they made their own bed so.

Speaking of, Alicent was looking worried and sad throughout both trailers, what's up Alicent? Having to face the consequences of your own actions? In all seriousness though it does look like Alicent is about to be faced with the consequences of her choosing to put Aegon on the throne behind Rhaenyra's back and is realising the true depth of what those consequences are, like f*ck around and find out I guess. Look I think Alicent is an interesting character and I think she had a rough time of it what with being pimped out by her father and becoming a baby machine for the king and I have some sympathy for her, but at the end of the day she isn't the only character who has had a shitty time of it and that doesn't make her an angel or eternal victim, she is responsible for her actions. I am not the biggest fan of the way the showrunners are trying to make out like the Greens have a leg to stand on really, when it comes to whose in the right and whose in the wrong, the greens are in the wrong, it's like trying to argue the lannisters had a point in the og show, they didn't they were the villains, just let the Greens be the villains like they are supposed to be, they can still be interesting characters, the lannisters were, I just don't get this whole lets try and make the greens seem sympathetic thing, its not working for me.

Which brings me to the next thing from the Green's trailer, Aemond and his whole 'if he dares to' line about Daemon. Like I get that this was supposed to be some intimidating power line, the dangerous dragon rider, the rider of Vhagar the largest dragon still alive is laying down a challenge, he's not afraid. I also get that Aemond is supposed to be like the Green's side's Daemon, the match to him. Maybe this line would have worked if Aemond had actually intended to kill Lucerys, if he was a cold blooded kin slayer, but really him killing Lucerys was an oopsie where he had lost control over Vhagar, so to me this line seems like a kid who is trying to play the part of the cold blooded kin slayer but instead is just a scared boy whose realised he f*cked up. Also the whole if he dares thing is laughable considering who Aemond is talking about, this is Daemon, the guy who cut the head off a man who called his stepson a bastard in front of an entire court, what do you think he is going to do to the guy who actually killed his stepson? Trust me he's going to dare, hide Aemond, just hide.

The other thing that bothered me was Rhaenyra's line in the Black trailer where she says she fears what she has started because like what? Girl you didn't start anything, like out of the long list of people you could argue started it, Rhaenyra is way near the bottom of that list, like what did she do except be named heir by her father the king and then fight for her right to the throne when it was usurped from her? You could argue that Viserys started it when he named her heir, that Otto started it when he pimped Alicent out to Viserys, that Alicent started it when she decided to interpret the nonsense Viserys spewed on his death bed as his wish for Aegon to sit the throne, that Aemond started it when he chased down and accidently killed Lucerys, but Rhaenyra herself sure as shit didn't start anything.

Anyway I have ranted about what I didn't vibe with enough lets talk about some of the stuff I did like. Love the costumes as usual, like they had some amazing costumes in season 1 and it looks like they are going to be equally as beautiful in season 2.

The dragons also look great, I loved seeing Baela on her dragon and I am hoping we will be seeing many epic dragon fights this season as the dance heats up. I will never say no to seeing more dragons. I also hope we will see more of Rhaena, Baela and Jace and that they will be playing roles in Rhaenyra's fight to get the throne. I did see a shot of both Jace and Baela at the table on either side of Rhaenyra when she was giving her speech about fighting for her throne and winning.

We also saw Jace with who I am assuming is Cregan Stark at what appeared to be the wall, so I am excited to see the north again and it'll be interesting to see what the wall and the night's watch looked like a hundred odd years earlier than when Jon snow was there.

Over all it looks like its going to be an exciting and action packed season and I am looking forward to seeing what is going to happen next, I own the fire and blood book but I stopped reading before I got to the dance because I wanted the show to be a surprise, I really can't predict what is going to happen next but I am thinking that Rhaenyra and Daemon are going to retaliate in some way for Lucerys death and considering how fiery and passionate they both are I suspect their revenge is going to be something big. It did look like in some shots like Alicent and Helaena were wearing funeral attire and were taking part in some kind of funeral procession so I guess that is going to have something to do with it. So anyway yeah, I am suitably excited for the next season thanks to these trailers, so bring on june.