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comphy-and-cozy · 12 days ago

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Playing Pretend - Tyson Jost

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OC (f)

Summary: When Delaney Taylor needs a date to her family reunion, Tyson Jost volunteers his services. As they navigate their fake relationship, the line between what’s real and what isn’t begins to blur.

Word Count: 9.8k

Author's Note: Happy birthday, @senditcolton! Surprise, I was your Little Women anon 🤓🥳 I had a blast creating this and infusing the March family into the characters - I hope you enjoy! S/O to @wyattjohnston for helping to beta and to @smileysvech & @jostystyles for the extra details because I'm insane. 🖤 The birthday bingo prompts I selected were: Fake dating / Drunk confession / Argument Scene / She's oblivious / Free Space (Inspired by... Little Women)

Warnings: Angst, language, alcohol use. NHL Masterlist

A buzz on the coffee table alerted Delaney Taylor’s attention away from the television. Beside her, the gentle hum of a Theragun sounded over the low volume of an Avalanche game. She was at Tyson’s house, having accepted his invite to hang out and get takeout on his night off. They’d met through friends, and after finding a mutual interest in The Lagoons and bad reality TV, their friendship naturally veered off to form a branch and blossom on its own.

The phone buzzed again, prompting Delaney to lean forward and grab it upon seeing a text from her sister.

“Fuck,” she said, “Alyssa just texted asking for a final count for my family get together in July.”

“And that’s a bad thing… why? You love your family,” Tyson said, confused. He set down his Theragun on the ottoman, reaching for his water bottle. A car dealership commercial flashed on the screen.

Across from him on the couch, Delaney sighed. “I know. It’s just… I’m kind of the disappointment of the family.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’m poor, in a mass amount of debt, and working at a Kohl’s instead of at the Met like I was supposed to by this time,” she said, counting each sin on her fingers. Lifting a fourth, she added, “Oh yeah, and I’m single.”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. They don’t care about that.”

“Maybe not, but I’m only 26 and they make me feel so pressured to get married, start having babies,” she sighed. “My older sister, Alyssa? Happily married with three kids. Violet? In a long-term, happy relationship. And Rachel—she’s not even married but she still has a baby who is basically the light of everyone’s life. Even both of my little sisters have ‘made it’ more than me. I’m just a grad school dropout who broke up with the boyfriend that everyone loved. They spent all of Christmas asking me if we were going to get back together.”

“Yeah, well, did you tell them that Mark was a fucking douche?” Tyson asked, to which Delaney snorted in amusement. You’re the only other person who seems to think so. He let the moment settle before adding, “Delaney, you don’t have to check all of the same boxes as your sisters. You’re literally the smartest person I know.”

“Dropping out of grad school does crazy things for your self confidence,” she said, heart heavy with defeat. It was over halfway through the semester, but saying it out loud never got easier. Delaney wondered what her former classmates were studying, if they missed her absence.

At the end of the fall semester, she’d been crushed to make the decision to pull out of her classes for the spring. Between work, schoolwork, and trying to balance the rest of her little free time between having a social life and having a healthy sleep schedule. her stress levels skyrocketed at the same rate as her student loan payment. It was a painful, but necessary, goodbye. Though she knew she made the right decision, she still felt sad and disappointed when her mind drifted, doing her best to quiet the what ifs that ran through her mind.

Delaney forced herself to focus her thoughts back to the present. “I just… I can’t stand to be a disappointment anymore. I already failed at being a grad student. I don’t want to have to fail at finding a boyfriend, too.”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

He blurted it out so quickly that Delaney stared at him for a moment before the confusion seeped in. “What?”

“I mean,” he said after a gulp of water, a slight tinge coating his cheeks, “I’ll come with you. Pretend to be your boyfriend. That way at least there’s one area they can’t rip on you for.”

“Tyson, I can’t ask you to do that,” she said, ignoring the swell in her heart at the image of Tyson Jost holding her hand. She didn’t have time to unpack that yet.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” His voice was confident, like he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, but gentle, like he’d back down if she really vetoed the offer a second time.

Delaney considered. She felt guilty at the thought of subjecting him to her entire family, making him put on the doting boyfriend act without anything in it for him. That was just how he was, though; generous, giving, willing to do anything for his friends. It really was such a kind gesture of friendship, it almost made her heart ache.

On the other hand, it would save her a headache—she couldn’t deny how much she dreaded the hopeful look in her dad’s eyes when he asked if she was seeing someone—and she did think Tyson would get along with her family. And who wouldn’t want Buffalo’s cutest resident to be her arm candy?

“Okay,” she agreed. “But you need to promise to tell me if you change your mind.”

“Deal,” Tyson said with a grin, holding out his hand. Delaney accepted, shaking it; she ignored the warmth of his palm pressed against hers. “What’s our story, then, babe?”

Heat instantly rose in her cheeks at the pet name. “Okay, rule number one, don’t overdo it with the nicknames. It’ll be too obvious.”

“So no snookums? Honey pie? Sugar plum?”

“No, no, and double no.”

“Aww man,” he pouted. “I was even gonna let you call me ‘cupcake.’”

Delaney rolled her eyes before returning to his original question. “I think our story is the same, for consistency’s sake: We met through friends.”

“Our first date was putt putt and dinner,” he supplied, nodding along. “Kissed you outside your apartment after the second.”

Again, warmth melted over Delaney’s face at the mention of kissing; she felt like a teenager getting teased for having a crush on a boy in her class. And then she realized that she would, in fact, probably have to kiss him on the trip, if they were really hoping to make it believable.

Judging by the way Tyson’s face turned a shade of crimson, she assumed he’d come to the same realization she had.

Maybe they were in for more than they anticipated.

Six weeks later, after creating an entire relationship backstory and studying Delaney’s family tree, Tyson was on a plane to Boston, Bose headphones snugly over his ears. How I Met Your Mother was playing on his iPhone, propped up on the tray table in front of him. Seated beside him was Delaney, lost in her Kindle. Her elbow rested against him on the armrest, her long braid tucked between their arms.

When they landed, Tyson knocked his knee against hers with a grin. A strange flare of nerves and excitement radiated in his chest for a moment, then was gone again.

“C’mon babe, I’ll get your bag for you,” he said. Delaney chuckled, shaking her head with a teasing roll of her eye.

He followed her to the rental car booth, waiting patiently while she sorted out the paperwork for a red Toyota Camry for the hour-long drive to Cape Cod. She nominated him road trip DJ, a title he wore with honor, and the two chatted comfortably as she made her way down the MA-3 South.

Nerves began to flutter again when the GPS had them exiting the highway and indicated he only had about eight more minutes to prepare for his new role as Delaney Taylor’s boyfriend. If she could tell, she didn’t say anything, and he did his best to hide it. He could handle being surrounded by reporters with cameras and phones shoved in his face, peppering him with the same questions about his career and his future; if he could handle that, he thought, he could handle meeting his pretend girlfriend’s family.

Soon enough, they were pulling into the driveway of a large white house, and not thirty seconds after Delaney put the car in park, a small blonde head was running down the front porch steps to greet his new girlfriend. Tyson smiled as he watched Delaney throw the door open and scoop the little girl into her arms before spinning her around in a hug.

Olivia. Delaney’s seven-year-old niece—and favorite one.

“I mean, of course I love all of my nieces and nephews,” she’d explained, “but Olivia and I are soul bonded.” “Liv,” she said gently after setting her down, “there’s someone I want you to meet.” When two wide, inquisitive eyes peered up at him, Tyson instantly understood why she was Delaney’s favorite. He crouched down to meet her gaze as Delaney introduced him. “Olivia, this is Tyson.”

Olivia eyed him and he smiled, waving. She studied him thoughtfully, then said, “Hi. Are you Aunt Delaney’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Is that okay?”

The little girl looked over to her aunt. “Do you like him?”

Delaney’s eyes flicked over to Tyson’s, an amused smile on her face. Heat lingered in his cheeks after her gaze returned to meet Olivia’s. “Yes, I like him.”

“Like-like him?”

“Yep.” Tyson felt a flutter in his chest, like he was a kid on a playground finding out his crush like-liked him too. He hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Olivia turned back to Tyson, observing him keenly for a moment before sticking out her hand. “Okay. It’s okay.”

Tyson laughed again, relief unexpectedly washing through him at her instant approval. “Thank you. I’m really so honored to get Princess Olivia’s blessing.”

The other introductions were easier—Alyssa and Ben (Olivia’s parents), Rachel (Delaney’s sister) and her eight month old daughter, Isla. Tyson smiled warmly at everyone, feeling almost instantly at home amongst the easy way they welcomed him in. Inside the house was the rest of the family: Delaney’s sister Violet, her girlfriend Preethi, Hailey and Noah (Olivia’s older siblings), and Delaney’s dad.

Though he knew it didn’t matter much if he actually made a good impression, as he’d likely never see her family again, Delaney’s father was the person Tyson was most nervous to meet; he knew firsthand what growing up in a single-parent home was like and how close the bond can become with the remaining parent. Based on everything he’d heard about Delaney’s relationship with her father, he knew it was an important impression to nail.

“Mr. Taylor,” he said, extending his hand for a firm handshake. He was surprised at the way his voice trembled slightly, though he did his best to hide his nerves with a smile. “Really great to meet you.”

“Call me Dean,” he said with a wide, genuine smile. It put Tyson at ease, even as he registered how much larger Dean’s hands were than his own.

They exchanged pleasantries, and Tyson was happy with how the first meeting was going. He was impressed with himself, though he couldn’t deny that it was Dean’s easygoing, warm nature that really made it seamless. As a single father of four girls, Tyson wondered how many people had come through the door with the intention of dating one of his daughters—how many people had Dean had this exact interaction with? He wondered what Mark’s was like. He wondered how he measured up.

Tyson told himself it was just his competitive nature, but he found himself hoping that he was at the top of the list.

After introductions, Tyson and Delaney brought their bags in and settled into the third bedroom on the left, their home for the week. Once the door closed, Delaney turned and asked, “How’re you doing out there?”

Tyson laughed, unzipping his bag to hang up a few of his shirts in the wardrobe. “Are you kidding? Your family is great, Delaney. I think we might have to get married. I want to come here every summer.”

“Relax, cowboy. You haven’t even had a single meal with them yet,” laughed Delaney. She was grateful her face was hidden as she knelt to pull her toiletry bag out of her suitcase. Heat burned in her cheeks even as a grin spread across her face. Then, eager to change the subject, she added, “You passed Olivia’s inspection.”

“Dude, I think I fell in love with her. Those eyes!?”

Snorting, Delaney nodded as she walked toward the bathroom to set her bag on the counter. “She does have beautiful eyes.”

She thought she heard him say something like, “Must run in the family,” and she opted to wash her hands in the sink in order to will away the burn on her cheeks before returning to the bedroom to finish unpacking.

They returned downstairs a little while later, having unpacked and changed out of travel clothes to something more beach-friendly. Though it was nearing the end of the day and the sun was beginning to go down, the kids were not ready to give up swimming and making sandcastles for the day. Delaney gestured for Tyson to make himself comfortable when they sat down in the chairs on the deck. A few others trickled out, giving Delaney the opportunity to sit and catch up with a smaller group at a time; she spoke with Rachel about Isla’s new daycare, asked Violet about her anatomy final, and told Preethi about the latest book she read. She was grateful that no one seemed to be interested in asking about her future career plans; for now, it seemed, everyone was content with her handsome, charming boyfriend.

Rachel’s eyes flicked over to Tyson, who was smiling as he took in the conversation. He didn’t have much to say or contribute, but he seemed perfectly happy just listening. It made Delaney’s heart twist a little bit at the thought.

“How you doing over there, buddy?” asked Rachel. Delaney cast an appreciative glance over at her sister, grateful that she was making an effort to include him.

“Me? Oh, I’m doing great,” he said with a grin after a sip of his Labatt. “You guys kind of remind me of my mom, sister, and cousins when they’re all together.”

“Wait, that’s really sweet,” Preethi cooed.

“Okay, you’ve heard us yapping,” Violet said after agreeing with a nod. “Tell us about this infamous Tyson—who I’m still pretty pissed that I only just learned about your existence.”

Delaney offered her sister a sheepish grin and a shrug as Tyson recited the story they’d concocted about their relationship, peppering in details about their first date and their transition from friends to more. Violet seemed skeptical at first, but she seemed to warm up when he shared that he’d harbored a crush on Delaney for months before he asked her out—somehow, that was enough to explain the lack of talk about him.

“We wanted to keep things light in the beginning,” she peppered in. “Just in case things didn’t work out. Didn’t want to make things weird with the rest of our friends.”

Tyson nodded, going along with her ad-libbing and taking it a step further by reaching his hand over to hold hers on the armrest of her Adirondack. His thumb stroked her knuckles, a quiet and subtle gesture of affection that sent warmth flooding to Delaney’s heart. “Fortunately, it worked out and we still have friends.”

It wasn’t long after that Rachel went inside to put Isla to sleep and Violet and Preethi left to pick up Chinese takeout for dinner, leaving Tyson and Delaney alone. The other kids had gone inside to shower, which left their view of the beach unmarred as the sun went down, oranges and purples dancing across the surface of the water. Warmth splayed over her legs, the cool breeze making an otherwise warm evening quite pleasant.

This, she thought, is pure happiness.

“Wow,” Tyson awed, “I mean, I believed you when you said it was beautiful, but this is… it’s insane.”

Delaney laughed, nudging his foot with hers.

“Thank you for coming,” she said softly after a pause. “It really—I can’t say how much it means to me that you really came and did… all this. For me.”

Tyson smiled, the chocolate of his eyes warm as his hand reached over to give hers another squeeze. “For this view? I should be thanking you.”

Though Delaney was sure he was referring to the glowing horizon in front of them, she found herself wishing that wasn’t all that he meant.

—

Dinner was simple, casual, and perfect, with everyone scattered around amongst the dining room table, kitchen bar, and coffee table in the living room. Delaney could feel her heart contract at the sight of it, her family, the sound of their voices and their laughter filling the room of her most favorite place on planet Earth. Every time she looked over at Tyson, he seemed to be laughing, that contagious, bright smile etched across his face. He flitted around, too; one moment, she’d see him at the table with Olivia, Noah, and Dean, the next, at the bar with Rachel, Alyssa, and Hailey.

She was surprised at the way in which he fit in with her family as if he’d been around for years, the way Ben and Preethi had. It was so natural; she was impressed at how well he was selling their fake relationship without missing a single beat. Not a single person, she mused, had any suspicion that it was all a sham.

It sure didn’t feel like a sham to her when he tugged his white t-shirt over his head, tossed it in his bag, and crawled into bed beside her later that night. Delaney did her best to keep from gaping, but she’d never even seen that many abs on a person, let alone the shape of his bicep and the tempting dip of muscles that disappeared into the waistband of his plaid pajama bottoms.

“So how’d I do?” he asked, pulling her out of her head—the one that was imagining exactly where those lines ended beneath the cotton material. Heat flushed to her cheeks, realizing how blatantly she’d been staring, darting her eyes away.

Delaney plugged her phone in on the nightstand and regained her composure before turning to face him. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

“Aw, thanks, buttercup,” he said, tapping her on the nose with a fingertip. “I’m ready to play so much Marco Polo with Olivia tomorrow.”

“You better get some beauty sleep if you’re planning to be the entertainment for the day. The girl’s got stamina.”

“Baby, I was born ready.”

When Tyson woke, it took him a moment to register where he was. The blue paint on the walls, the wooden beams, the spinning fan overhead was all unfamiliar, but there was something sweetly scented that he recognized.

Delaney.

She was sleeping beside him, hair disheveled and falling out of her loose braid. Her breathing was steady, soft, so quiet Tyson could barely hear it. He smiled, watching her for a few moments, appreciating the quiet simplicity of the house’s aura and the effect it had on Delaney; she seemed so at home, so comfortable, like she could take off the armor and be unapologetically herself. He liked seeing that side of her, like it was a privilege to be able to witness her at her most authentic self. He couldn’t wait to see more.

Delaney shifted, causing a strand of hair to fall into her face. Tyson felt a tug in his heart when she nuzzled into his warmth, exhaling softly.

He was her boyfriend now, and as much as he’d bonded with her family the night before, it was still early and he didn’t fancy an awkward conversation over coffee with the few people who had awoken. So, he gave himself a mental shrug and let her sink into the crook of his arm, savoring her warmth.

The subtle floral scent of her shampoo made its way into his nose, and the steady rise and fall of her chest lulled him back into a cat nap, morning sun warming the ocean-cool air. It was her stirring in his arms later, after the sun had risen higher in the sky, streaming light and buttery warmth through the window, that woke him again.

“You were snoring,” she said. Her freshly-awake voice was sleepy, softer than usual. “It was so cute.”

Tyson hummed a soft apology and his cheeks warmed, heat weaving its way through his body when he realized how much of her was pressed against him. He found himself both disappointed and grateful when she stretched and rose first, padding quietly into the bathroom. The bed beside him felt cold, empty, and it was only then that he realized how much he’d been relying on her body heat for warmth.

Breakfast was casual, everyone helping themselves to the assorted bagels, fruit, and yogurt in the fridge. Delaney’s leg brushed against his when he sat back down after a coffee refill, answering Noah’s earnest questions about how to become a professional athlete. He wasn’t sure how he did until he received a grateful look from Alyssa after he told Noah that he always made sure to eat all of his vegetables at dinner.

Since he didn’t need much time to prepare for a beach day, he offered to help Dean clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher—he was confident he’d made a good first impression, but wanted to solidify a spot on the Good List. By the time he’d started the cycle, Delaney had returned from their shared room and Tyson nearly choked on his coffee when his eyes landed on her. He’d never seen her in anything less than a t-shirt and jeans, and the expanse of her golden skin wasn’t something he had prepared himself for.

Of course he’d noticed the way her eyes bulged when he took his shirt off before bed; he’d bitten his lip to keep from smiling. She had told him to act normal and be himself—it wasn’t his fault he preferred to sleep sans shirt. But after seeing her in beachwear, Tyson’s confidence in his ability to manage his emotions as Delaney’s fake boyfriend was starting to waver. The black linen pants she sported were enough to have him sweating for a moment before he collected himself, tearing his eyes away from the curve of her ass.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—for him, he didn’t have much time to dwell on how well her pants fit her hips and her ass, for Olivia was barreling down the dock, followed closely by Noah, both of whom were calling to Tyson to help them build the world’s largest sand kingdom. Delaney grinned at him, offering a sympathetic shrug before he was being tugged to a spot on the beach by Olivia.

Right away, she directed him to dig the moat, while she and Noah worked on starting the base. Tyson kept the conversation going, asking them both about school and letting them ask him questions about life as a hockey player. Every so often, he’d glance over at Delaney, sitting on the deck with Rachel, Isla, Violet, and Preethi. He smiled at the light in her eyes as she sat, chatting and laughing with her family that he knew she missed dearly. For the first time in a few weeks, she was smiling, the weight on her shoulders temporarily lifted.

This was why he came. Why he traveled 500 miles from home, voluntarily staying in a house full of strangers and was now elbow-deep in wet sand: To take away a pressure point so that she could enjoy her weekend with her family without the unspoken still-single? narratives. She thanked him more times than he could count, but it honestly hadn’t even occurred to him as something that was worth thanking him for.

She was a friend, and she needed something from him. Simple. There was no decision to make. If she needed him, he was there. When a friend asks for help, you help ‘em.

Even if it meant he had to spend an entire weekend with her loud, large family and pretend to be her boyfriend.

Something about playing that role, envisioning himself as the man beside her in her life, made him feel… warm? And kind of fuzzy? Prior to arriving, he’d been a bit anxious at the immense pressure of being able to act the part and pull it all off, but being Delaney’s boyfriend was easy. Her warmth attracted everyone; it was only natural to be drawn to her.

“Tyson?” Olivia’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna marry Aunt Dee?”

Tyson felt his cheeks tinge with pink heat, stuttering for an answer; he got the strange sense that Olivia had been reading his thoughts. His gaze flicked over to the girl in question, gently rocking Isla in her arms. For a brief moment, his brain conjured the idea that she was holding their daughter, and he couldn’t keep up with the surge of emotions in his chest.

He cleared his throat, blinking away the thought. “Um, yeah. Maybe. Do you think I should?”

“Yeah,” she said after a moment of introspection. “She smiles a lot with you.”

“She does?”

“Duh. You’re her boyfriend.”

Tyson hummed, letting Olivia drop a handful of sand into the bucket he was holding. He packed it in before helping Noah place the next section of the wall.

He’d be so lucky to marry someone half as wonderful as Delaney.

The sun warmed Delaney’s skin, amplified by Isla’s body heat, sleeping soundly in her arms. She smiled down at her newest niece, drinking in her tiny features.

“You got yourself a good one, Del,” Rachel said, causing Delaney to glance up at the use of her name. “He’s wonderful.”

Delaney swallowed the urge to respond that Tyson wasn’t hers, that he could only ever be hers in her dreams—or, in this case, in an entirely fake scenario. Even in the first 24 hours, everything had come so naturally to them, she had to remind herself that he was only there out of pity, not out of any sort of inkling of real feelings for her. The thought stung, but she pushed it aside to unpack later.

“It’s actually so sweet how in love with you he is,” Violet agreed. “I love watching him look at you.”

“Oh my God, right?” Preethi gushed. “Every time I look over at him, he’s staring at you with that dumb little smile on his face. It’s so cute.”

The thump of her heart quickened at her family’s words. She’d never seen the looks they were talking about. In fact, she’d never even seen him looking in her direction when she’d sneak glances at him across the room, keeping tabs on his whereabouts and if he generally appeared to be enjoying himself.

“Do you loooove him?” Violet asked. Her sing-song voice made Delaney roll her eyes.

“No, of course not,” she said, far too quickly, before she realized that being in love with her boyfriend is kind of the end goal when in a relationship. “I mean, not yet. It’s not been that long.”

She ignored Rachel’s glance, allowing Violet to nudge her knee with her own. “Alright. Well, no time like the present.”

“Judging by the way he looks at you, I think your boy is already there,” Rachel said.

Heat surged to Delaney’s cheeks. She knew it wasn’t true, but they had every reason to believe it. It was strange to be at the center of a lie, watching as the strings began to weave an intricate pattern—all because she couldn’t bear to disappoint her family again.

And Tyson had been more than willing to jump in and help her; in fact, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was overwhelmed with his generosity, his kindness. The display of friendship made her heart ache. And now, here he was, convincing everyone in her life that he was her boyfriend—so well that her sisters were convinced that this wonderful man was in love with her.

She made a mental note to compliment Tyson on his acting abilities. “Stop. He’s not.”

“Girl,” Violet said disbelievingly. “You go off to la la land with that dopey-ass smile on your face when your sister says he’s in love with you, and you think you don’t love him?”

“Let her get there on her own, Vi,” Preethi said, resting a hand gently on her girlfriend’s arm. She winked at Delaney before saying, “You’re right, though.”

After another roll of her eyes, Delaney glanced to the sparkling water beyond the dock for a reprieve from her interrogation. The waves softly rolled toward the shore, whispering her name on their breath. She nudged Isla into her sister’s arms before rising from her seat, stretching. “It’s time.”

Rachel’s “Have fun!” followed Delaney as she headed down the dock, slipping her linen cover-up down her legs and tightening the straps on her bikini. At the end, she wasted no time diving in, letting the water surround her.

Delaney swam around, letting the coolness of the water soothe her warm skin. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d been coming to this place, and something about the feeling of the water on her skin was cleansing; purifying even. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in this place, pressures and stressors and everything else muted while she was there with her people.

This time around was different. This time, her life back at home was in shambles, unable to catch a break. But this time, she also had Tyson by her side, there to alleviate the pressure so she could have an escape. His presence was different from how Mark’s had been, despite the fact that Mark was actually her boyfriend. Tyson seemed to understand her, listened without judgment, supported her without question.

Tyson saw her in a way that Mark never had—maybe in a way that even her family never had.

—

Tyson was helping Olivia put the final touches on the sandcastle, which included a garage for her Barbie Jeep, when movement on the porch steps caught his eye. His throat went dry when he saw what—or who—was making their way toward the water.

Delaney, stripping out of that linen outfit, excitedly speed-walking down the dock. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, his heart thudding in his chest. Unable to help the way his eyes traveled over her skin, he let his gaze drag up her legs, over her curves. Fuck. She looked good.

A shriek sounded beside him, and Tyson’s eyes went wide as his head whipped to Olivia. Only when he saw her smiling did he realize that she was shrieking with joy, presumably at the sight of Delaney jumping in the water, if the cheering was any indication.

“Aunt Dee! Aunt Dee!” she squealed, dropping her sand shovel and running back toward the shed. She handed him a Frozen floaty, indicating for him to help her blow it up. Once she was situated, the floaties wrapped securely around her upper arms, she was bounding down the dock toward her aunt. The sound of a splash, followed shortly by a squeal and laughter informed Tyson that she had successfully made it.

He smiled fondly, making his own way down to the end of the dock where Delaney was helping Olivia make a whirlpool.

“Incoming!” he shouted, tossing his t-shirt and sunglasses to the side before he cannonballed in amidst screams from both girls. Rising to the surface, he was met with splashes from Olivia’s tiny feet, which he quickly grabbed and tugged her toward him to lug her over his shoulders. Another squeal left her mouth as he launched her—safely—out of his arms, crashing into the water.

Delaney laughed beside him, watching Olivia’s triumphant smile as she rose to the surface. Moments too late, she realized that she was Tyson’s next target, her eyes going wide when his hands found her waist. He ignored the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips and the way she fit in his arms as he lifted her, too—much to Olivia’s delight, who was chanting for him to toss Delaney.

“One, two—”

“Tyson, put me down!” Delaney shrieked.

With a wink at Olivia, he shrugged and said, “You asked.” With that, he launched her and watched her land in the water with a satisfying splash. When she emerged, Olivia was laughing so hard that Tyson couldn’t help but join in. Delaney spluttered, sending a splash of ocean water toward him that he quickly dodged.

He turned to Olivia, still giggling, and ignored Delaney’s sharp protests beside him. His eyebrow raised and he leaned in to Olivia. “We playing mermaids next, or what?”

Prior to arriving at the Taylor family cottage, Delaney had taught Tyson the family dynamics and the Annual Family vacation rules. First and foremost, to relax and spend time with family. If you weren’t having fun, you weren’t required to participate in anything—and there was usually so much going on that it wasn’t difficult to find something to do.

Another rule they’d developed early on was that each couple gets a guaranteed, guilt-free date night. Established after Hailey was born so that Alyssa and Ben could have a night to themselves, it had simply stuck as each sister added a significant other to the ever-growing Taylor family.

When Violet announced that Tyson and Delaney’s assigned night was Wednesday, his faux girlfriend was quick to assure him behind closed doors that they didn’t have to do anything crazy— “like a real date, or anything.” Tyson, though, brushed her off and was determined to commit fully to the bit.

It took a fair bit of wrangling and no shortage of dawdling to get himself alone with Alyssa to ask where he should take Delaney on a date. He couldn’t explain why his cheeks were so warm talking with her, taking note of her suggestions like he was in a Calculus class. While their relationship was a farce, he reasoned, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take Delaney out for a memorable evening.

When the night arrived, Tyson fought a flutter of nerves in his chest. He had to actively fight the feeling of being a 16-year-old boy nervous for his first date, despite the fact that he was well into his twenties and had quite literally been sharing a bed with his date for three days. Waiting downstairs with Preethi, Violet, and Hailey, he did his best to act normal like it wasn’t his first-ever date with Delaney.

Like a scene from a movie, he felt his heart leap into his throat when she made her way down the stairs. She was stunning, despite having thrown on “just a sundress”; the body of the dress fit her torso like a glove, the skirt flowing at her waist. A milkmaid dress, he was told it was called—whatever it was, he liked it.

Dinner was simple, one of Alyssa’s top recommendations at which he somehow managed to snag the last remaining reservation. Once they arrived, he understood why: the wall facing the beach was made entirely of windows, leaving the entire restaurant a gorgeous view of the bay and the subsequent sunset. The room was already beginning to fill with the rich oranges and pinks as the sun slid closer and closer to the horizon.

“How romantic,” Delaney commented with a smirk, nudging him with her elbow. “Candlelit dinner at sunset? Should I be expecting a proposal later?”

Tyson’s face split into a grin, patting his pocket. He could’ve sworn his arm radiated warmth when she pulled away from him. “Shh. Don’t ruin the surprise!”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, honey bee.”

The meal itself was good—homemade pasta and some kind of whipped eggplant that had him contemplating ordering a second helping—but the highlight was sitting across the table from Delaney, talking freely and feeling on top of the world when she laughed at his stupid jokes. The flickering flame of the candle on her face, illuminating her skin, her smile, the glint of her necklace resting on her collarbones; her thick hair falling in loose waves, the strands around her face soft and so very Delaney. All of it—all of her—had completely sucked him in, fully underneath her spell and he couldn’t have been happier.

Tyson didn’t realize how much he’d been craving her individual attention until he had her uninhibited attention: her eyes locked on his, so in tune and in touch with everything he was saying, nodding along enthusiastically with every word out of his mouth. It was intoxicating to have her all to himself, immersed in him as he was in her.

He was addicted.

Tyson saw the waitress lingering out of the corner of his eye, praying she wouldn’t interrupt Delaney’s story—something about a new exhibit at Buffalo’s art museum; honestly, he was mostly just consumed by the spark in her eyes. Instead of checking in, the waitress approached the table silently, refilling water glasses and wine without a word before walking away.

I’m tipping you 50%, he thought to himself, leaning right back into everything Delaney, Delaney, Delaney.

Eventually, the waitress did return and burst their bubble, but Tyson was already on cloud nine, suggesting a walk on the boardwalk to get ice cream just to prolong the feeling for a little longer. The evening breeze paired with the lack of sun had goosebumps dotting Delaney’s arms, and it was all too easy for him to slip an arm over her shoulder and tuck her into his warmth.

Driving home was like a scene from a movie, her phone plugged into the aux cord and Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me blaring from the speakers. With a grin, Delaney cranked the volume up and Tyson found himself loudly singing the words alongside her; fortunately, the sound of his off-tune serenade was drowned out by the music. She sang to him, using her fist as a microphone as she danced in the passenger seat of his car.

Pulling in the driveway didn’t stop Tyson from continuing his performance, instead throwing open the door and running around to open Delaney’s, tugging her out to spin her in a circle at the instrumental break. He pulled her back into his arms, relishing the laughter she let out when he dipped her backwards.

The song faded to its end, the sound replaced by a softer one, the melody sweet and lulling. A faint beachy breeze blew past, and Tyson found himself pulling Delaney’s body closer. Her eyes were warm, looking up at him with a softness that made his heart melt and time stand still.

Tyson told himself it was gravity that drew him in, pulling him closer to her lips, suddenly yearning to know what her lip gloss tasted like. The world came to a spinning halt around him when he pressed his mouth to hers, like the universe wanted him to savor the moment. He kissed her more firmly, a strange tug in his chest letting his tongue flit against the seam of her mouth. She tasted sweet, like the strawberry ice cream he’d bought her on the boardwalk.

His hand moved up to her neck, cupping the side of her jaw to deepen the kiss, savoring the next sigh she expelled. He didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, not now that he finally knew what her lips felt like against his own. It warmed him from the inside out, like a buttery sunshine spreading through his veins, pulsing in time with the beat of his heart.

Tyson forced himself to pull away, consciousness seeping back in through the Delaney-infused haze surrounding him. The expression painted on her face was dreamy, her eyes unfocused as she blinked them open, a little hitch of surprise in her throat as reality seeped back in around them. He swallowed the urge to kiss her again.

—

Blinking, Delaney stood in shock. A rush of cool air hit her face from the space that Tyson had just occupied. She blinked again, lips tingling.

Once Delaney managed to get her wits about her, she did her best to keep her voice level. “You didn’t have to… we don’t have to—”

Tyson’s smile was nearly enough to make her knees wobble—though she was stabilized by his hands firm on her waist. He didn’t seem to be nearly as impacted as she was—heart thumping rapidly in her chest, mouth dry, fumbling to right herself on shaky legs. “Violet and Preethi have been spying on us from the upstairs window for ten minutes.”

“Oh.”

In an instant, Delaney deflated. She glanced down at her feet, trying to hide her embarrassment—at both the idea of her intimate moment being impeded on, and at her own stupidity for thinking that the entire evening hadn’t been just an act. He’d been so sweet, so perfect, that she’d allowed herself to really believe in their lie, even for just a few hours. She could’ve sworn there was something so genuine about the way he held her hand on the boardwalk, the way his eyes watched her lips—

And that kiss. She really needed to ask him where he’d learn to be such a good actor, because he was convincing.

“C’mon, pookie,” Tyson said, taking her hand. Her thoughts vanished upon hearing his voice. “We’ve given them enough to look at.”

Back in the house, they were greeted by a few people in the sitting room, gathered on the couches watching a movie. Ignoring the barely-hidden grins from Violet and Preethi, Delaney offered a quick ‘hello’ and exchanged a few words about dinner before heading upstairs—“I’m tired,” was her excuse.

She hoped her family didn’t notice that she couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

Inside the locked bathroom, she turned on the faucet to imitate washing her face. Instead, her face crumpled as a sob wracked her body, warm tears spilling freely out of her eyes. The shift from on top of the world after the kiss to the fall in realizing it was all for show was jarring; she knew what she was agreeing to when he offered to pose as her boyfriend, but she hadn’t thought of the tease it would be for her heart to have Tyson be hers for the week. It hurt more than she’d expected to have him openly acting, to know what it felt like to kiss him and have it be all for show.

The little smiles, soft touches on the back of her arm as he’d pass in the kitchen, the brush of his fingertips on her waist in the lake. All of it so natural, sly, clandestine, like he wanted it to be a secret just for the two of them—and because it wasn’t an elaborate public display to uphold the falsehood for her family, it had only naturally drawn her to the conclusion that maybe there was some truth behind it.

That kind of thinking was too good to be true, she told herself. She wasn’t the main character of some romance novel; she was just Delaney.

And guys like Tyson didn’t go for girls like Delaney.

The next few days passed peacefully: jet skiing, swimming, and plenty of mermaids. If Tyson could sense any change in her after their date, he didn’t show it. In fact, if anything, he’d doubled down on his affection, brushing her cheek with his lips when he walked by, falling asleep with an arm loose around her hip, stroking the back of her hand by the fire.

It was wonderful and infuriating all at once. Delaney couldn’t help but lean into him, unable to resist his touch, even though she knew it would crush her even more once Sunday rolled around and it was time to leave. She could barely even think about telling her family they’d ‘broken up’—but she was getting ahead of herself.

She knew she should bring it up with him, tell him how she felt, but she couldn’t bear to make things weird and ruin the rest of the trip. For the rest of the week, she reasoned, she’d let herself live in the fantasy. Enjoy another few days of blissful ignorance. And she’d deal with the consequences of her actions later.

Hurt feelings were future Delaney’s problem.

It was Friday when the kids announced that everyone was cordially invited to a play performed by them that evening. Both Delaney and Tyson helped them to construct a few of the props necessary—including a reindeer made out of a tarp and a bike and multiple paper crowns.

Before the show, Delaney followed Tyson into the kitchen to retrieve a beverage for the show. As she poured herself a glass of wine, Tyson passed behind her, hand brushing against her waist when he reached past her to grab a High Noon from the fridge. They turned at the same time, bumping into one another, causing her white wine to spill down her front.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” she said, only to have him interrupt with a sudden kiss.

Initially caught off guard, it only took her a few moments to recover before she was kissing back, addicted to the feeling of his lips against hers. That same beautiful warmth filled her, a kind of light that she only experienced with him. She wanted to devour him, to have him devour her, to think and feel nothing but Tyson—

And then he pulled away. Lips wet, cheeks flushed, she could see the emotion swirling behind his beautiful brown eyes. “Delaney—”

But, with her wits about her now that he wasn’t making her dizzy with his kiss, she knew what came next. She interrupted him before he could finish. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Tyson’s brows furrowed together, confusion knitting between them. “Don’t what?”

Delaney shook her head and repeated herself. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it. It isn’t fair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think you’re catching feelings, right? Because you’ve had to act like it all week.”

Tyson blinked, clearly surprised that she’d taken the words out of his mouth. But the surprised expression quickly morphed into one of frustration.

“So you’re not even going to give me the chance to speak?”

“I can’t hear you say it, Tyson—not unless you mean it,” Delaney said, then added softly, “Not when this has been the best week of my life because I’ve gotten to pretend you were mine—which is all I’ve wanted since we met.”

She watched his eyes soften, and the pity she imagined there nearly made her sick. It was a necessary evil, though; she needed to intercept his confession before he said it out loud. She couldn’t bear to hear him emit those words, couldn’t hear him confirm what she knew to be true: a future with her wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d never say it, probably wouldn’t even admit it to himself, but she knew that he was too good for her, that someone like her didn’t deserve someone like him. She wasn’t ready to burst the final bubble of her beautiful fantasy, leaving her cold and sad and alone.

But instead of sympathy, or a patronizing statement, Tyson adopted a bite to his words. “You think I fell for you on purpose? I didn’t have a choice, Delaney.”

Something about the way he said it felt like a slash to her heart, like he had fallen for her but wished he hadn’t. It stung more than she expected, more than him simply not reciprocating her feelings.

“This was your idea in the first place, Tyson. You committed to this,” she reminded him coolly. “It’s not my fault you’ve never seen a rom-com before. I didn’t force you to do shit.”

“Delaney, that’s not what I’m saying—”

Against her will, tightness formed in her throat, a sting hot behind her eyes. “I thought I could handle it. Having you be mine. I’ve always known it would come to an end, that I’d have to go back to life as it was. But I didn’t realize how much different it’d be knowing how it feels to kiss you, to hold your hand. To have you look at me like I’m the only person in the world.”

“Then you should’ve fucking told me that before you let me be your boyfriend!”

This is going nowhere, she thought to herself. She needed to walk away from him, right now, before the wall of tears threatening to burst through came pouring out.

Delaney took a breath, searching for the words that would wound him the way he wounded her. She steeled herself, feeling a cool exterior blanket her and harden into place like a cast. “Well, I didn’t. Sue me. I just need you to do your job for another 24 hours, and after that, we don’t ever have to speak again. Okay?”

She turned on her heel without waiting for a response, though she heard him say her name as she walked back outside to where her family was gathered on the patio. Her body thrummed as she returned to Rachel’s side, her younger sister casting a glance of concern in her direction. Delaney ignored her, smiling and turning to Hailey, Noah, and Olivia’s performance—Frozen, the musical.

A movement in her periphery told her that Tyson, too, had returned to the group, taking the seat beside the makeshift stage that Olivia had saved for him. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

“Good?” Rachel’s voice was quiet, subtle, concerned. Delaney nodded, and she knew that her sister knew she wasn’t, in fact, good. She was grateful that Rachel knew her well enough to know to let it be, that she’d talk when she was ready. For now, Delaney wanted to stew a little bit.

So stew she did, staying mostly quiet as the musical wrapped up. The performers received a standing ovation before a fire was started and the usual chatter began. Darkness fell, the moon rising higher in the sky, their voices swallowed by the night air. Delaney offered a few comments here and there and helped Noah with his s’more, watching the group dwindle as more and more of them went off to bed for the night. Tyson, to his credit, remained by the fire too, helping to keep the kindle stocked—almost like he was saying, ‘I can go all night.’

But so could she.

—

The crackle of the wood and the lick of the flames hypnotized Tyson, pulling him in and quieting thoughts running through his mind as he replayed the conversation they’d had. Admittedly, he’d lost his temper a little bit, frustrated that Delaney wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise, that she’d somehow made him out to be the bad guy.

As the kids began to make their way to bed, Tyson indulged in another beer—or three. Not enough to be drunk drunk, but enough to wash away some of the rogue emotions swimming around inside of him. He kept his eye on Delaney, who appeared to be stewing silently across from him and refusing to make eye contact with him.

But he was determined; he wasn’t going to let her slip away—not this time. Not after her confession. Not when he still had things to say that she needed to hear.

So he waited, making casual conversation with those remaining, the chairs around him slowly emptying out until it was only him, Dean, and Delaney remaining. He cast another glance over to her, startled to see her already looking at him. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, but he held her gaze through the tips of the orange flames dancing between them regardless. Something in his heart swelled, even though he was pretty sure he’d fucked it all up—he just wasn’t exactly sure what he did wrong.

“You know, your mother and I looked at each other like that.”

With a blink, Delaney broke eye contact to turn and look at Dean. Tyson had never heard her talk about her mom, save for an occasional memory. Her lips parted—in surprise, maybe—before she said, “Like what?”

“Like there was no one else around,” Dean said simply.

Delaney’s eyes flicked to Tyson’s. He swallowed carefully, suddenly all too aware at Dean’s implication, whether intentional or not. As her boyfriend, he was supposed to want a future with her: that was the end goal.

He didn’t have to feel guilty.

So he smiled, letting her see the warmth and happiness that Dean’s statement filled him with. He wanted her to know that when he was with her, the rest of the world faded away.

She was his Cape Cod. His escape from the upcoming pressures of free agency, of the already-exhausting training regimen that waited for him upon return home, of his future in the NHL on the line. With Delaney, none of it seemed to matter so much. As long as she was by his side, everything seemed like it’d be okay.

“Goodnight, you two,” said Dean’s amused voice. In his inner monologue, Tyson had completely forgotten that Dean was around, and he jumped slightly when he’d interrupted his train of thought. “Put the fire out when you come inside, will you?”

“Yeah,” Delaney called after him, glancing back at Tyson. “Goodnight, dad.”

Tyson waited until the crunch of Dean’s shoes on the sand disappeared up the lighted walkway to the house. “Delaney…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I was being selfish. I shouldn’t have— it wasn’t fair of me to not even let you say your piece.”

“I didn't know how you felt. I… I wish you’d told me,” he said, gently. “I wouldn’t have wanted to tease you.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird between us,” she confessed. “I didn’t really think about anything being different after this.”

Tyson nodded in understanding. The fire crackled beside him, burning bright in the cool darkness around them. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his proximity to Delaney that made everything seem so damn beautiful. Probably a mix of both.

“You can say your piece now. I won’t interrupt this time.” She smiled, following where his gaze had just been, watching a spark pop beneath one of the logs.

“It’s not much of a piece,” he said. “I didn’t really think about how I was going to say this.”

“So, just say it.”

“I love you.”

Delaney snorted, rolling her eyes. “Tyson, you’re drunk.”

“I know. This isn’t exactly the way I envisioned first saying it to you, but I need you to know,” he confessed, aware that he was on the verge of drunk rambling. He composed himself and repeated, “I love you, Delaney.”

Delaney’s smile faded, staring at him. Her eyes studied his face, almost like she was searching for the truth in his own eyes. Convinced he could prove it, he stood and walked around the fire, moving into the empty seat beside her—only wobbling once en route. Her breath caught in her throat at the new proximity and he reached across the armrest to take her hand in his.

“You said not to say it unless I meant it,” he whispered. “I mean it.”

He watched as the weight of his words settled in, even drunk Tyson having enough wherewithal to know that it was time for silence. Slowly, a smile began to spread across her features.

Illuminated by the glow of the fire, Tyson thought it was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her look.

“Are you still gonna mean it when we leave here on Sunday?” she asked, eyeing him. “You’re not going to get back to Buffalo and shake out of this vacation high?”

“Whatever you need me to do to prove it to you, I will,” he said solemnly. “But I really, really would like to kiss you first, if that’s okay with you.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, just briefly, but then she was smiling again and nodding. With a finesse that only a drunk person could manage, he leaned forward to cup her jaw with his hand, nose brushing her own affectionately. He savored the feeling of her breath against his lips and closed his eyes.

As it had both times before, her kiss lit him on fire from the inside out. He poured himself into her, hoping that he could convey his sincerity with the depth of his kiss.

SIX WEEKS LATER

The buzz of her phone had Delaney setting down the Lego instruction booklet to glance at it. Smiling at the contact photo—Tyson, freshly awoken, his hair sticking straight up—she turned the screen to Noah, earning a wide smile with an extra tooth missing. She swiped to answer, letting the camera face her nephew.

“Noah! Hey, buddy,” Tyson’s voice greeted with a laugh. “What’re you up to?”

“We’re making a Spiderman Lego set! Look!”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I wish I could do it with you. You look like a real hockey player with those teeth missing.”

Noah smiled again, showing off the two gaps where his baby teeth had recently fallen out. Delaney started to flip the camera back to herself when a voice sounded from the other room. “Tyson! Tyson!”

Little feet pattered excitedly through the doorway, Olivia’s face beaming as she ran to grab the phone from Delaney’s hands. “Hi, Tyson.”

“Hey, Liv. When are you coming to visit me and Aunt Dee?”

She jumped up and down excitedly, looking at Delaney. “Aunt Dee said we can come and have a sleepover over winter break!”

“That sounds awesome. We can wear matching pajamas,” he said, earning a giggle from Olivia, who launched into an elaborate itinerary for their slumber party, including candy, a makeover, and a Frozen marathon.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “Hey, do you think I could talk to Aunt Dee?”

With a nod, Olivia said her goodbyes and made him promise to text her goodnight. Flipping the camera back to herself, Delaney smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Hi.”

“Hi, muffin,” he said, an easy smile curling up on his own face. He was sitting outside on a porch, curls peeking out from under a gray hoodie. “How was your interview?”

“Really good. We’re going to schedule a final interview at the museum next week once I get back. I’m pretty sure I’m going to get the job.”

Tyson’s smile grew wider. “That’s great news. One step closer to the Met!”

“I’m good with Buffalo’s art museum for now,” she said. “I don’t want to be that far from you.”

“Aww, honey bear,” he teased. Delaney wrinkled her nose, rolling her eyes at him. Her interview had been over video call, taken from Ben’s office at their house in Rochester. If all went well, she would soon become Buffalo AKG Art Museum’s new Membership Coordinator.

Things were looking up for her. And even though life wasn’t perfect, she had Tyson and her family to help her get through whatever came her way.

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Third Time’s the Charm* Adore You Love It If We Made It* One Night Standards

#tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #tyson jost x oc #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fanfiction #banners and dividers by @cafekitsune

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lulublack90 · 2 months ago

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Prompt 30 - Dress

@jegulus-microfic September 30, Word count 738

Regulus stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at himself. His grey eyes were wide as he took everything in. He’d wanted to experiment with more feminine-styled clothing, but he hadn’t been expecting Sirius to put a black dress in his hands and tell him to go get changed, after the first time he mentioned it.

The dress was simple, Sirius said it was a midi dress, but Regulus didn’t really understand what that meant. Sirius had also given him a silver-coloured slim belt to go around his waist in the shape of a snake. He loved it. The skirt swirled when he twisted his hips and fell back when he stopped.

The door opened, and Sirius swept in, wearing a more revealing black dress to match. It was short in the front and long in the back, following him like a cloak. His tattoos stood out on his porcelain skin, and the light makeup made him look elegant yet totally capable of kicking your arse if you upset him.

“Wow, Reggie, you look stunning,” Sirius beamed at him. “Twirl for me,” And Regulus did, his face blushing at Sirius’s compliment.

“You look- I erm- I don’t know how to say—” Regulus stuttered. He was not one for giving compliments. “You look nice,” He winced. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was all he could think of. Sirius’s smile got even bigger. Regulus found himself being squeezed in a hug.

“Can I put some makeup on you?” Sirius asked, pulling away and scrutinising Regulus’s face. Regulus swallowed but nodded. He’d seen how good Sirius was with makeup. The girls regularly asked him to do theirs if they were going out somewhere special.

Sirius was just about done when the front door banged shut.

“Hey Pads, you home?” James called into the flat.

“Yeah, back here,” Sirius answered, his hand completely steady as he finished drawing the dark kohl across Regulus’s eyelids. James wandered in and whistled.

“Damn, Pads, looking good,” He said appreciatively. Sirius moved aside, revealing Regulus. James’s jaw dropped.

“What do you think, Prongs?” Sirius asked. “I’m thinking that silver and emerald necklace Alphard gave me and those soft slouch boots to finish it off,” James didn’t answer. “Prongs you're drooling,” Sirius jabbed an elbow in his ribs.

“Ooof! Sorry, Sirius, what did you say?”

“Doesn’t matter, get in my room, I’ve laid out your clothes for tonight,” Sirius had to forcefully take James to his room and came back with the things he’d mentioned.

Sirius clasped the necklace around Regulus’s neck and helped steady him as he stepped into the boots. “Perfect,” Sirius crooned and led Regulus out into the living room where James was already waiting.

James was dressed in an emerald green shirt and black trousers. Regulus glowered at Sirius; he’d made them match.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Remus gasped as he ran through the door. “Sorry, I got carried away reshelving the returned books,” He smiled ruefully at Sirius. “You look gorgeous by the way,” He grinned soppily at Sirius, making Sirius roll his eyes fondly.

“Come on then, let's get you looking presentable. You two good to wait a few minutes?” Sirius asked as he led Remus to the bedroom.

“You look edible,” James said, biting his lower lips and raking his eyes over Regulus, taking him in, once Sirius and Remus were out of sight. Regulus laughed, embarrassed, and James took his chance and stole a kiss. Regulus swatted him away.

“Behave, or you’ll smudge my makeup, and Sirius will kill you,” He chastised, secretly loving how dark James’s eyes had gone. “You can smudge it all you like later,” He teased as he pressed a hand to James’s chest, rising up on his tiptoes to whisper in James’s ear. He nipped James’s earlobe and stood back but stayed close enough that James’s hand that had automatically found his waist stayed there. James let out a low moan. Just as he leant forward to steal a kiss, Sirius and Remus came back, Remus now dressed in jeans and a shirt, his cardigan looped over one arm and the other looped through Sirius's.

“Let’s go!” Sirius said excitedly, and he swept from the flat with Remus at his side, leaving Regulus and James to follow. Regulus was nervous, but he knew that as long as he stayed with his boyfriend and his brother he’d be fine.

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marthawrites · 1 year ago

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The Night's Conquest

Daemon Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 2.1k+

About: It's Daemon's last night in King's Landing and he seeks one final comfort at the Blue Pearl.

Includes: Smut featuring themes of power imbalance (reader is a whore), roughness, minor slapping, blowjob, degrading language, makeshift bondage, and unprotected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! Story takes place after the confrontation scene between Viserys and Daemon in episode 1. Story is based on THIS request and HERE is the prompt list used. If the anon who requested this fic is here, I apologize for making you wait so long! I hope this story makes up for it! Reader is nondescript. As always, please enjoy!

The Street of Silk was no stranger to Daemon Targaryen’s presence. Despite the night’s late hour revelries persisted inside buildings donned with red curtains. The Blue Pearl, one of his favorite brothels among the district, welcomed him warmly as ever.

No one could deny a dragon prince.

The Rogue Prince.

“Back again so soon?” The Madame asked with an amused arch of brow, blatantly raking her kohl-lined eyes along his black and red clad form. “Did your lickspittles get all the fun earlier?”

He was here earlier, it’s true, and they did get most of the fun. He had his own reason to celebrate. To mourn. To grace his men of the City Watch with indulgences.

“You are to return to Runestone with your lady wife at once. And you are to do so at once without quarrel. By order of your King.” Viserys’ words echoed in Daemon’s head, rage simmering to a boiling point again and again on his ride from the Red Keep to where he stood now.

“Where is she?” Daemon asked sharply, scattered candle and torch light making his violet eyes blaze.

She knew who he was talking about, of course. You. His favorite whore since first meeting beneath this very same roof. He had little interest in other women aside from his other favorite, Mysaria. Sometimes, when desire burned his belly like the mightiest of forges, he’d have both of you at the same time. Once, when you were already entertaining another man, he had all three of you. Hot-headed and equally hot-blooded, Daemon reveled in pleasure of all sorts. His charm and looks made the salacity all the more thrilling.

“Here, my dragon prince,” you said as you appeared from behind a silken wall. The outer showy layer, a fine decorative myrish lace, whispered between your fingertips as you moved into view. Your dual layered gown was of fine craft thanks to Daemon and his lustful appetites. The polished silver of your belt shone as you strode to him. You looked up at him demurely, already sensing his ire.

The prince produced payment from one of his pockets before guiding you along at his pace. No other interaction was needed between him and your Madame. Only you. “I’m going to absolutely wreck you,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. He meant it; a deep, ancient part of your brain knew it.

Gooseflesh prickled where his warm breath washed along your neck. Heat radiated out from him and you wanted nothing more than to feel his fire against your naked skin. He pushed you into your private room. Just as the door clicked shut you turned on your toes to face him, breast to breast, peering up at him with adoring eyes; darkened eyes. “I can take more than you can think,” you said, voice playful despite the heaviness of your tone. Your hands splayed over his wide chest. He was all warm and solid, even when you pressed lower along his abdomen. His muscles were warmed by a layer of fat that had your core clenching each time you saw him bare; and even now with him fully clothed. You loved his warrior’s body.

Daemon, usually one to entertain the art of teasing, wasn’t in the mood tonight. “On your knees, girl. I will have your mouth first and none of your honeyed words,” he said fiercely, squeezing your face so he had your full attention. “If you can moan ‘my King’ or ‘Your Grace’ from around my cock, that is all I will hear. Do you understand?”

The intensity of his regard frightened you. His grip was hard, and it squished your cheeks in a humiliating manner. Yet, you couldn’t stop the rush of heat that burned from the tips of ears, to your cunt, and everywhere between. You nodded; it was all you could do.

“That’s what I thought,” he all but spat as he gave your cheek a praising slap. His free hand was already unbuckling and undoing the front of his pants. Spreading his feet a bit further apart, he rooted into the ground as he pushed you down. “Knees.”

Partially dazed, you did as you were told. You helped open his pants and helped push them down, too. With his cock free you saw it was only half hard, but it did little to hinder your gnawing desire. You stroked down his muscled thighs, then up, and again, and delighted in the rasp of his hair beneath your smooth palms. On one upward press, your hands snaked behind him and squeezed his muscled backside. That's when you took him into your mouth. Looking up at him, you basked in the way his lids fluttered closed. A satisfied sigh exhaled from his chest when you swallowed more of his length and it spurred you on like nothing else could.

Daemon Targaryen, the Lord of Fea Bottom, groaning at the warmth and sensation of your mouth. He could have any whore he wanted – and probably any person he wanted – but he chose you. Your cunt ached with pride.

Both of the prince’s hands slid through your hair completely uncaring of its neat style. Rough fingers slid against your delicate scalp and those same fingers squeezed at the roots. His hips rocked into you as he pulled your head deeper against his pelvis. Back, and forth, up, and down, he fucked your mouth for his own pleasure. His breath grew ragged. Heavier.

Saliva built in your mouth and saliva dribbled from your mouth. You tried to keep looking up at Daemon all the while, but he appeared too lost in his own head to pay attention. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as his pace increased. He pushed and pulled, harder and harder, guiding your slobbery mouth all along each rigid inch of his aching cock. The space between your thighs clenched with need. Arousal slicked your thighs. You desperately wanted to touch yourself but knew he wouldn’t approve. He began to throb inside the wrap of your mouth and you braced yourself for the shoot of his spend down your throat. He stopped just before, however, finally looking at you with savage eyes. With darkened features he edged himself to let you catch your heaving breath. “Don’t stop,” you said up to him. “Harder,” you breathed. “Make it hurt, my King.”

“What a fucking greedy little slut,” he crooned, giving you no chance to take your words back before his hand knotted in your hair once again. “Cum hungry whore. Will you cry before I fill your belly with seed?” He asked with a tilt of his head, pushing your face harshly into his groin so your throat constricted around the entirety of his cock; gagging.

You were helpless to him. You looked up at him with tear streaked cheeks and the dragon in his blood roared. His pace became brutal, then; wild, even. You were naught but a plaything for him, an eager, needy little thing for his pleasure. It didn’t take much longer for his head to tip back and his hold to still so your hot, gagging, tight throat squeezed around him. A long series of groans rumbled from his chest as he unloaded directly down your wanton mouth. You barely had the chance to taste him before he was pulling you onto your wobbly legs.

Daemon visited the brothel in an array of moods, yet this was mayhaps the most aggressive you'd seen him. You hadn't a clue as to why. You weren't sure if you should ask, or if you even wanted to know why. Politicking of royals was something you couldn’t truly imagine.

Steering you towards the bed, he began to tug your dress off your shoulders. Even though he just spent himself you could already feel him swelling back to life behind you. Whatever happened before he came to you affected him deeply. “I am yours to use, my prince. How can I help you relax?” You asked as he pushed you onto the mattress.

“The only thing I need is your pretty, filthy, whore mouth screaming as I fuck you,” he answered sharply.

Anticipation and excitement filled your belly. “You spoil me, my prince,” you said, smiling wide, as you looked at him with yearning. Your thighs spilled open when you said, “I am more than ready, my King. Can you see how wet you’ve made me?”

The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he climbed atop it with you. He grinned. It reached his eyes in a way that sent his pupils dancing. You wondered if he smiled like this on the battlefield with blood splattering his face. You could see it in your mind’s eye; your cunny throbbed untouched. He wrapped a big hand around your throat as he lined up with your desperate entrance.

“W-wait!” You breathed. “Tie me up and fuck me hard. Please, my prince. Let the binds and my body sate your anger. Render me as helpless as you wish to see those who speak against you." Were you proposing something greater than you could handle? Perhaps. Daemon had never been cruel to you, however, and you had faith he'd pull back if you were pushed too far.

A laugh followed his smile, and following that came the sound of tearing cloth. Your pretty silken gown wasn’t a match for Daemon. “You can buy another,” he said down to you as he ripped off a second strip. The first he used around your ankles. He kissed the inside of each before tying them together with the makeshift bind. The second he used around your wrists. He offered those the same treatment. “If you wish to only be a hole then so be it,” he said lowly, a near growl, as he held your bound ankles in his hands, sinking his cock into the depths of your body in a single powerful thrust.

The prince’s weight pushed against your ass when he sheathed fully into you. You desperately wanted to scratch his back. Squeeze his shoulders. Biceps. Drag your fingernails down the front of his chest. Anything. But, bound as your wrists were, you were denied the pleasure. Instead you arched beneath him, gasping a choked moan while he speared into you. Your body, soaked and ready, yielded with some restraint; the Rogue Prince sizeable in girth and length.

He pulled back only to slam forward again. Soon your arousal slicked his groin, his stones, and wet slaps of skin on skin accented the vulgarity of his night’s conquest.

You would happily be his conquest at any hour of the sun or moon.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, voice strained from the effort of rutting into you.

“Yes!” You squealed. “More, please, my prince!”

He squeezed the backside of your knees for support as he leaned and bent your body in half. Your knees were as close to your shoulders as they could be, thighs squished against your breasts. He dragged his cock out only to fuck it back into you. Over and over. Your sounds of pleasure and cries of his name were music to his ears. His ego. Seeing you so helpless and submissive beneath him, hearing you so eagerly accept him, licked flames all along his spine. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“R-i-ght there, my King!” You stammered. He pounded right there with enough force to have your eyes rolling closed. The fullness of your legs tightened before trembling. All the tension in your belly snapped. Climax washed over you in a blinding wave of bliss. The walls of your cunt convulsed around him wildly and Daemon didn’t stand a chance against that. His peak followed. Instead of unloading against the deepest part of your body, however, he pulled out just in time to splatter his seed along your belly and tits. He groaned as his cock twitched on its own, its final drop of spend landing on your pubic bone. You both smiled at each other breathlessly.

The prince rolled onto his back to catch his breath and allowed you to do the same. After a few moments of satisfied laughter and contented silence, he began to unbind your ankles and wrists. “I leave for Dragonstone in the morning,” he said as he carefully wiped his mess from you. “I’m unsure if or when I’ll be back. You’ll stay here and be a good little girl for me, won’t you? Alert me of anything you hear?”

Despite your satiated desires, you were saddened by the news. “Of course, my prince. Will you stay a little longer tonight?”

“I will.” And he did until dawn started to lighten the sky.

That morning, when you heard Mysaria was gone, too, you could only wonder what she and Daemon were doing at his ancestral seat.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Daemon taglist: @sahvlren @abbyandizzysmum @boofy1998

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon fic #daemon smut #daemon imagine #request

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stars-by-the-pocketfuls · 1 month ago

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💫 29/10/24 💫 @rosekillermicrofic 💫 prompt: lonely 💫 word count: 252 words

This summer was going to be dreadful. Perhaps it was the oppressive heat, or the endless static silence, but he was already counting down the days until Hogwarts. The corridors were long and silent, and the house sat empty in the sprawling fields. Evan had fallen asleep many times in the long grass or a tree or on a roof and no one was any wiser. Or rather no one cared.

Pandora had been sent away to a finishing school as if she was a half baked girl that needed to be run back through a cookie cutter. Felix had been sent away to his nan who liked to pretend Evan's mum never happened. And Evan had been left behind as his dad and step-mum trailed around Europe. His only company were the snarky portraits who liked to comment on the fact that he was single and friendless. The barbs of being lonely faded each holiday but it wasn't long enough to numb the sting completely. But this was the last summer he was going to wallow in self pity.

Green was the colour of the fire when he floo called Barty, and the faded ends of his hair, and his kohl-lined eyes.

“My parents are out,” he murmurs into the flames. Barty smirks back.

Suddenly, he doesn't mind being home alone. And the portraits stop their jeering. In fact for some reason they stop speaking to him at all, and refuse to go in his wing of the house again. Strange.

#stars scrawls #look at me go omg #marauders era #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #rosekiller microfics

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guilty-pleasures21 · 1 month ago

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The heretic princess

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Warnings: none.

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

His gaze swept over the crowd, taking in all the people who had gathered to celebrate his coronation. The atmosphere was electric, the excitement surrounding him contagious. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as Iset approached him, stepping forward to perform the ritual of her Goddess.

“Is she here?” Miguel asked her, murmuring the words discreetly through his smile. You hadn’t responded to his letter, but he had to assume that you’d come; the Head Priestess had, after all, and he’d explicitly commanded her to bring you along when she came for the ceremony. And no one would dare refuse an order from their future king.

Iset’s hand paused for the briefest of moments, just enough to let him know that she’d heard him. “In the crowd, my King. She mentioned beforehand to tell you that you look incredibly handsome today.”

His lips stretched even wider and he lowered his head slightly to hide his blush. He didn’t know why, but imagining those words in your voice … It made his stomach tighten and his body heat up with excitement. He straightened, careful to keep the smile on his face so that no one would discern the minute movements of his lips.

“I am sure I will pale in comparison to her,” he assured Iset, his tone confident. “She will be there tonight, yes?”

Iset stepped back, a rush of victory flooding her at the hint of aggression - of threat - that had entered his voice at the question.

“Yes, my King,” she replied, her lips curling ever so slightly at the ends. “Just as you have requested.”

You pace your rooms, waiting for Iset to escort you to the feast. You’d wanted to watch the ceremony from the dias, together with the other nobles, where you belonged, but Iset had insisted that Miguel should only see you at the ball tonight: where you would be made up like a pretty little doll, ready to take his breath away. Your heart thuds in your chest as you remember how handsome he’d looked, accepting the crown that pronounced him ruler of the entire kingdom. Would he fall for you? How? How could he when there were so many more beautiful women waiting to catch his attention? You look up as Iset sweeps into your room, looking like the Goddess incarnate in her glimmering white sheath, her thick, dark wig and her long cerulean earrings. She stops in front of you and appraises you carefully, taking in your appearance.

Your hair had been left loose save for two braids that stretched around the top of your head, the strands woven with a golden ribbon to give you the appearance of wearing a crown. Your makeup had been carefully done, your eyes lined with kohl that swept towards your brows and your cheeks and lips tinted with a hint of rouge. Your dress was long and flowing, the finely ground crystals sitting atop the golden fabric catching the light whenever you moved. The neck was deep - lower than you were accustomed to - leaving space for the plentiful rows of crystal and gold to sit prettily atop your chest. Iset holds her hand out, gesturing for yours, then she meticulously inspects each of the golden bangles lining your forearms. Finally, she ends her examination.

“The king asked of you,” she revealed calmly, “when he was seated atop the dais.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you take care to not let your excitement show on your features. Iset nods in approval, then turns back to the door.

“I told him that you had wanted me to inform him of how incredibly handsome he looked today,” she continues, prompting you to freeze suddenly. How could she say that?! It was so embarrassing! Now Miguel would just think of you as a silly little girl who had become infatuated with the young and strong king! How would he ever see you as his future Queen now?!

Iset stops by the door, recalling the king’s response to her flattery. “He seemed rather pleased to hear that you had such an opinion of him.”

You rush forward to catch up with her, your horror quickly consumed by your curiosity. “How do you know?”

The corner of Iset’s lips twitches as she studies your hopeful expression. She twists the handle and steps out into the hallway.

“Because he smiled and blushed like a little schoolboy,” she tells you. You pause to consider his reaction. Miguel? Blushing at something he thought you’d said? You look up to question Iset further, but find that she is already halfway down the corridor.

“Did … Were any other words exchanged between the two of you?” you asked when you catch up to her. She doesn’t stop to look at you, but you notice the way her lips curl into a smirk at your question.

“He said that he would pale in comparison to you,” she replied. “And then he made sure that you would be at the feast tonight.”

She slides her gaze to you and the both of you recall what he’d written in his letter to you: ‘I must see you, kitty, I can bear it no longer. Be sure that you are present at my coronation - and the feast after. I will come find you - there is much we have to discuss. I request this of you not only as your future king, but also as your best friend. Signed, your duckie’

‘Do you think-” You cut yourself off as you stop in front of the doors to the Great Hall, your insides twisting with fear. “No, it is best not to speculate. Whatever news he has to share with me, I shall receive it with grace … and dignity.”

Iset turns to face you, proud of how far you have come from that scared and petulant child that had showed up at her temple so long ago. You truly would make a fine Queen.

“You must remember, Y/N, that you alone are the last true princess of this kingdom,” she reminds you, adjusting one of your curls. “You were born a Royal and that is something that no one can ever take away from you.”

You nod in understanding, then turn back to the doors, taking a moment to gather your courage. Finally, you suck in a deep breath, then step into the Hall, ready to find out what your future holds.

He waited in the hallway as the steward announced his name. He couldn’t believe that his nerves were still alight with excitement, even after the long day he’d already had. But the celebration that accompanied a coronation was one that matched no other, and he could feel the feverishness still palpable in the air. He stepped into the room, his parents close behind, and his gaze travelled across the room as he took in all his subjects bowing to him in reverence. And then his eyes landed on you.

You smiled at him, waiting for him to notice you, and only after his features had lit up with recognition did you bend over into a bow. You straightened together with everyone else and he found himself unable to pull his gaze away from you. Wow. What a woman you had grown into! Your smile? Even sweeter than he’d remembered? Your cute little face? Slimmer now that you had begun growing into your features? And your body … His heart sped up as his gaze trailed down your delicious curves, so beautifully accentuated by your shimmering golden sheath, and his stomach tightened when he noticed your now ample bosom. He swallowed hard and pulled his eyes back up to yours, only to find you giving him another saccharine smile. You tilted your head to the side and his heart fluttered in response.

Now you understood why Iset had wanted you to see him first without having him see you: where you were able to keep your head on straight, Miguel looked like he was practically floating over to you with hearts in his eyes. You hold his gaze, fighting down the instinct to look away shyly as your heart swells in size - he had to be the one chasing after you this time. You wait patiently for him to approach you, but are interrupted by one of the Royal Advisors - one of his advisors now, you remind yourself - who starts turning him away from you.

“My King, if you would …” Miguel glances back at you as he is pulled away to speak with some of his guests and you bite down on a laugh at the obvious desperation on his face.

“No. Wait, I …” He tries to protest - to stop himself from being dragged away from you - and you flash him a reassuring smile. He grins back at you, his features softening at the comforting familiarity that remained between the two of you, and he twists his head to follow you as his advisors continue pulling him away.

“What?!” he snarled, turning to face whoever it was his advisors had wanted him to speak to. How dare they try to drag him away from you?! How dare they think that anyone could possibly be more important than you! With your beautiful smile and your stunning dress and your mouth-watering figure …

“S-Sire,” the emissary of their most important ally stuttered, taken aback by Miguel’s uncharacteristically unfriendly demeanour. “My King extends his congratulations on your coronation.”

“Oh. Yes.” Miguel fixed his well-practiced diplomatic smile on his face and resigned himself to his fate for the next gods knew how many hours.

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quecksilvereyes · 10 months ago

Note

“You cannot live your life to please others. the choice must be yours.” Susan

Uh. So this prompt possessed me a little bit, I sure hope smoking isn't a trigger for you, anon.

____

Sometimes, in the summers, when the air is thick and heavy, dripping with unshed rain and pressing into the hollow of her clavicles, Susan Pevensie stands in her mother's garden, and bathes in the sun. She drapes her blouse, soaked with sweat, and her skirt, soaked with perfume, over the old rocking chair that has long since splintered under the weight of its age, and then:

A breath.

With closed eyes and soft mouth, rouge-dotted and lipstick-smeared, Susan Pevensie tilts her face towards the light. Her brassiere is damp with English rain that won't fall, her petticoats are stiff with English breeze that won't blow and her wrists are strung up by English strings that won't pull.

Blue skies are rare, here. England is grey, and England is cloudy, and England rains and rains and rains until it has made itself sick and its ground unsteady. Some weeks, the clouds hang low for so long that the sun cannot reach what it wishes to nourish. Some weeks, Susan sits by her window, her head pressed against the glass, and watches the clouds drip into fog, the fog drip into the earth, and the earth drown and cry. Until her skin matches the grey of the skies, until her mind drips from her every breath onto the paneled glass, until she can't see through the fog, anymore.

"Su", says her brother, then, his hands on her forehead, his mouth in her hair. "Susie." His hands, shaking and unsteady, are warm and getting warmer with every passed winter. His voice, soft and careful and stripped of teeth, drops steadily deeper. When he turns his head, the beginnings of a stubble scrape against her cheek.

"Light of my life, sun of my skies."

The skies are grey. The grass is grey. The fence is grey. The world is grey.

Peter's eyes are blue. The clouds don't gather around his pupils, and his irises are clear as they've been for days. The English sky has never echoed the yellow freckles.

The Narnian skies were ever centered around the pupil of her sun, in the soft yellow streaks of Peter's eyes.

Susan wets her lips. She doesn't wet her cheeks.

Peter climbs onto the bench. "My sister", he says softly. "Where have you gone?"

Susan buries her face in his chest and leaves behind great streaks of make-up on his bleached dress shirt: a mouth of lipstick, a blur of rouge, a dust of powder. Splotches of mascara, lines of kohl. Marks of eyeshadow.

Peter rubs her back, and Susan doesn't cry.

In the summers, she drinks the sun with greedy mouth and empty stomach and hungry, hungry skin. In the dripping air and the burning grass, Susan Pevensie strips to her undergarments - and breathes.

In, and out.

A breath, and then another.

Beyond her closed eyes, the world drips reds and oranges, and bright, stark yellows. Beyond her hollow mouth, the air coats her windpipe; a slow dripping of heat.

She is alone, here. She drops her ball-jointed limbs and her painted porcelain face, turns her opal glass palms right side up, and breathes.

Until her lungs settle, and the fog has run dry. Until the colours are a bit sharper, a bit brighter. A smear more familiar.

The party is slow. Nicotine gathers heavy on the ceiling, and the music is a little too loud to be ambient. The drinks are spiked, the hems are lifted, and Susan is standing by the door, watching her friend lose the last of her lipstick to a stranger's mouth.

The boy is. Well, he's fine. Polite and gentle, soft-spoken. He ducks his head and worries the tips of his fingers and the spread of his lips until they bleed. His hair would curl, if it was long enough, and when she blows smoke in his direction, he coughs.

Smiles.

Susan takes another drag of her cigarette. Flicks the ash to the floor. Smiles.

"You'll have to forgive the cigarette", she says around the smoke seeping from her mouth. "It calms me down."

The boy blinks at her, and wets his bottom lip. It is dark with blood, dotted purple where he has almost broken skin, swollen with the almost-injury. "I can't imagine anyone ever denies you much of anything", he says. "You're too pretty for that."

"Too pretty to be annoyed with?"

He shrugs. His shoulders are slumped forwards, and it makes his suit jacket sit oddly on the rounded curve of his back. "People love pretty things. Better to keep them around."

Her cigarette is stained with her lipstick, and the tips of her fingers drip with it. The smoke in her lungs is warm, and the alcohol in her blood is warmer, still, so Susan tilts her head. "When I was a little girl, my mother bought me a little lace collar. I wore it until it broke, and begged her to fix it when it had long become too threadbare to even be touched."

The boy nods, and takes a breath.

Susan clicks her tongue. "I'd gotten beet juice on it, and it wouldn't come out in the wash. No matter the soap, no matter the scrub. There was a small pink stain near the lapel, and it simply bled in all directions. So my mother soaked it in bleach."

The boy cannot pull his shoulders forwards any further. He cannot bend his back more. He digs his teeth into the purple marks on his lips.

"The bleach dissolved most of it. The lace was too delicate." Susan throws the cigarette stub on the floor and savours the last breath of it, the hot coating of her tongue. "If she hadn't tried to get the stain out, it wouldn't have broken."

The boy's teeth break his skin. The blood pools, dark and shy, around the enamel and into the corners of his mouth. "You couldn't have worn the stained collar", he says, with his soft voice and his soft eyes, his soft, soft hair.

"Why not?"

"Well", says the boy. His shirt is starched and bleached. There is a wrinkle ironed firmly into the placket. He coughs again. "It was already ruined before your mother bleached it. It was stained."

Susan crushes the stub underneath her shoe. The music covers the sound of the grinding and the soft hiss of the dying embers. "It was mine, and I loved it", she says. "Was it my mother's call to make what I could bear?"

The boy shrugs. "It's a lace collar. There are others."

Susan hums. "Perhaps. But I wanted this one." Across the room, someone spills red wine over someone else's lap. Someone else holds their cigarette too close to their lover's sleeve. "You shouldn't live your life to please others. You mind the smoke, and you mind the talking. And yet-"

The boy laughs. The corners of his eyes wrinkle, the apples of his cheeks flush dark, and the blood on his lips spreads slow across his teeth.

"And yet", he says, "here I am."

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #tcon #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #tcon fanfic #tcon fanfiction #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #seasonal depression #smoking #susan flirting at a party #susan having a panic attack about english weather #she contains multitudes #the problem of susan #sort of #larissa makes things

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meadowziplines · 4 months ago

Note

Late night call prompt: “Are you alone?”

I love how ambiguous this one is

human au, qpr dream & jessamy hours! also ft. hurt/comfort and some blood

----

Dream cradled the phone to his ear, trying to slow his frantic breathing so he could hear Jessamy's voice at all. His head throbbed, and for a few seconds when the sun caught his eyes he swayed, nearly falling into the brickwork of the building behind him.

"Are you alone now, you think?"

"I think, but I don't - it's not safe -" His breathing picked up again, causing his surroundings to blur and spin slightly. "I don't -"

"Dream, what do you see around you? I've got your phone location, I'm coming."

He couldn't even tease her about being a technogeek to his computer illiteracy. "I..." He swung his gaze around, taking in the objects in sharper definition. "Umm... a brick building? A... warehouse. I think. I don't..."

He'd lost the group of young men somewhere a block ago maybe, he wasn't sure and he was afraid. Something warm ran down his face that Dream hadn't noticed before. His fingers came away scarlet. "I think I'm bleeding," he said weakly. "I don't..."

He didn't know how he'd gotten here, or how his head came to bleed. Dream thought he must have run, but he didn't remember.

Jessamy knelt over him, and his eyes wandered up her platform boots to her jet black hair framing a curtain around her face, kohl-lined eyes worried.

He sat against a building on the sidewalk. "Jessy?" Dream said. "What're you doing here?" His phone rested in his hand, and something dark red and sticky covered the buttons. "How did I get here? I thought we were meeting at... at..."

"There was a change of plans," Jessamy said after a beat, wryly. "I'm glad you're safe. Now I'm taking you to A&E."

His head hurt, and he blinked up at his best friend. "Why can't I remember?"

"Concussion," Jessamy concluded, and leaned over, hauling him upright slowly.

Dream didn't remember much of the A&E, only the blur of lights and sound and whirring machines, Jessamy's soothing voice. He woke up in their queen sized bed where they regularly befuddled others by companionably sleeping together without having sex. Jessamy sat reading one of the trashy gothic romance novels they both liked and smiled at him when he stirred.

"How'd I get here?"

"I carried you, of course," said Jessamy, and Dream would have rolled his eyes if it hadn't hurt. "Don't give me that look, you love it when I can sweep you around like a damsel in distress."

It was true. Jessamy was much stronger than he was, something both he and her partner Lucienne marveled at (for only slightly different reasons.)

"Thank you, my knight," Dream said, wincing when he tried to sit up.

"Your knight will be bringing you the paracetamol shortly," Jessamy said fondly, brushing a hand over his hair.

#ask #rhosyn-du #jessamy the raven #dream of the endless #morpheus #the sandman #the sandman (netflix)#meadow writes #my fic

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thgfanfictionlibrary · 3 months ago

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Mature Rated Fics Masterlist (54)

Part 1 - Part 48 / Part 49 / Part 50 / Part 51 / Part 52 / Part 53 /

Created: March 27th, 2024

Last Checked:------

Something Inside-flythroughflames (ff) Summary: Canon compliant. Katniss won't ever forget Peeta's birthday. Something More-Xerxia (ao3) Summary: A modern AU riff on 'growing together'. What happens when the person with whom you share your life is different from the one who shares your bed? Everlark. Songbird-HGRomance (ao3) Summary: I was a smoky-eyed guitarist, dipped in kohl and tattooed. He was a preppy daddy with a dandelion for a kid. And he had to be ten years older than me. Modern AU. One-shot. Soulmates-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: In The New Republic of Panem, your soul mark will pair you with your mate. What happens when the person you want has a mark that doesn't match? Strangers-HGRomance (ao3) Summary: A rich boy and a homeless girl. A magical summer carnival. And only one night to be together. One-shot. Modern AU. Inspired by the film, Before Sunrise. Stretched Threadbare-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Prompt 3: One walks in on the other in a “compromising” position (could be completely innocent and seem like it’s not at first). Peeta can’t understand his girlfriend’s distance until he catches her under another man. Katniss says it’s not what it looks like, but is she telling the truth? Strong Enough to Bend-Xerxia (ao3) Summary: Bent, but not broken; when their relationship falls apart, can they put things back together? Taking in Water-flythroughflames (ff) Summary: In-Panem AU. "His work is back-breaking, his circumstances hellish at times, but he's lucky. He's alive and he has Katniss with him. He knows it could be so much worse." Thanks, Covid-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: A pandemic changes everything except how much Peeta and Katniss want to get married. The Family Plan-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Beatrice Everdeen-Carter and Ramona Mellark, two friends with one mission–to get their parents together.

#m #mature masterlist #masterlist #thg #thg fanfiction #everlark fanfiction #everlark

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simply-ivanka · 4 months ago

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At Wendy's recently I heard a guy ask for his senior discount. The girl at the register apologized and charged him less. When I asked the man what the discount was, he told me that seniors over age 55 ...get 10% off everything on the menu, every day. (But you need to ASK for your discount.)

This incident prompted me to do some research, and I came across a list of restaurants, supermarkets, department stores, travel deals and other types of offers giving various discounts with different age requirements. I was actually surprised to see how many there are and how some of them start as young as 50. The list is evolving and many chains are independently operated so discounts may vary at participating locations only.

This list may not only be useful for you, but also friends and family, too.

Dunkin Donuts gives FREE coffee to people over 55. If you're paying for a cup every day, you might want to start getting it FREE. (At participating stores only)

YOU must ASK for your discount!

RESTAURANTS:

Applebee's: 15% off w/Golden Apple Card (60+)

Arby's: 10% off (55 +)

Ben & Jerry's: 10% off (60+)

Bob's Big Boy: discount varies by location (60+)

Boston Market: 10% off (65+)

Burger King: 10% off (60+)

Chick-Fil-A: 10% off or free small drink or coffee ( 55+) At participating locations

Chili's: 10% off ( 55+)

CiCi's Pizza: 10% off (60+)

Denny's: 10% off, 20% off for AARP members ( 55 +)

Dunkin' Donuts: 10% off or free coffee ( 55+)

Einstein's Bagels: 10% off baker's dozen of bagels (60+)

Fuddrucker's: 10% off any senior platter (55+)

Gatti's Pizza: 10% off (60+)

Golden Corral: 10% off (60+)

Hardee's: $0.33 beverages everyday (65+)

IHOP: 10% off (55+)

Jack in the Box: up to 20% off (55+)

KFC: free small drink with any meal (55+)

Krispy Kreme: 10% off (50+)

Long John Silver's: various discounts at locations (55+)

McDonald's: discounts on coffee everyday (55+)

Mrs. Fields: 10% off at participating locations (60+)

Shoney's: 10% off

Sonic: 10% off or free beverage (60+)

Steak 'n Shake: 10% off every Monday & Tuesday ( 50+)

Subway: 10% off (60+)

Sweet Tomatoes: 10% off (62+)

Taco Bell : 5% off; free beverages for seniors (65+)

TCBY: 10% off (55+)

Tea Room Cafe: 10% off (50+)

Village Inn: 10% off (60+)

Waffle House: 10% off every Monday (60+)

Wendy's: 10% off ( 55 +)

Whataburger: 10% off (62+)

White Castle: 10% off (62+)

RETAIL & APPAREL :

Banana Republic: 30% off ( 50 +)

Bealls: 20% off first Tuesday of each month ( 50 +)

Belk's: 15% off first Tuesday of every month ( 55 +)

Big Lots: 30% off

Bon-Ton Department Stores: 15% off on senior discount days ( 55 +)

C.J. Banks: 10% off every Wednesday (50+)

Clarks : 10% off (62+)

Dress Barn: 20% off ( 55+)

Goodwill: 10% off one day a week (date varies by location)

Hallmark: 10% off one day a week (date varies by location)

Kmart: 40% off (Wednesdays only) (50+)

Kohl's: 15% off (60+)

Michael's: 10% off everyday (55+)

Modell's Sporting Goods: 30% off

Rite Aid: 10% off on Tuesdays & 10% off prescriptions

Ross Stores: 10% off every Tuesday ( 55+)

Salvation Army Thrift Stores: up to 50% off ( 55+)

Stein Mart: 20% off red dot/clearance items first Monday of every month ( 55 +)

GROCERY :

Albertson's: 10% off first Wednesday of each month ( 55 +)

American Discount Stores: 10% off every Monday ( 50 +)

Compare Foods Supermarket: 10% off every Wednesday (60+)

DeCicco Family Markets: 5% off every Wednesday (60+)

Fry's Supermarket: free Fry's VIP Club Membership & 10% off every Monday (55 +)

Great Valu Food Store: 5% off every Tuesday (60+)

Gristedes Supermarket: 10% off every Tuesday (60+)

Harris Teeter: 5% off every Tuesday (60+)

Hy-Vee: 5% off one day a week (date varies by location)

Kroger: 5% off (date varies by location)

Morton Williams Supermarket: 5% off every Tuesday (60+)

The Plant Shed: 10% off every Tuesday (50 +)

Publix: 5% off every Wednesday (55 +)

Rogers Marketplace: 5% off every Thursday (60+)

Uncle Guiseppe's Marketplace: 15% off (62+)

TRAVEL :

Airlines:

Alaska Airlines: up to 50% off (65+)

American Airlines: various discounts up to 50% off non-peak periods (Tuesdays - Thursdays) (62+)and up (call before booking for discount)

Continental Airlines: no initiation fee for Continental Presidents Club & special fares for select destinations

Southwest Airlines: various discounts for ages 65 and up (call before booking for discount)

United Airlines: various discounts for ages 65 and up (call before booking for discount)

Rail:

Amtrak: 10% off (62+)

Bus:

Greyhound: 5% off (62+)

Trailways Transportation System: various discounts for ages 50+

Car Rental:

Alamo Car Rental: up to 25% off for AARP members

Avis: up to 25% off for AARP members

Budget Rental Cars: 40% off; up to 50% off for AARP members (50+)

Dollar Rent-A-Car: 10% off ( 50+) Enterprise Rent-A-Car: 5% off for AARP members Hertz: up to 25% off for AARP members

National Rent-A-Car: up to 30% off for AARP members

Overnight Accommodations:

Holiday Inn: 20-40% off depending on location (62+)

Best Western: 15% off (55+)

Cambria Suites: 20%-30% off (60+)

Waldorf Astoria - NYC $5,000 off nightly rate for Presidential Suite (55 +)

Clarion Motels: 20%-30% off (60+)

Comfort Inn: 20%-30% off (60+)

Comfort Suites: 20%-30% off (60+)

Econo Lodge: up to 40% off (60+)

Hampton Inns & Suites: 40% off when booked 72 hours in advance

Hyatt Hotels: 25%-50% off (62+)

InterContinental Hotels Group: various discounts at all hotels (65+)

Mainstay Suites: 10% off with Mature Traveler's Discount (50+); 20%-30% off (60+)

Marriott Hotels: 25% off (62+)

Motel 6: 5% off (60+)

Myrtle Beach Resort: 30% off (55 +)

Quality Inn: 40%-50% off (60+)

Rodeway Inn: 20%-30% off (60+)

Sleep Inn: 40% off (60+)

ACTIVITIES & ENTERTAINMENT ;:

AMC Theaters: up to 30% off ( 55 +)

Bally Total Fitness: $100 off memberships (62+)

Busch Gardens Tampa, FL: $13 off one-day tickets ( 50 +)

Carmike Cinemas: 35% off (65+)

Cinemark/Century Theaters: up to 35% off

Massage Envy - NYC 20% off all "Happy Endings" (62 +)

U.S. National Parks: $80 lifetime pass; 50% off additional services including camping (62+)

Regal Cinemas: 50% off Ripley's Believe it or Not: @ off one-day ticket ( 55 +)

SeaWorld, Orlando , FL : $3 off one-day tickets ( 50 +)

CELL PHONE DISCOUNTS :

AT&T: Special Senior Nation 200 Plan $19.99/month (65+)

Jitterbug: $19/month cell phone service ( 50 +)

Verizon Wireless: Verizon Nationwide 65 Plus Plan $29.99/month (65+).

MISCELLANEOUS:

Great Clips: $8 off hair cuts (60+)

Supercuts: $8 off haircuts (60+)

ARMSTRONG NUSERY 10% off daily 🌺

NOW, go out there and claim your discounts!! Remember YOU must ASK for discount - no ask, no discount.

I Know everyone knows someone over 50 please pass this on!!!

#repost #americans first #america first

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onboardsorasora · 10 months ago

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Honestly, I think my favourite thing is looking through writing prompts. I loved this one

You are getting desperate. You have already tried everything and your husband still thinks you are just a really dedicated cosplayer, not a fairy.

Daniel sighed gustily as he walked outside with his coffee mug and took in what looked like another lack of offering on the brand new altar. He’d hoped that by creating a dedicated space that was clearly altar-like and inviting, that Max would have gotten the hint by now.

He pouted, of course he’d have to go fall in love with the one human who didn’t believe in fairies. It had been cute at first and what kept him coming back to the surface to see Max. To follow him around, keeping other creatures from encroaching on what was his. It was refreshing to not be feared and to be treated not like he could like wipe out a whole bloodline or whatever. But the longer they were together, Daniel was realizing that Max thought this was all a joke. A fantasy.

He hadn’t realized what a big deal it had been when Daniel had finally told him his name. Max had offered his up within the first minute of them ‘officially’ meeting. It wasn’t until after they were living together that things started to become clear.

‘Oh Daniel, I didn’t even hear when you got up early this morning. Do you reapply your make up daily? What do you look like without it?’

‘It’s not makeup Maxy, this is what I look like?’ Daniel glanced dubiously in the mirror at his kohl eye markings and the runes and hieroglyphs that marked up his arms like tattoos. His ears were pointed for forest’s sake and his skin absorbed the sun.

‘Oh, well I accept your choices. It is of course your body.’ Max had left it at that and Daniel had been confused.

Daniel had begun to wonder if Max knew charms and spells because what other reason would there be for a fairy to willingly leave everything they knew to live above ground with a human who refused to even do the most basic things. Max broke fairy rings so often that Daniel just stopped making them on the property.

‘Daniel, why are there all these flower circles in the garden. They are beautiful but a bit much I think.’

‘Maxy, what? They’re fairy rings. They're here because I’m here– so I can visit home easier.’ Daniel was confused. Max looked confused for a second before his face smoothed out into one of understanding. Daniel had started to fear that look.

‘I do suppose they are pretty to look at when you are on the phone with your mother.’

And after that devastation, Max had left it alone.

Daniel glared at the marble altar, he’d thought it was so beautiful. Imagined how lovely it would have been to get offerings on it– how happy it would have made him. But Max had nipped that in the bud.

‘You want me to buy you gifts and place them out there instead of just giving them to you?’ Max had looked at him like it was the dumbest thing Daniel had ever told him. And Daniel had said some stupid shit before.

‘I– when you say it like that…” Daniel whispered. ‘You’re right– it's silly. Never mind Maxy.’

That had been over a week ago and Daniel had already called for its removal. Maybe they could use the foundation to build a bar or something. Maybe Max would appreciate that.

He turned, ready to head through the garden gate so he could wander his territory when a glint caught his eye from the altar. Whatever it was, wasn’t there before because Daniel usually inspected the slab of marble keenly.

Curiously, he stepped closer. Daniel felt his eyes prickle even as his mouth dropped open in surprise. There in the offertory divot was a small package of sweets, the silver wrapping was what had caught his attention. Daniel touched it reverently, his tattooed hand trembling.

He hadn’t gotten an offering in so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like. How the rush of energy felt like a power up. He smiled a wet smile and majiked the candy away.

“Bwoah– where did it go?” Max’s voice was so close that Daniel jumped in surprise. He’d been so focused on his offering he hadn’t noticed his boyfriend's presence. Max was looking at him in abject shock, like he’d never seen him before now.

“I–oh! Below.” Daniel said simply, his runes glowed in the sun before going back to their regular state. “Thank you Maxy.” Daniel said, completely heartfelt. He leaned in and kissed his boyfriend before walking away with more than a pep in his step.

Max watched him go– frozen to the spot. He looked between the altar and Daniel a few times before running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that explains a few things.” He mumbled.

#sksks I hope you like it. I think its silly and cute #max/daniel #maxiel #fairy!Daniel #my fic #ficlet

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gerec · 2 months ago

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Can you combine: Cherik, breeding, age difference, and historical fantasy setting for the link meme this month?

Anon, as you didn't specify - and I received mostly bottom!Charles prompts - I decided to write something I don't usually write which is bottom!Erik and age difference with older Charles/younger Erik. Also, this is a/o, and the breeding is only hinted at (though there is definitely sex involved)...

The King's Ward

Pairing(s): Charles/Erik, Shaw/Erik mentioned Chapter Warnings: implied past noncon (between Shaw/Erik), dubcon, age difference, alpha/omega

The boy was dressed in a simple purple robe, the material fine but hardly befitting for one of his station. His body was bare of jewelry - customary for an omega of any noble house – though he’d been bathed and perfumed, his lips reddened and his eyes ringed with kohl. He was very young, perhaps fifteen or sixteen Charles guessed, though his haunting gaze spoke to a much older soul. Erik was every bit as breathtaking as Shaw had promised, when he had forced Charles to accept the honor of taking the boy as his concubine.

(That he yet grieved his wife only three months gone hardly mattered, as Shaw insisted that House Xavier should have someone new to bear a replacement for the heir recently lost.)

It did not stem the torrent of emotions raging inside Charles, seeing this beautiful creature in his home, ripe and ready for the taking. His heart was still broken over the loss of Gabi and their unnamed child – a son who outlived his mother by less than an hour’s grace. And now he was expected to welcome another into his life and in his bed, burying his sorrow and pain for one whose loyalties and intentions could not be trusted.

For all he knew, Shaw had sent him a spy, to ferret out the source of a brewing rebellion.

“My Lord,” the boy said, rising from his seat by the window and offering a slight bow. He was tall – taller than Charles – but thin and coltish, with a slim waist that accentuated wide, child-bearing hips. His robes shifted to reveal creamy flesh at his collar, and Charles hated how his body instantly responded, his cock hardening at the sight and scent of this boy more than twenty years his junior. It made him angry – at Shaw, at himself, and even Erik – for this impossible situation, and blunted in him the inclination to treat the boy with the reverence and consideration due a new mate.

“How old are you?”

Erik lifted his steel-grey eyes and answered, “Sixteen as of last week.”

Read the rest on AO3

#gerec writes #cherik #kinktober 2024 #age difference #historical fantasy au #mind the tags #bottom Erik #older Charles #younger Erik

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carminavulcana · 6 months ago

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The Man In The Mirror

Written for the prompt 'Varadha X Mirror'

There was something almost otherworldly about the last prahara of the night in Khansaar. The beginnings of dawn peeked through the folds of the crumpling fabric of the night. The world’s unease tossed and turned as if in the throes of a nightmare. But the first light in the distant horizon was a silent beckoning to awakening. The nightmare must always end. The motions of living must always begin.

Varadha never needed an alarm clock to wake up. The rays of the sun streamed in through his windows to greet him with a cool, comforting warmth each morning. It was the one thing that was constant about Khansaar. It was also the only thing about Khansaar that he enjoyed rather than endured.

As the day progressed, the light slowly turned into a flare of fire, raining hell upon the land. And yet, the tribes of Khansaar fought over it, bled for it, and turned on their own for the perverse pleasure of gashing the land into as many bloodied strips as they could.

Their prize? The pride of one of their own.

Varadha took his time getting dressed each morning. He didn’t like wearing colors other than black. There was a certain degree of security in the opaque coldness of the dark end of the spectrum of hues. And Varadha, his own master, his own protector, and for all practical purposes, his own salaar, needed the oppressive, heat-absorbing black to fortify his defences— to guard himself from those around him who sought his destruction and those who still wanted to tear his heart open and check if it indeed pumped only venom as they suspected it did. How would it be then, he mused, that if they were to someday open his heart, they would find inside it a mausoleum— the place where he had buried Deva, despite the promise he made even as he left the land of his birth forever

Mausoleums were rarely to be visited. They weren’t good for one’s mental health. Pity, Varadha didn’t have the luxury of choice. But still, he was grateful for the mercy of not having to see it. His skin and sinew took care of that.

As he faced the mirror to get dressed for the day, his mind retreated to a blank space; which was just as well, because there was little else to think about but the carnage that had ripped apart Pathran. And with it, a significant chunk of Varadha’s faith in himself.

He tightened the belt around his waist before pulling over the kurta. Routine though the process was, he was meticulous about it each day. For never would he take the dignity of his appearance for granted. He combed his hair back. He applied the kohl to the undersides of his lower eyelids. He wore his shoes, first the left one, followed by the right one.

At last, he opened his drawer for the most precious part of this daily ritual. The nose ring. That coveted symbol of his lineage and royal birth that Rudra so desperately wanted to take from him.

To Varadha, though, it was so much more.

He didn’t lack Mannar pride. He didn’t lack the fire that coursed through the veins of all Khansaari warriors. He didn’t lack the thirst for power.

But he lacked the cruelty of the men who called the shots.

And how could he not? His earliest memories were of camaraderie beyond the bonds of kinship. His first lessons in human nature had been of unconditional love, unflinching loyalty, and unparalleled bravery in the face of unsurmountable odds.

His first brush with himself had been knowing that Deva would come to define him in life and in death.

With trembling hands, Varadha looked himself in the eye and adorned his septum with the precious silver ornament, its weight familiar and reassuring.

Without it, he felt incomplete, lesser somehow.

But his reason was not the same as Rudra’s.

Outwardly, this septum ring was what marked him as his father’s son. But his soul knew that in reality, it marked him as the chosen of Deva’s devotion.

The mirror only affirmed what he knew. But seeing it all the same was Varadha’s way of drawing strength from his slowly diminishing well of will.

Today, however, he would prevail.

Tomorrow would be another day.

If you enjoyed this story, please do let me know what you thought of it! Thank You!

#salaar #Salaar fanfic #Varadeva

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ellie-24 · 2 years ago

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That's alright

A little something based on this prompt:

"Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people."

Word count: 2.6 k

Thanks @whositmcwhatsit for the amazing idea and thanks @thatbanditqueen for the first awesome prompt!!! It was really fun writing this!! Ofc it had to be about Elvis, I can't help myself lol. I'm extited to see what y'all came up with!

@be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love

Shreveport, October 16 1954

She took a shuddering breath and smoothed down the wrinkles in her dress when she saw the familiar auditorium from across the street. Her fingers trembled when she reached up to pin back a single blonde curl that had espaced her fancy updo. It had come loose on the walk here, though it can hardly be described as a walk. It was more like a run and she was in fact a bit out of breath as she stood on the sidewalk, trying to gather her wits again. Next to her was a big glass window and she turned towards it, inspecting herself. The pastel pink sunday dress she wore under her white coat was the prettiest she owned and combined with the now fixed updo her mother had helped her with, she felt truly beautiful. With a look of concentration on her usually very soft features she leaned forward and carefully pinched her cheeks and lips. Proper rouge and lipstick weren't allowed in the house, so this would have to do for now. Her best friend at school proposed to lend her some of the makeup she secretly owned, but she wasn't as bold as her. No, she wouldn't do such a vulgar thing.

She pulled her coat tighter over her body, the fresh autumn wind making her shiver. But the funny feeling in her stomach certainly wasn't caused by the dropping temperatures. Her mind drifted to the boy from school. The boy with the brown eyes she had fancied for a very long time now. The funny feeling in her stomach got more intense as she remembered how he asked her earlier this week if she would accompany him to the Hayride. Stunned wasn't enough to describe what she felt in that moment. Snippets of the conversation remain, like when she hastily agreed and ran away, but the rest was a blur. He wanted to meet her in front of the auditorium, but she couldn't spot him among the crowd that had already gathered at the entrance. She looked down at the delicate gold watch around her wrist. She was almost half an hour early. She huffed a breath, her nerves threatening to get the better of her and she decided to walk around the building, eager to get rid of some of this nervous energy as well as some silence.

As she rounded the building to escape the loud chatter of the people in the crowd she eventually reached a door that was certainly the back entrance to the auditorium. She bit her lip and looked around, no one else was to be seen. Pacing around didn't help much either, the clicking of her low heels on the pavement suddenly too loud in her ears. She eyed the stairs at the entrance and walked up to them. She reached down to feel if they were dry and promptly sat down, her knee jiggling up and down. Just when she considered getting up and pacing around again the door behind her openened and a very strange looking young man stormed out, descending the stairs so fast that she quickly scooted over and winced, afraid he'd either run her over or fall onto her.

"Oh, excuse me! Almost didn't see you there." he exclaimed when he passed her, now standing in front of her. His voice had a nice ring to it and it felt almost familiar.

She squinted up to him, taking in his very peculiar appearance, too stunned to answer. His greased back hair was the darkest raven black she's ever seen. One single curl rested between his furrowed eyebows and she fought the urge to reach out and put it back in it's place. He slowly blinked at her with deep set, ocean blue eyes, his dark and long eyelashes fluttering over his cheek. Upon closer inspection she noticed that he must be wearing kohl, making his eyes even more expressive. The pink suit he wore was a stark contrast, almost matching her own dress and she was sure she's never seen someone like him before. It was strangely appealing.

She shook her head and finally managed to get herself together again. "Oh, that's alright. I don't know what I'm doing sitting on the stairs." she muttered, a flustered laugh escaping her. She leaned forward to get up, but he stopped her.

"Nah, you're good. Actually, do you mind?" he gestured to the spot next to her with a trembling hand. "I-I came here to get away from o-other people." His eyes nervously flickered towards the door he just stormed out of.

She hesitantly nodded at him and he plopped down beside her. "That's something we have in common." she remarked with a sigh.

He turned to her and smiled, his lip curling charmingly. "That so?"

She looked down with a half smile and picked at her nails, his gaze making her even more nervous.

"Where'd you even come from?" she asked and turned her head, gesturing behind her.

"Uh.. you know, I'm a singer. Or, I try to at least. Got a gig here tonight. E-Everybody is going crazy in there, so I needed to get some air."

"Really? You aren't pulling my leg now are you?"

"I wish I were, sweetie. It's really a big thing." he said and nervously combed back some of his hair with his hand, reminding her of her own self barely five minutes earlier in that glass window. She carefully eyed him, not sure if he wanted her to reassure him or distract him.

"You must be exited!" she offered with a smile.

"I sure am." he agreed and his knee started to bounce up and down as well, matching hers. He rubbed his palm along his thigh, trying to force it to be still.

She leaned back, wanting to appear casual. "Standing there on that stage all by yourself. You're very brave."

He huffed a laugh. "Thank god I'm not alone, sweetie. I'm with my band." he nodded, as if reassuring himself.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "A band, I'm impressed. Do I know anything from you?" she encouraged.

"Uh I don't know... What's up with you? You a singer as well? You look like it." he inquired, quickly changing the topic of the conversation.

"Good god, no. I'm uh... hiding." she muttered timidly, her face scrunching up in embarassment.

"What's a pretty gal like you hiding from?" he smirked, his finger gently brushing over her cheek.

His boldness shocked her, but drew her in at the same time. "Oh, nothing really. It's silly." she waved away.

"You can tell me anything, sweetie. I'm dying to know." he insisted and leaned forward, way closer than it was proper. She spotted a few acne scars on his face and neck, but she found they didn't affect her impression that he was breathtakingly beautiful.

She took a deep breath. "I just... I'm meeting up with this boy from school here. Uhm, you probably don't care about this."

"This your first real date, sweetie?" he assumed while raising one eyebrow.

"...Yes." she admitted.

His lip curled again and she felt her heart rate pick up. "You don't hafta worry about nothing. That guy is one lucky fella."

She looked down, inspecting her nails again. "I'm just scared that I don't know what to do. I don't want to make a fool out of myself."

"How old are you?" he inquired suddenly.

"Sixteen."

"Cute."

"You?"

"Nineteen."

She nodded. "Mhm.. so uhm... you do that often? Dating I mean." she tried to as sound nonchalant as possible and carefully avoided his gaze.

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Why do you wanna know?"

"Do you... you know..." she trailed off, not daring to say it out loud.

"Have you ever been kissed, sweetie?" he asked, searching her eyes.

She slowly shook her head.

He licked his lips, the motion making her swallow hard, before giving her a stern look. "You know, the first kiss is something real special."

She nodded and waited for him to continue.

"I remember my first kiss, it was clumsy and I didn't really know what to do. Made me feel like an idiot." he mused, carefully watching her reaction from the corner of his eye.

She nibbled at her bottom lip, unaware of his unwavering gaze. He seemed to know what he was talking about. Seemed more... experienced. And she did catch herself wondering if his lips would feel as soft and plush as they looked.

"Could you... I mean would you... uh that's sounds mad, but would you show me?" She was aware that she didn't know him and probably would never see him again, but it was exactly that that made it feel right. The adrenaline and exitement she felt right now was different, it would be her secret, shared with this handsome stranger. No one would have to know, she wouldn't even tell her best friend.

"What do you want me to show you, sweetie?" he frowned and she wasn't sure if he was actually confused or just a really good actor.

"You know... how to... kiss someone." she managed to get out, her cheeks flushed.

"You want me to show you?"

"Only if you want to of course." she mumbled, getting the impression that he didn't want to kiss her. Did he maybe think she was crazy?

"No, no, sweetie. I-I'd like that. But are ya really sure?"

She felt her heartbeat pick up once more. "I am."

He grinned and snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She couldn't stop the little gasp that escaped her when she felt his strong hands pressing into her flesh and looked up, their noses now almost touching.

"Don't be scared, little one." he spoke in a soft tone.

"I'm not." she merely whispered, not trusting her own voice right now.

"I'll be gentle with ya. Just close your eyes."

She tried to control the butterflies she felt in her stomach, tried to ignore the tremor in her whole body and tried to remember how to actually breathe. She eventually closed her eyes and waited, not daring to move one inch. He came closer, she could feel his hot breath ghosting along her lips and squeezed her eyes shut.

Finally his velvety mouth brushed over hers and for a moment she was too stunned to respond. She briefly tought about the boy from school and asked herself if his lips would be as soft as the ones from the raven haired stranger next to her. There was no denying that it felt good to be that close to him and after a few seconds, her cheeks burning, she started to kiss him back by tentitavely moving her lips against his. She felt him smiling against her and added more pressure. All of the sudden she felt a bit dizzy, not in the way she felt when she went on a carousel, but in a different, forbidden way. She didn't recall ever feeling something like this, something so consuming and dare she say... addicting. After what felt like hours, or seconds, she wasn't quite sure, she pulled away from his mouth. There was a tightness in her chest and after being parted from him her mind started functioning again, telling her to breathe. She took a deep breath and looked into his twinkling eyes, his grin almost looking a bit smug. For a moment they just stared at each other until he broke the silence.

"Lordy, that was beautiful, sweetie." he murmured and pressed his forehead against hers.

"You really think so?" she smiled, a bit dazed still.

He bit his lip and smirked at her. "Yeah. Ya got the cutest, softest little lips ever." It felt flattering to hear this from him. He obviously knew what he was doing and she looked down with a bashful smile, suddenly feeling very special.

"...B-But there's something else I'd like to show you i-if you want." he stuttered, his eyes almost pleading. How could she say no?

"S-sure."

He closed the gap between them again so fast she almost had no time to react. When she kissed him back, a bit more confident this time he did something she didn't expect. All of the sudden she felt his soft tongue prodding against her closed mouth and her eyes shot open, not really sure if it was supposed to be like that or not. But he didn't stop, in fact he got more insistant and soon she felt his tongue gliding past her lips into her mouth. He made a little sound in the back of his throat when she slowly touched the tip of his tongue with hers and tightened his grip on her waist, holding onto her like a lifeline. Despite still not really knowing what she was doing he seemed to like it. A lot. He continued exploring her mouth, his kissing becoming faster and more sloppier, teeth clanking and muffled breathing. When they broke apart again it was his turn to look a bit dazed, his eyes half lidded, his breathing heavy.

"...That felt really... good. I won't ever forget this." she whispered with a wide grin.

Elvis suddenly felt exhilerated and brave enough to go on stage, his nervousness now replaced with another feeling. For the one thing on his mind now was this pretty girl thinking of him whenever she kissed another. She was his now, wether she was yet aware of it or not. He pulled her even closer to him. "Me neither, little. You're really something." he stated softly with a tender kiss to her cheek, entirely different from the one they'd just shared. It was sweet, gentle and she felt her heart flutter wildly in her ribcage in response.

"...I should get going." she whispered suddenly and moved away from him, making him shudder.

"D-Do you have to?" he asked with big eyes as he fiddled around with his hands.

"Yes!" she laughed. "And you should go back as well. We both have places to be." She thought back to those brown eyes probably waiting for her by now. She also wondered if they could pierce like the intense blue ones observing her right now.

He hummed with a little pout.

"... And if you're really a singer, I suppose we'll see each other in a few minutes anyway."

"You'll see me, sweetie. I won't see you." he argued, looking at her through his dark lashes.

She sighed and squeezed his hand with an encouraging smile. "I suppose that's true... I really wish you good luck though. I'll certainly cheer you on."

How he wanted to wish her good luck as well with her endeavour. But he couldn't. He didn't wish her good luck. Not really. "I'll count on you, sweetie." he managed to get out, thankfully she didn't notice that his teeth were clenched.

She smiled and jumped up from the stairs in a very unladylike manner, the motion causing that infuriating curl to come undone again from her updo. She huffed in annoyance and reached up with a grimace, attempting to pin it back in place blindly.

He couldn't stop the little smile forming at her antics. "Sweetie, leave it like that. It looks so pretty on ya." he then suddenly interjected after watching her for a few seconds, making her stop in her tracks.

She blinked at him. "...Are you sure? It doesn't look rude?" she asked without thinking, suddenly worried she might have offended him as she eyed the single lock that had come loose from his perfect pompadour. He never fixed it.

He shook his head, decidedly. "Nah, fits you more like this, little one. You're a real stunner, I'll tell ya."

She felt her cheeks warming up again. "Oh well, okay, if you say so. Thank you so much!" she grinned and turned on her heel making her way back towards the main entrance to meet her date.

"That's alright!" he shouted after her with a smile. That's where it suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. Why his voice seemed familiar. It was the same voice she heard again and again on the radio for the last few weeks.

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