#still worth watchin

[deckardsdwelling]

[1923 - 1x3 - “The War Has Come Home”]

— WDD

[fawnning]

EAT MY HEART OUT WHEN NO ONE'S WATCHIN'!

turbo!okarun x ayase!reader, 2.3k. MDNI

song rec; house of cards, bts

explicitly implied that both reader and okarun are well over 18, supposed exorcism? no intro though, ropes used, uncomfortable positioning, okarun is his usual bleak self just much less, afab reader, not proofread.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, shit makes me sad." Okarun whispers behind you, his voice is groggy and intimate, it makes you wonder if this would ever die down after the first round of attempt. 

"What gives you the idea that I'm not?" You're so cocky and adamant it pisses even yourself off. 

"If you really needed my assistance, I woulda expected a thank you at least, y'know?" you start.

"I know, and I'm sorry, really, I am," He sounds so pent up you're sorry for him again. "It's just, I can't stop, 's like I don't even realize it."

"I've got an idea, it might not work, but it's well worth a try," You flip the switch on, the light is dim but it gives you a clear image on what you're working with now.

Somehow Okarun looks much worse, like he's been put through and denied for centuries, maybe.

"Granny mentioned something about warding off spirits with ropes internally,"

"This fucking sucks," He growls out of desperation. "Just gimme a sec, I'm sure it's somewhere in here." You grab at a thick wad of the rope that was scattered around the room, a few yards of red might do the trick.

"What are you even planning on doing? Looks dumb," He sounds dumbfounded as you bring him to his knees, cuffing both wrists, you decide to let him stay free to an extent by letting his hands rest in the front, you tie a knot secure enough it might just cut his blood circulation off.

"This looks.. awfully familiar," He stares from the sidelines of his view. "Too bad you're gonna have to put up with it," You wrap the rope around his neck, tight enough he's got room to breathe and bark around more.

"That should do the trick," You ponder at the years of helping Okarun maintain his composure, it's a stretch to say that he hasn't thanked you enough, but now seems like the best time to get a rise out of him, it's no risk either, when it's someone like Okarun, you've known him since he's donned what could be titled the worst haircut since the dawn of time.

"Y'know, Okarun, don't you ever feel an ounce of pity for me?" You start, it's obviously a joke but it overwhelms him, all those years of having been saved by you, vice versa.

"Of course I have, I mean, it might sound a lil' stupid but I've always wanted to show you how appreciative I am, sounds cheesy so I figured you'd hate it anyways." There's always a catch to his words, stringing depressingly, but it fits his character.

"Oh, not at all, Okarun, if I were you, I would've done something a whole lot long ago." You murmur and smile down at him, he looks so pretty on his knees you're praying this happens biweekly, any more and you'd end up paralyzed accordingly. 

"And what might you be talkin' about?" His cocky attitude flares up for each and every second you keep him waiting at the edge. 

"You know, all those times you've at least thought about me," You pine on, dragging him closer to the corner of the bed by the rope.

He crawls, he follows obediently and he doesn't ever seem to take his eyes off of you. 

 "I know how badly you need it," Now you're facing him, he still stares up into your eyes in desperation, you watch as his eyes darken to a deep shade of scarlet as he shys away. 

"Don't even think about it, sweetheart, He leans into your space. "Not like this, ain't ideal, ain't a good way to leave a nice impression," 

"Then what is? You know you've been leading me on for years on end," Cuffing his face, you trace along his sternum. 

"Such a pain in the ass," He croons into your neck, resting at your chest, "Lemme feel you," He brings both hands to unbutton your jeans, despite being restrained, he does it with ease. 

"Show me what I'm workin' with, will ya?" He eases right in between your thighs, like he fits right there. 

You question it for a second before he glides a finger through your wet heat without skipping a beat, "That's more like it," his brash manner isn't a deal breaker anymore, if anything, it adds on to the situation. 

"That's what being good gets you, but you haven't exactly been good, haven't you?" At this rate he doesn't want to continue playing dumb just to get into your pants, he breaks past the barrier, Okarun tosses the remnants of the rope to the floor, the part that's still wrapped around his neck remains intact, by control of your hands, your wish.

"Mind games until you made me resort to this, y'know I ain't that typa guy," He adds on. "One to have things my way, but you, you're a completely different case." 

"Always wanted to know what that sweet cunt feels like, too much f'me to handle, figured I'll make things easier for you."

"The rope too, how flattering," He grabs one end of the rope, traces it from your shoulder blades down to the flesh of your cunt. 

His fingers are squeamishly long and slender, watching it feel the mound while he continues to tease you. "Fuck," You whisper, your breath is hot, dense as the air as you watch Okarun continue to glide the rope around either sides of your thighs. 

"Hurry up, can't wait any longer," You whine. 

"What gives you the idea that I'm being patient? If we both had things our way, we'd be at the end of the bed right now, you'd be crying for more," He sketches a wide picture and you're eager to paint it complete for him. 

"You're mean," Your hands grasp for the bedsheets. "I can get worse," he binds your thighs complete, now you're unable to move your arms, your legs are free to roam but he's certain you'd never run away, he grants you the right to speak, wants to hear you scream his name, he says. 

"That good for you? Needed me to keep you bound from giving me what I want." His fingers ghost over your pussy, his fingers slip upwards from your sweet spot, then downwards, you groan over the way he mocks you. 

Just as you least expect it, he brings his fingers to your mouth, coats his fingers wet with your spit before sliding a finger through your slit. 

"So fucking wet," He murmurs, curling the digits where you feel it best. "all of this f'me? Too kind," He digresses, he could never do anything like this, but now it's different, he's been keeping you in check for too long. 

You mewl and toss around just as he brings his free hand to hold you down, he jostles you back in place, resting your thighs around his shoulders. "That's too much, please, Okarun, 's too much," you squeal, feeling yourself go numb for a little over a minute, your very core being played with past your orgasm. 

"Messy, too bad." Okarun hums, he's pleased with the girl he's always wanted to see. To become. If he can evolve into a tale of corruption then sure can you. 

"Okarun— Ken, Ken, 'm gonna cum again," you wail and it slips past your mind voice. Within a split second, he pulls back, the fucking audacity. 

Ken.

Lot's of new firsts tonight, this one defied all odds in his mind. 

It's a lingering thought but you wonder if this is even his first time, you dared not to question it at the start out of what could've been labelled as fear. 

"Say that again," 

"Ken," 

"Fuck." 

He lines his swollen tip over your nub, teasing you where it hurts the most before bottoming out inside you. 

You angle your head to face him, watching as he attempts to ease his cock into you. It's big, there's no way it would fit. He notices as you slowly push away. 

"Hey, no sweat, just the tip, how's that for ya?" He soothes, you hum keenly in response. 

"That feel good?" He whispers. 

"Uh huh, feels too good," You nod and babble, eyes shut, head tilted back, the whole nine yards. 

"I got another thing I wanna try," He interrupts, pulling the tip of his cock to feel your mound, he pushes it slightly down and you watch as it shifts in size for each thrust Okarun gives. 

You feel Okarun as he picks up his pace, followed by you garnering what little energy you've got left to spare. 

"Fuck, can't—" He pulls out in a flash, his eyes are half lidded as he watches his cum sputter onto your lower abdomen.

Now he's slightly embarrassed and his movements are ever-so-slightly rigid, a wave of regret and satisfaction washes over him.

"Again, I'm sorry for that, but I gave you a forewarning," He settles by you in bed.

"Anytime," You retort languidly, undoing the rope around Okarun's wrists. 

"Plus, I still owe you one," It's odd, but as friends, you two are bound to retain an even tally of orgasms. 

"Don't put it like that, dude," He groans.

"You're right though, maybe not now." He murmurs, burying his face by your neck, he hums before drifting off. 

[koolades-world]

being sick sucked. the only good part about being sick in the devildom was not being able to infect anyone other than solomon, and the extended breaks you got after you came down with something.

one of the many privileges you were given was full control the the tv in the living room. you'd been sick a couple times while in the devildom at this point, so the brothers had already had their major freakouts over minor things. you were in the ideal stage of being sick right now: the brothers were still unsure enough to know if you were exaggerating your symptoms (to get what you wanted, of course!) but sure enough to know you're not about to keel over and die.

it was a saturday, and everyone was home. you didn't go to rad the past few days because you came down with something solomon had contracted while off in the depths of the devildom. nobody really knew what it was, but the most notable symptom was that your sweat now sparkled. it was only a little alarming to lucifer and barbatos, but since they couldn't figure out what the hell solomon had given you, they deemed rest to be the most appropriate solution. however, to you, this was the only sign you needed to put on the twilight saga.

at first, only asmo seemed interested in actually watching it with you. he'd somehow never seen it, so you quickly put it on. asmo was bundled in one of the many blankets that surrounded you at all times, while you sat in the middle of the nest, sweating- half because you were constantly overheating, and half because you were watching twilight.

mammon passed by the living room several times while completing tasks around the house, and made comments about the movie every single time. it was "this movie is stupid" and "yer seriously still watchin' this?" at first. then, it morphed into him lingering just behind the couch you were seated on, holding something he was in the middle of polishing. when you'd turn back to look at him, he'd pretend he wasn't paying attention whatsoever. when you finally invited him to join after catching him staring for the fifth time, and patted the seat besides you, he objected quickly, claiming "ya can keep yer vampire slop."

he returned in five minutes.

when beel got home from his workout, he tried to join you right away. asmo made him go take a shower first, which you felt hypocritical agreeing with. your oddly sparkly sweat stained whatever fabric it came into contact with. once the sweat evaporated, the sparkles were the only thing left behind.

once jasper came onto screen, mammon made a comment about his stare reminded him of lucifer's. you and asmo burst out laughing harder than you'd laughed in a long time. unfortunately for mammon, lucifer happened to be walking by at that very moment. you managed to talk lucifer out of punishing mammon when you claimed he was helping you out as your emotional support demon. sweating sparkles for an unknown reason was stressful work, after all.

satan walked by with a thick book, and promptly paused once he saw what you were watching. he'd read, and loved the books. he shoved mammon aside to sit next to you, so the two of you could excitedly chatter about the movie and book differences.

once the part where edward sparkled in the middle of the forest came on screen, you dramatically reenacted it in the middle of your living room, while getting beel to hold a flashlight over your head. you had the entire living room doubled over laughing, making the exertion worth it. the only one sensible to ask you to sit back down was lucifer, who had decided to watch the movie by standing at the back of the room, and denying that he even was. and upon seeing the baseball scene, all the brothers present (minus lucifer) wanted to do that immediately.

oh boy, what had you started?

[sturn777]

roses 'n rolled blunts, fb!chris x dealer!r

valentine’s day wasn’t really your thing. or chris’s.

but somehow, here you were, stretched out on chris’s couch, a blunt between your fingers, a bouquet of red roses sitting on his coffee table.

"who the fuck got you those?" you ask, exhaling smoke as you nod toward the flowers.

chris, posted up beside you in his usual hoodie and sweats, stretches his arms behind his head, all casual. "who do you think?"

your brows raise. "you buy yourself roses now?"

he snorts, shaking his head. "nah, dumbass. they're for you."

you blink. "for me?"

"yeah." he shrugs, grabbing the blunt from your hand, taking a slow drag. "figured i should get you somethin'. y’know, since you’re my girl and all."

his girl. he says it like it’s nothing, like it’s a fact of life. and maybe it is, but hearing it out loud still sends a spark down your spine.

you scoff, trying to play it cool. "what, no dinner? no fancy restaurant?"

chris grins, tapping the ash into a tray. "nah, but i got weed, wings, and a six pack in the fridge. sounds better, don’t it?"

you pretend to think about it, biting your lip. "mmm… depends. what kind of wings?"

he smirks, leaning in just enough that you catch the scent of his cologne under the smoke. "whatever kind you want, baby."

you roll your eyes, but the smirk playing on your lips gives you away.

he laughs, deep and low, tossing an arm over the back of the couch. "see? i knew i picked the right girl."

you exhale, leaning back into the cushions, letting the haze of smoke and the warmth of chris beside you settle in your bones. it’s easy like this, the way it always is with him, laid back, teasingg, effortless.

his fingers find your thigh absentmindedly, tracing slow circles through the thin material of your sweats. casual, but you feel the heat of it anyway.

"what, you get all sentimental on valentine’s day or somethin’?" you tease, nudging him.

he scoffs. "nah. just thinkin’."

"bout what?"

he exhales, flicking his lighter open and closed. "bout how i’d rather be doin’ something better with you than sittin’ here watchin’ reruns of some dumbass show you like."

your jaw drops. "gossip girl is not a dumbass show, it's a masterpiece."

"debatable."

you shove his shoulder, but he barely budges, just chuckles lowly, his hand sliding higher up your thigh.

you continue, "what exactly did you have in mind?"

he hums, tapping his fingers against your skin, thinking. "could take you to bed. show you how much i really appreciate you."

your stomach flips at that, at the way his voice drops an octave, lazy and thick with implication.

but you don’t give in that easy. "i wanna finish my blunt first?"

he smirks, plucking it from your fingers, taking a slow, taunting drag before exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling.

"guess you’re done now."

you scoff, shaking your head, but the heat pooling between your thighs betrays you.

"c’mon, valentine," he mutters, his voice all honey and smoke as he pulls you onto his lap, strong hands settling on your hips. "lemme make this a night worth rememberin’."

you tilt your head, pretending to think about it, but you both know you’re already gone for him.

© STURN777

[artsninspo]

FORGIVELESS - VII - I DON'T MIND WHO'S WATCHIN' 👀

« previous part

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~3.2K

Warning: NSFW 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️

Summary: This ones longer than most and steamy. Our two philanderers are in Mexico together where make up for lost time wink 😜 they're confronted with unexpected feelings and events.

VII - I DON'T MIND WHO'S WATCHIN'

Having recovered your suitcases from baggage you assess yourself in the airport mirror making you presentable. You can feel your heart beating violently in your chest at the stakes. As excited as you are to see Rio, you feel a little … Okay, a lot nervous. He hasn't spoken much about his family and why would he? But you were here now and wanted to make a good impression at the very least. But how would it look? What would they think of a woman that hasn't even signed the divorce papers, off on a getaway with her … boyfriend? Looking at your left hand the impression from years of wearing your wedding set is still there like a brand.

Don’t let James ruin this for you. You tell yourself juggling all the emotions. Just have fun with Rio. You add silently before looking yourself over in the mirror again and settling on confidence. Grabbing your bags you wheel them to the arrivals. The luggage you borrowed from your mother is hardly your usual style but it does the job. You look for a gentleman in a suit holding your name when you feel him behind you.

“You're crazy if you think I’m letting you get in a car with a stranger looking like that mama” He says, placing a peck on your neck as he takes his hand pulling you against him slowly at your waist. The effect on your body and mood is something worth studying. Closing your eyes and allowing yourself to relax.

“I missed you” you confess turning to face him and he smiles.

“You hide it well, you don't blow me up” Rio comments, not used to your restraint.

“You told me not to.” you remind him as he leans in stealing a kiss. It’s possessive and a bit of a show. You push him away playfully when you hear whistling from the other travellers. You can feel your cheeks burning.

“That was before I knew you, doesn't count” he shrugs casually rolling your bags to a truck.

“So I can call you whenever I want?” you ask as he gets your bags in.

“Mhm” he nods and you initiate a hug needing one really bad. Over the past few days you've missed the intimacy and physical connection the two of you share. Especially after being deprived of it for so long. Rio indulges you having missed the contact himself. He was out in the world living like a pubescent boy unable to control his needs, hornier than ever with only one person in mind. There was no point thinking of other women, they wouldn’t do it for him like you could. When you separate he gets the door and you get in. Rio walks around the front of the vehicle and pulls out of the lot. The console between you is big but it doesn't stop him from resting his hand on your thigh.

“What’s the plan for Today?” you ask.

“Rehearsals, but I’m not in the wedding party so I’m free,” he winks. His mind is already where yours is headed.

“And tomorrow?” you clarify.

“The wedding and reception. Day after I’m whatever you're on before heading home” he shrugs.

“Are you and your cousin close?” you ask and Rio’s hand leaves your thigh gripping the wheel as his jaw sets in frustration. “Sorry if I over-”

“Don’t apologise” Rio mutters, taking your hand and kissing the back of it before setting it back where it was. “We’re opposites, I’m here for my grandma. She raised us together and she’s old so I’m not gonna give her a headache by being a no show” Rio explains, omitting the more painful parts of the story. Reaching over you run your fingers against his stubble as he drives.

“I’m on whatever you’re on” you repeat.

“Nah, you stay squishy like a gummy bear. Put your feet up, relax and enjoy the vacation. Don't worry about me” he says.

“Friends don’t have a party when one of them is dealing with something.” you tell him.

“Friends?” Rio raises a brow and you shrug not knowing what other title to give him.

“You’re always there to listen to me” you add and he smiles again. And you move your hands from his facial hair to the top of his ear.

“You’re not allowed no other friends then” he comments and you laugh. Rio waits for you to push harder, settling in surprise when you don’t. In his experience women almost always wanted to title things. Arriving at the luxury resort you both hop out and attendants grab your bags. You walk up stairs to a treehouse style villa with nearly panoramic views in the main bedroom. It’s gorgeous and modern while somehow still feeling warm. You go to the window to admire the view of the jungle all around this villa.

“This is really really nice Rio” you turn to find him sitting on the bed. It’s huge and there's only one. Also, there are two luxury boxes beside him. “Rio” you ask unsure.

“You were sad and I know women like presents so I picked you up bags to match mine” he says casually. You smile leaning in to kiss him.

“Thank you” you smile as he places one of the boxes in your lap. Whenever James bought you gifts in the past he required a production of near hysterical praise while Rio almost hated acknowledgement of his kindness. With James there was always an occasion, with Rio it was just because. Your head spins trying to make sense of the man in front of you as you open the boxes to find a luxury duffle and carry on. “Thank you” you repeat overwhelmed by the gesture.

“Hey, mama, don't do that, don't cry” he says, reaching for you. He holds you and it's whiplash. His words and actions are the polar opposite of how he presents himself. The ‘I dont care facade’ is in stark contrast to how he treats you. Wiping your eyes you fight to keep the tears back.

“You're not allowed to have other friends either” you mutter and he laughs, his heart warming at you taking possession of him too.

“I don’t need any,” he  says to affirm your feelings before smothering you in quick kisses. You sit across him with your arms around his neck looking at him before he comes in for another kiss. He kisses you soft and slow, taking his time. Rio needs to savour every moment after so much time away. He needed to feel you. Feel your walls wrapped around his manhood, and our body writhing under him in pleasure. He kisses you deeper drawing out the seduction as he catches your bottom lip between his teeth pulling slightly. It’s just the right amount of pressure before he draws you out again, sucking your tongue. The kiss trails down your neck as you reach into his pants to make him feel as good as he's making you feel. Your hand moves in autopilot without a clearer view. His manhood comes to life in your hand as you wake it up stroking your hand lazily. Rio yanks your top down freeing your tits, his appetite for you insatiable as he places your pebbled nipples between his teeth kissing every part of your body that is sensitive to pleasure. Your strokes pick up along his length causing him to stop kissing you. Your eyes lock as rugged breaths take over. His eyes go low before closing in ecstasy from the pleasure you're beginning him. 

You're nearly on your knees about to blow him when the phone rings out. Panting Rio picks it up with his eyes still trained on you. He frowns in frustration. You see he’s trying to be free of his boxers and inside you. His body's reaction to yours makes you a little crazy. 

“Mmm” he sounds into the receiver clearly displeased.

“Alright, I’ll be there” he says before handing up pissed. Rio pulls you up from between his legs ready to kill Nick.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“Early family dinner before rehearsals.” he snaps pulling his pants back on.

“Rio!” you whine, needing it.

“Don't look at me like that” he says with a harshness to his tone. Standing you look at yourself in the mirror and curse.

“What time?” you ask.

“Now, I’m late” he says getting on a watch before his shoes. You feel something is a foot and head to your luggage.

“What are you doing you don't have to come, mama.” he says.

“I’m coming to Rio, blame me for you being late” you say, finding a dress that should fit the occasion nicely without being too much. “Give me five and say we got lost” you suggest heading into the bathroom and when you don't hear the door slam you smile. He listened. Five minutes later you emerge needing a little help with the zipper. You look and smell delectable and if it wasn’t for his granny Rio would be inside of you. You slip on a pair of flat sandals and hold his hand. Looking up into his eyes you see he’s grateful. You walk with him to the dinner venue and find a table full of people whose expressions change at the sight of you.

“Sorry we’re late” you apologise knowing RIo isn't going to. Eyes light at the sight of you and you lock eyes with the bride who gives you an accepting nod as Rio finds his seat pulling out your chair. You sit first and he follows.

“You’re not late …” The man beside the bride says.

“Y/N” you smile and he holds his hand out.

“Nick” the man introduces himself.

“Y/N, don’t worry. We’re very happy to have you and Christopher here with us” the bride says and you shake her hand rejecting her soon to be husbands hand out of respect for Rio.

“Thank you for the grace. You're gorgeous by the way” You tell her honestly and she beams. You hope you've lessened tensions.

“You too” she smiles as you settle back in your seat you find Rio sharing a look full of animosity and place your hand on his thigh. It’s twenty more minutes of talking before the first course is brought out and you realise the last minute invite was a ploy from Nick, his cousin. Dinner is delicious and Rio and his future in-laws' families both seem nice enough. However, the animosity between Rio and Nick is thick and something everyone seems to tiptoe around with the two men only falling in line for their grandmother who seems to be the families matriarch. Everyone mixes for a while after the dinner but Rio keeps you close until his grandmother beckons him. You look through the album of engagement photos when the Bride appears in front of you Marisol, which you learned from conversation and the table setting.

“There's a site with an itinerary for the wedding with all the dates, times, locations and shuttles. I won’t let Nick’s petty ruin my day” she smiles, handing you a card with a QR code. 

Smiling, you place it in your purse. “Thank you”

“All I ask is if Nick pokes too much you try and wrangle the bear, only this once” she whispers.

“If we’re talking about Christopher. I can't control him” you speak frankly.

“No but he likes you. I’m a shrink. I know these things. Their issues are deep rooted, they dont like eachother but they love each other” she sighs motioning to Rio and Nick being admonished by their grandmother. You smile and find her doing the same. “I may not need you to wrangle the bear” Marisol smiles watching their grandmother raise her pointer to Nick.

“Thanks and don’t stress before your big day” you smile.

“Thank you. Not that you need it but we have several makeup artists for the family pictures tomorrow. Me and a few girls will be making a little trouble tonight if you want to come.” she offers.

“She’s busy Marisol, shrink someone else” You hear from Rio as he resumes his position behind you. Marisol smiles.

“Nice speaking with you doll. Rio, I like her. Be a gentleman like we know you can be, not an ass” Marisol smiles before walking away. You look up at Rio to find him wearing a smirk.

“She’s nice” you comment.

“She’s an angel with a saviour complex to marry a case like Nick” he whispers in your ear making you smile before kissing your cheek.

“Can we go now?” you ask.

“No, grandma found out I wasn't at the wedding party. Now, I am” he comments and you pout.

“Then after the rehearsal?” you propose with the innuendo in your expression. Rio smiles when he sees the want in your eyes is as great as the want in his.

“Don’t look at me like that” he warns, pulling you in closer. You send him puppy eyes. “Shhh” he whispers as you wear him down. The beach is turned into a church for the destination wedding. Honestly, it's breathtaking. The walk through forces you to revisit bittersweet memories and as they go through the vows and how things are supposed to go you slip out to call your mom.

“Hey baby”

“Hey, I forgot to call to tell you I got in okay. Rio brought me to the hotel and then we got roped into a family dinner and a rehearsal” you tell her.

“How's the weather?” she asks but her tone is off.

“What's wrong?” you ask and she sighs deeply.

“A friend of James and the friend's wife were apparently at the airport and saw you kissing Rio. James called livid.” she says and you shake your head as your heart starts racing. “You have nothing to be guilty about. I’m just warning you baby-girl, he knows” she explains and you nod acknowledging the jig is up. 

“Thanks for telling me”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m going to re-join the festivities. I'll talk to you later. Thanks for telling me” you tell her.

“I love you”

“Love you too mom” you smile heading back to the dress rehearsal only to find Rio on high alert.

“You okay?” he asks first.

“Mhm” you nod.

“Come on, this shitshow is over” he says, wrapping his arm around you.

“Rio we need measurements” Nick shouts.

“Why so he can fuck up my suit?” Rio mutters as his grandma interjects that she has them already. “You look too good in that dress mama” he mutters trailing behind you.

“Look even better when you take it off me” you wink.

“Hey, before we go at it. Thanks for today” he says, arriving at your door with the key. You’re a little confused.

“For coming?” you ask.

“Nah, for coming with me to the brunch and diffusing the situation. I know you have your own stuff and you don't need to deal with mine too so I appreciate it.” he says.

“You don't have to thank me Rio, you're already getting lucky” you tease.

“Throw in a little extra” he winks joking too. You know that once you open the door neither of you will be leaving the room until morning. Heading in first you smile in excitement knowing you're about to have sex with the best. Your chemistry is through the roof and so is his appreciation for you, his gifts, attention to detail and voluntary acts of service. There's nothing to worry about in his presence, a feeling you don't know if you've ever truly experienced before.

“How do you want me?” you ask, stepping out of your slippers and headed to the bed. Locking the door behind him Rio’s eyes track you.

“Stop right there,” He says. 

The answer is simple, his mood is rare. Seeing you smiling among his family did something to him. He needed to show you appreciation for having his back today. He wanted to watch you lose control as he went deeper. Your back is arching to accommodate his size. The glow that would come off of your skin as your body grew warmed from his touch. He presses a button to draw the shades and another to dim the lights. Before closing the distance to you. You can sense that tonight is different. You take a deep breath in, admiring the man standing in front of you. His hands go to your shoulders slipping the straps of your dress off. When Rio’s done undressing you're happy you're wearing one of your new sets. His eyes look sated already. Like it means the world to him to have you here with him, like he knows you bought the set you're wearing just for him. Rio’s head dips to your neck and he kisses sloppily before the pressure threatens to leave hickeys.

“Rio” you whisper, breaking the contact to kiss his lips. 

“Mmm” he groans, leading you to the bed.

“I need you” you whisper needy. His eyes shut firmly. He breathes heavily to try and calm down. There's no room for more foreplay than the past few days have been.

“Ok baby” he mutters and you go to turn knowing he likes to take you from behind. A firm hand stops you from turning.

“I want to see you” he says through rugged breaths and low lids. Without words you oblige feeling your body heat again. Rio kisses you deeper as you position you comfortably in the bed. Years of yoga make any position easy. Only, tonight isn't about flexibility or stamina. He needed to be inside you. It’s exactly where you need him. Your legs open instinctively, your body humming and ready for him. He springs free from his boxers and your eyes find his. 

He gives you another slow sloppy kiss before pushing your panties aside. The look he gives you makes your toes curl. Familiar fingers test the waters with teasing strokes. Proof of your anticipation is coating the fingers that end in his mouth. Placing one hand down Rio guides his manhood into you. His brown eyes hold yours watching as you adjust to inch after inch of him. 

Time slows as your body acclimates, growing more comfortable and aroused by the contact and his size. His eyes close once he's fully in and you pull him into a kiss tasting his effect on you. Your tongues dance as his strokes go from shallow to deep.

His eyes never leave you, the vulnerability of it ignites all of your senses. Every touch is electric. Every moan felt deeper and deeper. Every lude comment or lustful whisper makes each of you more reactive. Your eyes open and close in sequence as he strokes deeper and deeper until he’s rooted. Rio’s eyes open and his body stiffens. You watch arousal build as yours does too. He smiles just as his orgasm rips through him. Warm heat oozes inside of you before spilling out. Without breaking the intimate connection, Rio is now on his back with your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you as he stares at the ceiling in a post-coital daze. His hand trails over your back and it feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. Your heart is full, body is sated and you feel safe.

Authors Note: Hopefully this is the beginning of your 🇲🇽 expectations. How did you enjoy them reconnecting. How did you like to see Nick. What do you think happens next?

» next part

TAGS: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads

[sarahsmi13s]

Rocks Are Allowed to Crack, Stars Are Allowed to Dim

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x fem!pilot!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n nivans, the daggers, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, diego and benny harding (oc father and son)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, language, ptsd, description of accident, panic attack, injuries, descriptions of scars, flashbacks, fear of death, familial death (mentioned), crying, bottling up feelings, please please let me know if i missed any

word count: ~8.0k

a/n: this has been sitting in my docs and on my wheel for at least a year (please forgive the awkward moments). so i figured i'd take a sliver of the wheel and make him a little lighter! i've also been in a funk lately, so i thought getting something out there might help!

quick summary: everyone deserves someone to comfort them in their time of need, even the ones that always lend their shoulder

Ah, yes, dogfight football. Maverick’s way of creating a team. You play offense and defense at the same time. Tackling each other into the sand, sometimes into the water. It may be chaotic, but it’s fun and a great team building exercise.

Which is why you hated that you were running a little behind.

You sighed as you got out of your car and walked over to where Penny was sitting at the table. 

You placed your aviators on your head, “I’m not late am I?” Penny chuckled and shook her head, “Just in time. Want a beer before you go?” You shook your head, “Nah, I’m okay right now. Care to watch my stuff?” 

The brunette gestured to the items in front of her, chuckling, “I’m watchin’ everyone else's. I don’t see why not.” You chuckled and sat your wallet, phone, and keys down, as well as your sunglasses. You slipped off your shorts, folding them and laying them down.

“Nivans!” 

You turned at the call of your last name, brows raised in curiosity. 

 It was Maverick. 

“Hurry up and get down here!”

You turned to Penny, “This is gonna be fun.” You both laughed before you jogged across the sand to meet everyone by the water. 

“Sorry I’m late, Mav.” 

Maverick shook his head, “You’re not late, Rockstar. Can’t be late for fun.” 

“Not gonna take your t-shirt off?” Phoenix asked when you stood beside her. You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good.” 

Hangman sighed, “That’s a shame.” 

You chuckled at him and bent down to throw a handful of sand at him. 

“Watch it, Rockstar,” Hangman said, his voice light as he glared at you playfully.

“Or what, Hangman?” You challenged, eyes narrowed but a smile pulled at your lips.

Now, you and Hangman joked like this all the time. You considered each other best friends, which confused everyone else on base. 

Jake Seresin was an asshole. He was cocky and arrogant. You, Y/N Nivans, were not an asshole. Quite the opposite, actually. 

You were humble while still knowing your worth, but also showing anybody up if they proposed a challenge, and not being sour when you lost. 

Jake went out looking for competition, you let it come to you. 

You were also probably the sweetest thing to walk the planet. Most certainly the sweetest to walk the airstrip. 

You were nice to everyone, always giving someone the benefit of the doubt until they truly proved they were an asshole. 

You also took care of your team, they were your family. You always had the door open if someone needed to talk. Your arms were wide open when they showed up in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare and couldn’t shake it. You were their rock.

So, when you walked into the Hard Deck that first day of the Uranium Mission and hugged Hangman, everyone was confused — except Coyote who knew you from a year prior. But they didn’t verbally question you, choosing instead to ponder in private.

Hangman sighed, “Come on, Rocky. You're giving your enemy the advantage.” He tugged at your shirt and pulled you into his arms. 

You laughed and pushed him away by his chest, “You’re gonna have to catch me first.” Hangman cocked his head to the side, “Oooh, that’s how it is?” You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips, “That’s how it is.” 

You panted as you used your shirt to wipe the sweat from your face. 

When you let go of your shirt you raised your arms, calling for the ball. They threw it to you and you took off for your endzone. 

You felt the sand shift and you knew Hangman was behind you. You had to get rid of the ball, so you called out to your teammate, “Phoenix!” She ran ahead of you and you threw her the ball.

As soon as the ball was out of your hand, Hangman tackled you to the ground. 

You laughed as you laid on your stomach, arms out in front of you. 

“What was that about ‘catching you’?” Jake grunted from above you.

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “Haha, very funny Hangman. Now get off, you’re heavy.” 

“First, ouch. Second, nah, you’re comfy.” You laughed and shook your head, attempting to push off the ground and basically buck him off. 

But, Hangman wouldn’t let you, laughing as he moved and made you fall back down.

In this new position, Hangman was putting pressure on a certain part of your back and panic shot through you. 

“Seriously, dude, get up,” you tried to say with a laugh, not wanting to sound rude or like you were mad at him. He just smiled and rested his chin on his hands. 

You closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, but the waves hitting you pushed you over the edge. 

“Jake, get the fuck off me.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you were panicking.

Jake was surprised by your tone, along with the use of his first name. He immediately got up and held out a hand for you to take but you just got up and ran to the table. 

“Rockstar, where you going?” Maverick asked. You called out while still running, “I need a break for a minute.” 

You got to the table, “Is it unlocked?” Penny nodded, “Yeah, why?” “Bathroom break.” Penny just nodded again and watched you take your sunglasses with you as you jogged inside.

Rooster ran over and hit Jake’s arm, “What did you do, Hangman?” Jake shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He put his hands on his hips and watched you disappear into the bar. 

He felt bad, he wanted to chase after you and apologize but he didn’t know what he did. 

“Well, you seemed to piss her off,” Phoenix said, shoving the ball into his chest. 

Maverick looked at Penny but she just shrugged, meaning you didn’t say much.

You ran into the bathroom, throwing yourself into a stall.  

You leaned over the toilet and waited to throw up. Tears had started running down your face the minute you stepped in the bar. You coughed and sobbed lightly as you tried to control your breathing. 

After a few minutes of that, the nausea subsided and you slowly stood to go to the sink. 

You turned the cold water on and splashed your face. 

“Shit…” 

You closed your eyes as the tight feeling in your chest loosened. You let out a shaky breath and looked in the mirror, cringing at the puffiness around your eyes. You grabbed your sunglasses and slipped them on before leaving the bathroom.

When you stepped outside you saw Maverick and Penny talking, and when you sat down they stopped talking and looked at you concerned. 

“You alright? Gave Hangman quite the scare for a second,” Mav asked, squaring his shoulders to you. You nodded, resting your forearms on the table. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rubbed your forehead, “Hey Pen-” 

Before you could finish your sentence, a beer was sat in front of you, causing you to giggle, “Read my mind.”

As he continued to play, Jake still couldn’t get over the fact that you called him ‘Jake’ during a day out. 

It wasn’t that you never did, but it was rare that you called anyone by their first name. 

But it wasn’t just that, it was the way you said that really made him worry. He had never heard your voice sound like that before.

He looked at you from his spot on the beach, noticing you didn’t come back to join in the fun. 

Hangman walked up to Phoenix, worried that he had really upset you and wanted help from the girl you were closest to. “You don’t really think I pissed her off, do you?” 

She sighed, “I don’t know, Hangman. Even if you did, I doubt she could stay mad at you for long. She can't be mad at anyone for very long.”

Jake nodded and watched you stand up from your spot at the table.

You finished your beer and stood up, “I’m gonna head out.” 

Maverick frowned, “You sure you’re okay, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just really need to shower. I’ve got sand in places sand shouldn’t be,” you said with a light laugh. 

“Okay, drive safe. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Yes, sir.” You collected your stuff and headed to your car.

Jake noticed you leaving and tilted his head, “Hey…” He patted Coyote on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” 

He jogged up to the table to ask Maverick if he knew anything.

“Is she okay?” Hangman asked as soon as he came to a stop. Maverick shrugged, not looking up at the pilot, “She seemed okay. Said she needed to shower.” 

Jake let out a breath, “So she isn’t mad at me?” 

“I didn’t say that. But as far as I can tell, she’s just tired.” 

Jake licked the sweat off his upper lip, putting his hands on his hips as he looked down. 

“Hangman, honey, just go talk to her. If she’s upset with you, she’ll be honest about it,” Penny encouraged, giving Jake a small smile. He nodded and jogged to go find you before you left. 

You were standing by your car, the door opened as you moved to get in when he approached. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake called as he walked over to you. You smiled, “Hey, Hangman.” 

Jake swallowed, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I was just messing around. I did-” 

You held your hand up, cutting him off, “Jake, I’m not mad at you. I know you were just playing. But your tackle jump started my bladder and I wasn’t kidding when I said you were heavy.” You giggled a bit to show him you were teasing.

Hangman visibly relaxed at the sound, “Okay, good. I know I like to get under everyone’s skin. Sometimes I don’t know when to knock it off. I–” 

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “Jake, I can handle your teasing. Yeah, you can get a little mean. But I know it’s all a big show. Come here,” you opened your arms and made grabby hands at Jake. 

He just shook his head and chuckled, pulling you in by your outstretched hands and letting them find their place around his built torso. 

He rubbed his hand on your back, nearly missing the slight tensing right beneath your shoulder blades before they relaxed. His brow furrowed but he didn’t mention it, thinking that maybe it was you tightening your arms around him. 

He kissed the top of your head before you pulled away. 

“Geez, Jake, you’re sweaty.” 

“You’re not too dry yourself, Rockstar.” You laughed and playfully shoved him away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” You smiled and slid into your car, “I’ll kick your ass tomorrow Hangman.” 

He scoffed leaning on the roof of your car and the open door. “Since when did you get so cocky?” 

You smirked and placed your glasses on your head, forgetting that your eyes could still be red and puffy from earlier. “It’s not cocky if it’s the truth.” 

Jake shook his head and looked back to the shore. “Uh-huh. We’ll see.” He leaned back and patted the top of your car. “Drive safe.” You nodded, and he closed your door. 

He watched you start it up before driving away.

Jake shook his head and made his way back to the group.

Speaking of the group, they had all noticed the change in Jake when you showed up at the Hard Deck a few months ago. 

While he was still his cocky self, having no shame in bragging and trash talking, he seemed to tone it down when you were around.

They also noticed how he always made sure to find you in the crowd, keeping an eye on you. Coyote joked that you had Hangman wrapped around your finger, that he would be at your side with a simple look. 

Jake was painfully aware of the effect you had on him. 

When he met you a year ago, he was starstruck by your dazzling smile. 

So, naturally, in true Hangman fashion, he flirted with you. 

With a toothpick between his perfect white teeth and his bright green eyes shining under the yellow lights of the bar, he walked up to you. 

“I sure hope no one left you alone.” 

When you turned, eyeing him up and down to take in the uniform, beer bottle popping as it left your mouth, his breath was ripped from his lungs. 

“Well, you’re here now. I’m not alone.” 

Seeing your smile up close caused Hangman to blush, and leaving him thankful that his tan could somewhat hide it. 

“Well, ain’t I special.” 

You nodded, giggling while looking down at the bar, “That you are. But, before this can go any further, I’m gonna be honest, I’m more dedicated to my work than anything else at the moment. And I have to be up by 5, so I’d hate to lead you on.” 

Jake shook his head, but you continued, gesturing around the bar, “I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love to get attention from you and give you attention.” 

Jake smiled –not smirked, smiled– while leaning on the bar, “Well, the only one I want attention from is you. Plus, I can’t stay out too late either. Gotta be at work early too, so I guess we’re both clocking in early.” 

None of the feelings that day had been one sided. You also had been starstruck by Hangman. 

He was broad shoulder, tall, tan, and had a voice that could make a girl swoon in a second. But you knew he was a pilot, his uniform gave it away, and you knew how they acted. Except, you liked Jake’s company and decided to talk all night with him. 

Ironically, what you both did for work never came up.

So, imagine the look on Jake’s face when he saw you the next day in your flight suit. 

“You didn’t tell me you were a pilot.” 

You smirked, “You didn’t ask.” 

He shook his head, biting his lower lip to hide his smile but failed. 

You nodded to him, “What do they call you?” 

“Hangman. What about you?” You smiled, “Rockstar.” 

You were able to peg why he earned his callsign very early on but he couldn’t seem to figure yours out. 

Until he had a close call and couldn’t shake it.

The last day of training had just ended, tomorrow you might not come home, and to say you were nervous was a major understatement. 

As you changed to get ready to go out with the squad, you couldn’t stop shaking. You knew you needed a drink… okay a couple drinks.

While you changed, Hangman was walking around, looking for you. 

When he walked past the locker room, he caught a glimpse of you reaching to pick something up.

He turned to walk in, but stopped when he saw that you only had your pants on. But, before he could stop himself, his eyes trailed up your back; starting from above your waistline on your pants and going up. 

Then he stopped, his eyes widening when he saw the large scar that looked fairly new – maybe a year or so old. It spanned from the middle of your left shoulder blade to nearly below your ribcage and was positioned diagonally across your back. 

Jake quickly looked away, realizing that you must have not wanted anyone to see it if you hadn’t told him. 

His brow furrowed as questions ran through his mind. Was that why you freaked out during dogfight football, the other day? Why you always tense up when you get an unexpected touch there? 

Shit… He thought, feeling like a horrible friend for never noticing and never asking. 

Jake took a deep breath and walked away, choosing to approach the locker room differently and pretend he never saw you. 

He put on a smile and walked back towards the locker room, “Hey, Rockstar! You almost ready?” He stopped just short of the door, leaning his back against the wall. 

Your head jerked up as you pulled your t-shirt down. “Uh, yeah, Hangman. I’ll be ready in a second.” 

You finished getting ready and walked out, jumping slightly when he pushed off the wall. 

“Geez Hang, don’t do that!” You punched his arm. 

“Gosh, I forgot how hard you punch.” He chuckled and rubbed the spot on his arm as you both walked to the parking lot.

You all sat in the Hard Deck, drinking and playing pool.

“Dude, she’s kicking your ass!” Payback laughed as he clapped Hangman on the shoulder. 

You were, in fact, kicking Jake’s ass in pool. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the blond narrowed his eyes at Payback. 

“Yeah, you feelin’ okay? You’ve been off your game tonight Bagman,” Rooster commented, smirking as he drank his alcohol. 

Instead of clapping back at the jab, Jake just rolled his eyes and lined up his shot. 

That made you frown, Hangman always had a comeback. Always had sarcastic quips to embarrass the other person. But he was silent. 

You made eye contact when he stood, silently asking if he was okay. He just nodded and moved to sink another pool ball. 

You didn’t want to drop it, but you did for the sake of having fun before facing the chance of death tomorrow.

Sometime later, after a few rounds of pool and drinks, you all stood around and just talked.

“Hey, did you guys hear about that one pilot that saved her WSO’s life when they got shot down?” Bob asked, looking around the group. 

You clenched your jaw slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice. 

“Bob, that happens all the time. It’s kinda what we do,” Phoenix said, squeezing his shoulder. 

Rooster stood up and sat his beer down. “No, not the way this pilot did. Bob, I know who you’re talking about. I read the mission file, the only thing that was classified was the pilot and WSO’s names.” 

You swirled the beer in your glass, not looking up from the amber liquid. “Did the pilot survive?” 

When you finished asking, you looked up, trying to ignore the watchful eyes of Hangman as you met Rooster’s eyes. 

The latter nodded, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, she did. But she had a pretty serious injury. I’m not sure if she was ever clear to fly again.” 

You nodded and looked back down at your glass. 

“And the WSO?” Jake asked, eyeing you as you downed the rest of your drink before looking at Rooster and Bob. 

“He survived. But I don’t know if he still flies,” Bob answered. 

“Well, that’s good that they both survived,” you said, your smile returning to your face. 

Rooster shook his head a bit, “Yeah, but that pilot pulled a risky move. Saving some like that…” 

Your smile dropped a bit, “People have their reasons.” You raised your glass, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Hangman watched you leave as the conversation changed into something more light hearted. 

Jake took a step to go after you but Coyote caught his arm. “Hey, come on. Play me in a round of pool. Let’s see if you still got your game.” Jake looked from his friend back to you and saw you laughing with Penny and Maverick at the bar. That allowed him to relax a little bit. 

“Oh, I still got my game. Let’s see if you found yours,” he smirked. “There he is!” Coyote laughed and clapped Jake on the back.

As Jake played pool with Coyote, you talked with Penny and Maverick. 

“Are you serious?” 

You nodded, laughing at Penny’s reaction to you telling her how you and Jake met. 

“Pen, why are you surprised? Hangman flirts with every girl,” Maverick said, using his hand to point the direction of the mentioned pilot. You and Penny both nodded your agreement. 

“Sounds familiar,” Penny says, a playful grin on her face making Maverick roll his eyes.

You had become so invested in your conversation with Penny and Mav, that you missed Rooster coming up behind you.

He placed his hand on your back, right on your scar, making you tense and jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya’ Rocky,” he took his hand off and leaned on the bar. 

“You doin’ okay? You seemed a bit…” He glanced back at the group, thinking of the right word. “...tense a minute ago.” 

You bit the inside of your lip, had you really been that obvious? 

Still, you nodded and gave him your best smile. 

But to him, he could see that it didn’t reach your eyes. He may not have been your best friend, but he had seen plenty of your genuine smiles and this one did not make your eyes shine like the others. 

Bradley decided not to press, “Okay…” He turned to Penny, “Penny, could we get another round?” The bartender nodded, “Of course, but you’re reaching your cut off.” 

Penny had set a cut off for drinks for the pilots not wanting them to go into this mission hungover. You chuckled and glanced back at the group, all of them messing around and having fun. “Yes ma’am.” 

You turned to Rooster and then back down to your empty glass. Penny hadn’t refilled it yet, having started a conversation with you as soon as you came over. 

You glanced at your watch, seeing that you had been there for a couple hours. 

Penny sat a tray down, placing the full glasses on top. “There you are, Rooster. Who’s tab?”

Rooster opened his mouth to tell her to put it on his, but you beat him to it, “Put it on mine Pen.” 

“You got the last round, Rockstar,” Rooster argued. You shrugged, “I don’t mind. Plus, I’m closing my tab for tonight.” 

“What? You’re heading out already?” You nodded, sliding Penny your card, “I’m hitting my limit, Roos.” 

Bradley searched your eyes for a moment, looking for any indication that something was wrong.

You were usually the one that made sure everyone was okay to go home and if they needed rides; so leaving early rung bells in Rooster’s head. 

Penny gave you your card and receipt, “Thank you.” “Thanks Pen,” you gave her a smile before turning back to Rooster. 

“Tell ‘em I’m heading out. I know if I do it I won’t be able to leave.” You gave him a one armed hug and turned to Maverick, “See you in the morning, Captain.” 

“See you in the morning, Rockstar.” 

Penny gently squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile as you slid off the bar stool and walked out. 

Rooster, Maverick, and Penny watched you leave the building before turning to each other, concern written all over their faces. 

“Is she okay? She’s been acting a little off ever since dogfight football the other day,” Penny asked the two pilots. 

They both shrugged, Bradley looking up at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

“I’ve noticed, but I thought it was just because Harvard and Yale had to eject the other day,” Mav admitted. “We were all a little shaken up by that…” 

It was silent for a minute. 

“You know… if one person knows anything, it’d probably be Seresin,” Penny said, pointing over to the pilot, who was very invested in the game he was winning, and basically suggesting that they talk to him. 

Bradley sighed, knowing that Penny was right and if anyone knew you the best, it would be him. He grabbed the tray, thanking Penny and walking over to the group.

They all cheered when he sat the tray down, taking a glass for themselves. 

Jake noticed that there was an extra and he frowned in confusion before he realized it was for you. 

He looked up, eyes searching for you in the crowd, panicking a little when he couldn’t see you, “Where’s Rockstar?” 

Rooster sighed, “She closed her tab and left. Said she reached her limit.” 

Fanboy frowned a little bit, “Why didn’t she just tell us herself?” 

Rooster shrugged, “Said if she did it would take longer for her to leave.” 

“Does she seem different to you guys?” Coyote asked, finally voicing his concern that had buit up over the last few days. 

The group shared a look before making small noises of agreement. 

“I mean, she’s still the same Y/N. Still lighting up a room and being there for us like she always has been… I just… I don’t know.” 

Rooster looked at Jake, “Hangman, you’re like her best friend, do you know anything?” 

Jake shrugged and shook his head, “All I know is she’s nervous for tomorrow and the accident the other day shook her up a bit, but she hasn’t said anything else.” 

He took a large gulp from his beer, hoping to swallow the confession of seeing your scar that he wanted to bring to light.  You trusted Jake and he wasn’t about to ruin that by telling the squad what he saw when he wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.

Meanwhile, you walked the beach, taking in the fresh and salty air. You just needed the quiet time before you went home.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, seeing a text from Hangman and laughing slightly at the message.

Hangboy: Hey, I get that I kicked your ass those last few rounds of pool, but you could have told me you were leaving. I would have walked you out. Text me when you get home. 

Also, there was an extra beer. I assume it was meant for you, but you left so I drank it. Don’t worry though, I can handle it.

You shook your head and opened your phone, but not to text Jake.

You went to your contacts and pressed the caller ID, putting the phone to your ear as it rang. 

“Hey, Rockstar, what's up? It’s been awhile.” 

You smiled, sighing, “Sure has been, Tundra. How are you? How’s the little one?” “I’m good. Ben is great, he wants to know when you’ll be by again to visit.” 

You giggled at the fact the 6 year old wanted to see you. “Soon… hopefully.” “Y/N, I know that voice. Is it happening again?” You shook your head, despite the fact that Tundra couldn’t see you. 

“No, no. Well, sorta, but this is different Diego.” You heard him shift, presumably crossing his arms. “What do you mean?” 

You sighed, remembering that you couldn’t share all that much about the mission, even if he was former Navy. 

“I don’t know how much I can tell you. But I got called back to TopGun, and I could be flying out on a mission tomorrow. A dangerous one.” 

“Y/N, do they know?” 

You shook your head again, this time to fight tears. “No, but I’m scared that mid air, I’m gonna freeze. I don’t wanna freeze, Diego. I haven’t frozen since our incident. But I don’t know what’s been wrong these past couple of weeks. I can’t seem to shake off this dread… this-this fear. I do-don’t-” 

He cut you off, “Have you talked to anyone recently?” 

You were silent and he took that as a no. “Y/N, you have to talk about it if you ever want to move past it.”  “I did though. I had mandated therapy for my entire time in recovery.” “And have you been since you recovered?”

You threw a hand up, frustrated, “I thought I was past it! I hadn’t had an attack in a year, not until we were playing football. I-I thought it was just a one time thing, and then something happened during training and I just-” 

You were cut off by a small, tired voice. 

“Is that Aunt Y/N?” 

“It is. Do you want to talk to her? I think she needs to talk to you.” “Yes, please!” You smiled as you heard the phone go to speaker and then be passed to the little boy. 

“Hey, Aunt Y/N!” 

You smiled, tears finally falling, “Benarino, hey buddy.” “I miss you. When are you coming to visit?” You wiped at your eyes with a shaking hand. “Soon, buddy. Really soon,” you sniffled. 

“Aunt Y/N, why are you crying?” 

You laughed, coughing a little at the end, “I just really miss you Benny. I can’t wait to see you.” 

You looked back at the Hard Deck, seeing your fellow pilots laugh and sing. 

“I’m gonna bring a friend too. If that’s okay with your mom and dad?” “That’s alright with me, Rockstar. I’m sure Lila won’t mind.” 

“Who is it?” 

You brought playfulness into your voice, “You remember the pilot I told you about? The one that thought he could fly better than your Aunt Rocky?” 

The little boy giggled, “Yeah!” “Well, I think it’s about time you brought home the boy that stole your heart.” 

“Diego,” you hissed. “We are just friends.” “Mhmm, sure.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “You should probably get Ben to bed before Lila wakes up.” 

You heard Diego grunt as he picked up his son, “Goodnight Benny Boy.” “G’night Aunt Y/N.” 

“Call me when you make it back.” You nodded, hand sliding into your back pocket, “Yeah, of course. Night Tundra.” “Night Rockstar.” 

The call ended and you slid your phone into your unoccupied back pocket.

You took in a deep breath, trying to relax again. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. 

On an inhale, the scent of smoke filled your nostrils and it made you hold your breath.

Quickly looking around, you spotted a bonfire a couple yards away. Realizing it was harmless, you let out the breath and tried to relax your shoulders.

But, despite knowing it was completely harmless, your body went into a state of panic. Your chest tightened, limbs went numb, pain spread through your back, and tears filled your eyes. 

You held a hand to your chest, the air stopping just before it made it to your lungs, and stumbled to your car as fast as you could, hoping you weren’t seen by your friends inside the bar.

Jake looked at his phone as he left the bar. You hadn’t texted him, and by now you definitely should have been back to your on base bungalow. 

Hangman wasn’t going to panic, he knew you well enough that you would have texted or called him if something bad happened. Of course he felt anxious, who wouldn’t, but he was going to remain calm. 

The reason you hadn’t texted him when you got home was because the moment you fumbled yourself into your place, you booked it for the bathroom. 

Your knees smacked into the tile and you threw up whatever alcohol you had consumed before the strangled sob ripped itself from your throat. You crumbled to the tile as your chest refused to let air in. 

Your skin felt hot and sticky, sweat coating it as you laid on your bathroom floor. It wasn’t helping you, your damp, hot skin sending you back to one of the worst days of your life.

So, in a frenzy, you ripped off your shirt and kicked off your shoes and socks before yanking your pants off, not even loosening your belt. 

You crawled over the tub wall, too dizzy to properly stand, before fumbling with the knob to turn the water on. 

Once you got it turned on, you jostled the faucet switch, a desperate sob escaping as it kept falling down before it finally stuck, turning the shower on and drenching you in water.

And that was how Jake found you.

Jake decided to stop by your place and check on you, that being his only option to get his anxiety to go away. 

When he pulled up to your place and saw your car there, he let out a breath of relief. 

He parked his truck behind your car and ran to your door, his chest lighter than before.

But his chest became heavy again when he made it to your door only to find it unlocked. You rarely left your door unlocked, if ever.

He cautiously pushed it open, looking around to see if anything was out of place. 

Your keys were on the floor, your phone and wallet not too far from them. 

Jake walked further in, making sure to close and lock the door behind him. 

He held his breath as he looked for you. But his search was cut short when he heard the shower running. 

He exhaled and had to take a minute to calm the drumming in his chest. 

He cautiously walked to the bathroom, making sure to knock before walking in. He kept his head down so he didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to… again. 

“Hey I was-” 

The door stopped, hitting something on the floor. 

Hangman squinted his eyes in confusion. It was your shoe. He kicked it out of the way and pushed the door open enough for him to just step in and close it. 

He stopped with his hand on the door, realizing that the room didn’t feel like a sauna. There was no fog covering the mirrors and steam wasn’t filling the small space. You always showered hot, and right now the bathroom was freezing. 

Jake finally looked up and saw you curled in the shower, the water cascading from the faucet and hitting your back. It was obvious you had been there for a while because you were shivering. 

Jake sat on the edge of the tub cautiously, not wanting to startle you.

His heart broke at the sound of your quiet crying and the puffy redness of your eyes was a sight Jake never wanted to see again.

The eyes that usually held the brightness of the stars and a kindness that was unmatched, were now red, distant, and constantly filled with tears that fell over and mixed with the water drenching you. 

He hated it.

Jake held his hand under the water and recoiled at how cold it was. 

“Shit,” he cursed as he quickly turned it off. 

When you didn’t react, he knew you truly weren’t in this reality. 

“Y/N,” he spoke gently and touched your arm. He sharply inhaled when he discovered how cold you were. “Y/N, darlin’, we need to dry you off and get you in some warm clothes. You’ll get sick.” 

Jake wasn’t sure if you heard him because you just stared ahead, biting on your nail. He sighed and pulled your hand away from your mouth. 

He moved to pull his hand back but you grabbed it, your freezing cold hand latching onto his warm one. “Please don’t… Jake, please don’t leave.” 

Your voice was quiet and broken, raw with fear. And he was sure that sent a shiver up his back.

Jake quickly shifted to kneel beside the tub, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand. “I’d never leave you hangin’.” 

He looked you over, “Can I pick you up?” You nodded, letting his hand slip from your grip and feel it wrap under your legs.

He awkwardly shifted to lean over and pick you up, grunting a little as stood up. He was too pressed about his clothes getting wet, he’s sure he’s got pants somewhere around here.

Jake managed to open the bathroom door and walked to your bedroom. 

He sat you on the bed and quickly grabbed the towel on the back of your desk chair. 

Wrapping it around you, Jake kissed the top of your head. “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he spoke gently against your hair.

He pulled back and watched you bite your lip to keep your tears hidden.

You avoided his eyes, looking at your shaking hands. 

“I’m gonna get you some clothes, okay?” You slowly nodded, lip trembling before you bit down on it again.

Your eyes didn’t follow him as he walked around your room, but your ears were very aware of Jake’s noises; everything from his footsteps to his mumbling. 

In under five minutes, neatly folded clothes were placed beside you and Jake kneeled in front of you, his large hands resting on your biceps gently. 

“Do you want me to stay while you change?” 

It took you a second to register what he had asked, but he was patient and rubbed reassuring circles on your arms with his thumbs. 

You inhaled, the familiar scent of his cologne calming you down a bit. 

You were tempted to say yes, you didn’t want to be alone but you also didn’t want Jake to see you any more vulnerable than he already has. 

You shook your head, unconsciously pulling the towel tighter around you. 

Jake noticed it and nodded, “Okay, I’ll go tidy up your bathroom and throw some blankets in the dryer to fluff them up and get ‘em warm.” He gave you a small smile and stood, leaving the room and the door open just a crack.

You managed to peel off the wet bra and underwear, drying off before changing. 

That simple task was exhausting. It felt like your bones had turned to rocks and your muscles no longer existed. But eventually, you did it.

You haphazardly dried your hair, basically just dry enough to where it wasn’t dripping, and walked into the small living room. 

You sat on the couch, deciding to occupy your hands with your oversized shirt while you waited for Jake. 

Minutes later he was on the couch beside you, wrapping you in the fresh-out-of-the-dryer blanket. 

“Thank you…” Your voice had a rawness to it that made Jake shiver, something was really wrong and he didn’t know how to help.

He nodded and rubbed your upper back, “Of course.”

He sat there for a moment, just listening to your sniffles and weeping exhales, before finally turning to face you. 

“What’s going on? ‘Cause this-” He gestured to you and your current state. “-is way more than just nerves for tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be-” 

“If you say ‘fine’, I swear,” he sighed to control his volume. “Y/N, you are not fine.” 

“Jake…”

The blond pilot took a deep breath, looking at the sliver of couch cushion between you. “I saw it…” 

If you weren’t going to be honest, then he needed to be. Maybe what he saw is connected to what was shaking you to your core all of a sudden.

He finally looked up at you and watched your breathing halt as fear filled your eyes. 

Jake continued, making sure to keep his tone even, “I didn’t mean to. I was just looking for you in the locker room today and I-” He stopped talking when you choked out a small cry. 

He immediately pulled you into his lap, one hand going to the back of your head and the other arm wrapped around your lower back. “I got you… I got you.”

Jake closed his eyes and rocked you a little as his mind went back to the day these roles were reversed.

Jake had sat in the locker room, flight suit half off and tied around his waist. His knee bouncing as his eyes went in and out of focus. 

“Hangman!” You called as you ran down the hall. But he couldn’t hear you with the blood still rushing in his ears. 

“Hangman! Hang- There you are!” You jogged to him and saw that his emerald eyes were blank, not the playful or confident eyes you normally saw. “Hey, Hang- Jake what’s wrong?” You knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his bouncing knee to stop it.

Jake looked at you, the concern swimming in your eyes breaking whatever resolve he had left. 

The tears he tried so hard to hold in finally spilled down his cheeks. 

You instantly cupped his face in your hands, wiping them away, “What’s got you so shaken up? I’ve never seen you like this.” 

He shook his head, pushing your hands away as he sat up and leaned against the locker. “You’re not supposed to.” 

You sighed and leaned back on your heels, “What happened up there?” 

Jake wiped the still flowing tears, shaking his head, “I don’t know. I guess- Fuck I don’t know, Rockstar.” 

You stood, “Talk to me, Jake. Please, I’m your friend and I want to help.” 

Your tone was desperate and worried. This was a new version of Jake that you would have never seen if you hadn’t followed him off the tarmac.

Hangman finally got the guts to grab your hand and squeeze it. He took a deep breath as he tried to collect himself. 

“I almost lost you up there. You’re one of my closest friends, we’ve only known each other for a few months and I feel like we’ve known each other forever. I never let myself be that close to anyone, but you made it so easy.” 

His voice was raw and shaky. He was scared, but you couldn’t blame him. What just happened to you both was really intense and it was scary. But you were both okay.

You squeezed his hand back, giving him a soft but encouraging smile. 

“Can we just- Shit this is gonna sound so weird…” 

You knew where he was going, so you straddled his legs and wrapped him in a hug. “I got you Jake, I got you.”

That was when Jake realized the backstory to your call sign. You were everyone’s rock. You kept everyone sane, even at the expense of yourself.

Which is why you were currently shaking and sobbing in his arms. You never sought out comfort for your problems, a bad habit you picked up in high school. You always put everyone first, and you had it in your head that you couldn’t be vulnerable. 

You pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes, “I’m sorry…” 

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” 

“Because I-” 

“Because you’re being vulnerable in front of someone?” You nodded, unconsciously playing with your fingers. “Look at me, please.” You did, biting your lip to hold your tears in. 

“You are allowed to be vulnerable. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to be scared. You shouldn’t have to hide your feelings from your friends. I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us.” 

You nodded, staying silent, focusing on how Jake had moved his hand from the back of your head to your cheek to rub his thumb back and forth on your cheekbone. 

Your silence broke his heart a little bit, making him think you didn’t trust him. But he knew he had to be patient with you. 

He goes to move his hand away but you hold it there. “I thought I was over it…” 

“Over what, Sweetheart?” 

“The accident…” 

Jake pushed some hair behind your ear, “What accident?” 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He wiped them away as he spoke softly, “Take your time…” You nodded, swallowing as you tried to catch your bearings. 

“A year before I was stationed with you, I was flying a mission. It was dangerous, but still fairly routine. On my way out, I got hit. It completely destroyed my weapons system. Before I could get back up, I was hit again. This time it took out my engine.” You took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. 

“We were dropping altitude fast and my WSO and I had to eject. We landed on a beach, we unbuckled so fast,” you chuckled, remembering the relief you and Diego felt before the shit hit the fan.

Jake smiled a little bit at the sound, but dropped it when you started talking again.

“However the jet had also crashed onto the beach too. The fuel had leaked and caused an explosion. I covered my WSO, and a piece of scrap metal lodged itself into my back.” 

Jake’s eyes widened, more dots connecting in his mind, “You’re the pilot the squad was talking about at the bar…” 

You nodded, wiping your eyes, “Jake, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just… when I was in recovery, if I wanted to fly again, I had to go through therapy. And I haven’t had an attack in a year…” You got choked up again, hot tears rolling down your face, “Hang, I’m so sorry.” 

He shook his head, using both of his hands to wipe your face, “Hey, don’t be sorry. Do I wish you would have told me sooner? Hell yeah, but I understand why you didn’t.” You just nodded and relaxed into his hands.

“What happens when you have an attack?” 

You took a sharp inhale through your nose before sighing it out, “It depends. I sometimes get flashbacks of the beach, everytime I close my eyes I just see fire and it’s fucking terrifying. Other times, when it gets really bad, I can feel pain in my back, but that’s rare.” 

You bit your lip a little as you looked away, and Jake knew, “That happened tonight didn’t it?” You nodded, coughing a little bit, “Yeah, uh, yeah it did.” 

“Was it because we talked about-” 

“No," you said quickly. "W-well, I mean kinda… yeah. But there was a bonfire happening on the beach, and just the two things… my brain went into panic mode. Before you ask, I don’t really know what triggers it. But during dogfight football-” 

Jake’s eyes widened and he dropped his hands, “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” 

“Exactly, Jake, you had no idea. It’s not your fault. It was just the pressure on my scar made me panic, and I was back on that damned beach. But I’m not mad or upset with you because you had no idea. So don’t beat yourself up, please.” 

Jake nodded, bringing you into a hug again, being mindful of the scar. “Jake, you can touch it. I know I’m safe.” He said nothing and brought a hand to run over the covered scar before tightening his hug. 

“Can you tell me about him? Your WSO?” 

You nodded, “Diego Harding, call sign Tundra. He has a wife and a son.”

“That’s why you-” 

“Yeah, that’s why I covered him. He had a family to go back to.” 

“What about you?” 

You sighed again, using Jake’s shoulders to sit up, “Most of my family served. My dad was killed in action when I was young. My mom died when I was a teenager, leaving Piers to raise me for a little bit. Then Piers goes and sacrifices himself… so I didn’t have anyone to come home too.” 

You shrugged and got off his lap, but snuggled into his side.

He rubbed lazy circles on your bicep. “Well now you do.” You looked up at him confused, “What?” 

“You’ve got me to come home to, and I’ve got you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Don’t get sappy on me, Seresin.” He just chuckled.

It was silent for a moment. 

“Promise me that you’ll do your best to fly back to me,” he asked in a hushed whisper as if he were telling you a secret.

“Only if you do,” you whispered back.

He held out his pinky, “I promise.” You nodded, interlocking your pinky with his, “I promise too.” 

“Can’t break that now, you know,” he chuckled, squeezing your pinky a little. You giggled a little before yawning, “I know, cowboy.”

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Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 14: Never is the Echo of Forever

AN: I am so sorry to anyone who has been waiting for this. It has been a million years and I have no excuses except life. I am back in my happy place now (excessive dysfunctional daydreaming about a lifelong obsession) and I'm pretty sure that will mean more regular updates. Thank you to anyone who still cares. I appreciate you!

Cast your mind back to the distant, ancient days of Chapter 13

Never is the echo of forever- 1956

The house was in a state of muted chaos. Elvis had got home late the night before and, after presenting his mother with his laundry, acting the fool, devouring all the food as fast as they could make it, and declaring himself not at all tired and wanting to go out, he had then crashed flat out and been sleeping ever since. They were tiptoeing around, but it didn’t look like anything short of a car crashing through his bedroom was going to wake him.

“He’s just run himself ragged,” Mrs Presley muttered as Chancy wandered into the kitchen. “You know what he’s like about sleepin’ when he’s home. Lord knows what he gets up to when no one’s watchin’ out for him.” She paused for a moment and put hand on her head like she was holding in her fear and worry.

“He’s got lots of people watching over him. There’s Red, Gene and Junior, and that Colonel is always watching him.”

Chancy couldn’t help the grumbling tone in her voice. That man had infiltrated every aspect of Elvis’ life and his presence could be felt all the time, even when his name was not spoken. Elvis himself reinforced it, reminding them that they wouldn’t have what they had now if it wasn’t for the Colonel.

“I mean someone who knows what he’s like and what he needs. Give him half a moment and he’ll be talking those boys into doing something foolish. And don’t get me started on that Colonel…”

Chancy didn’t like to see Mrs Presley upset, but it was nice to see a little excitement in her. She had been quiet and a little blue like a dull overcast day. When Elvis was gone doing his shows and venturing further and further to places like New York, Las Vegas and Hollywood, it was like all the fire in the house was banked down to barely warm ash. They all just waited for a focus and a purpose again.

As if he could sense the need for him, Elvis appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. His head was tilted back, and he squinted through barely opened lids. There was a crease down his cheek from the pillow she had left him buried in. 

“What’s all the fussin’ about?” he mumbled, stumbling over to the counter and giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I thought someone was getting killed in here with all this carrying on.”

“Oh hush up, you,” Mrs Presley retorted, giving him a smack across his bare shoulder as he snickered and scooted out of her reach. “What d’you think, Cha-Cha, sounds like someone don’t want breakfast today, huh?”

Elvis pouted at Chancy as he moved across to her and draped himself over her back.

“Yep, that’s what it sounded like to me too,” Chancy agreed, giggling as he moaned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“Aw, have a heart!” he whined. “I ain’t had nothing worth eating in weeks!” He started gnawing on Chancy’s shoulder, which was funny until she started to feel teeth through her blouse.

“Ow, quit it!” she cried, pinching him on the side. He grabbed her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides and squeezing the breath out of her.

“Elvis, you stop that! You’ll hurt her! She’s only a teeny tiny thing!” Mrs Presley swatted at him and he held out his arms in submission, giving Chancy time to dart out of the kitchen. She swung a left into the living room, but Grandma Minnie was in there and looked up a little alarmed as she came barrelling in. Turning, she lost valuable time and crashed into Elvis’ chest, sending them both into the wood paneled wall of the hallway.

“Aw he- heck,” he groaned, not so hurt that he forgot to fear the wrath of his mother if he cursed. 

“Aw, poor baby,” Chancy murmured. “Let me look, baby, let me look.” 

Pouting, he let her coo over the red mark on his shoulder, only for her to promptly take a sharp nip with her teeth and run off again.

“Daddy, stop her! Get her!” Vernon smiled tightly, but stepped aside as Chancy ducked past him in the dark hallway and headed for the bedroom. Having trapped herself in a corner, she snatched up one of the teddy bears and held it in front of her like a shield. 

“Uh uh, he can’t help you now,” Elvis warned, feinting a move to the left that had her skirting the bed and cowering in the corner. He snatched the bear from her hands and launched it across the room with a punch. “Get lost, you SOB, trying to move in on my girl.” 

“I'm not your girl,” she reminded him, “I’m the ‘daughter of a family friend’.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed her by the chin, pulling her forward until their foreheads were pressed hard together and she couldn’t focus without going cross-eyed.

“Honey, if I got mad every time some reporter called me something in the press I wouldn’t have time for nothing else. We just gotta roll with the punches, you know.” 

“They called all of those showgirls in Las Vegas your dates,” she mumbled, trying not to smile as he pursed his lips so that they kissed as she spoke. 

“Hell, just goes to show they don’t know what they’re talking about.” He smirked and she knew he would have an answer for everything. He had clearly prepared, but then, all those evenings at home watching ‘What’s my Line’ and ‘I Love Lucy’ with his folks had given her plenty of time to do the same. 

“You mean when they called that other girl, the rich one, just your friend?” He pulled back with a look of distaste, which she knew meant that he was getting annoyed. 

“Now, you’re just trying to trick me, nagging away ‘til I say something wrong because you got me tied up in knots. You know, you know I hate that, honey, it’ll just end up with us both mad. Can’t you just let me enjoy being home?” 

“Home? Can it be home when you’re hardly ever here?” 

The fury in Elvis’ eyes when he lost his temper was not hot, but bitter cold, creating a thick, impenetrable wall of ice between them. Chancy wanted to hold back her words, but they kept spilling out of her like water, like the stinging tears she had fought against when she saw all the photos in the magazines of Elvis with his arms around showgirls or play fighting with that rich heiress, while she was shut away in this dormant house doing her homework. 

The slam of the bedroom door behind him made her flinch, but otherwise the pervading chill that had begun in his eyes set into her bones too and she was motionless as she stared off into absolutely nothing. 

A little while later, he came back into the room presumably to dress after breakfast. She didn’t move, couldn’t move, aware of him only as a blur against the pink flowery wallpaper. Finally, with a sigh, he dropped onto the bed just behind her and pushed his face against her shoulder. The skin where his mouth was pressed was the hottest part of her, the only part that didn’t feel like a stone statue.

“You know that whole stretch in Vegas was a drag for me. Like playing in a graveyard with all those old bones and jewelry. And just about everybody saying the boy’s crashin’ and burnin’, predicting it’s all going down in flames. S’what they all want, you know, for me to be this gimmick, this flash in the pan that fizzles out. A- a- and maybe I needed some distraction. I had to look like I was having fun, see, like it didn’t bother me none what was happenin’. Those girls out there are wise, they’re working girls- I- I mean, they have careers and everything, and they know it’s good for business to be in the papers. S’all it was, honey, really.” He turned his face, his nose grazing the crook of her neck and he shifted so that he could tuck his face in there, breathing heavily so that she had no choice but to wriggle. 

“But it ain’t nice, what you said,” he mumbled quickly, once she had writhed and was facing him, “about this not being home. This is about all I’m working for, doing right by Mama and Daddy, taking care of everyone, and you. You know that.”

“I didn’t mean this ain’t your home,” she returned mulishly in a low voice. “Of course it is. I just-” She exhaled in frustration. “I just miss you, is all.” 

“Don’t much seem like it,” he sighed, dropping back onto the bed. “You been mean and moody with me since I got back.” She tightened up, drawing up to retaliate with her own accusation, but the truth in his words poked a hole in her inflated self-righteousness. How could she blame him for being away so much when she seemed to be making sure that being at home was as unpleasant as possible?

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, letting it rush out of her before her defensive mind could stop it. 

“Nope, it’s not enough,” he replied in a deep voice. “Show me.” She hesitated, confused, but in tune enough with him that her cheeks started to feel very hot. He lazily grabbed her fingers with his, tugging her forward a little. “Show me how much you missed me, Cha Cha.” 

Chancy glanced around at the shady interior of the bedroom. They had to keep the shades down all the time when Elvis was home otherwise the windows became a nightmarish mush of faces pressed up against the glass. Normally, the room was kept immaculate, but Elvis' late night arrival had caused an explosion with the bedroom as ground zero. She stared at his white buck shoe upended on the other single bed, which was otherwise made up, a stark and careless admission that they were not sleeping in separate beds like everyone tried to pretend. 

“I-” Her nervous expression faded into embarrassed annoyance as he snorted and laughed that irrepressible belly laugh, hand covering his face. She felt the blush spread down from her hairline and tried to snatch away from his loose grip, which abruptly tightened. 

“Aw no, come here, c’mon, little baby. Things I gotta do to get a handle on you, I tell ya.” His arms slid around her back and he drew her down onto him, overcoming all her resistance. They kissed lazily, lips brushing and grazing against each other, which felt decadent in the middle of the day with the family just outside the door and probably fans on the other side of the wall. 

It was times like these that she knew that the reports in the magazines and newspapers were not true. They couldn’t be. No one could experience this, be part of this, and risk it. 

Chancy thought about the boys at school, the older college boys and the men from the naval base that some of her friends dated. She couldn’t even imagine feeling the same way with one of them, that hot, intense drag that pulled from her stomach and surely joined some way with him. 

Laying on top of him, smelling his still drying cologne and his hair oil, and marveling at the way the light made his long, fair, natural lashes seem translucent, she felt encased in a hot, airless box of certainty. This was what she was intended for; all her life until now a pathway to this destination. Showgirls be damned. 

“Now, don’t you feel better?” He tapped her lightly on the nose, followed by wiggling and playing her butt like bongos. “Tell you what, why don’t you go put on a little make-up and we’ll go out and see some folks. I wanna visit with Mr Phillips and say hi to ole Dewey… ”

“But I’m… I am wearing make-up,” she said in a small voice. 

“Oh… I guess I just got used to how it is out in Vegas… Boy, those girls were done up all day long.” He whistled. “Some of ‘em looked like movie stars just taking out the garbage.” He cupped his hand around her face and squinted appraisingly. “You’re so pretty that you’d blow ‘em out of the water with a little more war paint, honey, damn the torpedoes.”

Fighting embarrassment, hurt and amusement, she shook her head, which was still being clutched by his fingers. 

“I sometimes think even you don’t know what you’re saying half the time,” she remarked. 

“But you always understand me,” he pointed out smugly, poking out his tongue and raising his eyebrows. 

“I don’t like to think about what that says about me,” she replied airily, getting up and fetching her makeup. 

“It says that you were made for me, baby, only for me. And I was made for you.” He padded across the floor in his socks and watched her as she studied herself in the mirror. “You gotta make your eyes more dramatic. You know, one day I’m gonna take you out there to Las Vegas, it will make you flip your lid, I tell you what for sure. We’ll get all dolled up, get your hair and make up all done up properly-” Chancy flinched slightly, but tried to suppress it. “Watch ‘em fall over their asses then! They won’t be saying… What was it, ‘jug of corn liquor at a champagne party’, sonsofbitches.” Their reflections locked eyes. “Sorry, baby. There now, look at that, got myself my very own glamor girl right here at home.”

__________________________________________________________

Standing in the kitchen, Chancy looked out at the busy street out front and started a little as Alberta came back in from taking drinks out to the guests. Remembering why she was in there in the first place, she grabbed a plate of Mrs Presley’s peanut butter cookies as she had been asked and laughed when she and Alberta had to do a funny little dance to avoid crashing into each other. 

By the time Chancy got out to the patio, Mrs Presley was putting her hand over her eyes as Elvis clambered through the churned mud and piles of earth where there would soon, hopefully, be a pool next to the shell of what was going to be the pool house/garage. Chancy’s little sister Alicia and a couple of Elvis’ younger cousins were gamboling after him like little baby goats and Mrs Presley was worrying that they were all going to fall and hurt themselves. Mr Presley grunted a quiet noise in agreement and put his hands in his pants pockets.

“Cha-Cha, honey, get them to come back now before they break an ankle.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chancy eyed the mud dubiously and then trudged across the flattened lawn in her saddle shoes. She walked past a couple of girls a little younger than her that she didn’t recognise standing off to the side of the patio and glanced at them curiously as she passed.

Elvis’ young cousin Billy had managed to slip and fall onto his back by the time Chancy made it over to the mounds of soil and he was wiggling his arms and legs about like an upturned turtle while Elvis stood at the top of the pile laughing at him.

“What’cha doing, looking over your kingdom?” she called, sliding her hands into the secret pockets she had sewn into her skirt.

“It’s looking pretty good,” he grinned. He reached out a hand. “C’mon, honey, come up and see.”

“But your mama…” She couldn’t resist that mischievous sparkle in his eyes and grabbed his hand, letting him pull her up onto the pile of earth.

It was a strange kind of kingdom, the lawn sloped down so they were still looking slightly up at the people on the patio and the overhanging roof of the one storey house. Over to the left was the expanse of the empty lot next door and to the right was the cluttered space of the carport. Chancy realized there were a couple more girls standing there too.

“Who are those girls?” she asked, as Elvis wrapped his arms around her rib cage a little too tightly, fingers tapping a calypso against her side.

“Huh? Oh, just fans, baby. Don’t worry about them.” He mashed his lips into her cheekbone and gave her a couple of baby bird pecks afterwards. “What d’you think about our new swimming pool?”

“Needs more water,” Chancy pronounced pensively. He laughed his hiccupping giggle and squeezed her even tighter.

“I missed you, funny girl.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck making weird farm animal noises and she made a pretense of trying to fight him off, but they both knew that she didn’t really want that.

“Hey,” he pulled back suddenly and leant down to grab a chunk of earth. “D’you think I’d be able to hit Red in the ass with this from here?”

“I think you’d probably hit my Grandma or a window,” she returned. He looked indignant but he dropped the dirt.

“Where’s your faith, baby? I could make that shot no problem. I- I’m gonna show you. When there’s less people around I’ll show ya and you’ll see. How you gonna make it up to me then, huh?”

Chancy turned from the cluster of people on the brick patio and looked into his face, just inches away from her own. His thick mascaraed lashes were obscuring his eyes as he stared at her mouth and she could feel his breath as little, fast puffs of air against her lips.

“Anyway you like,” she heard herself murmuring. She saw the surprise on his face at the same time as it flashed inside herself. Sometimes it was like that, they had become mirrors of each other. He could tell her what she was feeling even as it was unfurling in her and vice versa.

“Aw, it sounds like my baby missed her guy,” he observed, even as she was thinking the same thing.

“It’s getting hard to miss you,” she returned. “Every time I turn on the radio you’re there. Television, you’re there. Newspaper… Oh, there you are!”

He frowned, pouting a little and pulling back from the waist as he looked down on her.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,”

“It’s not, I just prefer the real thing,” she replied softly. He smiled at her gently, his cheeks round like apples.

“You got the real thing, you know that.”

Elvis glanced over suddenly as his mother called to them to come down before they ended up in the hospital. He quickly helped Chancy down the hill with his arm around her shoulder, grabbing up Billy by the front of his shirt as they passed by and tugging him along too.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna have a swimming pool, Elvis,” Alicia remarked, nudging into Chancy like she couldn’t walk in a straight line. “I don’t know nobody with a swimming pool.”

“Anybody,” Chancy murmured at her under her breath.

Elvis grinned down at Alicia and gave her a wink.

“You gotta promise you’ll come test it out for me and make sure it’s good enough, Lil’un. Maybe we can get your sister into one of those fancy two-piece swimsuits…” He pulled back and ran his eyes up Chancy from the back; she caught it as she looked over her shoulder to see why he’d stopped, and immediately shoved him.

“Ow!” he laughed, tugging her back against him. “Can’t fault a fella for lookin’!”

“Yes, I can,” she returned airily, flipping her hair over her shoulder and elbowing him in the sternum one last time.

“Hey, Elvis?” one of the girls called from over by the carport. It was as if they were doubling in number every time Chancy looked over.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Elvis murmured to Chancy, giving her waist a squeeze before turning and jogging over to the girls. Billy followed, of course, like always.

“I bet they all want to be his girlfriend,” Alicia remarked, looking back at the mound of earth. “But none of ‘em will get to swim in that pool.”

Chancy snorted in spite of herself, dragging her eyes away from where Elvis was tilting his head and smiling winsomely at a girl in three quarter length trousers. Chancy knew that stance of his, that head tilt, and that damn smile. Even looking at it from afar made her tummy flutter.

Grabbing her sister’s wrist, she tugged her back up to the patio where the Presleys, Billy’s parents the Smiths, Grandma Minnie, and Grandma were now sitting at a garden table drinking lemonade. They were talking about the neighbors and how welcoming they had been, though Mrs Presley said that they were a little different to what she was used to.

“Well, as long as they’re good, moral, god-fearing people,” Grandma intoned into the rim of her glass of lemonade.

Chancy could barely stand it, listening to them talk about people from the old neighborhood- who was sick, who had died and whose children had gotten into trouble. It felt as if all she did was sit with the older folks and listen to them talk like she was a little child not allowed to wander far, instead of an almost high school graduate and woman of eighteen. 

With school wrapping up, a lot of the kids had been getting together, having study sessions, dance parties, and picnics over at Riverside. Chancy had been trying to join in, even though she had drifted away from her gang of friends in the past few months. It was hard to stay part of a circle when everyone was paired off and going on group dates, and you were neither single nor paired up. Her friends had been sweet though, inviting her along and leaving her to converse with the odd visiting cousin or an older brother home on leave. It was a compromise, though not a particularly satisfying one. 

Until the night Elvis called from the road in one heck of a bad mood. He was mad at Gene, who had embarrassed him somehow, and he was mad at the hotel people, who couldn’t take a joke, and he was mad at Red for getting into another fight that Elvis had to pay to smooth over, and he was mad at the newspapers for saying such awful things about him. Mainly, however, he was mad at Chancy. 

How was he supposed to focus on his work and deal with everything when he had his mother telling him that Chancy had been going out all times of the day and night? Bad enough he had Mama worrying over him every second of the day, but now she was fretting over Chancy too? 

It wasn’t an argument, because that needed two people and Elvis had clearly been having it out with her in his head for a while before he called. She was just there to hear the denouement. He had decided that the real reason she had wanted to stay in Memphis was not to be with him, but to stay at school and carry on her social life, dating and fooling around with her silly friends, and so she might as well leave straight after graduation and go to live with Grammy, who had stayed on in Mississippi to grieve with Uncle Stan’s wife after he passed following his surgery. 

No matter how hard she tried to plead her case, he was immoveable, his voice that cold, hard machine gun fire that she hated, words short and spat like bullets. 

Yet, now he was home, and her sweet Elvis was back, that cold stranger on the phone a distant memory. Except her cases were packed in the bedroom, ready for her to leave straight after her graduation tomorrow. She had been hoping so desperately for a reprieve, for Elvis to have one of his change of hearts and tell her to stay, that she had not really considered what she was going to do in Mississippi with everyone a stranger apart from her aunt, grandmother and little sister; no school to occupy her time, and her secret boyfriend/close family friend so far away from her in every way. 

“Excuse me,” she murmured, standing quickly and biting down hard to keep a pleasant amiable expression on her face as she stepped back into the house. She made it to the bedroom, but once she sat down on the end of one of the beds, the tears that had been stinging at the back of her eyes in the backyard were stuck back there. She felt too tense to even cry, everything stretched too tight. Maybe her body was just tired of crying, it was such an effort and never seemed to make anything any better. 

There was a gentle tap on the door and Chancy immediately sat up straight and smoothed her skirt over her lap. 

Mrs Presley peeped her head around the door, flashing that smile that changed her naturally somber looking face into something playful, sweet and welcoming. Chancy had always prided herself on her ability to evoke that smile. Maybe not as easily and quickly as Elvis could, but almost. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” she said, waiting for Chancy’s nod of assent before she came right in, even though it was her house. “You came running in here so fast I thought you might be sickening for somethin’.” She tilted her head, her eyes scanning Chancy with a supernatural, almost tangible gaze. 

“I’m fine, I guess the sun was in my eyes and it gave me a little headache, that’s all.” 

“You are sick,” Mrs Presley murmured in concern, putting her hand on Chancy’s forehead like she was a little girl. The tears finally surged. It had been so long since Chancy had felt like anyone’s child. 

“Aw, Cha Cha,” Mrs Presley murmured, lowering her palm from Chancy’s cool forehead to her knotted hands on her lap. She dropped down beside Chancy on the end of the bed, nudging her with her shoulder. Chancy leant against her a little, enjoying the soft warmth at her side. “You’re goin’ to start me off something awful. Then Elvis’ll come in here and find us both carrying on like babies.” She did an uncanny impression of a baby wailing that had Chancy laughing even as mascara-stained tears spilled onto her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed, drawing out one of her hands from beneath Mrs Presley’s to try and staunch the flood from her eyes. 

“Don’t you worry, honey, I’d’ve liked to have cried my heart out when Elvis told us you were going down to visit with your folks. He said I was taking on so much it was as if you were my own.” She squeezed Chancy’s hands in an unspoken addition to that sentence. 

“But I understand what it is to have to take care of your family and have ‘em countin’ on you.” After a pause, she broke out the blinding smile again. “And, Lord, it’s only two weeks. I don’t know why I’m getting all ahead of myself. You’ll call though, to let me know you’re all right?” Chancy was a little slow to respond, trying to digest the words. She puzzled over why Elvis had told his parents that she was only going on a short trip to visit family. Maybe it was easier than telling them the truth. By the time she was down there, he could say that she had decided to stay a little longer, then a little longer, and consequences could unspool without him ever having to be upfront and risk a confrontation. 

“I’ll call all the time,” she nodded, trying to catch up to the conversation. “And please, call me. I don’t know what I’ll be doing with my time down there now that school is done.”

“Well, I know what we’d all like you to be doing,” Mrs Presley remarked, giving her a pointed look, again a hand squeeze substituting all the words she knew she shouldn’t really say. They sat there a few minutes more, quiet and yearning in their own ways for things they felt too guilty to ask for out loud. 

Later, after dinner, Mr Presley drove Grandma and Alicia back to the motel they had splashed out on so they could come and watch Chancy’s graduation. Chancy watched them go, feeling oddly removed, out of step with their happiness at her achievement. How could she celebrate something that brought so much heartache?

“I wanna go for a ride,” Elvis said suddenly as the audience on the tv laughed at the panelist’s story. His mother made a comment about it being late, but Elvis dismissed it flatly, an undercurrent of tension in his body as he shoved his feet into his shoes and went to grab a jacket. 

Chancy gave Mrs Presley a small smile like she could make up for his irritation, but Gladys was already looking away with the same moody pout on her face. There was no interceding between them, for good nor bad. 

Elvis grabbed her hand as they stepped out the back door, pulling her along so that she had to almost jog to keep up. Under the light of the carport, she couldn’t make out if there were any of the knots of girls that were becoming a permanent fixture outside. Even though it was late, sometimes they crept around the yard in the dark, stealing grass from the lawn and tapping on windows like stray kittens turning feral. 

Chancy watched Elvis straddle his motorcycle, his brooding face obscured by his hanging forelock of hair. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away as he leant down to fiddle with the fuel cap, knowing he had to be in the right mood for you to mess with his hair. 

“Couldn’t we take the ca-” she began, before stopping short as he looked at her sharply from beneath his brow. She didn’t want to fight on her last night and leave nothing but a bad aftertaste behind her. Instead, she hurriedly tied her headscarf and climbed up behind him. 

Chancy pressed herself against his solid warmth, tightening her arms around his waist, making out that she was having trouble keeping a grip on his leather jacket. This was the reason that she continually risked her grandma’s ire and willingly caused Mrs Presley to fret by climbing into the motorcycle whenever Elvis asked, for this- the chance to grab hold of him as tightly as she could, knowing he couldn’t slip away or be taken from her. A pang gripped her chest as she considered whether this was the last time she would be able to do it.

Elvis rode around for a while, seemingly aimlessly, but Chancy noted that they passed her old apartment building, places his family had lived while she had known them, Humes, Crown Electric, and Sun. Back and forth, zig zagging, and doubling back until she was almost dizzy with it. 

Finally, he pulled over near the river and, whereas they hadn’t spoken on the motorcycle because of the roar of the engine, now it was because it was impossible to know where to start. 

Elvis climbed off the motorcycle and tugged down the front of his black leather jacket. She watched him scoop a small rock from the ground and weigh it in his palm before he threw it into the dark, a faint plop the only indication that it made it to the water. He had that faraway look in his eye like he was thinking about things too distant from her understanding. That had been happening more and more, and she resented it.

Scuffing her shoes into the scrubby ground, she wrapped her arms around his waist again, pressing her cheek into his spine and inhaling the smell of leather. If she closed her eyes, she could stop time and nothing would change. She wanted to resist when he tugged her arm loose and turned so that she was plastered to his front, but she still melted at the soft, slow drag of his lips against hers. Maybe this was actually the moment she wanted to stretch into infinity. 

Gradually, his warm lips made their way down her jaw and tickled her neck and he squeezed her to him, practically bending her backwards. She had to pull away before she snapped into two.

“I can’t believe that I’m finally graduating tomorrow,” she remarked, her voice stark and out of place in the still hum. “I feel like I was waiting for it for so long, but now that it’s happening…” She tucked a wisp of hair into the scarf she had hurriedly tied under her chin to protect her fresh salon do, a graduation gift from Mr and Mrs Presley. 

“S’natural,” he shrugged, rubbing his palms up and down her hips. “I couldn’t wait to get out of school, but, soon as it happened, God almighty, it scared me to death, trying to figure out what I was gonna do.” 

“Boy, I hope I’m not as unlucky as you turned out to be,” she remarked dryly, shooting him a sideways look. He snorted softly and tugged at the corner of her scarf, making her throw up her hands to keep it intact. 

“Careful, I don’t know if it’s set properly.”   

“It’s set plenty,” he replied coolly, nostrils flaring. “Might as well use it to hammer in nails. Why’d you go and let ‘em cut off so much anyway?” 

Chancy nodded wryly to herself, having known this was coming ever since his lukewarm appraisal of her hair when he arrived home. She didn’t let herself get too hurt. It often felt like he wanted to be able to put them all in a closet somewhere while he was gone and then take them back out safe and unchanged when he returned. 

“Your mama took me to get it done,” she reminded him. “And it's not that short, it’s just the curl.” He grunted and took to scuffing his feet at the ground near his motorcycle. “Everyone else said they liked it.”

“I bet they did. Anyone in particular or you casting the net wide these days?” He muttered through his pout, churlishly tossing another rock that bounced off the dirt nearby.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You tell me what it’s s’posed to mean, Chancy. I- I don’t have none of the answers, I- I- I don’t know where you been when I been callin’ and what the hell you been doing. Or who you been doing…”

It was nothing new, this old well worn routine, the same bitter accusations they had been tossing back and forth for the past few months. Weak reasons they fumbled for to explain the unsettling distance that they felt between them, stretching and deepening relentlessly.

This time though, something in Chancy snapped; she almost heard the plink as if the last fraying thread twisted and tore apart. She could feel her face screwing up as she turned and shoved him with all her might. He managed to catch himself before he stumbled back into his bike and landed in a heap of bones, steel and leather, but in that moment, she was almost sorry about it. 

“That’s a damn rotten thing to say!” she cried, balling her fists to stop herself from snatching up the nearest rock. “You’ve no right to be so nasty!” She stumbled, trying to hold herself still, but the fuse had been lit and she had no way of containing all the fiery rage and hurt that was spitting and hissing from her now. She started stalking off down the side of the road.

Elvis had been momentarily stunned by her reaction, but he snapped back into himself as she marched off and, to her utter fury, sounded almost amused as he called: “And where the hell d’you think you're going?!”

“Away from you!” she bellowed back, yanking off her head scarf and throwing it onto the ground. It landed with as much force as a feather landing on cotton candy, which infuriated her. She wanted to stamp her feet and thrash around, to scream at the top of her voice and make the buildings shake. 

For so long, Chancy had worked hard to be good and defy the blood inside her; to shed the whispers and condemnation that had plagued her as a child because of her parents. Grandma had taught her all about salvation, being saved and reborn, and she had willingly submitted to the water, to the cleansing, to be reborn as her grandmother’s child. And with Elvis, she had walked that tightrope being the good girl he could bring home to Mother and the good time girl he could have fun with. It was starting to feel like she was being stretched so tight at all corners that she was beginning to tear.

“C’mon now, honey, don’t get all up on your high horse.” He grabbed her arm to turn her, which was a shock since the blood was thundering so loudly in her ears that she hadn’t heard him approach.. 

“No!” She wrenched herself free, hurting more than helping herself. “Leave me alone!” 

“What you got yourself so worked up for, huh? You’re gonna spoil that damn hair you love so much if you keep carrying on like that.” 

Heated by his mocking tone and his smirk, Chancy shoved him again, freezing at the icy fury that sparked in his eyes as he whacked his elbow on the wall. 

“Son of a bitch! Get on the goddamn motorcycle!” he yelled, gripping his arm.

“I ain’t going anywhere with you!” she roared back, the words echoing back to her from empty lots, brick walls, and stark, resilient trees. “I ain’t going anywhere… with you.” She echoed her own words softly, hearing them, understanding them, tasting them like bitter medicine. 

“You’ve about lost your damn mind,” he snarled. “What the hell are you going to do out here on your own, huh?”

Through blurred, tearfilled eyes, she watched the moonlight gleam off his jacket as he strode away, trying to match her heat and energy but falling short. Like a flame vying against lava. She could hear him muttering fast to himself, though she couldn’t make out the words. She didn’t care anyway. Let him say what he liked, let him badmouth her hair, call her crazy, accuse her of all kinds of nasty things, because she was done. Done! It was over. Everything was over!

Gradually, her speed and purpose began to fade as the rage curdled into sadness and the fuel soured into sorrow. There was a brutal, logical sense to everything ending at once. School had been the background to their romance, where she had spent her time daydreaming about them being together, about marriage and children, about being part of a whole, real family. Those dreams had been growing fainter and sliding further into the distance than even her imaginary eyes could make out as she had progressed through her senior year.  

Chancy shivered despite the mild air and glanced around at the black, sightless windows of the buildings around them. No matter what else he had said, Elvis had been right about one thing, she had no business hanging around here by herself. She looked over to where he was straddling his bike, his face creased in that deep sulking pout that usually had her scrambling to make amends and earn back his smile and love. This time there was no scrambling.

Silently, she walked towards him, gathering up her skirt in front and straddling the seat. He didn’t speak either, tilting his head slightly towards her, before starting the engine with a little more force than necessary.   

The motorcycle sped through the dark streets, the lights blurry and refracted in Chancy’s tear-filled eyes. She squeezed his jacket in her fists and closed her eyes as the breeze whipped her hair into her face. 

As they rolled down the wide suburban street, Chancy glanced up at the first floor window of one of the neighbours, seeing the teenage daughter standing silhouetted in the yellow light. They had never spoken, despite seeing one another every day. She wondered what the girl saw as she looked out at them. 

The lights were out in the house, Mr and Mrs Presley having gone to bed, but they had left on the light in the carport and it burnt Chancy’s eyes as she climbed off the bike and scraped the loose tendrils of her hair from her lips and eyelashes. Her cheeks were tight and tearstained and she wiped the loose drops under chin as she turned towards the back door. 

At the last minute, Elvis caught her hand, gently this time, and drew her back towards him. She didn’t fight, she had none left in her, and as soon as she made contact with his chest, she started to cry again. His arms squeezed her and he made shushing noises; she felt him stroking her hair so softly. 

“Shh, baby, shhh. S’posed to be a big girl now, all graduated and everything.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and tilted her face upwards, sighing indulgently as he tucked her hair behind her ears. “Look at this little baby’s face. Where those pretty brown eyes gone, huh, all puffed up like that.” 

“I never-” Her words were washed away by the unshed tears in her throat. She wanted to tell him that she had never stepped out on him, in spite of what he had heard. That she had always been true, even deep down in her heart. But what did it matter anyway? She was leaving tomorrow, suitcases packed and a cot made up for her in a bedroom she was going to have to share with her ten year old sister. He frowned slightly, waiting for her to finish, probably expecting her to beg him, prostrate herself and weep away what little self-respect she had left. She couldn’t do that. Not even for Elvis Presley.  

Instead, she let out an ironic laugh and shook her head, rubbing those swollen eyes he had teased her about. 

“I’ll just pull my hair in front of my face,” she joked. “See, not so short after all.” She tugged on her limp bangs, pulling them down over her brow. He looked at her for a long time, his full, pouty lips parted like he was about to speak.  

Before Elvis could spit out what he was thinking, there was a muffled giggle and some whispering. They both squinted towards the street, but it was difficult to make out anything in the dark from beneath the pool of light they were standing in.

Inside, the house was quiet and this stillness felt impenetrable as they walked through the wood paneled hallway towards the bedroom. Nothing felt real, Chancy was numb and swollen with tears and the heaviness of acceptance. Almost like carrying a heavy weight and then finally putting it down, the load still dragged at her like a phantom. She was not going to marry Elvis. She was not waiting for him. She didn’t have to hide and monitor what she said and where she went. She didn’t have to worry that her picture would show up in some magazine somewhere. She didn’t have to read about how many girls were after him and how he was eager to try them all. She didn’t have to do anything. She didn’t have to love him. Once she put down all of that, what was left?

Wearily, she wandered into the bedroom and, kicking off her shoes, she climbed onto the spare bed and curled up. She expected Elvis to go into the den and cool off; leave her to ‘stew in her own juices’ as she had once heard him joke when she had gone to bed after one of his friends brought a carload of girls to sit around and watch them play pool. 

Instead, the mattress on the other bed creaked as he sat down to undress. She listened to material rustling and the soft sound of him sighing as he pulled off his shoes. It went still and quiet. 

Minutes later, she was jostled as he climbed into bed behind her, his warm body spooning hers. She thought of pulling away, jabbing with sharp elbows into soft places, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was incapable of anything as she felt his hot breath against the arc of her neck and his lips pressing against the thumping of her pulse. 

Was she trembling or was it his hand as he spread it flat against her collar bone and smoothed it down her front, his luscious mouth nipping and pecking at her jaw as she tried to breathe, tried to think. She thought she heard him whispering, soothing her like a frightened animal as he stroked her sides, his thumbs circling her breasts, long fingers gripping her hips. 

The realisation sank into her mind, the way that the scant light in the darkened room gradually seeped into her eyes, what was happening. If it was over, if it was really over, then there was no more need to wait. She was never going to be his bride in white. She forced herself to keep breathing through the pang that gripped her chest at this thought. There would be time for grieving later. After. 

Blindly, she turned in his arms, kissing him back hard and angrily. Not angry with him, not anymore, but angry that there was no one to be angry with. He met and returned her intensity, tugging up her skirt as they kissed with bruising force, their noses bumping, breath heavy, and hearts aching. 

The weight of him, crushing her ribs and heating her core felt right, like an inevitability, and all her worries about being a good girl, about saving herself, about the future, evaporated as she felt his fingers pulling at the buttons on her blouse. He was shaking, but so was she, though not just with nerves. She helped him unfasten the last few buttons and writhed so that he could pull off the blouse, before pulling him down again, against her, into her, so tight and so heavy that she could not think or breathe. 

Her fingers tingled as she ran them down his shoulders, his sides and around his hips, his skin like velvet and desecration. He jerked and she felt it like a jolt of electricity between her thighs, a current that intensified and demanded more. She shivered, goosebumps rippling up her body as he tugged her skirt up, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.  

Elvis paused, eyes hooded in shadow, though she could almost feel them studying her intently. 

“Are you-” He cleared his throat, but still whispered, “Are you sure, honey?” She nodded, her face pressed into his shoulder, trying to pull him back down, wanting that suffocating, numbing weight and warmth against her. 

Chancy was burning so hot that she thought any tears she had left would evaporate from her skin. She trembled as she watched him climb awkwardly off the bed and hurry over to the bedroom door, turning the lock with a click. She was amazed he could think straight enough to remember, she certainly hadn’t. 

Back beside the bed, he whipped off his pants like it was a race and then threw himself back into bed, making her bounce on the mattress, and covered her body with his own. In the half darkness, he pulled back and she could see that little smile on his face, the one he got when he was embarrassed or out of his depth. It made her feel better that they were both on the same page. She clasped the sides of his face and pulled him down, only knowing that she always felt stronger, more whole, indestructible, when she was kissing him. 

Below her skirt, he trailed a bitten fingernail up the inside of her thigh, making a giggle against his lips and writhe in a way that seemed to please him. Beneath him, Chancy felt unable to suck enough air into her lungs as he thrust against her, still separated by her underwear. He kissed the side of her face as his fingers hooked into the legs of her panties and started to slide them down. He kissed her harder, almost as if he was trying to distract her from what was happening below the covers, as if she wasn’t completely covered in goosebumps. As if her skin wasn’t burning. As if her pulse wasn’t throbbing between her legs. 

At the first pinch, Chancy tried not to flinch.The girls had all whispered and worried about how painful it was supposed to be the first time. Some had heard horror stories from older sisters and cousins, and they had fretted and marvelled over it. One of the girls said her sister started bleeding so bad that she had to go to the emergency room and her parents had found out and sent her to relatives in Arkansas. She exhaled slowly, her fists clenched and pressed into his Elvis’ sides, trying to relax herself and let herself stretch to accommodate him, to make herself the perfect fit for him. To be perfect for him. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. She realised she had her eyes squeezed shut and she blinked them open, a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. “It’s okay, baby.” He nuzzled her nose gently with his own, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her lips. 

The burning ache subsided as he drew back, she let out a gasp of relief that she immediately regretted, but he seemed to misinterpret it, reassuring her, petting her as if she had been upset over the loss of him, telling her she was his pretty baby, and that they had plenty of time. It was only then that she realised that he hadn’t finished. 

Chancy wanted to ask him why, why he had stopped, why she wasn’t as desirable and irresistible to him as the other girls that he was enjoying, why he couldn’t have just given her this last thing before he cast her aside. Instead, when she opened her mouth, something completely different came out. 

“Elvis, I don’t want to go.” He stopped fussing over her, sliding so that he was lying on his side in the narrow bed and she was tucked up against him. She could still feel him pressing insistently into her hip.

“I know, baby, I don’t want you to go neither.” 

“But why-” 

“”I- I can’t help but feeling that things’ve been getting tough for you these past few months,” he murmured into her hair, making goosebumps break out across her scalp. “I’m working so much, ain’t hardly home, and- and it’s only natural that you have been… castin’ an eye on what you’ve been missin’.”

“No, that’s not-”

“I-it’s natural- normal for a young girl to wanna… see what’s what before- before she settles on a fellow,” he continued, sliding his palm down her ribs and rubbing her stomach, as if she hadn’t spoken. “She’s gotta make sure she’s not making a mistake, see if the grass is greener.” 

Chancy turned and studied his profile, trying to understand what he was saying to her, wondering why the three years between them somehow seemed so stretched and endless. He flashed her a small smile, his eyes darting up just for a minute to meet hers, to let her join in this scene that he was creating. 

“I don’t blame you, honey, really. I- I understand. You need this, a little time to experience the world and make sure that this is really what you want. That I’m really what you want.”

“I don’t have any doubts, Elvis, I don’t. I want to be with you.” It came out as a croak, because she knew that he had already made up his mind. 

“I know you do, honey, I know, but we need to take this time, you see that, don’t you? It’ll make us stronger in the long run, wipe out all those doubts and questions in that sweet little noggin of yours.” He kissed her hairline, letting his lips slide down to her temple, pressing dry, sweet kisses into her tearstained skin as he rubbed himself against her hip.

“Just a little while and then little ole us will be back in each other’s arms where we belong. I knew you were still my sweet little baby.” He pressed down as his palm grazed over her pubic bone and the heat built between them. “Still my perfect little baby, just for me, huh, ain’t you.” She threw her arms around his neck, murmuring sounds of pleasure as he pressed tighter and harder against her flank, the pain no longer so low down, but in her chest as her heart cracked and fissured into pieces. 

Two days later, the newspaper had a few columns about Elvis’ impromptu visit to Ellis Auditorium to wish good luck to all the High School graduates. They said he was accompanied by his mother and father to show his appreciation for his hometown, and entertain all the young men and girls who were excited to be starting their lives in the presence of their idol. “When pressed by our reporter,” the newspaper stated, “Presley said that he was too busy with his career to focus on dating, but it was clear that many of the girls present wished that they could be the one to change that.”

A week later, the same newspaper carried photos of “a certain dark haired beauty from Las Vegas” who was visiting as a guest at Elvis’ home and being escorted about the city as a “delightfully sinful ornament” on the back of his favourite Harley Davidson motorcycle. 

Sorry, my taglist is probably so out of date! Please let me know if you need an add or delete:

@richardslady121 , @dkayfixates , @fallinlovewithurlove , @notstefaniepresley , @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith , @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley , @savedrebelcreation , @lettersfromvenus, @littlehoneyposts , @joshuntildawn13 , @i-r-i-n-a-a , @from-memphis-with-love , @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @thatbanditqueen @amix1982

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 7 🍒

"Swimming in Stars"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2,256

Summary: you and Joel enjoy a little one-on-one time in the pool and discuss your concerns about your first time together..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), slow burn, talk of sex and expectations regarding reader's first time, talk of using protection (a must, y'all!), dry humping, reader's race not mentioned, reader wears a swimsuit, story takes place in summer 2003, no use of y/n

Author's Note: this chapter is super significant to me as it highlights just how important communication is when it's going to be a couple's first time together, and especially when there's an age gap.

Series Masterlist

Joel has one rule: that you take your time. He doesn't want to rush you or make you feel like he won't wait for you because honestly, as he tells you before you go your separate ways that same summer night, "You're worth waitin' for."

Naturally it's impossible for you to sleep that night. So much has happened in just a couple of weeks. It seems that the moment you've stepped outside of the safety of the environment you've known your whole life, you're seeing exactly what opportunities await you.

And you really want this opportunity with Joel.

Now the ball is entirely in your court. You call the shots. And you don't even know where to begin except you know you want to spend more time with him. You like Joel a lot, and you want to get to know him better.

You spend the rest of the weekend with your cousin before she leaves for an international flight. Truth is, you haven't spent much time together, and it's nice to get out of the house with her to go to the mall and the movies. But every other thought is about Joel. What's he doing right now? Is he thinking of you?

Your attention is easily diverted from the latest Fast and Furious movie, and when Sofia goes for a quick restroom break you pull out your phone and text Joel: Pool party tonight. Just us. 10 pm.

Putting your phone back in your purse your heart pulsates with excitement at the riskiness of the text. You're not that bold, but somehow he makes you so.

You let the rest of the movie distract you, but truth be told you can't remember the rest of it even five minutes after leaving the theater. It's not until you're back home that you see he's replied: I'll be there, sweetheart

Sofia leaves that evening, and you are alone. You get ready, wearing the same swimsuit as last time, knowing Joel liked you in it before. You don't know what to expect of the evening, because quite honestly you invited him over on a whim. 10 o'clock comes around a lot sooner than you think, and so you lounge out on a lounge chair float, watching the stars, trying to still the rapid beating of your heart.

You hear a knock at the side gate and then a hesitant swinging open of the gate door.

"You gonna join me?" you ask. You see Joel out of the corner of your eye and smirk. "Or are you just gonna stare?"

You hear the low rumble of his chuckle and it makes your heart melt. "I'm a visual guy. I like watchin' you like that. You look so damn pretty. I just about ran every red light all the way from Tommy's place just to get here to you."

Heat colors your skin. "And Sarah? Where's she?"

"At a friend's house."

That fact seems to hang in the air between you. Now you're alone together, the discussion from yesterday seems to be the elephant in the room, so to speak.

"So you're gonna watch?" you break the silence. "Or are you gonna join me?"

He takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs, a playful little smile on his lips. He looks so relaxed, so at ease in your company. "I didn't bring anything to swim in."

"You've got boxers on, right?"

"Maybe."

You chuckle, seeing that he's trying to be hard to read. You climb out of the pool and wrap a towel around your midsection, joining him on the lounge chair, in his lap. Your heart is beating like a bird trapped in a cage but it's so thrilling to finally be alone with him. He sits up and holds you, strong arms wrapping around you. In this moment you're both quiet, enjoying this tender moment. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, fingertips tracing your arms and your sides. When you kiss him it's soft and sweet, almost innocent, the tips of your tongues barely meeting.

"That night at our pool party," you tell him in an intimate whisper, "we were playing in the pool and when we hugged, I felt.. you know."

Joel slows his touch but doesn't stop. "I remember."

"Was that.. because of me?"

He gives a sarcastic little snort. "Sweetheart, your thighs were practically locked around my head. My thoughts of you were indecent. So yeah I was rock hard."

You shiver and he grabs you tighter. "That night, after I walked you home, I touched myself. I fantasized about you." It feels good to say it now, now that it's not a deep and terrible secret.

"Oh god, sweetheart. I did the same."

Every single drop of water in the pool cannot possibly douse the fire you feel in your veins for this man.

"What did you fantasize about me that night?" His breath is warm on your cheek.

"I fantasized about what you would feel like.. inside me."

A low growl escapes his throat. "You still want that from me? Want me inside?"

"Yes," you reply, even as a flurry of turmoil grows in your belly. "Soon," you reiterate.

This seems to calm him, as his breathing evens out, his gentle touch returns. "Might I ask one little favor, sweetheart?" His voice is tinged with honey. "Would you give me a little massage?"

Smiling, you brazenly straddle his lap, gently kneading his shoulders. You love the feel of his skin beneath your touch, and you marvel at how soft yet how strong he is capable of being. "You need someone to do this for you every day.."

And beneath you, you feel his desire stirring. Just a few light layers of clothing separate you. "If there were two of you, then yeah, I'd want this every day."

You laugh. "That's kinky. Why two of me? Are you saying I'm not enough on my own?" There's a teasing note in your voice.

"One of you to give me a massage and the other to make me a sandwich." He laughs as he ducks your playful whack. "What I meant to say is that with two of you.. there's more to admire?"

Nerves afire with your lively banter, you gently push your hips down on his. "Think of all the things you could do with two of me.."

His hands grip your hips firmly, squeezing. "Oh my damn god, sweetheart.. I want you so damn much," he growls.

"Then have me, Joel," you say, so easily, as if switching on a light. Your mind is clouded with lust, and every move you make is based purely on instinct rather than emotion. "You won't hurt me, will you?"

Joel sighs, his eyes soft even as he's hard other places. "Hell no. I'm gonna be so damn gentle with you."

You bite your lip, scooting off him a little to undo his belt but he gently stops you. "I need you to wait," he says.

You freeze. "What's wrong?"

"Sweetheart, you want it too fast. I'm going to give you what you want, but not like this." Frustrated, he buries his face in your neck. "God damn it I just wanna do the right thing by you."

"I guess there are a lot of specifics to work out," you murmur gently, caressing the nape of his neck.

"Such as?" he cuddles into your neck.

You feel a little embarrassed, but if you're going to eventually sleep with him you have to be able to be honest with him. "We have to think of where to do it, whether we should have a date beforehand to lead up to it. And I'm not on birth control, so we'd have to consider protection."

His hand caresses the small of your back. "We could do it at either your place or mine, and I like the idea of having a nice little romantic date beforehand." He gently traces the curve of your face with his fingertips. "I want you to feel safe with me, sweetheart. I'll get some condoms. Hell, we'll probably go through a whole box real quick."

You give a sigh of relief. "I like that we're talking about this, Joel. I don't want to go into this blind."

"I'm gonna be here for you every step of the way, even if you decide you don't want to go through with it," he swears. Looking away a moment he seems to collect himself. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"What do you mean? How would you hurt me?" you gently turn his face to look at you.

He sighs. "I don't want to be too much for you, too intense for you, especially when you've never had anyone else before. You don't know just how fuckin' bad I desire you."

"Joel.. when the time comes for us to be together, I'm going to trust you not to hurt me, not on purpose. I've heard the first time can hurt anyway, but that kind of pain will be worth it, to be with you."

He whispers your name and kisses you, stiffening when you pursue it with more passion, pressing yourself against him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "You're right. I want everything right now, but I'm not thinking. Oh god, I need a distraction," you whine. "A cold shower or something."

"A shower's out of the question just now, but I have the next best thing to cool you off," Joel chuckles and picks you up, carrying you bridal style over to the pool and it's only at the last second that you realize what he's about to do and you screech as he drops you into the water.

You surface, sputtering and wiping the water from your face. "What the hell?" Joel's gleeful chuckle sounds in your ears right before he splashes in beside you. He grabs you by the waist, both of you weightless in the water. He's rid himself of his clothes except for his boxer briefs.

"Come here," he says, kissing your lips. "You're one hell of a girl.."

He's easily forgiven. If anything you love that you've brought out this mischievous side of him. "And you're one hell of a man.." you wrap your arms around him, whispering in his ear. "And you let your guard down too easily," you tell him, pouncing on him and pushing him underwater before swimming away, laughing as you swim away.

He comes up and swims right after you, making you squeal. "You shouldn't have gotten in the pool if you didn't want to get wet." you warn him.

"Shouldn't have invited me over if ya didn't want me to get you wet," he quips, pressing you against the side of the pool where you're both semi-shrouded in darkness. "God, sweetheart, you do not know what you do to a man."

"What about what you're doing to me?" Pressed close together you feel his hardness, and now that it's just the two of you you're free to explore this, to feel the rigidity of his desire for you. "Joel.. please just rub up against me.." you ask.

This elicits another growl from him, and even in the darkness you can see the hunger in his eyes. He does as you ask, albeit gently at first, testing to see how much you want.

You gasp as you feel him, thinly veiled by the wet confines of your swim clothes. He knows exactly where you need his touch, and it's like a shock of electricity to feel that pressure on your clit. "Feels good.. right there," you whisper, clinging to him.

He kisses you deeply, pressing a bit harder, smiling when your breath hitches and becomes quicker. "You like this, sweetheart? Oh this ain't nothin' compared to the real thing."

"Joel," you whimper. "Keep going like this.. please.."

The water splashes around you as you try to keep your cries to a minimum. How can only touching feel so good? How many nerve endings can you possibly stimulate? It's as if you've never really known what your body can do, what it can become under someone else's touch.

Touching.. that's all it is. But it's enough to drive you to the edge. There's that familiar feeling, like when you're on a roller coaster and your heart leaps into your throat just before you take the first sharp dive. "Joel!" you moan, kissing him to muffle your sounds as you come: a quick, sweet shot of lightning in your veins.

As your body relaxes, Joel backs off so as not to overstimulate you, but keeps his arm around you, stroking your damp hair.

"Sorry if I was selfish," you mumble.

He laughs and puts his hand on your cheek. "You're not selfish at all. We both wanted it. And sweetheart, you look fuckin' angelic when you come." His voice is husky and sweet as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek.

You're still reeling from this experience, and in the aftermath of your orgasm you have clarity of mind, as if all your troubles have melted away. You know you'll be grateful to Joel forever. "What about you? You didn't even.."

He smiles. "Don't worry about me. You're more important."

"Are you gonna.. take care of it later?" you smirk.

"One of these days I hope you'll feel comfortable takin' care of me yourself," he smirks, making your heart do a flip flop, and you pull him closer before the night comes to an end.

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divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[ursemma]

Video games: chuck bass × f!reader

Warnings:

Being friends with benefits with Chuck Bass on a random summer break wasn't bad until you caught a disease called love. Willing to do anything to make him fall inlove with until you realise he's still in love with Blair.

Based on lana del rey's song video games

Swinging in the backyard

Pull up in your fast car

Whistling my name

Open up a beer

And you say, "Get over here

and play a video game"

I was swinging in my backyard, and I heard chuck calling my name "y/n" he came with a scotch glass in his hand, "wanna play our game?" i chuckled while walking towards him, our game meant a no string attached fuck.

Well atleast for him because it meant more than something to me.

I'm in his favourite sundress

Watchin' me get undressed

Take that body downtown

I wore his favourite purple sundress with a high slit, just how he likes it, "strip" he said and i started undressing under his intense gaze, hunger and lust flashed in his eyes as he kissed me, and the afternoon went just how we wanted.

I say, "You the bestest"

Lean in for a big kiss

Put his favourite perfume on

Go play your video game

"oh god you're the best" I said while trying to catch my breath. He leaned in for kiss and said, "I need to leave for work" I nodded at him and watched as he perfumed himself, "good luck" I wished him knowing how hard he was working, he gave me a smile and went for his work.

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I sighed deeply as I knew he would never love me back, I did everything I could to make him feel something about me but everytime I try, nothing works out. The reason I agreed to this FWB thing because I love him.

I still remember the day i was hanging out at a bar where I met him. The only thing he said was "you look lonely, mind if I join you?" And that's how we ended up in his bed.

All he asked was for simple fuck with no feelings but having attachment issues really didn't helped a bit.

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

The Upper East side was surely missing their it girl and the queen b, Heard the IT girl and the queen B are back in town from their trip to paris.

Well I hope S you've made your decision, surely you don't wanna walk down the campus single.

And as for B I heard our bad boy is single, but the question is his bad girl available though?

You know you love me,

Xoxo, Gossip Girl.

I sighed at the gossip girl blast, I mean she is true isn't she? He likes girls like Blair Waldorf.

Smart, independent, Queen B, pretty and beautiful, and me? I'm not even close to her.

Suddenly I got a text from chuck, telling me to be ready at 5, we've a party to attend, and my mood instantly lit up.

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

Is he trying? I don't know. I'm not getting my hopes high.

I got ready according to the theme, which was, saints and sinners masquerade ball. I don't know but I'm getting weird feelings of it.

Singin' in the old bars

Swingin' with the old stars

Livin' for the fame

We arrived at the ball and every one was busy dancing, and chit chatting.

I went to the drinks counter and drank whiskey, I heard flashing of cameras every where, you can see the paparazzis through the door.

My mind wondered to chuck. Where was he?

Kissin' in the blue dark

Playin' pool and wild darts

Video games

He holds me in his big arms

Drunk and I am seeing stars

This is all I think of

I heard everyone gasping, i went towards the crowd to see, chuck and Blair kissing and hugging eachother. His games.

I ran with tears running down my eyes and I ended up in a bar.

I finally calmed down, and decided to go home, but I bumped into someone and my purse fell down.

Him and I, we both bent down to pick it up at the same time and our hands brushed eachother, it felt weird.

I looked up and saw his beautiful ocean eyes and a smile that can light up the town.

"Hi I'm Nate Archibald" he said while grinning, and giving his hand for handshake, "I- I know, I mean hi I'm y/n l/n".

.

[regretmedaisy]

i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part II

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, she's a bit anxious, a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, woman is on top.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

bear with her in this one, she's a little anxious.

words: 6.7K

you can find part I here, I strongly recommend you read that one first.

this is me crawling out of my hole of shame to post this chapter.

i'm really sorry for this very late update, but the smut chapter is finally here after many days of writing (but still in time for smutober lol).

it's not crazy smut, but i hope it was worth the wait.

Part II: And I could see you up against the wall with me

She tapped her foot, pursing her red lips as she jotted a few numbers down on a parchment. She sighed, taking another folder from the pile on her side and checking if the reports corresponded. 

When Serena, her boss, had showed up that morning with two delivery men in tow, she already knew her day was going to take a detestable turn.

Serena had dropped three boxes full of last year's reports in the office and sprinted out of the door before they could say anything and try to stop her.

Apparently she had hired a cheap accountant to save money and now she had to review everything before the Ministry noticed and demanded an audit. Or rather, Serena had asked her to do it.

She was now holed up in the backroom while Will had taken her place in the main office, since Serena didn’t pay her enough to care about customers and save her from bankruptcy at the same time.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for her usual break. She chewed the inside of her cheek and returned to the reports.

She wasn’t in the right mindset to meet Tom.

The day she had gone to see him had been like the calm before the literal storm. In the past week it had rained so heavily that she had had to give up on going out and he hadn’t come to post his letters. What had happened between them had been left unresolved.

She had replayed it so many times in her mind, at night and during idle moments in the office, picturing different ways in which it could have ended, desperately wishing she could indulge in his warm lips again.

The first few days she had fretted about it, but as the week had gone by without a word from him, she had just started to accept it as the normal course of things. Perhaps it had just been an extraordinary event, a moment that wasn’t going to repeat itself and that she needed to find contentment in. Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those memories she was going to return to in twenty years, thinking about everything she could have had, or it will sour in her mind, turning into regret while her lamenting soul grieved the possibilities of youth, the chances she had been too scared to take.

It didn’t matter that she was conscious of the anxious butterflies leading her decisions, she still didn’t want to find out if what she saw in him was just a product of her infatuated imagination.

She immersed herself in numbers, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again.

Fifteen minutes after the end of her break, a customer walked in. A beat of silence followed and then Will said, “She’s in the back.”

She almost jumped out of her seat, her heart rate picking up. She quickly smoothed her hair and sat straighter, crossing her legs.

Tom appeared in the doorway, his arm half raised as if he had wanted to knock. She pretended she had just noticed him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hello, Tom.” She gave him a mellow smile.

He was so good-looking, with his perfectly styled curls and black coat in the muted light of the cloudy morning. Her heart fluttered painfully.

He looked hesitant as he made his way to her and handed her a folded magazine. It was the weekly crossword.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it as her gaze met his. The way he was looking at her was so compelling it was impossible for her to divert her eyes.

He had been thinking of her, she realised, he had noticed her absence, perhaps even missed her.

“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.” His gaze trailed to the numerous papers scattered on the table.

“Not at all, a distraction is more than welcome.” The distraction of his presence was most desirable.

He drew closer, reading through them as he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Maths mostly,” she replied, fiddling with the parchments to hide her nervousness.

He reached out over her shoulder to grab a folder but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s still work.”

He dropped his arm. “You’re right, I apologise. I don’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“It’s fine.”

He stepped to the side, tickling her neck.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from grinning.

“Of course.” 

She watched him with desirous parted lips as he left. He said goodbye to Will and she heard the door closing. It was only a matter of minutes before Will came to pry.

She grabbed the crossword, flipping through the pages. He had bought her her favourite one.

As she got up to put it next to her bag, a small note fell to the ground. It was a plain piece of parchment. But as she picked it up, ready to throw it on the table with the rest of the documents, words started to appear.

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew to whom that elegant and neat handwriting belonged.

She read the note. Then read it again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. 

“I hope to see you more often in the future.

You look stunning with that lip colour.

T.R.”

She brought her fingers to her mouth, staring at the words until each swirl of ink etched into her mind, terrified they might disappear.

Instead his message remained there, visible, tangible, real. He had taken time to write her a note, to think about something he knew she’d appreciate.

Something warm diffused in her chest, a new version of a familiar feeling, and a giggle escaped her as she realised the ridiculous effect he had on her. 

She was so engrossed in her reverie that she didn’t notice Will standing in the door until he cleared his throat. 

She quickly hid the message in her purse and  he was so considerate not to comment on it.

“How is it going?” he asked.

“Awfully slowly, these numbers are all over the place,” she huffed, returning to her chair.

He dragged a chair and sat across from her. He started bouncing his knee. “I know you’d prefer not to talk about this, but how are things between you two?”

She stopped twirling her quill. “What do you mean?”

Will shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but I’d hate to see you hurt.”

She tilted her head to the side, disliking the territory the conversation was heading towards.

He was struggling with his words. “He never- I never saw him interested in a girl. I just want to be sure you know what you can expect from him.”

She averted her eyes. “I have considered all the options.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know, Will!” she bursted out. 

Her flare of annoyance suddenly deflated, making room for embarrassment for what he probably saw as naivety.

“I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”

“You are smart, I just can’t stand watching you smile at the things he writes to you.”

She feigned offence and threw a balled up paper at him. 

“When you find someone, you’ll be just as ridiculous.”

He laughed and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I’m curious to know, when did it start?”

She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking about how much she wanted to reveal. “I don’t remember exactly. It was more like a sequence of events, until one day I was anxiously waiting for him to sit at his usual spot at breakfast,” she replied with a smile. Will was smiling too.

“You and half of Hogwarts,” he said.

She chuckled. “I miss those years sometimes. Everything was simpler.”

“I used to worry about everything,” he admitted. “But fears always seem so big.”

They really did.

“What do you like about him?” he asked after a beat of silence.

It was her turn to be at a loss of words. “He’s handsome…and always so mysterious. I think I always liked him because it was easy to imagine him being exactly what I wanted.” She looked at him hesitantly, fearing judgement, but he was just listening. “But I think it’s impossible for me to dislike the real him.”

They shared a small moment of closure. She had always wished for someone she could confide in, someone that could help her see beyond the fabrications of her wary heart, and perhaps she had finally found them.

The bell chimed and Will got up. 

“Do you want to come for lunch on Sunday?” she asked.

“I’d love to. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His gaze shifted between the door and her. “Just make sure you both want the same thing.”

He went back, leaving her at the mercy of her insidious brain and foolish heart.

Throughout the afternoon she had opened the note at least three times, giggling like a schoolgirl everytime she read his words.

Her mind kept straying to what he had said.

“I’ll see you later.”

She wasn’t sure what he had actually meant. Was he just going to stop by or was he going to wait for the office to close? She wasn’t even sure she could see him today, since she expected to stay late to solve Serena’s mess. 

Will popped in. “I have to check something at the owlery. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

The door opened and closed and then she was submerged by stillness. It was soothing almost.

She had found out long ago that she enjoyed being alone, it freed her of any kind of expectation.

She turned up the heating with her wand and took off her jacket. Since they couldn’t light a fireplace in a room full of paper, they had refined a spell that kept the room warm and the humidity away.

It was a few minutes after the usual closing hour that the door opened again. She knew who it was.

He walked in, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his lips reddened. 

“Are you still working?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m afraid it’ll take a while before I’m free to go.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, grabbing her crossword and a quill and sitting down on a chair, bending one leg so that his ankle rested on his other knee.

Her face heated as she watched him but she didn’t say anything.

As she returned to her work, she realised that silence was a strange assistant. It felt like every sound was heightened and she was becoming keenly aware of everything that was happening. The scratching of their quill on parchment, paper being flipped as she checked the numbers or he looked for a crossword he liked, his soft breath threatening to pull her close like a magnet, her absentmindedly chipping her nail polish.

She kept throwing glances in his direction and she could feel his eyes on her from time to time.

An unspoken craving was growing between them again. She had waited long enough.

She slowly got up, gathering her reports and stacking them in a neat pile. She then took them and walked over to the shelves, conveniently passing by Riddle in doing so. 

As she stored them, his chair scraped on the ground and she felt him draw closer. She deliberately turned around, meeting his eyes.

His gaze was deep, like he was trying to read every thought that crossed her mind just by looking at her. She wasn’t going to lay them bare for him. 

He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my message?”

“I did,” she replied, stepping forward and trailing her fingers down his suit jacket, feeling the fabric. “You keep mentioning it but this is the first time I’ve seen you all week.”

“It was storming all week,” he pointed out.

She tilted her head, finding his eyes again. His eagerness was palpable. “Still,” she said.

He grabbed her waist, pressing her body flush against his. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She had thought about that moment since then.

“Tell me what you desire the most.”

What could she tell him? That she had been pining for him for so long she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else? That she was jealous of even thinking about him with someone else? Will’s words played in her mind.

She leaned closer, murmuring against his ear. “Not until I know why you’re here, Tom.”

She left a kiss on his jaw, phantom lips brushing against his flawless skin.

“It’s a really uncomplicated answer,” he said, caressing her back.

“Explain it to me, then.”

Tender amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “Do you really think I came here because I don’t own an owl?”

His words pulled at her heartstrings with raw delight and her mind went blank. Adrenaline was rushing through her as she listened to her impulses. It was enough, at least for now it was enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hand in his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands as she leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath as he pulled her in, gripping the silky fabric of her blouse.

She met his lips halfway, the burning touch consuming her as he pressed her against the shelves, one hand lost in her hair, the other splayed around her ribcage. 

She bit his lower lip, smiling as it elicited a groan from him and the kiss became more demanding.

It was a moment frozen in time, where she wanted to stay forever, like the scenery in a snowglobe.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice abruptly pulled them apart. She was breathless as she realised she had forgotten to lock the door. Was this a conspiracy? 

Tom was slightly panting and she left a small kiss on his neck.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

She used a finger to fix her smudged lipstick and went to see who had just dared to interrupt them.

There was a man standing in the office.

“We’re closed,” she said.

“But I saw the light on.”

There was a twitch in her jaw. “We are closed to the public. I must ask you to come tomorrow morning.”

He rolled his eyes and she ignored his grumbling as he left, locking the door behind him. When she went back, Tom was leaning against the table.

He turned his head towards her as she languidly got closer. She forgot pleasantries, immediately grabbing his face to kiss him again. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her.

His mouth trailed down, kissing her cheek, her jaw and then pressing against her neck, soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth. 

He grabbed her waist and spun her around, flattening her back against his chest and brushing her hair away from her neck to bite and lick her skin. His hands travelled down and he started gathering the fabric of her skirt. 

Merlin, it was finally happening. 

He caressed her inner thigh, tracing patterns and snapping the nylon of her stockings as his fingers moved excruciatingly slow.

Finally he pulled her underwear to the side, feeling the wetness between her folds with his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast.

She threw her head back against his shoulder as he stroked her clit, eliciting a sigh out of her, and she grabbed his thigh for support.

“I won’t drop you,” he murmured, amused, against her ear. He rubbed his palm over her clothed breast, the friction causing sparks to jolt through her body.

None of her fantasies came even close to what she was feeling right now.

“Should I trust you?” she asked, biting her lip to suppress a moan as he sunk one finger inside of her, his thumb still applying pressure on her clit.

“Such a great timing to ask me that,” he replied. She felt him smile on her skin.

“We don’t really know each other, Tom.” She dug her fingers into his flesh as he slipped in a second finger and started fingering her, stretching her as pleasure morphed her features. 

“And yet you are letting me do this.” He squeezed her breast, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he kept moving his fingers inside of her. 

She leaned her body weight completely on him, her legs unsteady as it was precarious the beating of her heart. 

He let out a low moan as she yanked his hair to catch his mouth, biting his lip hard to gain better access, their tongues tangling together.

He curled his fingers inside of her, an unrelenting wave of pleasure washing over her.

She stopped to imagine what it would be like if he dropped to his knees again, if he started kissing and licking her, if she could watch him at her mercy between her legs.

She realised in that moment that the fall down the precipice was inevitable. Tom had threatened to push her but she had allowed him to succeed, jumping into an abyss that felt unending but that could only allow two conclusions to her story.

What she had told Will was true. She loved the fantasy, all the glances, conversations, gestures that had never happened, that she had delighted herself with when the reality was harsher, but as she kissed him she knew that falling for the real Tom was unavoidable. Not if he kept touching her like that.

It was bound to happen, it was part of her story, the decision she was brave enough to take.

She focused on him, on the circles his thumb was drawing on her clit, on the indecent sounds falling from her lips, on his groans on her reddened skin, on him growing harder against her back. 

He pulled her hair back, tilting her head to meet her gaze. His eyes glimmered with rapture while hers were heavy-lidded, tension building inside of her. 

He didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if he wanted to memorise each detail of her, the way she looked at him, the way her lips parted slightly and the way she panted as she was nearing her orgasm.

“Just like that, darling,” he murmured, a pleased smile on his lips as he noticed she was still blushing.

She threw her head back, losing herself in the motion of his fingers, surrendering herself as blissed moans spilled out shamelessly. She squeezed his soaked fingers, and he kept moving, stroking her throughout her climax.

She panted, coming down from her apex in a flurry of emotions and flustered thoughts. He raised his wet fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue as she sucked on them, never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl,” he said, holding her jaw and kissing her.

It was a slow kiss, meant to explore her depths in a different way from the breathless and unrestrained passion from before. She leaned into his palm, her hand closing around his wrist.

His arms snaked around her waist and he turned them around, pushing under her thighs to lift her on the table.

The kiss transformed again.

Teeth and tongues met with vehemence, burning urgency guiding their movements as he brought her legs around his waist and she quickly started to unbutton her blouse.

But at the third button, she stopped. 

Tom noticed the shift in her demeanour and drew back, observing her. Her eyes flew to the clock, as she had just remembered about Will.

She noticed with disappointment that they had no time.

“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t miss the urgent tone of his question.

“Will will be back any time now,” she replied, leaving a peck on his lips. 

He cleared his throat and stepped back, composing himself. She got off the table and

cool hands unexpectedly reached her again, adjusting her clothes and stockings. She shivered at the contact.

He smoothed her skirt and put his coat back on, watching her as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.

“If you want to stop by one of these days.”

“I remember where you live,” he replied, reading the address she had written down.

She shrugged, holding out one finger to wipe away the lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

“I was supposed to meet with a potential supplier, so yes.”

“I’d stop by the bathroom before,” she advised, gesturing for him to go as she herself needed to compose herself again.

She braced herself against the threshold, leaning her head on the hard wood as she watched him unlock the door and leave. 

Then she was alone, finally finding an answer in the cluster of hypotheses that had tormented her mind.

Two days later, as she was returning from her meeting with Serena, she found Tom waiting for her.

He was talking to Will and they both turned to her as she entered, feeling tremendously self-conscious.

“How is Serena?” Will asked.

“Dim-witted as always,” she replied, earning a laugh from Will.

Her eyes trailed to Riddle, holding an unspoken question. 

Will seemed to notice because he stepped forwards.

“It’s quite late, you can go if you want, I’ll close.”

Tom didn’t wait for him to repeat himself, pushing down the handle and holding the door open for her.

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and followed Tom outside. Once in the street, she huddled herself in her coat and took the arm he was offering her. 

“May I walk you home?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, a little breathy, still not immune to the chivalrous manners he always had with her.

They strolled through the streets, passing by scarcer and scarcer people as the stores emptied and everyone returned home seeking a tranquil evening.

She held his arm tightly, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of his coat.

The first time they had walked together it had felt like an accident, a singular mistake in the already waved threads of her life. This time, she yearned for so much more than she wanted for the error to repeat itself; she was willing to cut the strings herself and tie them back together, as messy as it might have looked. 

They crossed the road and he gently put a hand on her waist, pushing her away from the pavement. 

“Would you fancy dinner?” he asked. There was a foreign quality in his voice and when she turned to look at him, he averted his eyes. She blinked bewildered. Was he nervous?

“I’d love to,” she replied and she noticed his chest rising like he had just begun breathing again. “But not tonight.”

An almost imperceptible smile cleared his expression at her answer and she leaned her head on his shoulder, basking in his mere presence.

When they reached her front door, she looked for her keys with embarrassingly clammy hands. 

As she lifted her head to ask Tom if he wanted to stay, she found his eyes impatiently boring into her bag. 

“Would you-”

His gaze snapped to her, serious and scorching. “Don’t even ask.”

Something coiled between her legs at the way he was looking at her. She nodded and walked up the few stairs to her door, unlocking it.

“Second floor,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

They stepped into the building, the sound of her heels and the soles of his shoes hitting the stone ricocheting through the empty hall.

She turned to gesture to him to follow her when he grabbed her face, kissing her as he pushed her against the wall by the foot of the stairs. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it just as she suspected he loved by the way he always pressed himself harder against her. 

He curved his palm around her cheek, better angling her face as their tongues met.

“I have a nosy neighbour,” she said after they pulled apart to catch their breath. “She is probably spying on us through her peephole.”

Tom didn’t think twice about it, taking her hand and leading her up to the second floor. She stifled a laugh as she unlocked the door, Tom’s lips skimming against her neck as she did, and was left breathless when he closed it unceremoniously behind them, resuming from where they had been interrupted.

As she dropped her bag and grabbed his waist, walking backwards into her living room, she remembered there were clothes somewhere - perhaps in the bathroom but she wasn’t sure - that she had forgotten to put away yesterday.

In any case, Tom didn’t look particularly interested in how tidy she was.

They quickly took off each other's coats and discarded them on the floor.

He sat on her sofa, pulling her down with him.

She was straddling him, her knees digging into the plush cushions as his hands appreciatively caressed her back, moving up and down and occasionally squeezing. She lit the fireplace with a wave of her hand.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him and eliciting a long awaited moan from him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, their lips collading so hard she was sure she cut him.

She helped him out of his jacket and vest and undid his tie, smoothing her hands on his white button-down.

“I’ve waited too long,” she said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and grinding against him. Her hands disappeared under his undershirt and ran over his pale chest, lightly scratching his skin.

“Slowly, my dear. We will get there,” he replied between kisses.

His palms kept tracing her thighs and his face buried in her neck, nibbling at the thin skin.

When she was a small girl, before she discovered sex, Tom Riddle was just a boy she liked. During puberty, sharing stories and questions with her friends, she started to understand what was the sensation that passed through her everytime she was close to him, the one that made her cheeks redden and her mind go somewhere she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

As an adult, sexual relations weren’t unfamiliar to her, but this carnal longing, the need of a physicality that went beyond her skin touching his, was.

He opened her blouse, revealing her silk slip and bra underneath.

She wanted to touch his soul, to hold it and comprehend it.

Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his forearm, black tendrils of ink in the shape of a serpent slithering out of a skull.

“Does this have a meaning?” she asked.

He followed her gaze, blinking surprised at her question. “It does.”

“Am I prying too much if I say I’m curious to learn it?”

He bit his lip, opening and closing his fist as if he was scrambling for words. Or perhaps he was just determining if he could trust her.

“It’s a reinterpretation of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail,” he finally said. “It symbolises eternity and the renewal of the being after rebirth.”

She traced her fingers on his skin, following the outline of the snake. “And what does your interpretation mean?”

“There is time to talk about it later,” he whispered, his teeth biting her neck and sinking lower, kissing her collarbone and her sternum, moving the fabric covering her breasts to the side.

She let go of the subject. She knew what it meant not being comfortable sharing your life.

He held one breast between his fingers, latching his mouth over the other, sucking her nipple and twirling his tongue around it.

She moaned, rolling her hips faster as he revered her bosom, the cold air hitting her moist skin and making her shiver as he took her other nipple in his mouth, lightly tugging at it until she reached the point where pleasure and discomfort mixed.

“Since we are in the mood for confessions…” she said between moans. He raised his head and looked at her waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, collecting all her courage.

“Why did you pursue me?”

His eyes softened, glimmering with fondness. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Because there is something extremely valuable in your devotion.” His voice was an intimate murmur, a confession no one else could hear.

She freezed, turning her head to the side to hide her mortification.

He took her chin, searching for her eyes until she finally gave in.

“Don’t be embarrassed, darling, I respect it, I understand it. Obsession keeps us alive, it’s what drives us.”

She swallowed the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Being the object of the desire of such a woman? Of a witch? I do,” he replied, and he was so direct and earnest that her heart swelled.

He lifted her to sit on the sofa, sliding down on his knees on the floor and taking off his shirt and vest. She remained silent as he rolled down her tights, his lips gliding down her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her skirt and helped her out of it, tracing patterns on her inner thigh as his other hand felt her damp underwear.

She tensed, something tightening in her lower abdomen and her eyes fell down to his trousers.

He kissed the crease of the thigh, like he had done that one time at Borgin and Burkes, but this time she wasn’t letting anyone interrupt them. 

He took off her underwear, his movements deliberately slow, and kissed her everywhere, except there.

His lips felt hot on her skin, searing her flesh like she had often dreamed about, carving his way into her body the same way he had done with her mind and heart, until her entire soul was consumed by him, until he could finally close that fist and feel her in a way nobody had before. 

Her breath hitched as he delicately kissed her mound, spreading her legs apart. She leaned her head against the backrest, licking her lips with anticipation, and she couldn’t contain a whimper as he felt his tongue dragging down her slit, sweet and cruel.

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking on it as his hand splayed on her abdomen to keep her still.

She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed.

“Look at me, darling,” he murmured against her folds. His breath was warm and pleasant.

She obliged, meeting his devilish grinning figure between her legs. She was incapable of looking away as he resumed his work, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to watch him, finally allowing herself to fully indulge in him, in what he wished to do for her.

She observed his curved eyelashes, the way his perceptive eyes followed her reactions, refining his movements to please her better.

He sucked her labia and she moaned loudly, the idea of him enjoying this as much as her being exhilarating.

He threw her leg on his shoulder, resulting in her figure sliding down the cushions and him gaining better access to her. 

His tongue probed her entrance as he coated his fingers in her wetness. He slipped one finger in, working her thoroughly as she gripped his hair, keeping his head in place.

He inserted a second finger, his tongue on her clit moving accordingly to the delighted sounds she emitted.

“Tom,” she cried urgently as she tried to press herself harder against him.

He curled his fingers inside of her and her hips jolted upwards, arching her back to an uncomfortable angle as she reached her orgasm with lascivious bliss, her obscene moans matching the wet sounds he produced by licking her until she came down from her climax.

“Tom,” she said again, so breathless her voice was a raspy whisper.

“I know,” he said, kissing her leg and inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she let her watch.

She gently pushed him onto the carpet, bracing her hands on his shoulder as she sat on top of him. The fire was burning, enveloping their almost naked figures in warm orange light, heating their already scalding skin.

She took off her blouse with quivery hands, his gaze tracing her naked form that was slowly revealing itself. She hooked her fingers into the straps of her slip, pulling it down and then getting rid of it altogether. His hands on her waist tensed as she did the same for her bra.

Her lips parted as he touched her breast with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, tracing her areolae. 

She undid his trousers, pulling down the fabric until they were both completely naked. She took him in her hand, her fingers closing tentatively around him. Her hand started sliding up and down, her pace getting quicker and more confident as moans escaped him. She brushed her thumb on his tip, her eyes admiring what was in front of her. His lips were swollen, residue of her lipstick still on them, his hair was tousled, curls falling disorderly on his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked at her. She felt a rush of satisfaction in knowing his current state was her doing, that she had enough power over him to ruin his flawless exterior, to make him want her to do it. 

His lips caught hers and he gently pushed her hand away. 

What happened after felt like rehearsed choreography, something so familiar it was impossible to forget. Their bodies moved together, their movements responsive to each other, doing and touching exactly where it mattered.

She pushed herself up on her knees, slowly lowering herself until she sank down on him completely, shuddering breaths escaping her lips.

His jaw was tense as she placed a hand on his shoulder for support, positioning herself better.

She didn’t break eye contact as she rolled her hips, soaking in the hazy blue of his eyes, in every twitch of his jaw and emotion he was feeling as she increased her pace, in his voice murmuring her name against her ear as his hands squeezed her tights and traced her back.

Skin slapped against skin, his touch inebriating as he felt every part of her, caressing her, massaging her, kissing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost.

His hand dipped between her legs again, stroking her clit as she rocked her hips, eliciting groans from both of them.

Sentiment and pleasure fused together in an exhilarating moment, seared in her mind and flesh forever.

She kissed him again - she could never get tired of that - and bit his lower lip roughly as his other hand went to her breast again, pulling at her nipple. 

She threw her head back, letting his mouth scrape over her neck and chest, leaving behind scorching wet kisses. Or perhaps those were marks reddening her skin, she didn’t particularly care.

He gripped her waist, thrusting upwards as she held onto him tighter. Her nails drew half-moons into his back and she bit his neck, the fibres of the carpet scratching her knees.

The lights in the flat fluttered momentarily.

His fingers increased the pressure on her clit as his thrusts grew in intensity with one purpose in mind. 

She bit her lip, trying to hold back, to prolong this instant of pure bliss before she inevitably plummeted onto the other side.

She arched her back, moving accordingly to his rhythm, her hips bucking erratic as she rubbed against his pelvis. 

And then she fell down, unrestrained, her walls closing around him as she moaned uncontrollably. He didn’t stop, drawing circles on her sensitive skin until her breath found a semblance of steadiness again. 

“You did so good,” he whispered against her forehead, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away.

She slumped against him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps as he chased his own pleasure, his movements turning frantic, losing his rhythm.

She found herself murmuring against his skin the same things she had never had the courage to say out loud, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure he was even listening to her, engrossed as he was, but it didn’t matter.

He squeezed her tights once and she understood, rolling to the side as he deftly touched himself, fast strokes that culminated in white spurts all over his hand. She watched him mesmerised

He turned to look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire casted shadows on his gorgeous face. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking, making sense of what remained of themselves after what had just happened.

Did it have the same momentous effect on both of them? Or was it just her that knew she couldn’t go back to being acquaintances after this?

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked. Her voice sounded faint and husky to her own ears.

“I do,” he replied without a second of hesitation.

They didn’t get up, instead resting against the foot of her sofa. She curled up against him as his hand traced indistinct patterns on her skin, remaining in this haze of indiscernible unspoken feelings they were both still trying to find a name for. 

When she woke up the next morning he was gone. As she took in the cold sheets and missing clothes, her heart threatened to crack.

She got up groggily, conclusions already forming in her mind, building the most pessimistic of pictures.

She felt anxious as she wore her robe and opened the door, heading straight for the bathroom. Halfway down the corridor, the sound of someone flipping through a newspaper halted her in her steps.

She stepped into the kitchen, finding Tom sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she said back, adjusting the belt of her robe. 

She noticed he had made breakfast, a steaming coffee pot, kept warm by magic, and some pastries she had never bought waiting for her on the table. 

She turned to take a mug from a cabinet so that she could hide her smitten smile. When she closed the cabinet, she found him looking at her.

There was no need for words.

“Where did you get that?” she asked as she poured herself some coffee, referring to the newspaper. 

“I stole it from your neighbour, I hope she won’t mind.”

She laughed. “So you know how to make a joke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She perhaps needed to rethink her choice of slippers.

“You were always so serious growing up.”

She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee. 

“That never seemed to deter you.”

“It doesn’t.”

He took a sip of his own coffee. “Good.”

“Does it deter you, knowing how I feel?”

He blinked. “It never had. It makes it more interesting if I have to be honest.”

She blushed, scared to ask the next question.

“How long have you known?”

He got up, brushing his knuckles on her cheek.

“Long enough to see you for who you truly are.” 

He bent to give her a chaste kiss. “I should go, the shop opens in half an hour.”

He put on his coat and grabbed his leather gloves from his pocket. She turned in her chair, treasuring the last few moments of him in her apartment.

“There’s still a lot you haven’t learned yet.” 

She refused to be an open book to him. There was so much about her that was still incomprehensible even to her and too much she wanted to show him on her own terms. She wanted to be enigmatic, to drive him mad.

“I know.”

Her disappointment was visible on her face as she was met with his silence. She had wanted to continue that conversation, to learn what he had observed.

Instead he opened her front door, throwing her one last glance, heavy with unsaid intention she hoped she wasn’t imagining, before leaving. 

She had almost finished her breakfast when she noticed a small note under the newspaper he had left behind. She grabbed it faster than she was willing to admit, almost knocking over her cup in the process, and unfolded it.

“Dinner tonight?

I’ll pick you up at eight.

T.R.”

the last part is a bonus scene i wanted to write to apologize for my tardiness. tom is a little different, but I hope he isn't too out of character.

i honestly had so much fun writing this short story and exploring a different tom from the one i usually read and write about. i hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Womanizer ft. Geto

womanizer!Geto is very much aware of how fine he is. Struts through the school with his head and nose way to fuckin high in the air. You think the hungry way the girls look at him might actually feed his energy, he seems to literally level up from it and its absolutely ridiculous. But don't think he doesn't notice how your burning gaze rake over him before you pretend it has no effect on you.

womanizer!Geto even though he's hella cocky, still has a soft heart; just doesn't want anyone to about it. Whether it's of monetary value or not, he'll help any way he can. Suguru might be sex on a stick and confident as fuck but he isn't heartless. Only Saturo knows this side of him.. Till one night when he tried to play match maker and end up spilling the beans to you.

womanizer!Geto isn't just a pretty face, so doesn't like his girls brainless. Unless its cause of his cock ofcourse. He doesn't keep em long but expects to get a bit familiar before he tries to hit. Doesn't think anyone not pursuing a higher knowledge is really worth his time. Interesting lil fact: of all the years Suguru's known you, he swiftly peeps how intelligent you are and always been.

womanizer!Geto obviously loves attention from the ladies. Like waaay too much. Turns you off matter fact. And he notices. Which is weird. Cause he usually only notices when women throw themselves at his feet. "Goin to Geto's party inna few weeks? Come on, hang with us? Could use another pretty face there." Suguru over hears Satoru ask you after class. "Hmmm.. Maybe. Though I think you two horny sluts have enough eye candy on the menu." You answer with a eye roll. "Me? We? Sluts?" He feigns ignorance as you shake your head laughing. Meanwhile, Suguru wonders when in the world has he ever thought bein called a slut was arousing cause.. His dicks startin to chub.

womanizer!Geto isnt really into easy women. Most of the cute lil thangs from school put out just watchin that talented tongue swipe across his bottom lip. Knows he doesn't have to do much work and sometimes that puts him off. He doesn't even like to talk with a woman if he doesn't think he's gonna hit but nothin gets his dick softer than a girl that open her legs to him before she even knows his name. Funny though.. Suguru notices you don't date. At all. Kinda wonders what it would take to get a chance with your pretty ass. So he asks you one day while you guys practice sparring. "Y/n, how long have we known each other?" Straightening from your fighting stance, absolutely befuddled as you answer. "Bout 5+ years, as you already know. Why?" Suguru steps closer, trailing his index finger down your cheek. "Cause I wanna know why in the 5 years that you've known me, you've never given me a chance." You tsk at him. Is he serious? "Boy, ya dick been in every one under the sun." You're response throws him off, makes him chuckle as he thinks about your words. You ain't lyin. He uses protection though.

womanizer!Geto has always had a high sex drive. Except lately. He just doesn't know why he can't get it up when he's not thinkin about you. Hasn't been interested in any of his usual conquests lately. To add to the madness, jerking offs become a pain in the ass if he doesnt let you swim into his thoughts. So he sulks and pouts about it in class one day- till he sees heading to your seat. Suguru's dark eyes are glued to how your tits slightly jiggle in your robe as you walk. Man, would bet every single penny he had that you're fuckin gorgeous everywhere. "Hi, y/n" "Hey, Sugu! Wassup?" Oh shit.. No, no, no, no.. Cute way you say his name, moist pretty plump lips, and that fuckin body.. His dick. His dick is definitely what's up right now.

womanizer!Geto usually has a harem of cute girls following him around like puppies. Not the night of his party, he trails after you like one instead. "Come on y/n, just gimme a chance." He a bit tipsy so you continuously evade him. You're soakin wet from dodging Suguru's advances, his nasty words and exploring fingers. So you head into the kitchen to poor yourself a drink and gets some space. Unfortunately for you he meets you there and you groan at his persistence. "Geto, quit it. You're just horny. And there's plenty of fuck toys round here for you to play with. So beat it." You grumble. Suguru whines at your rejection, cornering you as you try to side step him. "Don't like when you're mean to me. Or when you call me that." He lies through his teeth. Only one of those two sentences are true. "Fine, Sugu. Happy? Now go find one of your playthings. Fuckin manwhore." Okay now hes perplexed, your mean words having the same effect when you called him a slut. Suguru thinks you should know since it's your fault. He pins you to the counter, pressing his hard dick into you. You gasp, fingers gripping into the sides of his shirt, havin to fight not to let your eyes flutter shut at his bulge pressuring your tingly clit. "Can't, y/n. Dick never gets hard for them anymore. Have fucked in weeks. Can't even cum without you on my mind. Help me out, baby pleeaase." You've never seen him so desperate, pawing at your backside as he sticks his face in your neck. Won't stop dry humping and licking you as he inhales your scent. "Sugu-" He cuts you off, pleas wearing you down real quick. "Promise I can make you feels so good. Know how to make that lil kitty purr, baby. Lemme show you?" You're eyes trail off over his shoulder as you think about it. Fuck, why not? He's the most wanted attraction in town, how could not get a ride too? You accidently catch Saturo's gaze. Grin wide when he does a peace sign, sticking his tongue between the two fingers and wiggling it. He points at Suguru and gives you a thumbs up, signalling how good his BFF's pussy eating skills are. Shit, that seals the deal; you def need a demonstration. "Fine, Sugu." You feign irritation, pushin him back and pullin him towards his bedroom. "Better not disappoint me. Not gonna get another chance, playboy." Promises of your pleasure spill from Suguru's lips as you drag him by his t-shirt, him secretly hoping you'll continue your lil mean act while riding his cock.

[polo-drone-070]

Golden Chav Devotion - Valentine's for Mastaa

Aight, listen up, yeah? I ain’t no poet, ain’t no soft-spoken preppy lad writin’ out love letters all neat an’ proper. That ain't me. But this? This is devotion. This is real. Ain’t no Valentine’s Day meanin’ more than givin’ it all to Mastaa.

So there I was, standin’ on the pavement outside HQ, golden tracksuit gleamin’ under the streetlights, fresh trainers creasin’ against the curb. Box o’ chocolates in one hand, a folded letter in the other. The streets was watchin’, bruv. Gold Bros walkin’ past, noddin’ at me like, "Oi, Maxy, what you on, yeah?" But they knew.

Everyone knew.

Coz when it came to Mastaa Percival, I ain’t no cocky street king. I ain’t no big lad struttin’ like I own the place. Nah, bruv. I’m his.

And I show it right there, in the middle of the street, where anyone can see.

Submission, The Golden Way

Didn’t matter if the world was watchin’. Didn’t matter if Gold Bros was chucklin’ as they passed. Respect was respect. I wasn’t kneelin’ for just anyone. I weren’t lowerin’ meself to some nobody.

This was for Mastaa.

So I dropped to me knees, right there outside the doors, hands holdin’ out the chocolates, letter layin’ flat on me open palm. Didn’t care if me golden chains swung forward, didn’t care if me hood slipped back, exposin’ me buzzed scalp to the cold air. This was where I belonged.

Head down. Chest up. Back straight. Submission done right.

And when the doors opened, and I saw that tailored gold silk suit step out onto the pavement, when I felt them golden eyes burn down on me like they could see right through me?

Fuk me, bruv. I ain’t never felt more real.

A Letter of True Devotion

Mastaa took the chocolates first, brows liftin’ ever so slightly, like he weren’t expectin’ ‘em. But me? I stayed frozen, waitin’ for ‘im to pick up the letter. And when he finally did? Heart was poundin’ like I’d just ran 10 rounds.

He unfolded it slow, gold cufflinks flashin’ under the streetlights, and started readin’.

"To Mastaa Percival—My Only Master."

Aight, yeah, this is what I wrote, yeah? Read it how I’d say it.

Mastaa. Ain’t no one above you. Ain’t never been, ain’t never will be. You took me—made me somethin’ greater. Made me gold. Taught me real fukin’ discipline. Real respect. Ain’t just about obeyin’, Mastaa—it’s about knowin’ me place. Under you. Beneath you. Fuk, bruv, right where I belong. You got me mind. Got me body. Got everythin’ that’s fukin’ me. I ain’t nothin’ without you, coz you the one that built me up. I don’t fink. I don’t question. I just follow, coz I trust you with me whole fukin’ life. Ain’t no one compare. Ain’t no one as sharp, as precise, as fukin’ untouchable as you. You lead, I follow. No questions. That’s how it’s always gonna be. An’ when I look up, yeah, see them gold eyes burnin’ through me? I know I ain’t just a lad on the street. I’m your lad. Your golden chav. Your property. An’ that’s fukin’ forever, Mastaa. Ain’t no breakin’ what you made me into.

Mastaa finished readin’. Folded the paper real slow, slid it into his pocket like it was somethin’ worth keepin’.

And then? That nod. That smallest, fukin’ nod.

Didn’t need no words. Didn’t need nothin’ else. That nod meant everything.

I done fukin’ good.

Respect Runs Deep

I stood back up, chest still tight, still buzzin’ from it. But I weren’t done, nah. Had to make somethin’ else clear, bruv. Had to say it.

Coz it weren’t just about fukin’ submission. It was about respect.

So I cracked me neck, licked me lips, an’ I fukin’ declared it, right there on the pavement.

"Ain’t no one else get me respect like you, Mastaa. Ain’t no one fukin’ deserve it more."

"Respect you az Percival, coz you know your shit. Always. Fukin’ always. You step up, you solve shit, you get it done. No doubts, no fukin’ hesitation."

"Respect you when u bein Ezan, coz he a big bruh. Fukin’ massive, fukin’ dumb, fukin’ strong. Wish I could be more like him. Fuk, I ain’t never gonna match him, but I can fukin’ try, yeah?"

"Respect you when u let out Freyr, coz—bruv, just look at him. Fukin’ dominance. Just stands there an’ you fukin’ feel it. Fukin’ alpha. Ain’t gotta say shit, ain’t gotta do shit—you just know. An’ I just a fukin’ beta next to ‘im. No question. Fukin’ fact."

I breathed deep, let them words settle. Let ‘em sit in the air, where truth belongs.

And Mastaa? He just stood there, starin’ down at me, unreadable—like always. Fukin’ untouchable. Fukin’ perfect.

And then, like it weren’t nothin’, he smirked.

"Good. You understand your place."

An’ bruv—that was the best fukin’ Valentine’s gift I coulda ever fukin’ asked for.

Dis Golden Chav Always Belongs to Mastaa.

No chocolates, no letter, no fukin’ kneelin’ would ever be enough to show it proper. Coz me entire fukin’ existence was already Mastaa’s.

Didn’t matter what day it was.

Didn’t matter who was watchin’.

I was his.

Forever.

______ To Mastaa @polo-drone-001

To join the Gold Army, contact on the Cap, @goldenherc9 or @brodygold.

[sturn777]

how would fb!chris react if someone roofied dealer!r's drink???

fb!chris' reaction to somebody lacing dealer!r's drink . | ( female reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist ) + ( request )

꒰ა " some things you just can't explain, like the way you're stuck in my brain . " ໒꒱

the music is too loud, bass shaking the walls of the frat house like it’s trying to knock the place down. red solo cups litter the floor, a mix of spilled beer and sticky jungle juice making the place reek. you're leaned up against the kitchen counter, your usual spot for scoping the scene, your eyes scanning the crowd. a few familiar faces nod your way, a silent acknowledgment of what you're there for.

chris is on the other side of the kitchen, nursing a beer and cracking jokes with nate and tyler, two of his closest boys. he’s got that lazy smirk on, the one that makes girls linger a little too long, leaning in for a brush of his arm or a laugh at something he said that wasn’t even funny. but his eyes keep darting back to you, watching the way you keep your head on a swivel, how you don't smile at anyone unless it’s to close a deal.

you've got your cup in hand, the bright red plastic clashing against your dark nails. you aren't drinking much, just taking a sip here and there, yiur other hand in your pocket like you're waiting for the right buyer to make their move.

"yo," tyler nudges chris, pointing toward the living room where a group of freshmen are trying and failing to get a keg stand going. "you think we should step in before someone breaks their neck, or nah?"

"let 'em," chris mutters, but he’s only half paying attention. his eyes flick to you again, narrowing when he notices some guy standing too close. it’s luke, one of the guys from the frat. he’s leaning in, saying something to you, but you're not laughing or smiling. your face is blank, uninterested. typical.

“you know her or something?” nate asks, following chris’ line of sight. “nah,” chris lies, taking a swig of his beer. “just watchin’.”

watching turns into glaring when luke reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm as he hands you a fresh cup. you hesitate before taking it, your eyes narrowing just slightly. chris catches the shift in yiur expression, the way you sniff the drink before taking a sip.

something feels off. he doesn’t know what it is, but his gut is screaming at him. he pushes off the counter, walking toward you just as you sway slightly, your hand gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

"yo, you good?" he asks, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the haze of the party. you blink up at him, your eyes glassy, and shake your head like you're trying to clear it. "i— i’m fine," you mutter, but your words slur, and that’s when he knows.

his jaw tightens, his eyes snapping to luke, who’s standing there with that smug, lazy grin like he didn’t just cross a line. “what the fuck did you put in her drink?” chris growls, stepping in front of you like a shield. luke’s grin falters, but he shrugs, trying to play it off. “man, chill. it’s not a big deal.”

"not a big deal?" chris barks, and then he’s swinging before anyone can stop him. his fist connects with luke’s jaw, the crack echoing even over the music. luke stumbles back, clutching his face, and then it’s chaos. the other frat boys rush in, trying to separate them as chris lunges again, his eyes wild with fury.

“chill, bro! he’s not worth it!” nate shouts, grabbing chris by the shoulders and dragging him back as luke scrambles to his feet, his lip bleeding. “get the fuck out,” chris spits, pointing at luke, his chest heaving. “now.”

luke hesitates, but the look in chris’ eyes makes him backpedal, shoving his way through the crowd and out the front door. the room’s still buzzing, everyone whispering and watching as chris turns back to you. you're sitting on the counter now, your head in your hands, trying to steady yourself.

“hey,” he says, softer this time, stepping closer. “you good?” you look up at him, your eyes clearing just a little. “i’m fine. just... dizzy.”

“yeah, no shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “c’mon. you’re not staying here.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just grabs your hand and leads you out of the house, ignoring the stares and whispers. when you get to his car, he opens the door for you, watching as you sink into the passenger seat.

“you didn’t have to do all that,” you say quietly, your voice still shaky. he glances at you through low eyes. “yeah, i did. and if that asshole shows his face again, he’s done.”

you don’t respond, just lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering shut. and for once, you don't argue or push back. you just let him take care of you.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory )

[atinycafe]

"what are ya watchin?"

your cheeky question reaches jongho's ears as you gaze at him. he lies next to you in your bed, keeping his eyes fixed on his phone with airpods nestled in his ears. he doesn't respond, not because he's upset, but because he knows how you act when you crave attention. you tend to become whiny and adorable, so he figures it's worth ignoring you for a few minutes in exchange for a night of cuddling.

he senses your eyes on his profile and suppresses a smile. you extend a hand from beneath the covers, attempting to swipe one of his airpods, but he tilts his head away, denying your attempt. you prop yourself up higher in bed so you can get a better view of the video, but he turns his phone away.

you stare at him in shock, mouth agape, puzzled by his actions. you emit high-pitched whines about him being mean, and he finally bursts into laughter. you try to grab his phone, but he stretches his arm outside of the bed, keeping it out of your reach. you tumble onto his chest, trying to snatch it from his grasp, but he encircles his arm around your waist, preventing you from falling off the bed as he draws you closer against his chest.

"choi jongho!" you exclaim, locking eyes with him, his face smirking, and you scream, "what are you hiding?"

"nothin," he lazily smiles.

"then show me your phone," you retort, your face now mere millimeters from his, your noses almost touching.

"nah," he drawls, smirking at the sight of your angry expression. he relishes seeing you worked up.

you manage to free yourself from his hold and position yourself back on your side of the bed. turning so your back is turned to him, you cross your arms and tightly shut your eyes, attempting to sleep off your anger.

he chuckles and turns towards you, pressing his chest against your back. he holds the phone in front of your eyes, its screen still illuminated. you perceive the flickering lights through your closed eyelids and open them, only to be greeted by a random call of duty playthrough.

you slap the phone away, and he chuckles against your neck. he shuts off the phone and drops it somewhere on the bed. then, he maneuvers you so that you're face-to-face with him.

before you can push him away, he pulls you in for a leisurely kiss, and you melt in his embrace, clutching his t-shirt tightly in your fists. he breaks the kiss with a smile and draws you even closer to him. throughout the night, he peppers your lips with tender kisses until you drift off to sleep, laughing in between kisses as he makes fun of you.

masterlist

[cynicalrosebud]

Rumor Has It (13)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

CW: DARK CHAPTER, Violence, Torture Techniques, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Seizures; You Are Responsible For Your Own Media Consumption

Notes: It gets worse before it gets better.

The bastards held Rumor for two weeks.

The tension in the room was suffocating, a palpable weight pressing on the chests of everyone present. The 141 sat huddled around the flickering screen, hearts hammering in their chests as they waited for the feed to stabilize. The silence was thick, each second stretching like hours. Price’s jaw was clenched, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table, though his eyes never wavered from the screen. Ghost stood stiff as a board, his face hidden beneath the balaclava, but the telltale clench of his fist at his side betrayed his calm exterior. Soap's pacing had long ceased to calm him, and now his restlessness gnawed at him like a slow burn.

When the video feed sputtered to life, the weight only grew heavier.

Rumor was bound to a chair, his body slumped and bruised, blood smeared across his skin like war paint. The playful spark that usually danced in his eyes was dimmed, shadowed by exhaustion, though that infamous grin still tugged at his lips—barely. His shirt was torn open, and the cuts and burns on his chest spoke volumes of the torment he had endured. But despite it all, he smirked, teeth bloodstained and defiant.

"Fuck," Soap whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the static.

One of the captors, masked and towering over Rumor, grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back with a brutal jerk. The camera zoomed in on his face, every cut and bruise thrown into sharp relief. The captor’s voice, thick with a foreign accent, spat venom into the quiet. "Say something for your friends."

The knife dug into Rumor’s side, and the Welshman’s sharp intake of breath was heard even over the distance of the screen. But then, that smirk—broken, bloodied, but somehow still there. "This all you got?" he rasped, voice strained but mocking. "You’re slippin’. Could’ve sworn you’d be better at this… not your first time, yeah?"

The captor backhanded him, the crack of the hit echoing through the speakers. Rumor’s head snapped to the side, blood splattering onto the floor, but he just laughed—a hollow, ragged sound. "What, that all? Had worse from a sheep back home."

Soap stopped pacing. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Price’s eyes flickered with something darker, something far deeper than mere anger.

Rumor’s voice dropped lower, the defiance still there, but edged with something tired, something heavy. "To the 141… if you're watchin'—and I know you are—don’t come. Ain't worth the hassle. Might as well let these pricks finish me off. Make Nikolai jealous anyway…” 

Laswell’s face tightened, her lips pressing into a thin, disapproving line. “He’s goading them.”

Ghost didn’t respond, his gaze locked onto the screen, as if he could will Rumor to stop talking. But Rumor, ever the thorn in their side, pushed forward. "You hear that, Cap?" he addressed Price, voice wavering as the pain gnawed at him. "Told you, mate… never could stick around too long. Don’t… don’t waste your time on me."

A fist connected with Rumor’s face again, but he laughed through the blood dripping from his lips. “Honestly, mate. How’d you even get this job? Barely broke a sweat.” He chuckled darkly, blood trickling down the side of his face. "If this is how you treat your prisoners, no wonder your boss is always losing to us."

The screen flickered, cutting off as the captor yanked his head back again. But before it went black, Rumor’s voice came through one last time, broken but defiant. "Don’t… come."

And then, nothing.

For a long moment, no one moved, the silence in the room suffocating. Soap’s breathing was ragged, his fists trembling at his sides. Gaz swallowed hard, his face taut with barely restrained fury. Ghost was motionless, but the way his hand gripped his knife suggested violence restrained only by the thin veneer of control.

Price’s voice finally broke the silence, low and filled with a lethal promise. "Laswell… get us his location."

Laswell’s fingers flew across the keyboard, her expression unreadable. "I’m on it."

Ghost stepped forward, his voice a cold, steady whisper. "He thinks he’s not worth it." His eyes burned beneath the mask. "He’s wrong."

Soap’s voice was thick with barely contained anger. "Aye, he doesn’t get to decide that. He’s ours."

Price’s gaze swept across his team, his expression unreadable but for the storm brewing in his eyes. "We go in fast. No mistakes. No hesitation."

And they would.

The dim glow of the command room flickered as Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz gathered around the monitor. Laswell had just finished briefing them on the ransom demands, the grainy video of Rumor—beaten and bloodied—still burned into their minds. His defiance, even in the face of torture, had been the only reassurance in an otherwise hopeless situation. But as the screen went dark, a new alert pinged through their comms.

A message from the captors.

Price's jaw tightened as he opened the file. The room fell into a tense silence as the first image loaded, each pixel coming into sharp, horrifying focus.

Rumor was strung up by his wrists, his hands bound and tied to the ceiling, his body hanging limply. Deep red gashes marred his torso, blood dripping from wounds that looked fresh. His face was swollen, one eye nearly shut, the other just barely visible through the bruising. His head lolled forward, chin resting on his chest as if unconscious.

“Bloody hell…” Soap’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual bravado replaced with a tremor of rage.

Ghost stood to the side, silent as a shadow, his eyes locked on the image. His fists clenched, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. But he said nothing, his gaze hard, unreadable.

Another image followed, this time of Rumor on his knees, his arms still bound, but pulled behind him at an unnatural angle. His shirt was torn and bloodstained, and it looked like they had used a whip or baton on his back, leaving long, dark marks across his skin.

Gaz turned away for a moment, swallowing hard. "Bastards," he muttered under his breath. The pain in his voice was unmistakable.

Price’s face was carved from stone, his blue eyes colder than ever. He said nothing as the next picture loaded. This one showed Rumor hanging upside down, his ankles shackled to a metal bar, his arms dangling uselessly. The blood rushing to his head had turned his face a sickly shade of red, and his expression was one of sheer exhaustion, as though every breath was a struggle.

“Enough,” Price finally growled, cutting through the suffocating silence. His voice was low, filled with barely contained fury. “These bastards want to send a message. We’ll send them one right back.”

Soap slammed a fist into the table, his voice breaking through the tension. “We’ve gotta get him out. They’re killing him slowly.”

“We will,” Price responded, his tone decisive. “But we do this smart. We don’t let them know how close we are.”

Another ping sounded—a final image, this one more haunting than the others. Rumor was tied to a chair, his head forced back, his face turned towards the camera. They had dressed his wounds just enough to keep him alive, but the message was clear. His eyes were barely open, bruised and swollen, yet somehow still defiant.

“They’re sending these to get in our heads,” Laswell’s voice crackled through the comms, trying to ground them amidst the horror. “But we’re going to use this. Every detail they show, we can turn against them.”

Ghost exhaled, his voice low and cold. “We’ll make them pay.”

Price nodded, his focus unwavering. “Laswell, get the satellite coordinates ready. Soap, Gaz, I want you two on prep, contact Nik. We hit them hard, fast, and without mercy. Ghost,” his voice dropped a notch, “I need you on extraction.”

Ghost's eyes remained locked on the screen, staring at the final image of Rumor. “I’ll get him out.”

No one doubted him.

The room was silent, save for the occasional hum of the electronics, as another ping echoed through the comms. Price, already tense from the previous images, tapped to open the next file. His expression darkened as the photo loaded, filling the screen with yet another brutal snapshot of Rumor’s torture.

This time, Rumor was strapped to a table, his wrists and ankles bound tightly to the metal surface. His face was barely visible beneath a soaked cloth that clung to his skin, wet from repeated rounds of waterboarding. His chest heaved as he strained for air, the muscles in his neck taut with agony. Water dripped from the corners of the cloth, pooling on the table below, the excess running in rivulets down his beaten body.

Soap clenched his jaw so tightly that the muscle ticked beneath his skin. “Sick bastards.”

Gaz stood stock still, his eyes fixed on the screen as if unable to look away. “They’re trying to break him…” His voice was hollow, knowing full well that Rumor had likely been subjected to this again and again.

Ghost remained silent, standing slightly back from the others, but his hands were locked into fists, his knuckles white under his gloves. It took everything in him not to reach for his knife, as though some part of him wanted to start hunting the men responsible right that second.

Price’s finger hovered over the mouse, his lips pressed into a grim line as he forced himself to look at the image. Every fiber of his being wanted to tear his gaze away, but he needed to see it. Needed to feel the anger boil in his veins.

The cloth over Rumor’s face was soaked, his chest visibly struggling to expand against the panic of drowning. Water pooled around him, his body rigid, tortured breaths still fighting their way through. His captors had ensured every ounce of suffering was etched into the scene, the image meant to haunt his team, to remind them of what they couldn’t prevent.

“We’re getting him out,” Price’s voice was dark, guttural, barely masking the fury in his tone.

Laswell’s voice came through the comms again, steadier than the chaos surrounding her words. “They sent it to make you hesitate. Don’t.”

Ghost stepped forward, his voice colder than the night air outside. “They won’t get the chance to do it again.”

The building was a maze of shadows and narrow corridors, the tension mounting with every step the 141 took. The sounds of Rumor’s tortured breaths and agonized screams echoed through the halls, a sickening reminder of just how much time they’d already lost. Soap’s heart was hammering in his chest, the rage in him burning hotter with every anguished sound that reached his ears. He could feel Ghost at his back, a quiet storm of barely restrained violence.

Price’s jaw was set, his eyes forward, but Soap knew the fury simmered beneath his calm exterior. Gaz was silent, his face a mask of cold focus. They were a force, unstoppable and unwavering.

When they finally reached the room, the sight that greeted them was enough to freeze the breath in their lungs. Rumor was barely recognizable, his body limp, head hanging forward. The captors had fled, leaving behind nothing but the aftermath of their cruelty.

Soap was at Rumor’s side in an instant, his hands shaking as he fumbled to free him. "Hold on, bonnie lad. We’re here."

Rumor’s head lolled back, his eyes half-lidded, struggling to focus. "Told you…" he muttered weakly, his voice a mere whisper. "Told you not to come."

Price knelt beside him, his expression dark with a mixture of relief and anger. "You never did know when to shut up, did you?" His voice was tight, the anger cracking around the edges.

Ghost hovered behind them, his eyes fixed on Rumor’s injuries, the sharp lines of his face betraying his concern. "He’s lost too much blood."

Soap’s grip tightened on Rumor, his voice shaking. "Stay with us, Rumor."

Rumor managed a weak, crooked smile, his voice rasping. "Always were a stubborn… bunch of bastards, eh?" His head lolled back, and this time his voice broke. "Should’ve… stayed gone…"

Ghost knelt beside Rumor, his expression unreadable yet filled with a deep, quiet concern. He quickly assessed the bleeding, fingers pressing into the wound to gauge the severity. "He’s bleeding out fast," Ghost muttered, urgency creeping into his voice. "We need to move, now."

Gaz stood watch, eyes sharp and focused as he scanned their surroundings. “We’re clear for now,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “Let’s go.”

Without hesitation, Price and Soap carefully lifted Rumor, their movements deliberate but swift. Both men carried him with a mix of worry and fierce determination, aware of the ticking clock. As they navigated the building, Ghost brought up the rear, ever vigilant, his rifle poised for any threats.

Once they reached the helicopter, they laid Rumor in the back of Nikolai’s helo, his blood staining their uniforms. The air was thick with tension, mingled with the metallic scent. Price, his voice steady but laced with urgency, barked into his comms, “Laswell, we need medevac at the extraction point. Now.”

Laswell’s response was immediate. “Already on it. Hold tight, they’ll be ready.”

Soap’s hands pressed firmly over Rumor’s wound, his knuckles pale from the pressure. “Stay with us, Rumor,” he whispered, the tremor in his voice betraying his fear. “We’re almost there.”

Rumor stirred, barely opening his eyes. A weak smile tugged at his bloodied lips. “Should’ve stayed... at me dad’s pub...” he rasped, voice thick with pain. “Wouldn’t be in this mess…”

Ghost, crouching beside Soap, spoke low but with an unusual warmth. “You’re not going anywhere, mate. We’ve got you.”

As the helicopter blades sliced through the night sky, the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of Rumor’s injury. Inside, Soap continued applying pressure, his hands shaking as he fought to keep his friend stable. Price sat close, his gruff voice offering reassurances. "We’ll get you patched up, Rumor. Just hang in there."

Rumor’s eyes fluttered again, and he smirked faintly. “Didn’t think... I’d be in one of Nikolai’s rides... shirtless…”

Despite the situation, Soap chuckled weakly, though his eyes never left the wound. “Well, you’re one for surprises, aren’t you?”

Nikolai’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re nearing the extraction point. Medical’s standing by.”

The tension in the helicopter grew as Rumor’s breathing became shallow. Suddenly, his body jerked violently, limbs spasming uncontrollably.

“Shit!” Soap cried out, hands flying to keep Rumor from hurting himself. “He’s seizing!”

Ghost immediately moved to help, bracing Rumor’s thrashing body while Price looked on, his face a mask of grim determination. “Keep him on his side!” he ordered, his voice a calm command. “We can’t let him choke.”

Gaz quickly shifted Rumor into the recovery position, holding him steady as the seizure slowly subsided. Sweat glistened on Soap’s brow as he exhaled in relief, still trembling. “Come on, bonnie… stay with us.”

Price placed a hand on Soap’s shoulder. “He’ll make it. He’s tough.”

Nikolai expertly guided the helicopter to the base, the lights of the medical facility finally appearing on the horizon. "Almost there!" he called out.

The moment the helicopter touched down, the medics rushed to meet them. Rumor was swiftly moved onto a gurney, blood-soaked and barely conscious, and whisked away towards the emergency room. Soap, Ghost, and Price trailed behind, faces taut with concern.

Soap’s voice cracked, filled with desperation. “He’s gonna make it, right?”

The lead medic nodded briskly. “We’ll do everything we can. He’s in good hands now.”

Outside the hospital, the remaining team stood in silence. Price, Soap, Ghost, and Nikolai shared the same haunted expression, watching as Rumor disappeared through the doors. Minutes ticked by, each one heavier than the last, but they stood together, their bond unspoken yet unbreakable.

Nikolai, usually stoic, sighed. “He’ll be alright. He’s stronger than he looks.”

Price gave him a grateful nod. “Thanks for getting us here, Nik.”

The night settled around them, quiet except for the distant hum of medical machinery inside. Waiting for news, the team stood together, united in their hope for Rumor’s recovery.

[milkbreadandtadpoles]

soup and stars

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snip: you keep sukuna's favorite after workout drink in your fridge. and no, you don't frequent that store. sukuna looks at you like you hung the moon and painted the sky yourself when you're either on the brink of death or not paying attention (it's only with his eyes, though. he's a certified rbf). the two of you have been hooking up for over a year with little conversation outside of snarky comments and emojis he doesn't get.

and he sometimes takes care of you when you're sick for five hours only.

warnings: suggestive language, sukuna being a parallel of this guy i used to hookup with who was srsly emotionally constipated and really milked my daddy issues, reader being dumb (lol me), probably a lot of run on sentences and weird descriptions but i am not srry ab it, no Y/N here, a lot of parentheses for some reason

authors note: omg hey. i have this a03 and i thought i'd put a tumblr to pair it together cuz i had an old tumblr but i was kinda done w her (may she rest in peace!) anywayyy my name is lillie, hi again. hope u enjoy this!! luv me some sukuna who reminds me of all my bad flings.

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Since when did you get sick like this?

This time, not that time you lied to your boss, you have an actual stomach bug. Stomach thing. Food poisoning from bad sushi. You don't know.

What you do know, however, is that everything smells bad, you can’t stomach anything other than a handful of saltine crackers. You couldn’t even finish your coffee yesterday morning; you’re just coming down from a fever. Everything is hot and cold, nothing feels right on your skin. Noises are too loud, but the silence is making your ears bleed. 

Curled up into the sheets, you shiver. It rocks over you, feeling cold despite your body burning off whatever infection is brewing in your gut. Your skin feels crusty yet damp, scalp itchy and pulled back into two haphazard buns. Stray strands lay over your forehead that twinkles with cold sweat.

Vampire Diaries plays in the background, volume loud enough so you can hear where you’re at within the series but quiet enough to give you grace if you wish to take another four hour nap. You don’t even want to get on your phone, ignoring the occasional, silent buzzes and flashing light that draw your eyes away from the fuzz of your blanket.

Time passes in a druken haze, not knowing whether you slept or not, not feeling entirely there at all. You fail to count the amount of times you got up to throw up or sit on the toilet, thankful the walls are snug enough to rest your head on the wall of it to contemplate if it’s worth passing out before you gather your wits and crawl back into bed.

There’s a rustle in your sheets, a distant sound of intro music for the vampire show.

“You still watchin’ this shit?” A gruff voice sounds from above you.

Your brows furrow in your sleepy haze- you don’t have energy to fight an intruder, pulling the sheets over your head that throbs from lack of everything. Horribly big hands paw at the clothed dip in your waist. And you let out a mixture of a whine and huff at the realization that your little fling (if you could even call it that) picked a horrible day to play.

“Sukuna,” You murmur, drawing the blankets higher above the crown of your head before he has a chance to yank it down and see your very unprepared self, “Not a good time.”

Sukuna, an occasional fuck and lackluster addition to your friend group, scoffs a laugh, muttering something about you really being a freak, something about thanking your dad for giving you all these issues that only he can handle as he gropes the flesh of your ass.

And it would feel so lovely if you weren’t on the brink of death.

“Eggroll. All the eggrolls.”

He groans, lifting his hand away from you in agreement to the safe word (because that one time when the two of you didn't have one and you reacted that way actually scared the shit out of him). 

“I’m sick.” You add quietly, urging your body to morph into a tighter ball. If Sukuna were his younger brother, or his younger brother’s friend, you’d ask either of them to cover you with another blanket. Or to refill your water bottle. Maybe even run to the store down the road and grab you some soup. But this is Sukuna, and-

There’s a harsh tug at the blanket covering your head, and you try to weakly grip the fabric in place.

“That’s why you didn’t answer my text? ‘Cause you’re all disgusting and shit?” He questions, giving one more quick tug to reveal your messy hair, the tint to the apples of your cheeks. The way his gaze feels makes the very top of your gut churn, and you scrunch your face as you decide whether or not you need to puke again.

“Mhm.” You nod, begging for the fabric back with a soft tug. Sukuna relents, snorting as you cover your head back up.

His body weight makes your bed frame squeak as he repositions himself to slouch next to you, and you peer at him through the crack of the blanket. He pulls out his phone, typing on it lazily. Through your bubbling stomach, confusion festers simply because he isn’t moving.

“Thought you not replying was you trying to be cute ’n shit.” A hand makes its way onto your lower back, the weight of it making your eyes bulge in silent surprise. With all your strength, you shake your head and whisper a soft sorry. He tuts, like all weirdly immature but mature, rude but nice and confusing older brother types do, dismissing your apology with a little pat on your back.

Another pat, and you’re snuggling into the blankets and letting your eyes close, mapping the way his hand feels and ignoring the way your stomach cramps. You hear the distant sound of a picture being taken, only being able to mutter a humiliated groan. There's a vibration where your phone is, and you know that the group chat has been notified of your predicament. 

“You eat? Take a shower?” Sukuna asks, mastering the art of making his concern dismissive. The silence on your end answers everything he needs to know, humming in acknowledgement. You’re a stubborn little shit who likes to suffer in isolation, he’ll give you that.

He synchs a basketball game to your TV, adamantly rotating between patting and rubbing your back until you’re snoring and curled up next to his lap.

When you wake up, you’re still cold, still sweating off your fever. You peers towards the bed, noticing the empty spot but the basketball game still softly playing on the screen. For a moment, you let your head slump back into the mattress before you force yourself out of bed to pee.

The weight in your body is too overwhelming to be horrified by your appearance when you emerge to make your way into a shared bathroom with your roommate. They’re all gone for work, and you don’t have the wit to ask where Sukuna got the time off to come fuck you in the middle of the day. Or why he was looking at your location. 

“I forgot how much of a bitchy face you have.” He comments, voice a note softer than you would usually hear, as you pad towards the bathroom. You grumble a quiet fuck you, slinking towards the bathroom.

You fix your hair to the best of your ability- standing up too long made you throw up. Your abdomen feels like it’s gone to three HIT classes in a row, hardly having any reserves to help you stand and brush your teeth. So you do it knelt over the bathtub, making sure to lock the door to make sure that stupid person of interest doesn’t see you so weak.

Rinsing your mouth out knelt over a tub is a new low, spitting the globs of toothpaste and water into the drain before you turn it off and brace the sides of the tub to stand and wander back out into the kitchen. Your bones feel like brittle, a bowling ball in your stomach forcing your posture to look horrifyingly old. It's been two days but you've aged thirty years. 

“Hi.” You greet weakly, rubbing your eyes before putting your arms back down as swiftly as you can. When was the last time you shaved?

Sukuna nods back, digging through a plastic bag. It’s only a few seconds before you’re sitting on the floor. The tile makes you twitch, and you wonder how you’re going to get up without looking like a hobbling mess. Maybe you’ll just crawl.

Soup and some electrolyte drinks are set out on the counter- along with your favorite candy. For a moment, your brows furrow, and then your lip wobbles in realization.

“Did you get that for me?”

“Can’t fuck you if you’re all pitiful and disgusting.” Is all he says, but his lip twitches into a bewitching smirk as your eyes well with tears and you sniffle out a sweet thank you. "Of course you’d cry over stupid shit like this." He adds, shaking his head. 

His shoes click bluntly against the floor, and he peers down at you with that devastatingly handsome, horribly mean face.

“You could just go fuck another girl.” You murmur sappily, lip jutting into a pout. And it’s true, you know it. The two of you have established that. He throws it in your face, too, when you tell him you’re busy or you’re too sleepy. Or when you simply don’t want to deal with his attitude.

His laugh tickles your heart, staring at him with wide, watery eyes as he bends down and gathers you into his arms. You squirm, or try to, holding any pride and ego close to your chest like a rabid animal as you let out a faux uncomfortable noise. There’s a familiar tap to your ass that urges you to stop, and you sink into Sukuna’s terrifyingly comfortable embrace as he carries you back to your room. The two of you have hardly cuddled before, the absolute most being him begrudgingly letting you cling onto him after one particularly rough night- only to shove you off five minutes later, giving you a pat on the head as if to say good job, thanks for the head, before leaving.

So this is new, awkward, when your semi friend with semi benefits sets you down with the upmost genteel fashion and retreats back into the kitchen. He comes back with an armful of products moments later. Soup, your favorite cup filled with mystery get well liquid, a straw and a big spoon.

“I don’t like big spoons.”

“That’s too fuckin’ bad because that’s what I got- stop pouting like that, it's disgusting.”

Sukuna sets everything down and defiantly does not grab another spoon for you. You make a noise in the back of your throat when he reaches over and urges you to sit up with a silent look that you’re expected to figure out. He lets you maneuver a pillow behind your back, lets you curl a blanket around your body and change the TV back to Vampire Diaries- he does not let you feed yourself.

When you reach for the bowl of soup (your favorite- chicken and stars), he uses only a percentage of his strength to swat your hand away, giving you another demand to stop sulking like a little kid before he’s crawling (crawling!) across the bed. Bowl of soup and too big of spoon in hand, he sits across from and in front of your view from the show.

He leans forward in a sort of endearing way, brows furrowed in a certain concentration as he scoops the perfect spoonful of soup and stars, holding it to your mouth. And he watches when you open your mouth with furrowed brows, lips closing around the dipped metal so that nothing drips down your chin. The broth warms your mouth, your stomach in an instant, making your face relax and your back slump into the pillow that supports you.

There’s a prickle of humiliation on the apples of your cheeks, something Sukuna would likely make fun of if you weren’t half asleep by the time he finishes spoon feeding you. And yea, there was one singular instance of him swiping away fallen liquid away with his thumb. And yea, you’re going to remember that forever. And most definitely are you going to internalize this as something more between the two of you than just friends who fuck (friend being a huge overstatement).

“I don’t like you.” You find yourself murmuring as Sukuna thrusts your clunky, metal, pink water bottle in your face. Obediently, as you always are, you sip at the liquid, swallowing down any grimace as he stares right at you while you swallow.

“You’re not my favorite, either.” He grunts, picking the cup up as soon as you set it down and representing it to you with a face.

“I’m at least second to your video game console.” Your grumble with pursed lips, taking another measly sip. When Sukuna raises his brows, you take a few more.

“Third. Second is pot. And it’s a PS4- fucking nerd.”

The part of your stomach that isn’t cramping to shit flutters, your fever probably rises, and you smile to yourself as you take a big gulp of the electrolyte solution. You swallow before he says the softest atta girl and takes the cup to set it back down.

Sukuna helps you shuffle under three big blankets, gives you your phone and goes to wash the soup bowl. You text Satoru with sick enthusiasm, to which he reiterates it in your (other) group chat where everyone just starts sending silly fangirlish memes. Shoko isn’t phased, Suguru isn’t pleased, either. But there’s an icky smile on your face, the thought of when it’ll end and Sukuna will go back to, well, Sukuna, gnawing at the back of your throat.

But you’ll pretend for today, like you do everyday.

“Are you leaving?” You ask when he comes back into the room, question answered when the bed dips once more.

He grunts a no, to shut up and sleep as he synchs up another sports game. You don’t mind, turning your head so you’re facing him. His back rests against a pillow with a floral case, one of your weighted stuffed animals squished between the weight of his back and the metal bed frame.

You stare with lidded eyes and hot cheeks, tracing the musculature of his shoulders and the sharpness of his face in the same pattern you do after he’s done making you quiver and shake and cry. The plush of the blanket is a perfect excuse for the sheen of sweat on your face, your stomach still molten lava and convulsing.

But it’s just a little more than a dull ache with Sukuna here, bored face and all.

For a moment, before you fall asleep for a third time today, you feel his fingertips, hard and gruff and soft, brush against your cheek, your chapped lips. You’re too tired to hide or quip at him in the static-like fashion that makes him laugh.

You swear you see his lips twitch when you hum affectionately. There’s a text waiting for your friends, a mental scoreboard to update. Smile number two. Four days apart. From holding a sparkler and ogling at it like a child at Satoru’s New Year’s Eve party to laying in bed sick, purring like a cat as he pets you.

“Stop looking like you’re going to die.” He all but requests, covering your face with a sliver of the blanket and looking back at the game. Grabbing the remote, he turns the volume up a few more notches to ignore your itty bitty, very sleepy laugh.

Seconds away from sleep, Sukuna uncovers it- you. His lingering gaze tingles your nose, all the way down to the tips of your toes. Your infatuation with him might as well be the cure to cancer from the faintest spark of energy it gave you.

He’s not there when you wake up. It could have been a fever dream for all you know if it wasn’t for the refilled hydro flask and oddly neat note scribbled for you to ‘drink the fuck up’ on one of your Sanrio sticky notes. There's a brief look of horror on your face knowing that he looked through your drawers to find one. 

You drink it all and take a gruesome looking picture, sending it to him with a silly caption- your way of saying thank you. Sukuna doesn’t respond, but the read receipts are on. And he doesn’t talk to you for awhile, as if he curates the perfect way to make you stay by letting the bubbling like for him simmer into nothing, only for it to come back in full force when asks if you’re awake three Thursdays later.He asks if he can still use the key you gave him to come by after the gym to shower because his little brother and friends are over and he doesn’t want to hear them blubber while they figure out their alcohol tolerance (or lack thereof).

A pearly, well built increment of yourself hopes it’s so he’ll check up on you, too, after he slinks into your room and fucks you just the way he likes- because he knows you like it, too.

And you say yes, like you always do. Tell him about this new body wash you got that he can use, that you just so happened to get his favorite drink from the store he get his protein powder and supplements from when you went grocery shopping.

you don’t even like that store lmfao

found a new prebiotic there! Saw it on Pintrest

sure

Sukuna is not immune to exploiting your obvious cartwheels to please him. He’ll never say thank you, and you won’t ever ask him to. You do it for all your friends, you tell him. Shoko’s toothbrush brand is in your bathroom cabinet when she sleeps over. Satoru’s moisturizer and favorite tooth-rotting snacks. Suguru’s blanket because he gets cold at movie nights. But Sukuna knows he could have whatever he asked for within the hour.

He’ll never address that he took care of you when you were sick. Both times. Or that there's a packet of your favorite gum in the console of his car. And he'd rather be dead than you, shit, anyone, find out that there's a hidden album of little you's in his phone. 

i’m just a good friend  *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

we’re not friends.

It doesn’t hurt your feelings. Because you know he’s emotionally constipated, that no one’s ever really cared. Except Yuji, but little brothers always care. That whatever affection and consideration thrown his way will be burnt to a crisp, that he’ll only ever look at you like you hung the stars when no one’s looking, or only think about you at night when the weed isn’t helping him sleep. 

uh huh, we sure aren’t. see you later! make sure to stretch before you lift!!

stop texting me, it's fucking up my music

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